And here it comes. The summertime. Here comes the memories of being a child, riding around on the streets of the old neighborhood with a bicycle and a few friends. I have this dream sometimes. The dream itself must be an old memory. I suppose it has to be a memory because the place and the vision is real. I can see the streets of my town and the way they were to me then and this was it. This is where I grew up.Continue reading
To believe that success comes without stress or pain is inaccurate. In fact, there are times when success comes with more pain than loss itself. It would be inaccurate to believe that success comes naturally or that success is easy. No. None of this is true.
I go back to my first published piece of work. I think about the punishing reviews that followed. I think about the people that told me I never had a chance. I go back to the older pieces of my writing, which are unreadable to me now. I am miles away from that time. I am years away and I can say that good or bad; hell, at least I’ve improved. At least I continued. I kept going. I kept writing. I kept learning and I kept trying.
I think about my first chance of speaking at a school. This was on my own steam. This was not connected to an organization or with anyone else. No, this was all me.
I know there are times when you wondered if I was writing just for you. Well, I want you to know that this one is specifically for you. I am writing this to you because I think you understand. In fact, I know you do.
And so do I.
There comes a point where all the money in the world cannot cover the debt of living an unhappy life. The distractions run out and the relationships either turn or fall short. And there you are. You find yourself empty with no possible way to fill the void. Nothing is satisfying and it seems as if nothing can be solved.
There comes a time when the pit becomes bottomless and no matter what you do, no matter what you try, and no matter where you go, there you are. And there’s no escape.
I understand that this is a little bit of a rant. I know where this stems from and quite honestly, I’ll understand if you let this note go unread. But either way, I come here for a reason. I’ve made my commitment to do this every morning, so, ready or not . . . here it comes.Continue reading
I suppose what happens is we grow tired of waiting for change. And perhaps this is why we remain the same. Maybe this is where the internal conflict begins, Maybe?
Maybe I just wanted to feel something. Maybe I wanted to find something that could speak for me without even saying a word. Or, maybe none of this was so deep or difficult. Maybe I just wanted to feel something good and that’s all there was to it.
Perhaps there was nowhere else to go at the time. Aside from where we’ve been, there was no place else to go. For example, maybe this is why our view is limited. Maybe we only know what we see and therefore, all we know is what we’ve experienced. Or, maybe I was blind or missing something. Or again, maybe none of this was so deep or systematic.
I was listening to a Mother talk about her child. She was talking about the people who were involved with his program and how they let her son down. We talked for a while. We spoke about the needs of kids that face trouble or live through challenges. We talked about arrests and the bad behavior. Or, more accurately, we talked about the symptoms over the problems and the reasons behind the behavior.
I have been to town hall meetings where parents argued with teachers. I listened to the blaming that went back and forth and yet, I never heard anyone say, “Hey wait, what am I missing here?” or, “What can I do to help make things different?”
There was only one time that I can think of where a Mom stood up and asked what she could do to improve things in her own home.
Aside from this, I never heard anyone else mention their own role nor was anyone interested in talking about what they could do at home. Instead, I saw angry parents pointing fingers. I listened to teachers and administrators defend their positions. I heard law enforcement defend their positions while parents spoke, accusing them of not doing their job. I witnessed parents speak from the crowd as if they were to grandstand before an audience and impress everyone with their brilliant responses. By the way, none of this was productive.
There is so much more beneath the surface. And sometimes, we barely scratch it. There is more to us all than meets the eye. There is more to us, such as the unspoken or the uncovered, the undiagnosed, or the unaddressed parts of our life, which we’d prefer to keep hidden Ah, but the mind is such an incredible place.
We remember far more than we think. This is the storage unit where pasts behind the eyes of each and every one of us.
There is more to us all. There is more to our fears and there is more to the ideas of our loneliness than simply being alone. In fact, lonesomeness is not always synonymous with the lack of company. As a matter of fact some of the loneliest places I have ever been are places where I was absorbed by a crowd.
But no one talks about things like this. No one really speaks openly or honestly. No one dares to be truthful about themselves because why? Is it too raw? Is it too real?
We are all a product in progress. I know this. I know what this means to me but then again, I come from a different time. I come from time before technology took over the world. This is a time before the internet. I come from way back when people used their home phones. I remember when answering machines came around and when rotary phones became a thing of the past. I remember music and music stores with albums and record players.
There were no cell phones or phones with cameras or video. In fact, I come from a time when there weren’t cameras everywhere you turn.
I can say that my youth was fortunately before the blitz of what technology has become, which is almost everything. I came from a time before the cell phone craze. There was no texting or Facebook messaging. There was no such thing as social media. There was only talking and personal interaction and, therefore; there were fewer moments of misread intentions.
Just to live. Just to breathe. Just to go outside and feel the sun on my face. Just to feel the wind in my hair. Just to be somewhere. You know?
Just to step away for a minute; to detach and disconnect. To put the world on hold and regroup; to find my balance and restore myself so that I can come back and get back in the game.
What an idea. To be away. To find a place where I can rest or put my arms down. And ah, the beach. The warm sand. The sound of the waves and the calls from the seagulls.
This is one of my spots by the way. This is one of my go to places. Then again, there’s the rooftop. This is another place of mine. Both of which are places that I’ve been connected with since my childhood.
Do you know when it hits?
It hits the moment you cross the finish line. The feeling hits you when everything comes to fruition. No matter if it’s first place or last, you did more than anyone ever said you could. You defied the odds. You stood tall when everyone else predicted you’d fall. That’s something.
There is a word that we’ve been hearing or using since the day we were born. The word itself is only a word. It has meaning though. There is a connotation to this word that might not be altogether positive but yet, this is only a word. It’s a necessary word too. The word is “Stop.”Continue reading
I have driven all over my city. I’ve been to different places and followed different directions. The one thing I’ve learned is there’s often more than one way to get someplace. And, depending upon who you ask, someone will tell you that their way is always the quickest. I’m sure this is true.
I’m sure this is true, the same as it’s true with doctors or car mechanics. According to most, “Their” guy is the best guy (or woman, if you prefer). Meanwhile, with the preferred pronouns being excluded, as good as anyone is in this world; the truth is we’re all human. No one walks on water. No one is above mistakes. And put simply, no one is perfect.
Life happens in phases and episodes. This is like chapters in a book and at the end, hopefully, we can leave something behind that is worth telling. Again, I say to each their own. To each are the chances and opportunities. To each are the moments in the fast lane. To each are the wild nights of summer and too all are the memories of our youth. To all are the memories to comfort us after we age beyond our prime.
There are people we meet in this life. Some are certainly more memorable than others. There are the basic family models, which we are taught about from a young age. We are taught about our mothers and fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles. We are taught about the routine closeness of our cousins and the family lineage, the cultures and traditions. This is where we come from. This is where our earliest story began.
No one questions whether any of this was good or bad. At least not at first. No, we go along to get along. We live in our family and social dynamic until perhaps one day, we grow or reach a different level of awareness. We find ourselves at a turning point and question ourselves. For example, both moms or dads are not seen as usual people. No, they are the first initial teachers; however, not all lessons are meant to be taught because not all people are fit to be parents. And then we wake up. Then we realize that parents are people too. They have pasts too. They’ve lived. They’ve felt and hurt and like us, they have flaws and defects too.Continue reading
I was very young. I suppose I was about the age when I wore one-piece pajamas with little feet on the bottom. There was a fire on the neighbor’s front lawn. This was something that I didn’t understand. I was too young to know how fires started. I was old enough to know what fire is. I knew that fire was dangerous and that someone could be burned or hurt.
However, this fire was different. This fire was set by someone. More importantly, this fire was in the shape of a small, almost waist high cross that was made out of wood. It was planted in the front yard of my next door neighbor, doused with gasoline and then set on fire.Continue reading
It’s crazy to think how we are more than 93 million miles away from the sun, and yet, we still feel the heat. It’s crazy to think about our distance from the sun or how long it takes to revolve around it. And then there’s Mars, which is even farther away. It’s cold on Mars. Then again, Mars is about 141 million miles away from the sun. So, it’s pretty safe to say that winter’s on Mars must be a bitch.
Space is interesting to me. And I don’t mean space as in outer space. No, I mean the space between time and distance. I mean the way we feel, which, no matter how far we are or no matter how long it’s been, still, we can feel the warmth of someone we love.
I admit it. I had no idea. Besides, no one ever talked about sexual preferences when I was growing up. As kids, we poked at each other. At first, the idea was to lose your virginity. There was an entire posture that went with this. There was a level of popularity that coincided with who you are and what you look like. Meanwhile, there were kids that struggled with who they were. They struggled to talk about their true selves because they were afraid. They had fears of judgment or worse, there were the fears of banishment or to be ostracized and demonized. So therefore, don’t ask, don’t tell. Right?Continue reading
I was just thinking. You know, just thinking about the way you see life. I was thinking about the way I see things. I was thinking about the so-called wealthy or the fortunate. I was thinking about privileged and how with all of their advantages, they get sick too.
Cancer never asks about the size of anyone’s bank account. Heart disease doesn’t care if you come from the Westside or the East. Either way, chemistry is still chemistry. Covid killed both the wealthy and the poor. Skin color is skin color, race is race, and religion is religion. Meanwhile, no matter which God we pray to or even if we pray at all, health is still health and science is still science.
The memory comes back sometimes. This comes in little hints about a time before now. We call this the past. We call this a part of a program. This is what taught us how to live, how to react and respond, how to become biased or maybe opinionated, and how to jump to conclusions or predict the future. All of which stem from lessons we learned along the way. These lessons come from the tales and the tragedies of our past. We can predict.
Consider something. Consider the way the brain works and how we can read something predictively, even though we know the words are spelled wrong. The mind can un-jumble a jumbled word. There have been studies that show how the brain only needs letters to appear in a certain way to be read and understood.
(I laugh about this because perhaps this accounts for the errors as I type… wink, wink.)
In fairness, I don’t know what kind of person I would be. I don’t know who I would be in combat or behind enemy lines. I am fortunate to say this and yet, I am fortunate to say that I will never know this. And yet, still, I am someone who loves my country.
I am someone who still believes in the beating heart and the souls, the lives, the hope and the dreams of our Nation. I believe in the standards, which I have been told about since a young age. Although I understand that changes need to be made, America, I love you with all of my heart.
What do you want?
Do you mean me?
Yes you. It’s really a simple question.
What do you want?
I have a question. What is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?
I think the question is simple. Then again, I don’t know if there is a way to quantify the best or most beautiful because beauty is relative. Then again, everything is relative. There are so many beautiful things that go unmentioned. There are beautiful things that go unnoticed. We take this for granted.
I don’t know what beauty looks like outside of my own influence. I’ve been to different places to see different things. I’ve never seen the sun go down over the French Riviera. I’ve been to Europe. I’ve seen pictures though. And some of the pictures I’ve seen are almost enough to be the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Almost . . .
There is the idea that no one gets it. Nobody understands. In some cases, there’s the idea that nobody even cares because no matter what’s happening in our head, life keeps moving.
All the pressures and all the tensions; all the crap that floods our thinking and yet, meanwhile, the rest of the world is still moving, which means we still have to show up. We still have to co-exist. We have to interact with co-workers and the supervisors that say idiotic or insensitive things.
There are times when life seems like some crazy competition. There’s always someone looking to get something. Someone always has an angle or an agenda. And then there’s us, just trying to get by.Continue reading
Sunrise, and ah. I have to get myself ready. I have things to do and places to go. I have a job. I have a life happening right before my eyes. Some of this is easy and some is challenging. I have people who I can count on and people who I contend with. Put simply, I am like you or anyone else here.
I have my cup of coffee with me now. I have quiet music playing in the background. I have me and I have you. I only say this because I like to break things down and keep them simple. I see this as a benefit to me. Otherwise, it’s easy to overthink. It’s easy to react or better yet, it’s easy to overreact. Life is complicated enough without my input. And therefore, I write this for both you and I and the overly critical. I write this for us, the people who feel too much and dissect too many things. This is for us, the ones that could use a little extra push to get the day going.
Whatever happened or whatever the instance was that changed us, the truth is there’s another side to everyone. There is something below the layers upon layers of added life. There’s another side to me and to you as well. There is however the world in front of us.
There are the people we know and the people we meet. There’s the news on television, which of course, is not the most helpful. There’s always something going on in this world. Isn’t there?
There’s always some kind of fight or finger pointing. There’s always someone looking to push the blame. Then there’s the bills we pay. There’s the work we do and the life we live. And then there’s something like the traffic on the Cross-Bronx, the Belt Parkway or the Long Island Expressway, which is enough to make anyone crazy. As for me, I’m on a different side of the bridges now. My stressors are on the FDR and the Harlem River Drive to merge onto and cross over the George Washington Bridge.
I have other stressors though. I have more than my frustrations behind the wheel. I have different connections that link my thoughts to different events. I have insecurities that derail my hopes and challenge my dreams. I swear, the most truthful and brilliant statement I’ve ever heard is when I heard about our ability to think ourselves sick.
The nerves alone were enough to cause an attack. I was waiting outside and sifting through my nerves to stay calm. What I was about to see and experience was something that was going to change my life. This was my first official assignment as a specialist, or whatever that meant.
In fairness, I have to admit I thought the word, “Specialist” was a little much. I thought the word was reaching for something or trying to make me out as someone other than myself. To qualify my feelings, I had to admit that I gave into the mental obstacles that had plagued me for most of my life. I struggled with the ideas that I was uneducated, that I was not a professional by any means, that I was educationally challenged and that my life’s experience alone was not enough to help as an interactive support. Hence, the anxiety. Hence, the insecurity and hence the fear that I was out of my league.Continue reading
There is a hilltop away from the world in a place from my past. I dream about this place sometimes. There is a tree on top of the hill. The tree is not tall per se. The tree is more wide than anything else with its limbs spreading out in such a way. I view this as a safe place. Life was different for me then. Summer mornings were a different type of quiet. The breeze that swept through the tall grass was calm and peaceful.
In winter, the grass turned the color of light tan. Snow covered the ground and the special tree gave up its leaves. The limbs were empty and gnarled like old fingers pointing in sideways directions. In spring color returned and whether the season was winter, spring, summer or fall, there was a distinct look to each season. I view this in my memory as a place of peace. I dream of this place.Continue reading
It was the late comedian Mitch Hedberg who told a joke about a friend that showed him a picture and said, “Here’s a picture of me when I was younger.” Hedberg responded, “Every picture is a picture of you when you’re younger.”
I think this is brilliant. I think the truth is everything we did is something we did when we were younger. I say this because the world moves. We might not feel this happening. We can see it though. Either way, nothing ever stops. Time is the most awesome vehicle of all.Continue reading
I was never much of a golf player. Mainly because I was never able to hit the ball straight. I never hit the ball very far or played very well. I played when I was much younger. This was during early mornings on the weekends when The Old Man would take me. The idea was to play a quick nine holes, which was never quick.
The game we played was called long-ball, short-ball. We played this because my golf swing was poor and my shoots never landed very close to the green. On the other hand The Old Man played well. His shots were always closer to the green. So, in an effort to speed the game up and not jam up the people who played behind us, I would play the ball that was closest to the green. The Old Man would play the ball furthest from the hole. This allowed me to move quicker and gave The Old Man a chance to play the ball from the fairway.
This is our life. See how we live? Do we live fast and die young or do we move slowly and take our time? Which one would you choose?
This is our life. We go and we do. We think and we live. These are the things that take up our day. We eat. We live some and talk some. We think. We walk and we run.
If we are lucky, we smile too. If we are lucky, we can interact and both touch and feel the different fibers that make up the fabric of our life.
If we are lucky, we can understand the riddles of beauty and the blessings of our destiny. If we are lucky, we can exercise our mind and expand our abilities to reach farther than our typical education. This is not to say that our education is inadequate by any means. This is not to judge whether we are smart or otherwise. No, not at all. However, if we are lucky, we will learn the real meaning of the word necessity.
Not all is lost on the old days. Or maybe it would be better to say that not all of my old ways were bad. Instead, I have learned to merge my older patterns with the newer edition of life. At one point, yes, I lived differently. Perhaps some would call this growth. On the other hand, I just call this being me.
I understand when people say there is no honor amongst thieves. I’ve heard this before. I have also heard long winded lectures and hard-to-listen-to diatribes from different people in my life.
I don’t think I am alone with this. I think this is part of growing up. I think this is part of life because there is always someone coming around here, trying to say how to live, how to do things or how to be. They say this as if they are the perfect authority. But no. They’re not.
Everyone is playing a game with their suggestions. This of course is their projection of their beliefs and their opinions. And this is fine too. This is not always bad either. There is always a lesson somewhere. Some of the lessons are useful and some are painful but either way, we learn. Right?Continue reading
There are things we see, which do not make sense all the time. I suppose we can call this life. I suppose we can chalk this up to experience. And life is filled with this; experience, I mean. This is what makes us the people we are. Where we come from and where we lived, how we speak, our accent, or our common terminologies, this is us.
And me, well, I am a New Yorker.
In fact, I am proud to be a New Yorker. I love my city. I’m grateful for all the experiences I’ve shared here. I’m grateful for the late nights and downtown scenarios, which were crazy and wild.
I was young once. I was hopeful and yet often tameless. Still though, the city accepted me as I was (even if I didn’t).
I recall my late night strolls. I remember walking by myself and wondering if I was anywhere near the places that some of my favorite poets lived. I wondered if I could ever be like them. Could I be inspired like them or wild like them? Could I inspire people the way they inspired me? Good or bad, crazy or not, somehow; I always wanted to paint a picture with words.
I go back to the lesson I was taught about the animals in the forest. I go back to the idea about the deer when hearing a sound and how the deer runs for safety.
Eventually, the deer finds safety and stops running. Eventually, the deer goes back to whatever it is that a deer will do. By the way, this is how the deer survives danger.
The difference between us is interesting. As the superior species, we too have our own survival instinct. However, the difference between us and the deer is we cling to our fear. We live in the past.
Animals go back to doing whatever it is they do. But us, not so much. Unlike the other animals in the animal kingdom, we hold the fear. We hold the anxieties. We tense up. We react or respond in the future with preemptive strikes to protect us or defend ourselves from the elements. We assume. We form biases and prejudices.
We think way too much. Meanwhile, the deer, the rabbit or the little bird that flew away because something dangerous came too close; they go on with the rest of their lives. But us, not so much. We live in the past. We live in our memories and the unresolved tensions or previous traumas and unwanted outcomes.
It amazes me the way people think and react. I am amazed at the way people react to subjects they find uncomfortable. I suppose it would be easier to deny something than it is to admit it exists.
Instead, we hear things like not in my house. Or, not in my backyard. I suppose it would be easier to turn a blind eye or look the other way.
Over the years, I’ve listened to parents tell me how they know everything about their child. I’ve listened to this in emergency rooms too, —especially after being deployed to an overdose. In one case, the overdose was actually a suicide attempt. I listened to a mother deny this. She refused the information even after her son explained this. She denied that her son tried to kill himself and then argued that her son’s overdose was accidental.
I am me. I will always be this, the same as you will always be you. I was born. I grew. I lived and I learned. This is the case for us all however, I am me.
I say this not as a challenge or to compare myself to anyone else. Instead, I say it this way to claim one undeniable and empowering fact. I am me. I say this because all too often, we come at ourselves from a place of judgement. I say this as a means of celebration, which unfortunately most people do not do this for themselves. So, therefore I say it again. I am me.
This quick recording of my thoughts are nothing more than a record of my thoughts. Today, I am faced with my own thoughts on the rebuild of what we call our society. And here we are, facing a new morning sun. The weather is improving and the northern hemisphere is leaning in, closer to the sun. I like these months ahead of us. However, I admit there are challenges ahead.
There is, of course, the new rebirth of our country, let alone, my City. I am watching this rebirth grow on a daily basis. I‘m not sure what this means or how long this will take, but still, slowly but surely, I’m seeing more life in the City.
I’m seeing more people in the streets. I’m seeing a resurgence of life, so-to-speak, which I hope to see improve more and more on a daily basis.
Maybe this has something to do with the time of year. Perhaps the approaching month of June is a trigger that inundates me with a flood of memories. They stream to me, live and in-color, the days from way back when. There was a time that was not so long ago, but yet, everything seems long ago now. Yesterday seems like last week. In fact, last week can seem like last month and last year, well. to be honest; last year was here a minute ago. I swear. Now it’s gone. Amazing, right? Time pulls off a trick like this. Age comes whether we bargained for this or not. Maybe this is why I find myself embracing these tiny segments of my life. I find myself triggered and then instantly, I think of where I was or where I might have been, like say, precisely at this time and on this day, thirty-some-odd years ago.Continue reading
I talk a lot about freedom. I talk about the freedom from self and the freedom from a life which is governed by criticism. I see us all as capable prisoners. We are prisoners to the different systems of control, the criticisms, the critics, and often, we live our life looking in the rearview mirror instead of looking ahead.
Before going forward, I want to reach out and say the paragraphs going forward are not about God, Himself (or Herself either. I don’t want to create any pronoun trouble). Instead, I am quoting something that I had read before. I am not subjecting anyone to my beliefs nor am I pushing the “God” thing on anyone. Not at all. But I do use two quotes below which I use for reference only to bring a sense of understanding.
I truly believe there are more of us than there are of them. And I used to see things this way, life, people, and the interaction between us and them. I used to think about the different divisions of crowds. I’d think about the different regimes of popularity and the flavors of the crowds.
There are billions of people in this world. None of us are absolutely identical. We all have our similarities but yet, everyone of us alive has our own personal uniqueness. This is what makes us who we are.
I truly believe, however, that there are more of us each day who find that life is a hard place to be. There are those who have struggles in life. There are more of us than there are of them. Yet, there is this line in the sand that no one dares to cross or even acknowledge. There are these terms, which no one dares to address. There are words we use to define one another. There are judgements and stigmas that cripple us from saying anything about ourselves or coming forward. To believe that cancel culture is new does not make sense to me. We have been canceling out one another for centuries, — it’s just more televised now.
There used to be a news, traffic and weather station that had a key phrase. “Know before you go.” I like this line. I think this holds true to more than just traffic and weather. In fact, this holds true to life.
But please, allow me to explain.
Before going forward, I want to be clear that this is something from a personal perspective. I want to be clear that what I’m about to share is based on my experience. This is not to point fingers or say what is right or wrong. Instead, this is to reveal what it was like for me in teen centers and adolescent rehabilitation centers. I want to be clear about something, treatment was a benefit for me. There were others with me at the time. And for them, the outcome did not turn out quite as well. I can say that I know why. I can say that they were inaccurately placed and became part of an institutionalized system that did not get better for them.
The world is a much different place when you’re young. Then again, everything is different when you’re young, crazy as ever and willing to dare it all on a whim. The world is so big and new, yet so small, consisting only of you, your friends, your family, the town, the same places you go and the same things you do. I knew there was more for me out there. I knew where I stood. Or, at least I knew where I was trying to stand. There are so many unspoken components to our youth. There are impulses and changes, which we cannot understand. There are different pressures to young life; pressure to fit and belong; pressure to perform and to produce.
I knew there were more things to do and more places to see. Like anyone else, I had a drive to be elsewhere. I wondered what it would be like to live somewhere else or be someone else.
There are so many things that I haven’t seen. There are so many places I haven’t been to and things I haven’t done. But I’m here. I’m waiting. I’m ready, Mom.
I’m looking to experience, smell, touch, taste and see new things. I swear that I’m ready this time. I think age can be a problem — not to be too young or too old, but either can be the culprit of why we cease or desist. I think this is a mindset. You know?
I think this has to do with the way we see things. I think this has to do with our fears, our concerns, our wants and needs. I think what holds us back the most are obstacles in the mind. It’s our thoughts. It’s our ideas and our worries that the worst will come true.Continue reading
There is a way things work. Everyone knows this. We might not always know or fully understand the science behind something like a light bulb or the way electricity works. But at minimum, we know that if we flip the switch, the light goes on. The same can be said about a car. We might not fully understand the work behind auto mechanics, but, it’s safe to say that we know what happens when we turn the ignition, start the car, step on the gas, and go. I simplify this, not to be silly, basic or to insult anyone’s intelligence. Instead, I simplify this to create an easy example.
I have been part of the regular working world for about three decades. I have worked as a salesman. I have had easy jobs and tough jobs. However, for the last 23 years, I have what I call my “Day job,” which is what I use to feed my family. Over the last five years, I have been working an extra job to feed my heart. One job feeds my family and the other job feeds my sanity. For me, it’s that simple.Continue reading
When I was a kid, someone told me that when it rains,
it means that God is crying
I figured, “This must be where the sea gets its salt.”
Maybe this is why I find comfort in the tides.
Maybe I come here to weep too.
Maybe this is why I love the anonymity of the shore:
each wave comes in to wash the sands
and each wave goes out
(to take away our secrets).
I am writing this ti empty my thoughts. I use this as an exercise and write my words without direction or coercion and without any force, except this, to free myself, — to breathe, to live, and to excuse myself from the mental congestion, which does nothing else but hold me back.
Are you ready?
Good, because here it goes . . .
It rains today. The sky is gray and the morning is quiet. The streets are wet and the blacktop on the street in front of my home is sort of glistening beneath the morning light. The white lines on the side of the road and the double-yellow lines down the center are a stretch down the country road where I live. Spring has sprung so the trees are exceptionally green where I live now, which is up in the mountains but not too far from the streets of New York City. I’m just over a bridge now and farther north. There is something peaceful about this morning. The grayness and the rain is fitting and comforting and yet, this is sad as well. Perhaps this is an acknowledgement of what this day means. Maybe Mother Earth knows. Maybe this is why she rains sometimes because she weeps too.Continue reading
I recall the sunrise on the beach in Fort Lauderdale. I remember the warmth and the breeze that moved through and palms in the palm trees. I made sure to be up early to watch the sunrise. Ever see this before? Ever watch the sun come up in the sky with the ocean below? The horizon starts with a band of orange, which grows and eventually overtakes the sky.
There was a somewhat old man with tanned skin. He was a little more than middle aged, wealthy, spoiled in some ways but mainly drunk and someone that always seemed to find me in the mornings. I didn’t know the man per se. I only knew him because he was staying in the same motel as me. He would drink all night and sleep most of the day.
I have a strong belief in the visualization process. I can put this as simply as this; if you want it then you have to see it. I believe in the value of our visions but more, I believe in the hunger this creates. I believe in the need to see things to whet the tongue and have the taste for more. I have to see my dreams. I have to detail them. I have to know what they look like so I can build them. Otherwise, what am I looking for?
Another thing I believe in is the need for support. I believe in the cheering section and how this needs to begin with one. namely me, or you, or us. I believe that in order to find motivation, we have to create movement. Otherwise, there is only stillness in which case, where do we go except for nowhere?
I am older now. I am out of range from my past. So are you, by the way. Older. Out of range. We are out of reach from yesterday’s grip. No matter how close this seems. Yesterday is still gone and neither of us live there anymore.
I am far from the time when I was lost but yet, there will be times ahead where I will feel lost again. And consequently, there will be times when I am found once more. There will be days when I am enlightened and delivered. There will be days where I am confused and burdened.
There is of course, this journey we call life. There is the search for “Self” and the drive to achieve or “Arrive” so-to-speak. There is the need to fit and the need to understand and comprehend. More to the point, there is a need to achieve balance. There is a need to find that station in life, in which all is stable or harmonious. And too, — there is the misunderstanding that balance or serenity is the absence of adversity.
I suppose the reason I began to write is simple. I began to write about my thoughts because I never thought I could tell anyone about them. How could I tell someone?
Besides, writing is writing and telling is telling, which means I am safest here. There’s no judge or a jury. There is no one around to reveal or expose me or worse, there is none here to humiliate me. Plus, who would care to read something written by me? Who would care? I was too scared to dance and scared to sing. I was too scared to share myself in any way that might unmask my deepest vulnerabilities. After all, I was just a kid, right? I am still a kid at heart, yet I have grown. Or perhaps I should say I have outgrown the old layers that buried me deep beneath my life.Continue reading
I admit that yes, I have said this before. “Damn kids!” I admit this and laugh because I remember being a kid and laughing when some old person shook their fists and shouted the very same thing.
I remember this. I remember the differences between the generations and the communication gap, which seemed to be ever-widening. There was us and them, the young and the old. Between the two views, never the twain shall meet. I say this with full recognition that this is an old, outdated saying, which means two things are too different to coexist, relate or understand each other.