Your mind is your best inspiration

We’re looking for inspiration all over the place. Some look for it all over the world  some pay a lot of money to be inspired by all sorts of life coaches conducting writing workshops, when, in fact, your mind can be your greatest source of inspiration. No need to pay who knows how much for writing workshops or some other way to be inspired.

I’ve never had a problem with inspiration. I’ve also read up on inspiration and intuition in Judaism, as well as what forms the communication between this world and the next, the spiritual, can take. Too much to mention in one blog post.

So yeah, people complain about the writer’s block. They have no idea what to do or what to write about. My mind is an endless source of inspiration. Sometimes, my mind amazes me, sometimes it amuses me, and sometimes it scares me.

The embodiment of these three states is my recent vivid dream. More like a lucid dream, really. You see, I don’t need drugs or alcohol to be inspired. I rarely drink and I never take drugs and yet my mind is one heck of a muse.

Lucid dream is the kind of dream when you know you’re deaming. Cool stuff. I’d never had a lucid dream before. I was in this dimly-lit hallway. Silence all around. There was a pair of metal doors to my right. I was dreaming in Polish but for some strange reason the sign on the door was in English. ”Ukrainian room,” it said.  My innate curiosity made me open the door. I couldn’t resist. I had to explore. I didn’t have any form, I was more like a spirit spy who used his willpower to open the door.

I was both amazed and amused when I saw a former Russian propagandist on the ground. I knew exactly who she was. The Z-zealot was wearing stuff like she’s about to dance Swan Lake. She was holding a violin and much to her chagrin and fury, she was forced to play Ukrainian songs. There was no demon standing over her but I knew she had no say in the matter, no matter how much she resisted in her fanatical Z-mind.

I didn’t know the names of the songs,  but I sure knew they were Ukrainan. It’s just what happens in a dream, you know things. I heard snickering in the background and just knew it was coming from the indirect victims of her vile, genocidal, rhetoric. I knew her victims were in heaven and they had front row seats to watching the former Russian propagandist play Ukrainian songs. It felt so exhilarating, that when I woke up, I was disappointed and a bit angry, like having to walk out of a movie theater, because it felt like I’d gotten a glimpse of eternity. And I loved it.

I believe it was Voltaire who said: ”I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: Oh Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it.” Well, that vivid dream, or a glimpse of some damned soul’s eternity, was certainly just that.

We can only hope the dead Hamas ”fighters” are faced with similar fates, i.e. torture tailored to their backgrounds and misdeeds, in their afterlives.

Don’t put breaks on your mind, let it flow, and it’ll take you to places you’ve never seen before. For me, it’s another chapter in the making as I polish my novel.

Thank you, God, for inspiring me. And for having such a cosmic sense of humor.