Morning Reflection

I am sitting at a glass table in the surrounding of an Asian themed home , alone, wondering, and thinking about the life I lived, the life I’ve built and the life I look to achieve.
The sky is in view across from me and the beach is just outside the sliding glass doors, which are closed for the moment. However, the windows are open to allow the reoccurring sound of the waves crashing into the shoreline along Imperial Beach.

I am up now and have been for a long time. I am sitting after watching the sunrise and speaking into a video to record my thoughts for my friends and family back home.
Currently, the sky is clear. Each morning, I notice the same woman that comes at the same time just before sunrise. She comes to sit on the rocks and meditates. I like that.

There was a wedding on the beach last night before sunset. People gathered and sat in chairs to enjoy a nondenominational ceremony, to which, everyone applauded. I liked that too. Everyone smiled and showed a sense of warmth. It was beautiful.

Nearby is Mexico, Tijuana to be exact. And the water; well, the water is beautiful. Cold, of course, but still beautiful.
The sunset here is like nothing I have ever seen before. The way the colors of the horizon interact with the silvery mist from the ocean below and the clouds above is heartwarming to me—amazing, beautiful, like the first time I ever kissed a girl, which makes me wonder what it would be like to sit by the side of my love and be here, on a daily basis, to watch the sunset.

Admittedly though, I am a city kid. Admittedly, the sunsets in New York City are different. And I would never change who I am or where I’m from for anything in the world—but someday, I suppose, like you or anyone else; I envision myself moving or migrating someplace warm with white sand beaches and palm trees to have slower times in a slower frame of mind.

I think above all, one of my main lessons I have learned is to enjoy every moment no matter where I am. No matter where I live, work, commute, or travel to; I need to enjoy every minute because life is filled with ups and down, broken promises, disappointments, casualties and tragedies. Therefore, I need to find something to look at. I need something to look forward to. I need to find my sense of purpose. More importantly, I need to substantiate my propose by understanding why and what my purpose means to me.
I need to find my focus and be able to maneuver away from my ideas of unintended outcomes.
I am here, now, in a place which is wonderful as ever. The waves are a constant source of energy. The world is energy. I am energy, which is why I needed to come here to find you and relay this message.

I love you . . .

I need to pour my heart out. I need to put this all on the line and let this go. I need to understand my reasons to maintain my motivation because look, let’s face it, not everything in life goes according to plan. Not everyone will accept us or want us or move, think, or act the way we wish they would.

I used to interact with a Mom who lost her child to cancer. She has other children too. She told me she never tells her children that everything will be alright because sometimes, or often times, rather, everything will not be alright. But either way, we have to be alright even if we are not alright because life does not wait and neither does time. The two neither care, condone, or oppose us. They just keep moving no matter what.
Either way, we have to keep moving. We have to keep going, keep moving and doing anything and everything because no matter what, we still have a life to live until the day we die.

I am thinking now about the people I have reached out to and the people I hoped the best for. I am thinking about the people I know and the people I wish would give themselves a chance.
I am thinking of the things we do and the habits we form, and often wonder, what if we were more permissible or understanding.

Just let them go. Just let them be them. We don’t have to like it. We don’t have to condone this. We don’t even have to be around them. But of all things I have learned is the offer is there. The help is there. But expectation, well, I stay away from expectation because put simply, not everything will always be okay.

I knew a friend. He drank. He drank a lot and he drank often, and daily, certainly more than a few pints.
“This is what I want to do,” he said.
“This is my house and I want to drink,” he told his family.

It wasn’t until a death did my friend turn around. We never spoke much about why or what his motivation was. I suppose he lost to much and felt too much pain. I suppose he was tired of missing out. But this is still a sickness. (Know what I mean?) and sicknesses are not always easy to overcome . . .
To feel that much; to endure so much pain and not have any relief; to feel so low that nothing can revive life back into the lungs. This is the tragedy of pain.
So you drink and you drink and you drink until oblivion comes. You drink until you sleep. You drink until your numb. You drink until the thinking stops spinning in your head. You drink to make sense of nonsense and you drink to find yourself on the melancholic plateau; the great divide, which separates man from man (me from you) and life from us. You drink until the yelling stops or the combat is over. Either way, you drink until you can’t drink anymore and you find yourself, blacked-out, and awake the next day wondering, “What the hell did I do now?”

Not everyone pulls through is what they say. Not everyone gets it is what I hear. Only a few will come around. Only a small, precious lucky few, which I am one of.
Maybe it’s been too long for me. Maybe I have forgotten the discomfort that comes with the separation between me and the one thing that helps me makes sense—and whether it be pain, whether it be sadness, whether it be the misunderstood fascination for euphoria or the endless need to removed from atmosphere, whether it be an addiction to turmoil, to drama, or whether my need to be right was so important that I would do anything and everything wrong just to prove my point, maybe I have become too far removed to understand.
Or, one could argue, maybe I just want too much. Maybe I dream too much. Maybe I just don’t want to see depression take another life (including my own) so I knuckle-up and choose to fight back.

It is funny though. I am in a beautiful section of the world. The palm trees are beautiful, the beach, the sound of the ocean waves is amazing and the feeling of my heart in my chest as I whispered to my Mother in heaven as I viewed the beach for the first time, “Look Mom, I made it,” was fulfilling to say the least. But still, the sickness still lives here as well. They are no stranger to casualty here. There is no common ground or common face; there is only a common problem no matter where we go.

I am glad I have seen what I have seen this week. I am glad I have learned what I learned and felt what I felt. I am glad I learned how to separate me from the outcome and only pour into my effort.

By the way:
The locals all make sure to mention my accent. Apparently, I am hard for some of them to understand. One person suggested that I come with subtitles—but I mean, I’m from New York. We speak English in New York. Well, we mostly speak English.

I am closing in to end this session. I have today and tomorrow and the I close up to return home like a prince does to his castle.

Don’t worry New York.

I’m coming home

I love you

Image result for sunset at imperial beach

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