so a few years ago, i discovered that moments of inspiration can be fleeting. and that relying on memory to recollect them, is like trying to re-imagine dreams. impossible. at least with dreams, some come back to visit as deja-vu..
i decided to accept the fact that a notebook is a must. i can’t quite recall how many i have gone through. how many are filled with ideas. words. other people’s stuff. flyers, i pick up at events. at people’s offices. at interesting places. etc. etc. often, i make an appointment with myself. open a notebook, write that day’s date. try to write the things that are swirling in my head. a mix of words to be picked up later. a to-do list (almost always!).
what i have noticed lately is that, as per normal, i always have a notebook in my handbag. a great feat for me – i struggle with consistency. however, my biggest bug bear now, is that i am often scared to open my notebook and follow up on words i have written down, ideas that i have sketched roughly, instead it is bulging with bits of paper.
of course this has me wondering why… i can only guess that maybe, i am somehow afraid. afraid to bring most of these ideas to life. scared of the commitment they will require in order for them to come alive. scared of how much i have to give of me in order to give birth to them.