When I sit down at my computer in the morning, I often do not know what I am going to write.  I sit for a few long moments, breathing deeply, looking out the window, letting my mind wander.  Eventually, something outside catches my eye or my mind follows a path to something that I find interesting, poignant, or amusing, and I begin to write.  This morning I sat longer than usual.  

The natural landscape outside of my window changes ever so slightly everyday.  The same familiar pattern of the sun inches across the hill in front of me.  I hear the ticking of the clock and I see the same inspiring pictures of friends, family, clients, etc.  Today, I noticed that the moment of inspiration for something to write about did not hit me right away.  I enjoyed the warmth of my coffee and the smell of the jasmine.  I saw the hummingbird zoom in and out of my periphery.  Then, as my mind and my body grew calmer, a tug of inspiration finally came to me.  I wondered about my personal process of getting words out of my head and onto the page and I began to write what you read here.  It may not seem so revelatory or mysterious in the reading, but to me, as simple as it may be, I am more fully understanding the process of creation.  For me, the joy is not so much about the medium (words, music, movement, body language, brush strokes, etc.) as it is about the act of creating itself.  Every morning I have an opportunity to let words flow from my mind through my fingers onto a keyboard and, through the magic of technology, into the blogosphere for anyone interested enough to read.  That's what I found inspiring this morning.  All too often, there is a need for my creative endeavors to have life beyond the moment of initial creation.  With this daily writing, this blog, that need is absent.  There is only the simple joy of showing up every morning (Monday through Friday) and putting moments of feeling and thought into words.  Every morning there is a discipline of clearing my mind and allowing a space so that some form of inspiration can flow through me.  The content is secondary to the act itself.  And that, I find inspiring.