We are moving towards the end of another journal. This means another journal will begin soon enough. This means when one door closes, then another one opens. At least I hope so.
And there is a reason for all of this. I need to give myself something to look forward to. I need to feed my brain and let it chew on the meat of better concepts instead of eat the fat from some unhealthy thoughts which, in the end, do nothing else for me except leave me hungry.
I have more to say and more to do. At the same time, I have the need to keep moving.
I have to keep growing and if I am to grow, then I have to allow myself to move beyond this point. Otherwise, growth is limited, or stunted, or frozen into some immature mindset which never improves or adapts.
I had mentioned about the “What if?” questions in my last entry. I talked about how this is not positive or negative; but more, this is only a source of energy or like the laws of electricity, energy like this is always in need of direction.
I mentioned to you how this has been a big question to me for as long as I can remember.
Questions like:
What now?
Or what if?
I agree the world we live in is both a labyrinth and simple. I agree to the ideas I was told when I was introduced to a special program.
I was told how this is a simple program for complicated people.
I can understand that.
I have a deep understanding of the complications that come from the mind, and from a wholehearted perspective, I believe it is possible for us to think ourselves sick or to think ourselves well.
I can understand the need for a great escape.
I can understand the thought patterns which come and the ideas that take place when we are not ourselves, or when we are not at our best.
I have been working on journals that cover subjects like this for more than a decade now. And I have done this with hopes to shed some light on the otherwise grim details of our so-called life. I do this for me first. At the same time, I do this for you because this is the one place where I can communicate with you and everything is pure here. No arguing. No resentments. No hurt or pain can touch me (or you) here.
I understand the draws of insecurity and the fears of inhumanity. And yes, I grow tired with what I see.
I’m tired of bickering. I’m tired of useless fighting. I’m tired of the nonsense that carries on with our emotional debates. More than anything, I am tired of the damages that come after we fail to launch or try, or the emotional fallouts that arise when we fail to seek or look to achieve.
I’m tired of the lonesome diagrams that act like a plummeting graph on someone’s medical chart— and, of course, I am tired of the degrading sanities which become insane and worse, I’m tired of the emotional battles that further deteriorate our potential, so that at best, we can only be as good as our personal limitations. I’m tired of this.
And I have been for a long time.
I have never told anyone that I am good or bad or that I know more than the next person. I never liked the assumption that perhaps I am more in-tune than anyone else.
I am not. I am no guru and I’m looking to be one either.
I don’t deserve the praise and I doubt I could properly handle an honor like this.
So, let me stay humble. or let me stay as I am, which is me. But let me learn so that I can improve.
I do not belong on a pedestal nor do I want to be on one. I am only a searcher. I am a traveler and, humbly, I am lost at times. Yes, at times, I am safe or comfortable enough to look up at the sky and be happy with what I see.
I like these words: Happy with what I see.
I want that more than anything. I assume we all want this –
To be happy with what we see in the mirror –
To be happy with who we are –
To be happy with what we have –
To be satisfied beyond proportion –
To appreciate and to value the moment –
To be able to live, love, laugh and learn, without looking back –
To live without regret –
To be able to go, be or do without hesitation –
To love in the amounts of unforgivable nature, as in to love so much, or to feel so deeply that nothing can tempt, destroy, degrade or devour the truth from the heart –
To understand that life might not always play fairly and neither will other people, but in the end, to be good enough or to be so golden, or so human and so wholesome and real that life takes on an inescapable shade of purity, to which nothing can molest or poison this function because, in the end, the truth in our hearts is unmoved by the badness or the fruitless lies that take place—and even in the cases of betrayal, or after the understanding that we have been done wrong or been mistreated; to be happy with what I see means to understand that I do not have to take ownership of the wrongs which do not belong to me.
As for the wrongs that do belong to me; alas, to be happy with what I see means that I have reached the great plateau of personal understanding—this means that regardless of who says what or the supposed rejections, or instead of personalizing every problem or every pain, to advance to an optimal level means that I have passed through the great divide where I lost myself to the wrong choices, the wrong assumptions, and the wrong notions which determine my ability to seek, or to accommodate, or to achieve, or to destroy, and to rebuild, achieve, or to succeed, and more.
I want to make friends with the wind and enjoy the sky. I want to enjoy the morning and the day, as well as the twilight and the night so that when my time comes and when my life enters its own twilight, in the morning, when I arise to the afterlife in whichever form I am given, I want to look back and view myself.
I want to see me like this – with a heartful moment of gratefulness.
I do not want to look back in despair. I do not want to enter into my last moments, afraid or alone, or to be unloved, or unliked or even unwanted.
I do not want to be mismatched or accept anything less than what I believe in or what I dream to have.
I am aware of myself.
I am aware of my needs for improvement. But mostly, I am aware of the facts to which, there are times when the doors of opportunity close and times when, perhaps, the doors can reopen differently.
Or maybe the doors closed because fate and destiny understood that something else was in store for me; therefore, I have to let them play their game.
But I have to roll the dice to know.
I have to let the lights shine where they may.
And I have only so many sunrises and sunsets before the time to count them is over.
I have told you about the line from an old song, haven’t I?
“Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.”
And so, it is . . .
It’s later than you think.
Who knows what my blood tests might show, or the lump I found . . .
It could be something or nothing.
But yes, this means time is a ticking.
This means that if it is up to me, then it’s up to me.
Therefore, I have to make my adjustments.
I have to make my plans and come up with a good strategy to attack the work which is ahead of me.
And it’s okay if I fail
As long as I really tried.
I have to give it my all.
I can leave a stone or two unturned, if I want.
But, I’d rather not.
Even if the doors I choose are not the magic ones or the golden ones, at least I picked and at least I dared. At least I endured to the best of my ability and rather than ask myself, “what if” or “What now,” at least, I’ll know in my heart that at I played the hand I was given to the best of my ability.
I’ll know that I anteed up and put it all on the line.
And no, — no one, not the hands of fate or the fingers of destiny can point away from me, and no one can tell me that I didn’t give myself a shot.
The universe knows my dreams.
And so do you.
I’m on my way now, God, and since I’ve invented you, at least to some degree in my own head—I think now is the time that I allow myself the chance to springboard from where I am so that I can land and be where you want me to be.
Dear Father Mike,
You used to tell me about your prayer.
“Lord, take me where You want me to go
Let me meet who You want me to meet
Tell me what You want me to say and
Keep me out of your way.”
(Father Mychal Judge ~)
It’s that last part that always gives me a trip.
But I’m trying, my old friend
I really am . . .
The Written Addiction 