I remember being told that the first shall be last and the last shall be first.
I remember being told that blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth. The again, I remember a line from a movie which questioned, “I wonder how meek they’ll be when they do, sir.”
I remember hearing about people who boast and brag.
I recall a man who appeared humble as ever. You would never know about his finances, at least not by looking at him.
He never talked about money. He never bragged. He never spoke about the things he had or didn’t.
He brought his lunch to work. He had a blue-collar job and worked with his hands. He worked hard too, and I know this because he was my supervisor.
I never told him how much I admired him. Then again, I’m not sure this would have meant anything to him. So, I guess i’ll leave this here for the universe to accept.
You would never know about his personal life. You would never know about the way he came from nothing. Ehile he was never famous or wealthy enough to be on the Forbes list, still, this man built an empire for himself.
We worked. He saved.
He lived.
He made sure that his children went to college, which is something that he never did. He was not free from sin or short of mistakes. He was human too. He was not always friendly and he often lacked a bedside manner. At the same time, he was a good man. Maybe, one of the best, at least I can say this in my book.
I have had the opportunity of meeting people on both sides of the wallet. I met people who are wealthy and sat with people in homeless shelters.
I can say that I have seen misery on both sides of the equation. I have met miserable millionaires and those who are considered to be poor, and somehow, they were happy for who they are and happy for all that they had.
I lived with people who walked the streets and lived in alleys and empty buildings. I have lived with people who lived in box cars and took freight trains across the county, picking fruit, and working hard jobs and people who lived under bridges while drinking cheap wine.
I recall meeting a man who had it all. He had money. He had a family. He had every financial comfort that anyone could ask for – yet, he was on suicide watch and realizing how money could not fill the empty hole in his life anymore.
I recall the best smile I ever received. This was not from someone polished or styled in expensive clothing. No, this was a smile from a homeless man who was happy enough to sit down in a small group of people and be spoken to like a person.
He was listened to, as in heard, as if he were a human being and not trash or refuse, or some street bum with little to no teeth.
I’ll never forget this man. I’ll never forget that I was in a better financial position than this man, but at that moment, he was in a better emotional position. His smile was better than any trick that I have ever pulled off.
I can say this with all certainty.
I can think of times when I was on the crest of a wave. Good things were happening. I remember thinking about this. I remember thinking that at some point, the wave is going to crash.
And it did.
I remember times when I was cutting corners or looking for angles and taking advantage. I remember the quick thrills and the moments where I took a turn. No, this is not a representation of my proudest moments—but it would be dishonest and inaccurate of me to report that I am either holier than anyone else, or that I am above (or without) sin.
I remember thinking, “I’m gonna have to pay for this at some point.”
Nothing is ever free.
Not good times or bad.
No one really gets away with their scams or their lies. If we think about this, I remember hearing how impurities can boil away because impurities cannot withstand the heat of truth or real life.
At the same time, no one can pay for something forever—except taxes, of course.
Taxes are a bitch!
We all pay what we owe.
The interest might be a bitch and the fine print that we missed when we signed the figurative contract can take the life out from under us.
Rest assured!
I see this now from a different perspective. I mention this from an internal perspective, and I accept that we have to realize and understand that the past is our past. The only way to improve our past is to change as a means to improve or to create a better future.
There are times when it seems like we can never “feel” better. And there are times when we go through life and we wonder when the page is going to turn or when the chapter will end. In our head, we wonder when the story will improve.
I am not so sure who has the right to cast the first stone. What I mean is, I’m not so sure who is without sin or who is better or who has secrets, who doesn’t, and I don’t really know if anyone is so pure at heart.
However, I do know that we are all human and thus, it is within us to sin, to make mistakes, to create, to build, or to destroy. However, it is also within us to rebuild. We can recreate our lives at any given moment. We can change our mind. We can change our direction.
This does not mean that all will be forgiven or forgotten, nor does this mean that everyone or anyone is going to help us improve. But in the end, the only thing we can never forfeit or surrender is our mind.
We have to keep our head!
I think about a story that I have shared with you before. This comes from one of the last surviving inmates from Alcatraz. He talked about his time in the hole. He talked about the utter darkness and the stank and filth of the room.
The hole was solitary confinement.
The reason they called this place the hole was because there was an actual hole on the ground, which is where people went to the bathroom.
The stink must have been unbelievable. The darkness was black. The room was damp and disgusting. While the inmate understood his time in prison and he acknowledged his crime, he knew that the judge had given him time, which took away his freedom.
The inmate discussed how he was placed in the hole and upon entering the darkness, he tore one of the shirt buttons from his shirt. Then he placed the button on the top of his thumbnail, flipping the button in the air.
Then he crawled across the floor on his hands and knees. He crawled through filth and scum, roaches and rat shit. The inmate crawled and searched for the button.
He did this until he found the button, and when he did, he placed the button on top of his thumbnail again. Then he flipped the button in the air, once more, and went back to his search.
He explained that they took his time, and that he knew he was guilty. They took his space. They took light and food away from him. But with all of his heart, the inmate refused to let anyone take his mind.
I had to find my button, he said.
No matter what the judge said and no matter what the guards did or who was for this man or against him, the inmate refused to accept punishment for more than what he did.
I think there is a trick here.
I think we hold ourselves to the fire. I think we persecute ourselves, and there are times when we do this with good reason. However, mistakes are a lesson and not a life sentence.
We have to regain our composure. We have to improve our posture, or like the inmate from Alcatraz, we have to keep our mind and our facilities intact. Above all, we have to find our button because if you lose your mind, you can lose your life—and me, I don’t want to lose anymore.
I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to persecute. I don’t want to blame. I don’t want to accuse or look to execute anyone for any reason.
We are all accountable. We are all guilty of something—at least, to some degree. No one is so perfect or pure. No one is so pious or Godly enough that they are without sin and free enough to cast the first stone.
I like the saying about how people in glass houses should not throw stones—yet, we still do.
And sure, I say we.
I can’t not included myself when it comes to this—and still, all who live in glass houses and throw stones, we are somehow confused about the drafts we feel when it gets cold.
Today is a new day.
Yesterday is gone and depending upon what we do with now or this very minute, tomorrow can be a dream or a nightmare.
The choice is ours—
Enemies or not
Allies or otherwise
I do hereby surrender my weapons of mass and self-destruction, both honestly and humbly.
But then again, the hour is early and the sun has yet to show itself.
Anything can happen today.
Anything.
But before I go, and as I recall . . .
another inmate once told me – everyone is doing time of their own. Some live in real prisons and some live in figurative ones. Everyone is recovering from something, and everyone has to do time, in some kind of way—
The trick is to learn how to do your time.
Don’t let your time do you.
I’m not sure about anyone else . . .
But I think this is a great trick to pull.
The Written Addiction 