A block could be a large piece or chunk of something, according to the dictionary, which makes me wonder my chunk’s content might be, that mass that gets in the way with creativity.
The problems with blocks that just sit there and don’t budge are that, generally, they don’t contain roses or pink hearts.
They contain grief and pain and anger and resentment…
One can wave the flag of forgiveness or point at years of “dealing with” hurts, there always comes that day when those emotions show up again.
They ascend from deep down, our innermost self, like dark bubbles floating up through the mud of matter.
They show up when we least expect them, and we certainly don’t welcome them. And when they burst on the surface, creating a dark, heavy, solid chunk that blocks all light and lightness, we feel emotionally helpless to move them out of the way.
All that can be done is waiting
And distracting ourselves
Maybe chop away a few edges from the heavy material
Hoping to make it smaller
Making it through the day
Without that inner light
It will be gone…