What inspires you?
I mean deep down in your soul, where it counts. What is that thing that makes you feel alive? Not just going through the motions of life but really ALIVE? That thing that makes your heart shine, makes your soul awaken, makes you….ah….gasp! Gasp for breath. Gasp as if you could grab it and hold it inside of you forever.
What is that one thing that the Universe uses to grab you by the arm and pull you forward, forward to be the true you, to be truly alive?
I thought I had found it many times in many different things and people. What did I know?
Heartache, tragedy, responsibility and disappointment all covered it up and smothered it, threw it in a vault, locked it up and threw away the key.
Well I finally found the key.
Some people are lucky. The key to inspiration is handed to them on a sliver platter as if a distinguished butler was holding it, lifting up the cloche* to reveal its brilliance. Shining so brightly with your initials inscribed on it. It was made for you. Take it and run!
Others have the same scenario, but they hold their hand up and push the platter away like a plate of liver and onions.
I don’t need that. Thanks Jeeves. Good day. I’ll ring the bell when I need you.
Then you get hungry, change your mind, ring the bell, but Jeeves doesn’t answer. You missed your chance.
Then life happens, you try and forget about it, pretend you didn’t care anyway. Then 32 years go by.
The Universe is magical. It knows we’re all just a bunch of dummies so it intervenes. Usually when you least expect it. Sometimes it sends you signs, you ignore them, didn’t even know they were signs anyway.
But sometimes, if you’re lucky, the Universe sends you one so big, you can’t ignore it. Hopefully your soul is awake enough to see it and your heart is open enough to receive it.
Jeeves is back. Is this what you’ve been looking for? Were you even looking at all?
Jeeves! Where have you been? He’s been waiting. Waiting for you to be ready.
Your inspiration is here. Right in front of you. Take it, cherish it, gasp it in like it’s your last breath. Hold on to it forever.
So what did Jeeves’ key unlock for me? Well you’re reading it right now.
I never really thought about being a writer. Except for maybe a week in freshman year of college at Montco. My English teacher said I should consider writing for the school paper or creative writing club or whatever else it is you write for at a community college. (One of the best community colleges by the way.)
I thought, this guy is crazy. I’m not good enough to be a writer. Maybe good enough to get an A in English Comp I, but anything else? C’mon, get real bro.
I think his name was Jeeves and he was holding a plate of liver and onions.
What would I even write about? I have nothing important to say. Nothing anyone would even want to read about. *Self doubt….crushing dreams since 1973*
Besides all that, I don’t even like writing!
I’m too indecisive, writing a sentence, rewriting it ten times, looking up every word in the thesaurus to find a better word, then looking up that word and the next word and the next until I’m off on such a tangent of words I forgot the original word I was looking up!
Exhausting. Twenty minutes later–I’ll just stick with the first word I had.
But that was to get a good grade from Jeeves, disguised as my English teacher.
What if I just wrote whatever comes to my mind, not worrying about picking the perfect synonym for a word that I don’t deem perfect, not worrying about punctuation, not worrying about content or lack thereof, not worrying about people’s opinions on said content, or lack thereof.
Just writing–flowing, natural, billowy, carefree writing. Like being on a cloud. One of those simple, happy clouds on the cardboard map Jim O’Brien on Channel 6 used to give us the weather forecast. So lo-tech. So late ’70s – early ’80s. So great. Loved their little cloud smiles 
Hard to write like that though when instead of being on a cloud you feel like you’re caught in the middle of a dark, swirling vortex of pain and suffering.
The tornado of my late teens.
But the storm eventually passed. The tornado evaporated, spit me out along the way and the sun shined and the rainbow appeared. Finally. I had survived.**
Now what? Oh yeah, that writing thing.
Nah, I have better things to do. What other careers can I find to be interested in for ten minutes? So very busy. 28 years of busyness. (I almost typed “business” and just realized how ironic it is how similar those words are. Just sayin. P.S. busyness is now a word.)
And just rereading the “I never thought about being a writer” line, that sounds kinda arrogant. What, like I’m officially a writer now just because I decided to type out a few thoughts I’ve had lately? Who do I think I am?
Again, self doubt.
A friend of mine recently pointed this out to me. He’s right. I do this a lot. Time to stop doing that.
Time to start writing.
Now what the hell do I write about.
CM
*Cloche – only know that word from watching Chopped on the Food network. Everyone knows I’m not that refined.
**Ok so cliches are cheesy. Storm, rainbow blah blah blah. I know. Sometimes they just get the point across the best. But I actually did have a dream about a rainbow at that traumatic time in my life, and afterward things got better. Dreams are powerful things. Just ask that friend of mine.
11/21/19
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