Inspiration. It’s a spark in the darkness, a fleeting whisper that says *maybe*.

I’m not sure if it’s truly inspiration I feel. The word seems too grand, too certain for this nagging sensation that tugs at the edges of my consciousness. But what else could it be?

They come without warning. A new post from @ageingdisgracefully_ catches my eye. It’s a reel of an older woman doing a headstand on the beach, her silver hair gleaming in the sun. Her caption simply states, “Age is just a number.” I smile, admiring her spirit. Here’s a woman who refuses to be defined by society’s expectations, who keeps moving, growing, challenging herself. She’s not just aging; she’s thriving.

I pause, letting the image and its implications sink in. It’s not about the acrobatics or the beach body. It’s about the spirit, the defiance, the joy radiating from every pixel. 

These sights don’t urge me to create. Instead, they invite me to stop. To breathe. To sink into the moment.

In the quiet hours, these reflections don’t demand to be shaped into stories or art. They simply… are. And in their presence, I find peace.

But is it truly inspiration? 

Perhaps. 

Or maybe it’s just the human condition – always searching, always questioning, always hoping to find something more in the everyday.

Whatever it is, it’s mine. This persistent, maddening, beautiful sensation that colors my world. It pushes me forward, urges me to look deeper, to wonder.

There’s more here. Keep looking. Keep asking why.

So I do — one uncertain handstand at a time.