It’s always hectic. There’s always something to be done. But, it is nice from time to time to just cut the ropes that bind and drift gently on the swell, seeing where the current and the breeze will take me.

I can’t say that the last week hasn’t been busy, lurching from one manufactured crisis to the next, but I was finding that things were settling out such that, by week’s end, I was content to just drift along. I don’t think that any new words were written this week -- I seemed to spend all my writing time rewriting what was already there, reintroducing the flow and imagery that I know I can write, but which seemed to have been missing from the drafts I was working on. Even with the effort to revisit what I’d already written, and with nothing new having been created, I still didn’t mind it all.

If I was to be pressed, I’d probably say that this sudden appearance of freedom is due to some of life’s other pressures easing off, but I really don’t mind whatever the cause is. Life will always find a way and, as long as I’ve got time for my family, and time to write, I can’t really ask for much more (perhaps fame and fortune...).

What does the week ahead hold? I don’t know, and I don’t really care at the moment. I’m content.