It's like a rogue balloon gushing out air, or the thirsty deep cracks that form in dry desert sand, the uselessness of a Ferris wheel that quietly and motionlessly sits in the shadows surrounded by bright twinkling lights and scaling noises echoing the purpose and vitality of a carnival. That is what a wall feels like. The wall that you hit when you've been running a hundred miles an hour too preoccupied to realize it's coming when suddenly you realize that what you love to do, you don't love to do anymore. That stark realization has the power to send chills of panic through an exhausted body.
Writers have writer's block, artists go through dry spells, and musicians hit a wall, and then proceed to slide down it for a few days, weeks, months or years. But from the other side of that realization I can see that sometimes that wall can be a sign of a healthy passion. You don't know what you've got till it is gone, the mystery and magic of art tends to loose some of it's je ne sais quoi right when you need it the most. At moments like that I feel it is important to step back and find fresh perspective and focus, perhaps from the base of that brick wall you just face planted. When I say that I am really compounding what I think I should know inherently. But I guess what I am projecting out "there" is that everyone, or so I am told has moments of second guessing their calling life. That second guessing doesn't make your passion any less real or relevant, it is simply a moment of needing a new vantage point.
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