I am.
What a powerful statement. There are about a million different directions that sentence can go. Verbs, Nouns, Adjectives. The most beautiful part of that sentence to me, is that it's up to us to finish it. I like to look at it the same way that I'd look at a blank page, or perhaps an Ad-lib. You can let others finish your sentence for you, let them determine who you are, and what you are. But why would you? You have the power to turn that sentence, that statement, into anything, and anyone you want. Let me give you an example.
This is me letting someone else complete my sentence.
I am worthless. I am overweight. I am the guy that lives down the street. I am unwanted. I am wearing a red shirt.
Do you notice how those range from hurtful, to meaningless? Good. That's important.
This is me finishing my own sentence.
I am funny. I am good looking. I am strong. I am a good friend. I am intelligent.
When we let others dictate our sentence, occasionally they will fill your book with uplifting, and helpful things. Mostly, they will make it a book that hurts to read. When we write our own books, and finish our own sentences, we can look back, and read through it, seeing our strengths, and our accomplishments.
I'd like to demonstrate something else.
I am worthless, at wedding design. I am overweight, but I have a great personality. I am the guy that lives down the street, who is a good neighbor. I am unwanted in a fashion pagent.
Do you see how even when others tried to complete my sentences, I don't let them write my book. I'm not perfect. I don't claim to be. But I am not worthless, and I don't find my confidence in what others think of me. When we give others the power to control us, and to write our book, we're saying that we don't even think enough of ourselves to pick up a pen.
The beautiful thing about being able to write our own stories, is that we have the power, the ability, and the responsibility to pick up the pen. To look inside, to look around, and see that we're so much more than what others would write about us. Your book isn't going to be filled with all good sentences. We make mistakes, and we can't erase our sentences. But we can write more good, and beautiful sentences than negative ones. Your book, your story, your sentences, and your life are in your hands. Don't let someone else write it for you. Pick up your pen, and get to writing.
Make your story worth reading.
What's your book going to say?
James.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Cave dwellers
Welcome back friends. This blog post is going to be quite a bit more random than the last. My mind is filled to the brim, with thoughts that just need to come out. So you'll see a bit of poetry perhaps, some aimless rambling, as well as (hopefully) some insight. So come on in, take a seat if you will, and listen.
As we attempt to navigate this crazy maze called life, we do the best we can, with what we've got. No one hands us a manual, and no one tells us which way to go. Of course there is those that give advice, and some who share their life experiences. But are we truly living if we only go on the advice of others? Don't we need to make mistakes ourselves? Feel the beautiful pain that stays with us, and the ugly, terrible happiness that is fleeting? Of course we do. For if we don't, we reside in a bubble that isn't truly life. We skate, and slide through this amazing tragedy that is life. It hurts. It aches, and burns, and breaks us down, and beats us until we think we can't go on anymore. But those of us that have felt the pain, and lived with the torn hearts, with the lost souls that belong to those that don't want them, we know what it is to truly live. Because we feel all the more deeply those moments that are terribly, hopelessly, painfully happy. We see the tiny spark that is our matching soul in the spinning darkness of the abyss. We float through the darkness, rarely seeing the light. We are the cave dwellers, the monsters at the bottom of the ocean. Those that live on the surface, that don't deal with our brokenness, can't understand, don't wish to understand, and never will understand. They have lived in the light of the sun their whole lives, and if they were to descend, would go blind. We are stronger than the surface dwellers. We feel more deeply, we love more strongly, and we live more fully. We are the cave dwellers.
I don't find comfort in the sunny days. To me, they seem a sham. A façade. Something fake, because it makes everything stand out. But the nights, the days with the cloud cover, and the chill in the air, those are the real days. The days that show the faults. Because without the sun burning, faking, trying to tell everyone that everything is fine and well, we see things as they are. People as they are. We might have more layers on the outside during the real days, but inside we bear our souls. To those willing to see them. as well as to those who also seek comfort away from the façade. But the nights, oh the nights. The moon shines down upon us, showing our faults, showing people's real side's. No one can hide their true selves in the light of the moon. Sure, they can hide their bodies. But not the real side of themselves. Those of us that find solace in the moon, we are the true people. You always know that in the light of the moon, you needn't hide your broken soul, your torn heart, your sundered self. We walk aimlessly under the stars, searching for those with the pieces that fit ours. While we know we may never find them. But that's okay. Because we are the cave dwellers. We can live in the abyss. We don't need the light to survive. We strive for the places where we can watch the lights extinguish one by one, until all there is, is the light from the moon, the stars, and the small sparks of the other lost souls. We are the cave dwellers.
I wander the roads, wondering where home is. I think to myself, maybe this is my home. Perhaps I was born to always wander, born with a gypsy soul, one that can never truly be at peace. This thought, while it may be unsettling to some, puts me at peace. Because I am therefore home, wherever I choose to be. While my soul may never rest, I am used to traversing the abyss. I am at home where others can never be. I don't need the house with the picket fence, the two car garage. I need the darkness, the light of other wanderers is enough. With the restless soul, perhaps one day it will find solace in another, but It matters not. I am the cave dweller.
You sit in an office, in a truck, in a store, surrounded by others contented with their lives. You look longingly out the window, to the rising sun, and feel dread. You walk the dark alleys, under the same moon. The moon that has always given peace. The stars of a million eyes shine overhead, and seem to light your path. You seek, and look, and search for a place to rest, a hand to hold, and a heart to have. Of the few you've found, none give what your ripped heart need. You see a spark in the darkness, that of another lost soul, and in it you find solace, for you're not the only one misplaced in this crazy world. Never finding home, with those that are near. Never being contented, always lonely in a room full of people. Surrounded by the light dwellers, you wonder if something is wrong with you. If you're supposed to change to fit their mold of who you're supposed to be. But never fret, they're nowhere near as happy as they seem to be. They are the dwellers of the light. They live on the surface, and pretend they're not drowning. But you know how to swim. The darkness is an old friend. You are a cave dweller. Find peace in this.
As I sit writing these words, I find they resonate deeply within me. I don't think, I merely let my fingers type what is in my soul. It is calming. I know that i'm not alone, even though i'm lonely. The lights overhead seem to shine too brightly, and cut through the momentary peace I find. While my heart sings the lonely song, I too, see a spark in the distance. I will follow the lights of the others. Because we are the Cave dwellers.
Thanks for reading this far, and remember, if you're in the darkness, find your spark.
We are.
James.
As we attempt to navigate this crazy maze called life, we do the best we can, with what we've got. No one hands us a manual, and no one tells us which way to go. Of course there is those that give advice, and some who share their life experiences. But are we truly living if we only go on the advice of others? Don't we need to make mistakes ourselves? Feel the beautiful pain that stays with us, and the ugly, terrible happiness that is fleeting? Of course we do. For if we don't, we reside in a bubble that isn't truly life. We skate, and slide through this amazing tragedy that is life. It hurts. It aches, and burns, and breaks us down, and beats us until we think we can't go on anymore. But those of us that have felt the pain, and lived with the torn hearts, with the lost souls that belong to those that don't want them, we know what it is to truly live. Because we feel all the more deeply those moments that are terribly, hopelessly, painfully happy. We see the tiny spark that is our matching soul in the spinning darkness of the abyss. We float through the darkness, rarely seeing the light. We are the cave dwellers, the monsters at the bottom of the ocean. Those that live on the surface, that don't deal with our brokenness, can't understand, don't wish to understand, and never will understand. They have lived in the light of the sun their whole lives, and if they were to descend, would go blind. We are stronger than the surface dwellers. We feel more deeply, we love more strongly, and we live more fully. We are the cave dwellers.
I don't find comfort in the sunny days. To me, they seem a sham. A façade. Something fake, because it makes everything stand out. But the nights, the days with the cloud cover, and the chill in the air, those are the real days. The days that show the faults. Because without the sun burning, faking, trying to tell everyone that everything is fine and well, we see things as they are. People as they are. We might have more layers on the outside during the real days, but inside we bear our souls. To those willing to see them. as well as to those who also seek comfort away from the façade. But the nights, oh the nights. The moon shines down upon us, showing our faults, showing people's real side's. No one can hide their true selves in the light of the moon. Sure, they can hide their bodies. But not the real side of themselves. Those of us that find solace in the moon, we are the true people. You always know that in the light of the moon, you needn't hide your broken soul, your torn heart, your sundered self. We walk aimlessly under the stars, searching for those with the pieces that fit ours. While we know we may never find them. But that's okay. Because we are the cave dwellers. We can live in the abyss. We don't need the light to survive. We strive for the places where we can watch the lights extinguish one by one, until all there is, is the light from the moon, the stars, and the small sparks of the other lost souls. We are the cave dwellers.
I wander the roads, wondering where home is. I think to myself, maybe this is my home. Perhaps I was born to always wander, born with a gypsy soul, one that can never truly be at peace. This thought, while it may be unsettling to some, puts me at peace. Because I am therefore home, wherever I choose to be. While my soul may never rest, I am used to traversing the abyss. I am at home where others can never be. I don't need the house with the picket fence, the two car garage. I need the darkness, the light of other wanderers is enough. With the restless soul, perhaps one day it will find solace in another, but It matters not. I am the cave dweller.
You sit in an office, in a truck, in a store, surrounded by others contented with their lives. You look longingly out the window, to the rising sun, and feel dread. You walk the dark alleys, under the same moon. The moon that has always given peace. The stars of a million eyes shine overhead, and seem to light your path. You seek, and look, and search for a place to rest, a hand to hold, and a heart to have. Of the few you've found, none give what your ripped heart need. You see a spark in the darkness, that of another lost soul, and in it you find solace, for you're not the only one misplaced in this crazy world. Never finding home, with those that are near. Never being contented, always lonely in a room full of people. Surrounded by the light dwellers, you wonder if something is wrong with you. If you're supposed to change to fit their mold of who you're supposed to be. But never fret, they're nowhere near as happy as they seem to be. They are the dwellers of the light. They live on the surface, and pretend they're not drowning. But you know how to swim. The darkness is an old friend. You are a cave dweller. Find peace in this.
As I sit writing these words, I find they resonate deeply within me. I don't think, I merely let my fingers type what is in my soul. It is calming. I know that i'm not alone, even though i'm lonely. The lights overhead seem to shine too brightly, and cut through the momentary peace I find. While my heart sings the lonely song, I too, see a spark in the distance. I will follow the lights of the others. Because we are the Cave dwellers.
Thanks for reading this far, and remember, if you're in the darkness, find your spark.
We are.
James.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
The reason
Hello friend. I'd say old friend, or new friend, but why bother putting labels such as these on a thing such as friendship. Come in, take a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? A smoke? Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm glad you've stopped by. See, I don't get many visitors here in my head, it's a rather cluttered and difficult place to understand. Let's have a conversation, one that no one wants to have, and one that is quite uncomfortable to have. But first, Let us get to know each other a bit better shall we? You obviously already know my name, or you wouldn't know how to find the place! What you may not know, is that I'm a relatively simple guy. I don't much care for fanciness or the like. I live a simple life, don't have much that I don't need. Now, I am certainly not saying that I'm anything but blessed, because I am extremely blessed. What I'm saying is, I don't have much in the way of frivolity. I don't much see a point in it. I have a few close friends that I hold dear, and would do anything for them, as I'm sure they would do for me. I love my family, and that isn't just those that are blood. I don't fancy myself a philosopher or anything of the sort. But I have a multitude of thoughts running through my head, and decided I wanted to get them down. And if one out of a million that reads this finds solace, or someone who has similar thoughts, that's more than I could have ever asked for.
Now, let's get back to our conversation. Suicide. That big scary word that no one wants to talk about. Some of you have people in your lives that have been lost to suicide. My heart breaks for you. Others of you, haven't lost anyone close to you. Some of you, Like me, deal with depression, and have thoughts of ending your own lives. And there's bound to be some of you, who are happy as a blue jay, and nothing can bring you down. how dearly I wish I could be the way you are. Some who think they know me, are thinking right about now, "How is this possible? He's one of the happiest people I know!" The reason my friends, is because I love to see the people around me happy. If I can make someone laugh, someone smile, or even just be a small spark in their darkness, it's enough for me to have a moment of happiness. Now please don't think I'm saying I hate my life, or that I need a thousand emails saying how you're there for me, and please don't do it, because It's not the case. I suffer from depression. This is the case. I have been prescribed anti-depressants, and yes, I take them. This doesn't magically make me Mr. Happy all the time. I still deal with my depression, and I still struggle with my suicidal thoughts. It's not because I hate myself, or because I get bullied by people on facebook. It's just a fact, a facet of my personality.
I do my best to lift people up, and to try and encourage those around me, because it's just part of who I am. That being said, I am unhappy. It's not for any one reason, but I think it's rather a combination of multiple things. Things I have done, things I haven't done. Where I'm at, as well as where I'm not. I don't contemplate suicide because I'm a coward. I'm not a coward. I know some people will say, "It doesn't end the chance of things getting worse, It ends the possibility of them getting better." This might be true. And if some people find solace in that quote, I am so happy for them. I personally do not find any hope or any encouragement there. I don't see an ending point. I don't see where things start getting better. I know it's selfish, and that it's the "easy way out". I realize all these things.
The reason I haven't taken my own life, is because of you reading this. My friends, my family, those who need me in their lives. I've noticed with the advent of "Social Media" we are more connected to people around the block, across the state, on the other side of the nation, even those opposite us on the globe. We also are more disconnected with those we seem to care most about. Those that we want in our everyday lives, those that were closest to us. If you take one thing away from reading this my friends, let it be this- Turn to those you care most about. Tell them how much you care about them. Let them know how much they matter, and turn to someone if you need help. Have friends. Even just one. One that will encourage you, and be your reason.
Who's your reason? Let them know.
Make your life incredible,
James.
Now, let's get back to our conversation. Suicide. That big scary word that no one wants to talk about. Some of you have people in your lives that have been lost to suicide. My heart breaks for you. Others of you, haven't lost anyone close to you. Some of you, Like me, deal with depression, and have thoughts of ending your own lives. And there's bound to be some of you, who are happy as a blue jay, and nothing can bring you down. how dearly I wish I could be the way you are. Some who think they know me, are thinking right about now, "How is this possible? He's one of the happiest people I know!" The reason my friends, is because I love to see the people around me happy. If I can make someone laugh, someone smile, or even just be a small spark in their darkness, it's enough for me to have a moment of happiness. Now please don't think I'm saying I hate my life, or that I need a thousand emails saying how you're there for me, and please don't do it, because It's not the case. I suffer from depression. This is the case. I have been prescribed anti-depressants, and yes, I take them. This doesn't magically make me Mr. Happy all the time. I still deal with my depression, and I still struggle with my suicidal thoughts. It's not because I hate myself, or because I get bullied by people on facebook. It's just a fact, a facet of my personality.
I do my best to lift people up, and to try and encourage those around me, because it's just part of who I am. That being said, I am unhappy. It's not for any one reason, but I think it's rather a combination of multiple things. Things I have done, things I haven't done. Where I'm at, as well as where I'm not. I don't contemplate suicide because I'm a coward. I'm not a coward. I know some people will say, "It doesn't end the chance of things getting worse, It ends the possibility of them getting better." This might be true. And if some people find solace in that quote, I am so happy for them. I personally do not find any hope or any encouragement there. I don't see an ending point. I don't see where things start getting better. I know it's selfish, and that it's the "easy way out". I realize all these things.
The reason I haven't taken my own life, is because of you reading this. My friends, my family, those who need me in their lives. I've noticed with the advent of "Social Media" we are more connected to people around the block, across the state, on the other side of the nation, even those opposite us on the globe. We also are more disconnected with those we seem to care most about. Those that we want in our everyday lives, those that were closest to us. If you take one thing away from reading this my friends, let it be this- Turn to those you care most about. Tell them how much you care about them. Let them know how much they matter, and turn to someone if you need help. Have friends. Even just one. One that will encourage you, and be your reason.
Who's your reason? Let them know.
Make your life incredible,
James.
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