As much as you know you have to, it’s just hard having to convince yourself every single day to keep going, to keep doing this.
It’s just hard, and I’m just tired. I’m tired of it sometimes. Like right now.
And I’m quite sure I’m not the only one.
And I guess this is why we seek, and need, inspiration.
Because it’s hard. It’s hard to keep your face and your feet pointed forward, unrelenting, despite the raging swirl of fear and uncertainty that licks at your heels, and perhaps undermines the entire path you think you are walking on.
This is why, I suppose, it’s important that we lift each other.
Since in those moments, when life is coming to us with ease, and with beauty (those moments do come; several of them came to me yesterday), we can create a reflection of that experience– that utterly bearable lightness of being that sails through our soul like a cool drink or a child’s laughter– to remind others who are struggling that it will not always be so.
This is what inspiration is.
It can take many forms: some as simple as a smile, some as elaborate as a song, or a painting, a movie, a joke, a heroic act, or an entire lifetime built from bricks like these.
Whatever form it takes, inspiration is a reminder — a missive sent back to Earth from the outpost of Ease — that things will not always be so.
You will laugh, again. You will love, and be loved. You will be moved by a song, brought to tears by a joke, deeply touched by an act. You will be rendered speechless by something you see in nature that stretches credibility with its raging, searing, and utterly surprising beauty.
These things will come to you again. Your burden will not always be so. And rest, assured, it is shared by all of us.
So let us complain, together, to the world, to the wind, with a deep and honest sigh.
For it is hard.
But it is, also, beautiful.
And it will always be so, again.
(Here’s proof: after writing this, I just inspired myself, and was brought to tears, by something that someone did forty-five years ago.)