As I move through this new phase in my life and as I enter this new chapter of an unexplored version of me, I can see myself now, and perhaps I can see myself more clearly now more than ever. I understand where I am. From an introspective view, I know that I want to advance to a better level of awareness.
I want to find my place in the circle and create my station in life.
I want to see clearly. I want a world that is unobstructed or unobscured by the blurry distractions which I see in my daily life.
I want to open my eyes more and see more. But also, I want to live more and not be afraid of what I see. I want to do more and not worry about the pass or fail or the rate of success. To hell with swinging and missing, at least I swung. At least I stood up when no one else thought I could – including myself.
By the way, this has always been a common theme in all of my journals because, of course, I want to live a better life.
Who doesn’t?
I’m curious though.
How many people choose to celebrate life? This is not just a me or you thing. How many people see the world around them without the blockages of a biased life or a biased assumption?
How many people look beyond their own gates and celebrate someone else’s victories to overcome an adversity?
Do I do this?
Do I know how?
I ask this of myself first because who am I to say the world is blind?
But still, I think my questions are valid.
How many people know what it means to be alive? And what is life anyway?
Is it waking up with a heartbeat or to have air in our lungs?
Is life about the problems we find on the expressway or the troubles on the subway during the morning commute?
What does it mean to be alive?
What does it mean to live? By this I mean what does it mean to live absolutely and be truly alive?
Does anyone really know what life is beyond their own perspective?
Are we only limited to a small and finite view of what we see?
I think about the quote from a movie known as The Doors. The quote comes from when the actor Val Kilmer, who played Jim Morrison, jumped up and stood on the roof of a car in the street and shouted, “How many of you people know you’re alive?”
I wonder about this.
How many people know they’re alive?
How many people exist?
If so, what does “being alive” mean?
Is this about the strength of our heartbeat or blood pressure?
Is this about our A1C or glucose levels?
Is this about hypertension or bad backs or sciatica? Is this life?
Maybe it is for some people.
Is life about waking up to an alarm clock and heading to work?
Is life about paying taxes or the forms we have to fill out before going to see a doctor?
What does it mean to live?
I have shared my memories of an old friend named Kenny. I’ve spoken about this in past messages and journals. Kenny and I knew each other back when I was young. Safe to say that this is when I was sick and strung out.
Kenny was no stranger to the life that I was entering.
Kenny was no rookie nor was he new to “the life” nor was he unaware of what comes with “the life” or the downfalls that awaited me in jail cells and treatment facilities.
There was something about Kenny. There was a certain specialness to him which was something my Father noticed as well. Kenny worked at The Old Man’s shop.
My Old Man gave Kenny a chance regardless of the habit which Kenny tried to kick.
But the dope gods called Kenny out far too many times.
Eventually, The Old Man had to let Kenny go.
I never saw this side of my Father – not even towards me when it was my turn to go for help.
It was not much later after Kenny’s departure that I found myself in trouble. It wasn’t long after that I found myself in a long-term treatment facility.
This is where I was when The Old Man passed away.
My Old Man would have LOVED you, by the way.
You would have loved him just the same.
Kenny sent my Mother a greeting card after The Old Man passed. He heard about The Old Man’s passing and sent Mom a card to let her know what he was up to.
Kenny was in a treatment center as well. He was doing good things and living a better life.
He came around, finally, and he was clean.
Mom sent the card to me. I read what Kenny had to say. Of course, I paraphrase only slightly when I report what Kenny told Mom to tell me –
Tell Benny my hair is shorter than ever.
(Kenny and I both had long hair which was a statement to us, and a strong one that we chose to define our rebellion.)
Kenny said: Tell Benny that I think he’s doing the right thing.
Tell him I said that he should do whatever they tell him to do because it took me finding out that I was going to die to know what it means to be alive.
Thanks Ken. . .
I still remember you with a fondness from my heart and with a high regard and respect for your name.
Kenny died from AIDS. He died after years of dodging the problems of heroin.
Kenny cleaned up, but the virus still killed him back in 1989.
See . . .
Most people would see Kenny as a stain or a mark on this world which was otherwise unsightly or unwanted.
But at the same time, no one else knew how a few short sentences in a plain old greeting card stayed with someone like me all these years, which is also life-saving – but who cares, right?
Kenny was a junkie – right?
Wrong. Kenny was my friend. As for the words he sent after my Father passed away, this would make him the best kind of friend I could ever have.
But again, who cares, right?
I do.
That’s who.
My reason for this journal is not much different from my journals before. I say this again because I have said this before in journals prior to this one. However, in an effort to stay loyal and true and as a means to remain dedicated to my goals even when my motivation runs thin, I expose my soul here as well as my truths which can either limit me or set me free.
How many people know they’re alive?
What does it mean to measure the value of life?
I want to know because I want to improve my value and create my next best life.
I want to see more of the world, which is not to say that I have to travel the world, per se; but more, I want to expose myself to real life and to find out what true life looks like through the eyes of someone else’s window.
This is my daily item to cross from my bucket list.
I want to say hello to at least one new person each day.
I want to look outside of my little world and see what love looks like to someone else.
I want to experience a moment of someone else’s culture.
I want to be a fly on the wall when someone has their traditional family gatherings so that I can see what their connections are.
I want to see a person’s facial expression when they see an aunt or an uncle or a cousin or a grandparent. I want to see how people respond to a matriarch or patriarch of their family – and I want to see their eyes gloss over with a dignified look of love and respect.
I want to see the hug they give these people and realize that yes – this is part of what it means to be alive.
I want to connect. I want to entwine my life with this.
I want to learn how to celebrate and to laugh and to live for the moment.
I want to live so unforgivably out loud and without regret or shame or worry.
I want to “feel” this and disregard the worry that my smile is imperfect or that my looks are anything less than beautiful.
I want to laugh and not worry that my laugh is wrong or simply not good.
I want to see me the way my love sees me – as beautiful, no differently than she is beautiful to me because to me – my love is unmatchable and beyond measure. To me, she is beyond beautiful and brighter than the sun.
I want to expose myself to the world and not be insecure or socially anxious or stuck with the thought that somehow I am being judged – or worse, that I am being judged as harshly as the demons who judge me in my head.
These are the items I am looking to strike from my list.
Do you really know what I want to do?
I never went out dancing . . .
I never did this.
I never went on a date, dressed up, specifically to go to a place where they play salsa music or merengue or ballroom or swing.
I never did this –
But I’m going to.
I promise
I want to sweat. I want to dance. I want to laugh.
I want to play. I want to do this and be so free that no thoughts of an outside influence could possibly interrupt the moment.
This is an item for me.
I want to strike this off my list.
And after, I want to take in the late night air and go for a walk.
I want to have the rhythm still beating in my heart.
I want to feel the air and the wind on my face and with love in my heart, I want to feel the hand of my soulmate in mine.
I think Kenny is right about understanding what it means to be alive.
Sometimes, we have to learn the hard way.
Sometimes dying is the answer.
Sometimes, we have lessons that flash before our eyes only we seldom take the time to listen (or learn).
Sometimes . . . we have those who go before us, who teach us, or who tell us DO NOT BE AFRAID TO LIVE!
This, above all, is the value of true friends, which in my heart – this is what it means to be alive.
To know who you are and to know who you love and to know who loves you.
I believe this is life.
Same as I believe in you, my love, my most special friend, my princess and queen, my pebbles, and most of all; my special heart.
(I love you)
Today’s list –
Say hello to one new person.
Take one first step in a new direction.
Try something that I was otherwise intimidated to try.
Cook for the people I love (I did this, by the way – it’s another concoction, but made with love).
Listen to music that feeds the soul.
Exercise both mentally, emotionally and physically
Eat well
Breathe well
Love well
And yes, last but not least –
Live well.
This is my bucket list for today.
Oh, and plan for a dance – at least one, just in case she takes my hand and the midnight air hits our face as the wind blows our hair back . . .
Ah yes, this is a good item for the bucket list.
The Written Addiction 