I became inspired at Signal Hill Park. This park was named for the Native-Americans who lived in early Long Beach. They sent smoke signals from way up high because it was a mountain surrounded by flat land. Tribes all over the Los Angeles Basin could see it. It is still stunning today. You can see the downtown skyline in the distance and the blue Pacific ocean right in front of you, with freighters from coming from all over the world.
The city paid tribute to the early settlers. They devoted to it to cultures whose labor built the city, oil riggers, cowboys, women. The concrete has poetry etched into it in tribute to the workers whose vision built the city.
In this park, I laid on my back and watched the sky streaking white against the pale blue. I noticed dandelions growing tall amongst the grass. I watched children happily playing. I saw dogs on leashes, happy too, to be out and free, their noses smelling a wonderful world of sensations.
I watched an elderly woman with beautiful white hair. From a bench, she was enjoying her view of the ocean, glittering below. This park is where I came to write the outline of my book. And somehow, it materialized into a full book out there in the world, inspiring others. Writing is a beautiful thing. If you do just a little bit every day, it will magically become a book.
If you ever find yourself needing inspiration, go to a mountaintop. The mountain-top view will spark new ideas, as they have to so many people. Simply go outside and notice. The world truly is full of wonder, if only we slow down and notice it. Outside lies magic.