Nobody really knows where inspiration comes from or how it is lost. I am a counselor at a high school and help many aspiring artists and writers who are at difficult times in their lives. Many have family troubles, mounting pressure to succeed, and other difficulties that we all face at that age. There were so many young artists who had come to me with ideas about how they could again become inspired and I usually gave them the same answers. I've found that a lack of inspiration is a result of stress, and in order for the mind to think clearly, the stress must be alleviated.

I told them to exercise, talk to their loved ones, resolve any underlying conflicts, and just put themselves in a better mood. There is really nothing else that I could tell them, being an artist myself, I found that inspiration didn't just come and go, it had to do with how I was feeling. When I felt good, my artistic ability soared, when I felt bad, it dropped. I was wondering why there were so many people who just couldn't get motivated enough to create.

As fate would have it, a few weeks after this series of students coming to me for help, my wife fell ill with cancer. One may expect that this devastating news came as a shock to me, and absolutely crippled my ability to do anything. Needless to say my inspiration and even the will to get out of bed was all but gone. Despite my terrible situation, I brawled my way through work and continued to do my best to give the kids my best advice.

I told nobody about my situation, but I'm sure people could tell there was something wrong. I usually an upbeat individual, the first to yuk it up with strangers and give positive advice, but with the future of the love of my life hanging in the balance, I simply couldn't think of anything but that. Everyone could tell something was wrong, but nobody dared say anything; I was not one to lay my problems on others.

It wasn't until about a week after I'd be as down as ever that one of my student changed my outlook. He had been seeing me quite frequently and had real problems back home. I found myself thinking that there was nothing more I could do to help him, but still I tried. I was expecting the same chat we'd always have about how he no longer felt the desire to create and I'd give him all the advice I could with little result. He immediately knew something was wrong and asked me about it. Thinking that there was no way that a 15 year old would understand I said that it was nothing and that he shouldn't worry.

His face got cross and it seemed as though he felt as though I should share my plight, but he said nothing and simply contemplated his response for a few minutes. He then told me to reflect on how many times I'd helped people out of difficult situations. I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I'd helped hundreds of students with similar problems that had less coping skills, but there were some that I simply couldn't help. This changed my entire outlook.

Life is pain. Everyone goes through it, and it's all about what you make of it. Who would have thought that a 15 year old high school student could have helped me realize that sometimes I need to let go and enjoy the time spent with others. So often we feel alone, but there is always someone who cares.

I guess it's foolish to think you can control everything, but hang in there long enough and do what you have to do to get by and the world will turn. My wife pulled through and I'll never forget the feeling of having hope restored to my life. I've been a ball of inspiration since.