Human, when will you ever learn?
You can’t bend me to your will or your schedule.
I don’t have a calendar.
When you get all worked up because our mystical brew isn’t frothing fast enough, I don’t understand your urgency. I see your relentless assault on the keyboard. Frustrated fingers in a fruitless flurry of activity. Click. Clack. I hear the clatter of hurried keystrokes searching for clarity.
Haven’t you learned anything since we were introduced?
Remember the late night in Bangkok when you were struggling to sleep and I barged the door down and whispered rhythmic words to describe your insomnia? See, I’m not supposed to be convenient to your wishes. Time doesn’t rule my realm as it does yours.
But I’ve learnt a few things about your world. You can’t find flow on a whim. I see you search for it but it eludes your grip. Teakwood candles envelope the room in a warm scent, an attempt to awaken your creative senses. But all too often, routines fail to take you to that place. Resistance rears its ugly head. In defiance, you push through and reach a dead end.
I know this is not working for you, so let’s consider a pact. If you commit to being patient, I’ll play my part.
If you gather the right ingredients, I’ll show up. Masterpieces need to ferment in your subconscious. If the brew is not ready—and you will know when—don’t stop the process. Competing ideas need to wrestle each other for territory. Open the jar too soon and the wrong bugs might be in charge.
This is how we must dance.
lovely lovely lovely!