That sound you hear is me sighing, contentedly

Every once in a while, a moment occurs when the uncertainty suddenly lifts and life makes sense. Moments when that once-muddled path becomes clear and everything clicks within your brain.

Webpage after webpage I've been searching for inspiration. And I finally found it.

After hours of reading so many words that could have come from my own mouth, something inside of me has awakened. The self-doubt still lingers. But the important things is the passion is still there within me. That desire to create hasn't disappeared. I may have pushed it away for a long time, and I may have ignored it when it has tried to rear its head again and again. But now I feel I may be on the verge of finding my way back to my "old self".

I can remember times when I would dream full passages of prose, the deepest, most rhythmic words. And in that moment, in the dream, my sleeping self would say "You HAVE to remember this when you wake up and write it down!"

Those of us who dream know that so many times our dreams are full of nonsense and gibberish; completely unrelated images clumsily strung together by some vague thread of logic. But when we wake, these disjointed scenes and their meaning are gone & forgotten. But just the prospect of my dreams producing a scene, an idea, a phrase or even a word that can inspire me is the thing that propels me forward and encourages me to keep dreaming.

From this moment forward, each breath of every moment will be one of regeneration.

I remember forests, dark and deep, where sunlight was filtered down from so far above that we, down on the ground, existed in another time. When air and sky and mountain and water all flowed so seamlessly into one another. We slept under stars, lived and loved and dreamed ourselves into existence. And when we awoke, the dream had dissipated.

But we were still alive.