Inspiration is a Wooden Spoon

Inspiration is a wooden spoon. It stirs things, things that are dormant. Things that are sleeping. Things that have been simmering over a low heat, on the back burner. You'd think you have to wait for it. But it comes to us when we stir something up, when we put our minds to something, when we put our hands right into the wet clay of it. And even if its not perfect, even if its not exactly what you had in mind, even if you have to do the sacred artist's rite of at least fifteen disclaimers before you share it - try it. 

Once it gets going, its hard to turn it off. The popcorn of the mind. The bubbling porridge of the mind. The internal explosions. The swarming beehive of the imagination. The looming storm clouds. They gather to dump their heavy rains upon you. Watch out. Because you won't be able to sleep. You won't be able to turn it off. It will grab you by the guts, it will take over your head space, it won't let you go, it won't let you rest. Keep a notebook nearby, or three, your phone, and two soft pencils. Oh, and at least one new black felt-tipped pen. Because when it strikes, its not the soft ordered rainfall of spring, it's the monsoon of high summer. It floods the streets of your synapses, it sweeps the leaves from your thought's gutters, it washes away the old, it forces in the new. It's a monster. 

It doesn't keep office hours. It strikes in the night. It strikes in your dreams. It strikes when the power is out and the coffee supply is low. Its a pain in the butt. Its a nuisance. It's a pest. It's an infestation of beautiful bugs in your brain. When it shows up, be on the ready, take action. Get up. Record. Write it down. Sing it out. Hum aloud. Cut and stitch. Make your lists. Sketch. Feel. Think. Dream. Come alive. And then fall, exhausted, into another wide open dreamworld.