I want to write, but I can't. The day that blockage was shot through

I have so many things I want to write, but I just can't...

I confided this to my peer during a coaching session practice.

When I mentioned that I had a little experience as a writer, they said,

Writing is a passion for you, isn't it? (Passion—a word not in my dictionary)

You want to express that talent, but you can't output it... (Yes, exactly)

According to theory, this is where we'd usually talk about letting go of the arbitrary assumptions that trip us up in writing and publishing, like needing to be perfect or lacking confidence in our output.

Not expecting much (sorry, coach), I decided to wait for their next words.

So, when you try to write and get stuck, what does it feel like?
Hmm?

Well, my upper body gets stiff, I guess.

Does that mean, perhaps, that there is a blockage in the process of typing the characters through your arms?

Huh? I was stunned. I didn't see that coming. That's a first for me.

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine yourself typing smoothly without any hesitation. What colors are around you? What's in your head? Does anything come to mind?

I imagined it just as I was prompted.
I saw myself staring intently at the screen, moving my fingers briskly over the keyboard, sometimes with a smirk on my face.

Inside my head, there were many tiny particles of light scattered about. Something was moving quickly through them, taking detours this way and that toward a destination. It was like navigating the branching paths of synaptic circuits in my brain, wandering back and forth before continuing in the direction I felt certain about.

I was enjoying choosing my words in my head. Yes, this feeling is incredibly comfortable.

Did you get any sense of anything?

I explained the circuits, the way I search for words while taking detours, and how that is a moment of pure bliss, and they guided me in this direction.

You really are a creator (I'd never been called that before; I was simply happy!)

If you have that much energy, and if there is something you want to convey, why not try moving your hands as if you were doing automatic writing?

Expressions filtered through your head are easy to understand, but why not try expressing the raw you, unreservedly pouring out your inner world?

Surely,something is waiting to be written into this world through your arms.

What? You're kidding.
That one word from the coach pierced my chest like a bullet.

Why not start by writing without worrying about what others think?

Each and every word struck me down, one after another.

I finished the peer practice with a promise to take on the marathon of writing all at once, scribbling away, and trying to turn what flows inside me directly into words.

What was it that came to me in an instant like a bolt of lightning piercing the sky, and then hurried away, leaving my heart—which had been stuck in a rut, unable to break free—behind? As I looked back at the notes I had left in my hand, I stood there, dazed, caught between the worlds of reality and imagination.