How to get lost, on purpose, in your own head
Went hiking yesterday, did about 6 or 7 miles in very light patchy snow up towards Gertrude's Nose in the Mohunk Preserve. Went with a small group of people I didn't know and had some light conversation along the way, but mainly I like to go hiking to be in my own head, and I don't talk a lot during. One foot in front of the other, watch the rock watch the root, look up at the sky, admire the view.
Which, despite everything I could ever write you could never include the details of properly — and while it is a lovely view it is an ordinarily lovely view up there; in late January, upstate New York you see nice things, but not extraordinary things. And I got to be in my head a lot, where when I let the thoughts loose to run around and bang into each other sometimes ideas form. And I get re-inspired to write.
I felt twinges of that coming to me as I walked, and wished I could immediately transport back to the computer and get down to business. But it's a process, and a process I haven't been able to do much of lately. I got very used to going through the world solo, one foot in front of the other, dodge the rock, avoid the root — and spent some good times envisioning fictional scenarios. Now that life has changed and I'm happily with a second person, there's less time spent up in that imaginary area, which is a loss.
I have to wonder if that's partially creating the stagnation I've had with writing the last couple of years. Not enough time to let it spool out in my head before putting it on the page. Balance is needed, and maybe some more hiking.