And of course, now that I can begin, I don't know how to start. Of course, if any given subject is on the table, it often induces that "freedom-as-paralysis" sort of thing which is one of the peculiar parts of creativity.

I suppose since it's because of my struggles with creativity that I'm here, that might be what I want to start with. The human mind is of course creative by nature, so technically it's not something I can avoid, but that certainly doesn't mean that I can feel it or access it. The problem with that is that I am a big proponent of the idea that getting through creative blocks just involves pushing. can't draw well, draw anyway; don't feel inspired, just make something; crushed by doubt, create and then bury it. etc. I've generally picked up that attitude from artists I follow online, after doing that for a while good artistic wisdom seems to float to the surface. Only, I can't seem to follow that wisdom, which leads me right into the "i'm a miserable failure" wash-and-rinse-with-tears cycle if I'm not careful.

But my current dilemma truly has less to do with motivational problems and more to do with what feels like what is within me cannot find what is sort of within-me-sort-of-without, where I reach for image (usually image, sometimes word) and reach and there is only nothing there. and then I look back and see a memory of what it was before, of reaching and touching pattern, story, symbol, flow - there as they ever belong to the mind, and I don't know what the difference is, within me or without, I only know what the blankness feels like, and feels like in comparison. and then I drift away from my collected wisdom and I think about creativity differently, I think about what it is to create alone, and to create collaboratively, and of course I have to wonder, I have to question if there is really a dichotomy there, though I would never come to that conclusion I think about patterns in the way I think about them and I see a chemistry or alchemy or ecology to the way these things move through mind. because these intricate masses of information and representation erupt from and through the human brain and this is not new, just unexamined yet.

what is there to examine in the inert emptiness? even speculation feels to me like excuse-making. what is my mind doing instead, the parts that move in places I can't see, to what use have the mechanisms been placed? All the little mind-gizmos of touch and response, do they change, or even die? perhaps the space I've been wandering is a desolate boneyard after all. maybe these words themselves are shaped to fit the skeleton of something that was once lively.

speaking of mechanism, that image feels right (as they sometimes do), so I will hold it with me for a while, at least to feel around its edges or reach deeper in. when I find something I can touch or grasp, perhaps I can bring it back with me - likely not as image (not one of mine, at least, not this deep and formless), but sometimes word can come close, and maybe it will.