“Hey, Mom. Are you up?” At six in the morning myeyes were just opening. When the phone rang that early, I would prepare myself for bad news. But it was my sweet son calling. “Hi, sweetheart. It's good to hear your voice. What's up?” I sat up preparing for a long conversation about something he needed help with. “I know what I'd like to do for my birthday.” Instantly, I was relieved it was not some trauma. “That's great. Twenty-one is a big year. What would you like to do?” “I'd like to jump out of a plane.” Images of my beautiful son tangled in a tree flickered in my imagination. “Really?” “Yes. With you.” “Oh! Ummm. Can't you find someone your own age to do that with?” I felt the immediate contraction of all my muscles along with the conflicting desire to support my son's passions. That's how it started. I jumped out of a plane with my son Isaiah at 7,000 feet at forty-nine years old. His idea was for us to face our fears together in celebration of his milestone birthday. As his mother, how could I refuse? The experience was intense, totally in present moment; and then it was gone. Part of me was stunned for a couple of hours despite my being totally functional. What did I do? What did I learn? It happened so fast that it seems as if it didn't really happen.But up we went. The clouds were low, but the sun was trying to break through. We arrived at the check in spot. It was our moment. At last. But oddly, I felt no fear, only excitement, which expressed itself in a smile. Yep, we are going. Out of gear boxes came gloves, red baron hats, and jumpsuits. We geared up. We got wide latched straps put onto our backs, through our legs and over our arms. The small plane pulled around. Our instructors went ovethe directions one more time: “Arch the back, cross the arms, head back, and do whatever I say for a slide or running landing. OK? Got that?” I stayed calm but happy. I stepped into the plane first,took a deep breath and exhaled with determination. My gut told me it would be OK. I sat between my instructor's lap, our legs straight out. He kept grabbing the shoulder straps and tugging them tighter. I felt like a toddler being lifted into a snuggly. Isaiah and his instructor came in next. It was tight, no extra room. The instructor rolled down the little canvas door. Isaiah asked the instructor lots of questions. Hazel eyes twinkling with excitement he wanted to know, how high we would go? How long would we be free falling? At what point does the parachute open? Just like when he was little. Lots of questions. The plane came off the runway and began its ascent. Beautiful. All the color clouds and light. The plane made several big upward circles. Still not scared. At six-thousand feet, my instructor snapped me to him. On went the goggles. The door was rolled up. We looked out over the canopy of the world. “Are you ready?” “Yup”. “Move up as soon as they are out.” “OK.” Then suddenly, they were gone. Over the top and we, with one great heave, were at the opening. “God, Shit. We are so high.” I stammered, my stomach tied in knots. Sudden terror and, I was out. The moment was like being catapulted straight down a mountain, head over heels. Hard. Cold air slapped me in one fell swoop. The free fall was fast, physical, terrifying. I imagined falling to my death. Then, something flew out of my instructors back. Oh my God, the plane fell away. The chute opened and everything went still. We were motionless, floating so high in heaven. There was no sound, wind, or motion. This is what it must feel like to be out of my body. Just awareness. It was extraordinary. ‘Hey, how are you doing?” called a voice from behind me. “OK, but I can't feel my legs.” “The straps just stopped your circulation. Put your feet on mine and try to stand up.” The world began to move again as we got closer to the ground. We were headed right over the highway and the wind was trying to hold us back. “I'm going to have to spin us outta here. Get ready.” My stomach lurched. Every cell in me was trying to distance myself from a sense of trauma. And great resolve not to die. We spun, top speed, whirling in the sky and dropping fast. ‘'I'm gonna throw up!” Then, we were free floating again. We cleared the highway. The ground came at me like a train head on. My instructor yelled for me to put my hands under my knees and hold my feet up. “We're gonna slide in. When I say so, just sit.”. “I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die,” I screamed. But then, miraculously, I was on my heels and butt, sliding to a halt. Grounded. Done. What all just transpired? We unhitched our gear. I couldn't speak. But I scanned the area for my son. He was taking off his gear, chatting joyously with the instructor. ‘How was your freefall, Isaiah? I was terrified for a moment.” I said. ‘Mom, I'm used to it from jumping off of bridges into the river.” I just stared at him in disbelief. Now, when I am told I must be out of my mind, I know what that must feel like.

Every year, I meet a stranger. She has my name, my memories, and my reflection in the mirror. Yet somehow, she is never quite the same person I was before. One of those strangers was thirteen years old. She believed love had to be earned. Not demanded. Not expected. Earned. She thought good grades would earn it. Obedience would earn it. Being polite, agreeable, and easy to manage would earn it. She believed that if she became everything others wanted her to be, she would finally be enough. So she learned to stay quiet. When she disagreed, she swallowed her words. When she wanted something different, she pushed the thought away. Being liked felt safer than being honest. Being accepted felt more important than being understood. For years, she carried an invisible scale. Every achievement added weight to one side. Every mistake added weight to the other. At the end of each day, she measured herself and wondered whether she had done enough to deserve appreciation. The strange thing about chasing approval is that there is never a finish line. No matter how much she achieved, there was always something more to prove. Then life did what life often does. It asked questions she could not answer with obedience. Questions about who she was, what she believed. Questions about whether a person without achievements was somehow worth less than everyone else. For the first time, she stopped searching for answers in other people and started searching for them within herself. The answers did not arrive all at once. They came slowly, through mistakes, through disappointment, through realizing that being loved by everyone is impossible and being understood by everyone is unnecessary. Most importantly, they came through one simple realization: A person's value is not something they earn. It is something they already possess. Today, when I look back at that thirteen-year-old girl, I do not judge her. I understand her. She was trying to find her place in the world using the only map she had. But I am no longer her. I speak when I have something to say. I allow myself to have opinions. I care less about fitting perfectly into other people's expectations and more about remaining true to my own values. The girl who once wanted her future written by the hands of others now wants to hold the pen herself. And perhaps that is why I love meeting strangers. Because every year, another version of me arrives. She questions things I once accepted. She sees possibilities I once ignored. She teaches me something the previous version could not understand. A year from now, I will meet another stranger. I do not know what she will believe. I do not know what fears she will leave behind. I do not know what lessons she will learn. But I hope she remembers what it took us years to discover: We were never meant to earn our right to matter. We always had it.

By Michelle Steiner “You can go to college.” The student said. I will never forget the hope that I felt hearing those words. I did not think that with my learning disability, I was able to go to college. I had professionals who told me that I could not do it, and that if I did, I would most likely not go beyond community college. “Isn't that for smart kids?” Certainly not those with disabilities or who struggled with math. But finally, someone believed in me and gave me inspiration to follow my dreams. From the very beginning, school was a struggle for me academically and socially. I was diagnosed with a learning disability in kindergarten. My teacher noticed that I was having difficulty with writing my name, counting, tying my shoes, and doing dot-to-dot pages. I was evaluated by the school psychologist, who diagnosed me with having one. I had to repeat the grade in a new school in your district. I had specialized instruction in all areas and accommodations. The specialized instruction was designed to be based on my needs. I also had the accommodations of having the test read aloud and extended test time. Having these supports enabled me to be in the regular education classroom for Science, Social Studies, and Reading. My brain needed these accommodations to process information and to even the playing field among my peers. By the time I was in high school, I was in all regular education classes except for math and a resource room. I also struggled socially in school. I went to a small conservative school district, where if you were one of them, you were accepted. It was clear from the start that I did not fit in. Everyone knew that I struggled in the classroom and went to learning support. Quickly, I got labeled the outcast. I also had those who doubted that I could achieve my dreams with one. I had a learning support teacher who did not think that I could handle college and suggested a trade school. I also had a psychiatrist who told me that I would most likely not go beyond community college. Despite the doubts and fear, I went forward. I faced more stigma in college from both faculty and students. Disability accommodations were considered cheating. When I asked for a calculator in a math class, the professor told me we use our brains, not calculators, here. I had another professor who told me that I would have limited job choices when I graduated. My grades were dropping, and I had people tell me that I could do better. Even with all of the struggle, I did not give up. I could hear the voice of the student teacher saying, I could do it. I was able to graduate with an Associate's Degree in Early Childhood Education. I was also able to graduate from Slippery Rock University many years later. I found a program that had the least amount of math and science possible. I also had disability accommodations, and I advocated for myself. Becoming a published author was another dream of mine that came true. I always loved to read and write. I had friends in a writing group who encouraged me to write about having one. I was not ready at the time. When I was ready, it was one of the most healing things that I have ever done. Other people say that they can relate to my stories. I write about having a disability at my blog Michelle's Mission www.michellesmission.com and feature my photography too. I also work as a teacher's aide in a school for students with disabilities. I find it rewarding to help children with them. Oftentimes, listening to them is like hearing a recording of myself at their age. Many times, I hear students say that they hate their disability and wish they did not have one. I get to tell them that having a disability is not a bad thing. All the students and staff know, or will soon find out, not to ask me to help with math. My brain is not wired for that. But I can help with other subjects and life lessons. I also show my students how to advocate. One day, they will leave me, but their disability will remain. They must learn how to manage it now and speak up for themselves. I am not the same person as when I was diagnosed all of those years ago. I have gone through struggles with learning and making friends. The path to success has not always been a smooth, straight one. I have had many twists, turns, and bumps on the journey. Many people doubted me, but I also had those who believed in me. I could not have been successful without the support of family, friends, and my teachers. Especially the encouraging ones who saw the potential in me when I did not. There have been failures and hurt, but there has also been healing. Writing has been a powerful tool in this, and has given me a voice. Today, as I work with students with disabilities, I encourage them and tell them that they can do it too.

“She's sick, surrounded by hypocrites, her life is a tragedy.” “A tragedy? Spare me. Does she even have a heart?” “Right — and only you do...” The women spoke loudly in the crowded bus, oblivious to everyone else. The passengers looked away, each hiding behind their own indifference. I glanced at them, trying to escape my spiralling thoughts. Rain trickled down the window. Grey coats, grey faces. A dreary world soaked in hopelessness. It had been a month since I shut down my company, a draining and disappointing grind that barely paid the bills. I was exhausted from doing work I didn't love. Trapped in a life that felt like a dead end. I felt more ghost than person, each day blurring into the next, numbed by regret and fatigue. “Don't crowd at the front!” called the conductor. “Next stop: Railway Station.” As the bus slowed, a man at the back suddenly shouted, “Open Sesame!” What a charming soul, I thought, and smiled. Open Sesame. The magic phrase that unlocks the cave of treasures. Who knows what's waiting just around the corner? What surprise this gloomy April day might bring? Yes. I would carry with me that phrase. My personal spell. And of course, I would go to Shanghai. To hell with fear. I was going. A flicker of light warmed my chest. The fog inside me began to lift. “Achoo!” sneezed a little boy from the front seat. Thank you, little one, for the blessing. I got off the bus early and walked home through the drizzle. With trembling fingers, I turned on my computer and wrote to Trevor Wilson: “Yes. I'm coming.” Trevor was a New Zealander, a university lecturer teaching English as a second language in China. We had met through an online forum connected to my now-defunct training company. We communicated through Google Translate, as I spoke no English just the remnants of the German I had learned at school. He had offered to pay for my travel and invited me to visit. I wasn't sure... until that moment. Something unseen was pulling me east. In my imagination, Shanghai shimmered with Chinese gondolas, fragrant gardens, and birds singing freedom songs in vibrant colours. The air smelled of mandarins and mangoes. I could almost hear the bamboo flutes. Trevor booked me into the Howard Johnson hotel, an elegant, sunlit place where I felt like a visiting queen. The lobby smelled of citrus and wood. The sheets in my room whispered with freshness. Each evening, we dined somewhere new. Trevor's eyes sparkled with gentle mischief as he introduced me to dishes I couldn't pronounce, patiently repeating their names until I could say them with confidence. He was kind and generous, romantic in ways I hadn't expected. The city stunned me. Skyscrapers and neon nights loomed above unfamiliar streets, yet something tugged at me. It was as if I had lived here before, left, and now, somehow, was finding my way back—to this city, to Trevor, to myself. English was my only obstacle. Trevor helped me through it. His encouragement dissolved my fear. I spoke with clumsy courage, and to my surprise, people listened. I began to feel I belonged. At the hotel, I met a Japanese receptionist Emiko, graceful, and bright. She carried the patient grace of someone who believed that every conversation, no matter how halting, was a small bridge across the world. Warmly, she encouraged me to visit Buddhist temples and shop for silk and spices in the old town. There was something familiar about her — the eyes, the gestures, the quiet way her smile lingered. Then it came to me: Julia Roberts. It amazed me how someone from a different world could resemble the American Cinderella from Pretty Woman. I found excuses to talk to her. Emiko patiently corrected my English and repeated difficult expressions. One day she asked, “What's your native language?” “Russian, like most Soviet people, regardless of ethnicity,” I replied. She smiled, intrigued. The next morning, my hotel phone rang. I picked it up. A bright voice with a strong accent said, in Russian, “Good morning, madam! Are you awake?” It was Emiko, my Julia Roberts. She stretched every syllable like a singer, filling me with joy and sending me into helpless laughter. In that moment, the once-distant world opened its arms. And it spoke my language. Now, more than twenty years have passed. I have become an author, writing historical novels and nonfiction books — in English. Recently, I published my first book on Amazon — a little guide to personal growth, illustrated with my own drawings. And I am writing this story with heartfelt gratitude and tender memory of that Open Sesame moment…for my husband Trevor, although he won't be able to read these lines while he is still alive. His love was the first page of the story I was meant to write. Because the magic of that day lives on—in my words, my journey, and in the love that opened every door. Some treasures, once found, remain forever open.

In the world of known and unknown, a day can't be counted without a single dream flight; A girl there with hope and little steps tries to seek wisdom and light. Nature gives us the best lesson Without notifying us of the reason, If one can find the actual cause Everything in life will make a good job. From waking up in the morning she glimpses the sun Always regular and never miss the fun, From her mother, she learns to be kind Evil and mischief should not be in her mind, Her father, an engineer wise and bright Showed her wonders of logic and light, He helped her to figure out her mind She learned how her brain how was designed. Seeing her garden blooming and smiling Make her spirit jump and twirling, Mango trees, rooted in deep and strong Teach her, where she belongs, Chirping birds made her find her tune Their melody has painted a stunning afternoon, Squirrel taught her amusement and cheer Birds taught her to spread her wings without fear. Sky taught her to have a big heart It is never too late for a fresh new start, Soil taught her to make her base strong Expressing her feeling is never wrong. She learned to listen, understand others, and share And lend a hand, showing she truly cares, The river of time keeps flowing It shows that there is no time for waste, The present will turn into past Enjoy it as it is your last, Through the Mangrove forest 1, she wandered wide Where the wise owls perched, their knowledge and guide, By climbing the Tazing Dong 2 she learned to push herself for the best Which helped her never give up on a sudden test. Worker ants took her boredom away A tireless work to assemble a future day by day, She found her glow to shine in the darkest night Forgiving others is better than a fight, Moon's peaceful glow is painting the sky with grace Told tales of peace and serenity to embrace, She likes to calm her mind with the sound of rain A perfect partner is a cup of chai 3. Stormy nights when the thunder roared and the lighting danced Made her fearless to take every chance, From the busiest city, she set up her inspiration Working hard just to make her creation, She explored her passion without any hesitation Finding her way has no expiration, Each day she takes lessons from a profession She knows knowledge is the key to her liberation. Like farmers plant seeds in the soil Teacher plant knowledge to not make the mind a foil, They help by teaching young mind They are after our parents in our respect line, One can never conceal the truth Lawyers teach, speaking the truth is a ripe fruit, Her grandfather, a freedom fighter teaches her to fight When it comes to rights, Artist Missy taught her how to print a picture Painting can be a mood fixer. By working hard one can go to the moon Achieving Smart Bangladesh is going to be very soon, Farmers grow crops full of patience Success cannot be seen if you are impatience, Police catch the criminals to keep us safe So we can have better days. To show the world current news Journalists work without any excuse, Brother like Tom needs to be everywhere So anyone can get help anywhere, He works for those who are in demand, the poor and the sick The one who has kept back, for one has been kicked, Athlete taught her to break her limit Create a record of every single minute, From next door firefighter, she learned about fear and sacrifice Fear didn't hold her back tonight, They fight for our future and our generation So there can be no more separation, Sacrificing own rest is normal When it comes to saving a life, The doctor gave her every minute So anyone don't lose their inner spirit, They are our only hope And helps us to understand how to cope. She should follow her dreams wherever she goes Let her shine according to her inner glow, She learned to adapt, to go with the flow Navigating life's currents, wherever they'd bestow, It is normal to learn early or late Do the right so you don't end up with a bad fate, It is funny everything was a lesson To help us all to find our passion. Learning from nature and its surrounding is free To learn you don't need to achieve a degree, Look around and feel the world One can't describe its morals in words, Age is just a number When it comes to becoming a moral learner, So let us not be held by our age When it is judged by the calendar page, Let's learn a lesson with an open and pure heart So society can shine by our parts, Let's all sing-song of humanity And follow everything that Mother Nature has taught.

For years, we didn't really talk. We didn't even look at each other anymore, but here we are today. You, lifting me up while I am crumbling. Picking me up and embracing me and coming to see me every day. A father carries his child through the darkest time. We were drifting apart, unable to fully express how we felt. Nothing major happened, really. We just didn't understand each other. We were mentally and culturally different. Me having grown here, and you having left half of your heart over there. It was a long time ago; I told you. You should embrace this new world. We didn't smile at each other, making everyone else feel embarrassed in our presence. We fought sometimes about the most meaningless things. “Life is not what it used to be when you were my age.” And still, here we are today. With the warmth of your word, you build me up. How I love you, dad. How can I tell our story without revealing too much? A serious man, against a needy child. Me, your 8th problem and mouth to feed. You, the only man I'll care about during all my life. What have we done to destroy each other? Why must you be so important? You disapprove of my ways. My impulses and my new obsessions. “It is always something else with her”. “Yesterday, it was reading books now it's writing them!” “You cannot make it, not in the way you think.” And still, you listen to my words when you feel less nervous. You only wish for the best, after all. Nothing malicious. I understand you better now that we walked together. Now that we talked together about the most mundane things. You're the strength I needed. The wall on which I rest. A face I'll always cherish and I promise, I will never make you another request. How I love you, dad. Growing old will feel cruel without you. How I wish I'll be gone before I even start to miss you.

Well, The essay of mine is based on overcoming conflicts in my personal life. If I reveal something about my personality, character or lifestyle, I am such a calm, peace, introvert , relaxed person I can say , not having upsetterd the people is one of my manner, because, my character prevent to them, definitely you have a question, why am I writing or exposing my character in that essay, so to explain I have encountered so many problems, conflicts, issues and longitude considerations. Relatively, I am absolutely say as one of the minor member of this generation -people especially youngsters do not want to respect others, genuinely I had had some kind of conflicts with children, individuals and school organization that year, I am going to speak about them one by one in my essay. Initially, my personal character has caused many misunderstandings with schoolers during my school years, for example I do not fancy having a conversation with the people who are irresponsible, irresistible, irrespective, rough, rude and also stupid , nonetheless, we must have admitted these types of people are more and more around us, once upon a time , when I have paid a visit to school in the back years , some teens in my school had kidding me and say something worse about me, at that time I did not give pay attention to their stereotypes, I though it was a simple childish things of them , but it was not going that I thought , due to their permeant , usual sentences, then it was reached to the high volume and I should have done something to prevent these bad things for me , at this time I had a few conceptions to get rid of their violations or bullying, genuinely you cannot say only done of the bad words, or actions must not be a violation, nevertheless it was not like you thought , therefore I have three ways to figure out this conflict, first of I can utilize adequate manipulations to their psychology , coz if they had had a good personality, they wouldn't have behaviored themselves in this way , in this situation, only did we influence them with the true and impactful opinions and conversation, it was likely to be influencer , or just I ought to address to their guardians or parents, if I was not able to mange it , I would call their parents, so that I have selected the initial manner in the light of straightforward and easy one.Next day I did come across again to them in the prior corridor, tranquility was really dominated at that condition, they bound to reveal some of nasty or unacceptable sayings again and again, after that I had been trying to have a top-notch and real conversation with them, I requested them why they were doing it to me , I had spoken about their life, be a merciful person, like how??? you have a question like that , I brought them to the orphanages' house firstly, then we went to the refugee's ones and punerity locations which poor people reside. Then I said it was not too complex to be better individ , every person has a admirable personality, favourable hobbies, closest acquaintances who is able to shape that person from the core. After this phenomenal situation, every member of his "crew " left there without any words , genuinely they realized that we must have been thankful, respectful, and responsible human, we must take a look for the significant issues around our world , they understood, by kidding someone or embarrassed condition they did not attain their perspectives, it is such an ordinary, provisional feeling. I was both happy to influence for someone to find out the significance of their life why they are living in this life, what the importance of their goals dreams and, indispensably, to be grateful person , due to the fact that's not only did they do these actions for me but also for others, that's why I did these campaigns manners to them, it was beneficial for everyone who were suffering from them , because everyone has a right to live proudly, independently.

Planting seeds of greatness, one by one, Some for nourishment, others for fun, The journey of growth has now begun. Watch and mirror the pro, she knows the way, Grasping the secrets of greatness each day. With a heart sincere and desire strong, Vow in the plow where dreams belong. In trusting and allowing, find peace profound, Navigate the path where hope is found. Expect greatness, nurture seeds with care, But know, before the breakthrough, adversity will be there. What choice will you make, what will you do? When challenges arise and skies aren't blue. Yet, because you've stood firm, your harvest draws near, Don't halt, press onward, your moment is here. Keep going, keep striving, don't dare to despair, For in perseverance, triumph is near. Press forward, prevail, your efforts are clear, In the soil of persistence, your greatness appears. © 2024, Stephene Klein Originally Pandemic Inspired © 2020, Stephene Klein

Inspiration may boost our creativity and change our life. Inspiration is an unexpected rush of creativity that leads to new ideas and solutions. It ignites imagination and motivates us to attain our biggest aspirations. Philosophers, artists, and scientists have investigated these mysterious phenomena. Inspiration's Complexity Inspiration comes in many forms and unexpected locations. It affects every area of human existence throughout cultures and societies. Inspiration fuels advancement in the arts, sciences and personal and social transformation. Inspiration in Art (1.1) Inspiration rules art. It fuels creativity, creating stunning works that capture and move us. The spark fuels the creative process, turning a blank canvas into a colorful, textured masterpiece. Subsection 1.2: Literature's Inspiration Inspiration shapes stories and people in literature. The spark inspires authors to build rich stories and fascinating universes. A delayed train ride inspired J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. The writer's muse whispers in their ear and gives their words life. Subsection 1.3: Music's Inspiration Inspiration also drives the music. The catalyst turns introductory notes into moving melodies and words. Beethoven's nature-inspired symphonies still thrill audiences decades later. Composers are guided by an invisible hand. Subsection 1.4: Science Needs Inspiration Inspiration matters even in science. It drives breakthroughs and inventions. Sir Isaac Newton's apple-induced gravity discovery shows how inspiration may lead to scientific achievements. Curious scientists question, investigate, and invent. Inspiration Psychology Understanding inspiration's psychology helps reveal how it affects our ideas and behaviors. Inspiration Science (2.1) Inspiration is a complicated psychological process. It requires a quick cognitive change that expands our horizons. Inspiration transforms ideas into novel solutions. It allows us to think creatively and view things differently. 2.2: Inspiration vs. Motivation Inspiration and motivation are related yet separate. Motivation drives us toward specific goals. Fuel helps us overcome challenges and endure. Inspiration comes from inside, ignited by passion or interest. 3: Inspiring Inspiration might occur suddenly, but we can foster it daily. Creating an inspiring atmosphere and adopting certain behaviors might help us have those unforgettable moments of insight and creativity. Subsection 3.1: Nature Inspiration Nature's beauty and complex patterns inspire. Nature inspires creativity, innovation, and new viewpoints. Nature has a way of touching our spirits and stimulating our ideas. It encourages artists, authors, and creatives with its beauty and wonder. 3.2: Inspiring Others Diversity inspires innovation. It fosters empathy and understanding by appreciating other views. The rich tapestry of cultural traditions, the inspiring stories of people who have overcome hardship, and the inventive ideas and practices of many communities inspire people and cultures. They challenge our beliefs and broaden our worldview. Finding Inspiration Everyday Daily life may inspire. Staying open to the world and finding significance in the mundane is crucial. The beauty and wonder of everyday life may inspire us, whether it's a cup of coffee, a child's giggle, or the sunset. Mindfulness and presence help us notice and be inspired by these times. 4: Inspiration's Effect Inspiration transforms people and society. Inspiration and Self-Development Inspiration can boost self-improvement. It can inspire self-improvement and excellence. Inspiring others can help us grow. It encourages us to dream big and attain our potential. 4.2: Leadership and Business Inspiration Leadership and business require inspiration. Inspirational leaders inspire their people to perform well, creating a good and productive workplace. Companies that draw inspiration from their goal and values may generate unique goods and services that customers love. The hidden element may make a decent leader or company outstanding and boost growth. Subsection 4.3: Inspiration as Social Change Catalyst Inspiration also changes society. It may fuel social movements and humanitarian initiatives and motivate people to improve the world. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Civil Rights Movement speeches and Malala Yousafzai's fight for girls' education were inspired. It inspires us to fight for our beliefs and change the world. Inspiration Lasts Inspiration sparks creativity, innovation, and life change. Push may expand our horizons in art, literature, music, science, and life. Understanding and using inspiration may improve our lives and the planet. Inspiration comes from nature's beauty, people's tales, art, literature, music, and science and technology's breakthroughs. It reminds us of beauty, wonder, and promise. It's a call to explore, create, invent, push limits, and achieve greatness.

As the world struggled with the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, there were many stories of despair and hardship. People lost their jobs, their loved ones, and their sense of security. But amid all the chaos and uncertainty, there were also stories of hope, resilience, and kindness. One such story was that of Emma, a nurse who had been working on the frontlines of the pandemic since it began. She had seen firsthand the toll the virus was taking on people's lives, and she was determined to do what she could to make a difference. Emma worked long hours at the hospital, often going days without rest. She saw patients of all ages, from newborns to the elderly, and she did her best to provide them with the care and compassion they needed. Despite the challenges she faced, Emma never lost her sense of purpose or her dedication to her patients. One day, as Emma was finishing her shift, she received a call from her sister. Her sister, who lived in another city, had just given birth to a baby girl. Emma was thrilled to hear the news and couldn't wait to meet her new niece. However, with travel restrictions in place due to the pandemic, Emma wasn't sure if she would be able to visit her sister and her new niece. She felt a pang of sadness at the thought of missing out on such an important moment in her family's life. But then something amazing happened. When Emma's colleagues at the hospital heard about her situation, they rallied around her. They came up with a plan to cover her shifts for the next few days so that she could take some time off to visit her sister and her new niece. Emma was overwhelmed by their kindness and generosity. She had always known that her colleagues were dedicated and caring, but this was something else entirely. It was a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there were still people who were willing to go above and beyond to help others. With tears in her eyes, Emma packed her bags and headed off to see her sister and her new niece. When she arrived, she was greeted with hugs and smiles and the sweet scent of her new niece. She spent the next few days with her family, holding the baby, laughing with her sister, and taking long walks in the fresh air. As she made her way back to the hospital a few days later, Emma felt renewed and re-energized. She knew that there were still many challenges ahead, but she also knew that she wasn't alone. She had her colleagues, her family, and a newfound sense of hope to carry her forward. From that day on, Emma made a point of looking for the bright spots in each day. She smiled more often, laughed more freely, and took the time to appreciate the little things in life. And as she continued to work on the frontlines of the pandemic, she knew that she was making a difference – not just in the lives of her patients, but in her own life as well.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Sarah. She had always dreamed of becoming a successful businesswoman, but she knew it would take more than just hard work and determination to make her dream a reality. She would have to move mountains to get what she wanted. Sarah grew up in a small town where opportunities were few and far between. Her family didn't have the means to support her education or her career aspirations, so she had to figure out a way to make it on her own. She worked tirelessly at her part-time job, saving every penny she could, and studying business in her spare time. Despite her hard work and dedication, Sarah faced many obstacles on her journey. She was constantly told that she couldn't do it, that she wasn't smart enough or talented enough to make it in the business world. But Sarah refused to let anyone's negativity bring her down. The first mountain Sarah had to move was getting a college education. Her family couldn't afford to send her to college, and she didn't have the grades or test scores to qualify for scholarships. But Sarah was determined. She took out student loans, worked multiple jobs, and even took classes at night to make it happen. It was a grueling and difficult process, but Sarah finally graduated with a degree in business. Next, Sarah had to find a job in her field. She applied to countless companies, but was met with rejection after rejection. She was told that she was overqualified, underqualified, or just not the right fit. But Sarah didn't give up. She took on any job she could find, from waiting tables to working in retail, all the while networking and building connections in the business world. Finally, Sarah landed an entry-level position at a small marketing firm. She worked tirelessly, going above and beyond her job duties, and quickly moved up the ranks. But even with her success, Sarah still felt like she wasn't reaching her full potential. She knew she had bigger ideas and bigger plans, but she didn't know how to make them happen. That's when Sarah decided to start her own business. It was a daunting task, and many of her friends and family told her she was crazy for even considering it. But Sarah was determined. She spent every spare moment researching and planning, and finally, she had a solid business plan in place. The next mountain Sarah had to move was finding funding for her business. She applied for loans, but was denied again and again. Banks and investors didn't believe in her idea or her ability to run a successful business. But Sarah didn't let that stop her. She reached out to her network, and eventually, she found a group of investors who believed in her vision. With funding secured, Sarah was finally able to launch her business. It wasn't easy, and there were many times when she wanted to give up. But Sarah's determination and hard work paid off. Her business was a success, and it quickly grew into a thriving company. Years went by and Sarah's company had become one of the most successful in the industry. She had finally accomplished her dream and had moved all the mountains that stood in her way. But Sarah didn't rest on her laurels. She knew that there were always more mountains to move, and she was ready for whatever challenges came her way. Sarah's story is an inspiration to many, proving that with hard work, determination and a never give up attitude, anyone can move mountains and achieve their dreams.

To Biopage contest THE PURPLE BIKE By Penny Robichaux-Koontz As told to H L Ford I had just taken over a condemned property in Texas, a homeless shelter in a rural area, pitch-black at night except for the light from a lonely, passing train. I had 42 youngsters and 30 adults staying with me in our shelter and no money. The only ornaments for the tree were those I had collected for my own children over the years until this year, 1991. As we were putting the tree up, the children were grumbling. “Miss Penny, how is Santa ever gonna find us out here in the dark?” I encouraged them to sing carols loudly when we heard a knock at the door. There stood the jolly old elf himself, Santa, in full red velvet and white fur trim. The children's eyes widened. I could have heard a snowflake drop. Santa leaned over to whisper, “I'm on my way to a Christmas party and heard you may need a Santa tonight.” “Thanks,” I answered in grateful amazement. He took a seat and talked with the children. Then, laying a finger aside of his nose, up the chimney he did not go but left through the door leaving big smiles behind him. I was delighted; however, as they shared the excitement of Santa's visit, to my dismay, I learned each child had asked Santa for a bike. Suddenly, the magic was gone and the reality of needing 42 bicycles settled on me. “How Lord, will I ever get that many bikes when just getting enough food is stretching my faith?” Articles appeared in the local paper, and people began to visit our shelter. They brought sweatshirts, warm clothing, blankets, and supplies. The word about our needs spread throughout the community. And yes! The bikes also started coming. We stored them in the secret workshop, where we assembled the new bikes at night while the children slept. Christmas morning came and the paper and ribbon flew amid laughter, singing, and a few tears of joy. And oh, the bikes…bikes everywhere! Emotionally spent and tired from playing Santa's helper all night, I headed outdoors to go to my room when I heard a child running behind me, calling “Miss Penny, Miss Penny!" Cedric, a precious little five-year-old boy caught up, his cheeks streaked with tears. I got down on my knees. “Why are you crying, honey?” “Miss Penny, I didn't git me no bike!” Dismayed, I thought, how could we have been off by one bike?! Thinking quickly, I said, “Cedric, did you ask Jesus for a bike?” “No, Miss Penny. I asked Santa Claus.” “Well, that explains it,” I said. “Santa is only a one- Day-a-year wonder. But Jesus, He is our Gift from heaven and He is also our gift-giver, not just one time a year, but today and every day. He loves you and hears you when you pray. You know He is the reason we celebrate this day, so let's talk to Him." With that, Cedric made quite a noisy plea to Jesus for a purple bike someday soon. “Amen!” Struggling to get up off my knees, I saw a pickup truck coming up the dirt drive toward us. The driver pulled to a halt, throwing Texas dust all around. “Are you Miss Penny?” he asked, stepping out of the cab. “That's me,” I said, “Can I help you?” “I'm sorry to be so late. My wife and I planned to be here yesterday,” he said while lifting a bike out of the truck bed. He placed a purple two-wheeler on the drive right in front of Cedric, whose eyes widened with amazement. “Hope you can use a bike like this. Sorry, I was late,” he grinned. I never got the name of that man. A great woman of faith that I am, I stood there speechless as I watched God make Himself absolutely real to a very excited little boy. That moment is as fresh in my heart and mind today as it was that 1991 Christmas. I had only been out of the wheelchair a short time then and had wanted to say "thank you, Lord" for healing my body from the paralysis of childhood polio. From that moment I was on my way to faith adventures with thousands more children over the years who came and went from Jacob's House a home for children in need of rescue. Like little Cedric, I was also on my way to many more miracles as I watched these children grow. Penny Roubichaus-Koontz has now retired from ministering at Jacob's House, but she never tires of sharing her faith, her joy, and her stories of God's children.

If a man is to shed the light of the sun upon other men, he must first of all have it within himself. – Romain Rolland Because of a rare but serious illness, I had to stay home for nearly a year… In the half-dreaming, half-awake haze of my illness, I saw black and white architecture outlining a Chinese ink wash painting, rendered layer by layer. Loneliness and the fear of the future, at times hesitant, at times plaintive, but always restless inside of me, drove my mood into a deep trough. The days of recuperation in my hometown were more difficult to bear than the days in the hospital. Only my grandpa and his flute accompanied me throughout those miserable days. Every dawn, Grandpa sat near me, and the crisp sound of his flute woke me gradually from sleep like a silver bell. I rose slowly and pushed the wooden window open, letting the breeze of the wind gently stir his face. The leaves outside rustled in the wind, as if they were accompaniment for Grandpa's music. The golden line of the sun sprinkled through the morning fog, giving the cold body some warmth. Looking over, I saw that Grandpa's arms had opened like a soft, beautiful arc. His fingertips danced on the bamboo cylinder, and his lips nearly kissed the flute's opening. Instantly, the clear and robust notes sounded and filled every corner of the room. The melody expanded and collided with the surrounding eaves, rocks, flowers, and trees, reverberating and revealing its boldness. One day, I told Grandpa the confusion in my heart. “Shouldn't the music of the flute be melodious, soothing, and soft? Why can't I find the sweet tone in your music, instead of such a vigorous feeling?” Grandpa didn't answer. He just silently lifted the flute again, placed it on his lips. Breathed in, breathed out… The sun was already high. The sunlight pierced through the accumulated smog in the dawn like a sharp sword. I felt shrouded by a near holy light, from the deep soul of the inquiry. A gentle smile floated on the corner of Grandpa's mouth. He said quietly, “Beethoven once said that ‘music is the one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.' Different people playing the flute will use it to give different interpretations of life.” Then Grandpa shrugged; although he was in his 70s, he showed that the vicissitudes left by the erosion of time couldn't stop the breath of life in him. He said to me, “Grandpa wants you to know, how can there be no hardships in one's life? Plain sailing is just a wish. We must carry our load honorably before fate's final curtain.” Then, I remembered stories told and read about my grandpa. Back in the days of the cultural revolution, when he was in his twenties, he endured, bore, and withstood pain. He had attended Tsinghua University. Then, because the area was invaded by Japan, three schools (Peking University, Tsinghua University, and Nankai University) moved to Yunnan and became a combined school called Xi'an Union University. When Grandpa arrived, there was absolutely nothing of use. The students started constructing and building the classrooms themselves. For food, they were self-sufficient, and ate the food they grew. After finishing school, he joined the army, fought in campaigns, and participated in reform movements. Wars, turmoil, upheavals, crusades, disasters, revolutions, reformations… He had completely undergone that era. He suffered from but weathered the misery, tribulation and distress. If he hadn't, there wouldn't be my father and me, nor the peaceful dwellings for my family and the work sufficient to sustain us. He experienced the unrest and left us with the most glorious homeland. And how did he stand the agony? Just by the way he reacted to life. He always had rays of sunlight inside himself, and was willing to shed the light on others. I felt in my soul a deep stirring toward life. Maybe I could be more optimistic about my life and my future. Maybe the sound of Grandpa's flute had opened my mind and my heart. I thought back to the story of Beethoven, one of my heroes. In 1827, as the storm and lightning accompanied each other, Beethoven, at death's door, raised his dry arms and waved to the sky as a final struggle. The moment his life ended, it had an ultimate meaning: he didn't just wait for the Reaper's scythe to fall; he showed that the battle goes on as long as the heart is beating. In that moment of my reverie, the image of Beethoven's arm hitting the keyboard of the piano suddenly coincided with the sound of Grandpa's flute, and I realized that if you go through enough oceans and seas, you will never be afraid of streams and rivers. Grandpa's flute inspired me to keep going. To cease to struggle means you cease to live. Even when occasionally challenged by fate, keep in mind that the rays of the morning sun can break through the darkness; remember to say to Fate, “So what?”

Old man James sat in front of his porch as the sun caressed his harsh features. His face was relaxed- a rarity indeed, considering he always has a frown etched on his dark face. On Sunday afternoons like this, when all the folks were in church, he sat outside exuding a moment of serenity, like now. I almost gave in to the urge to take a picture commemorating oldman James's first smile in decades. Almost. Consequently, the chattering of people permeated the solemn atmosphere, effectively putting to death old man James' peaceful aura. Kickstarting his feet to life, he stood, grunted a good afternoon to me (much to my surprise since he'd effectively ignored me for the two and half hours I'd been staring at him- or maybe four hours, anyways-), he adjusted His brownish-whatever-coloured cap on his thinned hair and entered his salon before anyone could shout "Old man James". He doesn't look as old as his name implies, however, his never-smile-till-I-die demeanor added a decade to his 50ish self. On the flip side, not many could mess with old man James. I mean, his cold demeanor could give anyone a brain freeze. That, however, doesn't stop the people of Achimota from giving him names. A little payback for all the times he'd declined their festive dinner invitations, or their housewarming parties- which is everytime. So, behind closed doors, he's known as 'memuna' (always frowning), kakai (beast), James Debond (don't ask) among many other derogatory names- by kids and adults alike. I also didn't like him at first. Don't get me wrong but he is rude and scary. The last time, for instance, he'd sacked his client for crying too much and snotting in his shop. The client was two years old and it was raining heavily outside. Both mother and child would have been drenched if my mom hadn't let them in her shop. So yeah, Old man James has a terrible rep. However, hearing his life story from the town's Wikipedia, which is my mother, and writing it down, put things in perspective. Apparently, there was a time Old man James smiled. Believe it or not, he even laughed. Yep. Teeth and all. That was eleven years ago, before he lost his wife in a car accident. According to my mom, it broke him so bad he moved out of their town house in the estate-y side of Achimota, into his barber salon. It finally explains how he manages to keep up with his rent even though few people frequent his shop. Apparently, he's loaded. Anyways, sitting here side by side with Old man James' as he narrates his tragedy, in a voice with more than just coldness in it, will forever be one of my dearest moments in life. It's a shame you think I'd tell the most vulnerable parts of a person's life without said person's clarification. However, It's more shameful that no words can accurately describe the pain, longing, misery and regret running across his features. Apparently, 20th July, was his wife's eleventh year anniversary and he needed someone to talk to. Guess who played incompetent therapist to the melancholic old man James, this girl! For accuracy sake, let's ignore the "he needed someone to talk to" part. This is how the session began Me (suspiciously cheerful): Good morning Mr James Old man James (eyes narrowed in suspicion): *grunts* Me: How are you doing today Old man James: *less enthusiastic grunts* Me( still with a huge smile): Is it me or you sound...sad? As our elders say, happiness is the uhm... antidote for the uhm.. .heart but sadness...sadness is veeery bad, like terrible, you- Old man James (with a heavy sigh and wistful voice): I see your mother told you.. Me (with a heavily dumbfounded face because that's the longest sentence Old man James has ever said to me): Uhh

In this time of stress and laziness I want to deliver inspiration through this short story of mine to all those young students who are determined to put their minds to work to unravel the mysteries of the Universe around them. If an archaeologist spends his entire life studying a piece of land, he studies every piece of rock on it, and he does this with such dedication that he leaves all of the luxuries of life for it, his family, his friends, even his favorite food, just for the sake of scientific inquiry, to increase human knowledge, to fill the missing gaps in our understanding of our universe around us. And in doing so he losses 60 years of his life, and by the end of his career he discovers nothing! Nothing of any significance, every rock he has flipped tells him nothing, the decades he spends reading, writing, contemplating, leads to nothing. If this was the case for any other profession, his career would be considered a failed one. But not for him, he is a scientist! He has provided the most valuable service to the society of all. His work will build the foundation for a younger generation, they will not spend years trying to collect data he has already provided, nor try to prove or disprove something his work has already established rather they will venture forward into more uncertain areas of work. The same is true for every scientist in every field of work. Because “A SCIENTIST WORK NEVER GOES TO WASTE”, it either proofs something or proofs something. And that's meaningful to me, this makes me fearless of failure.