Thanksgiving

I want to write the masterpiece of inspiration. The piece that tells of glory, nature, and beauty or adventure, fear, and victory. I want to feel the upsurge in my heart to write that very thing that is drowning my emotional hub. 

I want to describe that sunset, that kiss, the romance. I want to give to others the story of a life well-lived, even at least to entertain my audience. 

The fault in my story is the lack of material. The age old cliche, “write what you know” is, in this case, my curse. How can I write of something I have never experienced of something I’ve never felt? My material is lacking because my experience is still a dream.

So, I write about what I want, what I’m eager for, what I imagine, but this is lackluster. My words lack the gumption of reality. The rawness of personal perspective. So I type and I wish my life was more inspired. Inspiration takes money, time and sacrifice. 

How do I capture grand stories of life and travel when I cannot afford to get to the destination? 

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Answer: I make my little life magical.

 

My mundane, average, non-climatic tale is full of stories to be told, yet undiscovered by my blind eye. What takes true talent is to write about the norm and inspire others to hold their own day-to-day in higher regard. If I can find the inspiration in my self-proclaimed boring life, can I not propel another to see the glory in the homes, streets, and workplace they see everyday?  

This is a grand hope for a momentous change in personal perspective with no outside change. Which is why I must pray to the Father of Inspiration. I pray to have eyes open and heart unguarded to the boldness of color, the emotion in a glance, and the adventure of surviving each day.

 

How to make the mundane magical is just the act of thankfulness in every moment- the awareness I am surrounded by creation, relationship, and a world beyond the physical. All the inter-workings to the perfect masterpiece. To be thankful is to see what’s right in front of you.

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