As The Wheel Turns

Ah, yes. The Wheel. Recently, I have had my time at the top of the curve, feeling inspired about a host of things and getting a lot of things done, despite the feeling nothing got done.

The euphoric feeling of being on top is quite wonderful. Unfortunately, it never lasts. The Wheel doesn't stop for a moment, and like the summer season which so make me happy, the season changes and chills. I fall over The Wheel's side and drop to the bottom, where inspiration is hard to come by, and faith and confidence don't enter. Guess they can't breathe down here. They await my rise to the surface which, like winter, seems to take forever.

I wish I had paints. Not the big gallon cans used for painting walls and such. Little tubes of acrylic colors, squeezed out onto a pallette while I sit before an easel with a stretched canvas. I could splatter meaningless colors across the whitewashed background, expressing emotion in ways I only struggle with in words. But, to be honest, I expect I would find such expression just as difficult.

Sometimes, it's hard to express what one is feeling because one is not quite sure what it is one is feeling.

Like an explosive charge the feeling awaits the lighting of the fuse, or the spark of inspiration. Then it will burst forth in wondrous splendor. Meanwhile, like the ugly containers explosives so often come in, I wait and wonder. Just what is it am I feeling anyway? And why do I want to give up again when it seems like yesterday I had faith.

The Wheels turns.