The more I think about the word “inspired”, the more I’m fascinated with it.

I found two definitions of “inspire” online:

1. Fill (someone) with the urge or ability to do or feel something, especially to do something creative; and
2. Breathe in (air); inhale

So if I’m inspired, I’ve been filled with the urge or ability to do or feel something.

Or, quite simply, I’ve inhaled.

According to this second definition, I’m inspiring all day long, without even thinking, simply by being alive. With every inhale, I’m inspiring. With every inhale, I’ve been inspired. With every inhale, I inspire.

This reminds me of the miracle of being human. The simple miracle that we are all here, alive and breathing, walking around on this crazy earth.

It reminds me of the simplicity of life. Life is simple. You breathe in, you breathe out. That’s life, folks. That’s inspiration.

Simply by being alive, we’re filled with the urge or ability to do something. We all do things, don’t we? We do things like walk, talk, dance, have sex, look at things, touch things, eat things, smell things. All of these things are actions inspired by the simple act of inspiring. We also feel things. We feel happy. Sad. Mad. Glad. Confused. Anxious. Excited. In love. We feel simply because we inspire, and our feelings—every last one of them—are evidence of us having been inspired.

All of this perfectly matches what I thought the instant I posted my blog yesterday: I’ve got it all wrong. Being inspired has nothing to do with doing inspiring things or submersing myself in inspiration. Being inspired requires only that I open myself to the life that is already living in front of me. Being inspired requires only that I inhale; that I allow in—or even just notice—my urge and ability to do and feel something. Being inspired is nothing more than breathing in life and noticing that life is lived by inspiration.

Every single time you inhale, you’re inspired. Poof. Just like that. You don’t have to have life sorted out. You don’t have to be doing something fun, beautiful, or engaging. You don’t have to like what you’re doing. You don’t have to be positively influencing others.

All you have to do is breathe.

Isn’t that interesting?

I think we’ve collapsed “inspired” with “I feel good, and I want to do this.” We’ve collapsed “inspire” with “I’ve got my shit together and can make people feel happy and moved to tears.” We’ve collapsed “inspiring” with “I’m so cool that I make others want to do cool things too.” We’ve collapsed “inspiration” with “something that can take away this crummy feeling and replace it with a yummy feeling.”

Perhaps “inspired” and all of its parts-of-speech counterparts are none of those things. To be inspired is to have taken in breath. It is to be alive. It is to be filled with the urge to do and to feel exactly what you are doing and feeling right now. That’s inspiration.

So we don’t really have to work to be inspired.

But we can clearly cultivate inhales that fill us with particular urges and feelings. When I inhale in yoga, I’m filled with particular urges and feelings that are quite distinct from the urges and feelings I experience while inhaling and watching Donald Trump. My love-making inhales produce distinct urges and feelings than those of my dinner-eating inhales. My inhales produce distinct feelings and urges throughout my day and across moments and circumstances.

That’s so crazy.

So what do I inhale? What do I breathe in? What do I invite into my lungs and body? What do I allow to circulate through my system and how does it affect my urges and feelings?

And, does it have anything to do with anything outside of myself? Aren’t I the one inhaling? Isn’t it my breath, my lungs, and my body? What if my own inspired, inspiring, inspires are completely of my own volition? Where does that leave me?

Inspired, perhaps.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

P.S. Now I’m thinking that we can’t even inspire others. Everyone, after all, is responsible for their own inhalations.