A few days ago, I woke up from a nightmare. In it, I was with my friend and our dogs. We were all enjoying a summer day by the river. Out of nowhere, a tidal wave came upstream and drowned some of the people near us. My friend and I somehow stayed afloat. This scene happened repeatedly, until I woke up. 

I’m accustomed to vivid dreams, and they’re usually not terribly difficult to decipher. In this case, I’d been reading about tidal bores (i.e., when tidewaters come upstream in a river) the night before, and I’ve been feeling overwhelmed and exhausted for months. 

Related: I haven’t written on this blog in months. 

It’s not just that I’m tired and don’t feel like writing (though that’s true). It’s not just that any “extra” computer time outside doing two full-time jobs has been filled with this semester’s part-time job (though that’s also true). 

In fact, the bigger issue is the name of this damn blog. On a host of topics, I’ve struggled to see that there’s more. For example:

Continued mass killing in some parts of the world doesn’t leave a lot of room for inspiration. And closer to home, I’m often forced to contemplate the situations causing kids harm here. 

Even as I enjoy the days getting longer, I wonder how much of the summer ahead will be shrouded in smoke and which of us will be surrounded by wildfire. 

Politicians farm the rage of angry and entitled people…who just seem angry and entitled – even as I know that a more generous version of myself might identify them as fearful and in need of compassion.

Against all this background and every time I’ve felt compelled to write anything, I’ve been struck with a case of the “why bothers”. 

But more recently, I’ve begun to remember: I’ve felt worse. This post from several years ago was during a particularly dark time for me. A few months later (and coincidentally on what turned out to be the first day I experienced a pandemic), I wrote about taking care in tough times. 

A couple years after that, this post came as celebration of all we overcame together. 

Across those years, I have been – am still! – wrestling with a quote I shared about people doing their best. 

In other words, my struggle with the idea that “maybe there’s more” has been a feature of this thing all along. So, I guess there’s only one thing to do: get back to writing. Maybe there’s more. 

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