Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The ornery child I
The irony of seeking and suckling inspiration is that it rarely comes when sought. It's like an ornery child—refusing to come when you call it, and then appearing defiantly when you're not prepared. It catches you with your pants down as you ponder the meaning of toilet seat covers, or takes you unawares as you're driving home in rush-hour traffic, ruminating about the absurdity of human existence. It never cooperates or plays fair. It always finds you without pen or paper handy and just one stroke shy of genius, thus leaving you in howling misery, bemoaning the loss of what might have been brilliance. So, lay back, relax and let inspiration come to you. As they say, good things come to those who wait. Do not push or prod it, less it become irate and run away all together, but patiently wait for it to grow and mature, like the ornery child who just wants to come when they damn well feel like it, and not a moment sooner.