What makes me inspired? Sometimes it's a song that makes me want to grab my sneakers and run. Sometimes it's watching someone in their moment. Sometimes it's an instagram picture (for real). Or sometimes it comes from evaluating my past week and sighing with disapproval (although I am a huge advocate of not being hard on yourself, I think it is a healthy evaluation). Whatever it is that inspires me, most of these moments come from the days that I don't follow my normal routine.
I have always had a hard time breaking out of my routine. It came from a place of fear. The fear of losing control of everything if I just loosen the reigns a little bit. Food. Studying. Money. Alcohol. This habitual control mechanism was a way for me to know for certain that I will not regress or fall apart in whatever I am doing. This included not taking chances and living comfortably in the walls of my comfort zone. I did this for a long time before my emotional brain took over my logical and caused me to make some random, spur of the moment chances that only popped up when my mind had enough of the control. The wild side that was being cut off had enough!!! Traveling, tattoos, hair styles, phone calls- most of my favorite and most exciting decisions were made this way. When I started to let go of my control.
Looking back on those choices and reflecting on them inspires me. I am ready to make more of them. It doesn't mean that I will quit my job cold turkey (which i've done before). Or sell all of my things (which I have also done before). But I will learn to make more choices that don't have to be so black and white. Just some adventure with a little bit of logic. I wrote the poem below while quite hungover and with little sleep. Another decision that I had to jump out of my daily norm to do. And it is one of my favorites that I have ever written :)
I have a crazy lover. Eyes wide and black. With genuine curiosity and untainted hunger. Though so experienced with the thorns of red roses. Far removed from anger or hostility. Like a mad man with soft hands. With actions that put me in my place. That force me to change the selfish record that I play. The one that keeps causing the beautiful melody to skip.
The one that can't quite find the bridge back to a major key.
But I am woken up. Forced to get up. When I'm so tempted to get back down. And I start playing a new tune. Because somehow I am inspired. Though it's hard to understand how.