Today I was planning to attend a writers festival. In fact I had planned to attend yesterday and had been looking forward to it for several months. Everything being presented looked interesting and well…thrilling. There was even a discussion on magical realism, a sub-genre of strong attraction. In fact it’s still about to happen in 2 hours and I could get there if I really really really tried…but it’s more than that. Something is holding me back. I need a cup of Earl Grey to tackle this little bit of resistance; if that’s what it is. Why I am feeling like this? I’m surely sounding lazy and / or confused but the truth is I am neither of those.

The fact is I’ve got too much on. Too much happening. Let me get that cup of tea. So far today there has been visitors from early hours, a group of almost thirty for breakfast, an incident involving paramedics and a potential heart attack, a call from the Asian subcontinent about the mental wellbeing of 2 millenials, sad bad news of New Zealand’s innocence lost through a major act of aggression, responses to a lovely person from whom I get supervision, a 2 hour meeting later in the day to discuss plans for a potential new community outlet. I could continue, however that’s for starters as its only 1pm.

Maybe this is why I write fantasy? I love writing about girls who become invisible, princes with flying machines, feminist robots that take over, and people with powers that take them far beyond the realms of everyday existance. Unfortunately I can’t do any of that, those wonderful magical escapist things but I can meditate and this allows me to go into a space of flow where I am enjoying now, whatever now may be. Right now it is a large cup of Earl Grey, a handful of licorice bullets, gazing out the back windows at the trees, leaves and sky. (A blue sky day indeed.) And maybe in half an hour or so I’ll catch a rest before that two hour meeting I really need to attend, even if, like the writing festival, it’s halfway across town.