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.

Edit: I've removed this piece for submission elsewhere. Congrats to the winners!

I have chosen the specific title for my text today, following my thoughts on a philosophical matter i kept in mind, which i would like to share. As we are born free human beings in life and we feel that no one has the right to interfere to our affairs or personal life or thoughts and beliefs, we need to be ourselves. Aren't we? Then why do people adopt other people's opinions or agree with them, with such easiness, just to be liked by them or gain their confidence? Do they feel being themselves when they act in "hypocrisy?" Don't they see the fact that they are sacrificing themselves and their ideals? Isnt it a better sacrifice to be yourself? Do you need so much other's approval?

-last night i had a dream. -..... -i dreamed i was a butterfly. -..... -nothing. I stood still... -...... -the window opened... -..... -freedom!

A rainy night in an isolated place… only one tree and the rest was simply smooth. You were laying down and drawing, admiring the view as if you were in heaven, while I was escaping from an woe I was hoping to be soon forgotten. You did not let me suffer alone, you did not leave and neither did you push me away. Instead of doing so… you made me relax. So I just sat down under the tree, on the soft grass… and that was it. I was wondering if youn realised how many relationships begin like this... How many couples end up living happily together ever after? How many relationships have every children's storyies' ending and to which every girl dreams of? So many questions to be asked and yet one single answer: Nobody knows. Nobody will ever know, but deep down we all know that… no too many. Perfection is not real… it will never be, but human beings can not survive without aspirations, dreams and hopes… but eventually... everyone will come to their senses and see how real the world tastes like. I was aware that I had to study for the exam that was coming up,but I decided to spend hours in the rain, under a tree, talking with a boy I had never met before.. It felt like I had known him ever since the beginning of our existence, like we had been friends forever and like we knew everything about each other. I consider love to be an unknown feeling, impossible to be understood. The feeling that can bring happiness and sadness, pleasure and pain, clarity and confusion. The feeling you long for at all times, and yet never. But have you ever stopped to think about what you believe love truly means? To think about your own opinion? To think about it deeply, profoundly? Not many people do that because they have the vague idea that they do know even though they had never met that special person they would truly love… that person they would appreciate like a true friend.. and love like a family member? I was one of those people.. I have dreams with a person I admire,but haven't even had my first kiss… I write about love, but I do not have any experience… But curiosity took over and brought me to this point… we live with a burning wish to find that ‘perfect' person, our ‘soulmate', with whom to spend the time we have left until death would separate and reunite us in an unknown realm, a parallel universe without any agony and woe. I like reading, I've seen movies, I have imagination and I like thinking.. meaning I just ended up with the question: What is love?

Windows Charcoal & Chalk 2019 - I am currently creating artwork using charcoal and white chalk. The two mediums have become a favorite combination of mine to create illustrations with. Both the black charcoal and white chalk upon beige paper nicely complement and contrast with one another. The lack of color does not detract but adds intensity to the finished artwork. My portfolio can be viewed at https://journeymandesigns.artstation.com/

The Two of Us Charcoal & Chalk 2019 - I am currently creating artwork using charcoal and white chalk. The two mediums have become a favorite combination of mine to create illustrations with. Both the black charcoal and white chalk upon beige paper nicely complement and contrast with one another. The lack of color does not detract but adds intensity to the finished artwork. My portfolio can be viewed at https://journeymandesigns.artstation.com/

People who tend to sit near a window are physiologically in the midst of escaping something. That is what my history teacher told us on the first day of class. I have thought about escaping the world more times than one, but that day I was ready for everything to end. I walk into school with the intentions of having a good day, but something always goes wrong. It's girl drama, but it becomes so bad that it makes me question what I have become and why I even suffer through it. Today, I wanted it to be over. I walked into the crowded school cafeteria to join my friends, but none of them were relieved when I showed up. It wasn't that I had done anything either, it's just that I was guilty by association. Because I had spoken to a girl, they all hated me. Why? Because my “friends” are petty. The summer was refreshing. I spent two months away from the lies, rumours, and opinions that were spread around the friend group. Then school started. That first day back was even worse than I thought. Sure, I may have looked the part, but my head was spinning. By the time I had gotten to the second half of the day, I had already considered all of my alternate options. None of them would have saved me from the public high school drama. Except for one. Of course the word scares me, but I needed a way out of the thoughts that consumed me. I was scared, but I had considered it. I hate that about myself, but I thought about ending all of my pain and suffering. Except I had sat on the complete opposite side of the window, thinking nothing of it. I knew that it was not the time to end my story. I still thought about it everyday though. Especially today. It seems irrelevant, but I thought about ending it after I got home. But I couldn't do that to the people who loved me. And I couldn't give that satisfaction to the people that didn't. What would it be like without me? Would anybody care? I mean it seems like all that people really pretend to care about are the people that show their “emotions”. It seems to be that people just try to destroy others' lives. And that's exactly what they had done to me. I wanted to escape to another world, one where I would not have to put on a smile so people didn't call me dramatic or sensitive. I wanted to escape to where I wouldn't have to suffer both at school and at home, or hate myself every second I was alive. There isn't an escape though. I wish that I could talk to somebody about how I feel about everything. But my mom just yells at me, vand my guidance counselor thinks I am perfect. I wish I didn't feel like crying everyday I come home from school. I wish listening to depressing music wasn't a way to disguise the pain to everybody else. I am not weak. Except I am. Behind closed doors I cry myself to sleep. Behind closed doors, I try anything and everything to make it all okay. But I am an honors student, with straight A's, holding the one piece of my life accessible under the best control I can possibly manage. But what is an education without a functioning human to stand behind the letters? It's pretty obvious I am not happy with my current life situation. But there's nothing to do about it. I guess there's only three more years of this until I can escape into a whole new world of college. But I am not sure if I can wait for that long. I have thought about giving up, so what's gonna stop me if I actually do? Cause according to everybody, I am perfect and as happy as a clam. Would I still be here if i weren't for the one thing holding me here? Honestly, probably not. I suffer for my best friend. I hold all the pain in for my best friend. I am strong for my best friend. Because I can't ruin her life like that. She is everything to me, and she makes it all okay. At least for a moment.

The pen and a writing pad in the hands of a knowledgeable soul has the ability to transform many years of continued moral decadence and bring to the spotlight,different ways of achieving set out moral,economic,social and financial aims. Hey,it's mightier that which cuts out ignorance, destroys hate and replaces it with love. Hope to one,Hope to all!!!

New Blog post You can use many things that happen to you or you observe to spruce up your novel. http://www.universalchaospaladin.com/using-life-events-as-parts-of-stories/

Most stories about people's lives are only ever small segments of them as a whole. We will never really know the completeness of a person, nor will we really know our own selves. We do not remember every moment of our lives, or at least it has been proven nearly impossible to do so without the use of outside stimulants. This is very much like our understanding of all that is reality. We are constantly searching, growing, creating and reshaping in this world as the world itself is. It never stops. Even after we die, our bodies change and become one with the earth. We are still creating new life after death. Sure there are periods of rest, but never true finality. It is unfathomable for us to comprehend a cease of existence, and so we question and wonder. Even in the Bible God states in Genesis that His work was “good” but not perfect or finished. God is constantly creating us and wants us to create with Him. I believe that even without truly being able to know each other completely, we can try through interpreting each others actions. Communication through words and action are powerful tools. We learn to work together despite differences, and learn to create unique items through difference. Diversity makes room for growth. And growth is part of creation.

Writing has always come easily to me. That isn't to say that my writing is anything special, only that when it comes to sitting down and putting a bunch of words together I think I'm pretty dang alright at it. I've met people that say they have such a hard time writing but it's difficult for me to understand that. Those same people always try to attribute my lack of understanding on the matter to my education (I have a degree in English) but the truth to that is I wouldn't have pursued a degree in this subject if I wasn't already good at it. I'm being 100% honest – being pro-active is not my strong suit. If it comes between making a decision of taking the “easy” route or the “hard (but, in the long run, more beneficial because it teaches you about hard work, perseverance and blah blah blah)” route I'm not going to think too long on which one I'd prefer to take. Essays in college were a breeze, although I'm still sometimes shocked at the quality of work I was able to produce under the circumstances I put myself in. Example: its 8pm the night before my 16 page essay on [insert some literary debate here] is due. I have yet to open a word document. Sure, I've put some thought into what I want to write. That's the hardest part, right? Sitting down and putting all my thoughts into words in one cohesive structure just came so easily to me. I think it has something to do with the amount of privacy you have while writing. No one is listening to you stumble through your words or hearing your attempts at constructing a well worded sentence. You have complete privacy to say what you're thinking. You have the ability to rewrite and reorganize your words. You can take a minute to think on exactly which word best articulates the thought you are trying to express and, if you don't like it, can decide to change it later. You can't do that when you're talking. Well, I suppose you could but it would be weird. This brings me to my road bump when it comes to writing – who will be reading my words? Because, like I said, I consider writing very private. Concern of who will read my writing once I'm finished is a huge deal to me. With college essays it didn't matter much because I knew the person reading my essay would be someone educated on the subject I had written about and would be judging my words based on my display of knowledge on the subject. That isn't too intimidating because it's not creative writing. It's not something that would unveil ideas and thoughts that completely originated in my mind. I once took a Science Fiction class in college and for the final we had to write a creative sci-fi short story. That terrified me. Completely and utterly terrified me. I couldn't hide behind facts and information that were accessible to everyone on a subject that has been widely discussed for years. These would be words and thoughts that were 100% my own. Had this not been an assignment and I was writing something for myself that I could decide who, if anyone, could read it I think I would have enjoyed writing it much more. Once the story was done I began second guessing all of my ideas. Is that really original or am I completely ripping something off? Is this plot even believable? Does it make sense at all? Those were my road bumps. The actual process of writing the story came effortlessly – thoughts into words. Easy. Having to deal with my thoughts on them afterwards – yikes. Turns out my instructor thought it was great and so did the select few I shared it with. They all told me I had a “gift” and should be very proud. This made me feel uncomfortable. Receiving praise for something that came so easily to me didn't seem merited or earned. I truly felt as though I made no effort. I've always sort of blushed when people make comments like these and brush them off faster than they can be laid on me. Only recently have I decided to try to embrace this “talent” I have and attempt to open myself up to the possibilities it may grant me. The catalyst for this change of thought occurred yesterday when someone told me how talented and gifted I was after reading a cover letter I wrote for a job. A cover letter. A simple, short, nothing-special piece of writing that I was trying to use to convince someone to hire me. I finally decided that I should try to start sharing my writing with people. So here I was with this brave (ha) new confidence. I went online to see where I could put this bravery to the test. The first think I came across was Biopage, and they were asking for people to submit writing on the subject of… anything they wanted. Well shoot, if there's anything else further from a prompt I don't know what it is. This project called for me to come up with something 100% on my own for others to read and it was perfect. So here I am. I sat down and just started writing. I figured talking about why I was here was as good as anything else I could come up with. So now I'm ready to get my ideas out there, terrified as I may be.

The bare bones of writing comes down to expressing a thought, idea, or feeling. We use it to communicate with others, as a way to convey a message we find important or personal. The bare bones doesn't care about brilliance, complexity, mistakes, or your chosen medium (pen and paper, anyone?). It's significant in only having written your word or words of choice, and the rest—be it a masterpiece, or just a grocery list—is up to you. When I was a teenager, the act of writing was a way to release, and to entertain myself. I wrote stories with characters that accurately, if not dramatically, conveyed the emotions that I had a hard time expressing in my adolescence. The themes crossed paths with things I experienced, and things that I anticipated to experience. It was my world, glittering and bright, even through the dark themes and circumstances that were written. While I didn't know it at the time, it was an important self-reflection through elaborate plot lines and quirky characters. It didn't matter that it wasn't what I had deemed publish-worthy. All that mattered was that I conveyed my feelings, and sometimes shared them with others—and with that, catharsis. I stopped writing like that years ago. These days, writing has become something of a chore. The pressures I put upon myself to just write something good, or even better than good, made my joy burn out like a candle wick. I put writing on hold while my life unraveled into the milestone of young adulthood. Through it all, I'm certain that my life would have a clearer direction, and my soul a happier glow, had I written... anything. No matter what though, I couldn't bring myself to do it, even if it were simply “Today sucked.” The desire to create was burning in my veins, but my self doubt riddled me with a hate plague I couldn't shake. Taking a look back, I knew I yearned simply for life experience. I wanted to experience without reflection, even if that took me through a lot of impulsive choices that I regret now. It also took work to sit down, focus, and write. Now, with the desire to be heard, to be seen as articulate, and with something to offer, I still struggle. The fear of a page written with utter garbage is a greater fear than of an empty one. And I want to change that—even if the page is merely filled with one word, I'll know I've put forth an effort to say something. In today's world, where everyone puts out their best image, their best work, and the edited, filtered versions of themselves—I vow to allow myself to be raw, messy, mediocre, and riddled with mistakes. To speak what's on my mind, to dare to create, to do. It's now my time for honesty, even if it masquerades as a poem, a crime drama screenplay, an essay, or an account of my day. The bare bones are all that matter, and even if to no avail, it all ends up in a graveyard—then, at least for a moment, they lived.