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Anna Wili Highfield
If only I knew where you came from inspiration. If only we could have a serious conversation, and you could tell me, exactly what feeds you and what lets you fly… what nurtures you and what makes you die. But you do not talk to me… instead of that, you seem to like playing Hide and Seek. You like hiding behind the rocks, and letting me chase you like there is no tomorrow. You like watching me wait for you… as the clock ticks those long hours away and I grow even more in despair. I sigh… Why can’t you just show me the hidden secrets of the muses?
And then you come to me. Just like light into darkness, you come to me. You never whisper softly, you more like scare me back to life. Ecstasy starts running in my veins, and my hands get a life of their own.
And then you go again… and nothing is left, except what you and these bare hands created. In those times… the worst… I am left alone again, waiting for you.
” I learned … that inspiration does not come like a bolt, nor is it kinetic, energetic striving, but it comes into us slowly and quietly and all the time, though we must regularly and every day give it a little chance to start flowing, prime it with a little solitude and idleness. ”
Brenda Ueland, 1891 – 1985