I love inspirational writings. I really enjoy wrapping myself around words that are meant to remind us of all we’re capable of, words that are intended to reach into our souls and awaken our fullest potential, stripping our limits away like slowly peeling, fading wallpaper.
These inspirational words keep pouring into my psyche to the point where my enthusiasm balloons and stretches, straining the latex to what seems like endless limits. I expect the thing to explode any moment, instead I feel the continued bloat of inspiration without source. I fervently try to dig that well until I hit the spring, until the muse propels that geyser of creativity and I dance in the showers of the fount.
Eventually I get to the point where I wish the balloon would burst. The frustration of enthusiasm without egress is maddening. I finally get exasperated with all the spiritual cheerleaders and their endless you-can-do-anything cadence. I take all my motivation and use it to barricade the windows and doors, leaving myself to pace the floor of my dreams restlessly, chanting a litany of why can’t I’s and why haven’t I yet’s and when will I finally’s.
It’s during those times I want to poke my finger in the chests of all the inspirational bards and ask them, You think it’s so easy? Just simply believe you can and it will be so? Ever have someone quit smoking simply by telling them all they have to do is quit? As true as that is, there’s a lot more to pinning that demon to the mat.
Yes, I know what I can accomplish. I can accomplish anything I set my mind to… I’ve read that and heard that 4 thousand 3 hundred and 61 times. But here is the root of the issue: The true issue is figuring out what it is I want to accomplish. My goals sometimes feel like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle with only 827 pieces in front of me, all of which are from 3 different sets. The irony, the contradiction, the paradox, is that I have an extremely sweet life. I have everything I could ever want. One of my greatest lifelong dreams sits beside me as I write this, and every day I appreciate the scent of her sweet breath.
Why make goals when I’m so content? The answer is I feel a compulsion to improve, to strive, to reach, to know the purpose of my life is unfolding with complete certainty. I liken it to that feeling of lying in bed so toasty and warm and comfortable yet feeling like I ought to get out of bed and do something. I think the deal is that I want the whole world to know this warm and toasty feeling. I want each and ever person to experience the scent of their special someone’s sweet breath. I want the entire human race to know how delicious life can be, how delicious it is.
So interestingly the inspirational writing that has been resonating with me is the personal struggles of others who have felt they need to share their joy with the world yet felt restrained by the weight of their own unfulfilled potential. When I read the stories of others who have helped people find joy in their lives, who themselves had to figure out how to find satisfaction in their own stillness… those are the ones who are inspiring me, who found themselves when they simply let go… not to sell short those who are providing me and others with inspiring and uplifting messages, but I am exceedingly grateful for those who share their stories of personal discovery, who allow me to see the reflection of my personal frustration in themselves, where they wondered what they were offering the world once upon a time, yet are now inspiring me through those very words, the stories of similar paths they had taken.
I will absorb joy, and with the joy will come the aspirations. I will allow the sweet savoring of the moment to transform into the presentation of the flower, opening effortlessly in my lap, revealing my path before me.