That Introspective Push

Early morning and I am driving down a dark road on my side of the mountain with woods on either side of the road, a cold full moon overhead, and I am very much alive with nothing but me and my thoughts to consider. It is quiet for now. I am thinking about the paths I’ve chosen and how they’ve turned and where they’ve led me up until now.
I am not sure if I will ever have enough time to write down all of the words that spin around in my head. I am not sure if anyone will ever read them (except for you) or if I will ever get back to this thing I call a novel.
For now though, I am fine to sit with my thoughts and write them down. For now, I am fine to close one chapter and open a new one. And for now, I am fine enough to say goodbye to last year with hopes to greet the New Year like a friend.

I found an interesting quote by Henry Ford.
“Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal.”

I think this is brilliant. I spent too many years wasting time, worrying, wondering, and wishing something would happen that could change my life (or my perspective) and soothe the aches that come with an unsatisfied existence.
I spent far too much time waiting for a change instead of creating them or creating a life I always wished could be possible. And moreover, I spent too many years believing the self-taught lies that kept me (and so many of us) held back in a state of insecure submission.

Deep down though, I always knew I had something. Deep down, I always knew there was something inside me —it’s like a voice, and when all was quiet, I would listen to that voice tell me about the life I would have if I just gave it a shot. And though I was afraid, I loved that voice because it was there when I needed it most. When I was afraid, I had this little voice —albeit small sometimes and no louder than a whisper, at least I knew that deep down, there was a glimmer in me that would never quit.

I Began thinking about an old prose of mine, which I found in my archives, and it reminded me of that voice I have inside my heart. It is a defiant voice. It is a voice that keeps me going even when the rest of me wanted to quit. I love this voice because it is the voice of my endurance, wild and mad, like a youthful part of me that refuses to agree with the idea of life in common mediocrity. I love this voice because it is enough to keep me going when the doubt machine begins to spin too quickly.

I changed some of the prose because I have changed along the way, but here it is, and if you don’t mind . . . I would like to share it with you.

“If memory lives forever then today will life just as long. Even if I die tomorrow then I can still be reborn and live in the afterthoughts of all that I have left behind 

If I die tomorrow, I can turn around and be proud because my journey can never be undone. This means I will have lived to the best of my ability. I will leave with no questions, no regrets, and no stones unturned. And having lived to the best of my ability, all that I have done has been done with all that I have, which means all I have achieved will be mine and no one can ever take that from me.

If memory lives forever, then I will have this moment and any other moment I choose to hold. That means the best of my minutes, no matter how many or few, all I have done, loved and created will last just as long (eternally)

If memory lives forever, then I will remember you exactly as you are, unchanged and beautiful, and I will never forget the first time I heard your voice or saw your face.”

There are so many times when we are more consumed by the appearance of obstacles than the prize we receive when we dare enough to give our dreams the chance to come true.
I am not sure what this New Year will bring. But one thing I know is that so long as I nurture that little voice in me —no matter if I fail or fall on my face; I know I’ll never quit . . .





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