Inspiration is euphoric, addictive, and the brightest and most brilliant of flames. Unfortunately, it is also a poison to both the mind and the body. The composer, so afflicted by this bolt of lightning, can churn out his/her finest and deepest works rapidly and effortlessly. The pieces simply write themselves. The composer after such a high, may often be left to wonder how they were capable of such a creative act. After these violent bursts of passion and drive have passed, I am often left puzzled as to how such a flawed, ordinary person such as myself could give birth to these magnificent musical compositions. There used to be a fear and a terror in me that the inspiration would never return after a creative episode. I no longer have such worries. But now that I am in my mid 40's, I have become aware of the darker aspect of this state of euphoria. Inspiration is the fire that consumes the individual. Our minds and bodies as humans are not designed to handle the brilliance of these episodes; each consumes and permanently damages us little by little. In the end, this great gift and responsibility will turn us to ash long before our time. It is our penance, and the price we must pay as composers who are so gifted and endowed. In many ways, I do not believe that we are fortunate; only burdened in the most horrifying of ways.