Judging by the year and a half gap between this post and the last, you may assume these last 17 months have been void of inspiration for me. True and not.
The pages of my journal have been uncharacteristically blank, but my heart is still cluttered with passion and dreams. It's been a rough time, but I still remember my dreams of a few years ago. I still remember my desires to connect with others. To share life with people and discuss God (and other less daunting things) over coffee.
My passion is still here, but it's been playing hard to get. I feel numbed by disappointment, by unemployment, by loneliness.
I stuck a sticker on my computer this fall that reads, "travel is my joy". Anyone who knows me, knows this is fully true. Seeing the world inspires me. But that little phrase alone doesn't cover it. For me, coffee is my joy, delicious food is my joy, learning about new cultures, having a good conversation, hearing a good song,...joy, joy, joy. I am a person enthused by much.
And for me, one of the most joy-inducing moments comes in realizing that even when it's been 17 months since I've written a word beyond facebook statuses, cover letters and resumes, I've still got it in me. I am still inspired by the things that inspired me before. I still love God. I still care about justice and connecting with people in genuine relationships. My heart still has the capacity to feel the thrill of inspiration. I've made it a circumstantial thing. I've lacked inspiration because I've lacked joy. I've lacked joy because I've refused to see beyond the numbness of now. But I can do this, I can push through. I can feel inspired and find joy even in spite of now. And that brings me joy.
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