A couple of weeks ago, I introduced a new series called Finding Inspiration. I wanted to explore and hopefully find an answer to the question of “what is inspiration,” and today, I’m finally able to get started with just that.
Inspiration is a word we all hear regularly, especially in a field as creativity-driven as blogging. But when asked to define it, we often struggle to pinpoint exactly what inspiration is.
Almost like “love” or “happiness,” inspiration is a word that is more of a feeling, and less of a tangible something. It can’t be defined in any one way, because it’s different for everyone who experiences it. But that doesn’t stop us from wanting to better understand that elusive word; so today, I’m going to kick off this series by talking about what inspires me.
From the time I was young, I can remember loving solitude – whether that meant lying alone in my room reading a good book, playing with my cat, or going on long walks by myself.
At night, I would lie alone in my bed writing entire novels in my mind, books that never seemed to end but always left me with a hundred new words to write down in the morning. I would go on long walks by myself, at a trail near my home that only one friend of mine ever knew about. I’d spend hours sitting on a bridge above the Schuylkill River, dreaming of the one-days and the what-ifs, and somehow, this alone-time always left me feeling more refreshed and ready to create than being around friends and family ever did.
But somehow, it’s the rain that always gets me – that scent of it in the early morning hours on a Saturday in April, when it’s only just started to warm up outside and you can smell the new season coming out of the suddenly green grass. The smell of life just beginning all around me, as cliche as that sounds, seems to get me every time.