Who’s Speaking through Me?

Most creative people have experienced the sensation that they were being used as a tool by something outside themselves. So many times I’ve heard the exclamation, “Whoa, where did that come from?” Whether it’s a piece of writing, music or visual art, some of the effort seems to comes from another place.

As a writer I’ve experienced the sensation countless times. In prose, it can come in the form of seeing insights on the paper that I didn’t know I had. In poetry, whole portions, sometimes the entire poem will show up seemingly out of nowhere. The phenomenon is often called inspiration.

I went through a year-long period where I tried to conjure that flow daily. I would lie in bed with a pencil and a pad of paper and try writing with no idea what might show up. Sometimes something showed up, sometimes nothing showed up, but the meditative process was very satisfying.

As I moved forward in spirituality, I began to gain a different understanding of the phenomenon that is so common in creativity. Maybe the work wasn’t coming from somewhere else. Maybe it was coming from the true self, the connected self. Maybe the “other” was the self holding the pencil in hopes of something showing up.

The uninspired thinker – the me, the ego – is the really the strange part of the equation, not the inspiration. The inspiration is what’s natural, what’s true, what’s real, and what lasts. The thinking me, the ego me, will go away at some point, leaving only the connected self, the inspired self that knows exactly what needs to be said and exactly how to say it.

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3 thoughts on “Who’s Speaking through Me?

  1. My friend asked me these questions:

    He asked. “Have you ever really given thought to the essential nature of man? Forget what you have read, what you have been told. Have you given any independent thought to this question? I repeat ‘independent’ — quiet, thorough and deep thought, as if you were the only sentient being on the earth and there was no one to guide you, or misguide you! What are the essentials to that which you consider as ‘you’?”
    He made a questioning gesture with his right hand and after a moment continued. “Obviously the body, but this body that is now in its prime, healthy and strong, was once only a little drop or speck of chemical matter when conception took place in your mother’s womb. Think, did ‘you’ do anything to be conceived? Did ‘you’ want to be conceived? Were ‘you’ consulted? Further, and this is important, what is it that was ‘latent’ in that like speck of matter which was conceived, that caused it to grow into a fully developed baby with blood, flesh, marrow, bones, first in your mother’s womb and thereafter in this world until it is now sifting before me discussing philosophy? The body has, during its growth, assumed various images that you have considered to be ‘you’ at different times, but no single image has remained with you constantly. And yet, there is something which has indeed remained without any change. Is that not your sense of being alive and present, the consciousness which gives sentience and energy to the psychosomatic apparatus known as (body- mind – intellect) simply as the body’? This consciousness is given various names. being-ness, I-am-ness, self, Atma, etc. and also other names like Maya, God, Love etc. The world exists for you only if this consciousness is there. If you are not conscious, as in deep sleep, can the world exist for you?
    I sat there dumb founded. I had never before have asked these questions.

  2. Waking up, inspiration poured through in ever larger amounts until…..the day came…..when I found this valve, turned it open and then left it there. I think that living in a state of constant inspiration is what people would consider an optimal state. I love it. I do. I think its that thread of experience that connects us into that place….that state….that we are….home. Great writing! Really enjoying it!

  3. I like this particular writing a lot, because I can relate. First, I truly believe all of my art has come from somewhere else. My art is not special in any way, other than it’s mine. But, whether it was a poem, shorty story, or drawing I really believe it came from somewhere outside of myself. Also, for me, the creative work is usually exhausting. I wonder if it’s the expenditure of spiritual energy that makes it so tiring. Second, over the last several years I also contemplated the essential essence of man. However, I approached the question by mentally placing myself in a small clearing of a gentle wood with a small lake not far off. I asked myself, if I had sat in the clearing and was now an adult without any knowledge of other people or influenced by other people, untainted by life in any way, a total clean slate…would I eventually ask myself if there was more than the grass, the trees, the leaves, the sky, the sun, the stars, the moon, the clouds, the rain, the breeze, the animals, the insects and the water; would I ever ask myself if there was a Supreme Being? After some time, I finally concluded, Yes. So, I do feel that any person, sitting in a wood, all alone and surrounded by creation would scratch his/her head and ask the question… how did it all come about?

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