More or less unblocked.
But have you ever actually driven that road for more than an hour? It becomes hypnotic. Then boring. Then terrifying. Without resistance, without the small friction of a curve or a slowdown, the mind wanders into dangerous blankness. You stop paying attention. You stop feeling the wheel.
Some of my best writing came from days when I felt “half-blocked.” I couldn’t access the grand vision, so I wrote around it. I wrote sideways. I wrote the boring parts first. And in that detour, I found something I would have missed on the open highway. more or less unblocked
Partial blockage breeds creativity. Total blockage breeds despair. But total unblocking ? That breeds shallowness. If you take one thing from this, let it be this small, unglamorous practice:
One step doesn’t require a clear mind. It requires a willing foot. One paragraph doesn’t require a perfect outline. It requires a single sentence. One conversation doesn’t require a healed heart. It requires an open mouth. Then boring
These are elegantly dressed forms of staying blocked. They mistake the absence of friction for the presence of motion. Here’s what the “more or less” state teaches you: you are stronger than your own resistance.
And yet—here I am. Writing. Sending this out. You stop paying attention
There is a quiet tyranny in the word "unblocked."