The ideas come quicker when I am still…in those moments when I let my mind be quiet. I cannot coax them or force them. When I try, I catch only quick glimpses of brilliance that flicker and fade away. Some people thrive in chaos, pluck brilliance from turbulence, find their voice when the music swells around them. I have to find my sacred silence; my ideas are attracted to the quiet.
I love those few minutes after I am up and showered, mug of hot tea in hand, before anyone else is awake…when the sun is just starting to glow in the horizon, and the day is only a possibility.
I revel in the water that streams over me as I shower, washing away the doubt and untangling my thoughts. (No photo for this one…you’re welcome.)
I find solace in the hum of my car as I cut through the darkness–toward I-know-not where–yet, I drive onward with anticipation if not certainty. My only music is the chirping crickets and the rustling wind. My only companions are my thoughts.
Walking through the darkened house, long after televisions have been silence, I triple check the doors. Trailing at a respectful distance, the cat’s claws tap along the floorboards as he joins me in my rounds. The headlights of the odd passing car throws shadows across the walls, ricocheting light then a return to dark. The moment of illumination as bright as inspiration, and just as fleeting.
I cannot force ideas any more than I can force love or loyalty. But I have been blessed with both, and I take for granted that the ideas will also flow as freely…if I am patient and quiet.