Sometimes life falls into the flow like water rippling down a stream. Other times it feels like finding water in the desert. Writing sometimes falls into that rhythm. So does any creative effort. Painting, dancing, music so on. Words flow freely one day and then a week later, there are rocks in the stream blocking the flow.
I think it is what makes writing so enjoyable, because when it flows it is so incredibly wonderful. It is like connecting with a higher self. Not particularly out of body although sometimes that may happen to bring a story to a page or paint to a canvas. It is more like eating ice cream on a hot summer afternoon. Soothing and refreshing. We all have our road blocks or the rocks that seem to fall in the stream unexpectedly.
Yet when it flows again there is always a garden beyond the wall. Sometimes a more flourishing garden then the one we previously enjoyed. We find water. We sip. We let the words ebb and the paint flow. We ride the wave to bring our souls to the page. We dive deep to find the thoughts, the theme. We work to find the water. To let it flow. To water the garden that flourishes with every stroke of the keypad. And just like finding water, there is always music in the garden, yet our souls must be very quiet to hear it.