Setting seems as pertinent to motivation as any internal factor that comes to mind. Within the confines of a classroom I feel more inspired to write or express than in any other setting. When the mind is set free, after the academic discourse, my thoughts run wild. But just as these novel ideas appear they seem to leave me. When I come home to write them they are gone. This struggle with my fleeting intellect is so damnably crippling... I wish I could grab those thoughts, Jar them, let them age,- pickle them in a tincture of exegesis so that they take on the full flavor of my affections. I want to regurgitate them in a form more comprehensive than when they appeared; to take on the form of my soul.
I need to submerse myself in new environments so that I may find new fertile soil in which to plant the seeds of my thoughts. Though the goal is visible, the task seems unachievable, the obstacles, insurmountable. Why though, when met, in my mind, with such opposition, can't I view the challenges before me. The opposition is absent, the barricades - invisible.
Our ideas are as representative of the source, our minds, as they are the subject;in fact, more so. So what does this say of me?