My mind has been locked and forgotten like an attic in an old house waiting to be rehabbed. A century of dust coats the synapses, and tiny ghost spiders of ideas spin fragile webs in the shadowy corners. Thoughts skitter about unseen across the floor. Self-doubt and inertia nest like unwanted squirrels in the rafters.
But it's Spring-cleaning time. Throw open the shutters and let in the sunlight.
For too long I've allowed myself to just sit; my creative voice becoming derelict and moldy. Time to sweep away the cobwebs, wash down the windows and floors, and re-purpose the attic. It'll no longer be simply a storehouse of old papers and discarded toys. It'll be a workspace filled with bright colors and sound; a place to incubate and initiate new ideas and plans.
And I'm definitely evicting those damn squirrels!
