I go back to a walk I never expected to take on a coast I never thought I would see. I go back to the beach and the sign on the hills, which said, “Hollywood.”
I go back to the way the Pacific looked and how the sun felt upon my skin. I think of this trip and the doors it opened. I think of its consequences and the doors which closed behind me. But I was fine with this.

You and I have talked about this before but I think it’s important that we talk about it again.

The word “Friend”
Remember?

A friend is a feeling. It’s a person. It’s a relationship that helps us find balance in this crazy thing we call life.
A friend is a source of comfort.  It’s a meaningful name that either puts a smile on your face or a feeling in your heart.
That’s what a friend is.

I want to find myself somewhere (with you) now, beside a tree I once knew in a different life. I was younger then. But of course you already knew that. Everything that happens to us before now is something that happened when we were younger. This means we are constant. We will always be constant (So help me God) so long as as we believe this way, we will always be allowed to grow.

I want find myself here (with you) beside this tree on a hill at a place where I store my memories. I was young at the time. The hill was behind a big main house on a farm I once knew. The tree was not so much unlike any other. The tree is just a tiny part of this place. But yet, at the same time, this tree is symbolic of something so much bigger.

Everyone has a dream . .  .
The way I see it
there is only one thing between us and our dreams.
That is the beast within.
And everyone has a beast within them

Everyone has that inner monologue
That inner demon
That’s the beast I was telling you about

My beast speaks too
He whispers . .
But I know it’s him,
which is why he changes his dialect.
I swear this is to trick me,
My beast changes the way he speaks,
always disguising himself,
always trying to make me guess myself,
and always looking to maintain my attention
so I won’t look anyplace else.

And sometimes . . .
Sometimes I listen to the crazy laugh of my inner animal.
Every wonder why the devil never dresses himself in anything fancy?

It’s so you never see him coming . . .

And the moon was full. The air was cold, like the kind that makes your breath smoke when you breathe in and out. The farm was quiet and the hour was early, —it was the time before the rest of the world wakes up. I recall these early morning runs. I recall the moonlight beaming down across the pastures. I remember the mountains around me and the sight of the bog old red barn.

Did I ever tell you why I like the rain?
The reason comes from a memory I have from when I was a small boy. The Old Man was in the backyard trying to build a shed. It was the kind of day when I could tell The Old Man had something on his mind. He was quiet in times like this. His eyebrows crunched downward and his head pushed forward.

I once told you that sound is something that gives depth to our memory. Even the tiny memories from our youngest mind can be triggered by the sound of something familiar.
For example, I was too young to remember much, but my Grandmother had a bungalow somewhere upstate when I was very small.
I have tiny pictures of this in my head that I can only link to little fragments of memory, —but if ever I hear a small single engine airplane flying in the sky, somehow, I go back to this memory I have from that time in a large field with tall grass, the grass almost golden tan in color, topped with thistles, and half-bent and moving in the direction of the wind.
I associate this with the sound and feels of summer.
I associate this with warmth and although most of the details from that time are only fragments—the sound from a small plane reminds me of then. And I’m not sure why. I’m not sure what the significance is. I suppose this is what I heard at the time. I suppose that without the sound, this memory would only be two-dimensional. But add sound and the memory has a third dimension.

I was never one to be able to describe my understanding of God, least of all, I never had that yearning to understand a man behind the pulpit, preaching The Word, and meanwhile, with religion being what it is and creating different forms of righteousness; I never felt a strong association with any religion.

If for no other reason, do it for yourself.
If for no other reason, stand up now while there’s time to make a change. Take a step forward.
Do it now before the excuses come.

Think about this . . .
If there was a way you could start your entire life over, what would be the first thing you would do?
What would you get rid of?
What would you keep and what would you leave exactly as it is?

It was only a few minutes after they sat me down on a hard wooden bench when the realization set in. This was me. I was back in a place I never wanted to revisit.
I was handcuffed to a metal pie which ran beneath the bench and sat between two different types of drunks. To my right was a tall, thin, and lanky black man, feminine as could be and drunk, and complaining on a frequent basis that his handcuffs were on too tight. To my left was another man, heavyset and equally feminine, often echoing his co-defendants plea about his handcuffs being too tight. I was between them and when a brief pause of silence came to the scene, I quickly became aware of what I had done.