Eternity, Heaven and Hell, that starts right now. Not later. YOU get to decide RIGHT NOW, what your life is going to be like. You get to decide right now how you create life for the people around you, how you present life for the people around you. You don't get to be in control of the things that happen to you. And if your life is anything like mine, there's some pretty fucked up shit that goes on. But circumstance is circumstance. You don't get to control what people say to you, do to you, how people treat you. You can't control sickness, unexpected events, and sometimes you can't even control your own emotions. But your response to life, circumstance, and people is all yours. That is something you own. So own it.
Choose life. Smile. Be bold. Face it straight on. "We are more than conquerors!" "Seize life! Eat bread with gusto! Drink wine with a robust heart!" "Don't skimp out on colors or scarves." Can we please grab hands, and explode into this world with fierce eyes and blinding smiles? Can we make this a better place? Can we be different? Can we, at the very least, risk our lives to try? Because if I'm going to lay down my life for anything, it is to see the world around me transform. I will lay down my life to see the hearts of the broken come to life. Dying for something is a one time event, but laying down a life happens every moment of every day. I cannot and will not do this alone. I need help. Who will hold my hand? Who will do this with me?
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Merge Left
7:00 AM and the fifth snooze button. Jason had studied physics in high school, but couldn't seem to remember the lesson that explained why gravity was twice as strong when he was atop a mattress. He got - no, rolled - out of bed, knocking over a beer bottle from the night before. Time to shower; time to go to work.
Jason couldn't help but wonder if the 24 hour Old Spice really kept him smelling old and spicy for 24 hours. He'd have to ask the next girl he hugged, he thought to himself, water running down his face. He'd already been in the shower for at least 20 minutes, but the hot water heater always brought its a-game. Long ago Jason had come to terms with his addictions in negotiation when he decided, "Alright - you can stay. I'll just set my alarm an hour earlier than I need to so I can accommodate you, five snoozes, 30 minute shower." Sometimes surrender to your vices is freer than victory over them.
Today marked three years in construction for Jason. Accident prone it seemed his shift of holding the 'slow' sign for cars, had become longer than anyone else's. Jason saw the good in it: spending time outside, working with his hands, and getting to be around people. It wasn't all bad but every morning when he woke up he couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness. He never woke up before his alarm went off, and he never got excited about his days.
"Oh that's okay Jason," he'd tell himself. "At least it is a job. It's not really that bad is it?" It wasn't. It's not as if he spent every singe day in misery. Some days were bad, and some days were alright. Construction wasnt his passion, but someone had to do it right? Otherwise there'd be no construction. He often would tell himself that when he had a wife and kids he would wake up every day excited to work so that their lives could be great. He'd pay for food, and eventually his kids could go to college. Work wasn't supposed to be fun. Work was work, and you just wake up in the morning and you do it.
He was out of the shower now. The hot water temporarily tattooed his skin red. Reminding himself not to think about things so philosophical while he was tired, he wiped the towel across the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. "Yeah," he said, "work is just work." But a part of himself felt betrayed. Deep down he wondered if he was lying to himself. He knew in his heart that life was supposed to be something so much more.
Jason couldn't help but wonder if the 24 hour Old Spice really kept him smelling old and spicy for 24 hours. He'd have to ask the next girl he hugged, he thought to himself, water running down his face. He'd already been in the shower for at least 20 minutes, but the hot water heater always brought its a-game. Long ago Jason had come to terms with his addictions in negotiation when he decided, "Alright - you can stay. I'll just set my alarm an hour earlier than I need to so I can accommodate you, five snoozes, 30 minute shower." Sometimes surrender to your vices is freer than victory over them.
Today marked three years in construction for Jason. Accident prone it seemed his shift of holding the 'slow' sign for cars, had become longer than anyone else's. Jason saw the good in it: spending time outside, working with his hands, and getting to be around people. It wasn't all bad but every morning when he woke up he couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness. He never woke up before his alarm went off, and he never got excited about his days.
"Oh that's okay Jason," he'd tell himself. "At least it is a job. It's not really that bad is it?" It wasn't. It's not as if he spent every singe day in misery. Some days were bad, and some days were alright. Construction wasnt his passion, but someone had to do it right? Otherwise there'd be no construction. He often would tell himself that when he had a wife and kids he would wake up every day excited to work so that their lives could be great. He'd pay for food, and eventually his kids could go to college. Work wasn't supposed to be fun. Work was work, and you just wake up in the morning and you do it.
He was out of the shower now. The hot water temporarily tattooed his skin red. Reminding himself not to think about things so philosophical while he was tired, he wiped the towel across the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. "Yeah," he said, "work is just work." But a part of himself felt betrayed. Deep down he wondered if he was lying to himself. He knew in his heart that life was supposed to be something so much more.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
One Day at a Time
The most terrifying thing I can think of is to be old and look back on my life and say that I wasted it. I don't want to be unused potential, and I never want to have to ask myself what could have been. We have so many gifts among us, and worse than death is life without truly living.
I understand that I might be too hard on myself. However, I will never be willing to settle for a mundane life. Sure, we can't spend one hundred percent of our time commandeering ships, base jumping off the space needle, or saving the USA from a terrorist threat with nothing more than a potato gun. We don't all need to move to foreign countries or forsake responsibility in the name of 'living the great adventure.' In fact, I often feel like people quickly become addicted to things of that nature because those 'adventures' mask real, true idleness.
I just want every moment to matter, in my heart. I want to be fully alive when I have nothing better to do than sit on my porch and watch the cars go by. I want painful moments to hurt, I want to laugh with joy, I want to truly celebrate. And beyond that, I want to give myself away. We all have gifts, but they aren't ours to keep. The inflation of ego, using gifts to build our empire is one way to be selfish with our gifts; not using our gifts at all is another.
I'm not perfect, and I'm definitely not a hero. I don't expect to wake up tomorrow and immaculately live every single moment. In fact, I've only proved that throughout my life I am all too willing to let it pass by. At least, more willing than I want to be. I also don't have the answers or words to get anyone else to that point. But there is one thing I am sure of: if I surround myself with people who are passionately seeking life, the contagious nature of big hearts will be a constant reminder that every single day and every single person mean something. And I guess, amidst all of it, that is the best possible thing I can ask for.
Be the type of person who is fully alive when you have nothing better to do than sit on your porch and let the cars go by. Let painful moments hurt, laugh with joy, and truly celebrate. Chase after your dreams! Ask people what their dreams are, and grab their hands and chase with them. Please. And I will do my best to be that kind of person, and together we will passionately, imperfectly love and inspire our way through this life.
When you are old, I will be there by your bedside to remind you that you did it. I will be there telling everyone all the stories, re-living all of the moments when you were truly alive.
I understand that I might be too hard on myself. However, I will never be willing to settle for a mundane life. Sure, we can't spend one hundred percent of our time commandeering ships, base jumping off the space needle, or saving the USA from a terrorist threat with nothing more than a potato gun. We don't all need to move to foreign countries or forsake responsibility in the name of 'living the great adventure.' In fact, I often feel like people quickly become addicted to things of that nature because those 'adventures' mask real, true idleness.
I just want every moment to matter, in my heart. I want to be fully alive when I have nothing better to do than sit on my porch and watch the cars go by. I want painful moments to hurt, I want to laugh with joy, I want to truly celebrate. And beyond that, I want to give myself away. We all have gifts, but they aren't ours to keep. The inflation of ego, using gifts to build our empire is one way to be selfish with our gifts; not using our gifts at all is another.
I'm not perfect, and I'm definitely not a hero. I don't expect to wake up tomorrow and immaculately live every single moment. In fact, I've only proved that throughout my life I am all too willing to let it pass by. At least, more willing than I want to be. I also don't have the answers or words to get anyone else to that point. But there is one thing I am sure of: if I surround myself with people who are passionately seeking life, the contagious nature of big hearts will be a constant reminder that every single day and every single person mean something. And I guess, amidst all of it, that is the best possible thing I can ask for.
Be the type of person who is fully alive when you have nothing better to do than sit on your porch and let the cars go by. Let painful moments hurt, laugh with joy, and truly celebrate. Chase after your dreams! Ask people what their dreams are, and grab their hands and chase with them. Please. And I will do my best to be that kind of person, and together we will passionately, imperfectly love and inspire our way through this life.
When you are old, I will be there by your bedside to remind you that you did it. I will be there telling everyone all the stories, re-living all of the moments when you were truly alive.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Are You Afraid of the Dark?
This is perhaps, maybe, more vulnerable than I'd like to be:
Sure, our parents pretended to love us... but if they REALLY loved us would they really shut off the light and leave us to get eaten alive by the monster under our bed or the boogeyman? Love is more than a feeling, it is an act. And if it was genuine love, they wouldn't have tried to save on grocery costs by serving us up on a platter (okay, a bed) to the creatures of the night.
Actually I was never afraid of monsters. It seemed irrational to my nerdy, afro baring, glasses wearing head. But as a young'n our house got broken into - funny story though, I was in denial at first and thought that people broke into our house to leave us presents (seriously [they didn't]) - and after that I had a great fear of robbers breaking into my room at night.
But now I know that I'm strong enough to kick any robbers ass (I'm not, but I'm really fast and could run away), and I'm not afraid of monsters under the bed. However, I have been hearing really creepy noises at night. Really creepy. And the problem isn't that it is the unknown, because I know exactly what it is (I almost wish I didn't).
Mice. It is mice.
And lets just be honest here. Mice are far more terrifying than robbers or the boogeyman. Why do you think I'm blogging at 11:48 at night? About nothing? It's so I don't have to face the mice. I also have music on very loud and I'm sleeping in my clothes. I might not ever sleep again.
Sure, our parents pretended to love us... but if they REALLY loved us would they really shut off the light and leave us to get eaten alive by the monster under our bed or the boogeyman? Love is more than a feeling, it is an act. And if it was genuine love, they wouldn't have tried to save on grocery costs by serving us up on a platter (okay, a bed) to the creatures of the night.
Actually I was never afraid of monsters. It seemed irrational to my nerdy, afro baring, glasses wearing head. But as a young'n our house got broken into - funny story though, I was in denial at first and thought that people broke into our house to leave us presents (seriously [they didn't]) - and after that I had a great fear of robbers breaking into my room at night.
But now I know that I'm strong enough to kick any robbers ass (I'm not, but I'm really fast and could run away), and I'm not afraid of monsters under the bed. However, I have been hearing really creepy noises at night. Really creepy. And the problem isn't that it is the unknown, because I know exactly what it is (I almost wish I didn't).
Mice. It is mice.
And lets just be honest here. Mice are far more terrifying than robbers or the boogeyman. Why do you think I'm blogging at 11:48 at night? About nothing? It's so I don't have to face the mice. I also have music on very loud and I'm sleeping in my clothes. I might not ever sleep again.
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