I sat in front of my MacBook yesterday, staring blankly at the screen, reaching deep within to find the words I wanted to write. No matter how hard I tried, or how deeply I reached, forward progress eluded me. 

No words were written that day. 

It got me thinking about the perfect conditions for creativity. There’s some precise balance that exists between your world being calm and peaceful, and your world being in shambles that breeds creativity. 

Too easy, and there’s no adversity or pain fueling your brain to admonish your demons. 

Too hard, and your brain shuts down, refusing to acknowledge the walls crumbling down around you. 

I don’t know that I’ve felt the first of those two much in my life. I can’t recall the last time my life was easy, which is perhaps why I exist terminally within the liminal space that sits between hope and despair. 

But this week, I am without walls, as they’ve disintegrated into a pile of depressive dust. And without walls I am apparently also out of words. 

So here’s hoping some of those creative juices find their way back into my dehydrated, parched brain. 

Court