I am writing this as a note to you. Then again, all of my notes are to you.
So, I’m not sure if this is a note or if this is a moment of clarity or a moment of awareness, or maybe this is a mission statement.
Yes, that’s it.
This is all of the above.
There are stages of change, such as the moments when there is pre-contemplation, or when all is unclear and muted and unseen. Next is the wake-up call. This is when we find ourselves in the stages of contemplation and next is determination, and then comes action. Next is maintenance because nothing can be sterling without the care to keep it polished.
Understand?
I saw something interesting last night. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt restless and anxious. Plus, I was hungry too.
I got up and put on some sweats and a t-shirt.
I got in my car and started to drive.
I was too deep in my own head, which often happens when life takes on the intense spins of too much at once. But hey, this is life too (sometimes).
I saw something.
A man drove through the window of a storefront at 1:00am in the other morning. I suppose the awareness that his life was about to change became clear when they clasped the handcuffs around his wrist, which is when he started to resist which, in a sense, I wonder if he was resisting arrest or perhaps he was resisting the moment of clarity.
Do you understand?
I wonder if he wasn’t resisting the arrets as much as he was resisting the facts which became abundantly clear when the officers tried to escort him to the squad care. Just like that, this young man knew that his life was not going to be the same.
I wonder . . .
Safe to say the drinks were still in his system enough to keep him in a state of disbelief. He sped through an intersection, which was more like a “T” and rather than make a right or left turn, the young man popped the corner and drove straight through the window of a hair salon.
I suppose he should be thankful the store was closed. He should be thankful there was no one inside or that this happened in the middle of the night because the charges would be different if the store was full.
Drunk driving is one thing, and the destruction of property is going to be expensive, which is another thing. However, vehicular manslaughter is on a different level of burdens that would weigh on this man for the rest of his life.
The driver was unharmed. The young man wasn’t even scratched. I know this because I am a student at the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu school next door, and I am currently working hard to achieve my blue belt in less than one year. But more, I am a man who understands the idea of needing a spark to kindle the light of change.
I can say that this accident is going to spark a change for the young man.
And I’m sure that a judge is going to say the same thing.
I am not entering my opinion of the young man who is only 28 years old. I’m not saying he deserves leniency or that the law should throw the book at him.
I have no opinion on this at the moment.
But—
Maybe this could be a wake-up call. Maybe this might be enough for the young man to realize that this was nothing more than a catalyst.
Maybe this can bring a change to his life, or if anything, maybe this will open his eyes enough so that his change can influence someone else, and like a ripple effect, perhaps the tragic moment might come to pass and evolve with something worthwhile.
I do think that great things can happen after bad things take place.
Then again, I have listened to people discuss the debates of whether this is a “good” or “bad.”
I have heard from doctors and hypnotists, and I have listened to the discussions from other people in the mental health world who say that perhaps there is no more right or wrong, in which they meant that right or wrong is a matter of perspective.
I don’t think this is altogether true
I have heard people say that it’s not about right or wrong—that there’s only good, better, and best. I get this from a therapeutic point of view.
But I digress.
I am not here to place my bets on this.
I find that there is good and bad and right and wrong. I do believe that life and opinion is subjective and yes, I can say that good things have come to me after bad situations took place.
And that’s good.
I go back to Newton’s Law of Motion.
Newton says, “an object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion, at the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”
Life is this way too.
How many times did we resist to change until we were altered or moved by an unbalanced source?
I see people walking. I see people with their heads down, on their cell phone.
Mindless . . .
I see those who go through a stagnant little life and pay no attention to the world around them. Yes, I can say that I have done this too, as if to be blinded or hindered from sight, until one day—light shines through the blinders, as if to see something for the very first time, like the light of life, which sparks the idea of change and lights the fire in my heart.
I see this like an engine in need of fuel and, suddenly, the source provides the heat and next, our engines begin to fire on all cylinders.
I was on a hike with someone who asked me a very simple question.
Where do you see yourself in three years?
I wasn’t sure.
I had no vision.
I was stagnant to say the least. I was in some kind of quasi-holding pattern, which was neither hot nor cold and hardly lukewarm, I thought nothing of this and had no passion or aspiration.
I had no view for the future.
I was machine-like, or perhaps it would be best to say that I was like a piece or a needless cog on an assembly line.
What kind of life is that?
I was nothing more than a soulless object on some huge conveyor belt of a world, with no zest for the future, no life in my lungs, no blood for the heart and no passion for my soul.
I didn’t need to drive through the huge window of a storefront; however, the impact from this question as to where did I see myself was no different to me. This was me hitting the truth, like some head-on collision and at that moment, I saw myself as lifeless and pointless.
I awoke, no differently from the young man who had his moment of clarity when the arresting officers put him in handcuffs.
Wow . . . where do I see myself in three years?
I was an object or a number. I was neither alive nor dead, but someone who mechanically repeated my life on a daily basis.
There was no rise or fall. There was no sense of overwhelming lust to be alive and no thirst or hunger to live out loud or to be colorful.
Everything about me was flat (except my stomach. I was 80lbs overweight.)
I was an item at rest or perhaps I was an item in an unwanted motion.
In all fairness, this is not living,
No. A life like this can only be muted at best, or zestless, or uninspiring, tired and mindless, and worse; in a word, life like this is nothing more than faded and empty.
This was my life . . .
And I wanted more.
I have found myself caught in the stagnant nod of life on the assembly line, which is not to put this down for anyone else—if this is “their thing,” then this is their thing.
You know?
Whatever blows your hair back . . .
I have seen what the depressed side of life has to offer.
I know what it means to be alone and loveless, vengeful and hateful.
I know all about this.
I have seen the doubtful side of life.
I know about the complacent safeties of a basic life unchallenged or unenthused, to which we enter into a poorly negotiated treaty that states; you can just sit here and play it safe. You might not get the high highs or the low lows, but life can be a safe.
Life like this is nothing short of a muted brand of color.
This is life without the risk, without the reward. To me, the worst part of this is there is no thrill of victory and no rush that comes when we defy the odds and defy the predictions of those who told us, “sorry kid, but you’ll never make it.”
I am awake and yet, I am exhausted.
I am thinking about the young man who crashed through the store front and nearly drove from the front and almost went clear to the back of the store.
Thank God no one was inside.
I was thinking of a conversation with my Professor, which is my Jiu-Jitsu teacher—he said that as bad as this was for the driver, maybe this can spark the change of something good.
I can appreciate this.
I can appreciate this from a personal (and equally legal) perspective.
However, as an item at rest or an item in motion, I can equally appreciate the need to be altered by an unbalanced force.
I am not where I want to be.
Yet.
However, I am reminded of the feeling I had when I was on that hike and someone asked me, “where do you see yourself in three years?”
I am not here to look into the future.
I’m here to address this moment, as in right here and right now.
I am currently resolving some consequences and learning to navigate away from my previous chapter.
It is not far from me now—my future.
In fact, my future is right here, until it’s the past.
However, and more importantly, I see how I have allowed my passion to dwindle and how my spark ran low. I can see this all too clearly, like a sign across the heavens, which I equate to the first light or morning. I guess we can say this is an alternate version of a wake up call.
I can see where I was and how the fires from my spirit became neither hot nor cold and barely lukewarm.
Life without passion is lifeless.
I know this and so do you.
To be clear, of all things I never want to be, lifeless is just one example—or more to the point, being lifeless to me is the same as an item at rest, which stays at rest until death comes along, —to make the stillness permanent.
I don’t want that . . .
I don’t want to be loveless or hopeless.
I don’t want to be jaded and resigned to a life that has no meaning
(or purpose).
I don’t ever want to be mute of dulled or absent of light.
I don’t want to be colorless or so joyless that I turn into some old crazy bastard, or become so cynical that I yell at the television because there’s no one else to talk to.
I don’t want to become “a thing” so just a shell of myself, or a shell of a man who isn’t alive or dead but simple and mindless like an item or a cog on an assembly line.
Dear Self,
I lost too much this year. You and I have to sit down and go over some plans.
As in right away.
I think that you and I were reading the wrong blueprints.
And dig it, I know we have bills to pay and responsibilities to keep—but we also have a life to live.
Remember?
We used to say how we have two jobs.
One job pays our bills and the other job pays our heart.
And let’s be clear . . .
I don’t want to be lifeless again, or mindless, or colorless, and above all, I don’t want to be passionless either.
No warmth from the heart.
No purpose for the soul.
No zest for life.
No daring the edge.
No defying the odds.
No walks in the rain or moments of greatness
What kind of life is this?
And self . . .
Do you remember when people told you that you would never be able to pull off that trick?
Did you listen to them?
Do you remember being flown across the country?
Do you remember when the news put you on blast?
Do you remember winding up on the front page of the newspaper?
You were pure then.
You were driven.
You weren’t thinking or overanalyzing.
You were doing. . .
but hey,
this is who you are.
This is where your soul lives.
So, what do you say if you and I get back to the basics?
What do you say to the two of us making life happen?
Perhaps it would be best for us to reconnect and stoke the flames so that our engine can burn on all cylinders again.
Do you remember what it felt like to be on stage?
Do you remember what it felt like to be pure with your actions and not overthink the possibilities of rejection or failure?
Do you see how this led you to defeat because you expected this, like some self-fulfilling prophecy?
You and I did something that was pretty goddamned miraculous if you ask me.
Just know –
No one is gonna love you if you can’t love yourself, my man.
And this is not a punch to the gut and this isn’t a figurative lesson, like the car through your store front—or is it?
Maybe this is just an idea to change your motion or to keep us from being an item at rest.
And you—
I want you to know that I am here.
I’m not going anywhere.
I am not claiming perfection and this is not about being better than I am—but more, this is about waking up, every morning, and feeling that zest again.
This is like when I smell my coffee after the machine starts to perk — just before I start to write.
This is when I come here and sit down before you, like this, and I open my soul to you, and only for you.
No matter what you think,
I could never be grateful for anything more than I am grateful for you.
I swear . . .
I am not at rest. I’m in motion.
And that’s a pretty good place to start for now
(if you ask me).
The Written Addiction 