Too many times I allow things to get in the way of my creativity — or rather — my creation.

The fact is that my creativity ebbs and flows; there’s no way to get around that. I can place myself into surroundings that might inspire my creativity to increase, but it might just not respond. I could be gazing upon the most beautiful, serene locale, or embraced by the comfiest hand-knit blanket, and my mind may just shut down and say, “Nope! Not today.”

And you know what? That’s okay. Let the damn thing ebb. The trick is to take advantage of the tap when it’s on. To gather the rain as it falls and nurture the garden of my ideas.

Or, my notes app. That works, too.

To let the raindrops run over, cascading into a pail of dreams, so that when the drought comes (and as anyone in California knows — it always comes) I might still have enough nourishment to push through.

To be unafraid of failure — of imperfection — so that I might hit that publish button.

To understand that life is a process, a play that is simultaneously the dress rehearsal and the final act, always prepared for but never anticipating the curtain call.

And so I must push forward. Gather my thoughts. Journal. Put pen to paper, fingertips to typewriter keys, acrylic nails to backlit keyboard. I must not be timid.

poem fifty five.

i live in a world

of coffee

and poetry

words flow

until they stop

guttered

shunted to the side

by the small slopes

of life

ushered

into the mouths

of the starved

who seek

caffeine

and humility

Gather your raindrops.