I find myself in the night, thinking about the midnight air at places like up high, or on rooftops in the city where moonlight dreams hush down along the blackness of a late night view along the Hudson River.
I find myself reminiscing of things that never really happened yet I reminisce about them as if they were real.
I find myself standing in the late night mindset. I stand where the air is still and the streets are quiet. As I look upwards to the midnight sky, I find myself wondering what happened to the dreams of a life beyond our hopes – or is it better to say the life we hoped for that was beyond our dreams.
Who knows?
Besides, this is just a quick moment of introspection.
Monthly Archives: April 2022
The Secret of Interpretation
The secret is simple. Are you ready for this?
The secret of interpretation is there is no secret at all. I see what I see and you see what you see and no matter how we compare or relate, neither of us can fully prove that what we see are the same things.
I don’t know what blue looks like to you. I don’t know whether you relate to the coming of dawn and the colors of an autumn sky in the suburbs, about 45 miles east of New York City.
A Poem, A Symphony, and A Dream
The sky is blue now and perhaps we have grown beyond our differences from this time last year. Perhaps we’ve improved or at least I hope we have.
I am watching the sunlight as it beams over the large old trees that stand tall behind the small chapel, which has been in my town much longer than you or I have been alive.
It is a moment that we share, now, in the early morning sunlight which has just risen above the horizon. It is warm which shows promise to the warmer weather that has yet to come.
It’s not here yet. But summer will be soon enough. I know it. And so do you.
A Rant to End Rants
Please forgive me but this is part of what I do.
It’s never easy to speak honestly or least of all to tell the truth about the so-called life or the feelings or thoughts and ideas that come along with certain disorders. And it’s true.
They pin stigmas on us like pins on a map. Perhaps the pins are red; as if to resemble a warning of what to expect (and what not to).
Perhaps this is to make a mental note of who we are and who we were. Or, maybe this is a judgment, which is more of a reflection on others.
A Little From the Abstract: A Touch of Hope
Shakespeare wrote, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” This comes from The Tempest. I come from a place called Project Earth. My location is often in the city that never sleeps. I am born of this and from this; I have devised that I am me, a New Yorker (Or Nu – Yawk- a, as my accent implies).
I have seen many things from the great to the grand and from the poor to the sad. I have witnessed comebacks that were beyond my belief or comprehension.
I have seen destruction at the levels of war and as a witness, I was there to see my skyline fall – I was there when my City nearly fell; only to rebuild itself differently. Regardless of the holes in the skyline or the missing towers or Twin Towers to be exact; equally, I witnessed a call to join hands. I saw what happens when people stand together, to build back what was destroyed, brick by brick.
The Damage Done from the Great Disconnect
There was this thing we used to call outdoors. Remember it? There were places too, like playgrounds for example. We used to go there when we were kids. Or an open field was a good place too. We used to fly kites. We used to talk. We used to play. And as I say this, I tell this to a white computer screen in an otherwise dark loft. As I say this to myself, my fingers push keys to formulate the words on a person-made creation, which we call technology. I say these words in my head that appear on a screen to formulate my sentences. Yet, nobody reads anymore. Books and the traditional publishing business is and has been forever altered with systems that read to us for us.
Continue readingTo be Good at Heart
I want to go back to something a young diarist said. She was only a kid at the time. I think she was about 13 when she started her diary. While I’ve heard about the controversy that suggests the diary was not written by a young girl at all; still, I want to go back to the Diary of Anne Frank where she said, “In spite of everything, I still believe people are good at heart.”
Continue readingWhen the Right Words do the Wrong Things
Are you ready for a little bit of honesty?
Here’s what people will tell you not to say. Here are the things people will tell you not to think, yet we think them. We feel them. We hear our thoughts as an internal voice and our thoughts are real.
Our thoughts may not be accurate but in the moment, our thoughts are as real as you or me.
Perhaps, this is why they say perception is not true. But instead, our perception is only true to us.
Correction Over Criticism
The idea that comes to mind is more of a question really. And the question is simple. The question is how do we keep on moving? How do we start all over? Or wait, how do we go back to the old drawing board? Or, how do we grow stronger or stand taller after we’ve fallen down. I mean, let’s face it; it’s tough to get back up sometimes. It’s tough, especially when you’ve been hurt so badly that you’re not sure if you can stand back up again? But you have to get back up. Right?
Like it or not, no one can lay down forever. You have to keep going. Isn’t that what people say?
Changing the Inner View
I wonder . . .
When can we throw it all away, as if yesterday never mattered and now, here we are. Nothing else could be more important than this moment. Right here. Right now. And without judgment.
Just to be present.
I find myself in various stages of inspection. Some would say that hey, this is just me. I think too much or too often but then again, we all do.
We think too much and we pause too often. We miss the boat sometimes and then it hits. us. There we are thinking about a sunset that we will never see again. Or wondering what the temperature is like in places we’ve never seen but only dreamed about.
The Written Addiction 