This journal and the encouragement of my friend have resulted in hundreds of essays I've written over the past few years. Lately though I have hit a wee bit of a dry patch. The outlines of essays are piling up, but I am having difficulty doing any writing of real consequence. Granted I've been dealing with some heath issues, but it is, nevertheless, frustrating. Perhaps it is time to see how powerful my journal is, time to hold it again and accept its inspiration. Was that not it's intended purpose? Or will I need to sit again with my muse for a more forceful message?