Which makes the business of writing a tricky one. By necessity, the act of writing puts on hold The Present; writing is always already late, always already in hindsight of event/thought, even when simply in anticipation of said event/thought and, more significantly, when the written material is altogether imaginary,
There are many kinds of writing, of course - journalistic, expositional, fictional - and certain kinds of writing can more readily amble along the Awareness state of mind than others. In transcribing an interview or writing a book review, it is much easier to remain in one's Present brain-state than when, say, producing a dialogue between fictional characters. The former requires technical skill in navigating the temporal, the latter demands a conscious, intentional suspension of the Present.
My writing this piece arises from a personal foray into the practice of mindfulness, as well as the philosophies and states of minds to do with spirituality. The more mindful and - let's use that pop-psych word 'Aware' - the more Aware I am, the less my inclination to write. Such a phenomenon could be attributed to general sloth, though I doubt it. Too often I face the dreaded blank screen, squeezing words out like they're begotten of blood, and then I realise, quite regretfully, that this Awareness - this wonderful thing the self-acclaimed pop psych doctors have proclaimed Holy Grail - is indeed it. In an absolute state of Awareness, there is no need for written material. For there is much more life in Life, in breathing and connecting with other people and conducting on-the-spot personal reflections and self-inventories, than suspending the Present to write it all down.
There is a tingle of the bittersweet in my fingers. Something's gonna give.