So, What’s it Gonna Take?

I wonder what it would take to be young again. 
Or if at all, I wonder if this is possible?

I wonder if this is even possible. I wonder what it would feel like to regain that sort of resilience that only comes when you’re young enough to believe in a million tomorrows.  
I wonder.

I wonder when it was that the plethora of opportunities dwindled away like a vanishing thread that once held me together and kept me hopeful.
It’s strange to think about this.
Isn’t it?
Years pass.
Wait, no. Decades go by and somehow, I have turned around to look and see where I was, or where I’ve been. And here I am now, wondering what the hell happened for us to get to this point?
Wasn’t it just this time last year and somehow, a year has gone by.

I swear, I think there’s a way to pull this off. In fact, I know there is.
I know there’s a way to think, be, and feel young again. And strongly, I advise that this has more to do with the company we keep. I think moods and feelings can be contagious. Therefore, same as the saying suggests that misery loves company, then I have to believe that happiness loves company too.

I want to be young again.
I don’t want to reverse the clock or anything that reality cannot offer me.
No.
I want to create my own youthfulness and be younger than ever before, even as I grow older, I want my heart to stay younger.

I want to be unafraid.
I want to be brave.
I want to stand and be strong.
I want this. . .

I wonder what it would feel like to stand in my old defying pose.
Do you know what I am trying to say?
I want to stand in my old, familiar posture and face the world with an unbeatable spine that refused to bend.
I want to be constructive and rebellious at the same time.
I will refuse to quit. I will refuse to be beaten or submit.
I will be as I was when I stood tall and refused to surrender from the line that we drew in the sand.
I will not allow myself to go backwards or to fall or to fail or to weaken to the point where the world around me retreats like a weakling who was bullied into a sad submission.

I wonder if there is a fountain of youth.
Is this a real thing?

However, I want to be clear about this. I do not want to rewind or replay anything.
No, this is not my point at all.
I do not want to change me from the man that I am.
No.
I want to improve my position and feel that rescuing emotion, like the feeling of a second wind and suddenly, the hill is not too steep, and the mountain ahead is nothing more than an opportunity to climb over and be on the other side.

This is not something I want as some kind of imaginary fantasy. Not at all.
I want this more now than ever before.
But even more, I want to know if I can pull this off.
I want to know if there is a way that I can feel young again and keep this as my new and sustainable life.
I don’t want to achieve this in my head and wake up to realize that I was close, but no, it was all just a dream.
I have enough dreams.
Now is the time to make this a reality.

I want to know if I can get back to better versions of myself.
I want to feel better.
Do you get this
or am I alone?
I want to feel that sense of light and exuberance.

I want to feel that same experience, like the way it was when I was a young man and driving over the 59th Street Bridge.
I remember the billboard on the Long Island City side of the bridge.
The billboard said, “Perfection is not an accident.”
And no.
I don’t believe perfection of any kind is an accident.

I want this.

I want to be youthful enough to laugh at the people, places, and things that would otherwise frighten or intimidate me.
I want to heal the way I used to. And I do not mean this in a figurative sense or just physical level.
I want my “get-up-and-go,” to come back so that I can get up and go with it this time.

I am not looking to reset myself or change my history. Not at all.
This is not so that I could act or be as if none of what happened existed.
Quite the contrary.

I have reached an age where I realize that my experience has value and the lessons I learned add to my worth — and even more to the point, I am one who has said, “if I only knew then what I know now,” that yes, my life would be entirely different.
Well, I know now.
I don’t want to wait anymore or allow poor timing to be the culprit of my demise.

I know that my lessons have derailed me, in a sense, or that my experiences have tricked my vision.
Yes, I can see how pain has taken me off the mark.

I am not looking to change my past or erase anything.
In fact, I am looking to keep what I have so that if my trick works, and if I am able to pull this off, I will know how to enjoy every minute.

Time is fleeting.
I agree with this.
Absolutely.

I will never get a chance at this again. I will never have a day like yesterday nor will this moment last forever. Therefore, let me begin my trick now.

Let me do this right away because youth has lied to us all and told us there are a thousand tomorrows, until we woke up one day to realize that no.
Tomorrows come with an unknown number.
The hour is late.
The sands are slipping through the hourglass.
But rest assured that age shows us that tomorrow is running out of stock.
I have seen enough people die without setting their sights and reaching their goals.
To be clear, I don’t want that to be me.
Life comes to an end and safe to say, I am in the fourth quarter of my so-called life.
I am running out of time, and I am certainly running out of tomorrows.
So . . .
The time for redemption is now.
Not tomorrow.

I want to be young again.
I want to rekindle the spark that gives life the excitement.
I want to be brave like I was.
I want to be brave enough to try something new.
I want to feel like I did the first night I decided to venture into the City alone and without anyone around me to sway my opinions or influence my thinking.

I will do things differently this time.
I will play as hard as I can which is not to say that I would abandon my work.
No, quite the opposite.
I would work just as hard, if not harder, because I know that when Friday comes, I will be released on my own recognizance.
I will have my weekend pass to dance, or to yell and scream or carry on.
And I will take advantage of this and every second I have, from now on.
I promise.

If I pull this off . . .
I could live, love, laugh, and learn the way I’ve always wanted to.
I could love you more than your heart could humanly understand — and I would consume you, as in drink you, as in feast on you, as in create a waterflow of sexual desire.
I will open your floodgates beyond compare, same as how it happens when we were young enough to do things as wild as fuck on a rooftop, or sneak into a dressing room at one of the department stores — and we can do this, just to pull it off and just to say “yeah, we did that!”

I do not want anything to gather dust. I want no stone left unturned. I want to go, be and do, and I want to live wild and out loud and when the night falls, or when the dawn breaks, I want to look at the sky with a sense of accomplishment and know that I lived one hell of an outrageous life.

I want to live every second of the day and be able to go fast.
At the same time, I want to know exactly when the time is right to hit the brakes and slow down.

I remember my last walk on the beach in Fort Lauderdale. I was alone.
I was thinking about my life.
I was thinking about the sun that was coming up over the beach.
I was watching the waves roll into the shore.
I know there is hope for me.
I know it with all of my heart.

I felt the warmth from the early sun.
I felt the need to realize that life is fleeting, which means maybe it’s time that I make my move.

I understand that life is at hand.
I can say life can be impossible, at times.
I know all about the responsibilities I have.
How can I forget them?
I know about my physical and mental health, which need attention and improvement.

I walked the beach and thought about the losses behind me. I thought about the people who hurt me and yes, I thought about the people who I hurt and wounded deeply and irreparably too.

Youth . . .
I want this back.
I want to be able to stand at the beach in mid-winter, at Point Lookout, which is my sanctuary and my synagogue.
This place has history with me.
I want to face the ocean and feel the cold winds blow and mean nothing to me because I am young enough to brave and dare the world, no matter how cold it gets

Nothing can hurt me.
Cut me and I will heal.
Break me and I will reform.
Kill me and yes, I will be reborn.
That’s what I want.

I want to see the outgoing tides from my spot on the rocks at Jones Inlet.
Or I could go to the Church in town.
This is a small church with an outdoor garden with all apostles and prayer stations in front of the saints and, of course, there is the kneeling post at the statue of The Blessed Mother.
This is Mary, Herself.

I want to pray.

I offer myself to Thee, to build with Thee and to do with Thee as thou will.

Blessed Mother,
care for me.

Forgive me, for I knew not what I had done.
But I know now.
And I know that waste is a sin, so then please, let me not waste another minute.

Blessed Mother,
Let me live now before it’s too late.
Let me learn from my past.
Let me regain what I have lost.
Let me be that youthful boy who is unafraid to share, unafraid to take a turn, eager to laugh, eager to play, and eager to see a shooting star and be amazed by simple things.
Fill me with wonder and excitement.

In your name, I pray.

Don’t worry, Mom.
I learned my lesson.
I promise to play fair.
I promise to wash my hands and, of course, if you let me go out, I promise to be home in time for supper.

Oh, and hey, Mom?

Do you think you could send her a butterfly today?
She likes them.
Or maybe send her a ladybug . . .
Or maybe you could send her some kind of anonymous sign that lets her know she is more than who she thinks and that even the Heavens know she is truly an angel on earth.
(My Angel)

Thanks, Mom.
You always know when I need you.
But that’s what Mothers do.

Right?