Thursday, October 11, 2012

the endless and tireless procession of ideas

Where do they come from?  Ideas.

It's not something I had thought about much, if ever. I know my thoughts are not my own and I live by the adage there is nothing new under the sun.  But where do those flashes of enlightenment come from.

Let's be upfront for a second here.  I don't believe in anything.  I don't think there's a universal mind tying us all together.  For myself, there is no such thing as a muse.  There are no gods or a God sending out wave after wave of inspiration. 

Yet it comes from somewhere.  I just don't know where.

As I've gotten older I have realized just how much of life I've not questioned.  When you don't believe in anything you tend to take things at face value.  I've spent most of my life believing that
'what is, is!' 

But I've also been privy to an ungodly (yes, I see the irony in that word) amount of magic in my life and in the world around me.  Does it frustrate me?   Not at all.

In fact I would like to experience some type of transcendant spiritual experience.  But it's for all the wrong reasons.  I know I've been too focused on the end results.  But who's to blame for that?  Is blame the right reaction to a life lived all about being in the moment and existing just for existence's sake?  Is that even a properly written sentence or have I had too much red wine at bed time?

Like everyone who writes I struggle with inspiration.  Or maybe I struggle with the discipline necessary to finish what I start. 

Yes, I think that is the problem.  I have been a whisper in the wind, landing here and there, doing as I please, tied down to whatever principles and values serve me best at that time.  I want to believe it is the wrong thing to do, but it has gotten me this far.  Hasn't it? 

I don't know.  Have I stopped making sense or am I just listening to a Talking Heads song?  I have no idea.

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