Inspired

I am not inspired. Law school, despite its intellectual rigor, does not inspire me. Perhaps it's true that inspiration is not the point, but somewhere along the way I lost my passion. Passion that pushed me to build a house, quite literally, out of nothing. Passion that moved me to learn for the pleasure of learning, and nothing more.

I've been thinking about passion lately because I discovered some old friends who have themselves embarked on pilgrimages of passion. Thanks to facebook and Myspace, I now count a soul singer, a folk singer, a hip-hop artist, a jazz violinist, a classical violinist, and a children's choir director among my childhood friends. Their works are earnest and sophisticated; their talent is pure. We all were musicians when we were kids - but somehow I let my ache for beauty become an ache for... nothing.

Somewhere along the line I folded. To my credit, my surrender was not completely because of creature comforts - I just wasn't that good a violinist. My bleakness, then, must be a result of envy, too. I envy these artists and their talents, I envy their courage and creativity.

This issue is of particular relevance because my better half also has found that law school has not inspired him. He's had success in law school, but the exercise has grown hollow. He is lucky enough to have something that does inspire him, however, and I delight in his delight.