It’s strange how often the viewing of a movie or reading of a book can change a person’s priorities.  It seems that every major life change I’ve had has been at least somewhat influenced by a book or movie.  I found the metaphysical after watching a very ridiculous teen movie some 10 years ago.  I set my lifelong values after reading The Alchemist about a year after that, and now I’m going back to writing after watching “The Peaceful Warrior.”

I’ve always wondered when I would go back to writing, and I didn’t ever imagine it would be at a time like now.  I’m busier than I ever have been before, and yet I feel compelled to spend what little time I’m not working 14 hours a day or playing with my four kiddos or snuggling up with my wife to watch a movie, sitting down at a computer to research some obscure topic to write about or sitting outside pondering different questions I have while I drink my morning coffee.

It seems as though it’s the only driving point I really have these days.  I go to work and do as much as I can to move up the corporate ladder, but at the end of the day I regularly think to myself that there’s this huge hole in my life that shouldn’t be there.  So I started writing again.  Who knows how intellectual and worthwhile these ramblings may be this time around, but they’ll be here.

So today’s rambling is on the topic that has bothered me for some time now.  I have to ask myself, what is the point of writing this blog?  I don’t make any money from it.  I haven’t really made any real impact on the world.  I certainly haven’t become more in tune with the world because of it.  I finally came to the conclusion that I simply need an outlet for the millions of thoughts flowing through my mind daily.  I haven’t been able to meditate for a long time, and this may be the reasoning.

Most of the time I sit down with some sort of an idea for a topic, but sometimes I don’t even do that.  I just start to write, and whatever comes out is what I post.  I’m sure you’ve noticed that over the years the posts have become more and more random and far less structured, and that’s because the topics aren’t topics that I’ve thought through fully.  By the end of the post, the majority of the thought process has worked its way through me and there is some sort of conclusion on the thought, and so I can finally put that thought away.  Maybe that’s why so many therapists insist that their patients keep a journal.

In essence the process of writing taps into the subconscious where we have no true control over what flows through, and that’s how most “inspired” works come about.  I’m not saying that anything I’ve ever written could be called inspired, but in my mind there’s not really anything that isn’t inspired to some degree other than a synopsis of something else.  Everything has their truly original thoughts, and everything comes from that hidden ocean of inspiration called the subconscious.