There is no place to go, except for here. This is where the trick takes place.
This is where we do the groundwork and create the plan on what to do next.
We have a plan to consider. We have to figure out which way do we go, how do we move, and when we move, we have to move smart.
Sometimes, we have to move quick and sometimes, we have to exercise patience.
Patience. I like that idea.
Patience is the key to any trick. This is the key to any move, as if to consider the world is a chessboard, and each move needs to be thought out. Sometimes it’s okay to rush the clock.
That’s fine.
But don’t think too much.
Sometimes it is best to let the movements come
Don’t think. Don’t react.
Be like a machine and let your parts move as they may.
It is a kind moment around here.
Autumn has not taken over completely, and the sun has not surrendered all of its strength,
at least not yet. The colder months are on the way, which is fine.
The year will evolve from this one to the next and perhaps next year can bring on the victory that you and I have been waiting for.
I am writing to you now, sitting in my little place. Humble as ever.
I am sitting in the gloom of morning before the sun comes up. I am writing with the glare of my computer reflecting across my glasses.
I am letting my thoughts flow with a movie playing on the television behind me. The volume is low, and the room is shaded with an otherwise dim hue of flashing blue, as if to be electrified by the light from the television.
This is a good thing.
I can think of times when I was out of place or out of my mind. I can think of days gone by and some of the moments from years back.
I remember sitting in my car. This was years ago. I was parked on the side of the road, simply because I did not want to go inside, or home, which is a term that is used by name only to loosely describe the place where I lived.
Ah, my 20’s
Although I did live somewhere, the word “home” has a bigger meaning to me.
The word home means more to me than the place where I dwell or sleep or, in this case, I was homeless with a home. I had a room and board, food, shelter, and warmth but not warmth for the soul.
Essentially, I was alone.
I was lifeless and loveless, and full of doubt. I was thinking about my life or the life which I had created. I was thinking about all the times when I knew there was a warning sign, right there in front of me.
I knew that something was about to happen and that I should make a change.
But no.
I held the course—or should I say that I maintained my crash course to the end, until I knew this was it.
I sat in my car. Young as ever, wondering, hopeless and hopeful at the same time.
I was desperate, sitting in my car, which was beaten up to say the least.
I recall watching a family in their home.
The husband had recently come home. The wife greeted him at the door with their small child.
I watched this like a television show.
I remember wondering if this was true or was this fiction like everything else on television.
Was I real?
Is this?
I can see where life changes and the folds, the cracks, and the redlight crossings bring us to a moment of awareness and life comes to a sudden halt.
I can recognize the new indentations which begin the next chapter and start the first paragraph.
It’s only life.
This is only a lesson.
That’s why I’ve built this workshop.
See?
See the bookcases?
I do my studies here.
I built this place. I created this to find a place where I can create a plan, and to modify my strategies when taking the next steps.
Breathe . . .
I offer this wholesomely and from the heart.
Breathe. It’s only a moment.
This is mere hiccup, or a glitch in the system, and then watch—the world is going to turn in ways that we never thought possible. While I know that we can’t feel the world turning, we know that the earth is moving.
We know that worrying or considering our unhelpful thinking does nothing but throw off our timing—and if we think about it, what kind of magician can pull off their trick without good timing.
So, breathe . . .
Timing is everything.
There are no downfalls. There is no failure.
There are only adjustments and opportunities to turn this world around and set the stage to the best of our ability.
Breathe . . .
If anything, this can certainly prove that we are alive.
If we can breathe, then maybe we can stand.
And if we can stand, then maybe we can walk.
And if we can walk, then maybe we can head off in a new direction.
We can make a change, or better yet, maybe we can pull a trick and stand a little bit taller.
I am older now.
I am no stranger to our old friend, Mr. Adversity.
I am no stranger to my dearest friend, which I call “me.”
I am no stranger to the great comebacks or turnarounds, and I am no stranger to the ideas of one door closing so that another door can open.
As for the television behind me or as for the idea of home, as in “my home,” I can say that every step we take puts us in either one of two directions. We are either one step closer, or one step farther away.
However, even backsliding is useful (sometimes). As we find ourselves in the maze or rat race, or in the game of life; I can remember an old boss of mine who used to tell me,
“Do something. Even if it’s wrong.”
You can’t sit still.
At least not for too long.
There is a game we all have to play and there is a chessboard in front of us.
Just know that there is no such thing as checkmate—at least not while we’re breathing.
Home . . .
This is a trick to build.
I agree.
But every good trick is worth it.
So, relax.
Take your time,
make your move,
and make it so.
So begins the lesson.
The Written Addiction 