I say this enough for anyone who knows me to remember that sometimes, I like to remind myself that you have to hit the panic button. You have to blow the escape hatch and get away. You have to do this.

No ifs and no ands and no buts.

I have funny memories from when I was younger and less-responsible and, of course, I have funny memories from back when I was younger and did less-responsible things too.
I remember the times when I’d pass a little pipe around in a circle of friends to make my eyes red and expand my mental horizons by killing one million brain cells at a time.

We used to laugh about questions like, “why do people drive on the parkway and park on the driveway?”
And there were more questions like this.
However, I am far removed from that time of my life. I seldom talk about these things, unless, of course, I run into someone from my youth—but in all fairness, I never run that much at all, and I mostly keep to myself these days, which means I rarely see anyone from my past. Except for you, of course.

I suppose the question I ask myself is do I believe? Do I believe in the afterlife?
Do I believe in the spirit?
Do I believe that perhaps there’s energy out there, somewhere, and that this energy surrounds or protects me and somehow, do I believe that there is a connection between me and those who have passed away?

I always go back to what Einstein said about how energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change forms.
I can understand this.
I can see it this way because life is energy. So is memory. So are the ideas and thoughts and feelings we have, and so, I can see how we keep our friends and loved ones alive in our hearts.

I have been told that I should “put it all out there,” and give it up to the universe. I was told that I should say what I want, and that I should say this out loud, which is not so different from prayer, that is, of course, if I believe in prayer. And sometimes?
I’m not too sure.

Early morning, Monday.
I heard rain hitting the roof last night. I could hear the wind as well. I have a mind that spins with too many thoughts about the life behind me.
Then again, I have a life ahead of me, a mystery of course.
The great unknown.

Today is a good day to let go.
I swear.
It’s a good day to let go of my history. I can let go of my story and the mysteries of my past. I can say goodbye to the weights of life and the heaviness of all that needs to be dead, gone, or buried.
I can rid myself from the burdens of misused communications or I can let go of the wasteful conversations and the records from my previous fights that put me smack, dab in the middle of nowhere.

I can do this.
I can start now, as in right now, and make my way.

I suppose the real question for today is where do we stand?
Where do we stand with what happened?
Where do we stand with the unhelpful things that came after what went down?
Or, wait . . .
What are we planning to do with the unwanted past or the unhelpful ideas and memories that always bring us back or drown us in the unwanted tides of an emotional quicksand?

Where do we stand?
This is a great question.

There comes a time when you look around and you see what you see. Come to think of it, perhaps this was all obvious before, but now everything seems more present than before, because this is wake-up time.
This means there’s no more denying the obvious or looking away.
The fall was broken by the bottom of your back, and lying flat on the ground, looking up, you start to see where you tripped or fell, and how you knew that one day, this fall was both eventual and inevitable.

There comes a time when you look around you. Like now.
You see what you see, and you realize that there’s nowhere left to fall.

I don’t mind the rain. I don’t mind the storms that come out of nowhere, or the thunderstorms that rumble nor am I frightened by the lightening. I say we need them sometimes. I say the rain can be a good thing and sometimes, life builds up pressure, and sometimes the pressure is too much, and sooner or later, we all tend to explode, just like the sky.

I have talked about this for years too.
Or perhaps you might remember the story about my Old Man.

Today is a day that’s been growing for 34 years, which does not mean that today is different from any day—at least not really. There will always be a morning, noon, and night.
This will always be so.
I remember being a kid and learning how to tie my shoelaces. I remember how this was something to celebrate, except a time comes when tying your shoes becomes as simple as tying your own shoes, which means the celebration is over. The real question is, what are you going to learn today?

What’s your next goal?
What’s the next benchmark?
No one is going to clap forever . . .
right?