On Inspiration
Two of my favorite sources of inspiration: lilacs and butterflies. Photo copyright J.M. Rogers.
Inspiration is a warm flush, a first blush. It's the skip of the heart, a flash in the mind, and a light in the eyes. It can be found in the ferocity of a tornado or the calm lap lap lap of waves gently coaxing a sandy beach. It is often found in weddings and at births, but can be found with a bit of help in death and loss. It can be a gentle nudge like a crocus blooming through a snowdrift or tall grasses waving in the breeze, or it can be powerful like bolts of lightning in an arid high desert. Inspiration can happen when we least expect it and are not actively searching for it; it can enlighten during a long draught and endless days of dreariness. Its perk is like the finest espresso and may last only a moment, but write indelibly on the heart for a lifetime.
Inspiration is not selective; it does not differentiate between the good and the bad, rich or poor, blind or sight-seeing. It can burst the floodgates of imagination wide open, pacify angry emotions, or light a raging fire in the deepest parts of a dark, wettened soul. It is the intangible made real, like a story printed in a book; or, it can be the story that stokes the unknowable thoughts of a child into action. It is a seed, waiting for good earth to be implanted into, and can wait years before it shows growth.
In the person needing a reason to go on, inspiration gives hope; in the needy, it gives help; in the downtrodden, it provides compassion. Inspiration is found in love. Thankfully, it is exactly what each of us needs, what makes each day different and the craziness of it all a cohesive unit.