They called it the fish bowl. This was a meeting room behind a glass, sliding door in the rear of the cafeteria. I had no idea what this meant or why they called this room the fish bowl. I had no idea why I agreed to this place nor did I believe that any of this was beneficial for me.
I was a kid and, at best, I saw this as a move to escape the shower rapes and jailhouse beatings that would have inevitably come my way. Had I not chosen this as an option, I am not sure that I would have survived the cages and the guards and the raw viciousness of other angry men.
Notes on Building a Farm
I have lived different lives and like you, I have come to new understandings. I have grown. I have circled back. I have come to conclusions and reached new levels of awareness. I have come to the understanding that there are times when I had everything I needed, right there, in front of my face. Yet, I never knew it was me (or that it could be me) who could change or improve or be better than my expectations.
In some cases, we might call this maturity. In other cases, we might see this as lessons learned. Or, perhaps this is just life.
Maybe we think too deeply. We pick apart and overthink and no one wants the complications; yet, here we are on Project Earth. We complicate simple facts. We argue, we battle and we mix our opinions between facts and fiction.
For the Moms We’ve Lost: 04-30-22
Note: I offer this only as a version with an open heart and understanding that words cannot do justice at a time like this. However, I can say that comfort comes with the company of those we love and those who choose to gather with us are the comfort we need in times of loss. Although this entry is titled with Moms in mind; truth is truth in all realms of life. And so, with all of my heart – I offer you this.
Continue readingFrom the Daddy Diaries: An Moment of Honesty
The connection we have to it all, such as the memories, such as our feelings, such as the end result which is emotion and such as our ability to recount the times is all we have. Years will pass and our memories become part of our possessions, as if to have them folded neatly and kept away like a tiny little keepsake. And I agree, yet bitter sweet at times, these are the memories of a time that will never come again. These are the moments from whence we came.
Continue readingThe Art of Being Helpful
Patience is a virtue, or so they say. The dictionary says patience is the ability or willingness to withstand or to endure discomfort, to stay even-tempered when faced with provocation and to remain without complaint. This means patience is the ability to coexist or show tolerance. So therefore, patience is a talent. Some have it. Others, not so much.
Our ability to interact is a talent as well. There are people who support change and promote growth. They do this lovingly and wholesomely. There are people in this world who celebrate the advancement of people around them. And of course, there are other people who don’t.
Continue readingWritten from a Room I Never Thought I’d See
There was a basement I knew about when I was younger. I would hide here. I would hide away from the groups and away from the different people and the so-called friends in my so-called crazy little town. I was a suburban kid with city genes. I was all over the place. Here, there and everywhere else I could be, if you know what I mean.
At least, this is how I see it. I was someone who had starry eyes and I was unsure if this was okay. But in either case, I always knew there was something out there for me.
Waiting.
Monday Morning Motivation – 4/25/22
There is a go-ahead sign to think and be. “You should be who you are,” right? But then of course, there is the truth behind the models and the smiles and the name tags which, in fairness – I have to say it, I call bullshit.
Now, I do my best to never use profanity in my prose, especially in the first paragraph, in fear that some grammar-police critic will come along and slash the heart of my thoughts and point at every flaw. But still,
I call bullshit.
Sunday Morning, 04/24/2022
Not sure if you can see this. Or, in fairness; I am not sure if you can see what I see or feel what I feel. And yet, I know you can see the sun and the sky. I know that you can feel the return of warmth. As the warm weather returns, I am sure that you have your own connections with the springtime – and of course, you have your own connection with the summer.
Continue readingThe Mind Between Rich and Poverty
Ah the mind.
When you’re on, you’re on and when you’re great, you’re great. The mind is a place where we live and we breathe. We think and we grow or we think and we fall.
It all depends . . .
We are a sea of choices. Which one? What do we choose and oh, what happens if we choose and wish that we chose otherwise?
For example, we find ourselves in a train station and for the moment, I will use this station as a symbol of life. There are two shuttles. Both will run parallel yet both rides are completely separate experiences. One shuttle could be mild. The other shuttle could be uplifting and promising.
Or, one shuttle can be packed with people since all of us are on the move and all of us are searching for something and all of us are on the way to the other side (or whatever that means).
Abstract Prose: Truth
We wake up and we look around.
what do we see?
I often wonder if we know what we’re looking at.
I also wonder if any of this is real?
Is most of what we see an illusion?
The world. Each other. Life and liberty. The pursuit of happiness –
What are these things?
What is any of this if not an idea or lofty concept of life, which we are taught about and hope for?
I wonder.
Continue reading
The Written Addiction 