blissful entropy...

Isn’t it amazing when we seem to embrace everything at the same time? Where life is going at the speed of light, we are juggling more than humanly possible, yet know that regardless of our limits we give everything our all? I have hit that moment where the...

blissful entropy: my moments, days or weeks of happy, inspired chaos goes uninterrupted,

...inspired by something, someone, a picture, a glance, random words…

You know the feeling?

It is where we seem to do the unimaginable, the unconquerable, mastering many feats at one time due to some inspiration.

What is inspiration? Not so much what is was in the concrete sense, but its essence and its role in our blissful entropy?

I look at it this way: that inspiration is like a pilot—whether is be a certain someone, off chance phone call, the sunlight upon the face, the winds of autumn—that comes upon us from out of nowhere and takes us for the flight of our life. Random, actually, in how the pilot meets us, yet exact in time for a reason. So we fly, high, and enter that zone where we are above human strength and take on everything we embrace. Blissful entropy.

And when things become *normalized* in the sense that we get back to our routine, we look over our shoulder and see that the pilot has left us, back on the ground, in the reality that yes, again we are human. It is a rather lonely feeling, considering the excitement that blissful entropy makes us feel… indestructible, impermeable. Almost like a let down when the pilot steps away, bordering on an empty pain that we cannot put our finger upon… come back, we plead.

And then I think, well, how do we regain that inspiration, how do we get the pilot to come back and take us away above who we can be? Go outside in the night and look at the sky… the pilot is there, somewhere, it has not left… can you hear that? Circling above the skies? Your pilot is there… trust the process.

In order for us to appreciate what we bring to this world, our blissful entropy needs to be balanced by the silence of normalcy. Otherwise, how can we appreciate our pilot? And once we resolve our appreciation and are gratuitous for the pilot, we embrace that silence, yet you better hold tight.

As all things are cyclical, the pilot will return—maybe as before in that same person, off chance call, sunlight in your face or even the autumn winds—or as a different calling, beckoning you to grow again and contribute in your next phase of blissful entropy.

Either way, how fortunate we are for the flight!

(my note— I promise to have a lighthearted entry next! My pilot came today and I am inspired…)

question: what, or who, has been your pilot as of late?