Inspiration

Inspiration, oh inspiration, where art thou?

This is the crassest of creations – a writing about writing thing. I hope it will go somewhere productive.

Already the nature of inspiration is being questioned. It sounds like a think separate from us, passing through us: I have become inspired.

In moments of uninspiration, then, is inspiration not there?

I feel that inspiration of all things should be the final nail in the coffin of intellectual property; the person who wrote the something doesn’t truly know where the idea came from. They were but a conduit, or a node, of inspiration.

Good habits and writing discipline will sure make things flow out more easily. But when the well is dry, it is truly dry.

Creativity itself is under attack in the society of the Pound Stirling. If something has no utility on the market, it is child’s play, or a mere hobby. Things need to be created to be sold.

I have no inspiration to make things for sale. The smith forges a hundred tools and throws them over his shoulder. Let whoever finds them, find them.

Nothing should be done unless it is what one wishes to do. We all have core beliefs, and we all have the capacity to override or live up to those core beliefs. Every day millions toil in servitude to sustain a machine they neither understand nor care for. I don’t want my inspiration to come at the expense of their souls, nor mine.

My inspiration is antagonistic. Not always, but often. Force has to come from somewhere.

The most prevalent and obvious source is all around us – the depravity so taken for granted by so many. This is a vice closing around the soul, and one that we must all collectively and individually strive to avoid being crushed by.

I have no inspiration today. Not to play music, nor to continue my great works. These things are in truth beyond my ability to grasp. That is why they are like magick; mana from the immanent heavens.

They will come back again, or they won’t. It is ok either way. Something always comes to fill the void.

Rather then lament the lack of inspiration, it is better to see it as the Winter of the soul. Even the muses and the naiads and the fey need to rest.

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I am, I exist, the world is, the world exists

Aged around three I gazed at my hand and thought ‘I can’t believe I am actually here! I can’t believe this is real and I exist!’

I remember it distinctly. I recognized myself, and the stupendous odds of my ever having incarnated.

It took twenty seven years, but just this week it truly hit me that the world actually is, and the world actually fucking exists. It actually is, it really is, it moves through time, it is. I can’t believe it is actually there, its incredible! The stupendous odds of it.

Strange things happen in this universe.

 

 

Procrastination

Start writing it

Ask her out

Cancel your card

Leave the house

Take the risk

Send it in

Procrastination – anxiety in action. The brain’s version of two feet fumbling at the edge of a cliff, refusing to just bungeeeeeeee…

The difference between good and great is that good procrastinates and gets there eventually, whereas great is already one step ahead, having missed the procrastination stage.

The worst that can happen is that you could trap yourself in a spiral of negative thinking and unproductive worry!

This means that you are in control of how you feel today. It means that the insurmountable mountain is actually not that steep.

It means that all of the barriers on your path only seem so high because you are hunkering down.

It means that all of the monsters on your quest are infamous only because other people are so afraid of them.

I think procrastination is a form of enchantment – only, in the negative sense of overestimating threat. I suppose dread and fear is as much a part of the imagination as anything!

But it is not a part of the imagination we want to allow to rule our lives.

To ‘not do’ is not the safe option. To ‘not do’ is how phobias and disorders develop, and once they do, it is not easy to reverse them (believe me, I am in the middle of one).

If only I had done this, if only I had done that – also not useful. Procrastination.  What has been is not necessarily what will be. And who can tell where each path would have led, or what you would be now if you had done what.

What you have before you is what you can mould the most. Your destiny is undeniably a continuous thing which cannot be altered easily, as is your character. But the small steps you can make to begin changing that destiny – they can happen anytime.

And once you start winning and changing, the results are exponential. Find something you can feasibly achieve, and feasibly achieve it.

Procrastination – the product of too much intellect and not enough feeling. Get out of your mind for a moment, and back into the whole of yourself…

There is a world to explore

There are unjust systems to deconstruct

There is your novel to write

There is love to be found

There is music to be played

There are seeds to be planted

There is climate destruction to be undone

There is a Trump to be dethroned

 

(If you like this post, share it on social media and help your friends stop procrastinating!)

Enchantment

Without enchantment, we are lost in the world. Without myth, guideless. Without spirit, we are dead inside. Without art, we are silent.

The world-as-it-is: not suitable for our primed imaginations. Stillness is just a reprieve, sleep a chance to dream. The vigour of endless Western minds; ceaseless, like the snout of an anteater. The world is layered with our mark.

Then let us do the best that we can do with our candor and sheer energy. Let us enchant nature and live there, among the wood sprites and the sacred trees. Let us catch that mana, let us fly these concrete prisons.

Profit is a road leading nowhere. But the deep wood and the bramble grove is an infinite, winding adventure…