Facing the Music.

It struck me recently that when given opportunities to write about anything I please..how much of a strain imagination is to me now. When did that muscle become so flabby? I cringe when I wave and the skin beneath my arms waves back at me. Obviously, this has never been a sought after beauty trend, and I am troubled. But when I sit and stare at a page and discover a weak and jiggly mind... I am haunted. I would take all the waving arms in the world in exchange for a strong creative spirit.

Fortunately for those of us in this state, the cure is as droll and routine as any other physical work out. You set the goals, you do the daily tasks, you stretch and there are lots of liquids. And it's just at the moment when you think that none of those disciplines have made a hair of difference, you wake up one morning and find that it is all fun again. That you can see yourself. Not the thirty-something-receptionist you drinking day old coffee with flabby arms, but the little-girl-clutching-her note-pad-and-bug-collection you. And SHE is the one that can see flying bears and talking trees with no strain at all. And the dancing daisies with their smiling faces tell her, "See, we were here all along, buried under the weight of years of hibernation and all of your grown-uppityness. Welcome back. Now let's run wild now, please."