Where Inspiration comes from.  by antiGUY

I know some will be disappointed that this month will once again stray from the usual “What the Hell” bashing format. There are a few new targets that need a good thrashing but with the holidays coming up I wanted to do something far different from anything I have done before here at antiMUSIC. 

I was all ready to have a go at Kelly Osbourne this month and her atrocious debut album but then a couple days ago I was writing an email to a friend of mine who lost his father earlier this year and I knew exactly what I needed to write about this month. 

The holidays are a hard time of the year for a lot of people. Especially for people who lost someone close to them during the previous year. I knew my friend was going to have a tough holiday season and I thought I might offer him a little comfort by relaying a story to him of something that happened to me.  Then as I was writing out the story I realized that we might have some readers that could take something away from the story as well. 

You may wonder “what the hell” this has to do with music? Very little or a lot depending on how you connect with music. Either way, I ask you to indulge me this month as I relate this story. The story may come off a little corny and totally out of character for me, but that’s ok. I felt inspired to share the story, so if you don’t get anything out of it, I’m sorry. You should come back next month for a regular “What the hell” article. 

In February of 2001 my grandfather passed away. Since he lived 2 thousand miles away, we didn’t have the opportunity to see each other that often. When I was younger he came out to California to visit a couple of times. One of those visits was for about three months when I was seven years old. During that time we really got to know each other and developed a strong bond. 

Each night he would tuck me into to bed and tell me these fantastic stories. He was quite the storyteller and his stories always had a moral to them, like all good children’s stories should. My favorite story was about a little boy who stole a pack of bubblegum and when he put the gum in his mouth and blew a bubble, he taken away by the wind as punishment for stealing. 

The night after my grandfather passed away, I had a dream. It was one of those dreams where it seems so real and you’re in that space where you are not quite asleep and not quite awake.  In the dream my grandfather came into my bedroom to talk to me and I was seven years old again. I asked him to tell the bubblegum story and when he got to the point where the boy was taken away by the wind I asked him, "Did the boy die?". And my Grandpa answered, "No, he flew away to the place where bad boys who steal go!" 

Then I asked him, "what happens when you die?" and he looked up scratched his goatee and then replied, "When you die you go to heaven". Being the inquisitive seven year old, that wasn’t answer enough so I asked him, "what happens to you in heaven?" he chuckled and said "When you go to heaven all of your dreams come true, you get to be what you always wanted to be on earth." So I asked him "Well when you go to heaven, what will you be? What is your dream?" and he looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I always wanted to be a writer, and if I can't become a writer in life I will be one in heaven". I was old enough to know the difference between heaven and earth so I asked, "But then only people in heaven will be able to read your books! What about us here on earth?" and he answered, "no, you don't understand. I will be able to tell my stories through writers on earth. Have you ever heard of a guardian angel? It would be like that except when a writer gets stuck and doesn't know what to write, I will whisper my stories into his ear. That is where 'inspiration' comes from. Angels in heaven living out their dreams by inspiring the people on earth they look after."

I don't know where this came from in my consciousness but I like to think that my Grandpa really came down and spoke with me in my dream, telling me things were ok and he was doing what he always wanted to do--telling his stories by inspiring writers here on earth. Being a music journalist, I know what writers block can be like, but every once in a while when I am stuck on a story an inspiration comes out of nowhere to guides my pen. When that happens I say a silent thank you to my Grandfather for the help. 

I know this touches upon a sore subject for some people with the religious implications. But please don’t see it in that way. When it comes to what happens to us when we die, most of us are agnostics, we just don’t know. We can’t know until we get there and I don’t know about you, but I am not in a rush to find out! But since we don’t know, it is entirely possible that those we love who we have lost are watching over us, laughing along with our jokes, crying with us at sad times but most importantly inspiring us and helping us when we need it. So we didn’t really lose them at all.

That dream helped me get through the loss of my grandfather, it was still painful but part of me knew from that night forward that he is still very much with me and my family. 

With the holiday’s coming up I know a lot of people who lost someone over the past year or so are going to have a hard time. Just like my friend who lost his father. That was why I wanted to share this story with him, it doesn’t bring his father back but it may provide some reassurance that his father is still there with him every step of the way.  That dream seemed too real to me to simply be a figment of my imagination and since then I have had more instances where I was inspired than before. 

Like my grandfather’s stories, this one has a moral to it as well. One is that we should cherish our loved ones while we have them near. Another friend of mine lost someone just this week. Aside from the usual grief, he has some guilt because over the past few months he has been too busy with “life” to take the time out to spend with this person. Now she is gone and he has to deal with the guilt of feeling he blew her off. I know I get too busy sometimes and a friend calls wanting to hang out and I just “can’t” find the time. But I learned something new and that is I should always find the time.  The only thing of real value in this life is our relationship with other people. You can’t buy happiness but you can be poor and be rich in friendship and love. Who is better off, the blue-collar guy who struggles to pay the bills but also has a family and friends who love him or the rich guy who is all alone? 

I think that covers two important points I was trying to make. One is that we never truly lose anybody. You may not believe as I do about them watching over you but that’s not important. As long as you remember them, they are never truly gone. They are a part of you. 

The second thing is we should be mindful of appreciating those who are in our lives, because we never know when they will leave it. Part of life is a revolving door, people come in and also leave but it’s important to get the most out of, as well as, give the most we can in our relationships. We can only be richer people as a result. 

I hope you can take something away from this article. I felt it was important to write. I was inspired to write it. Next month we will return to our regularly scheduled programming, but for this holiday season I wanted to share this story with you. I hope you have a great holiday season this year and the New Year gives you good fortune. 

 All the best… aG

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Posted by Kizzymarie:
That was the most honest and beautiful article I have ever read. I hope to hear more of these stories that Grandpa told. P.S. ask g-pa if he could help me get over my writers block too.

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