BAD

Be a disappointment.   Be proud of being a disappointment.  One day you will cease to be a disappointment,

I use to be different.  I use to think certain aspects of life were more important than others.  I use to be judgemental in the extreme.  I use to pretend to understand.  I use to think people should try harder.  I use to think people who didn’t measure up were lazy and unambitious.  I use to think my idea of success was the absolute correct view. I use to believe that the amount of sleep people carved out was a pursuing of idleness in which the only purpose was to avoid more meaningful and productive ways of spending the time that forever-more tick tocked away on the invention geared to define our terrestrial journey.

Now I think, Dream, imagine and do differently.

The car I was driving was the ‘thing’ that stopped a teenage driver.  My car likely saved many others. The Ford emblem from the front grill was on the dash and the internal door handle of the front passenger side was on top of the hand brake.  Bones were fractured from my head to my toes - literally.  I learned about soft tissue experientially. Breathing each breath was a reminder of my agreement to be born on earth and accept the diversions, challenges and consequences. 

I can’t really say what the most painful injury was.  My chest felt like a gorilla was playing pick up sticks with my  ribs while my eyes burned with the inability to focus offering fuel to my Terror of what all this would mean for my future, and more importantly the future of my child.  My head pounded in a cadence not even the second hand of time could define.  Choice became a privilege only hoped for on the boundary of my imagined existence.  People are strong and resilient.  We don’t know the way really, but we somehow keep searching for the life path that is uniquely ours.

As we step in sync with the song of whales, the clap of thunder, the splatter of rain, the gushing of the waves,  the grating grit of sand, the coolness of mud, the sky devoid of illumination inadequate for  our night wonderings, the stroke of the finest sable  across the blackness of space, shadows of the moon and the care-Free embodiment of all of nature nurturing us to the beyond.

We all gravitate to the imperfect.  Our living is the absolute embodiment of imperfection.  Ions of existence should render us comfortable with it. Yet it doesn’t. Why?

Maybe because we want to wrap each particle of each cell that make up ourselves, the earth, the universe as well as space and time with all that is in between with experience.  Experience founded on best decisions and the imperfect building blocks of life.  Experience not meant for others, but rather exactly for that uniqueness called me.