In a world of winners, I am just a visitor. Realizing that hyping myself up does nothing but invite misery. I am a realist and I am well aware of my abilities. I know the odds and I know what it takes to win. Winning comes from patience, training, and sense of self. I’ve read every self-help book out there, attended more seminars than I care to mention. Yet it all boils down to ability and self-awareness.
  
But I didn’t start out that way. I was (and still I’m) full of bravado. But inside I was just a warm bowl of jello. It took time to build my confidence and to understand my strengths and weaknesses. But even today I understand, the odds can be stacked against me. So, I do the best I can. Being mindful that not every day is a win and that defeat is can often be its own reward.
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Your goals are not my goals, so take this as you will. Not everyone’s lives are in the same place. For me life is a journey of discovery. To be aware of everyone and everything around me. To feel compassion, for what I see and find some truth within it. I realize that many of you are way too busy to stop, let alone smell the flowers. All I’m saying is to make time to know yourself. To be grateful for what you have and to be wise enough to know what you need. Life isn’t a game or some competition, it’s about the choices we make and the lives we effect. Those are things that determine our path. 

I’ve been inside since I got up, I know it’s nearly three in the afternoon and I should have more sense then to be outside, but here I am. My ass parked under the fig tree/bush and the sycamores. I can hear some youngin’s playing just down the road. There’s a nice warm breeze to keep me entertained, while the smell of fresh cut grass stops up my nose.
 
I’ll be fine under the shade; I told my bride. Listening to the wind ruffle through the leaves. I wish I could bottle this up for urban friends, so they could experience what I see, hear, and smell everyday. I spend a lot of time without my glasses on, I realize they won’t do me much good as the diabetic retinopathy processes. But I can still see the varying shades of light and shadow. The changing hues of green, yellow, and brown as the sun dances with the leaves.

For far too long I didn’t appreciate the things I felt, seen, or touched. I let precious moments slip through my fingers like fine grains of sand. Ambition and dreams are lovely things have, but so to are silence and being still. I wish I had a word for the emotions I feel at the moment. I suppose if nothing else gratitude will have to suffice.
 
“Feeling a wind that has blown across the ocean. Seeing the dew that once fell from someone’s eye. Realizing your love has always been with me. That no amount of pain could ever disguise.”  

Good morning my peeps, well once again I’m up around 3am. This time with a touch of vertigo and a healthy dose of panic attack. It’s funny how over the years my logical mind has learned to function while my body goes through the routine of heart palpitations, shortness of breath, and tremors. It’s almost like a silly ass game of “cat and mouse” waiting for these things to chill out. 

To be honest I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve had a lot of external stress come my way. Things I try to ignore, but still they get under my skin. It seems this “Man of Steel” does have a little kryptonite after all. My breathing is easing up a little bit, the heart slowing down. The aftereffects of these things usually leave me physically and emotionally exhausted, while my logical mind putts along. 

Writing and talking are my savor. It’s usually what calms me down from the chaos that’s going on. When asked who I pray to, for me that’s a difficult subject to tackle. Growing up in a strict evangelical home, where boogers lay under every corner. My parents would say, “let’s just pray that thing out of you”. Well Mom Dad, it doesn’t work that way. 
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The closest thing I have to a religion is meditation and even then, I attach no God to it. Things are feeling a little better. I’m being mindful of my breaths and slowly feeling my mind clear. Where isolation and silence were once the enemy. Now I embrace the solitude and peace they bring. “Do not let your heart be troubled…” (John 14:1 NIV), blows across my mind. Well I’ll be damned, maybe there is some solace in those once hollow words. 

​Fourteen prescriptions some taken multiple times a day. That’s my routine, my habit. Every morning is spent counting out pills sorting them out in doses to be taken at 8am, 3pm, 7pm, and 9:45pm. Each has a purpose I suppose, some critical some not so critical. Each manipulating some function of my damaged body to just keep me going. I don’t really give this portion of my life much thought anymore. Mostly because it has become my routine, my habit.

Listening to the birds around the bird feeder in the morning. I sometimes get a little envious of them. Being able to pick and choose which seeds they prefer, leaving the rest on the ground for the squirrels to pick up. It’s funny how things work in nature, where even my little bit of intervention (bird seed) becomes a part of the natural cycle. Nature often adapts to the things we do. In my case I down chemicals every day that manipulate the effects of things I’ve previously done.

But not everything that we do can be reversed. Within nature and within ourselves, some things you just have to deal with. We pollute the world for convenience and for greed and we selfishly pollute ourselves for the same reasons. While there may be mitigating circumstances for what we do, we should still be mindful of the damage that can be done. But after all are only human, and we are often overcome by the primal fears that are buried deep within us. I live with my mistakes, but I do my best correct them. All I can tell you is, to be mindful of your actions. Listen when pain and fear calls. Don’t ignore what needs fixing and stop every once-in-while and listen to nature. 

Sitting here staring at this blinking curser I wonder, when will I run out of words? In this world of social media, it’s so easy to put your opinions out there amongst the noise. So I have to wonder, will silence ever take over? Sometimes words pour out of me like a flood. At other times the need for silence takes over my being. In this overwhelming world of opinion sometimes silence is my best friend. 
 
Lately I’ve been overcome with feelings of empathy towards those around me. Those who once like myself see no way of escape. This in turn has brought up some unpleasant memories of days I just assume forget. So the world of silence becomes my solitude. I don’t get to take hikes like I used to, but I do have a lot of shade in the backyard, so I sit and mediate. I find that closing my mouth and simply focuses on the peacefulness around me, brings me a certain sense of serenity. 

We spend so much time attached to our devices, we barely look up to see where we are going. Like many being attached to my laptop and phone is an occupational habit. But I still try and take a little time each day to be with yourself and focus on the life that surrounds me. For a really for a really long-time silence was torture to me. To have to listen to my own thoughts screaming painful words was overwhelming. It wasn’t until I learned to listen to the pain, that I began to understand. That I am okay just as I am and worthy of the love and respect I deserve.   

I’m laying here my head slightly on fire, feeling a little high from dinner (Glucose). My vertigo is playing me the fool this evening, especially when I head to the bathroom (don’t ask). Other than that I got my Sheryl Crow playlist going, grinding my teeth to the beat. The evening is a bit unsettled with rain heading this way. But I don’t worry about that since I’ll probably be asleep shortly. 

In a way I feel a bit unsettled, like I’m ready for a little shaking up myself. With so many of us worrying about being our best selves no wonder we're so worked up. I’m kinda past that, opting instead for being creative, free, and satisfied. I’m not really mad at anyone, not even myself. Still I see all this tension even when we’re trying to relax. I mean hell, meditation can be a bitch sometimes. 

A lot of my “country” friends got it right when they leave their rod and tackle box in the back of the truck. We all seem to be looking for some new way to lose ourselves. When all we need to do is unplug and leave the world behind. My oldest went into a panic one time, because I don’t answer the phone. Then got mad because I told her I don’t take my phone to the bathroom.
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Seriously though, the best way I discovered to find myself is to listen to…myself. To those that seek nothing more than to escape themselves, it may sound counter-productive. But honestly what better way to search out what’s bothering you? I spent so much time hating myself, believing the lies and insults I was told. But it all starts with forgiveness, first to yourself, then to those around you. 

One could think I had a particularly bad Father’s Day. Considering I hadn’t gotten a phone call or a card. Also, I felt ill all day with body pains and an earache. But I took a much-needed nap, put a heating pad on my shoulder, and listened to the birds happily chirping around the birdfeeder. So guess what, I started to feel better. You see, good and bad are what you make them. Now that may sound easy to say if you’re feeling okay. But if think about, something only stays bad if you allow it.
 
Four years ago, I nearly drowned in my own fluid. I suffered a heart attack without realizing it the week before and fluid was building in my chest. Now that was bad. But since that time, I have been more conscious about my health. Eating better and doing as much exercise as I can. The pay-off of that bad situation has been a 93lb weight loss and a healthy reassessment of my life.
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The thing is you can’t wish or will bad things away. Because they are coming. The key is to do your best to survive those tragedies and keep moving. Listen it would be so easy to just give up. My bride who lives with a disability that robs her of so much. Gets up every morning and does her best. She tries over and over again, learning and relearning the things we take for granted. How dare me ever feel sorry for myself? Face it, shit is going to come your way. So you cab get mad about, even have a “hissy fit”.  But then dust yourself off, put on your “big boy/big girl panties” and make something positive out of it. 

We breathe, we touch, we see the world with a particular set of eyes. For an artist creativity comes in many forms. I’ve spent my whole life seeing the world with those eyes. Trying to fit my artistic mind into the square pegs of this materialistic world. It’s not that I’m above working, it’s just that the industrial mindset is so devoid of freedom and expression. Rather I realized it or not, it was choking my spirit. 

For many art is nothing more than a distraction. Not a way to connect with the soul, but something to hang on a wall to cover a stain. I don’t expect everyone to understand what I am saying. But that is the beauty of art, to be able to pull from it what you see and feel. I don’t really know what got me thinking about this other than, in a world that values wealth and power over everything. Some things are more valuable than gold. Like the growth of the human spirit and an appreciation of the world and it’s beauty.
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For a really long time I lost my appreciation of beauty, of laughter, and joy. In that world I may have been functional, but I was hardly complete. Take a moment and enjoy the world around. Take time to get caught up in a good story. Look into a piece of art and see what you see. Don’t allow this for-profit industrial mindset to suck your soul dry. Take a moment to touch and to breathe in all the beauty that surrounds you. 

Last Thursday would have been my dad’s 86 birthday. Unfortunately, he passed away at age 59 from heart failure. The funeral was wet and cold, an honor guard played taps and my mother was given a damp folded flag for his service. My kids really don’t remember their granddad, but they see his face every time I show up. He was a good man a good provider. Oh he had his faults, but don’t we all. 

As father’s today we are expected to be a little more engaging, or maybe that’s the way they always been and I never noticed. If I were to ask my kids, was I the perfect parent? I’d get laughed out the room. Not that I was horrible at it, but because I raised a house full of smart asses. All father’s start out wanting to be the best dad. Sadly, we’re also human and prone to doing stupid. So the whole process basically is about winging it. 
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My dad was a fairly easy going, quiet guy. But like I said, he had his demons. A little quick tempered at times, and he could be very verbally abusive, or quick with the belt. We never had too many father/son talks at least not until I had kids of my own. So for a few good years we had something in common. I suppose what I want to say is I miss the man. It’s been 26 years since they folded that flag and every day I understand a little more. About the man, about myself, and what it means to be a dad. 

​We breathe, we touch, we see the world with a particular set of eyes. For an artist creativity comes in many forms. I’ve spent my whole life seeing the world with a particular set of eyes. Trying to fit my artistic mind into the square peg of this materialistic world. It’s not that I’m above working, it’s just that the industrial mindset is so devoid of freedom and expression. Rather I realized it or not, it was choking my spirit.
 
For many art is nothing more than a distraction. Not a way to connect with the soul, but something to hang on a wall to cover a stain. I don’t expect everyone to understand what I am saying. But that is the beauty of art, to be able to pull from it what you see and feel. I don’t really know what got me thinking about this other than, in a world that values wealth and power over everything. Some things are more valuable than gold. Like the growth of the human spirit and an appreciation of the world and it’s beauty. 
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For a really long time I lost my appreciation of beauty, of laughter, and joy. In that world I may have been functional, but I was hardly complete. Take a moment and enjoy the world around. Take time to get caught up in a good story. Look into a piece of art and see what you see. Don’t allow this for-profit industrial mindset to suck your soul dry. Take a moment to touch and to breathe in all the beauty that surrounds you. 

Sometimes I can’t help but feel overwhelmed no matter how simple I try to keep things. Sometimes even the smallest detail will entangle my mind and simply not let go. I suppose I could attribute this to my anxiety and OCD. But often it feels much deeper than that. It’s like all the inadequacies I still have about myself find a way of drowning whatever momentum I may have. 

You ever feel that way?
 
I suppose like every other time that I write, I’ll eventually talk myself out of this funk. But what if I come to a point where I can’t? I often find it hard to slowdown. It’s like a fire in my belly where I gotta say, what I gotta say. It’s in those moments when I hear the doubt and fear. That disguise themselves as rational thought, leaving me asking myself again and again, why are you wasting my time?
 
To follow my heart or to follow my head? That’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately. All I know is, when I follow my heart, I gain more insight, and I find more peace. But there are still moments when I feel like such a failure. That no matter how confident I am in my abilities, the silence around me becomes deafening. 
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I mention my emotions quite a bit, that’s because my work and creativity tie directly into my emotions. Maybe you suffer the same fate. Maybe you wrestle with your dreams and your reality. At the moment I don’t know what to tell you, other than to take it one step at a time. Rest when you should and don’t push yourself to oblivion. It seems as creators we are all have our moments of doubt, so let’s continue on our journeys and see it through. 

Even through the hundreds of stories I’ve told. There are still moments when I ask myself why. Why do I continue this quest to share my experiences? To tell my story. To a point, those are very valid arguments. I mean I could put more focus on my own situation. Create less pressure on myself by directing my energy elsewhere. And I suppose to billions of people around the world this is very true. But I just can’t shake this feeling that my life was meant for something more.

Maybe this is just a nutty ego thing on my part. But if my writing says anything, it’s certainly not about ego. I suppose for me I do what I do for the pure joy of creating. Second, it’s become my therapy and often times my meditation. While it may seem silly to put in all the hours and afford, I put into this, with very little reward. I still love doing it.
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I suppose what I should be telling myself is that the reward is more internal than external. That often is the reward we give ourselves. That our gifts should be much more than just an investment externally. But that they are gifts given spiritually as well. I long ago realized my gifts will never reap me any real financial reward, but that the gifts I have received are spiritual. That for me more than makes up for any financial loss, so I’ll keep creating.

​I was reminded a little while ago how simple things can bring so much pleasure. It brought back memories of living on the river and teaching myself to cook. Having to make my own bed and wash my own clothes. Having so little room, when friends would come over we had to sat outside. Drinking beer, talking shit, and staring at the stars. I’ve often spoke about the fish camp, sitting on a bluff next to the river. How simple life was compared to now, and how complicated it felt back then. 

With maturity comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes more of your moments getting stolen away. Looking back just the last 30 years and the whole thing seems a blur. I worked, I raised, I provided; but it wasn’t until a few years ago that I really grew. For better or for worse, my life has changed, my priorities have changed. I’ve learned to appreciate the moments. To savor the food I eat, enjoy good conversation, and to appreciate every breath I take. 

It’s sad to see my children running around never really enjoying the moment. Even my bride continues to go at a hurried pace. Often getting frustrated with me, because I’m so slow. But I’ve leaned, if I don’t slowdown and take a moment; physically and mentally, I can feel it. Maybe you’re not in as crappy a shape as I am. But that shouldn’t stop you from slowing down and appreciating the world around you. Do your best to un-complicate your life. Give some conscious thought to what you need and don’t need. Used to I couldn’t wait to get away from that river. Now I so wish I was back there again. 

It’s funny how the highs and lows of life work themselves out. Just a few days ago I was writing about how happy my doctor was with my progress. My blood pressure, A1C, and weight were looking good. But then my lab work comes back and my GP needs to wants to consult with my cardiologist to see what they want to do medication wise. My life often seems like a perpetual rollercoaster ride between doing well and getting worse. 

I often bring up my mental health issues and how they play a part in my overall well being. It’s just all the waiting that makes the anxiety roll all over me. I can’t get an appointment with my cardiologist till July. So it puts me in yet another holding pattern of wonder and worry. It seemed so much easier when I just had heart issues. Now the cure is becoming the illness. 
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But I do what I do, and jot down my emotions on this damn screen. Hoping to at least talk myself down. As much as I like to tell people not to give up, I can’t seem to get the gum off my own shoe. But ain’t that the way it is, talking is so much easier than listening most of the time. All we can do is mosey through life doing the best we can. That doesn’t mean we give up, it just means putting one foot in front of the other till we reach our goals. 

Usually my doctor’s visits are a mixed bag of good and bad. Last time I went to my GP she was concerned about my liver and how some of my medications maybe effecting it. Then she was concerned I was losing weight too fast. What my new doctor didn’t understand, until today is, you never tell someone with panic and health anxiety about the “what ifs”. So for the last three months my anxiety has been at a slow boil.
 
Slow and steady I’ve made a lot of progress health wise over the last four years. Plenty of irreversible damage has been done, but I’m determined not to give up without a fight. I suppose that’s the point I want to make. Even with all the shit I got going against me, I’m not quitting. But I seem to have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing a lot of people that just give up. To take the situation in front of them and say, “well that’s it”. 
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First I had to overcome a mental breakdown just to move. Then at 45 dissatisfied with the direction my life was going I went back to college. At 50 earned my bachelor’s degree and at 53 I finished my Master’s. Around that same time, I had my first heart attack. I could have easily given up. Through the highs and lows of my health journey I haven’t given up. Even today three months after having my fear got amped up. That same Doctor was happy to see my A1C go way down, I lost another 9lbs, and we had a long conversation about health anxiety. I was still given more tests and I still have cardiologist to see. But life is meant to be lived, not buried or to be felt sorry for. Just do your best, the rest will take care of itself.

I look back decades ago to a place in my life where I was struggling. To a point where I was regrouping and still licking my wounds. Between night and day, I struggle to find my footing again. Because before I was so sure I got it right, that I was in the place where I needed be. But the flames of love have a way of dying.   What was once white hot now lay charred and lifeless. So we lashed out with words of hate and anger. To the point where we didn’t recognize each other anymore. 

So often we ignore what is right in front of us. That peace, that calm we remembered. Yet we were so afraid to touch it. So afraid it would dissolve right in our hands. So we run away trying to recreating that feeling somewhere else. Only to find ourselves back where we were, lost and in pain. I cannot count how many times I thought of you. Perfect in your imperfection. Bold, stubborn, and wise. 
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Traveling in different directions, we seemed polar opposites. Yet dreaming the same dreams. Lust has long passed the point in which I live. But love and connection, now that’s where the truth lies. A place where we read each other’s thoughts, without speaking a word. Life needs more of that; I need more of that. Chores and routine are fine but real life has to come into play. Igniting each other’s passions. Celebrating each other’s individuality, and not snuffing out each other’s dreams. That’s what I miss, that’s what I desire. That’s where I need to be. 

When you remove all the paint and the stain, you’re usually left with a nice piece of wood. But sometimes when you take all the layers off, you’re left with a piece of wood that’s best left covered up. That’s how it is with most people, we wear a suit of armor. Mostly because we are afraid, but sometimes to cover up the scars. Old wounds remind us of the battles we’ve fought and survived. For some the scars are quite obvious, but for others concealer works best.
 
For those of us that bear the mental scars of bullying and abuse. The scars seem to be easy to conceal. From the outside we appear as normal as anyone else.  The armor we wear is an impenetrable force that let’s no one see the pain and hurt we carry. I myself wear an armor of humor and sharp wit. While other’s I know wear an armor of toughness and no pain. Either way they are but a hard shell that buries inside it the very thing that weighs us down. 
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I’m not here to tell you that you should expose all the scars and wounds you carry. That’s for you to decide. All I know is, the pain I carried couldn’t begin to heal until I let it go. And what I discovered was a fellow this is as honest with himself as he ever had. Armor can protect the soft spots, but it can also limit your agility and vision. Do as much as you can to free yourself of the chains that bind you. Don’t be afraid of who you are. Our experiences may shape us, but it’s our desires that make us. Don’t let your past slow you down.