Inspiration- like trying to capture a photo of the supermoon in the dark on a busy freeway…

I tried and failed three times to write a post yesterday. Each time I would spend several minutes starting into space struggling to find inspiration, followed by a promising start which went nowhere after the first paragraph, followed by an interruption, followed by a decision to put it aside for just a little while while I figured what I was trying to say, followed by starting over. 

And I was doing so well with my posts of late. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to say, it was that I didn’t know what I was trying to say about them. I mean, I don’t always know what I’m trying to say when I start writing: sometimes I do, but more often I will get started and discover that the words coming out of me are not the words I was conscious of in my mind. Or I’ll have a plan: something that I want to write, and it will take on a life of its own and change its shape as I struggle to mold it into human language. 

Times like this it is easy to see why some might believe that inspiration is an external force, or how an individual might be driven to madness by trying to take responsibility for such elusive ephemera. I sometimes wonder whether these thoughts would ever reach the surface if I did not actively sketch them out at the tip of a pen. If I didn’t know how to draw, would these images still exist? If I lacked the words, would I be i unable to speak a thought into existence? Is there music left unheard because I do not know how to play it? 

And do these things exist before they are expressed, or is it their expression that makes them real? If I failed to put pen to paper, would they still exist? Would they afind another pen to write them into the world? The only thing I know for sure it’s that it is my hand holding the pen, and I might as well put it to paper and see what comes out.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on November 16, 2016.

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