This thought is written to provide a guided meditation. The script is to be read and then mastered by yourself. But first, you have to see it . . .
It’s daybreak and the sun is a bright orange yolk about to break the horizon. It’s a new day now. Everything that has come before is gone and washed away.
Are you ready? 

I go back to what my friend told me. . .
He was talking about successful people. He was telling me about people who strive in the gym or people who train in Jiu-Jitsu. He said something that was obvious and simple yet, so poignant and true. He told me a black belt is actually a white belt that never gave up. This is a person who rolled through the same moves, over and over again, until the body knew what to do without the mind’s input. 

So, keep pushing is what he told me. 

I miss music. Wait, no. I think I need to be more specific on this one. I miss live music. I miss shows. I miss going to a place from my younger years known as Mulcahey’s. I miss the bands that would play and the people I’d see. I even miss the promises I’d make to myself, to leave early so that I could wake up the next day and get to work on time. I’d make it to work on time, or just barely. But I never left early.

I don’t know. When was the last time I walked through Central Park? Or, when was the last time I walked through The Museum of Natural History? Or better yet, when was the last time I went to The Hayden Planetarium? It seems like it’s been forever. I think I have a plan. This involves an escape and a childish need to skip class and beat the responsibilities of everyday life.
Then again, I was never much for school and then again, I was never much for planning trips on the days when I would skip. Perhaps my intentions and motivations were different. Or, maybe it’s safer to say that my bank account is different now and so are my means of transportation.
I think now would be different though. In fact, I think if I were to plan a day to skip town or play hooky and “Cut class,” so to speak, I can think of a few ideas that come to mind.

Sure, I was bullied. The worst of it was more than the bullying itself. The worst part of bullying are the remnants of what was said or done. The aftermath was the killer for me. I had to live with the shame, the guilt and the regret that I was unable to protect myself. The worst are the conversations we have in our head after the event takes place. This is what makes matters worse because next, we relive the insults and keep them fresh like a picked scab that never heals.
And dig it, I know that no one wants to talk about this. I see this all the time. Nobody wants to hear about this, which is why bullying goes on. But “Ah, they’re just kids being kids,” right?
Wrong. This is only their training grounds because I have met more bullies in Corporate America than on the playground or in the locker room at school.