I will say that there’s an art to the way we live. And to each their own, or at least I think this is what people say.
We all have our ways. We all have our own little quirks and personal fashion. I can say that yes, although we’re perfectly unique and individual; there’s a branch of commonality that links us closer together.
There’s the way we think which may be different for reasons that number higher than our minds can count. At the same time, I offer a moment of truth here. I offer the hope to link us together with a certain special understanding that we can all relate to.
I offer this with hopes that we can find a common ground because even if people go on their own separate ways, at least we can come to an understanding about the internal voice (which everybody has) and at least we can come to a conclusion that our thought machine is not always operating to its best potential.

The following is a bit of uncomfortable truths; however, in the efforts to answer the question, truth is exactly what this entry calls for. So, in the ideas of love or in the mention of what love is or if love is real; my answer is yes.
Of course love is real. But where does love begin?
Where does this come from and who teaches us what love is?

Come to think of it, back in the early days of my so-called romantic career, I remember an eighth grade science teacher who told me, “There’s a reason why they call them crushes.”
He told me, “They call them that because that’s what happens to you.”
“You get crushed!”

Maybe the goal is to defy your fears every day.
Maybe fears alone are not so bad. Maybe this is just a case of the mind looking out for us.
To keep us safe. . .
And that’s fine.
Maybe the fears of being hurt or being lost; or maybe the worries we have are only intended to be protective. Maybe this is all precautionary or a reminder, to warn us of the holes in our path so that we don’t fall, or so we don’t trip, or slip on the ice and fall through the cracks.
Maybe this is it, no?

One thing’s for sure. We have to make this very real. When I say “this,” I mean our plans for the future.
Know what I mean?
This means we have to plan ahead. We have to make our goals realistic and attainable; otherwise, we can lose sight of our reward system and then find ourselves asking, “What’s the point?”

The one thing I know about life is that everyone lives it. Everyone goes through something and, essentially, the one thing I know about life is everybody is recovering from something.
Everyone has a past and a secret; but more, everyone has had to face adversity of some kind. It would be inaccurate to look at someone and believe their life has been absolutely untouched or untarnished.

To each their own, of course.
Not everyone’s adversity is the same. Not everyone experiences life on the same level.
No, we all have our own personal casualties and tragedies and my problems might seem luxurious to someone else. Better yet, my complications are only a challenge to me.

There is a saying that Moms always know best . . .
Maybe this is true; however, I’m not sure if all moms know best. But I am sure that moms have ways of saying things that stay with us for a very long time.
The world has certainly undergone some changes since Mom has been around.
I know this.

Now, before moving onward, I am going to ask if I can appeal to your emotional side.
My request is simple. Then again, my request is that you try and feel the words I’m offering. Try to picture life. As we endure the descriptions of our memory, I am going to ask that you feel this internally and allow this to open up to you as a vision of hope. My intention is to offer this: Hope and love and the truth of our very existence.

I was in a roomful of people with different credentials and letters after their name. Each person in the room had a position in a field that I was hoping to enter. Each person had school behind them. All of them had more than one degree. And then there was me. There was no title. There were no letters after my name.
What the hell was I thinking?
First, I was thinking that anything I said on the matter of mental health would be dismissed. I was called a “specialist” yet this meant that I was mainly part of a project and brought in as a person with “lived” experience.

And here we are again. (Aren’t we?)
We’re on the verge of a decision. We’re on the verge of fear and dealing with the problems of what comes with indecision.
We’re in the purgatory of emotions and thoughts.
Here we are again, unsure, hopeful, wondering, wishing that something would just happen already, like an answer perhaps, or maybe a sign or something, anything, anything at all that would make the challenge of our heart be settled and fine. 

Here we are again, sleepless yet dreaming, hopeful yet doubtful; thus, here we are caught in a womb-like place where the world is on the outside yet there’s this emotional dilemma of being on the outside looking in.

The truth is life is a journey. Along the way, we are going to find new discoveries. We are going to learn, change our mind and update our thinking.
We are going to meet people and see new things. We are going to live each day being a new chance at a new life. This is true for all of us. However, perspectives will vary and so will our levels of optimism.

Not everyone will see the light at the end of the tunnel and not everyone will come to the understanding that life is always unraveling. Life is a lesson and a mix of experience and actions.
However, not everyone sees life as a streaming form of grand opportunities.

I understand that life can take on a robotic appeal. Maybe it’s work. Maybe it’s a routine. Maybe it’s a lack of drive or purpose. Maybe life can seem pointless; as if there’s nothing big or bright; as if the glimmer to all the flashiness becomes dull or faded.

Back on the farm, it was just before Christmas and all the members of the house gathered to watch a special movie. We were all together in the main room to watch a movie called Boys Town.
To be clear, I was never into old movies or black and white films. At best, the only black and white shows I’d watch were some of the old sitcoms like The Honeymooners or maybe I Love Lucy.
For the most part, I was far from a movie buff and far from interested in an old film that I could never relate to.
However, in this case and, as usual, I was wrong again.