My regular journaling has significantly improved my mood.
I've been taking some time, twice a week, to polish existing content as well as develop my floating ideas into a more concrete outline.
I've felt this focus for the last 6 weeks that I can't really describe properly. It's as though I've shifted my thinking totally. Writing is my craft. It's what I do, who I am, how I exist. It's like my mojo.
So, I guess, I've gotten my mojo back. My focus, my purpose, my essence.
And it feels good. It feels right. And I am almost understanding more now why the best writing of the best writers happens when they are older, more polished, more experienced, more rough around the edges.
When all the youthful spark has been extinguished and what's left, is the determined embers, that will not go softly, that will not die out. That will continue, fervently glowing, creating warmth and not just drawing attention from its flicker, but pulling people in by it's soothing nature. Bringing comfort to the hearth and the heart.
Words move people and I want to shift them. Hopefully, I'm creating habits that will make this happen.