When you own both the Mirror and what It shows.

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Self Reflection… is there anymore an odious concept to which one can prescribe to doing, but in reality are more deceptive to ourselves about and even more so to others. Oh we will espouse our courageous journeys undertaken through its means, and then with scholarly countenance speak of how many our own virtues we discovered, like ancient treasures along the hallowed path of introspection we took.

What we almost never mention, it is what we really found, inside us.

No Self Reflection, is complete without a walk along the dark roads of us.

The place where we find our vices, failings, our petty grudges and lingering resentments, our spitefulness and self loathing, all lurking within us as they are in everyone else.

Then there is the avenues of our sufferings, wounds and scars, lamentations and regrets, this winding on and on, seeming to never end.

It is not for me to say that one cannot find themselves in the shimmering truth of what their own Mirror may show, It is just so very few, even at times myself, will truly own all of what is there before them.

The pain that makes us Endure us, Saves no one.

 

20161209_081622Everyone experiences Pain, and at some point, should it not consume us, and in that consumption leave behind a husk of anger and bitter regret, we will most often sentimentalize what has become of us having staved off pain’s hungry efforts upon us.

The bizarre irony, that we seem almost euphoric, to proclaim as loudly as possible, we have been hurt, how much, by what and whom, and that we are still here , and we can now regale any and all with our stories of woe, our elaborate Tales of suffering.

All the while forgetting, what is most important, that those who are still hurting, whom pain is still slowly grinding into grist, or carving away at with some opulent blade as it feeds amidst royal splendor, while its victim abides in desperate squalor.

If you are hurting it can be hard to see the hurt of another, but if you are merely celebrating the memory of a wound, and paying no heed to another, you are likely to just create another wound someplace else in your revelry.

Help the hurting, even if your hurting, sometimes that’s the only way the everyone can heal. If you are lucky enough to have healed from any pain, you know then how precious a gift that can be.

 

Emotions that to Me Belong.

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To feel is the tie that binds us to the world. Mankind does not have exclusivity on Emotions, for the whole of the world that lives has feelings of one type or another. Yet it is only man that levies a value on it, and only man whom may labor to craft it and make it meaningless all at once.

We play with them like toys, twist them, for suffering and gain. We can also wield them like weapons, wear them like armor; cutting another to the soul in depth, or shielding us and others as a impenetrable force.

The truth is, Emotions are mans greatest asset.. and most devastating means.

Yet with each of us, there is fact that if embraced, we can live and be at peace with ourselves, and perhaps the world we share.

Our emotions belong to us.

Each and everyone of us.. all are the sole guardian and absolute master of how we feel.

Fear, Guilt, Happiness, Regret, Lust, Mercy, Vengeance, Humility, Shame, Pride, Joy, Hope…. Love………… the list is endless

Every emotion .. we may ever know.. ever feel.. was always ours to decide.

What power it gives us, we create… and when another wields them upon us, it is because we have surrendered their stewardship to them.

We decide what we feel, and what we will be made to feel.

And whatever it is you want to feel.. whenever you would feel it.. whomever you wish to feel it with.. can happen as we want when we truly realize who decides the feelings themselves

They are decided by whom to which they Belong.

Eventually, We all want to go home….

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There are so many  parables, expressions, anecdotes, and clever little phrases that we turned to about taking to some sort of journey.

In fact, most, if not all of us, have some sense of wanderlust within us, a baited sense of adventure, or unrequited childhood fantasy to visit some distant and wonderful land.

For many of us, even myself, much of those inklings, thankfully have been sated. For certain, there are many, oh so many of this worlds wonders, and its peoples I have yet to see and meet, but I have now done my fair share to be sure.

Yet there is really another type of journey, or I should say, another more poignant, more heartfelt part of one, that those of us that have seen and done sometimes lose sight of.

Those wayward, haunted and broken souls, simply trying to find their way home.

I have been on that final leg, So easy it is to forget.. It should be an easy location to mark on a map, the memory of it should as automatic as muscle memory, Yet for some, the Journey they have undertaken.. the terrible places they have gone, the horrible wrong turns, often doubling back, even getting lost .. breaking down.. Its all they can do just to hold on.. to one thought.

“I just want to go Home.”

In the end it is what we all want, what defines it, is something both time  and the journey will change, and in that so shall we. To this I can speak with certainty.

Eventually, We all want to go home.

No matter who, what, or where, that turns out to be.

 

 

When we seek the great Wonders of the smallest space we can find.

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As a Child, despite the hardships of Sleeplessness, reconstructive surgeries, and the all to frequent broken bone, I was seldom, if ever, unhappy. In fact, I recall with great fondness the joys of my own imagination. This of course never restrained or lessened in any way by my parents, who perhaps saw its purity as my means to ease what they may have seen as much more suffering than a child should bear.

As I spent more days than not, physically bound within the space of a hospital bed, bedroom, house, or a patch of dirt and grass scarcely beyond a front porch, with the endless sky held at bay a by a line of tall pines marking the not so distant other side of the street.

There is no greatness in the child of me that I will lay claim to that allowed for such wonderment that filled by days will flights of fantasy and kept the constraints of the world around me from closing in even further. That would belong to my parents, and on this for the sake of unapologetic pride, I will state as fact.

The point in all this, is that childhood distraction, so carefully nurtured for me, has become my most powerful of life tools now.

To realize any place, I am, no matter where I have let myself come to, where life has taken me, or where I might think I have found myself.. with no other place to go.. I can be.. any place I want, in an instant, and by that find myself right where I want or need to be. And that sometimes, well that can be just a good place to start.

Sometimes imagination isn’t about thinking very big at all. Its about being in that Smallest Space that we find.. and All the wonders we Let ourselves see.

 

 

It is never as bad as you Think, its how you think about it.

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It goes without saying, or at this moment it will, that I have had what some could think as a Bad go of things from time to time. I would be remiss if I did not add a disclaimer on the volumes to which I have regaled on just that very thing.

I am not taking this moment to issue some sort of invalidating retraction of the very same, but to add the appropriate counterweight.

A thought… its specific gravity, mass, velocity, vector, inertia, and force, its burden, hardship, wound, devastation, malevolence, bitterness, or its suffering upon us…..

Is Shit we do to ourselves..

Now .. what made it(Thought) could be Someone else, Something else, and even ourselves(which is like a doubling down on the Shit Part.) I, we, you, they, the person who will not stop talking to the Barista and is holding up your latte(Yeah.. That Shit, that’s on them) Was real, and worth the moment it happens, to think it over.

 

And after it has happened, it may very well have left a wound right across your soul.

but after that.. It will heal, the moment you let it.

Its More than something to think about, its how you think about it, and that’s all on, and completely in.. you.

Just a thought, I thought not so bad to share about me to you.

 

 

 

The Deafening sounds of when we lay quiet awhile.

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We have all been in that place, where just before, or just after, our lives have been thunder struck with something that will forever change every thought we have, every memory we possess, and every reason for either, and the force of it all makes just lay quiet a while, and think.

We are not resigned, scared, contemplative, or even at peace with it. Instead we are like the palm tree just before the tsunami strikes.

We Register that it will make no difference how we would respond, the results will be the same. So we simply ….wait.

Is it our need to find power in powerlessness, are we actually in control having none at all?

In that moment, that question cant be ask or answered, in the deafening sounds as we lay quiet a while.