I have met people who might slip by, unknown, or unassumed, and no one would ever guess that they would be as great as they are. I have met angels in women’s clothing and men who wore the invisible armor as saints. Yet, no one would know who they were, at least not by looking at them. No one would know because people like this never tell on themselves and say hey, I am here because fate sent me to you.
I swear, the best heroes are humble.
I have been told about the way I look or appear. I have been told by different professionals and by teachers and administrators that they were surprised to hear me speak the way I do. I have had the honor of speaking to crowds from a professional standpoint, to which I was told that because of how I looked or how I sound, people that I was not something that matched what they expected to hear.
I have seen enough of the world to realize that there are better places, better neighborhoods, and yes, there are towns, and spots in this world where common decency is still common.
This goes unsaid or unnoticed, or as usual, like most good or simple things, this goes on as something that we take for granted.
I have learned a brutal lesson:
Never take the good things for granted. Never ignore the positive. Never overlook the value of a simple “hello” or the love and the value behind a “good morning.”
Be mindful not to do this because there will be a time that comes, and the kind words are no longer around to keep you warm.
I can attest to this.
I can attest to the absence of comfort.
Then again, everyone gets their turn on the ride, which means we all go through peaks and valleys. We have ups and downs. We overlook the simplest and most beautiful things, like the way daybreak changes the sky, which is a personal favorite of mine.
I might not have ever seen the sunrise come up above the Amalfi Coast and this might not happen.
But okay. So, it goes.
But . . .
I have watched the sun come up in New York City. I have felt the warmth from the sun in simple places, which are simple enough to remember. Yet, I can understand how places in our life are common enough to be thought of as “given,” as if to say, “no big deal,” the sun comes up and goes down over the beach at Point Lookout every day.
I am not anyone better nor worse, nor will I start to measure people by their moral compass nor will I allow anyone to be on a podium above me, nor should I put myself above others and see them as beneath me.
Life will humble you.
Life will change and the common, the given, or the usual things will become memories from your past. Next, you find yourself alone and remembering the old saying, “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
I agree.
I have lost.
I have gained.
I have overlooked the importance of the simplest things, such as the sound of someone’s voice, first thing in the morning.
However, I am ready to reclaim my place in this world and to retake the charge that love is worth fighting for.
I have lived different lives. I have lived through good times and bad times. I have experienced moments of love that were so overwhelming and beautiful and, too, I understand the feeling of Siberia.
To explain, I understand the polar opposite, which is the feeling that takes place in the middle of a king-sized bed, and the empty space between two bodies that resent one another or couldn’t get far away from each other is clear; yet, there are a million reasons to go. However, the only thing that keeps people in relationships like this is fear and fear alone.
Of course, fear comes with different faces.
But me . . .
I’m not afraid of the same things anymore.
I am not someone who can say that everything I touch turns to gold.
However, not everything turns to shit either.
I have successes.
I have moments that are noteworthy. I have accomplishments and achievements. I have moments that I can look back upon, such as an afternoon in the sun, laying poolside, and watching the sun go down later that day with the most beautiful woman I have ever known or seen.
I can say that I have heard the victory of a beautiful whisper and I can say that I have had my hand in the hand of another woman’s and while, admittedly, it has taken me decades to feel certain things or to allow myself to be open and vulnerable, I can say that I have seen pictures of me with the most beautiful girl, and I could tell what I was thinking about because of the look on my face.
This took decades for me to achieve.
I am not a picture person. I have never been comfortable with what I look like in pictures. To be honest, I am not comfortable hearing the sound of my voice or watching the playbacks of some of my lectures or presentations.
But there is one out there of me “and her” and this is beautiful.
I have been my own worst enemy for as long as I can remember. I am my own worst critic. I am far tougher on myself than people would imagine, and, no, this is not fair. Yes, I am sure this is all trauma based and, of course, these self-degrading policies are internal and linked to something called thinking errors, or unhealthy biases, and cognitive distortions.
This needs to change.
like, now . . .
Safe to say that I am beyond the midway point in my life.
Safe to say that I am in the fourth quarter, at least somewhere. I understand that no one knows the hour or the day, not the angels in Heaven and not even The Son.
Only the Father knows.
If this is so, then I have some things to face before I make my next move.
Therefore, if I am to achieve and to make my way towards the best damned ending of all times, and if I am to write the great American novel, or if I am to avoid the sadness of resentful lonesomeness or, at worst; if I am to be put out to pasture, like some old man who sits and drools on himself in some old folk’s home, then I have to make some changes and adjust my settings.
Right here.
Right now.
I have accepted the fact that my plans have changed. I have accepted the fact that due to circumstances beyond my control, my life did not turn out to be the way I had hoped—at least not yet.
I lost a friend a few weeks back. He chose to find himself at the end of his own life in a gruesome way.
I have seen enough losses.
However, I have met enough people who have showed me that anything is possible, even for someone like me, tattooed and crazy, wild as ever, but older and calmer than when I was younger and capricious, or stupid and immature.
Maybe I went down for a spell. Maybe I lost the love of my life, for the moment. Or maybe the chapter is about to turn and maybe the horizon has something almost as beautiful as the most loving eyes and smile that I have ever seen.
No one can stop me from achieving glory,
only me.
And I might not know the hour or the day.
But I know that I have more to do and more to say.
My end is not in sight, at least not as far as I know.
Therefore, maybe today is just the beginning.
(At least I hope so.)
Blessed Father,
Teach me the benefit of forgiveness. Show me ways to appreciate the simple things, like when the sun comes up above the Hudson and the sunlight from the east gives the Downtown scene the light of hope.
Let me feel this.
Let me feel the warmth I felt when I saw a morning, better than ever.
Let me set the mark as high as the heavens so that when my angel comes to me, she will know that I am a man and, yes, I am imperfect.
But she is the queen. She is the like the light of the sun.
She is the warmth of summer and the blessing of the firelight which comes from the fireplace of a winter’s night in my dreams.
And to you R.O.
I’m going to spend a few more days on this.
But, look, see?
Even after you passed, you still inspire me to think and improve.
I am not always a good man.
But I’m not so bad either.
I have good things . . .
I think the problem is they go overlooked or taken for granted.
Know what I mean?
And, so—
If it’s up to me,
then it’s up to me, which means no one is going to save my life for me . . .
but me. . .
That’s my job.
That’s all I’ve got
(for now).
The Written Addiction 