There is no plan, per se nor is there a script to follow. No, this is life . . .
and life is happening, live and in-person. Know what I mean?
There is no right or wrong when it comes to our plans. There’s only the moment, which is here and now.
So, expect the unexpected and allow yourself the right to adjust your plans accordingly.
This is the only way.
I am working to navigate my way towards a new life. While I go at this alone and on my own for the first time in a long while, I have to understand that the chance to improve and grow is happening, right here, and right now – live and in-person.
I am wiring this to you both humbly and matter-of-factly to be both real, true and relatable.
I am more of a conversationalist with a pen than a person with a literary goal in mind.
I am a very real person.
I cannot wait nor can I allow time to create distance between me and my dreams nor can I allow so much time to pass that I forget my way.
I cannot allow time to separate me from my purpose nor can I sit back and watch life just happen, as if I am only a witness or less than a participant.
I have lived most of my life in envy of other people. What has this done for me?
What does this do for anyone?
I have watched other families and other people, such as lovers, walking down the street together, hand-in-hand, or I’ve seen old couples as they sit on park benches. I have watched people laugh or celebrate or dance and sing.
I have not forgotten my need to enjoy the music or the rhythm nor have I forgotten the feel and the personal texture of what it means to laugh out loud and have fun.
My items on this list of improvements are different from back when I was younger or unaware.
My time is now; however, and then again, my time has always been “now.”
Only, my attention was diverted to other ideas or preconceived worries and programmed defaults.
I lived my life according to assumptions.
I assumed . . .
And you know what happens when we assume, right?
I want to run and play no differently than I did when I was younger. I want to enjoy the day no differently than I did when I was a small boy.
Oh, and yes, my enjoyment has matured and the things that make me happy have advanced from toys of my youth to the toys of my adulthood.
But so what? The vehicles of my peace have changed.
The destination is still the same
Carpe Diem!
I wonder how many people dare to live this way – to seize the day, to dare, to step away from their little holes where they hide – or to step out from behind their curtains or undo their mask and let the world see them for who they are . . .
How many people do this in their life?
Do I do this?
Do I lend myself to the wrongs, or the evils, or the complaints which I have and/or am I the person with the traits that condemn the most?
Maybe . . .
I am myself when I am here.
This is my corner of the world to which no one really knows about this place.
Besides, this is only a place that exists in my head.
No one can come here, unless I allow them too – and even still, I use this little place of mine as a fortress.
This is my sanctuary.
Do you see it?
This is my little special corner in the world that no one knows about and nobody else can see
(except for us).
I’d give you the keys but, I’d have to tidy up a little first.
Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think that I was a slob, which I’m not.
A hopeful artist of some kind, maybe.
But a slob? No . . .
I’ve built this place in my head. In my head, I’ve made myself in an imaginary room, like an office, with pictures on the walls of heroes and loved ones. I have surrounded myself in this mental palace to offer myself a safe ground.
This is my studio and my workshop. This is my laboratory.
This is where I keep the old drawing board, as they call it, because no matter what happens or who says what about me; this is a place where I can come to retreat or retire for the day, and at the spawn of each sunrise, I come here to allow my thoughts to translate onto paper.
My ties to an old life have frayed and aged.
My hope is growing and my faith is improving. I’m not sure how close I am to the promised land.
I am not sure when I will find myself in the Motherland again, to which I know what these words mean to me.
The promised land and the Motherland, these are places in my heart and linked to the warmest regard and sentiment of them all.
These are places that I have a very special connection to. And, too, there is an offering of gentle mourning to this because there is a sad connection to my own Mother.
May she rest in peace.
There are days when awareness takes place. There are times when the awareness overwhelms me because old signs that went ignored are somehow blaring to me now, especially when I look at them in hindsight.
And hindsight is perfect, right?
I have no time for old regrets. I have no time to lament about the past or the choices I made. I have no time to gripe or bitch or complain or shake my fist at the sky.
All I have time for is this list of mine – a bucket list, which is not a “to-do” list so much as it is a list of items to experience.
I have no time to think about the things I miss nor can I reminisce about the opportunities that escaped me.
I will build these items like a prom that never happened and a time that needs to take place. In my heart, I know this is a long drive in a convertible with the wind in my hair and freedom is the long, empty road ahead of me.
I am here . . .
That is all I know.
I have lived my life in accordance with an unfit blueprint or plan.
I let this happen for a very long time.
(Have you?)
I allowed myself to build and draw my plans in accordance with outside predictions or opinions of me – or in other words, I allowed myself to give my strength away and lent myself to ideas that came with no benefit.
My goals now have less to do with external success and more to do with internal satisfaction.
This is not about how much money I earn or how I look in comparison to anyone else anymore.
This is not about who succeeded better or who passed me around the track or who lapped me more times than I can count.
Today’s item is to remove my comparisons.
I want to surrender these things.
I want to let go of my old internal dialogue and create a new inner-voice or build an internal hero.
But do I have a hero?
Sure, I have more than one.
But today, one comes to mind above all –
I want to be brave.
I want to be happy in my own skin.
I want to be proud of my reflection in the mirror.
I want to laugh and sing and dance and if I don’t know how, I want to enjoy the process that comes with learning how to sing or dance a new step.
I want to rid myself of the awkwardness or rid myself of awkward thinking.
I want to strengthen my view of “Self” to see my own beauty and not give in to tiny imperfections.
I want to be free – so, today, I have given myself the permission to do just that –
To be free.
I have seen many changes and losses over the last few months. And yes, I am still here.
I call this life.
Yes, I have fallen. And yes, I have endured.
I’ve made it my priority to place both of my feet on the floor each morning and then I stand up and see my reflection in the mirror.
And, come hell or high water, I have not surrendered my right to smile or seek happiness.
I have not given up, nor will I, nor should I.
Today‘s item – to live!
That’s all.
I say to myself –
Be sure to live, Ben Kimmel
Be sure to stand tall.
Put your shoulders back and keep your chin up.
Do not look away or avert your eyes like a dog that is too afraid to face the intimidations ahead of you.
Go, be and do, Ben Kimmel.
Love with all of your heart.
Be unafraid.
Dance when you can.
Sing when you choose.
Live, love, laugh and learn, Ben Kimmel
I tell myself –
This is the only way to grow.
I was thinking of you, Mom.
I was thinking of our old house and the dining room table.
Modest and humble but beautiful, just the same.
I was thinking about the soft, almost yellowish light from the small chandelier above the table and the old wood-paneled walls, which was the style at the time.
I was thinking about the light from the kitchen and how this would come from behind you as you walked from the kitchen into the dining room, and you leaned over to put a plate of food down in front of me.
And I’d sit in my seat at the table – it’s like a dream to me .
(You know?)
I am quiet here. Humbled and in need of a Mother’s love
And you . . .
You would offer my plate of food with an understanding touch and hand on my shoulder, as if to say, “Here son. Eat this and Mom will be right here.”
It’s been a while Mom.
It’s been so long, in fact.
But it would be nice to see you again.
It would be nice to have that feeling of sitting at our dining room table and eating a plate of your mashed potatoes and chicken cutlets with gravy.
It’d be nice to hear you say, “I’m very proud of you, son.”
That and a plate of your food, I swear, could cure the heart of any cancer known to man.
So, how does this tie into my list?
All I can say is I want to cook a meal now.
Even if only for myself – because sometimes the most nurturing thing we can do is sit back and take care of ourselves – from within.
Miss you, Mom.
Hope to see you soon
(Somehow)
The Written Addiction 