I see you. . .
It wasn’t so long ago that I was you. But yet, I have to correct myself here. I have to correct myself because I was never you and you were never me. We are both entirely different people.
I was much younger once. I can say this for sure.
I was certainly much younger than I am now. I was once a different person and in my former life, I thought differently. I lived differently and viewed things through different eyes. I was perhaps misled, but yet, I was still me. I was raw. I was unsure, frustrated, afraid of so much, and yet I was brave enough to dare the world (if I had to).
The other day, someone said “There are 7.5 billion people in this world and you’re going to let the opinion of one person stand in your way?” I have heard different ways this has been said, but yet, hearing this the other day was as if I had never heard this before. And suddenly, a light went on in my head.
I like this way of thinking. I like this because it is true. There are billions of people in this world. There are so many different ways to become the person we want to be, and yet, for some reason, we allow people to interrupt our path in life. We allow people a voice in places where they have no say. We take things personally, when in fact, most times people say or do something this has nothing to do with us. This is more about them than anything else, and yet, we adopt this. We accept this and we take this in.
There are those that talk and there are those that do. I suppose the real question is who do you want to be in this equation? Do you want to talk about your life? Or, would you rather live it? The question itself is simple.
Keep in mind, each and every one of us has a dream. We all have hopes and wants. We all have desires and ideas. We have visions that can often be clouded by our perceptions and doubts. We have distractions that provide obstacles that aren’t even there. I find this amazing. No one else can see this the same way. No two people are exactly alike and although dreams are shared, this does not mean that everyone has the same desire to achieve them.
I sometimes wonder if art has been lost to technology. Or maybe it would be safer to say that art has been stolen right before our very eyes and no one saw it coming. Or did they?
I can say that the written word is hardly written anymore. It is more often typed now, or texted maybe. The glory of the pen to paper has been hijacked by small, handheld devices. I can say that yes, this is true and that yes, I have signed on to the social media bandits and yes, regretfully, I admit my attachment to my cellular device as if the device itself is more important than my wallet or my car keys.
As a writer, or wait, as someone that writes their thoughts down or as someone that even wrote a letter or a post card, can you remember the first time you felt the ballpoint pen on a page? Can you remember when your thoughts flowed into ink? Can you remember ever writing something down that was so freeing that the ink on the page meant more than just the words that were written?
I still see them sometimes, the bullies from my past. They visit my thoughts when I least expect them. I see them in both old ways and new ways.
I see them on their social media pages wit amazement. They are parents now. They have children of their own. And yet, I wonder how they would respond if anyone treated their child the way they used to treat others.
I wonder about a father of three and the one son with Down’s Syndrome. I wonder if the jokes he used to tell are still funny. Or, does he make the noises he used to make while picking on someone with special needs? Did his jokes change now that the jokes hit too close to home.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.