Author: Savannah Phelps

“Power isn’t control at all–power is strength and giving that strength to others. A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger; a leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to stand on their own.” Beth Revis

I have always been called a “leader” and accepted it. I never really thought anything of it. It was a compliment; I knew that, and I would go around and tell people that I was one but could never explain why or how. I took the title without even knowing what was in the job description.

As I got older, I began to understand a little more. A leader helped people. A leader got others to do things they normally wouldn’t do. There are good leaders and bad leaders.  Growing up, I went from considering Superman the best leader in the world, to President Obama. I evolved, as did my understanding of the topic.

It wasn’t until high school that I really realized what leaders were. You don’t have to be famous or rule over a large group of people to be a leader. You can be a leader just through encouraging others, and by being an example to follow. As a leader, you don’t want a people to follow you; you want people to look at you while you are being kind or doing something productive and go off and do it themselves, not because you did it, but because it is the right thing to do.

Leadership is not about control; it’s about influence and inspiration. You don’t have to be this larger-than-life character to be a leader. You can just as easily be the girl who raises her hand before speaking or says yes ma’am and no sir. You can be the one who tells your friend “Hey, you’ve been drinking. Don’t get in the car.” Being a leader means caring about others and doing things to protect them or make sure they’re okay.

One time, a teacher told me that you must follow before you lead. This is a very true and important statement. In order to be a leader, you have to pick up on the needed characteristics of another leader. You must watch, listen, and be inspired by someone else. The way I see it, you cannot be a natural-born leader. Being a leader is something you get genetically. You have to work at it. You have to learn the art of it. Another thing that teacher told me was that some people are perfectly happy being followers, and that is quite alright. Leading isn’t for everyone. Some people don’t want to handle such responsibilities, but I feel that everyone has the potential to lead. Some just prefer not to.

Leaders are very important. Many of us rely on leadership in rough times, especially within teams. There needs to be one person who can consider every opinion, make a decision, and make sure everyone is on the same page. Without leaders, there is chaos. Society would be completely dilapidated without them. I mean, really think about it. If the world was just a bunch of indecisive, naive followers then nothing would ever get done. The world would be bare. We wouldn’t have any technology, shelters, even farms needed leaders. Someone needs to call the shots.

Now, as I previously mentioned, there are good leaders and bad leaders. Hitler, for instance, was manipulative and a liar. Martin Luther King Jr. wasn’t perfect, but he stood up for a good cause. He inspired people and was honest with the people he led. He did not stand for the harm of others. He showed kindness, respect, and good qualities of leadership. Gandhi had a lot of the same ideals. Good leaders want what is best for everyone, not just what is best for them.

I have been called a leader for most of my life, and now that I fully understand the concept, I am proud to be considered as such. I try my best each day to present myself with the qualities that describe leadership because I truly believe that without leadership, good leadership at that, there would be no prospering. I’m glad to say that I help the world prosper.

My folks and I have finally decided to sell the old trailer my mom and I lived in after my great grandmother. We have mainly been using it for storage up until this point, but we have began to sort through all of the items in the house. I found many things of mine that I had forgotten all about, including my old friend’s obituary, and it really made me feel nostalgic.

Last week it had made a year since my great grandmother’s passing, and it hit my family pretty hard. It really hit me while I was diving through the piles of randomness amidst the house. I found this old box with a safe lock on it, and inside was a load of jewelry making stuff. There were beads galore, and some bendy wires of all sorts of colors, it was all very much like Granny, but I also found this rubber-band wonder-loom bracelet I had made her when I was younger. It broke my heart to know that she had kept it all this time.

I guess it was irony that we decided to go through everything at that particular time, but I found a lot of things that I didn’t even know were in that house despite having lived in it for a good four or five years. I found box full of hats, and this really old Pinnochio spoon. I found books that I had sworn I had lost. There were boxes of photographs and albums. It was honestly very calming going through everything, and my best friend was there, so I got to explain a lot of the history of my family to her. It all left me feeling warm inside.

That night, when I went back to my house, I made my grandma a bracelet out of the charms and beads left in her mother’s box. I used green as the base because that is her favorite color, and cross charms to remind her of granny’s faith. I think she really appreciated it. I know she misses granny a lot, and I do too. I hope that the bracelet gives my grandma a little peace. I know I got a lot a peace by making it. Looking back on my granny, after a year of her being gone, I’m not really sad anymore. I will always miss her, but I know she would be proud of me and that wherever she is,  she’s happy.

Sometimes, I look back and remember what it was like to be a child. First crushes, first time holding hands because I thought I was old enough to be in a relationship, first best friend, first favorite and least favorite teacher. This was the time to figure what subjects I enjoyed the most, and I started showing my parents how to write my name because I wasn’t old enough to understand that they already knew how to spell my name. It took me until fourth grade to learn my middle name. I was smart, but I could never figure out the small  things. That hasn’t changed.

I really miss those days. They were so simple. Homework took fifteen minutes, the worst a guy could do to you was wipe his snot on your favorite jacket. College was just a word, not yet your future, and all you wanted to do was grow up. I’ve been in a nostalgic rut. I’m always thinking about what could have been if my childhood would have played out differently. If I chose different friends. If I didn’t take things so seriously. If I didn’t carry my heart on my sleeve. I wonder who I would be if I didn’t throw that third place pageant trophy out the window, or If I got back on that horse after it threw me off. It makes me sad, not knowing. What if my firsts weren’t my firsts. What if I had loved different people. What if that strawberry blonde friend of mine didn’t leave.

The important thing is though, and I am coming to realize this, I can take these “what ifs” and use them as inspiration, but I cannot mourn something that never happened. it is important to appreciate, amongst the questions, the facts. The childhood that I had was beautiful, and it made me who I am. I am beautiful, strong, intelligent, and talented. Yeah, I could possibly be a cowgirl or a pageant queen. There are an infinite amount of maybes out there, but I deeply love who I am, and I’m pretty proud that all my choices made me a writer.

 

There comes a time when you just have to sit down and breathe. You have to look yourself in the mirror and accept that your life is not perfect. Sometimes you are going to feel alone, and other times you will wish you were alone. Sometimes a sad song will come on the radio and you will be forced to feel everything you have been suffocating inside. You’ll get into an argument with your boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, or your parents. You’ll want to run away. Sometimes you will have no where to go because the pain is everywhere. You will try to talk to your dead friends and imagine what they’d say, but it will never come out right. You will swear up and down that you’re losing your mind. Sit down. Breathe.

There comes a time when you have stop thinking and dance. Forget about the exams for a moment. Forget about the future. Forget about the minute before when you were screaming into the phone. Crank your playlist up and dance. Stop wondering if it’s going to work out. Stop concerning yourself with whether or not your going to make friends. Stop crying. Don’t worry about the people who laughed at you when you tripped down the stairs or over a tree root. Stop trying to be perfect because that doesn’t exist. Live in the moment. Stop thinking. Dance.

There comes a time when you have to laugh at yourself. Instead of freaking out about when you embarrassed yourself the first day of school, or when your mom spilled coffee on that really cool guy with the beanie, just laugh. Stop covering your face in shame every time you speak and don’t make any sense. You’re awkward, so what? Find the humor in who you are instead of the faults. Remember that time you cried in class over an assignment? You are so dramatic, but that’s okay. Laugh at it. Laugh at the time you sneezed on your boyfriend and the time you were obsessing over some actor that you can’t even remember the name of. Laugh about how you and your roommates argued over a light, and how you still can’t remember how to get to your own house. Replace the tears with a smile. Don’t judge yourself. Laugh at yourself.

For once in your life, find the joy around you. Look at your little cousins and feel the warmth in your belly. Walk with your best friend and talk about nothing and everything at the same time. Listen to her sing all the time, even when it gets annoying. Poke fun at your siblings; make them laugh. Gossip with your closest cousin, and tell each other secrets. Talk to your mom about all your problems, even when you’re mad at her. Lay in bed with the one you love, and don’t say anything. Hold his hand when he drives you home. Kiss him under the stars. Be happy. Stop stressing. Sit down, breathe, stop thinking, dance, laugh, be you. Find the beauty in your life an hold on to it. Most of all, never forget, you will get through it.

The first sign is in my hands, their shaking is the warning before it all starts, then the trembling explodes into every part of me. It feels like an earthquake in my soul. I can feel all my cities breaking and collapsing in my chest. Then, I lose control. You know how when an impact is so severe, one tends to lose consciousness? I guess this is kind of like that. The impact of the disaster going on inside me takes away my sense of being, leaving my body flailing for some control. My thoughts race faster than the speed of light, which leaves a blackhole in my mind. Nothingness. Blackness. I’m so cold, but I can’t feel anything. I hope death isn’t as blank.

Once I begin to hear a voice, I cling to that voice like a rope that is going to pull me out of this infinite emptiness. That voice then becomes my lifeline, and I get terrified when I don’t hear it anymore. I’m floating somewhere between nothing and everything, and I am trying to pull myself out but have nothing to grab onto until I hear that voice again or another voice that will bring me home. I climb until my body begins to vibrate.

It’s the best and most terrible feeling when my body regains control. I finally know that I’m alive, but I am welcomed back to Earth with a million knives digging into my nerves and my brain trying to break out of my skull. My vocal cords slowly wake from paralysis, and I want to cry out but can’t. I can feel the nails being hammered into my heart as my cities rebuild, and the child within me cries. The first willing twitch is almost scream-worthy, but I hold myself together as much as I can with a terrorized core. My first words are fingernails scratching my chalk-board throat, but once they are out, saliva begins to pour from my glands. Opening my eyes is like falling. There is nothing to focus on until my entire body makes landfall.

The last things to come back are my emotions, and that sometimes takes hours, maybe even days. My body is awake, but I am numb.  There is nothing left in me to cry or get angry, I can’t even fake a smile because I don’t care. There is absolutely no life to my feelings, and there is something so poetic about that. When they do come back, it’s almost like rain. It begins with a little trickle, a warning, and then a moderate pour. I have learned not to fight the flood, but to float in it. It washes me of the pain, though only temporary. It gives me peace.

After all has recovered, I continue on with my life. I try to fight stress off like a hive of wasps, but there will always be another. I wait. I wait for the earthquake to unleash. I wait for my shaking hands.

He kisses me in the front seat of his 2002 Mustang, doors wide open, cold air blowing into the space between us. The lamp post above us flickers, and for a split second, it feels like we are slipping into the sky and becoming one with the universe. His calloused fingers slide against my cheek, and my body leans farther over the console. My arm slips, bringing us back to Earth in a fit of dazed laughter. I can hear the television inside my house, the frogs and crickets gathering around the pond for their midnight battle, and his breathing. I can never figure out why I am so entranced by his breathing. Perhaps it’s because it tells me exactly what he is feeling, or maybe it’s just the certainty it gives me that he is alive and real. It makes me feel safe, almost as if his lungs were my home.

For a while, we watch our words float in the air like smoke, every senseless syllable freezing in time. We discuss the possibilities, and the dream of escaping this old, sleepy town. We laugh about our friends who will never understand what it’s like to have the world under their feet and on their shoulders at the same time. I’m sure that if the doors were shut, we would drown ourselves in wonder and hope. Instead, we unleash all our wishes to the world and pray we will come across them again one day.

We lock eyes, smiles stretching across our faces. He motions me out the car, and he steps out as well. I look up at the dancing stars, and their light seeps into my flesh despite being lightyears away. His hand glides onto my side, turning me to face him, and he pulls me in. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck. His close around my waist, and we sway to the silent love song that is our breaths. We twirl to the battle cries of insects and amphibians. We kiss to faint static, electricity exploding in our cores. In this very moment, we forget about dreams, hopes, wishes, and wonders. There is no longer a past to run from, or a future to run to. There is only us, standing on the edge of the universe, all its energy radiating in our souls. At this moment, we cease to be trivial specks in the world. No, for a frozen glimpse in time we are the world.

Watching, waiting for the stars

I wish to see them align just once

Play me out a path to follow

Give me direction to my fate

Dance for me, distract the mind

Give me life, or let me die

 

If I were to have to die

I dream of hypnotizing with the stars

To become a part of the universal mind

I do not believe in death just once

I want a thousand times with fate

A million choices to follow

 

I wonder what choices I must follow

To a thousand times die

How it might feel to converse with fate

Ask them if I can join the stars

Even if it is only just once

That would give me peace of mind

 

Is it even possible to have peace of mind?

Conflicted with what choices to follow

I only get to make that millionth choice once

Then there is the question: will I ever die?

What will I become after I join the stars?

Things to ask might I converse with fate

 

Sometimes I think I can hear fate

Or perhaps it is not but my mischievous mind

But I swear they let me feel the stars

Whispering what choice to follow

Foreshadowing how I will next die

I would like to know the truth for once

 

I did not believe once

The possibility of fate

But then I began to see the universe die

The thoughts melted into my mind

Now I am careful what choices I follow

I pray for the gift of the life and death of the stars

 

If fate presents with the choice to die

That choice my mind will follow

I will then hope that they will once choose the stars.

I have always been fascinated by Stephen Hawking. I may not be a science buff, but his thoughts have really made me consider the concept of time. I remember the first time I watched The Theory of Everything. I was in junior high, and I was trying make connections to what I actually believed about life. The movie, which is Stephen Hawking’s life story, left me gasping for breath. The man, his family, and everything they went through is truly remarkable. That movie was honestly the beginning of the formation for my current thought process.

This weekend, I watched it again. I had searched and recorded it a few weeks ago when I was thinking about Hawking and his death, which happened in March of this year. Watching it this time was an entirely new experience. I am older now, so I could better understand it all this time.

You see, it is not just his thoughts that leave me awed. Quite honestly, I don’t understand a good bit of it. I’m not a physicist after all. What is so phenomenal to me is that he was diagnosed with ALS when he was twenty-one. He was expected to die with two years. He didn’t. No, instead he got married and had children. Instead of dying, he gave life to a theory, and then he disproved it. Instead of dying at the age of 23, he died at the age of 76, having lived life to the best of his ability. He met the Queen. He denied knighthood. No, his life wasn’t easy. He lost the ability to voluntarily move a single muscle, but he didn’t stop. He took the concept of time and ran with it. He spent his entire adult life trying to prove the beginning of time and put it all into an equation. He was exceptional.

This man inspires me beyond anything. I read about him, and I feel as if I can do anything as long as I have the ambition to do it. Stephen Hawking gives me hope. He and I may have nothing in common, but I can only dream of being as strong Hawking. I will hold his story with me through every trial, and I will remember that he lived. If he could live, if he could keep going, then so can I.

I recommend watching The Theory of Everything. It will truly change the way you see life.

This is for

every moment I held your hand

whether it be in the literal sense

or the figurative

 

This is for

the dancing I made you do

that you loved

but never admitted

 

This is for

every smile, laugh, and kiss we shared

all the truths I whispered to you

that you never believed

 

This is for

our lives before each other

and the tales we shared

trusting someone for the first time

 

This is for

our youth

the story of first loves

the passion that bubbled beneath our young flesh

 

This is for

the dreams we shared

the plans we had

the promises we made

 

This is for

the scars and the tears

that still stain our skin

that we hate but never want to lose

 

This is for

your options

that you explored

Leaving me to await your return

 

This is for

me tearing you down

for letting me down

and leaving us both in tears

 

This is for

The confidence that we grew

and destroyed

which we needed, but could not hold on to

 

This is f0r

the feelings that we did not understand

but pretended to

as they began to consume us

 

This is for

last kisses on an old couch

but not knowing how final

it really was this time

 

This is for

the words we screamed

but did not mean

the pain I felt when you left… again

 

This is for

begging you

to come back

until the day came I no longer wanted that

 

This is for

the years that were not wasted

but encompassed with so much

loving betrayal

 

This is for

trying to be friends

but failing

and giving up

 

This is for

seeing each other

after all had ended

and the infiltration of wonder

 

This is for

the possibilities

of what we could have been

but never will become

 

This is for

who we are now

and all the ways we have grown

all the ways we have weakened

 

This is for

kissing someone else

that sour taste left in my mouth

that I eventually craved

 

This is for

the second loves

and moving on

but never forgetting

 

This is for

the phrase “I am not in love with you,

but I will always love you.”

My first love, forevermore