So my blog posting is still rather sporadic, but hey, at least I'm here!
This is my final theme-y post on inspiration, and as the title so cleverly implies, finding it everywhere. Though I've come to believe that inspiration is part searching (an active hunt for things that inspire) and part allowing yourself to be open to it.
You can't force inspiration. When I tried, tried, tried to be inspired NOW it didn't happen. When I wasn't thinking about it so much, I was able to see how the leaves falling a certain way was kinda beautiful, and how those same falling leaves could mean so many different things to so many different people.
I allowed a picture to spawn ten different scenes belonging to ten different stories.
I allowed a song to make me wish I could write something that would make someone else feel the way that song made me feel.
I allowed an interview question to give me an idea for a broken new world.
I allowed myself to find inspiration in a box of wax crayons, a four leaf clover, the tangy sweet smell of an energy drink, the clatter of dishes, a Ferris wheel covered in lights at night, the scent of ink from a cheap bic pen, the striking of a match, foggy morning air, the feel and smell of a new book, the crunching noise gravel makes under a pair of boots, a jar of mismatched pens and pencils, uneven cobblestones, melting an ice cube on the back of a sunburnt neck, the clang of putting quarters into a pay phone, the rainbow colors in gasoline puddles.
And so, so, so much more.
Because I learned something.
It's not about looking for inspiration. It's about allowing yourself to see.