I met a woman some years ago named Nightengale who longed to find the song she was meant to sing. Her name had been given to her, I assume, expressing the hope of her parents of what she would become.
Her heart, which had grown very pure, sought this song within herself, around herself, when she went for walks, when she tried to write, when she went to sleep at night. She told me that many songs came to her in bits and pieces, but the true inspiration that would come from the deepest place in her heart could not quite be grasped.
Over the years, inspirations came to her and inspirations went. When I met her again years later, she had traveled to India to find inspiration and some songs had come to her but they were chants from an ancient past. They were not her song. She had traveled to New York City and lived there for a while among struggling artists and musicians who were each trying to 'make it' in the music business. Some were looking for their inner song as well, but many were looking for a song to sell.
She rented a little house by a beach and lived there for a while, walking in the early morning sunlight, listening to the ocean waves, listening to their rhythm. She described how her heart, beating to the crashing of the waves upon the shore, beat more loudly in her chest. I could see her footsteps, light upon the wet sand.
Despite the beauty of the ocean, she could not find her song at the beach, nor in the city, nor in India, nor in any other place she traveled to. When I met her again most recently, she was still looking. Life had claimed her attention with the practical matters of daily life, but her heart was still searching for that inner musical thread.
I mentioned to her that inspiration comes from a Divine place within. It is the flow of the soul seeking a channel for expression. Sometimes a door opens for a brief period when that channel is found, then it closes when the impulse has passed. Nightengale said: "That's an interesting 'take'. I'll have to think about it."