27 October 2008

Where does motivation come from? I wonder. Is there some sort of reservoir of motivation, and our only responsibility is to tap into it . . . and then. Poof. It is there? I consider how if someone wants me to do something, tells me to do something, I look forward to doing it and being able to show them what I did, for them. Because I trusted them and thought that they wanted me to do it for them. And they asked me because they knew I would like it or it would be good for me.

And when there is no one there, it becomes gradually and persistently convincing that it doesn’t matter. And it loses color, and the dullness is almost pervasive and the sense of stagnancy becomes the only thought. The only existence is complacent.

If there is something beautiful and striking, if I find truth, I want to share it. I want to express it first, express it in a way that is true to its form. I want to feel its honesty. And then I want to tell you about it. And I want you to understand that it is beautiful to me, and then believe that it is beautiful too, even if it’s not beautiful to you individually. Or at least, to believe that I’m beautiful. Because this is love, it’s this understanding that comes through an angelic tongue, and is communicated through words, but goes beyond the power of the words themselves.