Inspiration

You ever get that feeling where you're truly inspired by something but... you're not sure how?


My mom works for a care facility and a patient there asked her to read some of his writings from after he had had a stroke. She brought the notebook home. English being my mother's second language and the writing itself being barely legible, she asked me to read it to her. It had some bits of odd dreams, but mostly the passages were recollections of a cowboy life. I know nothing about that sort of life and have never been interested, but somehow that writing captivated me. My mom told me this man is quite sharp- reads a lot. After finishing, she acquired a new blank notebook from my excess of school supplies to give to him. I asked her if I could write something to put in his new notebook for him to read.


As I sat down to a piece of paper, my thought process immediately geared itself to its default: poetry. There were no restrictions. There were no distractions. The materials were there. The internet was available to help me find rhymes and synonyms. A man, a writer, depicted pieces of his life and mentality after having a stroke and I had the privilege of being exposed to it. I was very inspired. Minutes passed and nothing magically appeared on my paper. 


I felt the surge of rhythm, I felt the blossoming of phrases, I felt the passion of writing- my lines stayed blank. 


How could it be? I felt the same tingling in my chest and rush of blood to my head, which I call the feeling of inspiration, yet I was having the hardest time figuring out how I was inspired. 


I've come to a conclusion. Some inspiration is simply meant to be felt. Not every feeling of surging rhythm or blossoming phrases must be depicted. When the words are naturally accompanied with the feeling, that's inspired writing. When the feeling comes stripped naked of formal language, that's inspiration by itself.