For some folks, writing may be the cure to get through a life in serious need of editing.
For me, I want–no, need–my life edited first before I can write. My unedited life disables my will to create.
So, I drop the writing to edit the life, to seek equilibrium. I don’t need the life perfect, but I can’t work when my life bangs around like an unbalanced tub in a washing machine.
Today, for the first time in a long while, I hear a familiar voice inside me singing a forgotten song. Though distant, I recognize the voice of my muse. The far-off song hints completion of my life-editing task is ahead. It suggests the writing is coming back. Hopefully soon.