I received a call on a Monday night from a nurse about my Mother. I was at work at the time. I was on an overtime shift. I was tired in every sense of the word. My mind was tired. My body was tired and so was my soul. I had life things going on. I had responsibilities that needed my attention and list of bills that needed to be paid. Work was busy and life was busy. Everything was busy at the time.

There are two branches of government here. The first branch is anxiety and the second is Panic. The two interact.
They create a sensory overload and mental chaos. The chest tightens, and it’s hard to breathe. 
The heart races like a thousand angry horses, charging fast, and you can’t escape. You can’t get away.
Suddenly, it’s like the whole goddamned world is closing in on you, which becomes more frightening because you are vulnerable; you scream or you cry, and more than anything, you just want to jump out of your own skin. More than anything, you want everything to stop so you can calm down. The only problem is the harder you try to recover, the worse the symptoms become.

I have been walking around the city for decades now. I see different people from different places doing different things. I see the changes we’ve made as a society and the changes I’ve made within me. I see the Kamikaze taxis weave down the avenues and watch the mindless tourists along 42^nd. St with their eyes wide open, looking up, and totally amazed by the tall building and the lights from Times Square.

I was somewhere around 19 when I landed my first the first suit and tie job. I was an entry-level salesman in the garment business. And when I say entry-level, I mean the I was at the lowest of the low of the industry.
I sold identification items, which, in less-than-fancy terms are the little labels sewn in the collar that irritate the back of your neck. This was my first real job. Although the item was necessary, it was still at the bottom of the priority list. I pitched the production managers garment manufacturers to sell them and create a new relationship, which was tough at best.

There are things I believe in life and I believe them, not because I was told to but because I have found them to be true. I believe music is essential. I think at one point, everyone needs to dance or at least drive a long drive with the windows down and the volume to a favorite song turned all the way up. I think we need to scream the lyrics in our best out-of-tune pitch.

Back as a kid, The Old Man used to have a Ford, Mustang fastback. He told us sometimes, you just have to open up the gas and let her rip. I feel this way too. Sometimes, we just need to open up and belt out a scream. Sometimes, we need to know we’re alive.

 It all begins now—
It starts right now, as if today is the first day of the rest of your life.

In a short while, I am going to bundle up and put on sweats, a hat, pull up my head, and then I will step out into the January air and walk the hills in my town. I will look at the scene around me and take in the first fresh breath of the year. And then it all begins . . .

The dream takes place in one of my previous homes.  It is early morning and at the birth of sunrise. I am standing at the front door on stoop of my old home at a place called Rowehl Drive.
Looking across from me is an old tree that stands in the section of grass that runs between the street and the sidewalk.
The tree is old, mainly empty of leaves, and partially dead but partially alive as well.
I used to see this old tree on a daily basis. I admired the tree. I depended upon it to be there, to stand there, and to remain there regardless to people and their opinions, and to endure there, regardless to the storms that came our way.

The problem isn’t the thought; the problem comes when thinking overwhelms the mind. Suddenly, the outside influences penetrate the mind. They seep in and infect the system. Next the defense mechanisms kick in. The  fear takes hold and the survival machine moves into position.
The problem is not the thought. The problem is the outside has seeped inside. The problem is the uncontrollable sources of people places and things have taken hold. The problem is the uncontrollable has become in control and then the mind loses control.

There used to be a graffiti sprayed on a construction partition over on 46^th Street near Madison Avenue that said, “This moment is more precious than you think.” I used to see this when I would drive in on Saturday mornings, earlier than the sunrise, and I always noticed the words which hit home.

I swear we take too much for granted. Take this day for example. Today is Christmas Eve. Today marks the evening of a great day. This is a day of giving. This is a day of family. This is a time when all are gathered together and trust me; this moment is more precious than you think.

There is a very real and very tough thing that happens when we think too much. Suddenly, the world closes in and everyone can see or “Everyone knows,” those inner secrets, everyone can see the pains, which are only apparent to us, and the weakness is obvious, the thoughts are like poison, or more like cancerous, and then the anxiety machine in our head spins into overdrive.