Maybe this is just me rambling. Or maybe this is a rant.
Or maybe I’ve been inspired to get back to my hopes and dreams and perhaps this is a call for me to get back to the work I love.

I used to tell people that I have two jobs.
One job pays my bills.
The other job pays my heart.
I think I like that explanation.

I’ve always wanted to create my own position in the mental health industry.
Why not? I’m crazy too.

Waves come in to hit the shore.
I love it this way, the beach in the wintertime, and the cold air, the blue sky and the bright sun, which is high and full but the winds are cold—but not to me.

No, I suppose this is the warmest place I can think of.
The beach in wintertime . . .
The gulls fly overhead and the waves seem to echo, like the sound of something revolving which, to me, I see this as Mother Earth’s breathing in and out, up and down, like the chest of the world filling as she inhales, and going down as Mother breathes out.

I call this journal Random, Aimless and Unplanned because I have no agenda. I just write what’s on my mind or from the gut, so they say.
My entries are more of a subconscious flow. This means I’m not thinking about what I’m saying. I’m not worrying about the critics or their meaningless opinions or am I thinking about the judges, who have no right to judge, or the people who throw stones in glass houses and wonder about the draft.

I have nothing to prove to anyone, least of all anyone who looks to criticize or compare me to others. Rather than suffer from intimidation or let my words become muffled by intimidation, I come here to let myself go.

The bottom line is you have to live. There really is no secret.
You have to do this because there really is no other choice.
Well, maybe there is another choice but what kind of life is that?

There are two kind of lives–the life you want and the life you have.
I know what I want. And I know that I want to live.
I have to do this.
I have to do this by any means necessary.
We all do.

First light appears in the Sunday morning sky, and I am new again.
I am brand new in fact. Nothing about me is the same as yesterday.
Or perhaps I should say that in the hands of the Universe,
nothing about today is the same as it was.

There is a dream I have that has been reoccurring since my early youth. The dream itself is neither odd nor haunting but more, this dream occurs whenever change is on the way.
I am a boy in this dream and as small as I was when this dream happened for the first time, which was not so much of a dream as it was a memory of something that occurred when I was small.
I remember . . .
This took place at the birth of winter, just before the cold weather dipped below freezing.
The dream is simple and beautiful and with a sense of solace and griefless regard, I consider this both mournful and without mourning. More to the point, I see this as a symbolic gesture from within, ever reminding me that there is a spirit of something within me, building, and growing bigger.

Who would have thought that I would be here, as in where I am now, or more to the point, who would have thought that I would make it this far?
Go figure . . .
But I have to say it
Age —
It’s a funny thing.
I think about the stories from my youth. I think about the authority figures, the doctors, or people in higher positions at work. I look back at them and then I think about how old they seemed to me.
And they still do, seem old, I mean.

It’s been a while since I opened up to you like this. Or perhaps I should explain this to you differently. I understand that letters from me to you, as in myself, do not come the same as they used to. Then again, nothing is the same as it used to be.
This is me.
Just saying.

This is a letter to “self” or, in other words, this is me talking to you so that I can keep an open line of communication because I need to believe. I have to.
Besides, I’d rather believe and trust the process or try and do something, rather than let the sands of time slip away, and do nothing so I lose everything.
I’m sorry.
I just can’t do that.

It is far from me now, the times of tomorrow,
and the dreams or the wheels that are in motion and yes,
I am far from where I had hoped to be. But I’m on my way.
I know I am.

It’s far now, as far as physical distance may be.
Or perhaps the distance between me and “it”
or the space between you and I
which is only a matter of relativity.
(In theory, of course)