This I Believe

Six A.M. is a random time to discover what you stand for. The day started as any other, with the alarm going off, in turn tearing the pages of dreams from my head. The one word that remained hidden in the covers of my consciousness read: Already? After the obstacle of lumbering out of bed, changing into a T-shirt and shorts, and taping my headphones to my ears, I attempted my sneak-out-of-the-house-walk/pathetic-tip-toe-dance to escape an awakened parent’s lecture, and despite the tattle-tailing of my own steps, I somehow managed to do just that.

Outside I found myself in another realm. It was a Lorca landscape whose poetry sang in the silhouette of trees against the ocean blue sky of early morning. All was blue. In blue I could see etches of weathering paint on the fence. In blue my eyes wandered to the strands of grass standing as individuals. In blue I saw the rock wall outlining the entrance of the path I would soon endure. But the true beauty basked in that moon.

There on the blue canvas of the sky la luna painted her moonlit face. I had never seen such a spectacular moon, but as I gazed into her, her glow became very familiar. Her smiling expression encouraging me forward was that of my mother’s. Her graceful strength to hover independently yet caressingly was that of my father’s. Her artistic craters of personality were those of my sister’s. Her essence of wonder in the livelihood of imagination was that of my brother’s. Staring at this portrait I knew why I had to move, why I chose to be, who I dared to be. And with that I let her paint drip through my soul and into my heart as I finally embarked on my run into the forest.

I believe in first finding what inspires you. From the pen whose voice sounds through lined pages to the mitt that completes your hand or the moon that embraces you, inspiration is all around us. Look up. To me, the stars are flickering candle tips, whose blinking flames are proof that there is yet more. Maybe if you are a chef, you look up and see the stars as sprinkles of sugar, spread perfectly to complete the recipe of the night sky. Maybe if you are a soldier, you look up and see the stars as a message from home, the signature a passing comet. Or maybe if you do not even know who you are, the time it takes to just look up for that moment, may be enough to make the moments of time you still have, your own.