I have so many ideas in my head. Or maybe it’s just that I have too much time on my hands.
I am aware of my ideas more. Or have the time to observe their appearance.
Or, this slow space-time I am living, carved out by cancer, is in fact a gift – genuinely feeding creativity.
At a time, I cannot always At a time when
I am unable to act on most of them. Or the need to go slowly, to be mindful of the fatigue that constantly threatens to engulf me if I do too much, well,
this stops me from acting on them. So, they remain in a murky hovering state in my often too-crowded mind.
Sometimes one or other gains clarity.
For a moment.
And I have decided
(because I have forgotten to write them down, or because honestly, sometimes in the moments they occur writing them down is a step too far and one that would put pressure on the space-time-gift and possibly shrink/ spoil/ irk it)
that hopefully the right one will win out.
I cannot do them all. Now or ever. Probably.
Maybe the hungriest will win. Or maybe the one with most stalwart determination will hang on inside my head. Or the most patient, quietest one will grow
slowly,
in the background, happy to take its time whilst I figure out who I might be after this blip/
this
space-
time-
gift.
I know that this strange grasping – almost not there – piece of writing emerged when I was driving home from the north coast, alone,
well with my two dogs,
but not my son who’d elected to stay in the surf and come home with another.
I know that there was an epiphany when it first started to form; around another idea,
a really great one,
one that was a whole play I wanted to write, or a whole project I was going to develop. One day.
But I have forgotten what that was. The epiphany.
This writing was just the remnants from the cutting room floor.
Or maybe the sideshow.
It is frustrating to have my moments of profound clarity
(were they?)
veiled so quickly
by what I think is still chemo fog.
In the moments they come they are inspirational though.
