They call this a race. Maybe some people call this a rat race. Maybe others call this the human race but of course, there are people around who say, “Nice guys finish last,” which I suppose maybe this might be true. Or maybe this is because nice guys aren’t trying to win. But who knows?

Maybe nobody knows the answer, which is why we look to act as if we know. We try to act as if we have the answer but me, I know I don’t have the answers. I don’t know too much about a race. As a matter of fact, if this is a race; I’m not even sure what we are racing towards. Last I checked; most races run in specific directions. There is a start and a finish. And to me, I’m not sure that I’m in a rush to finish or face the finality of “The End.”

I began a search. This started a long time ago when I was very small. I was young but I grew along the way. Then again, anything which happened before now is something that happened when I was younger. Either way, I learned and I matured. I started this life in my tiny vessel called a body. And this too has grown and I too have matured. Along the way, I found things. I’ve collected ideas and memories.

Along the way, I’ve looked around to incorporate the flashy substances in life. I looked for things that sets us apart or allows us to glow for one another — or beam, like an unmistakable light or beacon that allows us to stand out and be beautiful. I have learned about light and the absence of life. I have learned about the fears of the dark and the absence of understanding, which in turn is what leads us to the age old question; are we afraid of the dark or the unknown of what’s in it?

There was a hike that took place on the side of a mountain a few years back. I was away from most of the world. The trail was in the woods and the air was hot. The sun was in its early stages and the sunlight was filtering through the leaves in the tall trees. My backpack was packed too heavy. My body was out of shape to say the least. All I kept thinking was “How much farther do we have to go?” on a walk that seemed endlessly uphill.

They say you catch more bees with honey—or is it more flies?
Or does the point have nothing to do with flies or bees at all?
Be nice, they say. Be you, they tell us. But does anyone offer this?

As I sit with my dog, I am thinking about a line taken from Mark Twain that reads:
“Man is the only animal that blushes — or needs to.”
I am thinking about the wholesomeness of his love, my dog, and the way he looks at me. He is an old dog. He does not run or jump the way he used to. In most cases, he has special needs, which means we have to help him.

Like humans, my dog has good days and bad—and there are times when I look at him and see the expression of love in his eyes. All he wants is attention. He has no ulterior motive. It doesn’t matter if I look good or bad. It doesn’t matter if I earned a promotion at work or if I find myself on the unemployment line. I could even smell bad or have bad breath and yet, to my dog, there is literally nothing undesirable or unsightly about me.

I am not too sure when this happens. I don’t know when it is or if this is something that happens and one day, we open our eyes and there it is, the first gray hair. I don’t know when age happens — at least, not really. When do we cross the line from youth to adulthood? Is there such a thing? Is there an imaginary line that we step over and that’s it? It’s too late. I know people who have been adults since childhood. At the same time, I know people who look to relive their old high school glories because they never grew up.

 There was a time before machines and applications. There was a time when I was much younger with the entire world on my mind. I was armed with nothing else but a deck of playing cards and a game of solitaire. I learned this game from when I was sick and hospitalized. I have no real memories from this time. I was very young and the name of whatever sickness I had was more of an adult word than something an 8 year-old would understand.
I have pictures or perhaps flashes of me in a hospital room. I sickly and tired and wondering if this was my fault or if “God” was mad at me for something.
As a matter of fact, I tried to make a few deals with God. I tried bargaining but the needles kept coming. And man, did they hurt!
Anyway, this is when I learned how to play solitaire. I was able to distract myself—or better yet, I was able to lose myself in the different color codes of red and black and how to organize the cards.

I think now is a good time that we have a little talk. I wasn’t going to do this here because I’m never too sure if we are ever alone—or at least, really alone. But at risk of exposure, I thought twice about this and yes, this is the right place. 
I think the only approach is the humble one, which in my case; this is me, here and now. What I am about to expose or explain is something that comes from the heart—and while I admit this is raw and perhaps somewhat uncomfortable or perhaps it is too much for some people to expose one’s self honestly, it doesn’t have to be uncomfortable or strange. This doesn’t have to be uncomfortable at all, but yet, I get it. Bright light exposes darkness. And sometimes, it’s bright . . .