I am one strange bird, when I should be happy, I’m not; and when I should be upset or depressed, I ain’t. Well round here it’s face the music week. I got the last of the monthly bills to pay, I’m over extended due to extra doctor visits, and I got taxes that are due. (As all 1099’ers know so well.) So while anything’s looking a little “thread-bare” around here, for some damn reason I’m optimistic. In a world that is so hyped on keeping us afraid (to sell ad space, in case you didn’t know). We drown in a sea of pessimism searching for a way out, only to be dragged down again.

Our forefathers lived under tyranny where the few ruled the many. (Sound familiar?) But they remained focused, they didn’t let what stared them in the face take away from their vision of enlightenment and free will. Today we tend to get a little lazy. We’ve grown comfortable with the status que, accepting the crumbs given to us by the few. Allowing ourselves to be herded like cattle to the slaughter. 
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You may ask yourself, what does this have to do with optimism and pessimism? My answer would be, your situation good or bad is real. How you treat that situation depends on you. You can either look at your place in this world and see hopelessness, or you can tighten your belt and seize the day. God knows I got a crappy few weeks coming up, but I also know “this too shall pass”. Fight for what you believe in, but not at the expense of hurting others. Compromise and compassion will always prevail over anger, bitterness, and hate.  

There are days when I feel like a folded-up accordion. The skin on my neck over laps the skin on my chest. My knees have little flaps of loose skin and my underarms look like water doodles. Ah, don’t worry if you wanta laugh, I really don’t mind. I can remember decades ago, when I was l teased for quite the opposite. It’s a little sad now, that most of those people that teased me are now alcoholics, drug attacks, perpetual losers, or worse yet dead.

I know, I know I shouldn’t think that way. But when I see these people on the interwebs, they’re all bitter, mad, or in an obituary. I guess I should be one of those sad statistics, flat broke in a one red light town, just 130 miles from where I began. Without a permanent home, no deed, no title, just an 18 year old pick up truck and a pretty steady lawn chair.
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But I got friends, people that will check on me if they don’t hear anything. I got kids that stay on my ass and argue back at me like I taught them too. I got a following, it’s no more than a handful, but isn’t more than a handful just too much? Through all my wondrous imperfections, it’s nice to know that I’m still breathing. That I still got most of my wits about me. And rather I admit it or not, I am still capable of love. 

Several days of sleep deprivation have taken a toll on my body. It’s amazing how a $15 piece of plastic for a CPAP machine can upset my life. Yet here I am at 2:30 in the morning, my mind in a fog and my body clock all messed up. But I don’t wish to bother you anymore with of my medical misadventures. If anything, I’d just assume make you laugh or at least roll your eyes at something I’ve said. Still even while the conditions are pretty good for sleeping, I lay here, my heart pounding, and sleep nowhere to be found.

It’s funny how beautiful words seem to pour off my fingers, but never out of my mouth. How thoughts of gentle perspective can flow to the screen, yet always bypassing my tongue. I get a lot of comments about my words that often mystify me. Because I am well aware of who I am. An ill-tempered old man, without a kind word passing my lips without some sort of cynical remark. I suppose I can always throw out the being verbally abused card as an excuse. But at 58 years old, is that still the right card to play? But then again is blaming myself for every wrong in my life okay? It’s a slippery slope, one that I don’t wish to travel.
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Life is often a long journey of repeating ourselves. Rather it’s dating the same incompatible people or making other stupid life choices. We can’t seem to help ourselves. I pause for a moment searching my mind for the right thing to say. But all I hear are the desperate cries of that hurting child deep within my soul. Closing my eyes that child tells me to carry on. To forge ahead and to not stop. Living is so exhausting at times. But on many occasions, it’s nothing more than minor setbacks in the road. We need to remind ourselves to be patient. For lasting change never comes unless it’s repeated time and time again.  

Some things aren’t worth the words I use to describe them. Looking at this world turned so narcissistic, I barely recognize it anyone. I’ve literally spent years of my life discussing and believing in our “better angels”. Yet all I see right now is a world hell bent on falling down a rabbit hole selfishness and self-destruction.

My latest reading has been on the correct use of power. On having compassion and empathy for our fellow human beings. It was debate and disagreement that created this “more perfect union”. But lately it’s been the fear of losing power that has driven us. Survival is one thing, to speak out against injustice another. But to pigeon hole every protestor a terrorist, and every cop a killer is insane.
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There are problems with this world, yes. There is injustice and heavy handedness of the law. But the screaming has to stop. I am not always right and either are you. But watering seeds of hatred and fear weeps a bitter chop. I know of the pressures of life. I have the damaged heart and deteriorating muscles to prove it. Let’s step beyond the fear and lack of civil discourse, to allow compromise to win. I fight enough battles with myself both physically and mentally to take up all my precious time. Isn’t it time for you to go to our corner and wait for the next round?
 

If life were only as simple as our dreams. At 46 years old, I decided to pursue my college dreams. A dream I had stopped and started since 1980. A dream that had haunted me, telling I would never be happy without it. After a number of tries throughout the 1990’s and early 2000’s, I found a good fit through online schooling. Through five and a half years of struggle, I finally earned my Bachelor’s Degree in Information Technology Business Systems Analysis. But in what I dreamed would be the proudest moment of my life, I felt nothing.

It was almost like “buyer’s remorse”. Where you buy something you thought you needed, only to put it on the shelf. Now this is not to say I didn’t get the education I desired. In fact, I walked away with a wealth of knowledge and tons of conference I didn’t know I had. Even now it’s hard to explain. All I know is I fought like hell went on to earn my MBA after my undergrad study. Literally nearly losing my life in the process. But during those months of recuperation, my life, my mindset had to completely change. 
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You see the driving force behind my dreams was my total hatred of myself. Even through college, with every good grade or excellent report from my classmates and instructors. I still hated myself. All the low self-esteem, the lack of confidence, the overeating; it all stemmed from my total hatred of self. Think about it, if you were verbally and/or physically abused nearly from minute one. What other model of behavior do you have to follow? It’s still taking me a lot of time to break this cycle of self-abuse. But every day I still reach out to overcome another obstacle. Listen dreams are great, dreams are beautiful. But look deep within yourself and ask, is this a life changing moment or just another quick fix for my wounded soul. 

For whatever reason, I woke up with a shout this morning. I think I’ll chalk this one up to a good old-fashioned panic attack. This kinda shit would have really worried me years ago. But at this point you tend to just deal with it as it comes. I don’t mean to belittle anyone else going through this or to make light of it. I mean hell, I’ve been dealing with Panic Disorder since 1999. I’ve gone through so many treatment sessions and so many different medication combos. That after a while it’s easy to feel more like a lab rat then a patient.

At this point in my life, I’ve spoken so many times about my illness and treatments, that maybe I gloss over it a bit. But never the less, I’m here and it’s here like an unwanted guest at my party. For a person with enough physical ailments to stop a freight train, you can imagine the health anxiety I often experience. But along with that, I have the strange ability to remain calm during a crisis. My family and physicians often find that irritating, but for some strange reason I’m able to compartmentalize my fear from analytical side of thinking.
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Hell, I don’t know why I’m rambling on about this other than to waste time while this episode passes. I suppose the point is to be proactive with your treatment. Question everything, do your own research into treatment opinions. Be honest with your therapist and doctors about your experiences. But most importantly, don’t be ashamed. There are thousands of individuals out that live miserable lives because of shame and fear. And I should know I was one of them. For the better part of 15 years no one but few knew I suffered from mental illness. So be vocal, be proactive, and don’t let the stigma of mental illness keep you from fighting back. Goodnight. 

My mind is a blank canvas open to whatever possibilities that come my way. For a while, my mind had so much to say, but it was locked away behind a wall of fear and doubt. While I have been dealing with my mental health issues going on 22 years. It wasn’t until around 2007 that I started making real progress dealing with those demons that haunted me. It was during this time that I starting following the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh utilizing the philosophy of mindfulness and compassionate listening.  

It opened my eyes to the idea of self-forgiveness and self-love by quieting the noise my head through awareness and nonjudgement. Listen, even in the Judeo-Christian teaching of forgiveness from God, one must still learn to forgive oneself. I’ve seen so many friends and family that have extended the olive branch of faith to others. Yet deep within themselves, they harbor seeds of guilt and self-hatred. 
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By allowing yourself to become aware of the noise going on inside. You’re allowing yourself to listen to your broken soul and say, “it’s okay”. This is not some magical cure to all your problems. But it can be a first step towards healing a broken heart and mind. Well this story ain’t going finish itself. And my EMC neighbors seemed to be jacked-up to get back to work. So I will take a moment to clear my head of today’s garbage and breathe. 

Taking my last two pills of the morning, I stare at this blank screen, unaware of where it will take me. My head still carries the residual effect of last night’s pain. The aftereffect of a broken-down CPAP machine awaiting repair. I don’t have much to say while I’m confined to quarters, waiting for these high humidity and high temperatures to subside. I often think of the extreme weather I once endured in the name of a paycheck, and how such extremes today would probably kill me.
 
The persistent pain in my shoulder and neck are little reminders of my newfound fragility. Of how my world is not the same as it was even five years ago. Maybe I shouldn’t harp on such limitations, but when you’re locked in a temperature-controlled closet, what else is there to think about. Yesterday was an unholy 97° with a heat index of 107. At the moment the temperature has already hit 90°, and it’s not even noon. So me and the Calico are stretched out on the bed. Waiting impatiently for cooler days and lower humidity.
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One of life’s sweet sorrows is the fact that eventually it has to end. We go about our lives wishing we were the center of the universe. But when outside voices scream, you are not, then the pain settles in. Seeds were planted at our birth. Seeds of comfort and seeds of fear. For so many us we let the garden go unattended. Allowing bad seed to choke away at a good harvest. But it doesn’t have to be that way. By becoming aware one learns how to prune and trim and how to fertilize the garden. Ignoring what is wrong never brings a good harvest. So no matter what the situation, it is you that ultimately has power to create change. 

Funny how this little town wakes up in the late afternoon. Everybody’s getting off work and turning onto these streets trying to make it home. I smell the distant scent of underbrush burning. A volunteer fireman is driving the fire engine around, just the crank it up. The loggers are heading home in the backs of their bosses F-250’s cashing their checks and getting beer. 

I remember those days, after a 12-hour shift at a job site. Cashing my check at the bar, having a few Miller’s, shooting some pool, while downing a few pickled hot sausages. By the time I got home, I’d grab a shower and still have enough energy to take Sherri out on the town. Well that shit hasn’t happened in a while. Sherri's on her sixed or seventh marriage by now and I’m sitting here under a fig tree, retired from all those shenanigans of days gone by. 
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Old memories can either haunt you or set you free. At the moment I’m looking at this with a little of both. Wishing for the energy I had and content with the decisions I’ve made. Time either teaches you or wastes you away. But at the moment sitting under this fig tree, I’m just happy to still be able to feel the breeze. Impatiently waiting for yet another day. While dreaming of bonfires, and an ice-cold bottle of beer, while bullshitting with long lost friends just passing the time away.

Well for the first time this week I’m outside. Not that it’s been all the hot or rainy, but mostly because of the humidity. It is stifling. But the irony is I haven’t gotten settled in my lawn chair yet, before the Baptist next door decided to mow their grass. But such as it is living in the “burbs”, even in a small town. 

September is right around the corner and the two main farmers almanacs can’t decide what the upcoming winter will be like. With one predicting rain and cold, while the other predicting dry and mild. I for one am just waiting on this humidity go away and just be hot. 
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But life offers no guarantees as the Gnats swarming around my head will agree. But the slightest breeze has picked up and my stomach’s already growling. So I guess pick this conversation back up around November. 

It’s five in the morning, not exactly my golden hour. But late enough that I did get a decent night’s sleep. The world is still, the fans on high with its rhythm setting the pace. I spent yesterday processing my latest lab results from my doctor. Already compounded by fear and anxiety, the news and referrals I received did not help the situation. At times it seems like my PCP enjoys delivering bad news. But I understand she’s only looking after my overall health.

So I spent the better part of yesterday loathing and feeling sorry for myself. Unlike some, I find that accepting those emotions cleansing in a way. Instead just “whitewashing” over the strains. Acceptance gives me the ability to clean up those parts of my life that were neglected for so long. To deny yourself the chance to mourn, is to deny yourself the chance to heal. My parents are not buried together. Although they were married some 30+ years. My mother remarried and was buried not far from where I live now. My father lies with my infant younger brother at a cemetery at home in Bloomingdale, Georgia.
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The separation symbolizes a division of our family unity. A division within myself, believing that in some way I am an outsider to my own name. But the acceptance of my flaws and failures gives me a chance to do over whatever disappointments life brings. That we are more than our collected history. That we all have the potential to be better. That through it all history doesn’t have to define us. Instead it gives us the ability to do better. To correct course and face whatever challenges we must face. To look truth straight in the eye and be at peace. 

The old sun can’t make up its mind today rather it wants to come out today or not. But the cicadas sure have come out making a racket. It’s about mid-afternoon and I said the hell with it and come outside. I didn’t realize Mr. Brown had come by and mowed the grass. But the smell of the fresh cut lawn fills my nostrils with the pleasant scent green memories. Texting a friend, the other day brought back memories of hot summer afternoons. Sitting around kitchen tables, drinking iced tea, and listening to my parents and family jarr on about whatever thought crossed their mind. 

Time wasn’t so restrictive, nobody seem to be in a hurry. You eat whatever momma or grandma had on the stove. There weren't any beers drank around our kitchen table. But more than likely, Uncle Perry had something sitting in his truck. But there was plenty of smoking, and every ashtray in the house was full, even though my parents didn’t smoke. It was a two-block walk to grandma’s house. So conversations tended to spill over between one or the other. Weekends were never really boring, because there was always someone dropping by.
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There’s no real rhyme or reason for me telling you this, other than the fact that it used to happen. Before we ever got so wrapped up in ourselves and family were people you actually wanted to hang around. Spinning talk tales and telling stories of this life or the next. But in this world, all I can do is reminisce and socially distance myself. Trying not to take up too much of other people’s time. But at least the cicadas are keeping me company, while the rest of the world burns gas apparently going nowhere. 

Well, let’s try this again. I’m in the backyard, a slight breeze is blowing, and it’s only 86° although it’s only 10:30 in the morning. My neighbor is having his hedges trimmed, I guess to keep up with mine (Insert smiley face). I don’t see any clouds in the sky and I don’t seem to be sticking to my clothes, so I’ll assume the humidity is down. I often wonder why anyone ever reads my shit. It usually always starts the same way. With me talking about something in the yard, while complaining about an obnoxious squirrel or a noisy neighbor. But if your glutton’s for punishment, who am I to argue. 

 Having to repeat things every day builds muscle memory, which is important for work and even play. It can also be important for self-discovery and self-discipline. A little while ago I realized it as getting close to lunch time. Rather you know it or not, I’ve lost 125lbs over the last five years. It was mostly due to dietary changes and some recent health issues. But the bulk of my weight loss came through breaking my food addiction. Recognizing that I was using food as a coping mechanism. Basically, I was eating my feelings. 
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You may ask, what does this have to do with muscle memory? Well though mindfulness, becoming aware of myself, and being honest about my feelings. I was able to embrace the pain inside me and eventually was able to let it go. I know this is a very abbreviated explanation of mindfulness. But the gist of it is, burying pain, hurt, and anger only allows those seeds to germinate and grow. By learning better habits and forgiving myself. I learned that the destructive habits I was using to cope. Can be replaced with the muscle memory of love and forgiveness. Allowing me to pursue even greater paths in life. 

Staring in the mirror, I never imagined being this old. Back when I was in high school, we had a class discussion about the year 2000. About how we would live to see that new millennium, and what we thought we would be doing. I don’t remember what I had said, though I’m sure it was cynical. But the thing I do remember is that in the year 2000 I would be 38 years old. At that time in the late-1970’s, my Dad was just in his mid-40’s. Now in 2020, I’m approaching the age in which both my parents pasted away. Now, I call that irony.

My wife and kids think I am over-obsessed with these facts. But I like to think of it as a goal. To somehow break through that barrier, and then live in a wild unpredictable future. I know, I know that sounds silly as shit. That I should focused on living in the moment. While that may be true, my creative focus pushes me to keep creating, like I have a timer strapped to my back. I am haunted by the thoughts of wasted time. Time, I lost losing the person who I was. Creating this image, that I thought everyone else wanted to see. 
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The scares of those days are slow to heal. From the moment when I was rediscovering myself till now; I hear a distant yet familiar drumbeat of time wasting away. It scares me a little to be in this holding pattern. To watch the world turn, while I have to stay put. Discovering myself being drawn to the negative influences of world speak. Pulled away from nature to become a prisoner in my own home. Unmoved, uninspired, waiting on my greatest enemy…time.

It’s just another anticlimactic moment, in an ocean of anticlimactic moments. I had finally saved up enough money to have my eyes checked and get a new pair of glasses. I know that seems trivial, but for those of us on the low-end of the poverty line, it’s a pretty good achievement. It’s been nearly 5 years since my last exam. When optometrist asked why I simply told him, “You priced me out of the market”. 

But the point here isn’t to glorify my impoverished life. The story is, once I set a goal for myself, such as this one, and then achieve it. I don’t know, I sorta feel let down. Even while I was struggling to get through college and eventually achieving that goal, I just felt empty and wasted. Like every achievement I made, led to me having to prove myself worthy time and time again.
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I hope this is making sense, because I feel like I’m rambling. I mean, shouldn’t there be a certain amount of pride in achieving something? Because all I seem to feel is, “Oh well, I guess that’s that”. Over the last few years my focus has been on achieving peace of mind. I’ve learned that achieving goals is to allow growth and to do better. It’s not just a competition to prove yourself worthy. It’s not like I want to sit around the house in a paper diaper and do doing nothing. It’s just that by replacing the future with the present moment, it has given me a clearer perspective. Not only about myself, but for the things around me.  

With a cup of decaf next to me, I begin my day. But it’s not necessarily the beginning of my day. It all started about two hours before when I woke up checking messages sent to me through the night. Some well-wishers, a few haters, and lots of scammers pledging their undying love to me for an account number. God knows how many bots are out there with my face on them. Shit, who I’m kidding. Anyway, after making up the bed, going poppy, and taking my daily dose of meds. Here I am sitting in front of this screen, till my ass gets numb.
 
I went to sleep last night listening to political newscast (yes, I know). So I woke up with a tension headache around 3am, got up and went to the bathroom. Then came back to bed, and listened to a binaural recording with subliminal massaging. I went back to sleep, but my head was full of weird vivid dreams. With messages that put on full display every flaw and fear I have. What was funny was is after waking up, I felt a certain amount of clarity. Like I just passed a test I was worried about. Rather it was meditative or therapeutic or both, it definitely cleared my head.
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But then again, who am I kidding? It won’t too long before my delusions of grandeur are soon wiped away by the troubles of the day. That’s the way it goes in this ever-connected world. Where distractions pull you away from your focus. Leaving you frustrated, confused, and fearful. It’s in those moments when we need a little “me time”. If for a few seconds look outside yourself, maybe at a tree moving outside the window or look at the people walking by. Either way, your stepping away from the madness inside your head. Giving yourself a bird’s eye view of the world and stillness around you.

When light pierces darkness it is considered a relief, a refuge from the storm. But light also exposes the flaws and the cracks in our armor so everyone can see. Even I am particular of the words and images I place on social media. Thinking to myself that I don’t want to be seen in a bad light. Yet here I am, a man of many flaws and shortcomings. A man that has suffered long by my own hand, as well as, by the hand of others. I suppose with age comes some semblance of wisdom, although in my case I often wonder.
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Many people run from the darkness, I on the other hand embrace it. I’ve discovered in those bleakest moments I gain the most insight into my troubled soul. Through mediation I listen to the pain, I’ve learned to deal with those flaws. To give them a voice and not to bury them even deeper in ground of my soul. There’s no great secret to mindfulness, it is awareness, it is listening, it is forgiveness.
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I suppose what I’m say is to live your true self. Don’t be jealous of what others have, but to do your damnest to carve a path for yourself. For so very long I lived in such pain. Burying my emotions in food, envy, and self-pity. While any semblance of perfection is but a pipe dream. I try and I hopefully have evolved. So don’t be afraid of the dark or the light for that matter. When observed through the prism of awareness, happiness and pain become so much clearer. 

I haven’t felt particularly “inspired” as of late. While I feel okay this hot weather has just taken the energy out of me. But that’s not usual, ever since 2017 when I had my little episode on the walking trail. I’ve basically been told to never go out alone, again. So I roll with the punches, trying my damnest to do what my doctors tell me. But sometimes that shit is hard, especially when your mind thinks one thing and your body tells you…No. 

So I lay here in my little prison trying and come up with “Happy Thoughts”. But during the cooler months I had gotten used to spending hours outside. Enjoying nature and just people watching. As the summer drags on, all I’m left with is the hum of the AC, and breeze from the fan, and blacked out windows to control the heat. So while the garden's plowed over, I’m just waiting for cooler weather. 

Stuck here like a gopher waiting for better days. I recently posted a before and after shot of my physical journey these past few years. While the change is encouraging, the damage is done. So I sit here and play the cards I dealt myself. Now while that may go against all positive motivation. For me and many others it’s a hard reality. 
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Listen, I’m not telling you this to discourage you or give you an excuse to just give up. Quite the contrary, use your current situation as a reason to “rise up”. Just because you’re disabled, hurting, or feeling down doesn’t give you an excuse to lay down and die. Let’s be frank, life is meant to be lived. So grab what you got by the balls, and make the most out of the inspiration. 

James was a good guy, raised to be a responsible family man. He had a modest home outside the small town where he grew up. Married his childhood sweetheart and had two kids. James worked at the local mill, a jack of all trades. The work was steady and James was living a good life. But then NAFTA came along and over the next few years small factory after small factory begin to disappear. Pretty soon James’s steady mill job moved overseas. He was there the last few months it took to pack up the mill equipment to ship. In the end, James was the last worker to turn out the lights.
 
James took his unemployment, his severance pay, even did the job training he was required to take. He took every odd job he could find. A few days here, a couple of months there. Finally landing himself a job at another factory 35 miles away. Through it all, James didn’t get too bitter. He just listened quietly to the boys at the hardware store, raving about being the forgotten Americans. And to be honest, they were right. Cheap overseas labor and less regulation killed the working class. But created more wealth for the business class and a new gilded age.

But James and his family were surviving. They grew a few crops, least land to ranchers. His wife worked extra hours at local big box store. They were tried, but they were afloat. Then came the Great Recession. James lost his job at the factory due to cut backs. His wife had her hour cut back to part-time. The bank was sending notices, the house lost all its value. The dream James had built his life on had finally died.

It’s the dawn of yet another decade, James and his wife see nothing but darker days ahead. James is close to retirement age, but not close enough. His health has been failing over years. The few doctor visits he makes are to the free clinic in another county or the ER at a regional hospital. No preventative healthcare, just a patchwork of medications to fend off the diabetes, high blood pressure, chronic back pain. The trailer they now rent sits on the poor side of town and is falling apart. When James is able to work, he fixes trucks, tractors, and small engines. His neighbors and the community as a whole are all in the same boat. Poor, beaten, and rundown.
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This is but a snapshot of literally millions across the United States and frankly around the world. People just trying to feed themselves and their families. Both sides of the political fence waste time blaming each other for this mess. If you ask me, they’re both right. James didn’t come into this world a bitter man. The world made him that way. From the political parties that seek nothing but power. To corporations that see people as nothing more than a commodity. For just a few days, I’d love to see them walk in James’s shoes. But as with most things, change only comes when you turn out the lights. 

I’m sitting here trying to think of something clever to say. But between my phone blowing up with messages and these damn cats demanding my attention, it’s a wonder I can think at all. But the icing on the cake is the fact I’m having my second day of light-headedness and sinus problems. It’s funny how we like to blame any old thing for our troubles, I sure as hell know I do. But in all honesty, troubles usually start with our own attitude about life.

This story isn’t meant for those with situations beyond their control. But for most of us, troubles often start right where we are standing. Life doesn’t come with any guarantees of “happily ever after’, but what it does come with is a lifetime of sweat and troubles to get what you want. I know that in my lifetime so nothing has come easy. I worked and I worked to provide for my family, get my education, and strive to make my dreams come true. Considering how most everything has turned out, it would be easy for me to just be bitter and quit. But instead I have chosen to take life as it comes and make the best of every situation.
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It's funny because the whole time I have been writing this, my phone has still been blowing up. The damn cats are still meowing for attention and my head has continued to hurt. Listen, I am not the best when it comes to overcoming the obstacles of life. I am grumpy, cantankerous, and often not particularly pleasant company (Just ask my family). Still, with the right attitude and a stubborn motivation to win. Troubles just become another challenge to overcome in the game of life.  

We blame this group or that for our perceived fears. Yet we never take the time to ask, why are you so mad? We waste so much time and energy being upset and afraid, that we fail to ask any questions. I love my father-in-law dearly; he is a root, a link to a past nearly long gone. But often his fear and misguided anger drains me. The half-truths and innuendo many are often fed, alleviates all chance for open dialogue. 

Look I understand the anger on both sides of the fence. But the 24-hour news cycles repeat and repeat the same formatted rhetoric. Till frankly, I have to limit my intake of “the daily news”. While I admire the goal of “fair and balanced”, how about we all stop talking in sound bites and quit looking at the world as “one-size-fits-all”. You know why, because it doesn’t. 

Through social media I have conversations with people from around the world. And while do run into the occasional Nigerian prince. For the most part the performers, writers, painters, and everyday people I associate with are decent, gifted, hardworking individuals. We may pray differently, if at all. We may observe different customs. Come from various backgrounds. But we make an effort to get along.
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Listen I ain’t telling you to give up your life. But how about we put aside our fear and misunderstanding. Speak to your neighbor, listen to their concerns. You may be surprised to discover the things you fear the most are one in the same. We don’t need to reinvent the wheel, but the bearings could use a little re-greasing. 

What are we living for, what is our purpose? You know, I’d be lying if I said those thoughts never crossed my mind. When I was living in the “real world”, thoughts like that escaped me. Maybe because I was too busy supporting the world around me. But in these years of waning responsibility, that voice of purpose once again grows stronger. 

I suppose the responsibilities of the real world are enough to call it purpose. But frankly for most of my life those responsibilities were done on autopilot. The rest of the time was wasted watching hours of television or just plain doing nothing. I searched for purpose in my later years. But as I have stated many times, the purpose I achieved left me hollow and wanting more.
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My mindset wasn’t really changed till I started looking deep within myself. Digging deep for the purpose, the desire that truly fueled me. Once I had decided to devote myself to the passion of writing. It was then that purpose and a real sense of living came upon me. I suppose the best thing I can offer anyone is, find something you love. If it’s a thousand different things, then so be it. Rather a one-trick-pony or a jack-all-trades, life is simply too brief to languish away, having no joy. 

It’s kinda funny, after a full day of paying bills, grocery shopping, and out running thunderstorms. I’m sitting here perfectly content shopping for birthdays presents for the grandkids. I mean the day did show me that I’m not invincible. While running around Wal-Jack's, I noticed all the other “old folk” like me. Getting around with their walking canes, and using portable shopping scooters. At the moment my walking cane is in the corner of my bedroom. But it wasn’t that long ago, we were attached at the hip.

The thing is after a full morning of running around and after everything was put away. I found myself needing some rest. So as optimistic as I try to stay, my limitations often catch up with me. But as time changes, so too are the things we need to stimulate us. As a young man, I required excitement, drinking, raising hell, being with my friends. Later there was a little less drinking, a lot more campfires, and good conversation. Now during this phase of my life, I do a lot more reflecting, no drinking, and piles of watching the Grandkids grow.
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Yeah things change, we change, our family and friends change. But it’s all a part of life. Loved one’s come and loved one’s go. And before too long we find ourselves becoming nothing more than a fond memory is our loved one’s mind. But you know what, I’m okay with that. Physically I am but a finite machine and eventually I must go. But till that time, I plan to live, and love, and create as much as I can.

A few years ago, I made peace with my mortality while laying on a hospital gurney in the emergency room of Meadows Regional Hospital. Once the cardiologist was certain I had at least one heart attack, I got wheeled around the hospital for tests, x-rays, and I think an MRI. My home for the next seven days was the PCU, where I had five IVs were inserted filling me with various lifesaving medications. By the time my little vacation had ended, I had received a stent for a closed blood vessel. And I also had to wear a heart monitor-defibrillator for the next six months, which I appropriately named “Bob”. 

It’s been nearly five years since Bob and I parted ways. I’ve made a few more trips back to my friends at MRH for various other heart related issues. But life has been interesting and life has been good during this time. As I said, I had made peace with one of my greatest fears, mortality. I mean I knew for most of my life was in sad shape both physically and mentally. And while the mental part was improving a little at the time. My physical health was beginning to catch up with me. So the seeds of my eventual death had become a full grown tree. 
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The worry I had for my family, weighed heavy on my mind. The upcoming birth of our first grandchild also weighed on my soul. But now with my focus on my recovery, the leftover baggage of fear was taking a backseat to a desire to live. It seems the teachings of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh were finally taking root. I learned that the only moment I could change was the one I was living in now. So yeah, a lot of things have changed since then, I’m a bit heathier, my attitude is more focused, and I’m pretty content with my place in life. We all have our worries, but awareness and gratitude are your best weapons for living a peaceful more satisfying life. 

Is achievement any more important than the wind in your face? Are possessions any more valuable than peace of mind? You see, I spent nearly a lifetime trying to prove myself worthy. By chasing everything from money, to toys, to fame, and even respect. But when I found myself achieving any of these goals, I only found myself wanting more.

While it is easy for me to use my troubled background, my mental health problems, and my current physical situation, as a reason way I must achieve. In a way these problems have been my blessing. They have taught me the importance of patience. The value of peace of mind. And the hidden truth that compassion is the most important attribute of them all.
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Now you may or may not agree with what I’m saying, and that’s okay. Because I doubt, if any of you are going to change my mind. Just know that what I'm telling you is to be your authentic self. With no veneer to polish or anymore lies to live. Because the value you place on yourself, is the greatest gift you can give to you.