The Trap Of Stability, And Recapturing The Art Of Inspiration

Living in the city much of my perception led to thoughts that strike right at the heart of urban environment. As I stood one day after work I observed as an avenue bustled like a tunnel through an ant farm, not permitting standstill or lollygagging. Inhabitants straddle the line between worthwhile and worthless. An hour for lunch, split in half by commute. The newspaper plays a jazz tune on the modern grand piano in the lobby of success, marking Friday as someone’s birthday, another’s anniversary, or the death of caring about the news. The cars lock their doors at the light to keep their passengers in, and the trains run express until we’ve managed to catch up to stability, sprinting in a direction our compasses overlooked.

I often watch how people seem to be sleep walking through life, mechanically programmed to follow daily, perfunctory routine of wake up, check your phone/email/social media, go to a job that they are not passionate about, hang out with a significant other whom they might love, but do not really see as their soul-mate, go to bed and wake up only to do the same thing again.

Stability and comfort trap us like spider webs and we enwrap ourselves in the silky blanket of routine and predictability. We take things that come at us because we reason that having this is better than not having anything at all. That is all true, but truly happy are those who have the audacity to pursue their inspiration no matter how unattainable it may seem. One can always find a way to make time to do that which they are passionate about. A life is a blank canvas and we hold the brush. We might not have access to all of the colors that we may desire, but we can improvise and mix what we do have in order to paint a picture of our life as close to our dream as possible.

Inspiration is plentiful if the viewer only learns the art of noticing it. In the scope of this seemingly endless world our lives are so ephemeral; therefore there is no time to waste on something that you are not passionate about. I thought about the phrase that I hear so often in America, “I want to find myself.” An interesting phrase, not current as far as I know in the language of any other people, and which certainly does not mean what it implies. I believe that we all know who we are and what we are passionate about, the only thing that needs to be found is the courage to pursue it. An entire world, flat, can only carry so much breath. We are born with lungs to feed hungry vocal chords, but rarely do we hear beautiful dreams expressed and great ideas proclaimed. We are born with hearts to supply blood to reverberating brain cells, but rarely do we use these hearts to feel passion and untamed love. In moments of synapse, we electrocute the mediocre, expunge the mundane, ignite thought unrivaled. We were born with a flame to quench, an internal candle light only our own blowing can darken. Stack the kindling, keep watch, and let your legs dangle over the edge.