Perspective

“Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed.”   ― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Looking back on 2016, we can all probably say it was a bad year, and it was a good year. It was the best of times, the worst of times. Based on perspective. Remove what we see as bad, and even the good is diminished. The good is a little dimmer when there's nothing for comparison.

Boredom. It's our own doing. Harder to be bored in this modern age, with the electronic devices to occupy our time. But even that can become boring. We've all reached the end of the internet at some point, it seems. I know there are days when I feel there's nothing to do but sleep. And of course, that's hard to do sometimes. Boredom steals so much time from our lives. We have to work hard to avoid it, to win back those wasted hours.

Fear. The mind killer, as Frank Herbert correctly wrote. When we are afraid, when we cower inside our own mind rather than face what scares us, we are giving up precious time. Time we can't regain, since its forward movement means we're watching ourselves in the rearview mirror. Stand tall, stand strong, even when you don't feel like you are: it's the only way to earn more of those precious moments you'd otherwise miss.

Anger. The absolute worst. Nothing is more pointless than being angry. You can't change anything, or anyone. You can only resolve not to let it consume you, and keep moving. Being mad solves nothing, it only hurts you further. Sometimes the answer is to move on without the source being in your life,  other times you have to just punch a wall and deal with the broken hand. Nut you have to push past it, unless you want to endlessly tread that lukewarm water.

If you can keep things in perspective, and accept that you are the one controls your destiny.  A long fine life, indeed.


Happy New Year, readers. 

NOTHING

“Bad things are not the worst things that can happen to us. NOTHING is the worst thing that can happen to us.” ― Richard Bach, One

Celebrity deaths have certainly marked 2016. I hope their lives were as full of the joy they gave their fans. I don't really believe most celebrities are very happy people. The abundance of drug and alcohol abuse, perverted behaviours, multiple relationships, suicide: not signs of happiness. Hard to know if choosing to pursue fame and fortune was the cause or the effect.

I never actually believed all the crappy things reported about Michael Jackson. I saw him as a kid that never got to be a kid because of the fame. His antics onstage, the plastic surgeries, the masks: all things to hide who he might really be. A forever kid, like the Peter Pan character he portrayed and loved. And who could blame him for being "strange" - can you imagine being stalked every moment of your life? That would make someone quite batty, and create a less than happy life.

Robin Williams was another who hid who he was inside, and the struggles with mental illness never improved. He suffered in silence, like many, in spite of his fame opening up resources that aren't available to many. Nothing good happens when the demons are only bound and gagged, instead of being silenced forever.

Fame and fortune, things many of us wish for but can't know how our lives would really work out in the end. Those "bad things" along the way aren't avoided just because of celebrity and wealth. Would most people trade one for the other? Life is never tit for tat.

It certainly doesn't seem an even exchange, but isn't that life better than one where NOTHING happens? A boring existence: meager success, limited mobility in social and economic circles. Just the bare essentials. Life in the trenches. nose to the grist stone. Day running into night, back into day.

Maybe the neon lights aren't for all of us, but escaping the drudgery has its attractions. Would you trade the eternity of nothings for the bright trappings of fame? I'm pretty sure I don't want to grace the glossy covers of the newsstand, but I know there's more to life than sitting on the bench.

Perfection

“You will begin to touch heaven, Jonathan, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.” ― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Perfection doesn't have limits. If we could only remember that when it mattered. It's about being there. Skin in the game, living in the moment, ALL IN. Perfection.

No, not perfect. Rarely is anything perfect. Perfection is different than being perfect. Honey, you ain't Jesus: you ain't fooling nobody. You won't be perfect, but you can find perfection.

There's always some dust in the corners of every relationship, something hiding under the bed that everyone ignores like it never happened, or won't happen again. Raised voices or fists, a drunken night with a stranger, the whispered phone call that felt like betrayal. Hell, even just leaving dirty socks every. damn. day. or sloppy housekeeping, we all have our pressure points. We give, we take, we give some more. Funny, both partners think they give the most, eh?

We set limits on what we can accept: the last straws, one more time and we're out of here. And with those limits, we bind ourselves. But do we really keep with our pledge? Do we walk away so freely? Do we give up when we've reached that point of no return? No, not usually. And by that, we release the limitations, and continue our search for.... perfection.

It's never too little. It's never too much. It's righter that we want to admit. Right enough to keep us seeking that perfection. I'd even wager we set new limits because we are unwilling to admit things are closer to that perfection than we can admit. Which means WE have to be perfect. So back to my earlier point: perfection is different than being perfect. Something can reach perfection without those involved being perfect.

Everyone just has to understand that from the beginning. Then those limitations/expectations aren't so hard to grasp.

XXOO

Already There

“Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?” ― Richard Bach, One.

Lots of thoughts around the holidays, including those about ones we aren't physically close to but wish we were. Makes me think the quote is truer than we know.

Physical distance is somewhat overrated. I have married friends who live 500 miles apart and see each other every other weekend, which is spent running around visiting other family members. I have friends who are long distance truckers and see their families a few days a month. What works for them might not work for everyone, but who are we to say it's not enough?

We crave that physical bond. Reaching across the table to hold hands, snuggling on the couch. No doubt it improves relationships, but there's also the flip side: too much contact. I've written about this before. Sometimes it renders the touch almost meaningless. Routine. Boring. And yes, the dreaded "taken for granted." Absence of some sort does make the heart grow fonder.

I deal with physical distance from those I love daily. Doesn't make me love them less, makes the time we share even more special. Some of my dearest friends are people I may never meet in person. A few I have only met once, and may never again. I don't doubt you can be totally committed to someone from a distance: I feel the pull daily. Always there, on the edge of things, wondering if they're thinking about me while I'm thinking about them. I'd drop my life in a hot minute if the chance to be together arises, but what I feel is enough to keep me going.

But you know, being ALL IN helps with that kind of thing.

Question Without Answers

“Oh, the different consciousness between the grieving and the dying! One sees midnight, the other joyful sunrise. One sees death, the other Life as never before.”  - Richard Bach, Illusions II: The Adventures of a Reluctant Student


Trying to find a positive message about death isn't easy. Even for the faithful, we struggle with loss. Knowing a life without pain, without sadness is ahead holds little comfort for the grieving. I can't imagine what someone without faith must go through, having nothing at all to counterbalance the weight.

I have thought about such things, more than once. Does the atheist, with his last breath, find that which eluded him in life, and surrender his soul to the Almighty and gain redemption? Does the atheist, uncertain right to the end, open his heart and mind to the miracle and accept their mortality with an eye to the hereafter? I have no idea. But I pray that those I count as friends find what they are searching for, and that we share a laugh over a cold drink in the finest bar in Heaven. Sure, there's a bar in Heaven. And dogs and cats. And a chocolate fountain. Free. It's my Heaven, so there. Drop by sometime, someday.

Back to the positive message, now.... yep, I'm having some trouble finding a consistent one for this subject. Seems death and loss provide many questions without answers. Clear ones, anyway.

I guess that's what faith is all about. Plodding ahead with life every day, with the belief that no matter what happens and where we rest our head that night, we'll be where we belong. Safe in the arms of those we love, here on Earth or in Heaven. If you thouht about it very much, you'd probably scare yourself out of.... living. There'd be "Danger, Will Robinson" alerts going off in our heads constantly, trying to stay safe. 

But in our hearts, we know there's no such thing as safe. We are born to die. And to live again. Without those burdens, without that pain. And then we won't need any answers, because we'll be truly free. The answers won't matter anymore.

Random Thoughts

In no particular order, some random things from the past few days....

i dream of you, and us.
what might have been.
what may still be.
stuck in the now.
heart racing.
what are you waiting for,
while i wait for you?

Does anyone really know what time it is?
Does anyone really care?
Yeah, I totally stole that. 

My heart beats louder when I think of you.
My mind wanders further when I think of you.
My soul flies higher when I think of you.
Are you really still out there?
Seems like I've been waiting forever.... 

I see your picture, and smile. I remember.


You know I do. I think I always have. But timings a bitch...

Plans

“There are no mistakes. The events we bring upon ourselves, no matter how unpleasant, are necessary in order to learn what we need to learn; whatever steps we take, they're necessary to reach the places we've chosen to go....”  Richard Bach, One.

If we only knew that at the beginning.... the road less traveled, the easy path, the escalator. We'd probably all think a little harder about what we do before we act, if we knew how far-reaching the outcome would be.

Fall off the monkey bars when you're ten. Broken arm, still gives you trouble in winter when you're fifty. Enemies with the geeky kid in high school? Next thing you know, you're thirty and he's interviewing you for a job you really need. That guy you dumped right before prom? He's your loan officer. Simple decisions in life, yet they affect you later. You only hope others are adult and move on. Otherwise.... there's trouble.

But trouble keeps you hustling. Making new decisions after something goes wrong, that's what keeps us young. And stressed. I try to have plans A, B, C, and D. Hasn't worked out well sometimes, but having plans reduces the stress. You can recover to that next plan easier than having to pull one out of thin air. And keep stepping....

Oh yeah. Look out for that tree....

Fear

“The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. we live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we are afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we will lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy.” - Richard Bach, One.

I could write a blog post every day about fear.

In spite of our tough talk, we base our words and actions on fear. Instead of being honest, we say "No problem, I'm fine with that." Even when we don't want it to happen, we accept that temporary pain rather than our perceived future pain. Instead of doing something we want, we do without. Temporary regret over permanent damage. I think this says more about our opinions of others than about ourselves.

Do you really think that a wife telling her husband she really wants him to stay home instead of going hunting with the guys would ruin their relationship long term? So she puts it aside, knowing how much fun he'll have. Never mind he didn't remember that it's her sister's birthday and they are included in a surprise party. That was planned months ago, before the impromptu guys weekend. They can go out to dinner with them later, family always understands. 

Honestly, what woman would be upset if her guy asked her to go to his college alma mater homecoming game, ten years running? So instead, he begs off. They can get together in the spring, maybe go to the lake. Even if she doesn't like football, meeting his longtime friends and being happy at their happiness should be an easy answer for her. His crew won't mind, they've been friends too long to let something like a missed game matter.

The only person we hurt with our fear is ourselves. Remember the Litany Against Fear? 

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Frank Herbert was one smart guy.

Don't let your fear stand in your way.

Losing

“That’s what learning is, after all; not whether we lose the game, but how we lose and how we’ve changed because of it, and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games. Losing, in a curious way is winning.”  ― Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever: A True Love Story

Losing. A much bigger part of life than we'd like. If you only see it as losing, and not the gifts you have from it, you probably are more than tired of it.

If I had to pick something I think has taught me more than anything else in life, it would be losing. Not being pessimistic about my life, I have learned far more from the bad than the good.

Family. My parents split when I was 17, after... 17 years of crap. Maybe they loved each other in the beginning, but I don't remember any of that. We had good times, but it was almost exclusively me and my dad. I think my egg donor was probably bipolar: mostly because I don't want to think I am descended from someone that was truly evil. My dad and I did most everything together, until he saw I was old enough to fight back for myself. Then he was outta there. What did losing that teach me? Never give up. There's always a way out.

Love. I've had a few great loves in my lifetime. Young love, what I thought was forever love, and let's try this one more time love. Two of those ended tragically, so there's a lesson there: don't count on forever, live each day. There's even one in the wings that never took flight, one that is and may always be waiting on that second chance. Lesson? Again, never give up. Anything is possible. There might be a way back.

Yes, I see the theme here as well. Giving up is never a good idea. NO QUITTING. Also, NO WHINING. If anyone ever told you life was fair, go find them now and slap them. It was a lie. Life isn't even about fairness. We get what we work for, we lose what we love, and if we're lucky, so damn lucky, we get another chance.

This Thanksgiving season, think about your gains. That came from your losses. Be grateful for both.

Locks That Fit Our Keys

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise." 



I chose a picture of a really old lock, shaped like a heart, for a reason. Without knowing it, most of us placed a lock on our hearts a long time ago. Every time we let someone hurt us, we added another layer of steel. Thinking that would keep the pain away, forgetting that we control our pain. Each time we let someone in and they ravage our lives, we strengthened the lock by reinforcing the door. One time we opened up and showed our true selves and someone we love damaged our soul, we even buried the key. We hit that sucker good, even forgot to make a map of where we put it. We promised ourselves "never again."

And now, here we are. All those years later. All those loves with their beautiful keys, cast away like old socks with elastic that got too loose and they bother you when they slide down in your shoe. You keep them around, in the back of the sock drawer, hesitant to throw them out since they are pretty comfortable most of the time. New socks might not fit so well.

They allow it. They let us keep them around, because like us, they are also scared of change. They realize that if they make things uncomfortable, we might reject them. We might find a replacement, something newer and better. Neither of us realize that we're the problem, not the solution. Nobody understands that we created the mess we're in, and that we also hold the answer.

I'm damaged. I freely admit it. The very first adult love (if you call 14 "adult") was someone I've probably never completely gotten over. It ended as unfinished business. As did the next time. And the next. Disturbing pattern, but I'm guessing I'm not alone in it. And it was for a good reason: their key obviously quit fitting my locks. Yes, plural. Don't be shocked, you have more than one as well, I'm betting.

I was smart enough once to take a break and let life's wheel turn. Or so I thought. I let someone in, just a peep in the door. And that's the one that haunts me every night. And most days. I watch from afar, knowing that I'd drop my life in a second if situations changed. I never lost touch, never lost contact, but above all I never lost hope. It's quite the burden sometimes, the ray of hope shines back at me every so often and my heart skips. With joy, with fear, at the thought of paradise.

Yeah, I know. It could turn out to be a big disappointment, a sad mistake. But I'm everfaithful that there is something waiting on the other side of the door, and someday (soon would be great!) the key that fits my lock will find its way home.

But enough about me..... you set those locks too, you know? You planned it just right, and whenever things go a bit wrong, you close that door and lock it from the inside. Which places you all alone, behind that sturdy door you built over time, without even a peephole. If you can't see out, nobody can see in. And you can only isolate someone so long before they make a change. They won't sit in a drawer full of other raggedy socks forever. They deserve better. And so do you. I mean we.

There is no master key in life, in love. There's just one for each lock. Go find the one that's waiting for yours.

Fearless

“The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we are afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we will lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy.” - Richard Bach, One.

Fear is the mind-killer. Yep, Frank Herbert had it right, all those decades ago, in his Dune novels. If we fear, we don't act. Inaction causes.... nothing. Not a damn thing happens. Then when nothing happens, we fear that as well.

I choose to find happiness. I choose to find love. I choose to search for what I need, what we all crave. Someone to share those quiet moments with, to hold us in the dark when we aren't quite as fearless as we wish. Someone to catch our eye across a room, and hold it for just long enough that we know.... we just know. Someone to make me laugh at the silly things, to make me shed tears of joy until I can't breathe. Someone that provokes me to think, about serious topics, about things I can do to make the world better.

And I can't do any of that if I'm afraid.

 I choose to fight fear. I choose to live on my own terms, even when sometimes I forget to set those terms. Which is why I count on people that read the blog to kick me in the ass, to remind me that I'm being slack. I do an okay job of starting a post, but then I feel like I'm repeating myself, so I stop and think. And thinking is dangerous business, let me tell you. I talk myself out of a lot of brilliant ideas by thinking about them too much.

Fight the fear. Fight for happiness. Fight for love. How? By being ALL IN. No hesitation. No holding back. NO WALLS. No false bravado.

By Being Fearless.

Honesty

“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness. Listen to it carefully.” - Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

Complicated sentence, that one. Makes you have to put your thinking cap on. Calculate when your heart intersects your ego. Maths are hard.

Most people don't intend to be be selfish, but it's the default setting for human nature. We feel ourselves superior, more important. Doesn't everyone around us see how special we are, and that we must be attended to? Unless you've had a crappy life, maybe even been gas-lighted, your self esteem doesn't stop at your front door. Your confidence creates your kingdom. Learning to temper that is where conscience comes from.

Those who don't tame their selfishness often end up alone. Nobody wants to share a life with a maniacal partner, one who thinks of themselves without consideration of others. While perfectly normal to be selfish, normal people learn to feel badly when they take advantage, when they trample feelings.

The guilt often comes quietly: the look in another's eyes when you've shattered their heart, the quiet that follows your tantrum. Figuring out that you were the one out of control is easier than accepting the responsibility for it. That ego just won't accept the burden of conscience.

We are all masters of our own fate. No one can hurt us without getting our permission, however succinctly. The reality of the pain we allow ourselves isn't lessened when we realize it was our own doing. Like the selfish prat that throws his toys in a fit of pique` and then wonders why no one wants to play with him, our conscience nags us to be better if we expect another outcome. Hearts aren't toys, and relationships shatter under the weight of one's humanity.

Distance

“He's changing. Every day more remote, protected, distant. He builds fests now for the soulmate he hasn't found, bricking wall and maze and mountain fortress, dares her to find him at the hidden center of them all Here's an A in self-protection from the one in the world he might love and who might someday love him.”


Always with the walls, aren't we? Building them higher, reinforcing them with stronger bricks, and of course we want spikes on the top. If nobody can get in, we can't be hurt, right?

Nope. All we're doing is running ourselves ragged, the race lost because the one thing we most desire we have kept from ourselves. We've only managed to become isolated from the companionship, the trust, the love. There we are, behind that moat of protection, watching the world from behind locked doors. Enough distance between us and them (whoever "they" are,) and our hearts are safe and sound. And lonely as hell.

My story today has more truth than I wish to admit. I don't want to be the one on the inside, alone and cold. I want to be the one sitting on the top of the highest turret in the castle, holding hands and watching the sunset. Protectionism cannot end well, yet I remain elusive and vague. While I wait.... for what, exactly, I'm not sure. But I know I won't get hurt in the meantime.

I have GOT to get off my ass and do better. I have GOT to put myself out there. No more hiding behind the electrified walls of the internet, or the casual acquaintances that are discarded like stale bread.

You too, okay? Let's try this together. I'll keep sharing my story, you go out and write a new chapter in yours.

Cloudy, with a chance of rain...

Pretty much sums up the week.... I'd make the excuse I had nothing to write about, but actually I've been nursing a sore knee/thigh/something that keep me off the PC a lot. But it's better with the rest, as usually is the case.

I'm okay with the rain, it's way more beneficial than harmful. Imagine what the world would be like without it. Just take a look at the Middle East, most of Africa. A dry wasteland, people moving constantly chasing food and water, a battle for survival. I read a lot of post-apocalyptic books, and all of them deal with a lack of drinkable water as a major issue. Even when the planet is destroyed by floods, it's always the water they need to survive.

The rain also puts most of us in a mood. If you're a happy soul, you get frustrated when you can't go outside and do things. If you happen to be someone who suffers any sort of depression, it drives you further down the rabbit hole. It doesn't take much to turn sadness into a serious funk: dark and stormy weather certainly never helps.

Enjoy the rain, if you can. And remember: it can't rain forever.

Weekend Fun!

It surprises people that know me when they read stuff I write here. They find it strange that I can be so serious. I think that the serious me is the inner part I keep tucked away safe. But then I realize the fun me is  the one I actually enjoy more. I am both, and always have been.

My family reminds me I did silly things as a kid. My high school antics got me voted Class Clown. A good memory from then came from our foreign exchange classmate from Sweden. He told me "Be forever a clown," and I thought that was a good quote to live by. I've made a lot of people laugh, even if they did have to suffer the same stories over and over. I was once asked to be quiet at a comedy club, my heckling was getting more attention than the comedian.

The serious side comes out when I write, but not so often in conversation. I have to be approached by someone with something they want to discuss before I open up. Not just political stuff, I'll talk about that with anyone who wants to go back and forth. Real serious stuff: relationships, religion, etc. That's not something I normally bring up, although I will ask someone if they need to talk when it looks like they're in a bind.

On that note.... let's have some fun! A few music links for your enjoyment, and a LOL picture.

Bonfire Heart

Dance With Me

Home Sweet Home

Life's A Dance

Talladega

Have a great weekend, we'll be back to the serious business soon enough! :)

Sorry I'm late....

Richard says to Shimoda, upon their first meeting. In response to "I've been waiting for you." Interesting start for two guys seeing each other in a cornfield, never having met before. Little did Richard know what he was in for, and that he arrived just in time.

They didn't find each other by chance. Three bucks for ten minutes in the air, they hawked biplane rides over bright green fields, over the family farm where Mom waved from the front porch, past town as it were (population 200.) No way did they happen upon the same field at the same time. Richard had things to learn, and Shimoda was indeed a teacher. A Master, it seems. He even came with instructions. The Messiah's Handbook: Reminders For The Advanced Soul. And it was magical. It was destiny.
                                                                                             

Who doesn't love a good adventure? Spending time with a new friend, doing something you have in common. Freedom to work as much or as little as you want, eat when you like, sleep half the day even. Having worked hard, we deserve to play hard as well. But even during the downtime, there are things to be learned. Don't forget the sunscreen. Make sure you have a change of clothes, just in case. (My gramma always said clean underwear, but you get the idea.) And always take time to smell the roses. Or the fresh cut grass.

When we take our breaks from life, our moods change. We don't realize we are still learning, it becomes less like work and more like fun. We might just be camping in the backyard with the kids because we can't afford a real vacation, but learning the names of the constellations we see looking in the night sky? That's a double good experience. That quick day trip to the beach seems simple, but when we watch the dolphins play in the surf, and see the gulls at feeding time flying their distinctive patterns based on hierarchy... yep, that was learning too.

The "Sorry, I'm late" is an apology from me, of sorts. I thought I was ready to teach you awhile back, but I found myself lacking. I wasn't quite up to the task, I still had a bit more to learn about myself. I know you've been waiting, even if you didn't know it. Heck, I didn't even realize I was supposed to teach you anything. We seem to be finding out things together. Almost like it's.... destiny.

Clinging, I shall die of boredom...

The Master, growing weary of the crowds pressing him, relays a parable in hopes of loosening their devotion. He speaks of creatures living on a riverbed, among the rocks and debris for generations. It's all they know, it's everything they've ever done. One creature reveals that he can no longer bear such an enslaved life. He plans to let go, to trust the river, and take his chances. The chorus against him is loud, but he knows what he must do. "Clinging, I shall die of boredom. I shall let go, and allow the current to take me where it may."

After being bounced and bruised, he floats downriver on his journey. River dwellers who see him from below proclaim him Savior: "see him fly, no one has ever flown!" Despite his reassurance that they too can swim free, they regale his glory above all others. Unreal, he thinks. Don't they see, they're just like me?

                                                                                          

One of the lessons Richard learns from Shimoda in Illusions is that we are all masters of our own fate. That the one thing God wants for us is to be happy. He doesn't want us to sit back and let someone else live our lives for us. We must seek out things that give us joy, people that make us laugh. We aren't solitary creatures, we need like minds, like hearts.

Sometimes, if things get quiet, I can hear my heart call out. It wants companionship. It needs friendship. It craves interaction. We need other people. To expand our knowledge, to fulfill our dreams. To complete... ourselves. Without that community we surround ourselves with, we become stagnant. Complacent. Yes, bored.

No one is coming to fix your life. No white knight will ride in to save you. Nobody has a magic wand. It's up to you to make a difference. Unless you're happy with the boredom, you'll have to be the one to step up. You need to learn to let go of the things that made you feel safe. Allow yourself to live. Personal responsibility, remember?

Within each of us lies the power of our consent...

Before Richard begins his adventure with Shimoda, we learn about the Master. That magical being that can heal with the pass of a hand, repair a broken life with a word. An ordinary mechanic, his life flips upside down as people learn of his "powers." No, he really doesn't have any. But convince the mass who gathers to see his miracles. Convince those who throng to his side, hoping beyond hope for a glance upon him, a chance his arm might bump them in the crowd and change their lives forever.

The Master knows that we control our own destiny. He knows their calls of "Messiah" are misplaced. The parables he speaks are meant to show they can rely on inner strength. That they can depend on their own abilities and trust their judgments. No matter how many times he speaks, no matter the message, it falls on silent ears. They call upon him to save them from their misery. And yet again, the Master leaves behind his own life, escaping from those who cannot see the truth: it's up to them to change their lives.

"Within each of us lies the power of our consent... to health and to sickness. To riches and to poverty. To freedom and to slavery. It is we who control these, and no other."

Burden? Sure. Curse? Sometimes. But oh, what a ride. Finally realizing that the whole time, you were the one that made the smiles. And the tears. You were the one who gave comfort. And broke spirits. You were the one who captured the heart of the one that loved you. And turned that love away in childish anger.

Personal responsibility is a tough thing: it's hard to hold yourself accountable. The hot iron of pride is paired with the stamp of humiliation, and it's hard to wear both. The masks we wear to camouflage the scars rub raw. We silently scratch the wounds and hope nobody notices the imperfection. We worked hard to get where we are today. You didn't ride the winds of change without a saddle, I hope.

What....

As you know, I'm a big fan of the writer Richard Bach. In particular, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. Catchy title, has a good beat, and you can probably even dance to it.

Richard explains in the introduction that people always asked him what he was going to write next, after the huge success of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. He believed he had written everything he had to say, that he had no important words left. I'm not convinced he didn't have a bit of writer's block, and saying he was done was an easy out. After awhile, he realized there's always something more to be written. Maybe he gained a muse: he had met his soulmate Leslie already. In his later book The Bridge Across Forever: A Lovestory, he acknowledges that he didn't see what was in front of him, and possibly that included what he needed to write.

I've been there. I wrote a ton of stuff as a teen: poems and lyrics, mostly. Then I stopped almost completely for a decade. I wrote a few more lyrics in my twenties, and stopped again. Not exactly sure why, but I give myself the excuse that life was busy. When in fact, if I had been writing more, my life might have been less busy. I might have had enough success to be rewarded and work less. I found the internet in the late 90's, and saw how easy writing could be. Under the anonymity of a username, I could discuss subjects that mattered without repercussion. It still wasn't the same, but I enjoyed it. Then there's blogging.

I started a "fun" blog here in 2008, posting smart remarks about politics and linking to articles written by "professionals."  Little did I realize most of them were just living the dream, like me. Only with more talent, and better habits. And of course, I quit again. Took a big break for a few years. I think, in retrospect, I lost my muse. I felt.... ignored. Like I didn't have anything to say that anyone wanted to hear. I'm not entirely sure where "I" went, but I thought I was back in 2014, into 2015. Then... I got lost again.

I think I put too much pressure on myself. I said I believed I was supposed to write to teach people about surviving a life that, in spite of the HUGE amounts of suck, was also full of joy and wonder and happiness. I wrote every. damn. day. for months. Then one day, I.... couldn't think of a thing to say. I hemmed and hawwed for a week, then tapped out. Again.

I've re-read Illusions about five times in the past year. And finally, I found it. I found what I needed to get "me" back. It was there, all the time.

"Our true work is this voyage, this adventure."

I hope you'll come along with the journey. Again.

New Beginnings

Springtime.

The world awakens from the cold slumber of Winter. She shakes off the chill like a pup after a bath: excited, yet a bit unsure.

Time for me to get back to work. I hope y'all are ready.

Let's do this!