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There’s nothing more frustrating than a creative block. The idea is there, you can see yourself creating a thing, but once you sit down and so it, the content is absent from your mind.

I once wrote an entire epic about love and the noble fight for justice. I was flowing so freely that I continued to write thrilling novellas and stories that tug at the heartstrings. Then, I woke up.

I always picture myself sitting at my desk, writing out the things I need to, but a block like The Berlin Wall stand between me and my creative freedom. There is a reason why, there’s always a reason why.

The ideas we come up with are not our own. The creations we think we make are merely snippets and translations of a world that we are being allowed into, by our vastly powerful minds. When we sleep and dream, or shower, have coffee or engage in any other routine task, we often find ourselves staring off into the abyss. We have access to the peephole that many have seen over the ages. Dali saw melting clocks and massive red roses. Picasso saw angles and blocks. I see a whole new world, and my young vocabulary hasn’t yet found the words to describe the magnificent complexities that I see.

When some experience a creative block, they see nothing. Others see everything. Buy when the lens is clean and all is clear, art happens.

What do you see?

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