The Source Is Still Here

On losing the scent of creativity, and wondering if it ever left.

Lately, I’ve been moving through a season of creative blandness that feels, in a strange way, quite profound. There’s something quietly radical about this kind of stillness — radical, in the original Latin sense of radix, meaning root. Not radical in the loud, revolutionary sense, but in the way a tree might return its energy inward, back to its base, unseen yet essential. It feels like that: a quiet descent into something foundational, though not necessarily comfortable. And perhaps because I can’t see or name what’s happening, it feels disorienting. Like watching an old film in black and white, only the film is playing in reverse, and the screen is tilted sideways, and no one gave you the subtitles. Things are unfolding, but I can’t make sense of them. The plot is unclear. I’m present, but I don’t fully understand what I’m doing here.

If this opening speaks to something in you…
Consider stepping a little further in. Paid subscribers get access to the rest of this piece — where the thoughts deepen, the questions soften, and the conversation turns more personal. It’s a slower kind of space. Like sitting on the back steps with a mug in hand, watching the sky change.

You’ll also receive a handwritten letter, delivered to your mailbox with care, with small surprises from local artists — tangible reminders that not everything lives on a screen.

If that sounds like your pace, I’d love to have you here.

In my natural habitat.