From The Source in 909 Words

There is a reason for everything they say.
I suppose there must be a reason; only, I’m not always sure I like what the reason is. I’m not sure how reasons make sense of things like the loss of a loved one or heartache.
They say there is a reason, that there is a path for us, and that someway, somehow, we are all going to end up exactly where we are supposed to be.
I assume this is true —I mean this has to be true especially if we believe this is true.

We are destined for something. Whether we are destined for greatness or failure, for richer or for poorer, in sickness  or in health until death do we part; or whether we live out or dreams and passions or wallow in the angry or sad resignations of regret are all dependent upon one thing: US!

I say if there is a reason for anything happening to me in my life then let me be the reason.
Let me dictate and determine the roads I chose and the paths I take. And I know there will be wrong turns. I know I will fall. I know I will trust the wrong person at some point.
I know there will be fallouts and I know there will be disappointments. I know there will be friends in this world. I know there will be love out there for me. I know there will be sources I can draw from and people I can learn from.

I know there has to be a way to find my dreams and find my place in the circle.
I know this the same as I know I live and breathe.
I know this because I am alive.
And by the way, life changes on a daily basis.
I know this.
People change. Situations change. Chapters come to an end and others begin. One door closes and another opens. Someone exhales so another can breathe in and life has a way of presenting opportunity or taking it away.

Life changes and so will my intentions. So will my intensity. So will my ability, which means I have to nurture what I have if I am to improve.
I have to nurture my abilities because life is sensitive to time, which can easily waste if I am not careful.
I know there will be days when my body feels challenged. I know there will be moments when my heart hurts and my spirit feels broken. I know I will fall. I make no mistake in assuming that I am the only one because I am not.
I know this because I have seen the greatest fall or fail and yet still they have the capacity to stand back up again.
I have seen people I admire expose their own darkness; only to overcome and shed light on the fact that anyone can and will improve so long as they dedicate themselves to the path of improvement.

I know that I have been down before. I know there were times when I swore I could never stand again. The shame and the regret meshed with the humiliation and guilt. I was in the deepest hole, which I call depression.
This above all places is where victory comes from.

Of all my victories, the greatest of them are the times when I never thought I could stand again, and yet, somehow, I got up.

There is a saying I have heard, which we all heard; and we have heard this often since the days of our youth.
The saying goes, “You made your bed, now lay in it.”
I have also heard the rebuttal, which makes more sense to me.
The rebuttal is, “You laid in your bed now make it.”

See, I am my own creator.
This means I am the square root to my own equation. I always have been and I always will be.
It all comes down to me.
With regards to my life and the direction I take; my day begins and ends with me, which means what I do and how I carry myself is up to me, —and if it is up to me, then it is up to me to dictate and determine which way I go; therefore, I am me and as me, I am and always will be accountable for me.
Understand?
No one else can do this for me.

Whether I lie in my bed or make it, I still have to be accountable.

There is a reason for everything . . .
Okay, if this is so then I say let me be my reason for everything and anything. Whether I love or I hate; whether I stand strong or collapse, fail or succeed, let me be the reason. Let me dictate my next move.

I once wrote to you and said the day they steal my smile is the same day they stole me. And I don’t want to be stolen. Not ever, —at least not like this. If I am ever to be stolen, then let me be stolen by love. Let me be stolen by the moment and let me slip into my victory and be stolen by the moment. Let me stand before my creation and look upon this and be stolen by the fact that I gave me this. I did this.


No one else can do this for me

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