Blockage, in small doses, is what makes movement felt . I’ve come to love the phrase “more or less unblocked.” It’s honest. It’s lived-in. It admits that there’s still a pebble in your shoe, but you’re walking anyway. There’s still a knot in the rope, but you’re pulling it through.
“I’ll start when I feel ready.” “I’ll write when I have the perfect idea.” “I’ll love again when I’m fully healed.” more or less unblocked
A partial block is not a wall. It’s a speed bump. And speed bumps force you to slow down, look around, and choose your next move deliberately rather than barreling forward on momentum alone. Blockage, in small doses, is what makes movement felt
Let me explain. We imagine the unblocked life as a straight highway at 3 AM—no traffic, no construction, no speed limits. Just you and the horizon. It admits that there’s still a pebble in
More or less unblocked.
Partial blockage breeds creativity. Total blockage breeds despair. But total unblocking ? That breeds shallowness. If you take one thing from this, let it be this small, unglamorous practice:
But have you ever actually driven that road for more than an hour? It becomes hypnotic. Then boring. Then terrifying. Without resistance, without the small friction of a curve or a slowdown, the mind wanders into dangerous blankness. You stop paying attention. You stop feeling the wheel.