Thinking too much...is there such a thing?

I hate it when I wake from a restless sleep with faint memories of my subconscious battling in my dreams.  All I ask is for my brain to rest when I rest.

This has been an ongoing life challenge.  I am a thinker, an over thinker they say.  What does that mean?  Does that mean I mull things around in my mind looking for answers? Yes.  Do I come up with creative solution?  Yes.  Sometimes though it is just the mulling that becomes all consuming, and that really just stifles creativity.  Action spurs creativity more than thinking.  What often keeps us (me) from action is the fear of failure or just not being able to see the whole outcome. Well to hell with that way of thinking.  Mistakes happen…some big and some small, but that also leads to new problem solving skills and sometimes humility that helps to make a different choice the next time around. Inaction is an ongoing mistake too.

I forgot to Write

Wake up and write...that is what it takes.

Seven months ago I posted I would write and then NOTHING! Was that post a moment of impulsive release, hoping if I wrote the confusion and enormity of the moment would pass? Yes!  Did writer's block follow? Yes! What was the block?  Fear of my voice. Lack of confidence, and even the creeping concern that if this blog is out there I am exposed. I was also writing for school and looking for work - excusable demands on my time.

So I woke and decided to write. 

I need to read more.  When I read I hear the voices of other writers and also their struggle to find their voice.  Sometimes it is magical when you come across a great piece of writing and hear every nuance of energy, thought, concern or description of the tiniest detail that colors the moment.  I need to read more Joan Didion. 

I awoke after a dream. I was around a group of artist - young adults and middle aged.  Some making art, some drinking and sleeping it off. I was also a waitress at a bar. I was a young adult and full of wonder in my dream.  The money was in piles at my station where I picked up my drinks. Then my mind shot to the next scene where I was showing young artist that these simple drawings and paintings could be construed as art. In my dream the work was not over thought. My hands were dirty in paint as I was trying to replicate an image I had drawn, with a woodcut, onto a new piece of handmade paper.  Strange that I was using this technique - I have never made woodcuts.  I do know a woman, who I immensely respect for her deep commitment to her artwork, and some of her work is done with woodcuts. I love the detail and jagged edges to the images. I woke feeling inspired. 

So, I woke and typed.