To say that the past never meant anything is simply untrue. Then again, to say the past means everything is equally untrue. The past is the past and put simply, our history is our history. This is where we came from, good or bad, crazy or sane. These are the roots from where we grew.
To say our history doesn’t mean anything is not something I agree with. Yet, at the same time I do not agree with the idea that we are defined by our past. It is safe to say that I am not who I was and nor do I claim to be. However, there are certain things we are supposed to see and do.
There are parts of life, which must be undeniable. These are the necessary rites of passage that came throughout the years. There are growth spurts and growing pains and experiences, accidents, and incidents in life that have mapped us out to where we are now. There are some people that live their entire life without embracing who they are. For me this is not life. This is only existing.
Our memories are the times we will hold for the rest of our lives. These can also be the gifts of good living. And if we are lucky or if we find a way to pull off a trick, our memories will be there for us to cling to when we need them most.
This is our proof that we lived. This is proof that good or bad, crazy or sane, we made it this far and with a little luck, we can look back and smile or reminisce with a happy heart about the places we’ve seen and the people we’ve met.
There is something so fantastic and true about the benefit of good people in our life. And, adversely, there is also a fantastic and favorable benefit to the so-called bad people in our life. And had it not been for some of them, perhaps the seasonings of my life would be somewhat bland.
Had it not been for the crazy times, and even some of the detrimental ones, perhaps I would believe as if I had never lived. Put simply, without these items in my life, I wouldn’t even be me.
The truth is I understand the taste of salt from my tears. I understand what it means to lick my wounds. I have been in trouble and in terrible places, and yet, from the worst of it all, I can say that I have met the best in the world.
Had it not been for the course and my path, I might not have ever had the chance to watch the sunset from a yard in Woodland Hills, Los Angeles.
As a result, I might not have ever seen the sunrise at Imperial beach in San Diego. And while this experience was not altogether positive and the result led to a few disappointments; had it not been for this; perhaps I might have stalled. I might have stayed comfortable and not chosen to move on or facilitate the new features of my dream.
There is a moment I have, which is far from familiar to most. I take this from a time of my deepest regret. I was scared as ever and insecure. I was frightened and angry, and yet, I was trying so hard to keep myself together and pull off my pose. I had a .357 magnum under the driver’s seat of my car, and had the events gone differently, I am sure the person I was would have certainly been destroyed.
I think back to the moments we live through of personal and internal despise and in our deepest times of degradation, even at the craziest moments and with the most destructive outcomes, I can say that I have seen miraculous things.
I have met miraculous people. I have lived and loved and learned more than I could possibly relay. Yet still, all of this and all of what I have is all because of where I’ve come from what I’ve survived and overcome.
Someday when the winds are just right, I plan to set sail (so-to-speak) and make my way to the next destination. I want to find myself wherever it is I’m supposed to be.
And yes, I’m hoping for a place near the palm trees. A good hammock would be nice. I’m hoping for the white sands, blue waters, and the special drink with a tiny umbrella on the rim of some hollowed-out coconut with a wedge of pineapple in it.
Someday . . .
Come to think of it, some people tell me they hate goodbyes. But I don’t. At least not all of them. In fact, some of my best recoveries have come after my toughest goodbyes. Some say this is hard. But I say this was necessary.
There is an old “Goodbye” poem of mine. I kept this because there are times when I need to remind myself that it is okay to step away. It’s okay to create a new beginning. It’s okay to put my pride away and to not always have to be right so that instead, I can inevitably be happy.
After a while, the practice is over.
The rehearsal ends and this time,
“I mean it!”
So here I go . . .
I’m packed up and leaving.
That’s it. It’s over!
I don’t have to take this anymore
The wind is at my back and I’m on my way
I’m heading out towards a better life.
I’m taking it on the chin and moving out.
I mean it this time. It’s all going to be new.
It’s going to be good from now on.
New start, new day,
I’m ready to be reborn and that’s it.
Here I go.
I’m finally free.
I’m out the door and yesterday doesn’t matter to me
because I don’t live there anymore.
Last night, I slept on one side of the bed
and this morning,
I woke up on the other side of a decision.
I climbed out of bed and that was it . . .
I’m ready this time.
Different streets, different faces,
new blocks, new places,
new buildings, and better beginnings,
another town, another time,
and that’s all there is to it because finally,
No more sitting in silence,
listening to seconds tick before the alarm clock rings;
no more looking out the window,
wishing I was anyplace but here
and wishing I was anyone else.
No more thinking someone is better
just because they tell me so
and no more wondering what I could’ve been
if I’d only walked away when I had the chance.
I’m out this time
No more wishing for the spring in wintertime
and no more thinking of the fall
when the summer gets too hot.
No more wishing I left whenever I practiced this speech
and no more thinking people will laugh,
because they knew I’d never have the nerve.
It’s come down to this
How many times can you hold me back?
Or better yet, how many times will I let you?
But that’s it, this time. I’m finished.
Go ahead and tell me again
Tell me I’ll never make it
Tell me how I’ll be back
and how you’ll laugh when it happens.
tell me how you’ll keep my seat warm
tell me this one more time
and I’ll tell you how, “I’m gone this time.”
we’re through . . .
No need to get up. I can show myself out.
Besides, I’ve practiced this speech for years now.
It was only a matter of time
before I could perfect this
and pull it off.
But now that I have, it’s over.
And I’m gone!