Writing is very difficult for me right now. More difficult than normal. It’s hard to focus, to give writing the priority, the time, the energy. It feels impossible to push the uncertainty of the future out far enough to create room, build a scaffold, and hold it at bey.

You’re not my therapist and this isn’t a bad Facebook post, so I won’t go into all that’s happening. Suffice it to say that times are tough for me and those I hold dear and writing seems like the smallest, most insignificant preoccupation in the world.

But is it?

Maybe now is the best time to write, to create, to make. Perhaps now, when life seems to be sprouting only weeds and no grain, is the time to allow creative work its space. After all, writing is a constant. Circumstances change, difficulties rise and successes fall, the stew of hope, fear, want, and wish simmers and steams, yet writing has been at my elbow for half my life, and welcomes me back each day.

So, here’s not to better days. Instead, here’s to staying the course and learning along the way.