28-day Storm

I survive a 28-day storm every month. It starts out barely visible off beyond the horizon. As the days turn into weeks, the storm builds. My normal, staid focus becomes increasingly erratic with new thoughts arriving the instant another leaves. I begin to fill up inside with stories and ideas and philosophical ramblings. I am prolific in my output. I have to get it all out on paper. The storm rages on for another week and I’m riding it, exhilarated. I’ve got my mental surfboard in the rushing waters and we are taking every wave. I like what I write, what I think, what I see. I feel like there is no end to my abilities. I’m in my groove and it feels good. And then, suddenly, the storm ceases. And I’m left standing there wet, with my surfboard in hand and no waves to ride. And I can’t force any stories to come. I am empty, sad. I put my surfboard away and watch the dry horizon for any sign of the next storm.