Scattered Like Water Bugs

My mind goes in so many directions at times. It’s hard to keep things straight. Writing, drawing, and creative endeavors are the only time I can focus on a singular point. Doing dishes, I’m pondering the nature of God, thinking about revisions, remembering a scene from the past, and taking stock of my music library, anything but focusing on dishes. When a task that is not challenging to my mind, it’s like throwing a pebble in the middle of water bugs on a tranquil shore, it scatters like water bugs.

Somethings don’t engage me, not that I don’t or won’t do them. Stuff needs to be done, and I want them done. So I do them, but my mind goes somewhere else. Especially at work. It’s robot work. Often, I fall out of this world into a space inside my head. It’s as real as the world I live in here. That’s where I go when I write. The people, worlds, and stories all come from that space, that magnificent world. I disappear, and the words flow, and there is nothing else. Others around me can attest to how oblivious I become.

So when I am faced with the small task that requires little of me other than being physically present, my thoughts splinter and scatter like so many bugs on the surface of the water. I’d apologize for it, but that’s a part of who I am. I know Creative types are difficult people, but that’s because our minds never settle, never rest.