The Ripple of Inspiration

Everyone finds inspiration from different places. My hope is that many of you will find inspiration in the people you meet and the experience you have during an 8 Minute Ripple. The rippling is actually only part of it....it's the connection after the events that make the most impact...at least for me. I suspect for you as well. One such ripple is an online connection I made that continues to ripple for me despite not ever meeting this individual.

This connection is a passionate gentleman from up North that is making a nice living speaking and presenting on the concepts of the 'ripple.' His name is Paul Wesselmann with The Ripple Project. Paul sends out an inspirational newsletter you should check out as well as a conversational forum that has been fun to read and now write in.

Recently he started a thread about what body of water stirs you. I felt compelled to share it with you, my friends, as it gives you just a glimpse of my inspiration and where I feel (or felt) most grounded. The post is as follows:

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There was this little stream that ran through the Jemez mountains (1.5 hours NW of Albuquerque) where my dad and I used to fish. It is without question, my most favorite place on Earth.

It was the perfect little winding stream that stood at the base of an amazing mountain range. In the early morning, we would shiver with cold waiting, no, begging for the sun to hurry up and finally escape the tops of the mountain range and warm our wet feet which had been soaked on the small hike from the road to the beautiful little stream. When the sun came down, it was like the world was born anew and all was right in the world.

The trickle of water as it causually poured through the grassy landscape made just enough bubbly noise to make you feel alive. The wind in the trees reminded me with each rushing whoosh that they were the stewards of the land and they remained ever watchful of this little place I called paradise. Watching and waiting each year until my dad, who was and is still my best friend, returned each year.

I moved away in 1991 and sometime after that, Dad and I journeyed to our sanctuary on one of my return trips home. We discovered that the road leading to this desolate little place was no longer open and to this day, we have not discovered why. We just know our little piece of watery paradise now sits, alone and likely empty. A standing testament to the wonderful memories Dad and shared.

The trees in my mind often remind me that they are still there, watching, waiting and protecting my little paradise...somehow hoping we will return some day.

Whenever I need to return to what is really important in life, I return, although only in spirit, to that little perfect stream. I drop my line into it's cold cold water and wait for that tug. It refreshes me to this day and the bubbles and the whoosh of the wind are the only sounds that really warm my heart.

Thanks for making me think of this today Paul!

Ripple On!

Steve Harper