People often ask me where inspiration comes from, as if it hides in some distant sanctuary reserved for the fortunate few. Over time, through writing, creating, and observing life, I’ve discovered that inspiration isn’t something I must hunt down. It arrives when I make room for it. It moves through me rather than from me. I am not its owner but only its instrument.
Inspiration is subtle. It rarely appears when I strain for it. Instead, it reveals itself in those quiet spaces that form after I’ve expressed a sincere intention, having surrendered my zeal to control the outcome. It is in this space, between desire and release, that something deeper steps forward.
How Inspiration Shows Itself
In everyday life, inspiration has a distinct signature. It often appears in ways that are simple yet unmistakably mysterious:
- A problem that seemed impossible suddenly unravels with effortless clarity.
- A line of writing arrives fully formed, bypassing the usual mental labour.
- A fresh idea surfaces precisely when I stop pushing for one.
- A creative surge flows through me as though I’m witnessing myself work.
These moments carry a particular feeling or a sense that I am participating in a process rather than directing it. The work feels guided. I am not constructing; I am receiving.
The Experience That Defined Inspiration for Me
One of the most formative lessons I’ve had about inspiration happened 25 years ago while writing my first book, Good Bye, Mr Patel.
At the time, I told my friends with great conviction, “I’m not available this weekend because I am continuing to write my book.” It felt good, even noble, to dedicate myself so earnestly. I retreated into that weekend with discipline and determination, producing nearly twenty pages in two days. I felt proud.
But when Monday came, and I sat to read it all, the illusion shattered within minutes. The writing felt forced, flat, and entirely devoid of life. My pride dissolved into disappointment. In resignation, I tore up every single page.
That night, I went to bed with nothing but a quiet sense of defeat.
Then, at around four in the morning, I woke suddenly, not startled, but summoned. Something interior had stirred me awake. Without thinking, I walked to my desk, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep, and began to write. For three hours, words poured out in a stream I did not direct.
There was no conscious crafting. No self-editing. No effort. Only flow.
Later that afternoon, when I read what I had written, I felt a kind of astonishment I can still recall vividly today. The writing was beautiful. Honest. Alive. I had no recollection of forming those sentences. It felt as though some deeper intelligence had taken over and used me as its conduit.
That morning was my first true encounter with inspiration, not as an idea, but as an unmistakable force.
What Inspiration Taught Me
That experience reshaped the way I understand creativity and achievement. It taught me that:
- Inspiration enters when the ego steps aside.
- Sincere desire is a catalyst, but surrender is the gateway.
- Creativity is not something I produce alone, it expresses itself through me.
- When I stop forcing outcomes, the deeper intelligence within me reveals its voice.
This understanding has guided my work ever since. Inspiration is not dramatic or mystical. It is a natural presence that appears when I make myself available to it.
In the end, what I know with certainty is this:
Achievement is never solely mine. All achievement is through me, not by me.
My task is simply to show up with sincerity, create space, and let go. When I do, inspiration steps forward, quietly yet powerfully, and the work that emerges is always more authentic, more alive, and more true than anything I could craft through effort alone.
Anil Kumar
Langshott Leadership Foundation
“You write only what you are inspired to write… and the words come through you like the wind through the harp.” Kahlil Gibran