Talking to the void

Why, when I find a free moment and sit down and write, do I stare at the screen blankly with no thought or idea of what to say? I know this happens to many people, but I find it maddening! Throughout my day, many nuggets of inspiration enter my brain, but can I think of one as I sit at my computer? Of course not!

While walking our dogs this morning, a close friend and I talked deeply during our 4 miles together, as we do several times a week. Our topics range from animal behavior to quantum physics, past lives, and childhood trauma. We discuss where we feel we failed parenting and where we are excelling. Today, we spoke in depth about memories being encoded in genes and passed through generations. Research has found animals exposed to stressors have observable changes in behaviors that persisted in subsequent generations. Could this idea explain why people believe they have past lives? Or, the difference between people who seem to have “old souls” and those who seem to have “young” ones? Could our phobias and fears be genetic coding?

I cherish these walks with my friend. Not only is she mentally stimulating, but I also feel free to speak my mind. We have been through many similar situations in our lives so I don’t feel any judgment from her. Today, as we were philosophizing about genes and life, I thought of the many topics I could write about. But, as the blank screen stares back at me, my mind is paralyzed.

Some of my trouble is my inner critic, Julie. Julie wants me only to write if it is perfect and worthy of accolades. She whispers in my ear, “Really? You’re writing that? No one wants to read what you have to say, and no one cares.” “You are only going to embarrass yourself.” Could my inner critic be more powerful for me due to some latent gene from an ancestor? Julie doesn’t realize this time I am working hard to not care. I’m trying to break the code! If I decide to bare my soul or mindlessly type nonsense, it doesn’t matter. This blog is for the authentic me, not the bitchy voice in my head judging everything I do.

“Fuck Off, Julie!”