neurons now fire and fade in my mind like they’re covered by a wet blanket.
The initial pulse of a thought is still clear… recognizable as something interesting or joy-inducing or worth pursuing. But it’s then dampened enough to prevent it from spreading to the rest of the mind and flowering into something resembling real inspiration.
But maybe this is the limit now: the New Fogged Normal.
And if so, in that context those damp fogged-in flashes are inspiration (or at least as much as you’re gonna get), and so you’d damn well better grab onto them and facilitate their flourishing as much as you can.
For maybe this process– not so easily letting go of the now-slippery rope ends of worthy, valuable thoughts– is a new skill that must be learned and suddenly
And maybe by practicing this skill, the soft paths of thinking can be tread down more clearly and precisely, and I’ll be able once again to follow those shooting stars swiftly through the woods. I’ll be able to follow them to a clearing where things are clear, and the light shines bright, and I can soak in it and bend it and spend as long as I want basking in it and shaping it and making something of it.
For certainly, focussing only on unfocussed transience will lead me nowhere but the same place: standing alone, waiting for the next faint flash that I know in advance will quickly disappear.
So hold on to those ropes, for dear life.
For life is dear. And dur.
But so long as your eyes are open and your hands remain dipped in the water, those slippery ropes of beautiful thought and enriching experience will continue to swim by like eels packed in a freshwater stream, asking to be caught if you’ll only just try. And maybe you just need to try. To try harder. Maybe then you can get better.
The fish used to swim into your mouth with no effort at all.
Now you must learn to be a fisherman.