Before getting to the trick, there was a lesson taken from a mental health first aid course that was memorable to say the least. The lesson came from a woman who broke down the 8-hour class into a four word process. She explained that our mental health is the way we live, love, laugh and learn. She called this the “4 L’s.” She explained anything that affects the way you live, love, laugh and learn is something that affects your mental health. I thought this was a brilliant explanation. In fact, I use the very same explanation in some of my own presentations.

It’s amazing how the morning comes and the sunrise can do beautiful things in the sky and I, me, or the long day ahead with all the compounded facts and misinterpretations are nothing more than a series of misunderstandings. But still, morning comes. No matter what the night before was like, good or bad, the sun rises. It’s been doing this for a really long time. The sky clears and here we are, facing another day down on Project Earth.

I remember an afternoon of my younger days and ah, the City, ah the City life, the variation of beautiful people and a walk from the Eastside to the Westside. I went from Downtown to Midtown still dressed in my outfit from the night before. I was on the verge of a new fascination or as it were, I was at the threshold of a new chapter. I was unaware that I was about to turn a page and that my life was about to unfold.
This was strange because this was on a Sunday afternoon which, to me, is a day like no other. To me, Sunday comes with shades of yellow – it’s a day in-between or better yet, Sunday is half weekend, half preparation for the week ahead and part recuperation from the long crazy nights of a man who faced his 30’s. But this particular Sunday was different.

I want to make friends with an unknown person, maybe somewhere down by the border between Texas and Mexico. Maybe we can sit somewhere and find a place to have a good bowl of soup. I can think of a thousand things like this as dreams or ideas, stories, or pieces of my next project as a work in progress. I say this because I, myself, am a work in progress. I am a body that continues to change. I am a mind that learns and grows. I am a child too. I am a dreamer in the heart of a person who is on the verge of turning 50.

It is March on Earth. Our side of the hemisphere is circling around to move closer towards the sun. Soon enough, the warmer months will lead to longer days, which I appreciate. However, there has always been a madness to me in the warmer months.
There is a strange sense of connection between the beaches and the sands and bodies who forget the oceans in the colder times. Friends out of convenience is how I view this. Of course, this is only an analogy between us.
Either way, I am here with you now. I am a person in the world. No better. No worse. I am writing this as an open letter to you, with hopes that this finds you at the perfect time. 

I had an idea for a long time but I never acted on it. I suppose my reasons are the same as why I never acted on most things that were out of my control. Safe to say that I am not alone with this.
Safe to say that my reasons why I failed to launch or resisted to dream were the same reasons why so many of us give way to the doubts in our mind.
However, in an effort to reach you (and I mean to really reach you) I would like to share a dream of mine which is slowly evolving and somehow coming to light.

Another amazing thing to notice is the dichotomy between the two halves or the wealthy and the poor. I can say the same thing with the so-called educated and the so-called uneducated.
It is amazing to me where we place our attention. For example, I noticed a celebrity walking with a big smile while passing normal everyday people near Venice Beach, California. It would appear that this person noticed that they were being noticed, which I suppose is part of their life. Of course, the celebrity was smiling. However, I watched this person walk past a homeless musician. The musician was strumming his guitar and screaming and hardly anyone paid attention to the musician. One was quiet and the other was screaming for a change. One was proud and one was humble yet, one received accolades and the other was written off as useless and unwanted.

I keep seeing things about the shutdown that took place two years ago. The world was shaken by a virus that shut everything down around this time. One thing I’ve seen which is of note is the comment that reads, “Two years ago, this was our last normal week together and nobody knew it.”
Today’s date is March 11, 2022. I am sitting across from my usual side of the country and taking notes on how to build a better mousetrap. Of course, I say this more figuratively than literally. My aim to improve are matched by my need to adapt to my surroundings. Then again, physical needs often take precedence over the needs of the mind. For example, let’s look at the way we dress. Let’s look at the importance of the external. “Optics are everything,” right?

There is no difference. My side of the country or yours. Life is still life no matter where we are. The sickness exists everywhere. I know this because I could see it in his eyes, a man I never knew or met before. He was folding down at the table inside an airport. I am on my way to create a role for myself, which is relevant because the role I’ve built is one that addresses the need for both tolerance and awareness.
Someone once told me, “What do you know about it anyway? You’ve been away a long time.”
I was told, “What do you know about this life? You got out young!”
“You were lucky,” is what I was told.