On Inspiration

A different viewpoint

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Chicago Skyline by Elise Palmigiani

There is an undeniably uplifting quality to a TED talk or a book that sneers in the face of adversity, causing logic and reason to trip on itself as if a rug was yanked underneath it. Whether it’s about a street singer rising to unprecedented global stardom from the decrepit favelas of Rio or a weary war-veteran emerging as a stalwart for his community, these narratives are glazed with an inspirational charm.

Yet, I’ve always been uncomfortable with the idea of seeking inspiration from an externalised ‘something’ or ‘someone’.

It reminds me of an on-demand paradigm of inspiration analogically similar to using an on-demand streaming service where content is on tap whenever and wherever you want it.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are moments when specific media narratives or slice-of-life vignettes are imbued with a special quality to resuscitate fading hopes and dreams. However, we often tend to regard these momentary flashes of inspiration as products of an external source outside the domain of the inner self. The sense of “I” and the illusion of its separateness from the rest of the universe, is so pervasive in our culture that we struggle in recognising not merely that we belong to the rest of universe, but that there is no “rest” in the first place — we are the universe.

Over the years I’ve become increasingly enamoured with the idea that the grandest theatre of inspiration resides within. We aren’t vulnerable castaways that require saving - our beings are inspirational by virtue of simply existing as an infinitesimal part of the universe.

Because we were once part of an existential roulette - millions of sperm frantically vying for a single egg. The odds against us becoming a full-fledged person were, until the point of conception, astronomical. Yet, through fate, fortune or a mix of both, we’ve won the lottery to exist, rendering us part of a long lineage stretching back in time to the origins of the universe itself. Against the startling context of these stupefying odds it is you and I, who’ve prevailed, as we sit here basking in our unique ordinariness. And henceforth the journey of life begins as we grapple with what it means to have an “I” at the core of our experience, as a way of edging ever closer to some semblance of meaning around our existence.

It would thus not be a stretch to suggest that inspiration thrives in the lifeblood of our existence; it rhythmically dances through our veins with alacrity, it runs and frolics wholeheartedly. We don’t have to go looking for inspiration in the most recondite crevices of our mind nor do we need to wait for the external world to conjure a moment of ingenuity. The miracle of our creation is testimony to it.

When life appears static and dreams seem to collapse under the weight of reality, there is value in knowing that being stranded is not the same as being defeated. In fact, the painful challenges we face in times of upheaval, are rather paradoxically, also cosmic reminders of our privilege to be alive and to have lived.

You are inspiration. The rest is just noise.

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Thanks for reading. If you have a spare second or two, please share what inspiration means to you, either as part of life or as a philosophical idea. I’d love to hear your thoughts!