Inspiration

My eyes meandered across Stratford’s piazza. The cortado rolling over my tongue with the same satisfaction as a cool glass of water.

Winter has barely thrown its last tantrum, but spring has won and the sun is beginning to warm the stone. Previews of the Festival’s theatre season have begun. Welcome visitors saunter the streets, looking for treasured spots, hidden gems, and food for the soul.

What a delight this place is. I must not allow myself to become casual with this place I call home.

I also walk these streets looking for gems. What’s down there? What’s behind that building? I came this way, let’s go that way.

I don’t think I realized it until right now, but I get it from my dad—his innate sense of curiosity and adventure. My family would often say that he could see an exception clause at the bottom of all Private Property signs. I can hear his internal dialogue now: “Yes, I know, but just one wee look.” and off we would go down the driveway of some Scottish country estate where I hoped to God we wouldn’t “get in trouble”.

Fond memories. It’s heartwarming to visit them as a man and have another layer of understanding unfold.

Sometimes inspiration sneaks up on me, but it usually finds me taking just one wee look. It’s how I cultivate creative flow. I feel very much alive in that place that touches possibility and the present. In fact, the present sort of slips away and an attachment can form to an idea that is almost visceral. And with it comes a drive.

You know, you get kicked out of school for this sort of thing! Not a bad idea for some.

I close my book, tuck it into my bag and set off on my bike.