I envy people who sink into work or practice, losing track of time. They relax and get to enjoy the process, accepting no criticism, admitting no fault. They are absorbed in the moment and get real progress done.
I suffer anxiety created by my mother and schoolteachers who would never allow such creative reverie. This sunken brainwave is abhorrent to those who demand obedience, compliance, attentiveness. Authoritarians require your servile fear, the ability to throw away all your own thoughts and will, to serve them.
They are behind me. The anxiety is not.
I need to devote myself to creative process again, as I did as a child. I miss that, I miss that smooth, glittering magic of giving full attention, my whole mind wrapped in the ecstasy of a thought, a song, a world of my own.
So here was ten minutes of creative devotion. I am proud of it.