There was a conversation I had not long ago about my opinions regarding the problems we face as a society. What I mean by this is the epidemic we face.
I’m talking about addiction, alcoholism, and mental health, all in its entirety. A while back, I entered my opinion to which I was challenged to do one of two things: I was told to either put up or shut up.
I was told to stop talking. In not so many words I was told that if I don’t like what I see then I should do something about it. Otherwise, shut up because the world is already filled with too many opinions.
Something I realize now is that we teach other on a daily basis. We learn from each other every day. I swear this is true.
We learn what we accept and what we don’t. We learn what we appreciate and what we admire.
We teach other what to do and stay away from. This is how we learn. We watch each other.
We interact and we adapt. When it comes to new people, we learn about them. We learn about their qualities on both ends of the spectrum from benefit to deficit.
I spent decades trying to perfect my personality, only to realize that I was perfect all along.
I spent so long trying to find myself. I wanted to find my place in the crowd and find where I fit.
We’ve talked about the tooth fairy, I’m sure.
Or haven’t we?
I was a kid (of course) and this happened somewhere around the wintertime in second grade. This was a day after a snow day. I was at the bus stop with the other kids.
Everyone was throwing snowballs, which was fun to some degree. I never had much of a throwing arm and besides, I had little hands with little mittens, which meant my snowball-making ability was sub-par. I never liked wearing mittens but this is what Mom gave me.
I used to ask for gloves, —but instead, I had mittens. I had big fluffy, stupid little kid mittens, which caused the older 6th grade kids to pick on me.
It always goes this way before I speak. I feel a rumble inside. I’m scared. I’m worried that I might not say all that needs to be said. I worry that I might leave out an important aspect of my story.
I’m afraid I won’t be impactful. I’m afraid I won’t be invited back and worse, I have that old, childhood fear of being laughed at. I’m afraid of all these things and more but it’s too late not. There’s no turning back and showtime is about to begin.
There was a
morning when I was at my wit’s end. This was during the warmer months. I took a
walk at sunrise and found my way up the blue trail at the base of a nearby spot
known as Cobus Mountain. The sun was on its way but the temperature was already
I made my
way up around and through the trails. I climbed the elevation and bled my sweat
that drenched my hair and dripped down the bridge of my nose.
I remember when I was young. I was bedridden with a stomach problem that caused me to be hospitalized. Keep in mind, entertainment was different back then. This was before cable television made its way into my household. Back then, all we had was basic television and basic television shows.
There will always be someone out there looking to take a shot at your dreams to knock you down and keep you from being who you want to be. And they do this to weaken your knees.
They do this to loosen your grip, so you let go, and so you slip and fall.
So don’t do it.
Don’t prove them right.
I see there is an issue with our interpretation, which is not to say that we are right or wrong. In fact, this is not to take a side at all.
All I’m saying is that we interpret information differently. You have your way and I have mine.
You and me, we have our way of doing things. And we have this for a reason. You have your way and I have mine because we come from a different background with a history of different experiences.
We come from different places and we’ve lived different lives. We also have different connections and different stimulation.
A word to me might be just a word, —but to you, that same word might mean something else.
And the moon was full. The air was cold, like the kind that makes your breath smoke when you breathe in and out. The farm was quiet and the hour was early, —it was the time before the rest of the world wakes up. I recall these early morning runs. I recall the moonlight beaming down across the pastures. I remember the mountains around me and the sight of the bog old red barn.