I had never really written anything except what was asked of me in school, but I had always entertained myself by telling silent stories in my mind. As I stared at the billowy white clouds that clung to the horizon, vibrant words flooded my mind like a raging river after a long storm. I was compelled to scribble those thoughts on a crumpled old napkin that was discovered at the base of my worn, tattered backpack. Those words took shape and began to for the poem that would jump-start my passion for writing; I knew then, at that moment, I was destined to express life and life�s emotions through words.
I was carefully sitting on the rocky surface of the cobblestone wall at the top of a tall, luscious hill on which the old, decaying high school stood. The wall was poorly designed to prevent people from plunging off the cliff. From atop the small wall, I could see the entire Monterey Bay. There it was. The beauty of the world stared at me as if to say �I am here to inspire you.� And in fact, the shimmering water with the gentle white caps tumbling along the shore; the fisherman sorting and cleaning the catch of the day as tourists watched and meandered along Fisherman�s Warf; the long lines slowly slithering and winding like a slinking snake waiting to enter the aquarium; and the young children scampering around like ants playing in the sand of Dennis the Menis park without a care in the world were absolutely inspiring on the cool autumn day.
I began to look at the world through a new light. Trees were no longer just trees. They were enormous evergreens stretching to the heavens with vibrant green limbs expanding to create homes for small animals and shade from the warm sun. The sky was bleu and clear as crystal. There were a few tumbling, wisping, white clouds off in the distance, but they only added to the amazing beauty I saw.
I could smell the rancid rotting fish from the Warf down below. It was almost as if I was sitting on the boat. The stench was that pungent. The scent of the salt water mixed with seaweed made up the sweet aroma of the ocean. I woke up to the sweet smell of the ocean every morning, and every morning I was inspired by the beauty that lay down the pothole filled street.
If I listened closely I could hear the white caps crashing on the sandy beach. There was a soft rhythm created my Mother Nature�s waves. I fell into a trance when I focused on that purr alone. The sound of the children�s laughter ringing through the hills was music to my ears. They were so happy and so free; I yearned to be down there playing among them. The chatter of the people in the slithering lines of the Monterey Bay Aquarium were faintly heard. Fathers and mothers were complaining about the lines while the children ran around laughing and giggling as if they were just happy to be out of school.
The emotions I felt as I scribbled on that napkin were stronger than ever before. Pearl Buck once said, �The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, lover a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create � so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency, he is not really alive unless he is creating.� On that beautiful autumn day that quote became unbelievably clear. I now appreciate life and the beauty it holds far more than ever before. Everywhere I got I carry a pad of paper and pen, just in case I am struck with the sudden inspiration of a moment.
The transformation I had undergone from the quiet thinker to the emotional expresser of thought through words that afternoon was truly amazing. I am not exactly sure what provoked the change; perhaps it was the simple, complex beauty of the day, or perhaps it was something all together deeper.