Inspiration, being inspired. To have a spire rise within us.
Within us when we muse, when we think, when we're day dreaming, ideas come from somewhere...
They start with a seed, whatever has set us thinking, they grow from who knows where?
Where does inspiration come from? Some might say from within our own minds,
but for me, it comes from without not within. A repository of information.
Somewhere outside of us, in the ether, another dimension.
The void, the Chasm, the place where everything sprang from in less than an instant.
Billions of years ago there was nothing, or at least there was supposed to be.
Then bang, everything appeared as if by magic and spread around.
Cooled, formed, got further apart having been so close.
Then we appeared out of nature, with a reason.
That has sustained us until now, only rationalising our position in the grand scheme.
Working out our place, using the scientific method, guesswork, instinct.
If only everyone knew where the source of all breakthroughs,
broke through... The majority were in dreams,
as Agatha Christie claimed, whilst washing dishes, where her best ideas came from.
When our attention is elsewhere, asleep perchance to dream, dropping off.
Not thinking, feeling, not grasping, being, not trying, relaxing.
All our best ideas were accidents, happy ones.
That lead us to war and atom bombs.
And death across the world.
We live and die.
New films, things in the present, tell of a future coming soon to a planet near you.
For me everything out there tells a tale similar to the one behind it all, somehow.
When we try to come up with something original, it's coloured by the past.
And a murky time called not yet, hasn't occurred except in our minds.
Creation and destruction merely aspects of the same process.
When I walk I am trampling living things to death.
So I had better make sure I need to go.
Wherever it is inspiration leads me.
I hope it's finally to,
Love
Jon
x
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