Time to think

I remember a few years back I read The Blithesdale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne.  Essentially, all of these writers in the nineteenth century thought of this great idea:  they would move to a plot of land with a spacious cabin on site, where they would work the land all day for their food and keep, each performing important tasks for the good of the communal life, and at the end of the day, they would be so inspired by their work that they would spend the evening writing.
The plan did not work out so well, you see, because they quickly realized that after a long day of hard work, their brains were far too exhausted to even make an attempt at creativity.
I learned this lesson first hand over the last few months.
Right before I began work teaching full time for the summer, I had been actively reading and writing every day, excited to get up and get into it, completely uninterested in the television and other mundane distractions.
Alas, after my first week of grueling teaching for 40 plus hours a week, I had lost all interest in creativity.  I didn't want to read anything of import.  I wanted cheap and easy, lust filled, give-it-up-on-the-first-page paperback novels that required little thinking and less effort.  Television once again became a much needed escape from my pounding head.  I didn't even want to bake!
Perhaps worse, I was too tired to stay actively interested in what was going on in the world, in society at large.
So, a week back into my freedom, I have come to the realization that if at all possible, I will never drown myself in work again.  I will never chase my creativity away.
A long, long, long time ago, I lost myself completely, forgetting my dreams, my goals, what had really mattered to me, making a difference.  And I lost that girl for a long period of time, years.
This summer, losing just a tiny part of myself shook me to the core.
It was certainly an experience.  One that I hope never to repeat.
I think when we lose ourselves, we cease moving forward.
And I love moving forward.