A Failure of Inspiration

I am haunted by the specter of failing inspiration. There are days when I feel I have nothing to write, nothing to communicate to my readers. And my spirits suffer. I need to impart something of myself to the outside world, and when I am unable to I succumb to depression. Right now I am overcome by an infinite weariness and desire to sleep, and I turn away to find a place where I can lie down and sleep.

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Since I wrote the foregoing, I have pondered over my blog again and again and tried to find a way out of my difficulty. I have not found a solution. I am still confronted by chaos. But I have vowed not to give in, and in the moment of making this vow a happy memory passed through my mind like a ray of sunshine. It was similar, it seemed to me, quite similar to how I felt when I commenced my expedition, my journey through my mind, as memorialized in my blog; then I also undertook something apparently impossible, then also I apparently traveled in the dark, not knowing my direction and not having the slightest prospects. Yet I had within me something stronger than reality or probability, and that was faith in the meaning and necessity of writing a blog. I shuddered at the recollection of this sentiment, and at the moment of this blissful shudder, everything became clear, everything seemed possible again.

Whatever happens, I have decided to exercise my will. Even if I have to re-commence my difficult blog posts ten times, a hundred times, and always arrive at the same cul-de-sac, just the same I will begin again a hundred times. If I cannot assemble the pictures into a significant whole again, I will present each single fragment as faithfully as possible. And as far as it is now still possible, I will be mindful of the first principle of my work, never to rely on and let myself be disconcerted by reason, always to know that faith is stronger than so-called reality.