Inspiration is a fickle beast.
What inspires me - lighting the fuse that sets off fireworks in my brain; rippling a song through my heart and setting my toes off on the tip-tapping rhythm of a dance - may send you sploshing into a stagnant puddle of despair and crippling boredom.
I think what inspires us depends on who we are. Who we really are. It encompasses self, place and time. And is probably touched by our economic, political and religious beliefs. It is significantly influenced by media pressure - that pressure to be complicit in the admiration for a subject of populist awe - although whether such collective inspiration is inspiration at all or merely a need to fit in and not be perceived of as that weird person who thinks differently from the rest of us, is debatable.
We should be free to take inspiration where we find it and respect that others may be inspired by things that we either dislike or do not understand. Before my wittering gets completely out of hand, my point is (... I have finally got to it, trust me!) that I enjoy being inspired. Inspiration is the library shelf of my ideas. It forces imagination to change tack. It begats creativity, drives our futures and is fun!
Has anything inspired me this week? Well ... yes and no.
No! - for the parts of the week when I was at work.Which was too many parts. Far too many! Enough said!
Actually, that is a little unfair. Work sometimes introduces me to people who are indeed an inspiration. I usually stumble upon this in much the same way as you would find yourself suddenly enjoying a book that you had forced yourself to read ...'just three more pages and then if it's still awful I will put it down.' Sometimes a person walks through my door and my heart sinks only to rise again and soar sun-wards by the time they depart. It's always a surprise and frequently more a revelation about me and my character rather than theirs - I am too quick to conclude all the wrong assumptions about a person. Being proved wrong is inspirational. Usually ...
Yes! - for the touching gentleness of a young man who spent unbroken hours being a friend to a chronically sick child as they both sat engrossed in a computer game.
Yes! - for the wonderful Tate Britain Lowry exhibition.
Yes! - for the leap Bertie Baggins made to snatch the last apple off the apple tree!
Yes! - for my children, repeatedy and always.
Yes! - for the Constable-like expanse of hedge-row criss-crossed countryside bathed in the glowing embers of a setting sun.
Yes! - for the incredible wild-rice, garlic, lemon, broad bean and avocado salad made by a friend.
Yes! - for the abundance of apples destined to become chutney (crumble and apple cake made already).
.
What inspires me - lighting the fuse that sets off fireworks in my brain; rippling a song through my heart and setting my toes off on the tip-tapping rhythm of a dance - may send you sploshing into a stagnant puddle of despair and crippling boredom.
I think what inspires us depends on who we are. Who we really are. It encompasses self, place and time. And is probably touched by our economic, political and religious beliefs. It is significantly influenced by media pressure - that pressure to be complicit in the admiration for a subject of populist awe - although whether such collective inspiration is inspiration at all or merely a need to fit in and not be perceived of as that weird person who thinks differently from the rest of us, is debatable.
We should be free to take inspiration where we find it and respect that others may be inspired by things that we either dislike or do not understand. Before my wittering gets completely out of hand, my point is (... I have finally got to it, trust me!) that I enjoy being inspired. Inspiration is the library shelf of my ideas. It forces imagination to change tack. It begats creativity, drives our futures and is fun!
Has anything inspired me this week? Well ... yes and no.
No! - for the parts of the week when I was at work.Which was too many parts. Far too many! Enough said!
Actually, that is a little unfair. Work sometimes introduces me to people who are indeed an inspiration. I usually stumble upon this in much the same way as you would find yourself suddenly enjoying a book that you had forced yourself to read ...'just three more pages and then if it's still awful I will put it down.' Sometimes a person walks through my door and my heart sinks only to rise again and soar sun-wards by the time they depart. It's always a surprise and frequently more a revelation about me and my character rather than theirs - I am too quick to conclude all the wrong assumptions about a person. Being proved wrong is inspirational. Usually ...
Yes! - for the touching gentleness of a young man who spent unbroken hours being a friend to a chronically sick child as they both sat engrossed in a computer game.
Yes! - for the wonderful Tate Britain Lowry exhibition.
Yes! - for the leap Bertie Baggins made to snatch the last apple off the apple tree!
Yes! - for my children, repeatedy and always.
Yes! - for the Constable-like expanse of hedge-row criss-crossed countryside bathed in the glowing embers of a setting sun.
Yes! - for the incredible wild-rice, garlic, lemon, broad bean and avocado salad made by a friend.
Yes! - for the abundance of apples destined to become chutney (crumble and apple cake made already).
.
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