There’s no telling where it comes from exactly; that spark of inspiration. There’s no way of knowing why it lights when it does. There’s no explaining exactly what the perfect alchemy is that will ignite the flame. Each fiery burst is brought on by its own unique combination of ingredients; no two are ever exactly the same.
Sometimes it begins as a low, slow burning flame that eventually heats us to the point of creative combustion—in the best possible way—our creativity erupting from within. Sometimes it just explodes, a spontaneous inferno, with undeniable power and fierce heat; a scorching shock to the system that rouses us from dormancy and possesses with a near super-human passion to create.
Equally as curious is what happens once the match is struck. What we choose to do with the fire is all up to us. How we react, what is awakened from within or where it might take us, if we choose to surrender to it and engage with the flame. It will likely continue to remain a great mystery. But make no mistake, we are always and forever altered by the flame. Our molecular makeup somehow changed; reshaped, revitalized, reformed from the heat, the power, the beauty of the spark.
If we knew exactly what or why, when or where this spark might come, we’d likely inadvertently; extinguish it. Albeit with the best of intentions, we’d chase it, hunt it down, try to capture or trap it. We’d try to hold on so tight for so long, it would surely die. That’s the thing about the spark of inspiration; it isn’t something that can survive like that. It’s untamed, riotous, unwieldy, and wild. It must remain free to smolder or even to rage, free of definition, of true understanding or containment. Even when invitation is sent and doors are is open, there’s no telling when its next visit will be; consistent only in its elusiveness. That’s likely why we revere it so much. And why when it does come, we owe it our deepest gratitude, for its warmth, light, and brilliant bounty.