This is not to say that my admiration for things has changed. Nor is this to say that I have changed so much that my appreciation for the people from “back in the days,” are any different from when I was young.
I still have love in my heart.
I know I do.
In fairness, I believe that love is the best and most heroic emotion that we have.
Scary. Amazing.
Highs and low, lows.
But nothing is better than the feel of love or love in the heart.
This is the real fountain of youth.
I am still young in some ways. I am also old. And I am too old sometimes.
I have aged and while I have changed to some degree, I have not changed or moved far away from my truth or the truth in my heart.
I don’t want to be scared anymore.
I don’t want to be worried if I will be picked last or be afraid that I will never be picked at all.
I am open to the ideas that were taught to me, long ago, in a small classroom.
This means I am open to sharing or playing fair and, of course, don’t hit or say mean things.
I am open to holding hands when you cross the street and to put this mildly, I am certainly open to nap time, somewhere around midday, and waking up to a nice snack with something to drink.
Cookies always do the trick.
I am open to take turns. I am open to a daily story time about happiness or happy endings about people who found their way beyond the turmoil and lived happily ever after.
I am open to breaking the monotony of the bullshit daytime drama.
I am open to removing the so-called schoolyard from the everyday bullies so we can play without worry.
I am open to the breakdown of social status or status itself and to move onward, I would love to welcome different ways to add more fun or laughter to our everyday life.
I say that our days in the sandbox were the early years of our social training. These were the days when our interactions began. This is when we learned about our differences.
This is when we learned about the wealth of our toys or the lack thereof.
I often think about the story of Adam and Eve and how they ate the fruit from the tree of knowledge.
They never knew they were naked.
I can see how this spoils us.
They never knew they had to hide themselves, at least not before. If they had never eaten or given in to the temptation of the serpent, they would have never tasted the fruit of knowledge and never known what it means to be naked or exposed.
I often think about the quote from Mark Twain:
“Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.”
I think about ego and our attachment to titles, labels, and the ever-changing ideas about our identity.
I think about my connection to rejection. Also, I think about the times when I was not picked or chosen or wanted.
I think about our dysfunctions of social comparison. Do you understand?
Does any of this make sense to you?
I think about how we seem to compare us to others, unfairly and unjustly so.
What does this do for us?
To what avail?
I think about the way kids used to be, or how brutal it can be to not fit the physical best.
I think about how it was to assume that you are somehow less-than because you are not tall enough or fit enough.
I further reject the social and commercialization of beauty and I heartily join the claim that, of course, beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder.
And so behold. There she is.
My beauty!
I reject the bullied mottos or the put downs from those who attempt to punish or look to shame someone for liking who they like. I reject the insecurity of being different or liking or being attracted to different things.
I believe that we need to adjust our social teachings. I believe that beauty is easily found anywhere and that if the truth should be told, I believe that people are inherently lazy. I believe this is true.
People fail to look deeper than the surface or the superficial levels of what beauty is supposed to be.
We are spoon-fed an inaccurate madness yet, we swallow mouthfuls of lies without ever questioning the truth.
Do you know what beauty is?
I don’t know what this means to you.
But I know what beauty is to me.
Beauty is being a kid and running through the sprinklers in summertime.
Beauty is a nighttime ride on a Ferris wheel while sitting next to your love, or your biggest crush, and holding hands in the sweetest way possible.
Beauty is an evening at some local carnival and tasting cotton candy.
Beauty is a walk on the beach or a long walk somewhere that puts ease in your soul.
My beauty has curves and sways, and she has a figure that is perfect for me.
I think beauty is the smell of someone you love, as in the smell of their hair or their skin.
I love this.
I love how this leads us to a connection, as if to believe that this person was made just for me.
And I was made just for her.
How could anything be more beautiful?
No one else matters and certainly, no one’s opinion about what we share, think, feel or do with each other is important.
Not to me.
Beauty is what I have seen in my life, yet I have seen so much and taken way too much for granted.
Beauty is the painted toenails on the girl you love.
I think sunflowers are beautiful too. So are ladybugs.
And so is the red from the feathers of a cardinal and their supposed meaning or spiritual representation.
I say it is beautiful to believe in fairy tales, and yes, even at my age, there are times when I love to hear how “they lived happily ever after.”
This is good, especially after two have seen, felt and shared far too much turmoil.
Yet, they somehow endured and fate and destiny rewarded them for this.
Hence, they lived happily ever after.
I don’t want much.
I really don’t.
But what I want is something that I want for the rest of my life, which is simple.
I want to see a few shows. I want to find my forever dance partner.
I want to have “my person” by my side and at the end of my days, when I look back at what I have lived through, I want to see you/her as the love of my life. I want her at my bedside and think to myself, “Goddam, what a ride!”
I want this ride to be worth it.
I want to see my sunsets and regard to myself how Louis Armstrong was right.
And I think to myself, “What a wonderful world.”
Sleep well, Mr. Armstrong.
I know there will be bumps in the road.
I know there will be days when I shake my first at the sky,
but I know that you are right, sir.
It is a wonderful world.
Nothing is more beautiful.
I know it or as you said at the ed of your song . . .
Oh yeah. . .
The Written Addiction 