I have always been a fan of stories about people who come from behind. I am a fan of the underdog. In fact, I am a fan of anyone that is unbeatable because no matter how many beatings they take, they just keep going.
I am a fan of the dreams that come true. In fact, I openly admit to being a fan of high school movies about kids that overcome the odds and the conflicts of popularity. I love this. I admit to enjoying the corny endings where the entire school applauds and gives someone their due.
There is this thing we have, which we all have. It’s called a past. And don’t worry. This happens to everyone. To keep this easy, the past is nothing more than a combination of our yesterdays. That’s all it is. The past itself is emotionless. On the other hand, we are not. In some cases, some of our yesterdays are regrettable. And sometimes, some of our yesterdays are painful and unforgettable. There are people, places and things that come up in our daily lives. There are triggers that link us back to old memories. This pulls us back to old emotions, which lead to the pathways of shame, blame and pain. Or more to the point, these are the links that take us down the rabbit hole of judgement and rejection.
The following story is not necessarily mine to tell and the views in the following paragraphs might not be shared by others. However, these views are mine. These are my thoughts about a night back in the month of what I believe was September in 1987. This is a story about an elderly woman named Mary. She was known as Crazy Mary, which is an unkind thing to say but facts are facts and the truth is history is unconcerned with our feelings or opinion.
Who knows where it all came from or why? Who knows if we were just kids looking to fit in or if our need to belong outweighed our need to be decent to one another. The truth is I believe that regardless of our age and no matter where we are in life, deep down, we are all just kids trying to find our place in the sand box.
Inside of me is that kid that never wanted to be picked on because I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to be pointed at because I stuttered when I read out loud. In fact, I could read a page, a paragraph, and even a sentence and yet, I had no idea what I read.
This is why this little piece of me right here and my writings, my thoughts and my journals are huge victories for me because keep in mind, to be able to write this and let the universe take it wherever it may go is a victory for me. This disproves all the crazy myths about me in my head and only goes to show that no, I was never stupid.
They say springtime is coming in less than one month. This means our half of the northern hemisphere will tilt closer towards the sun. This means more daylight and an earlier sunrise. This means warmer weather too, which means summer will be here before we know it.
As for now, I am writing to you with no agenda in mind. In fact, I am watching the orange hue build from the horizon in the east. There is a white line in the sky, which is the sign of a jet plane, flown over my home at a place I call Wesley Hills. I am on the verge of something here. And so are you, for that matter. We all are.
There was a great chapter in a book I read back when The Old Man was passing away. The book was something I picked up from The Old Man’s bedside at the hospital. He was reading this before his heart took a turn for the worst. I remember this book, which I’ve read again, a few times since. I remember him too, The Old Man, I mean.
There is something so strange about understanding the end and the finality of life. I cannot quite explain this any other way than this: Death is so final. And yet, there was something more to this moment. I had “A time,” is all I can say. I had a time with my Father before he passed. I had a moment, in which we shared a few thoughts and ideas.
Of course there was sadness. But there were victories here as well. We had the chance to say things we never said before. More importantly, I had the chance to hear something I had seldom heard before.
It is hard to believe that it has been nearly a year since all of this madness began. I remember about a year ago, at this time. There was talk about a virus coming and people were getting sick. No one ever expected it to reach this proportion. No one ever dreamed that Covid would become what it became. Certainly, no one ever thought New York City would cancel the march of all marches and shut down the St. Patrick’s Parade. And this year too. It seems the luck of the Irish might not be as lucky this year.
In fact, I can remember sitting in a meeting about this. We thought we would all be fine. We never expected anything to be this way. Even when there were talks about shutting the City, the shutdown was only supposed to last for two weeks.
I have a question, which I think is interesting. What makes anyone different? Or better yet, what makes anyone stand out?
What differentiates you between me, or me between a financial wizard? There are people in life that exist in all different categories. And yet, there are people that stand out among them all as successful. They are in the news. They are creators. They are innovators and somehow, they rise above the rest of the world to become newsworthy — but what makes them so special?
I am going to begin here at this line, which I call the start of my day. The sunrise is climbing higher now. The sun does not carry much warmth this morning and the snow on the ground is pretty to say the least. I am going to start here, at the beginning of my day with hopes to unchain myself from the process of thought.
I say this because this is very important. I say this because our thinking is impactful and can either be our source of empowerment or a tragic downfall, depending upon our angle. And here we are again.
We are trapped in a sense, but yet free, or either or. We are able and capable or yet, internally, we are not free at all if we find ourselves locked up or stuck in a crazy mind set. We are not free if we overthink or over analyze. Instead, we are held here in our personal purgatory; unable to move onwards and afraid to be left back.
Make no mistake about this. . .
No one will ever see your goals the way you see them. No one will ever have your dreams and no one will ever have the same drive. No one can ever duplicate anything you’ve created. Believe me on this one.
Even if something is built similarly, no matter what level the creation might be, still, no one can ever build anything that you have created. No one can do this because of one simple fact. You built this!
This is yours. You created this. No matter what you’ve built, it was built by you and as such, no one can ever recreate this.