On Inspiration

I'm starting to feel the pull of so many directions again. Have I taken on too much? And, possibly more importantly, why have I taken on so much? On this quest to find something, was it necessary to search all avenues at once? Or do we keep ourselves perpetually busy in order to avoid the void? How very unzen.
Always wanting to throw myself into a project whole heartedly, fully immersed, and always somewhat resentful to the daily demands and obligations that might take me away from whatever inspiration I might be following.
Some inspirations need to grow. Quietly, at the back of your mind, in the depths of your unconscious, they blossom and grow, despite being deprived of light. They don't emerge until fully formed, needing only light to be shined on them, for you to pick them up and examine them, turning them around slowly but excited. Seeing them from all angles you declare with satisfaction "Here it is!" as if you had something to do with it.
Others are laborious, they come buried deep within a block of stone. You know they're in there, hidden, dormant, yet you have no idea how to get them out, to release them, to realise them. So, like a sculpture, you start chipping away, holding your breath and hoping not to destroy it along the way. Slowly it emerges, you sense it forming, but your still not sure, still tentative, still struggling and searching. You chip more, is it done? Is there more to chip? Perhaps a bit here? Sometimes, when all chipped away, you can stand back and see it. Perhaps its a shock, you weren't expecting that, perhaps its better, magic, though quite often it's not. You thought there was something there but maybe you were wrong, maybe you've been chipping away all this time on the wrong block.
Other times, the muses dance around the corner of your subconscious, teasing and probing. A glimpse of an idea here, if only you could grasp it. A hint of a dream there. You're sure its good but its just too far too reach. You wait, maybe it will come closer, maybe it will alight again if you sit really still, like a butterfly brushing its wings ever so softly against your cheek. Trickster that it is, it waits until your once again preoccupied elsewhere and then dances boldly past and into the far recesses and by the time you've turned your mind, gone again. Oh, it so shiny but you've forgotten and its like a dream you can't quite remember.

Then there's the trance, when your in the "zone". You move freely with energy, almost watching from above as you work. You know the idea's yours, and it's not, you're just allowed to borrow it, channel it for as long as your open to honour it. Time fades, demands fade, space fades. Or maybe space emerges, opens. It doesn't matter, you must keep going, don't stop, don't break the spell. The energy's there, your energy, the work's energy, all else falls away. Your ego can step aside and all that is required is just to show up and trust.