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5th Gallery Challenge: Infinite Energy

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I'm afraid I don't have any photos for you.  Actually, I have lots of pictures, but the files were too large to upload here!  Anyway, if it's all the same to you, the topic of energy and inspiration got me thinking... 

What inspires me?  Everything.  Nature, cities, animals, people, objects, thoughts, words, music, sounds, sensations, images, old, new, ugly, beautiful, friends, strangers, sobriety, intoxication, dreams, nightmares, love, hate, passion, desire, disappointment, fear, courage, loss, victory, sorrow, joy.  The whole world, and everything in it, is pure energy and it flows through me relentlessly.

I feel as if I am in a constant state of sensory overload.  It is as if all of this energy enters me, takes up residence in my mind, my heart, or my body, and refuses to budge until I find a way to release it.  Being introverted by nature, I learned, at a very young age, to relieve myself through writing.  Still, there aren't enough hours in the day to jot down all of the inspirations I have, much less turn them into something readable.  When I am too busy, or tired, or lazy to write, I become so full that I find it hard to function, as if my spirit has indigestion.

But what is my favorite energy?  What inspires me more than anything else?  What makes me feel alive, almighty, immortal?  Love.  Make no mistake about it.  Love is energy, delicious and addictive, and we all want it whether we're willing admit it or not.  Love resides in our hearts. 

I have an overactive mind.  Friends are always looking at me when I'm quiet and asking "What?!" or telling me to stop thinking because they can see the smoke coming out of my ears.  Although I'm in love with love, my mind is so loud that I often cannot hear my heart.  This is where poetry comes in.  I've discovered that my mind needn't be my only source of words.  Not so very long ago, I was trying to write a poem, trying to pour out all of the thoughts and feelings that were tormenting me, and it was absolute rubbish!  And then I had an inspired thought.  I threw out what I had been working on and started over.  I closed my eyes and quietly tried to find the words to describe exactly what it felt like inside of my heart, both physically and emotionally.  The result was pretty intense.

I can't say I do this all of the time.  The trouble is, my mind thinks my heart is a great fool and not to be trusted.  That's a pity, because on the rare occasions when the two have worked in unison, my life has been truly inspired. 


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