lightning, inspiration and my draft year

I’ve heard it said that inspiration is for amateurs. Apparently, professionals are able to continually churn out artist brilliance because of self discipline and daily creative diligence. That is to say, they consistently apply themselves to their craft whether or not they feel the music of the muse. Interestingly enough, these self-same people tend to cook up more and better crap then those who simply wait for inspiration to strike. Meterologists say to avoid an incident with lightning it is best to stay as low as you can. Not so for the coursing shock of inspiration. The geniuses taunt the storm. They dance in open fields wearing naught but tinfoil, feet firmly planted in frying pans, golf clubs waving at the sky. And not those new fangled fiber glass jobs, but old school nine-irons of the finest stainless steel. Lightning rods they are. You act like that and you’re going to get hit.

Stuff happens around these people. Pages become stories and stories hatch into magazines. Canvases turn into paintings and paintings pile up into galleries. Clay is shaped into bowls, plates, and odd looking vases. Notes collect into songs and then albums. Wood finds its way to furniture. Seeds are coaxed to gardens bursting into life. Beloved hobbies become bread and butter. Cue the arena anthem of your choice right about now… And let it play…

And a stage tech trips on a cord and the whole thing comes to an unfortunate halt complete with feedback and last off chord ringing.

By all accounts I am an amateur. The blank page frightens me so. In the name of inspiration, procrastination is an easy option. Funny thing, when the last hour approaches amazing things come out of me. Pressure forces me to action and action brings out ideas, insight, creativity. Birddog cooks up his fair share of good crap when he actually gets down to business. Then the buzzer goes, time is up and things are left undeveloped.Here’s what I got…

Well, I plan to go pro in diligence. It is my draft year. I will wait on lady luck no longer. Get behind me internet. Email you are no friend of mine. To hell with Facebook. I will climb the mast, face the driving rain and put myself directly in harm’s way. I will yell. I will curse. I will do what needs doing. I will live atop shrimp boats, on dance floors, quiet chapels and anywhere else life lives. Time is to be spent with good books and better conversation. Pen and notebook factor in. Desk chair and laptop too. White boards, telephones and to do lists all have their place. Whatever means necessary.

I want to create. I want to inspire and be inspired. I want to live. Someone’s gotta make this happen. My name is called. I’ll don the jersey. Welcome to the team son. Lightning will strike twice.

Kick the tires and light the fires.