Type. Just type.
Write. Just write.
Something will show up.
Something will open.
Even if it is just the courage to push through.
Erase the blocks.
Can’t erase them.
Maybe just override?
Sometimes there is no flow. Sometimes there is only stuckness. Can’t move forward. Can’t get anything done.
But is this really true? Is ‘can’t’ a fact here? Or maybe it is just allowing the imperfect to show up. What would happen if the ‘perfect’ did not run you? I bet you could move. I bet you could get things done. Don’t worry about the grade, just start to type the paper.
And keep typing.
Maybe nothing brilliant will happen. Maybe all you can get out of it is knowing that you did it. Maybe we should allow ourselves to appreciate and be content and be human with that knowledge.
At the very least, it will make for a better night of sleep.
And that’s a good thing…