I sat in a classroom for 8-hours, learning about mental health with the main premise, based on a few different acronyms. One idea above all stood out to me. They called it the four L’s.
Two instructors alternated, subject by subject, which I thought was brilliant because their upbeat energy was enough to keep the classroom alive. They complimented each other very well and kept the information interesting, which is good because an 8-hour class is a long class to be in. All the while, both instructors stressed the four L’s, which are Live, Love, Laugh, and Learn.
Monthly Archives: February 2020
It’s All In Your Head
I hate those words . . .
The problem is what if this is true? What if this is all in our head like everything else is? The fears and the doubts and especially insecurity are in hour head, which I get, and which is not to say that none of them are valid. Instead, I say everything is valid if we believe in it.
I say reality and belief is not always the same thing, which I get as well, which is why I ask the main question in the first place.
What if this is true?
What if all this is really in our head?
A Night In The Woods
We took the trail between the crevice of Eagle Rock and Limekilm Mountain and headed closer to the Ladentown and then over to the second reservoir. This is where we set up camp. The hike itself was several miles and the terrain went from mild to steep in different spots. It was summer and the winds were extremely warm. The trees were green and the air was sweet from the dew and the mountains. It was hot for sure but the climb was well worth it.
Continue readingIs It Time For A Drive?
I have this idea, which comes to me when the moments become too intense. I think of this when the anxiety builds up inside and next is the claustrophobic feeling that happens when you feel like you just can’t away from yourself.
Continue readingSessions From The Balcony: Dream Poetry
And then there was silence.
No words. No noise, nothing to say.
Just silence.
From The Book Of Firsts: The Retreat Out East
He was a happy man, somewhat round and somewhat short, with a round face and shaggy, salt and pepper hair that fell across his head in the shape of a bowl-cut hairstyle. This was the kind of hairstyle one would expect to see on a Franciscan Monk, or a priest, or whichever the proper term may be. His voice was friendly and happy.
I suppose no one would ever know by looking at him. I know that I had no Idea. Why would I, right? After all, the guy was a priest. What would he know about addiction or alcoholism or anything in between?
They Were Right. It Is A Small World After All.
One of my most influential memories is equally one of my most painful. However, the lesson I learned is unforgettable. More accurately, the one thing I learned is that we tend to hold onto things.
We carry the imaginary weight of our assumptions that lead us to conclusions. We argue and we fight when meanwhile, there is an entire world out there, just passing us by and then one day, we snap out of it.
We wake up. We turn around and wonder what happened or where the time went.
Unfortunately, regret is only in the aftermath and by the time we wake up, it is too late; we have allowed the trivial moments to take priority of times that really matter.
So . . . I Heard You’re A Writer.
Everyone has their own life’s story. And sometimes I am approached with a frequent idea that begins with something like, “So I heard you’re a writer.”
I am often told about life from someone else’s perspective, which I appreciate. More often, however, I hear the most popular idea which is, “If I wrote a book about my life, I guarantee you it would be a best seller!”
There would be a lot of best sellers out there if this were so, but nevertheless, this is when I refer to my stock response, which is, “So then write it.” This changes the energy of the conversation almost instantly.
In The Classroom: One Of My First Presentations
I was walking down a long hallway after turning passed the corner near the principal’s office. I was making my way to a classroom with a few teachers and some counselors that helped me navigate through the halls.
They were taking me to to a class where a roomful of seniors were waiting to hear what I had to say. This was part of a police initiative that was created with the intention to teach students what drugs do. This was to keep the student’s clear of the drug life.
I have to admit it. I was scared. I was afraid of what they would think of me and how I would sound. I was afraid I would be a flop.
Then it would be exactly the way it was when I was in school, uncomfortable and awkward, with me being the brunt of someone’s joke.
The Written Addiction 