Sometimes those Italian-English cognates can be tricky. Inspiration/ispirazione are so similar that I almost was blind to the absent “n” in the Italian version.
Inspire. It’s from Latin origin, inspirare, which means “breathe life into.” I just love that.
I have so many dreams swirling in my heart and mind, waiting to take their first breath. Timing is everything in the process of being born. I assume that is true for babies or for dreams, except with dreams there isn’t always a physical reassurance that it is indeed happening.
I prefer the Italian, dare alla luce, which means “give to the light” (or so I heard in Under the Tuscan Sun). Can I please have my baby in Italy? Dare all a luce sounds so much more poetic than being born.
I took my sweet time being born, so much so that the nurses joked with my parents that I should be called “Patience.” How ironic that patience is not my strong suit! Sometimes it’s as if I were a two-year old gardener, getting anxious for my seeds to blossom that I pluck them right out of the earth the first time a green sprout goes looking for the sun.
Now I know better than to go picking seedlings before they’re ready, so I’m going to do the adult thing and inspire my dreams — that is breathe words of life into them, encourage them. I will hold my precious dreams lovingly in my heart until they are ready for the light. After all, the light is seeking my dreams, too.