Inspiration. You can wait for it. You can open yourself to it. You can prepare yourself to receive it. But you can’t ask it to come.
How easy our lives as creative people would be if the startling, captivating, outrageous ideas would come to us on-demand, like a movie downloaded from the Internet. Instead, so much of the time we have to sweat for it. Struggle and suffer for it. Battle ourselves for it. Hate ourselves into trying harder, doing more, doing better.
When the amazing times come, they don’t necessarily come as thunderclaps… although the thunder does happen. Sometimes they come disguised as another thing altogether—and not necessarily a thing related to the work. Other times, they are seedlings in drought, fighting to live. The things we water with patience drawn from a nearly-dry well.
The ecstatic moments are dimensions that float around us; that cross our paths of their own momentum and design. We borrow from that unseen place in ideas that seem to exist whole, there.
Dimension-head is where we hope to live. Dimension-head is where we rarely do.
None of this will come as the least surprise to the creatives out there…the writer’s especially, I think.. You’ve been very supportive. I appreciate that. Thank you.
I’m still working, still trying, still waiting for the thunderbolt. Or the first hint of seedling in the dusty ground. I’m waiting for the dimension to open. Where the effortless creativity lives.