Reading

Words that result from the spillage of another thinker's brain inspire me. They fuel my own creative spirit, but in a recharging kind of way. Often I derive a sense of motivation. But in a lot of ways reading serves as a serum, filling the cracks of my tired mind. Life-giving in a sort of vicarious notion, I am granted the ability to fly, contrive and achieve via the tiresome scribble of some antiquated writers' pen. It's the weight at the other end of the scale, and an equal contributor to my own creative offspring. Together with originality, the inspiration gleaned from those who have gone before me pushes me off the plank of wavering initiative and plunges me (a naturally passive entity) off the plank into a sea that is vaster that my arm's reach. May I be guided only by Total Truth as I navigate the indeterminable undulations of the philosophizing thing, I am.