Sources of Inspiration

Ralph Waldo Emerson

1. Sleep is one, mainly by the sound health it produces; incidentally also, & rarely, into whose farrago a divine lesson is sometimes slipped.
2. Solitary converse with nature is a second (or perhaps the first) and there are ejaculated sweet & dreadful words never uttered in libraries. Ah the spring days, summer dawns & October woods. 
3. New poetry; what is new to me ..
4. Conversation...   -- Emerson in His Journals  (Jan, 1862)

The same fountains still do and will continue to inspire humanity far into the infinite future. 

Confluence of Influences

At times I step back and look at the world we live in with a feeling of awe. People from different nationalities, cultures and religions are able to mix and mingle and live in harmony. With this openness comes the free sharing of knowledge, cuisines, music, beauty, art, craft and sport.

One look at all the teachers enriching my young son's life is enough to fill me with gratitude. From his Armenian violin teacher, Canadian school teacher, Italian soccer coaches to his Indian dance teacher. Each one of them will leave their imprint on the young lives they touch molding them into citizens of an open, free and inclusive world. 

"You are the sum total of everything you've ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot - it's all there. Everything influences each of us, and because of that I try to make sure that my experiences are positive." - Maya Angelou

Ah Missy, Freedom's sweet

I am reading Ralph Waldo Emerson's journal Emerson in His Journals. The sweetness of freedom is captured in this short journal entry and goes to show that a life without freedom is no life at all.

Lidian's grandmother had a slave Phillis whom she freed. Phillis went to the little colony on the outside of Plymouth which these called New Guinea. Soon after, she visited her old mistress. "Well, Phillis, what did  you have for dinner on Thanksgiving Day?" "Fried 'taturs, Missy;" replied Phillis. "And what had you to fry the potatoes in?" said Mrs Cotton. "Fried in Water, Missy;" answered the girl. "Well Phillis," said Mrs Cotton, "how can you bear to live up there, so poor, where here you used to have every thing comfortable, & such good dinner at Thanksgiving?" --"Ah Missy, Freedom's sweet." returned Phillis 

The angst from the loss of freedom is exquisitely portrayed by poets Maya Angelou in I know why the caged bird sings and Tagore in this poem from The Gardener

The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit perched in the sky."

 The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands."
 The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned."
 The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
 The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands."

 Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
 Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
 They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my love!"
 The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage."
 The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."