When Inspiration Knocks

JANE: Why Are you smiling? 
THE STRANGER: Because I am inspired. I am inspired by YOU.
JANE: Me... me?
THE STRANGER: A more accurate question would be 'why NOT you?' 
JANE: Okay.
THE STRANGER: I see what you did right there. That frown. That look. That start of an eye roll. You tried to understand it with your mind. With your intellect. But this isn't for the mind. Intelligence isn't needed to follow what I am going on and on about here. This, all of this... is for the heart. 
Beat.
When you felt inspired in your life - surely you've felt inspired in some pivotal unforgettable moments in your life - where did you feel it in the body? 
JANE: Where? 
THE STRANGER: Yeah. Where did you feel it? 
JANE: Um...
THE STRANGER: The heart. You felt it in the heart. Not the physical heart, but rather the subtextual heart. The underneath of all things. See, when something resonates with us, when something echos 'I am real' to us, and it's loud and clear and beautiful, it touches us deeply in our bodies. We FEEL it. It's our metaphysical heart that responds to inspiration. You can call it God. Or Source. Or nature. Or consciousness. Or a million other words humans made up to try to make sense of their senses. To make sense of everything that is beyond our five senses in this world. But no word can match up to a feeling, a sensation in the body. They are prior to words. You, I, WE are prior to words. Words sometime shrink us down. Minimize us. Box us in. 
JANE: But sometimes words can explain things. 
THE STRANGER: Yes. Words explain, that is accurate. And they can expand us. But the body is superior to the mind and the senses are miles ahead of logic. Do you understand?
JANE: In some ways, I think. 
THE STRANGER: Uh-huh. And in other ways you don't.
JANE: Well... you use words to explain. You use big words. Metaphors. And they sound beautiful... very eloquent. I'd even say poetic. But the more I sit and listen, the more I think of you as a performer, and of me as your audience.
THE STRANGER: Why not think of us as friends?
JANE: I just met you. 
THE STRANGER: True. Moments ago I was a stranger, and now here we are talking deeply as two people who look into each other's soul, not strangers any longer. And if not strangers, why NOT friends?
JANE: Okay. Okay. You clearly want to affect me here. To rile me up. Or to 'inspire' me. But if what you say is true and the body knows what the logic doesn't...
THE STRANGER: Go on.
JANE: Well, let's just say that my body knows some things here and it says to me 'oh, nope', because it totally and completely picks up on your bullshit. Don't take it the wrong way, I am sure you are a lovely man with some interesting thoughts and philosophies and beliefs on why people are the way they are and the world is what it is. But in the equation of this conversation here: you are not my friend. You are solely a guy trying to pick me up from a hotel bar on a Tuesday night in September. You are a stranger, and a strange one indeed. 
(Beat.)
Suddenly you have no more words to spare, huh?

The Stranger leaves. 

JANE: (to the bartender) I'll take another G & T. Thanks.