A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about the wonderful experience of silence among two people who don't necessarily feel the need to say a word in each other's presence. Now I want to talk about the opposite side of the equation—when it's appropriate, or necessary, to speak, but you don't have any words. Ever been there? I sure have.
Sometimes it's because I'm tired. Sometimes it's because I'm thinking. Sometimes it's because I'm afraid to say what needs to be said. And sometimes, I just feel empty. Like I've given all I have to give to my work, or family, or friends, and I just have nothing left.
A couple of months ago, I read a book about writing called bird by bird by Anne Lamott. I've never really experienced major writer's block before, but I learned something about myself when I read her chapter about the subject. This one sentence she wrote has been running through my head ever since I read it: "The word block suggests that you are constipated or stuck, when the truth is that you're empty."
I don't think I've ever connected the dots between input and output when I've run out of things to say during conversations. I think I've always just assumed that if I were empty during a conversation that I could just tap into the reserves of information I've stored up over the years and everything would be just fine. But, that hasn't always been the case.
If Lamott's principle of emptiness applies to conversations as well as writing, and after thinking about it for a while, I think it does—then it's okay to be empty sometimes. It's just an indication that I need to get involved in experiences that spark the creative flow. And knowing this somehow gives me permission to do so.
