There comes a point when you’ve said and written everything you need to say on a topic and all you can do from here on in is repeat yourself.
Repeat the same ideas, concepts, feelings and beliefs, just rewording them with a slight twist of change within a different frame. They can crop up again and again but you have no new ways of expressing them, your palette is limited.
I find myself here now, in this place of feelings rolling around and around in over-expressed words and under-expressed emotions and ideas wanting to be told and shared in stronger, deeper, more impactful ways.
It’s the limbo frustration, the neutral space, and mostly it’s the signal telling you it’s time to move onto the next level. I don’t know what the next level is and I don’t think I’m supposed to have a plan. I think this is something that is meant to present itself in a moment of inspiration or random possibility. Something only known when it manifests.
I understand it as a bud waiting for its time to open, and I have no idea what the flower will look like.