Two roads

I have decided, that my block is a result of a period of attempted growth.
When I was younger, I wrote about what I saw and what I knew. I was descriptive. Nature, people, events; abstract but concrete at the same time. I can write about nature easily. I can describe what I see and make it sound pretty- invoke images and memories, but that's not what I've been attempting to write. Somewhere along the line, I began to crave to write about ideas. Ideas that I haven't fully explored and that's where I found my block. It's not blocking an entire path, just one branch of that path, my road less traveled by, if you will. And now that I've realized this, it's not so much a battle as it is an obstacle I need to find my way around in order to grow into the writer I want to be.

Does it seem mind boggling to think of how writing about writing helps me sort out my problems related to that very thing?
And through it all, it feels like I'm coming home.