Inspiration

Alone in a strange place, sitting at an old dining room table, in a cool room with little light, I organize new thoughts and write. It’s not that I have much to say, today, more than any other, but ideas like magma push through my crust of consciousness exploding onto the page as words and phrases. The quiet room, an elixir, motivator and guide, allows freedom of expression and contact with deep places I reach only when dreaming. Strong ideas and uncontrollable inspiration builds with every word, until the climax forces a halt to newness, giving transcription time to keep pace. When family returns and silence is put away, the notebook is closed, and I take my place joining the conversation, as if nothing happened.