Where are the butterflies?

Leaky roof, sticking door, stack of bills that need attention. Everything slits a hole in the balloon of inspiration. Trying to mend the tear just frays the edges. Clouds part, but it's still overcast. Where are the ideas that used to land here like butterflies? Cranky times need poetry and action. Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote: "I heard an angel speak last night/And he said, "Write!"

Every word feels like the product of arthritic effort. But with time, it starts to flow like yarn unraveled. Life isn't supposed to be easy, and writing is just an extension of life, so why should that be easy? Joseph Addison had it right when he said, "Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses, and disappointments."

Wallet empty? Spirit tired? Car out of gas? If your cup runneth over with "blessings" of that sort, shake off the mood of complaint and pick up a pen. Your swallowtails and monarchs may have arrived.