Every time I’m silent on the blog for a few months, I often wonder what that time meant for me, whether I was going through a particularly difficult period, or just not being conscious enough to invest in myself and my creativity. Being consistent is still one of the greatest challenges I face with this,
What I’m about to write about has not come about from any specific aha-moment; no epiphanies were experienced in the making of this post. Instead, the matter of this post was a gradual movement, a subconscious recognition, spending a moment longer on that fleeting thought, than any others. Noticing that it had occurred to me
The English language is filled to the brim, permeated in every dimension with colourful metaphors that emphasize a weightlessness, lack of substance. From being swept away by a surprise kiss, a dazzling array of displays or a tantalizing taste, to being brought back down to earth, feeling light as a feather, and so on.
Be it caressing a warm cup of tea in your favourite mug whilst watching a show, taking the time to hand-cook your most scrumptious meal, or speak on the phone with a relative or close friend, rituals give us continuity in a medium of infinite effervescence.