Trapped in a Metaphor

I started writing about writing and compared writing to knitting and found myself stuck in the metaphor.  The idea of writing being like knitting became the subject instead of the feelings involved when I see a half-assed piece sitting in front of me, telling me to give it up.

I found I wanted to tell you how it was all good.  That it was a process.  What I wasn’t doing was grieving for the loss of what I was going to make.  There is the moment when it comes to me, this is not working and I need to stop now.

This Mind, with it’s new age spirituality, will say: no problem, it’s all good, we can use some of it somewhere, at least we are writing.  Yet it is like filling a hole with fluff. It looks solid to everyone else but I know it’s still there.

So how to feel the loss without wallowing in it, using it to push away starting again?  I find I have no solid answer.  I see a picture of honoring the old will moving on with the new.

There is a lesson forming and still too fuzzy for me to put into words.  A way of being with the words as they appear and still capable of seeing a path to the finish line.