What inspires us? Or specifically, what inspires you? Is it people, or music, or God, or literature, or lanscapes, or photography, or laughter, or worship, or community, or family, or writing, or singing, or texting, or sports, or beauty, or fashion, or weather, or gardens, or seasons, or Facebook, or HTML, or videos, or movies, or zombies, or vampires, or hash tags, or money, or breathing, or thinking, or reflective surfaces, or fictional people, or historical people, or science fiction, or stars, or planets, or check marks, or grades, or scholarships, or werewolves, or SAT scores, or random freak happenings, or musicals, or theaters, or architecture, or spelling, or grammar, or YouTube, or the fair, or anger, or your childhood, or sadness, or joy, or memories, or Twitter, or sprinklers, or ice cream, or baking, or reading, or sprinkles, or fictional worlds, or the future, or heaven, or hell, or angels, or demons, or clouds, or any number of the millions upon millions of things that strike that something inside of us that wants to create, to be remembered, to feel, and make others feel?
What inspires you?
Lately I've been in this sort of creative rut, because all of my energy is sucked up by relationships and school and church, and trying to still stay close to God through all of it. The first time in months that I've been able to make something remotely creative was when I sat down to write a letter to my ex-boyfriend. One of those never-will-be-sent letters, because I needed for those feelings to be out of me, for them to mean something, but I couldn't handle telling him or any of my friends because I'm smart enough to know it would just blow up in my face. And for a few hours, yes, I was sad. But after it was done I felt a little bit emptier, like there was room for me to create again. Since then I've been able to feel everything a little clearer, process my world in a better way. Last night when my whole family was gone for one reason or another I just sat in the rain with my dog next to me, and thought. Not about how badly I felt, or how much I'd ruined things with so many people, or how to make things better and fix everything. I just thought. I let my mind run free for a few minutes.
I thought about the rain. How it dripped down on my shoulders and soaked through my shirt, a shirt my dad had bought me because I loved Pirates of the Caribbean so much in junior high. I watched the rain drops hit the street and was overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and I thought of how there were probably billions of raindrops falling from the clouds so far away from me, and how there were more raindrops falling within my eye line than there are people in the world. I thought about how big our God is and how perfectly he has orchestrated this world we live in. I thought about the rain falling softly on my head and concentrated on feeling every last molecule of it, just glad to be completely certain of something as simple as a raindrop hitting my head. I pondered the sensation of a raindrop sliding down my face, catching on my eyelash, and dropping on my knee, and precisely how different it was than feeling a tear follow a similar path; the tear would be a part of me, it represents a feeling or emotion, its hot and stinging and salty, while a raindrop is something foreign and alien, a part of a water cycle that will continue no matter what I decide, its cool, clean, calm, and refreshing.
When I came in to get cleaned up before my family returned home I was full of feelings again, the hole left by the letter filled to the brim. But it was different, because the emotion and creativity and thought that filled it was not from me. It came from outside of me, I felt inspired. I wanted to tun to my room and just start writing before it all escaped, because each of those thoughts could be a full formed story or essay by the end of the night. Instead I showered and by the time I was out my sister was home and we sat on the couch and shared a bag of candy and a movie, one more thing to add to the list of moments that inspired me that night.
And today, what inspires me?
Everything. I found my creativity again, after all these months. I've devoured ten books in the last week. My mind is swirling with the impressions from music, videos, friends and their thoughts, classes, prayer, poetry, family relationships. I can't seem to write fast enough to get it all down.
So for all of you who care enough to read my thoughts online: I'm sorry that I've been inconsistent about posting, and I'm not saying its going to get much better, but now I can promise the words won't be empty.
