There are other times when I feel I have nothing to say at all. My mind is blank and I lack the energy to focus it in on anything. I'm in the fog. I sense that words, images, ideas are flowing through but I barely catch any of it. That's the purpose of the fog; it keeps me in that strange state between focused thought and a constant flow of undifferentiated consciousness.
I think of being in the fog as time-wasting even though I know how productive it can be. My subconscious is churning and occasionally I catch a word or image that releases the energy I need to think about it. I begin talking to myself and one thing leads to another. When that happens, I can feel my insides sitting up, becoming alert. I come out of the fog into clarity. They are each other's flip side.
But I can't rely on the occasional nugget in the fog. If I want to get anything done, I have to purposely focus. That focusing is coming into the moment; it's simply being present, aware of being present. So much of that state is about doing, as if sharpening my thoughts, reaching for clarity brings out the desire in me to act, to think or do something concrete, substantial, an act of mind or body that leads me forward toward something productive.
I let myself slip too easily into the fog. It's an old habit that I'll only break if I practice coming into the present and focusing, through meditation, but also just by looking at the things in front of me, my laptop, my fingers pressing on the keys. That reminds me of QWERTY and the fact that I actually took a typing course in high school and how my parents said I didn't have to go to college - I could go to secretarial school instead, and that was typical of them - not understanding who I was and what I wanted. And how much of a hindrance that was and still is. And...And...And.
One thing always leads to another.
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