The recent blogs I’ve written have shown the interesting place I find myself residing.  There was a time when my thoughts were posted on a regular basis.  Yet recently I haven’t found the inspiration to write, neglecting to seek it in it’s hiding place.  Normally a thought would overtake my mind in class, a conversation with a friend would linger throughout the day.  Ironically enough, inspiration was found at a hole in the way coffee shop.  Looking around a rather odd, yet creative artwork flood the colorful walls.  People from every walk of life converse at place covered with colors.  The mentality of the place varies as its flow of music.

Where does inspiration reside?  Why do certain places, people, experiences bring forth the desire to create?  Months have passed since my creativity hijacked my thoughts.  The pressures of school, classes, church, and anything else has distracted myself.  A friend of mine defines his creativity as a core piece of who he is.  When the burden’s of life dampen these desires of his being, he feels incomplete.  Do I feel incomplete?  Am I suppressing a part of me which reigned for a year of my life?

For a year I worked at a camera store while pursuing freelance photography.  The range of my photography was immense.  I had the opportunity to capture weddings, missionaries in action, the effects of wars in Africa, the beauty across America, the political euphoria of an Obama rally, non-profits seeking to make a difference.  God allowed me to use the talent he bestowed upon me to show what was truly taking place in the world.  I can recall photographs capturing images I wish I could forget.  I have captured atrocities committed by he human race the world has yet to see.  The ignorance of people forcing the poor into unimaginable places.  The other side of the spectrum, I have seen the vision of a person turn the heads of thousands for the greater good.  God blessed me in capturing the work of missionaries loving on the unloved, feeding the famished, preaching to the lost and celebrating the miracle of a new life in Jesus.  I have traveled the globe, Africa, Latin America and our beautiful country capturing the beauty of our Lord in places I never imaged.

Looking at how this has evolved, I can see the passion pent up inside of my heart, longing to express itself once again.  What if the stress, the anxiety, the longing I have felt was the creativity which once reigned, yearning to breathe once again.  Ironically enough I live in one of the most beautiful places in the country, yet have shelved my desire to hike the mountains in search of God’s beauty for knowledge hidden in books.  There are many things once can never expereicne and live through books, but only through being.  This appears to me a plea from a part of my heart recently hidden, ignored and pushed away.  The sun is setting, the mountains are covered with fresh sheet of snow.  There is no time like the present.  Please excuse this abrupt ending, I found something which was once lost.