Scheherazade85

(Listening/watching: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jgmgE-QDzA)

I am a sucker for anything that stimulates the tiny innumerable cubicles of my mind. Gladly, it doesn't stop there. The stimulation is only a beginning, as it is meant to be.

I have just discovered what it is in stories, in songs, in movies, or in crap that urges me to light a cigarette like it's the last one (just like what I'm doing now), to sometimes cry unstoppably without warning like in that last scene in Dead Poets Society, and to dream of possibilities that may never come.

It is simply the theme of inspiration. I have uncovered this constant need to be moved (in whatever way).

I can think of how music takes us to somewhere far away or lifts us up from all the **** that happens without our control and how it moves us without even meaning to. I can also think of some people who touch our lives without them knowing it.

You may be wondering what this video link has got to do with this post. In fact, nothing. Except that it has been posted by someone that I admire and venerate (without her knowing it and without her even knowing me) in her blog. She has successfully shared it and like the rest of her writings, it has put me in an unexpected commonality of being in the same trance and reverie that she extracts out of life's different abstractions and hapless entanglements.

And I know it doesn't stop there. Inspiration doesn't necessarily have to stem from grand things. In fact, most of the time, it is more dramatic and full of impact and bearing when it emanates from the subtleties, from the seemingly imperceptible and from the understated. Ultimately, inspiration doesn't occur only when one is happy and contented. Our finest moments take place in anguish , angst, or in any discomfort for it is in those times that we, out of necessity, rise above our pigeon holes and search for grander and more worthwhile things than our inadequate selves.

That is what I'm talking about. That ingredient. That elusive, and at the same time, spectacular ingredient.

This, I am sure. As how Oscar Wilde (then again) in De Profundis has put it, everything that is realized is right.