That moment when you learn, you are not worth the fight.

People can be callous, indifferent, selfish, or without the will…. to have will for so many things.20161210_214728.jpg The range of these situations and circumstances are as diverse as we as individuals.

We anecdote such moments in such ways as “I just don’t have time for it” I really don’t care about it” or “It’s just not worth more my time”

When we presented as such.. we begrudgingly admit, we may do the same.. with distractions, or hobby, recreation, novelty or the like.

Yet at times… it takes a more ominous and darker tone… like when a relationship or marriage ends.. or when a parent, be it divorce or simply life.. just abandons any effort, instead focusing on the easier and more rewarding part of their lives.. or at the very least.. that part causes the least woe..

This can also happen child to parent, sibling to sibling… Some of us carve out a neat .. comfortable and manageable world where our own conscience never need be revisited.. so whether it be child, parent, partner, loved one or sibling… we can erase them .. usually with the help with someone in our life.. who best prefers our attentions and.. cares little for what our conscience might bear.

But for those who are discarded… they do not cease to exist.. despite their excommunication, and state of non existence.. however justly, or unjustly earned. They abide in a place that few know, and fewer still can ever know the pain of

“Do you remember when I was something to you?”

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Don Quixote, a Lemming, and a idiot, all walk towards a Clift..

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Selfishness is perhaps the most common traits to being human, of the human condition. It has the capacity to take so many different variations in demonstrations of its existence. It can be petty, an overlord to jealousy, or just as a servant to insecurity, or even a brawling enforcer of fear.

It in its many manifestation, does not solely define the individual, because pain, sorry and loss wield it, for better or worse, to their own ends,

Selflessness, this altruistic grab bag of actions,  that we may parttake in, is often what happens to the selfishness in us when we wake up, along with our conscience, on the other side of the bed.

We find that selfishness can be assuage by serving another, and not making another suffer it. Our intentions we will polish up with the Shine of charity, humbleness, even when enough are watching, a noble sheen.

It could be said, that it is the road less taken, on the great journey to where the end justifies the means. That gentle place where there is no fear, our insecurities may never find us, a place of plenty were we need not covet another’ and there are no windmills that me may joust to show, we are worth something to this world.

But for some, Selfishness, and Selflessness take us right to the same place of were we are just steps a way from a step too far, having not realized how perilous a journey we were upon, how many we were leading down our path or whom we were chasing desperately in our flight, failing to see where either was really taking us.

Sooner of later we will follow or lead someone else right over the edge of a cliff that we saw coming, and whether we see ourselves noble or frightened, it won’t change the damage done, after the fall.

Sometimes, Neither Selfishness, or Selflessness, helps us at all, sometimes, its just, being sure, your being yourself.

Learning to cope, written Febuary 22, 2009. (Excerpt from 10,000 Sleepless Nights.)

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Learning to cope…

 

Memory has its own identity, and we struggle each time we learn this anew.

         We can recall the nature of our own life in the countless reminiscence of all we have known.

Yet there are times when so powerful are the events that alter every course of our being, that in a single stroke of fate’s merciless pen are every memory redefined.

 

All we may recall is recast, every binding emotion torn asunder, and at once, who we were in our memories is no longer us at all.

 

Memories of Love become regret, devotion becomes purposeless toil, kindness is now is mocking placation.

 

We remember being part of something;

no we only realize we were just simply there, as we are now.

 

Alone.

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.

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.