Why am I having such a difficult time with the word, with the concept? Why do I seem to be lacking the inspiration to tackle the essence of inspiration?
Today is the second Tuesday of the month, the day upon which our blogging group, By Invitation Only, discusses/examines/waxes (in many of the exceedingly talented members hands) poetic on a subject we all agree is interesting and sometimes challenging. To see what other members have to say, please click here for the list and the links.
|Pure inspiration, n’est-ce pas?|
Back to my dilemma: The first and most basic definition of inspiration is to “breathe in.”We need air to live. Of course. But consider a banal example of choosing to “breath in”: When we bury our nose in a perfect rose, and we inhale deeply we’ve made a conscious decision. We’re not breathing to live. We’re breathing for joy, for pleasure. Perhaps it’s that breath that inspired a perfumer to create an exquisite fragrance, or made a woman fall in love with the man who gave her the rose — in other words, an inspiration, a magical cause and effect.
Perhaps I cannot precisely explain an inspiration, but to paraphrase a cliche, I know one when I see it.
In other words we must pause, consider, reflect when breathing in the shimmering, sometimes elusive possibilities of inspiration.It is in those moments that the intangible transforms into the possible. It seems to me these are often the instants in life when we are somehow — and it’s all quite mystifying — given a glimpse into the true meaning of magic. Some might say, a God-like communion in some instances. Inspiration is the catalyst for creativity and admiration which can then lead us on to hope, joy, tolerance, compassion, kindness, generosity, beauty, love and perhaps the fulfillment of a dream.
|A tiny corner of our garden in early spring.|
You’re probably thinking, “enough already, with this stream of consciousness blather,” and you’re right. Let me tell you then who and what fulfill my definition of inspiration: my daughter for her infinite kindness, strength and wicked sense of humor; My-Reason-For-Living-In-France for his courage, gentleness and ability to wake-up every morning positive and optimistic; my wonderful friends who, in a word, are one of life’s greatest gifts. . . and then there is France.
France, the way it transforms one’s life can only be described as pure inspiration. I’ll stop now, but I think in a future post I’ll re-examine why France is inspiration.