Fire in the belly

I've been aware of the physical changes of aging for some time: everything that moves aches. I thought of the mental consequences as something that comes later, in the direction of losing mental sharpness, but there's a more subtle change I'm becoming aware of: I'm losing the fire in the belly. I don't have the obsessive energy to write that I used to have. I am not driven the way I once was. None of this is "bad" but it's different, enough so to change the rhythm of my activities.

Interestingly enough, the mental activity alone feels the same but the fire that drives this energy to specific articulation, to actual "writing," is now just a glowing coal of its former flame. Not so long ago, getting as little actual writing done as I've managed so far this summer, I would have felt unproductive and depressed. Not so. I feel "strange," still adjusting to this new rhythm, but I definitely am not experiencing the negative consequences that inactivity used to trigger. I've always made large demands on myself, and this too has changed.

Changes, changes. Interesting to watch yourself as if from afar.