loose leaf and spiral bound

I have recently been reading the book, "Open Secret: Versions of Rumi" by, John Moyne and Coleman Barks.  Okay, really brief lesson.  Rumi was born in 1207 in what is now Afghanistan and lived until 1273.  For most of his life, he was believed to be a teacher.  End lesson. The remarkable thing about his work is that he doesn't say anything I don't already know, but it is so stunningly simple and clear that it just blows my mind!  Example 1, "When I am with you, we stay up all night.  When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.  Praise God for these two insomnias!  And the difference between them."  Example 2, "Who sees inside from outside?  Who finds hundreds of mysteries even where minds are deranged?  See through his eyes what he sees.  Who then is looking out from his eyes?"  Okay, last one, "The clear bead at the center changes everything.  There are no edges to my loving now.  I've heard it said there's a window that open

Dear readers: I have come to realize that there are not many things I fear more than seeing a completely blank page.  Terrifying.  Full body shudders. Honestly, the things I fear more than this are legit fears - - something awful happening to my husband or daughter, losing my ability to churn out sarcasm and witty retorts  - - you know NORMAL fears. The more I think about it - - it's probably not the blank page that actually scares me - - it is the idea that I won't come up with anything to put down on said page.  Being completely unable to fill it up with meaningful words.  THAT would be friggin' horrible.  Would make my life just DANDY.  (Note: sarcasm is still intact at this point.) I am guessing by now you have probably realized that I am going through a bit of a "dry spell" with my writing and that this little nugget of a post is me working out some psychoanalytic shenanigans in hopes of getting my groove back. with frustrated eye rolls and long win