The Sparkle of Inspiration
I was in my kitchen cutting a mango the other day, not thinking about anything in particular, when suddenly I saw a beautiful sculpture within the cut mango. I laughed to myself but this began an inner dialogue about the concept of Inspiration. What is it? What qualities does it posses? How do we get it? And most of all how do we hold on to it? As an artist and a human, Inspiration is vitally important to my existence and it would seem that I’m always seeking inspiration. But after the mango, I wonder if it’s something to be actively sought or something that one just allows when the mind stops it’s constant chatter. To be inspired is to have the world at your fingertips in your mind. It’s knowing anything you can imagine is possible.
It’s exhilarating at the onset but as it fades, I’m knocked down to a reality without it. That aha moment is usually referred to as a “spark of inspiration” but the more I contemplate this, it feels more like a ” sparkle of inspiration” to me. A sparkle as the verb shimmers and dances, as the noun it’s “full of life” and dynamic. A spark seems to be a single point in time, a singular thought that’s gone as quickly as it arrives. But a sparkle arrives spontaneously and lingers a bit. And maybe inspiration isn’t your common thought, of which we have thousands throughout our day, but rather is an illuminated thought that holds a special quality which allows it to somehow feel much different than the others.
When I have an inspiring moment it usually catches me off guard. Sometimes it feels very subtle and other times startling, but once arrived, its effervescent quality is explored and enjoyed. And often times it results in not having any manifested end but the experience itself is delicious enough to want to have it again and again. As a kid I loved sparklers on the fourth of July. I thought they were so much more exciting that loud firecrackers. The firecracker was gone with a bang but the sparkler lasted just long enough to capture my delight in it’s existence.
By Christina Bertsos