You and Me, Forever and Ever...

"...the days go by oh so slowly, as the sun shines oh so holy on the good and gracious green, in the summer of my dreams."

I have always been the one who had more than one best friend. When we lived in Dallas, it was all the little girls in my 1st grade class. In Phoenix, it was the four girls I was forced to leave when we moved yet again. And now in Charlotte, I am one part of five girls who have more fun than anyone you have ever met. Through all of these changes, one thing stayed the same: Camp. And every day I thank God for camp, because it was there that I met my real best friend. The one I will never doubt or hate or ever forget. Nor could I forget the summer we became inseparable…

Every morning our CIT summer we would fight. Not because I was talking in my sleep or shaking the bunk too much with my restless turning. But rather because every night I told her I would get up and run those Blue Ridge Mountain hills with her, and every morning I ignored her attempts to wake me. I knew she hated it, and I knew she just wanted me to keep my promise. But every morning she still tried to wake me up, hoping I would change my lazy ways and go for a run with her. It was after a month of this relentlessness that I truly saw her for the first time. Sarah is passionate and understanding and the best person I know. But I didn’t even know all these things two years ago, all I knew was that she needed to stop waking me up at 6:30 am every day. Looking back on it now, I am so thankful she didn’t. She was determined to make me the best version of myself, and she would never cease to try. The summer of 2011 at CGA was the best yet. And I firmly believe it is because Sarah became more than just that annoying redhead waking me up every day. She became my best friend, my sister, and my role model.

Sarah and I had a countless talks about nothing this summer, but somehow they covered everything. We traded stories and thoughts about everything from life itself to God to family. I have never met someone who can be so kind and who has such an amazing heart. That is the main reason I love her, and the reason I cherish her as a friend. No matter who you are or where you come from, Sarah believes in you. She believes in your dreams and your aspirations, she acknowledges your fears and admits hers, she fights to make you a better person, she feels deeply and through to her heart no matter the subject. She listens and speaks at the exact moments you need her to. Before you even begin to speak you know she will understand. She is just the right amount of awkward, and sees the world in an amazing way. Remember when we were young enough to see the good instead of the bad? When everything sparkled and shined and nothing was unreachable? When the hero always won, but second chances were always an option? That’s how Sarah sees it.

No matter where I go or how my life ends up, Sarah and I will always be sisters at heart. She will change the world, just you wait and see. And you best believe I will be standing there next to her waiting to tackle-hug her when she does.

A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.
- Bernard Meltzer

Happy 18th Birthday Sarah. I will never forget you or how you changed my life.

"We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action. " -Frank Tibolt

Where it all began...

Inspiration is when the soul is touched by a power unfelt, unexplored, unrealized. It is the feeling of taking flight, without the sight of what could possibly be your fate down below. Feeling your soul jump and rejoice and celebrate at the idea of possibility, is like feeling the sun shine on your back, warm and capturing. I often recall the first moment I was truly inspired. I was young, maybe only eight or nine. We were in the mountains at our family condo, one of my favorite places to spend time. It is a place nestled in the mountains, near a lake that sparkles under the sunshine and ripples under the wind of an afternoon thunderstorm. I sat near a creek alone waiting for my cousins to come outside. I was alone for no more than ten minutes, but my eyes were opened to a world I had never truly appreciated. The water was crisp as it raced past the rocks and stones, roadblocks in an otherwise seamless path. I remember thinking there was nothing more beautiful than the sound of streaming water, and nothing more captivating than the way the light reflected off the water. I felt the need to express my thoughts and my soul was bursting with words, phrases, pages of ideas that needed to be released. It was not something I could say or something I could explain to anyone but myself. I found a piece of paper and let my pen go. I was inspired. I realized what I needed to say to the world, and all I needed to express to those who couldn’t see it how I now could. My eyes had been opened, and I needed to open others’.

That is what inspiration is about. We find our own so that others may find theirs.

Many people inspire me. But the people who we have all studied like Emerson, Thoreau and such are not nearly as important as those who personally affect our lives. I am inspired by the person who sees people for who they truly are and what they can be. I seek to find those who embrace the wonders of the world without attempting to alter them. They treat this place we are blessed with as a work of art to be appreciated, not an ongoing project to be changed. Have you ever lost yourself in nature? In its almost unbearable beauty? Have you explained to someone what you found when you were searching for nothing? If so, you have most likely inspired someone. In some great instances, inspiration can come from within one’s self. I once found a book I had written in when I was younger, when I had just begun writing. Re-reading it ten years later was like opening a forgotten place inside me, a treasure locked away for years. My words did not seem to be my own, but rather another person entirely. It took me pondering such thoughts for days to discover why I could no longer recognize my own hand, my own thoughts on paper. Why? I continued to ask myself. But it was a simple answer; people change. I am no longer the person I was ten years ago, or even yesterday. As the sun rises we are born anew, each day to be thought of as exploration and adventure. Inspiration stems from this search, this invigorating plunge into the unknown. I was unable to recognize my writing because I had changed. I continue to write, and I continue to change, and I continue to be inspired. By nature, by people, and by myself.