Inspired by the Ridiculous

This time of year, there are lots and lots of people doing Nanowrimo, and one of the most common elements that people see in the discussion forums, in entries to the Nanowrimo LiveJournal group, in person at the writing events, is "I don't know what to write." Frankly, I'm always astounded by that assertion. I'm shocked that someone could exist on earth and have nothing to say.

I've always had the opposite problem. I have far more to write than I will ever be able to commit to paper. I've thought recently about why that is. How is it that I end up with an incredible surfeit of content and not enough time to write it? What I've realized is that it's my own failings and weaknesses that allow me a rich inner life.

I'm nearsighted and slightly deaf. The women of my family have all gone deaf at an early age. Here's a typical interaction with my grandmother:
Me: Grandma! I won a turkey platter at bingo!
Grandma: A turkey bladder? What on earth do you need that for?
Me: The gizzard and liver were already taken.

Going through life in a half-deaf myopic haze means that everything has a slightly magical tinge to it. People are much more attractive when you can't actually make out their wrinkles and pimples. And they're much more entertaining when just any old thing is liable to fly out of their mouths at any moment. (Luckily for me, my younger daughter, who speaks loudly and distinctly enough for me to hear at all times, is given to spewing random stuff all the time.)

I went through an entire six months driving by a large house surrounded by orchard and garden plots and reading the hand-lettered sign out front that read "Mary Ferguson Offered." I spun out entire stories about who Mary Ferguson was, and what she might have offered to whom that would move the offeree to want to let the world know. Was it a good thing? Or was this more like Hester Prynne's scarlet letter? And then someone who had never even seen the sign at all burst my bubble by telling me that it said "Massey Ferguson Offered," meaning that they were selling their tractor. And then, a few months later, the entire property went up for sale and my imagined stories became more sad and less fun and magical.

People are all in a rush to make sense of things. To prove how smart they are and how well they've figured it all out. It makes me sad because striving to prove your rationality every second of every day takes away so much of life's potential joy, and nearly all of life's moments of inspiration.

Throw away your hearing aids! Stomp on your glasses! Daydream in meetings and take all idioms literally (because they're quite silly)! Once you open yourself up to it, the world contains more inspiration than can ever be used up by any number of people.