Journal Entry: I was asked the question. I did not search deep for an answer; I should have. Now it haunts me. I answered that moment with some contorted love cliche, personalized to fit my needs. To hold the place in time.. Now, is later, and I am haunted. What inspires me? It’s not love. Love is relative. Love is fleeting, elusive, arbitrary. Love is temporary. Love dies.

To be connected is deeper than “love.” Permanent even in the most fleeting bonds.  “One” with the souls that are, and with those that have come and gone. I want to feel. Numb days and calloused ways are shadows lingering in the empty halls of love lost and found. I crave the kind of light that kills shadows, illumines humanity, bares depth;  a calling to feel and be felt.

inspire;

1. fill (someone) with the urge or ability to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.
2. create (a feeling, especially a positive one) in a person
3. animate someone with (such a feeling).
4. give rise to.
5. breathe in (air); inhale.

Animate; 

1. bring to life.

What animates? In the morning, (the afternoon for me), what is important enough to move one from ones’ slumber?

Connectivity. For me it’s connectivity. I thrive on the stories of others. The tangible realness that makes them me & me them. The kind of hurt & joy that gives texture to their voice. The stories told in the silence of facial expressions & gestures. I search for connectivity every day. Amongst passing faces, some-times I find. Perseverance is continuing to wake up.