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About Breaking The Vow

There are defining moments in life that are more than just defining. They are undeniable, They are the moments that we can never get back or retrieve again.

This makes them all the more priceless. These are the days of our youth. These are the times of our life. These are the moments, like say, the first time we were on a bicycle and realized we were doing this all by ourselves. These are the moments when we saw something so profound, like Mom and Dad standing together when they were young. These are the memories we carry with us. This is what shapes us. This is what makes us who we are and helps defines who we become. 

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Here’s a Little Bit of Free Thinking This Morning

This is somewhat a bit of an abstract theme. What I mean to say is this is only an exercise and so from here on, I will write in a stream of consciousness. There will be no rules. No form. And more importantly, no excuses or explanations. No, this is from me.
This will be from the inside and with no apologies. I will see this as a means to clean house  — and by house, I mean the one upstairs inside my head.

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About Grief

There is one lesson that I’ve learned which has been helpful to me. And this lesson comes after years of living with my own losses. This comes after me finding a sense of recovery, which has been ongoing after the loss of my Father and then certainly after the loss of my Mother. I have lost friends and relatives. I have seen death, up close and personal. and through it all; I have learned that above all, grief is very personal. It is not my place nor is it my right to compare my grief or suppose that mine is worse or better. Grief is grief and loss is loss. Period. End of sentence.

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About the Nightmares (The Drug Dreams)

I try not to entertain the old thoughts. I don’t give them much room nor do I welcome the old dreams, but yet, they still come. I have them. The drug dreams, which haunt me sometimes.
This is why I never tell war stories. This is why I never glorify the old life because first, that person wasn’t really me and second, there is no reason to glamorize or glorify a lifestyle that does nothing except destroy. 

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Let’s Call This One “Freedom”

Negativity is the enemy of creativity . . .
Ever hear this before? I have. I’ve probably heard this more times than I could imagine. But yet, sometimes we hear things and other times, we hear the meaning.
I heard this comment yesterday as if I had never heard this before. Yet still, the quote stuck with me. Negativity is the enemy of creativity.
I thought about this during a mild bout with anxiety and insomnia. I thought about the various enemies that hold us back, I thought about my thoughts and ideas that can become burdensome or problematic. I thought about the feelings and changes we go through both internally and externally. There is life in front of us all. We all live with this.

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Here’s a Little Politics for Ya: Sad but True

Be advised that yes, not everyone plays a fair game. Not everyone shares or is willing to take turns. In fact, there are people that look to take more than just their share. There is a “Me first” mentality in this world, and for the record, I see no reason to deny this. I see no reason to pretend like this does not exist. Instead, I prefer an honest assessment. I prefer a true inventory because as long as I am being honest, this allows me the ability to see the difference between things within my control and things that are not. 

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I Hear They Call it “Inner Peace”

There is a true phenomenon that takes place when we live in the conversations in our mind. First, we take on the energy of these conversations. Next, we take on the emotion of these conversations, and finally, we become these conversations. This can go in either one of two ways. Either we think ourselves sick or we encourage ourselves to become strong.
The thought machine is an interesting place to be.
See, all the positive affirmations in the world and all the intellectual thinking does not exclude us from emotional truth, which is thought uses energy. Our thinking can be like a loose thread that unravels and becomes haywire. Thoughts can cause us to have that emotional avalanche; in which case I mean, one thought can lead to another idea, which trickles into another and snowballs into something uncontrollable.
This is life while caught in the thought machine.

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As For The Laws . . .

When I listen to people talk about punishment or the penalties with regards to crimes, especially crimes of violence or crimes that involve substance abuse or any abuse for that matter, I often wonder if people fail to realize that punishment is not always a deterrent.
Keep in mind, I say this while thinking about some of the people I have met throughout my life. To them, time is just time. And to them, whether their time is spent in places like Rikers or Otisville, Sing Sing, Downstate, Federal or in a State facility and out of state or otherwise, to them, there is no worry or regard for the law.

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About the Art of Sound

I swear what I am about to tell you is true. Not only is this true but more than being true now, this has been true for as long as man or woman has been able to create sound.

The truth is sometimes nothing speaks to us (or for us) better than music. Sometimes, the rhythm is the only thing that makes sense. The music, the notes, the flare of emotion, which I can feel when the guitar strings play. When there are no words, to me, music is something that makes sense. 

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A Mild Bout (with insomnia)

I find myself awake at times and on the couch. I find myself moving in different directions of thought. Take last night, for example. There I was on the couch, listening to the rain as it fell against the skylights on my rooftop. I hear this like a thousand footsteps; as if the raindrops fall in teams of countless soldiers on a mission, which is perfect though, because the rainfall somehow matches the way I feel.
The truth is I don’t mind the rain so much. I don’t mind the storms, which keep the streets empty and vacant from man or woman. I like the quiet sounds and the grayness in the sky. I call this the lullaby of all lullabies. However, last night, there was no rockabye baby from the treetops. The wind blew but no cradle did rock. No, I suppose there weren’t enough sheep to count last night. at least, not for a while.

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