Lately I’ve had the pleasure of having many thought-provoking conversations with my wonderfully fascinating friends, more so than I can remember in years past. Perhaps it’s the flavor of friendships I’ve been attracting of late (a sprinkle of sweetness here, a dash of spice there, spoonfuls of wit and wisdom to taste); on the other hand, it could just be the worldliness that naturally comes with age, encouraging you to look at things through the eyes of experience. This latest was about the connective thread between “inspiration” and “motivation”. My friend made a wonderful analogy about inspiration being akin to a seed, and motivation being the water that allows it to thrive. But while I’m a voracious seed-collector – finding ideas and desires in a wonderfully diverse array of sources – sometimes the soil of my mind can be as parched as the Sonoran.
For me, motivation is like the rainstorm that sneaks in as the summer sun is setting. You might have some stirrings – changes in barometric pressure, faraway rumblings of thunder – to let you know that it’s on its way. But there’s nothing that can be done to provoke it or to stem its approach. It comes, and you either close all your windows and ignore its presence, or do as I do: revel in it – run around in it, even – letting it soak its presence into your skin, knowing that you’re wise to take advantage, as a drought may be right around the corner. Other people far more pro-active though. They build complex irrigation systems to ensure that their inspiration is always nourished. Or they look for hidden well-springs and keep buckets of motivation coming in frequent supply, sometimes happily and sometimes with trudging weariness borne out of responsibility or obligation. I appreciate the “motivation to stay motivated”, but for me that feels more like work than fulfillment. It’s like the paradox of the “pursuit of happiness”, wherein some people get all caught up in the pursuit, but rarely experience the happiness. How about instead of chasing it so fervently, you just allow it to come naturally? I’m reminded of those long, destination-less drives I enjoy taking so much that few seem to understand. I just let the road take me where it will, fueled by great music and stimulating thoughts. Is that not its own worthwhile pursuit?
Still, motivation can take its sweet time making an appearance when you’re “waiting for rain” – that I’ll readily admit. And I’m not out there banging my drums and doing my rain dance, either. Indeed, I’m what you might call a procrastinator. I thought of this as a character flaw for a long time until I happened to read something that was really meaningful to me, and changed my thoughts about what it means when you’re just not in the mood to pursue or complete a task.
Insightful, right? It certainly is food for thought (or water for a seedling). I know from my own experience that when I take inspired action, the results are always much more fulfilling. Take redesigning Scarlettopia; that was just a seed in my mind that suddenly blossomed one day, and I worked on it clear through the night until the project was completed. This may not be practical for some, but it suits my personality. Like the time back in 2001 when my friend Amanda had the midnight inspiration that we should paint a mural on a wall in my apartment. Thirty minutes later we were wandering around Wal-Mart, practically in our pajamas, picking up art supplies. We finished our masterpiece as the sun came up – a moody, abstract amalgam of color that equally dazzled and confounded. No one ever understood that wall, but no one ever needed to.
And the same could be said for motivation. Who knows where it comes from and what makes it stay? It’s one of those great mysteries of life that, more and more, I’m becoming content with not fully understanding. I think the key is to just to nurture your passions, follow your desires, and watch for the stirrings of an inspired and motivated mind. Whether it’s a gentle brainstorm or a hurricane of activity, take advantage of those moments and see where they lead you. Only then will you know how your garden grows …
