The bottom line is you have to live. There really is no secret.
You have to do this because there really is no other choice.
Well, maybe there is another choice but what kind of life is that?
There are two kind of lives–the life you want and the life you have.
I know what I want. And I know that I want to live.
I have to do this.
I have to do this by any means necessary.
We all do.
Whether its to go out and dance the night away, or if you take a drive to nowhere and play the music to the highest volume, and when you do, you can scream the songs at the top of your lungs, or whether it’s to do something wild or crazy, silly, or even if it’s immature, or any thing of the sort, no matter what, you have to live.
There are people who choose not to do this.
There are people who would rather stay where they are.
I know this because I was that person too (once).
But not anymore.
I am reminded of this now, and especially now because of you.
I am reminded because of the way you’ve made me think.
Sometimes, thinking is good.
I realize that life can be hard.
Sure, it is.
There are tough choices that we need to make and there are times when we choose and then, almost instantly, we realize that we chose the wrong way.
I have done this too and yes, I was too proud or too regretful to circle back and change my plans to change my stars, and essentially, I was too ashamed to turn around and change my destiny.
But that’s gone now.
My destiny is here and now, to which I am grateful because I can see where the lies misled me or where the path of deceit had pulled me away.
But that’s gone now too.
So is yesterday and everything that was in it.
There is no hindsight anymore. There’s no more life in the rearview mirror. There is only the here and now. More than anything, I am aware of this.
I am aware of this more now than ever before.
I say this because no matter what happens or what comes my way, no one is ever going to promise me an easy path—and, if or when someone comes along to sell me this or some other dream, I have to realize that there’s always a catch (somewhere).
Okay—
So be it then.
I’ll take the risk.
I’ll step outside of my comfort zone.
I’ve seen people who chose not to do this
and where are they now?
They’re nowhere that I want to be.
This is life. This is it.
I need to see this and I need to be careful because this moment will be gone, faster than we think.
No one knows the hour, or the day, is what I am told.
Life does not come with any guarantees and neither does tomorrow.
I am sure there are safer predictions.
And I’m sure there are safer bets and, yes, being safe is a smart idea.
But what kind of life is that?
What kind of life is it to always play it safe?
I’ve done that before and, to be honest, some of the safest bets were unsafe for my heart.
I’ve done this.
I was always afraid of the next possible thing, which could (and should) probably go wrong.
What kind of life is a life that always lives and revolves around fear?
What could go wrong?
Everything . . .
Can this be costly?
Sure.
Can I get hurt?
Yep. Absolutely.
But sometimes, my happiness is worth the risk.
Sometimes, life is worth the cost of love or worth the cost of that feeling of adrenaline, or the feeling of being on top of the wave and riding high. Also, life is worth the feeling we get when we scream out loud, or sing even louder, or when we dance, or run through a field or, by any means, sometimes you have to dare the edge just to know the answer, which is, “Yes, I am still alive!”
Maybe the answer for me is out there—like, say, out in the deep where the ocean is all the eyes can see.
Maybe life is a drive out east, like to the north fork or to someplace I’ve never been to.
I have to do this.
I have to live.
I have to strike a few items from my list, which is not a bucket list, but this is just a need to live and a need to take what comes. Yes, this is a need to “feel alive!”
I want to be out in the ocean’s deep blue for an overnight spot in the canyons to catch yellowfin, or maybe some albacore, bluefin or whatever it is, whatever I catch, even if it’s nothing—this is something more than a trip. This is life. This is me choosing to live.
This is me daring the line and me refusing to resign or quit or give in, simply because life is not all flowers and rainbows.
It is early, yet it’s late in the game.
You know?
So, now is the time to take advantage,
at least this is how I see it.
Now is the time to take the trips and see the sights. Now is the time to live out loud.
Now is the time. Of course, it is.
Now is the time to take what I can, live when I can, and now is the time to do this without apology or care who decided to join me or not.
There was a time when I was unforgivably young.
I wasted my youth on ideas that never served me well.
I was afraid to dance, in fear that my steps would make me look as if I was out of rhythm or out of step.
I was afraid to smile, in fear that the crookedness of my grin or the look of my teeth were too imperfect. Thus, I was afraid that I would be seen as ugly or pitiful, like a grown man with the mind of a child, special or feeble-minded.
I was too afraid to laugh or sing, in fear that my laugh or my voice would be wrong or too awkward.
I lived in fear for way too long.
But why?
What has this done for me?
What has being afraid to dance done for me?
What has this fear done for me, except lead me to miss the moments when I wished that I could have danced or sang the most.
So, in fairness to myself and to the world around me, and effective immediately, I surrender my thoughts and fears and cast them into the abyss of abandonment.
I toss my fears that I, myself, or I, as I am, or I, as if to be somehow imperfect, or too imperfect and too awkward to laugh or sing or enjoy, and I surrender them to the wind.
The world of fear has done nothing for me.
Fear has done nothing but leave me afraid to dance, or worse, my life of fear degraded the value of the ability to love as much, or as wild, or as hard as humanly possible.
I will never allow this to happen again.
This whole idea of doors opening and closing, or the ideas of chapters closing from one to the next, and irredeemable facts of life, and the idea of thoughts of life escaping me, or the thoughts of missing out, or the ideas that without “this” there could never be “that” has been all too familiar to me. But now, and gratefully, this has come to an end for me.
I have needs and wants and desires.
I can see them now, more than just a priority list, but this is a personal obligation to live, love, and laugh as best as I can.
To hell with the dishonest life.
To hell with fear.
To hell with playing it safe.
And sure, there’s a cost for everything.
But sometimes, the cost is well worth the value of living my life.
I want to do this as much as I can, for as long as I can, until death do us part, so help me God.
I realized something this week.
(With you, in mind)
You can’t live life in a bubble.
Well, maybe some people can.
But I can’t,
at least not anymore.
It’s time to strike items off my “to-do” list.
Time waits for no one.
Life waits for no one.
But me?
I have waited for this moment for as long as I can remember—to be brave enough to live without regarding my insecurities or questioning the “ifs” of every little thing.
I might not get to do all of the items on my list,
but I can die trying . . .
I’ll tell you that much.
I am grateful that I stood up at the bow of a boat and cut through the waves like a knife—which, of course, you know all about because you were with me the entire way.
I swear, this was like introducing you to The Old Man, my Father.
This is the ocean. This is my church. This is my sanctuary.
This is where spirits fly and where the ocean shows us how little we are.
Come to think of it, I told you about my little dog which sick and needed special care.
I told you what the vet told me about prolonging the little dog’s life.
The vet told me about the quality of life.
If the dog loves to chase squirrels, then let the dog chase squirrels . . . what are you buying? Another day or a week or a month?
The dog needs to live. . .
And you know what?
Me too.
I’m not sick by any means and I’m not a dog, per se.
But I do understand what it means to have the quality of life.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is (figuratively speaking,) I think I’m going to chase some squirrels.
Know what I mean?
I’m going to strike some items from my list, just to prove that “I am still alive!”
So, as I close this entry, I realize:
The clock is ticking, and time is mounting.
There are no guarantees, which means tomorrow is not a given.
So, now is the time for living.
Dying is not an option—at least not a desirable one to me.
Some people choose to live.
Some people choose to play it safe.
Some people choose to live according to their fears and some live according to their desire.
Some people will never really live to love
and some will never love to live.
This is just how it is.
From a personal perspective, some people will never know what it’s like to fish the canyons or to go out into the deep.
Some will never know what it means to really dance or sing from the heart, or to be so wild or so crazy that no matter what comes or what happens, the answer is yes, the dare was worth it.
At least, I can say yes—
The dare was worth it
to me . . .
The Written Addiction 