Cimmerian Shade

You and I, wrapped in the cloven colored sky,

Watch the beautiful twilight floating by;

And the nights shade, left over from summer rays,

Clothes a delightful dalliance.

The heat rushed into my face as I exited my car. I examined the house. It sat on a small hill. The garage and lower floor were nestled into the hillside, and the main entrance sat a top a small set of stairs. The exterior was painted a mellow green, a lilac green.

I inspected the inside of my car, mulling over what to bring in, but my thoughts were absent: they were with her. They were filled with enthusiasm, with joyful expectations. “I don’t need anything at the moment,” I thought “I’ll come out and grab it later.” The truth is, I wanted my arms free: free to embrace her.

I walked towards the house, my eyes to the ground, lost in thought. A subtle smile was perched on my lips. I lifted my eyes, and there she was, smiling coyly through the glass door. Her demeanor was excited and hesitant. She opened it and walked onto the porch as I made my way up the stairs. We extended arms and hugged; and the mightest avalanche of ephoria pounded my thoughts into a placid pool of bliss: my chest lept, my heart fluttered, and satisfaction wrapped itself around me in waves, over and over again. I rested my chin on her shoulder and my thoughts adjusted. “It’s good to see you” I said. “It’s good to see you too.”  I felt like a child all over again. If there was any doubt that I could love anyone, it was dispelled then and there. I was submerged in love: patient, pleasant, warm, kind, pleasing love. And it was all for her.

We unloaded my car, dragging in a cooler of food, a backpack of clothes, and a brown bag filled with bottles of wine.

I walked into the house and was met with wondrous woodwork, daedal designs that weaved their way into every facet of the home. This was no ordinary house built by ordinary men. This was a special house, crafted with keen skill and the dexterous hands of a lone laborer devoted to his trade. My eyes danced from once detail to the next, and then a voice appeared from below me. “Why hello there! You must be Michael!” I observed an older man with a burly gray mustache climbing up a small staircase from the lower sunroom. “Hello! Great to finally meet you Don!” We shook hands and exchanged the usual amicable small talk. A kindness emanated from him; his personality seemed shy and restrained, with only the occasional burst of light that gently escaped whenever he attempted a small joke. I complimented his home and he thanked me humbly in the most unassuming way.

She showed me to our room; I followed behind with my bags in hand while my heart danced in step.

I prepared grilled Salmon for dinner that evening, as well as a medley of vegetables: asparagus, tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and pinch of parsley, all sauteed with extra virgin olive oil and seasoning. Don happened to have a “special” teriyaki blend procured from his favorite Japanese restaurant; a real treat, he says, because Japanese Chefs are super stingy with their recipes. I made sure to be impressed, and when I tasted it, I most definitely was: the glaze was exquisite. Sweet, but not overly, and it was nestled with hidden flavors of garlic, citrus, and other herbs. The dinner was fantastic: the choicest wine and salmon and, above all, company.

After dinner she casually suggested that we could take a bath, together, in the hot tub openly situated in the master suite. There was no hesitation in my response. She filled the hot tub. The rest of the night we grew in knowledge. Exhausted from the events of the day, and inebriated from the libations that loomed throughout the night, we fell asleep quite early. I awoke throughout the night several times soaking in sweat: the air conditioner was off for the evening and it was over a hundred every day the past week. I managed to go to bed, but at five thirty an alarm sounded. “Odd” I thought in my sleepy haze. My eyelids cracked and were met with blinding light. I looked at the clock confused. When the hell was it ever this bright at five thirty in the morning? Now I know why farmers manage to wake up so early. And why the hell is there an alarm for this hour? Then she turned and asked me, “I’m going for my twelve mile run. Do you want to join?” While I was unbelievably impressed and fully infatuated with her charismatic discipline, the idea of running twelve miles at that hour left the same reaction as jumping from a cliff onto jagged rocks: the possibility of my muscular one hundred and ninety five pound frame surviving such a task existed only in distant dreams. I did want to run though, but I encouraged her to go alone. She left and I explored the idea of sleeping longer but the summer heat and blinding rays penetrating through the windows prevented that option from ever materializing. Instead I laid in bed and watched humming birds court each other in hypnotic floating displays of majestic brilliance outside my window. After a short period of time I dressed myself and began my three or four mile run. The countryside was invigorating and enlivening: rolling crests of green grass and pastures reamed across the landscape. Wildlife seethed throughout the dense vegetation and open plains and soaring sky. The smells and sounds and sights saturated my senses, and I felt fully alive.

I arrived home drenched in sweat and absolutely beaten with exhaustion. After I caught my breath I journaled my thoughts and read a few chapters of Ender’s Game.

After Don prepared us a breakfast of eggs, hash browns, ham and waffles, we decided to explore the 2,700 person town or, more aptly, “village”.

We happened upon a civil war battle site named “battle of the bridge” and later discovered an estate sale auction in one of the neighborhoods that appeared to attract nearly everyone in the county, including the entire Amish community (I love the Amish!). Cardboard boxes of goods lined the backyard, side yard, and empty lot across the street. Families, children, old and young stood ’round a man dribbling words from a hand held microphone: the auctioneer. He rapped prices with a southern drawl that hung in the humid air. The occasional hand would flicker upwards and he’d raise the price, “five dolla five dolla five dolla we have five dolla do we have five fifty five fifty do we have five fifty… five fifty! six dolla do we have a six dolla now…” and slowly they’d make their way through the labyrinth of goods. At one point he stopped at a mechanical contraption and provided a brief description, “Naw here we have a werkout machine, a walking board,” and there was a laugh and commotion “or I guess they call it a treadmill.” Her and I looked at eachother and smiled with fond amusement. These little folk and their back yard auctions, stuck in prohibition, with their straw hats and thick suspenders.  It was quite a spectacle. And archaic at that.

Eventually we made it to our canoe destination on the river. Barry, as he introduced himself to us, was waiting with a canoe strapped to the top of his large old Tahoe. He was mild mannered and polite, soft spoken and friendly.  “So we have a three hour and a six hour lazy canoe trip” he said. The heat was in full swing and I imagined myself on the river for six hours, wondering if it was possible or enjoyable to canoe for that long in the heat. If anything it sounded like a challenge. “Well six hours sounds a bit long, you think if we trucked it we could get it done in three hours?” I asked. Barry’s face pulled back in distaste. “No no no! You’re not suppose to go fast. It’s called the lazy river. You want to go slow. You don’t wanna go fast, just take your time, enjoy the river. The six hour trip is definitely worth it and the best bang for your buck.” I looked at her and smiled with surrender. “Well then, I guess that sounds good. We’ll do that.” We loaded into his car and we stopped by his home while he ran our credit cards and had us sign waivers. We grilled him with every question we could muster during our short car ride with him: how he got into business, how the local economy was, what the local demographic was like, how he liked his life, where the best restaurants were located. It was only a fifteen minute drive but we were efficient with questions and satisfied with our answers.

We canoed for six hours, about 12 miles in all, in scorching one-hundred and five degree Kentucky heat. It was no joke. There was plenty of scenery to keep our senses entertained. Back woods Kentucky families posted up in the river bed in their lawn chairs, their cubicle sized shacks in the foreground with laundry lines extending from their sides. Gun shots accompanied our tour of the river. We passed the couple, rifle in hand. “A little target shooting?” I said light heartedly. “You bet! It’s my favorite thing in the world!” Her posy pink one piece wrapped over her shoulders and crossed her breasts in a deep V that connected at her belly button. Her dark roots chased after the blonde hair tied in a knot situated on the back of her head. “I don’t blame ya” I said with a twang in my voice “I’d be out here every day if I was you!” I tried to make small talk as we sheepishly floated on by. The river was pathetically slow that day, making its name “the lazy river” well suited. It hadn’t rained in over eight weeks. Though the levels were low, the water was exceptionally cool and clear thanks to the subterranean aquifers pumping continuous supplies of cool water into its currents.

We paddled the red canoed through the blistering humid heat, through the biting bugs that chased and bit throughout the duration. We talked about everything. Life. Love. Jobs. Happiness. Family. Children. Friends. Relationships. Six hours is a long time to canoe a river. And talking in the heat while your slowly growing more and more exhausted from beating the insects in between paddle strokes would be a challenge, except I was in her company, and that thought alone dissolved any penetrating distractions that would otherwise detract from having the best of times.

We had lunch on a river bank. An Amish family sputtered away from the bank in a small motor boat (Odd, I know!). A small fire crackled and white smoke rose over the river and into my nostrils: memories moved within me, memories of my youth, and camping, and my early pyrotechnic fascinations.

We pulled the canoe on shore and pulled out our sandwich bag from the dry sac. She brought the bread. As we were making sandwhiches earlier in the morning I noticed that the bread she brought was peculiar. Why? Because it was made for midgets: each slice was slightly smaller than the size of my palm. I could easily eat two or three or more of these small sandwiches. But I had to give it to whoever thought of restandardizing their loafs: they definitely make you eat less, and think twice about making more than one.

We ate raspberries with our little sandwiches. Mine was tuna. Her’s was hummus and vegetables and maybe turkey, but I couldn’t be sure.

We arrived home around five pm. Don had offered to make us his “special” Mexican burritos which, he mentioned, were quite good by his standards, and something of a specialty of his. We inquired earlier that day with the locals about where good restaurants might be and found that there were, in fact, no good resturants. Save, of course, the Mexican resturant, the only resturant anyone would recommend that we visit. We decided that we’d rather have our wine (it was a dry county!) and have Don grace us with his cooking abilities. He was making Mexican for us anyway, so why not.

We arrived home early and Don hobbled from his sun room in cartoon boxers waving his hands (or hand, since he had but one, but that’s a minor detail) and saying “Don’t worry, I’m not in my underwear!”, but it was clear that he was. He pulled over his shirt. It was backwards. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” We explained how we annihilated that “lazy” river with our exceptionally intense “go-get’em” attitudes and finished slightly early. “I was only having a few cocktails and didn’t expect you to be back so soon!” Don continued apologizing. “Don’t worry,” I said “we’ll join you after we refresh ourselves, get some water and fill our stomachs with a bite to eat.” Don liked that idea. You could tell he was lonely, sharing the company of a twelve pound Lhasa Apso named Sophie. There was no significant other in his life, and none that could be guessed from his past. He was alone. Him and his dog. And his beautiful home. With no one to share it with save the wayfarers that stopped in for bed and breakfast a few times a month.

We talked over wine. Don had himself a bloody mary. We discussed a spectrum of topics, from his favorite bloody mary mix, to his travels abroad, to his real estate aspirations, and finally, at the peak of our intoxication, to his finances. He went so far as to show me all his investments and explain his savvy investing strategies. I entertained his enthusiasm.

Don soon began making dinner, but after all the alcohol, her and I faded to sleep on the couch, nuzzling close to one another. Don must have saw us while making dinner and caught some inspiration, for he fell asleep as well. We awoke several hours later to Don in a panic. “I completely fell asleep in the middle of making dinner! I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that happened!” It was a goofy scenario, as she said. All of us, tired, drunk, passing out, the dinner half cooked, the kitchen steaming, the TV murmuring in the background. How funny.

We quickly ate dinner and went to sleep.

We awoke the next day and had Don’s breakfast, but this time instead of waffles he made sourdough french toast. I was gorged.

The original caves we were going to visit happened to be completely booked due to the holiday weekend, so we engaged plan B and decided to visit two other caves, and meet her best friend at the second, more southern location.

We stopped at Diamond Cavern for the first part of our trip, and the Lost River Cave and Valley for the second, where we met up with her friend.

I drove back with her an hour north at the end of the day. My car was parked in the small town we had stayed at. I opted to ride with her. I missed her company already.


Contemporary reason leads us to believe and think in terms of ends, of results, of conclusions. In Greek antiquity, the seat of the soul, the Stoic hegemonikon, was reason. It served as the method of worldly and, more importantly, personal discovery. Contrary to modern notions, reason was the primary tool for inquiry. Reason, derived from the Latin word ratio (rat- = thought), generated questions necessary for deriving facts that could be used to uncover and challenge assumptions.

In contemporary culture it is prized to be decisive, to be certain. It is seen as noble to list your interests and categorize your passions. We revolve around answers, around black and white, right and wrong. Having a favorite team, perfume, cars, bands, or political standing. Our definitions and labels leave us feeling proud, worthwhile, self-assured. But this polarization strips the variation from life.  We look for specific answers outside ourselves, we defer to associations that resonate with the values of the status quo or maintain prestige, but we fail to ask ourselves what we think and hesitate to explore our own experience and arrive at answers congruent with our personal reasons or convictions.

Love is acknowledging similarities. Hate is acknowledging differences. Both are self-fulfilling, path dependent, and habit forming. Whether you think you’re right or wrong, you’re right. All we are is thoughts. All we are is habits. We forget that there are no absolute facts, no eternal answers, only proper relations. Reason is not answers, not facts, not lists. Like the Latin translation, reason is ratio, relations, calculations among entities. Everything is a relationship. As the subject of our world, we dictate the terms of that relationship. If we want sound conclusions and a harmonious life, we must establish the proper relations not only among external things, we must form a proper relationship with the world, subject and object. This requires honesty: the first task of philosophy is losing self-conceit. How can we learn what we already know?



“Set your sights high, the higher the better. Expect the most wonderful things to happen, not in the future but right now. Realize that nothing is too good. Allow absolutely nothing to hamper you or hold you up in any way.”
— Eileen Caddy

So I talked to my ex girl friend of five years on Friday. Do I still love her? Do I still feel a flood of emotions when I hear her voice? Yes. We only talked for twenty minutes and most of what we talked about was mundane and routine: how is your family? what’re you up to? where are you working? any boyfriends? etc. Nonetheless, I love her. One day I’d like to get to know her again. what do I mean by love her? I mean, my body goes weak, I get nervous, I want to be by her side whenever I think about her. That’s how that goes down.

I’m a different person than I was five years ago. I know she is too. I don’t hold anything against her. I don’t pretend to know who she is these days. I only remember who she use to be. And I hope that’s not how she remember’s me. I was batshit outta my mind when I was in highschool. Nowadays I only talk that way. I’m not actually bat shit crazy (debateable). Nevertheless.

I want to see her again. I want to fly her up to new england and see all the beautiful lush green mountains. I want to take her to a island with a cabin on the lake and spend a day or two getting to know who she’s become since we last left off. I’m going to call her monday and tell her I’m buying her a plane ticket and ask her what days work best for her. If she says she can’t do it, well, I have nothing to lose. I will be in Nashville, she’ll be in Orlando. I don’t have anything to do with her. It doesn’t matter to me. I just know how I felt about her at the age of 17, 18, 19… and even now, even though we haven’t spoken in almost two years.

So I want to fly her up here. She said she’s never been to new england. One of the few places she hasn’t been she says.

Man. xxx. We’ll see. She’s a free spirit. Does whatever. I just wanna take care of her and love her and such. Ever since I’ve decided to make myself into a better person its her I think about as the driving reason. One day I want to feel that strongly again. I know that if I can’t be with her, I want it to be with someone who is even better, or at least someone I’m prepared to deal with. I’m tired. And drunk. and hooka’ed out. night.



Artistic Essence

“This very essence of a man, his soul, which the artist puts into his work and which is represented by it, is found again in the work by the enjoyer, just as the believer finds his soul in religion or in God, with whom he feels himself to be one. It is on this identity of the spiritual, which underlies the concept of collective religion, and not on a psychological identification with the artist, that the pleasurable effect of the work of art ultimately depends, and the effect is, in this sense, one of deliverance….But both [artist and enjoyer], in the simultaneous dissolution of their individuality in a greater whole, enjoy, as a high pleasure, the personal enrichment of that individuality through this feeling of oneness. They have yielded up their mortal ego for a moment, fearlessly and even joyfully, to receive it back in the next, the richer for this universal feeling. “

–Otto Rank,  Art and Artist, 1932, p. 109-110.


White Nights

“I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can’t help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year. I feel I know you so well that I couldn’t have known you better if we’d been friends for twenty years. You won’t fail me, will you? Only two minutes, and you’ve made me happy forever. Yes, happy. Who knows, perhaps you’ve reconciled me with myself, resolved all my doubts.

When I woke up it seemed to me that some snatch of a tune I had known for a long time, I had heard somewhere before but had forgotten, a melody of great sweetness, was coming back to me now. It seemed to me that it had been trying to emerge from my soul all my life, and only now-

If and when you fall in love, may you be happy with her. I don’t need to wish her anything, for she’ll be happy with you. May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn’t such a moment sufficient for the whole of one’s life?”

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky; White Nights

Poetic Stirs

Colorful images seep synchronistically at the margins of my meditating mind. Shadows dance on the back of my eyelids. I open my eyes. The sweeping sound of rain pitters against the paned glass. The sky leaks onto the earth like a faulty faucet. I turn my eyes to the squinted blinds and observe: muted silver carpets of rolling moisture blanket the upper atmosphere and heather the heavens.  My mind baths in this stillness.

I think about the work ahead of me: fifty pages of writing within the next seven days. No easy task. The thought of it wrenches my gut.

My existence is binary; my mind, on or off. It teeters at the peak of propensity. Like a push car, once momentum is gained, it is an unstoppable force. Without the initial force, it lays unstirred, waiting, dreaming in quiet desperation for an impending impetus.

When I walk, I like to think that the world moves around me, like a standstill treadmill. The universe hinges on my perspective. All change is a discontinuous illusion extending from the reticent reaches of awareness. Life is but a recall of disingenuous memory. Labor and difficulty, a figment of flouncing imagination.

Warmth emanates from my underside. I lay prostrate. My supine stare fixes on the fan as it spins sedulous waves of coolness into my leeway of leisure.

I don’t have anything to say. I suppose my mind drifts to past relationships, with family, friends and females. Work, school, play.

Lovers. What is a lover? These intimate bodies are too numerous to value seriously. They multiply and divide and subside. What makes a lasting lover? The mark of friendship is the foundational formulation of any marriage of minds. Lovers are nice, but that’s about the extent. Friendship is much more rare. Much more loving and supportive and understanding. There’s substance that goes beyond the intimacy. That is how I judge these matters. Substance is to be prized above all else. The aesthetics of romance incite the passions, but the passions are prone to whither and change. Substance, real substance, principally endures. There isn’t sufficient time to spend chasing shadows and ‘licking the earth’, as Pascal puts it. I value a person’s values. That is appreciable substance.

SoJourning Love.

Time to journal. I was going to write in my hand-written journal but I decided to log this one digitally.  Not sure why.

What do I want? Right now I’m feeling emotional. Not sure why. Well. Lies. I actually know why. I just have problems expressing vulnerability. I like a girl. I desire her. I am attracted to her. Yet, I don’t know what that means. I’m usually so detached from those feelings. They occupy deep hidden places within me. I obey them from afar so when they get unwieldy I’m at a distance.

What do I want? Right now. What is it? Ok, more specifically: What do I want from a female? I realize I could subsist off of my own imaginings and writings and thoughts and dreams and studies and friends… but there always seems to be something missing. It leaves a dull ache, a dull emptiness. I know that no female will ever take it away, but I feel as if it could be allayed more than it is. Intimacy. Intimate encounters that last longer than physical climax. An intimate encounter that endures and subsists behind the daily happenings of life. Where I can seek comfort. Intimacy that persists long after those endless gazes. How is this intimacy achieved? Well. Great question. I’ve been struggling to figure this out myself. I achieve a great level of intimacy with a large number of my platonic relationships, but it eludes me when my heart is involved. Perhaps expectations ruin the momentum? I tried sex. Raw hot heavy sex. That didn’t work. When sex is achieved before an investment is made, why bother? Subconsciously I resist making that pledge. Maybe I lose respect? I can’t respect a girl when I already own her. Especially that easily. Make me care enough to work for it. Please?

Eh. I don’t know what to think. Relationships. These courting encounters. They’re fun. The masquerades. The lampooning. The dancing gestures. The intimations. All behavioral and empty.

Meaning is difficult for me. When I say things I mean, I feel them. Meaning and feeling seem inextricable. They are one in the same. How do I mean anything when I feel nothing? Words. Empty gaseous words. The effluvium of desire. Yearning pleasure. Sexual banter. Until the impulse subsides and I stare at a stranger.

What is it that I want? I want someone to want me. Nay. Need me. Right? Isn’t that what anyone wants? To feel irreplaceable? How to convey that without ripping your heart out? How to convey that without faking it? Jesus. I have no idea.

I almost feel bad for girls that are into me. As much as I long to shed and share all, I resist out of courtesy. I don’t want to overwhelm them with my complexities. My complicated spirit. My ornery soul. It overwhelms even me. Even I struggle to appreciate something so beautiful and so appalling.

I can be anything to anyone. These masks. People need consistency. How does one disarm their masks. Who is the true Michael? Intimacy, love, whatever you want to call it, it extends beyond these masks. It requires pulling down the veils that honesty hides behind. What lies behind is something beyond me. I like to think that my closest friends are familiar with this person. I appear in various fractals.

Honesty hides behind veils. It is always there in full view, only obscured by a veil.

Okay. So I lost my train of thought. Not too unusual. Tonight I’m hanging with some friends at a local microbrewery. I guess I’m going stag at this point. Amongst three other couples…awkward? Awkward is a state of mind. Nothing is awkward unless you think it so.

What to think… Saturday. Went to brunch.. worked out at the gym…. played raquetball… showered. I think I’m gonna grab Chipotle.

Beauty, like a dream, fades. Faith endures. It stipulates nothing.  Intelligence wanes. Physicality and success, all seasons in time. They all play leads at one time or another, only to fade into the background. What is left? Love. Faith. I suppose a variety of virtues.

It’s so much easier to hide your heart. To keep it all for yourself. But the unequivocal joy of extending it to the other, and having them cherish and bask in its naked state? It lights you on fire. It is unbelievable to love and be loved.

I don’t think one can be in love without vulnerability. No. I know it. Be prepared to expose yourself. God. What a dilemma.

So. I’m at a point in my life where I desire substance, in people and relationships and tasks and goals. No more petty aspirations. No more temporary longings. Have some long term vision. Use imagination beyond the moment Michael.

I don’t have time for people that don’t have this. Confusion? Fickle? Flaky? I will have none of it. I might be around, but not for long. I will learn briefly and find someone else who’s pursuit is for the real. For the thick of it. For the substance that extends through space and time and is with you in all the oscillating experiences, the undulating sine waves of life, where it peaks and rockets toward the trough, only to crest again. I want substance through it all.

Temporary Madness

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

-St. Augustine.


“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

Last week I ran an errand for the office to deliver some time-sheets to the medical payroll office. My director told me to make sure they were time stamped before I submitted them. When I arrived, there was no one at the window so I was a little confused as to how to do this. I lingered for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant by time-stamping. The next moment a girl walked up with a stack of envelopes. With my attention was elsewhere, I watched as she began processing her documents. I casually asked her if she knew how to time-stamp a time sheet. She showed me with thoughtful instruction and I proceeded to process and submit the time sheets before walking away. As I walked, my thoughts returned and it struck me: that girl was breathtaking. Although I didn’t take time to appreciate it in my busied state, her beauty was instantly apparent the moment I looked into her eyes. I walked down the hall and reflected. Beauty moves. It tugs at something deep inside you. Whether it’s art, nature, complexity or simplicity, it transports you to a better place. Her physiognomy held a child like innocence. Her blonde hair was wispy and pure, streaming and sun kissed. She was tall, but not overwhelmingly so. There was a delicacy in her figure, womanly yet youthful. Her eyes seemed to capture the simplicity of life. As I was reflecting, I felt compelled to do something, to obey those unwieldy passions. Her presence incited an irrational passion within me. I wanted to recapture that. I had the urge to turn, walk up to her with a decisive confidence, and ask for her name. I wanted to revel in another moment of her presence and ask if she was free that evening for dinner. While my reserved judgement told me to tame such responses, my youthful zeal demanded that I act now, that the opportunities of love beg not to be overlooked. Hume said that reason must be a slave to the passions. Since when did I begin believing otherwise?

As I walked, I continued to think about our exchange. I held her image in mind and let the pleasant and uplifting emotions it generated pour over me. I told myself that I would see her again, that I would not forget such a face and that I would work to find her again. I believe, and life has taught me truly, that we attract what we think about. I know from experience that what the heart desires most, if we act honestly, it attains. As predicted, I did find her again.

I write this because it’s not often that a girl has this kind of affect on me. I admit that there are many beautiful girls out there, but it’s rare that I’m left with a longing that lingers after such an encounter.


A message I sent to Jennifer:

Hey Jen,

I was going to send you a letter, but you’ve fallen off the map recently and I haven’t a clue where I’d mail it. For all it’s worth, I decided to send it via facebook. My intention is only to say hello and thank you. I hope it finds you well.



This is one of those letters that you send only because the unwieldy passions of youth come back to get the better of you.

Six years ago I looked you in the eye, and with all the earnest zeal in my body, I swore that I would come back for you on October 10th 2010, and we would reconvene no matter where we were in life. Do you remember that? Since then, we have fallen distant over the years, and lead vastly different lives. I figured I could commemorate that pact, at least with myself, in a letter.  I hope you receive it well.

I’d like you to know that you’ve had an enormous impact on my life. You found me at a moment when my life had picked up only briefly, only before spiraling downward and out of control once more. During our tryst, you provided me with some powerful memories, feelings, and experiences that afforded me with some of the most precious fuel for my recovery. When I was homeless and strung out and bitter with the world, which I often was, I could recall few glimmers of joy in the world that were powerful enough to lift my spirits and thoughts to loftier dreams. What joys I do remember, however puerile they seem now, were the memories of an indescribable, irrational, brilliant love for you. What pained me most was the thought of damaging that love, which I most definitely and often did.

There was a day that I made a decision to put the past behind me, embrace responsibility for my success and failures, and dream brilliantly. I made a commitment to become someone who was worthy of the love I had for you. I told myself, ‘I know I will love someone like this again, and when I find them, I want to love them with all that I am, with all that I am capable of being.’ From then on, I began to see life in possibility, and I began to dream wildly. While there were other motivators that I chose to lift me up, such as a renewed appreciation for my family and all the people who believed in me, I specifically remembered my acute feelings for you. They provided the fuel for action. When difficulties and hardship arose, I thought of the love I once felt for you and the pain I believe I caused you. Slowly, I have brought myself closer to my ideals.

It’s not often that I think of our time together anymore. Every once and awhile I’ll catch myself reminiscing with nostalgia, and look back on our teenage love; it is then that all its private joys come to mind. I can still manage to seek solace in such superannuated memories. While I like to think I’ll always know you, I know that we’re different people now. We haven’t talked in years. When we do talk, it seems the intimacy I believed we once knew so deeply has been lost to time.

I’d like to say, I never knew how to apologize for any pain I caused you. I was too ashamed and guilty. Most of all, I didn’t want to rehash any pain, any memories or resentment I may have caused you. I want you to know now, that I am truly sorry for my reckless years. I pained many people, and it still pains me. I seek every day to overcome the demons of the past.

I also want to thank you. If I hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t found me, I may have never known a love so powerful as ours. I attribute it as a large part of my success as a person today.

I recall an evening on the phone with you, late 2006. It was late in the evening, and you phoned me on a random chance occurrence. Who knows why? I remember telling you, against my biting conscience, that I was going to be successful, and that I was going to do it as a tribute you, not as an attempt to recapture what was lost, but as a tribute to the power of love.

I could go on with stories or thoughts, but I’m afraid I have been overly sentimental as it is. I do hope the absolute best for you, Jennifer. I once told you I’d always love you. I still do.

Love always,


Lost Love


This is one of those letters that you send only because the unwieldy passions of youth come back to get the better of you.

Six years ago I looked you in the eye, and with all the earnest zeal in my body, I swore that I would come back for you on October 10th 2010, and we would reconvene no matter where we were in life. Do you remember that? Since then we’ve fallen distant over the years and lead vastly different lives. I figured I could commemorate that pact, at least with myself, in a letter.  I hope you receive it well.

I’d like you to know that you’ve had an enormous impact on my life. You found me at a moment when my life had picked up only briefly, only before spiraling downward and out of control once more. During our tryst you provided me with some powerful memories, feelings, and experiences that afforded me with some of the most precious fuel for my recovery. When I was homeless and strung out and bitter with the world, which I often was, I could recall few glimmers of joy in the world that were powerful enough to lift my spirits and thoughts to loftier dreams. What joys I do remember, however puerile they seem now, were the memories of an indescribable, irrational, brilliant love for you. What pained me most was the thought of damaging that love, which I most definitely and often did.

There was a day that I made a decision to put the past behind me, embrace responsibility for my success and failures, and dream brilliantly. I made a commitment to become someone who was worthy of the love I had for you. I told myself, ‘I know I will love someone like this again, and when I find them, I want to love them with all that I am, with all that I am capable of being.’ From then on I began to see life in possibility and I began to dream wildly. While there were other motivators that I chose to lift me up, such as a renewed appreciation for my family and all the people who believed in me, I specifically remembered my acute feelings for you. They provided the fuel for action. When difficulties and hardship arose, I thought of the love I once felt for you and the pain I believe I caused you. Slowly, I have brought myself closer to my ideals.

It’s not often that I think of our time together anymore. Every once and awhile I’ll catch myself reminiscing with nostalgia, and look back on our teenage love; it is then that all its private joys come to mind. I can still manage to seek solace in such superannuated memories. While I like to think I’ll always know you, I know that we’re different people now. We haven’t talked in years. When we do talk it seems the intimacy I believed we once knew so deeply has been lost to time.

I’d like to say I never knew how to apologize for any pain I caused you. I was too ashamed and guilty. Most of all I didn’t want to rehash any pain, any memories or resentment I may have caused you. I want you to know now, that I am truly sorry for my reckless years. I pained many people, and it still pains me. I seek every day to overcome the demons of the past.

I also want to thank you. If I hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t found me, I may have never known a love so powerful as ours. I attribute it as a large part of my success as a person today.

I recall an evening on the phone with you, late 2006. It was late in the evening, and you phoned me on a random chance occurrence. Who knows why? I remember telling you, against my biting conscience, that I was going to be successful, and that I was going to do it as a tribute you, not as an attempt to recapture what was lost, but as a tribute to the power of love.

I could go on with stories or thoughts, but I’m afraid I have been overly sentimental as it is. I do hope the absolute best for you, ******. I once told you I’d always love you. I still do.

Love always,



When I was an elementary school in Marshalltown, IA, a young Mexican girl visited our classroom. While she was our age, she was slower than most of her peers and spoke poor English in comparison. Additionally, she had one small stub of an arm. Despite the teacher’s best efforts to encourage everyone to interact and get along, her presence was polarizing to most students in our class room. Even at a young age, this struck me deeply. I had been raised by parents who exposed me to diversity at a young age. My mother was always an example of loving those who are different, who are hurting, and who struggle. Until then, I had not even known that one person, whatever their condition or appearance, was any different than anyone else. In my youthful eyes, we were all the same. This experience was the first time I had every witnessed the effects of being different, and it was strange.

I remember reaching out to her and playing with her and the teachers assistant, even when all the other kids wouldn’t. I remembering enjoying my time with her and realizing that there was nothing inherently different about her at all. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. This experience, while small, was a transformative moment in my life. It illustrated the struggle people face when they appear ‘different’. It always showed me that people are more similar than they are different. When we focus on the differences, they take over and taint the beauty of our similarities.


I feel alive. It’s the first time in a long while. Usually I endure the suffocation. The demands. The routine pressures. As soon as I give a big fuck you to the world, to the expectations, to the voices; it suddenly melts away. It dissolves into clarity. I become light, my chest fills with substance and the aching void is replaced with pouring rhythm.

What it is to ‘be’. Its not doing. Its not pleasing people. Its not succumbing to everything out there. Its a defiant, oppositional rejection to it all. Perhaps its the fear that melts away? The fear of not sufficing, of not doing enough, maintaining enough. The fear of rejection. The fear of being no good. These forces worm their roots into my core and choke my sense of self. They fester and grow, feeding off my ability to be and act. It desiccates potential, leaving it shriveled and withered. I say no. I would rather die, rather blow off my head and choke my life of consciousness than live a mediocre life of struggle. I would do anything so long as my being could breath again. When the ultimatum hangs between ending your life, or ending the angst, the answers don’t seem so allusive. It becomes a simple decision of action. A courageous act of anger. Anger towards everything that’s been weighing you down.

No longer will my breath be bated with apprehension and insecurities. Death, or life. Chains, or freedom. So much of my life I prey on self-deception to rid it from its burrows; but its insidious contrivances slither beneath awareness and latch hold ever so gently. At times, it seems to be a comfort, this angst. It plants itself and soon becomes a deceptive constant. Over time it slowly coils and constricts the spirit until I awake disoriented and lost. The spirit and its zest for life, the simple pleasures of being, seem to have taken flight, and I am left deserted. A relativity takes hold and an indifference spreads over me. I become weightless, ungrounded.

Being real- whatever real is- seems to be the only salvation. It requires an intense gaze into these abysmally vacant depths. You must stare and search with a righteous anger and bitterness and resentment. You must find these gnarling roots, and hack deep. Confront the demons, the self-judgement, the doubt. Stare hard. Get angry and defiant. Defy anything that is keeping you from the now.

You can be no more than you are, and who you are is not who you will be. Decide to be. Whatever is holding you back must be uncovered and exposed. It has no power when you bring it to the surface. It loses its substance and dissolves into oblivion. The battle is daily. Either life is a burden, or it is no burden at all. Lose the burden.


I had a dream about her again. Amazing as usual. It was back to the way it use to be. Euphoria saturated my senses with every touch. Our noses and cheeks would brush against each other unleashing wave after wave of feelings only described as love. To hold each other was to reject everything in the world at that moment. It was as if we were never apart. Years later, and the feelings inside never departed.

She texted me the other night. I bought her a journal when we first met. She texted me to tell me she was reading it, and that it was weird. I could relate. A few months ago I read my old journals from about four years ago. I had a hard time relating to that person. Young and naive- but I learned from it. I explained that we were young and in love… or thats how I like to remember it. Confused and in love.

Is it strange that I think of her almost daily? And its been four years? I believe shes been with a few boyfriends since us. I see her at least once a year… and each time I think that the effect she has on me has diminished since last time… but it hasn’t. The feelings remain the same as the first day I laid eyes on her. Since our first conversation that confirmed everything I felt about her, those feelings have never waned. Now, what to do about those feelings… that was always the tough part. She explained that we were intense. Intense wasn’t the word. Passion so potent that it lit our hearts on fire. To hold, to touch, to be in their presence was more than enough to satisfy any discontent in the world.

Alas. I made the decision back in the day that I was more destructive in trying to figure out what to do with these feelings than constructive. With her well being in mind, I made the choice to cut off any emotional attachment and slowly reprogrammed myself to think on other things. Quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do… and it never really worked because here I am, four years later, thinking about her.

But I am forever indebted to her. The simple love we shared in my youth has been enough to propel me through any challenges I’ve been met with since. I have raised myself from a pit and have hurled myself toward dreams that are as wild as our unbridled passion. She has forever granted me the power to feel powerfully if I choose to.

I acknowledge that it is highly whimsical to believe that there will ever be a future between us. Very improbable… but not impossible. But what she has given me is hope. She has shown me feelings I could never have imagined possessing in my life. I believe, in my deepest of hearts, that I am capable of feeling that again… with or without her. I will find another to share the passion with.

In the meantime, I will create myself to be the person a girl like her rightfully deserves… in character and action and virtue….

PUKE. Fortunately I’m callous and emotionally void so I really can’t believe any of this garbage.


“Have you ever considered that if you were in a healthy committed relationshipt, in stead of it being a distraction or a nuisance , the both of you can support each others’ quest to accomplish goals, convictions, principles, visions, purpose, direction etc. It seems to me that you view relationships as a manipulative temptress rather than a companion to share and grow with. I would like to hear your response.” -Anonymous.

Well… depending on my mood, state, and current relationship status, my answer to this comment might vary a bit. I’m pretty bored at the moment so I figured I’d think this little comment out, see if theres any validity to it whatsoever, and answer according to my current convictions.

As I read this comment (oooh! good song came on.. ‘girl inform me’ by the shins)… as i read this comment it seems like its coming from someone who doesn’t know me very well. Or someone who thinks they know me well, but obviously does not. If they did they would know that I don’t really waste my time with relationships unless the person is exactly what I want in a girl. I don’t have time in my life, and they don’t have time in their life, to be with someone who doesn’t want them 100%.

At this time in my life my goal is to succeed and create as much potential in my future as possible. I am making up for lost time. I wasted much of my time when I was younger with these distractions- parties, people and girls. I am not saying they didn’t help shape me… I just wasn’t headed in the right direction when I should have been. And I say ‘wasted’ because very few of these people actually cared enough to encourage me to pursue my best… and I don’t necessarily blame them cause the vast majority of people out there don’t even know what ‘best’ is. They just float on.

Anywayyy… my goal in life is to succeed as much as I humanly possibly can considering the hole I dug myself into in high school, and the time I’ve lost. This means my priorities are #1 school (includes studying, clubs and organizations, internships, and any other educational or academic endeavor)… and #2 preparing for grad school (studying for a flawless gpa and LSAT, and building networks with future successful people).

Going back to girls. Beyond school… I really can’t be bothered. Not now. I may be MADLY in love… like… my heart hurts and my knees are weak in love, but that will never compromise my commitment to my goals. I will be committed to that person, they just can’t have priority in my life..not now anyway. I will be there for them, Love them to death, do everything I can for them….. EXCEPT… at the cost of my grades. Girls come and go… they have and they will. I’m looking for one that decides to stick it out… one that sees that all my hard work, my focus is FOR THEM.

I AM NOT WORKING OR STUDYING SOLELY FOR MYSELF. sure its great to achieve…its actually amazing. I love accomplishing goals… having desires that I just own. But in the end its pointless and meaningless if I have no one to share it with. Sure friends are nice… but I’m talking intimacy.

The honest to gods truth is that I am working to provide for my future wife. That women who is patient with me, who loves me, who will have my children, who will support my endeavors as I support hers. I will love someone so much one day… that I will be DEVASTATED if i can’t be all that I am meant to be for them. Every day I am working to give more of myself to my future wife- physically, emotionally, mentally. Anyway…

I am looking for a symbiotic relationship…where we can grow together… reach new heights together. and just be in love. LOVE IS PATIENT. Read 1st corinthians 13 and that’ll show you what I want in a women.

Relationships… yes… I love supporting people. I love encouraging people, I love being able to show people what success looks like by being a leader, a living example.

“Manipulative Temptress”… These words sound spiteful. I have love for everyone. I want to say that the last thing I try to do is intentionally hurt someone. Communication is key. I don’t want to manipulate them. I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I am not about selfish people, close minded people, stubborn people, prideful, egotistical, etc. I just will not waste my time with these relationships… I’m beyond it… my relationships don’t need it… nor does my life… nor do my future kids.

All I have to say is that one day… one day I will find someone who I love uncontrollably and loves me back. This love will be pure, innocent, and most of all… patient. It will put no constraints on fate. It will be genuine, forthright, and honest. I know I will find this because I will not settle for anything less. I will not let myself think that a relationship must be any other way. No relationship is perfect, but I believe that two people can make a commitment to work towards perfect… work towards harmony… work towards unifying their body, mind and soul.

Also… I believe that love is not something to be courted. If it is so, it will be so. No forcing it, no faking it. It will come effortlessly from within. The chemistry, the attraction, the fondness, the butterflies.

Also- It is not the end all be all. My companion will not make me happy. They will not ‘make’ my life any better. That is for me, and me only. My happiness rests in my hands… just as my thoughts do. We will complement each other, supplement each other, and believe in the best life has to offer for each other.


Other than that, theres not much to add… I could rant on forever. I don’t know what else to say, or how else to address the consideration…

I’m tired…night 🙂

Camus: Silent Companionship

When I was young, I expected people to give me more than they could – continuous friendship, permanent emotion. Now I have learned to expect less of them than they can give – a silent companionship. And their emotions, their friendship, and noble gestures keep their full miraculous value in my eyes; wholly the fruit of grace.

From one of Camus’ entries; dated May, 1935:

He is at ease in sincerity. Very rare.


You know those pictures… or paintings… or beautiful inspiring things in life that lift your spirits, heighten the depths of your heart, and cause a flood of feelings. These are the things in life that, no matter how many times you look, they never cease to cause a chorus of joy to erupt within you. They cause your spirit to take off in full sprint, ready to take flight at any moment. But I never let it. I hold it down against everything natural and good in me. I hold it down because I know that those wings were never meant to fly. Not now anyway.

Your thoughts are preoccupied with life, the happenings that mold and shape you. In spite of these events, the ever kneading and tempering experiences, there always remains a yearning for her. A youthful heart that still has breath and strength to jump and run and laugh and play despite the years.
Its an amazing thing, love is. Perhaps it’s a choice. Perhaps it’s a maniacal desire. Perhaps it’s perfect chemistry. Perhaps all of these combined. Its persistence and potency is most admirable. I’ve come to respect these feelings. Precious and unique, it conquers all the nay saying, all the better judgment, all the contrary opinions.
My mind is at peace. It’s incubating as it reflects on decisions and present paths. My soul peers through its dim windows until it finds her. How I love the illumination she sheds on the landscapes of life. How I love the blazing lusts ignited by her beauty.
I haven’t written for a long while. A mental sabbatical has diverted most of my energies to things worldly in nature. The guilt doesn’t seem to run as deep as it once did. Better for my conscious. We’ll see how my soul fairs. It will either continue to flourish, or begin to wither from righteous deprivation.
Even now I’m traveling. I had strong thoughts that I needed to somehow shape into something. I needed to mull these over while they’re fresh in my mind.
A few months of school left until I transfer. It looks like Boston or NYC. By some miracle I could find myself in Florida. A miracle like this would only be undesirable.
I’ve spent a good portion of my free time with family while I’ve been breaking. My friends tend to be nocturnal, resorting to the self indulgences in the wee hours of the morning, when the bars are filled with drunks and retired dream chasers.
Today I visited family in Orlando. My grandparents and my oldest cousin from my fathers side. It was great to see them.
I begin my college search. I also begin planning to go back to school. Scholarships are also in need of pursuit.
I’m confident that discipline is one of the rarest virtures in the world. I’m confident that discipline is one of the most common virtues in successful people.
Discipline requires repetition and focused intent. Stamina, strength and willpower are its fruits. I need to practice discipline. I need to go out of my way to hone this Godlike trait.
There are no should’s, only must’s.
Love is flighty. I wish I had the desire to fully describe all the thoughts and feelings that swirl around inside me. A plethora of assessments, conclusions, and conjectures.
I’ll squeeze it out of me. This break has been good so far. A few more weeks until I return to school. A wonderful feeling!

Right. God.

My recent thoughts:

God is everything that is right, true, perfect, and ideal. He encompasses what is right outside of our will. We do not decide what is right. What is right exists whether we decide to seek it or not. When looking to do right, we need to seek outside our own needs and think about what is right for everyone or everything. What is right is positive and encouraging. What is right may not be the best for me as a person, but it will benefit everyone on a whole. Consider if your thought or action would help the poorest, weakest person on earth. Seeking what is right is seeking the will of God. If the world was perfect we would never have to do wrong. Because the world is imperfect, we might be forced to do wrong. Imperfect situations cause us to do wrong in order to do right. If we were held at gunpoint and forced to lie in order to save the world, and if we told the truth the world would perish, and if we didn’t say anything, our family would be tortured- we would need to lie. Granted, situations like this are extremely improbable. If it were a perfect world, there would be no reason to lie to do right. We could always do right and never have negative consequences. But we live in a world where people choose to do wrong.

For every action there is a reaction. When you do wrong, conflict arises. It may affect you or someone else. When you do right, positive always things happen. Whether we like it or not, doing wrong causes destruction somewhere. To clarify, doing wrong is anything that is not right. There are many ways to do right, but the right solution always exists. Likewise, there are many ways to do wrong and they always leads to more wrong. Right may look different to different people, but if it is right, it will be positive to all.

God is that he is. He is not a person. He is not fickle or confused. He is perfect and infallible. He allows and stands for everything that is right. He does not cause bad things to happen. Bad things occur because people choose to do wrong. Sometimes bad things happen because of wrongs done long ago. The earth is tainted because of people doing wrong. If everyone did what is right, there would be no destruction or suffering. (The Bible describes the death and suffering as a result of original sin. The first wrong committed.)

God gave man free will. Free will is special. We can choose right or wrong freely. No matter what happens, we have the power of choice. If we are lost and don’t know what is right, or do not seek what is right, we will be victims of circumstance, conditioned like animals to react in order to survive. As soon as we realize that there is right, and it leads to intrinsic and extrinsic fulfillment, we can break free from reacting and we become empowered with the ability to make meaningful choices. (The Bible describes man being made in God’s image. This means man has the ability to make choices freely and create.)

Free will allows us to make decisions freely. We can do right many different ways. We can also do wrong many different ways. God, being perfect, is everything that is right. He cannot and is not anything that is wrong. Like light, where it exists, darkness cannot. Like light, God takes on many different forms. (As I think about this, I think about light and my mind tries to draw comparisons. Light is energy. They are synonymous. Energy is exhibited as a wave through light, elementary particles as bosons or fermions, and solids as matter. In the same way- regarding how the Bible describes God- he exists as three persons (father, son, spirit), but maintains his sovereignty as being whole. In the same way that energy cannot be created or destroyed, God always is and always will be. While we can see the results of doing right, and can the trace reason why it is right by examining the factors that contributed to the results, we do not know why doing right works. Just like we do not know why there are laws that govern nature. I attribute it to God. Others attribute it to convoluted reasons and justifications that don’t lead to any definite answers.)

Because we are born, we must learn how to make choices. Our environments affect our choices. We learn how to make good or bad choices by observing our parents and nature. If we are unaware that there is right, or fail to make the connection between doing right and its positive results, we remain largely lost and pursue meaningless endeavors.

Doing right is a personal struggle. We must learn to accept that there is always a right. That right exists. If we do not seek what is right, we are left deciding what is right and wrong. This is where we make destructive decisions. It’s part of the learning process when seeking right to make the wrong decision. If we do not seek what is right, and only seek to benefit what needs we see fit, we are bound to hurt people and make decisions that are destructive.

Life is rewarding when people seek right decisions. Doing right can be sought by obeying the Golden rule. Treating others how you want to be treated. This does not mean treat everyone like you, but acknowledging and being aware that every person has feelings and needs. This does not mean condoning behaviors that are destructive. It does means loving the person and hating the wrong. We should only be concerned with doing right in our own life and setting an example. Our lives will be a testament of our yearning for right.

Just like doing right leads to lasting rewards, there are always consequences for doing wrong. For every action there is a reaction. There will be conflict somewhere if people are doing wrong. Laws are in place to protect the people who are doing right from people who do wrong. Laws are not meant for those who seek what is right. They are for those who seek what is wrong.

“But we know that the Law is good, if one uses it lawfully, realizing the fact that law is not made for a righteous person, but for those who are lawless and rebellious, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers…” 1 Timothy 1:8,9

Those who do not seek what is right, but only obey the laws do not recognize that there is a right. They are lost. They see laws as simple constructs and guidelines that should be followed, but seek out their own desires and pay no attention to the wrong they do in the process to anyone else. They have the wrong intent.

We are meant to live a fulfilling life. It does not matter how we choose to do it as long as we seek right in everything we do.

People who say God doesn’t exist do not recognize that there is a universal right. Though they unconsciously obey the laws of nature, they fail to recognize the moral laws that promote life. If they do, they attribute them to cultural factors and matters of survival. What they fail to realize is that the very morals practiced to keep people surviving and promote lasting fulfillment work because they are right. God is everything that is right.

People fail to see the connection between doing right and God. God is right, and they should see right. People fail to see why doing right leads to positive results. They attribute their success to their own abilities instead of attributing it to simply doing right. They swell with pride and think that they make their success. What that don’t realize is that they only followed the directions, they simply did what was right, and whats right always works. Doing right breeds lasting success, achievement, progress, and life. Its no wonder that the jargon surrounding survival of the fittest makes so much sense. The consequences of doing right leads to lasting life, stability, security and fulfillment.


It would take people an eternity to be perfect and always do right. We learn right through observation and trial and error. We observe the consequences of certain actions and adopt them. Simply mimicking the actions and failing to grasp the true intention of doing right is futile. It’s like chasing dust in the wind. Every action should contain the intention of doing right.

Books help illustrate what right is. We learn through books and observe consequences and situations in order to refine our understanding of what right is.

Doing right is God. This statement is not meant to distort the nature of what right is, or what God is. God is not what we think is right. It is right for all, apart from ourselves. By observing what is right, we learn to understand God’s nature.

The Bible is not rules to be followed. It is not stories of brutality and bloodshed. It is a depiction of God’s essence. Anything good can be seen or used for bad if the intent is not right. If you are not seeking what is right, you can take something good, and make it bad. The Bible is nothing more than stories of people learning to do right. The Jews are the people who learn what is right through trial and error. Whenever you do wrong, conflict will arise. It is not God standing on clouds instructing people to be killed. The Bible is an illustration of what happens naturally when people choose to do wrong.

Whether you attribute natural or moral laws to God or not, they still exist. Right decisions are those that are good for everyone, even the weakest and poorest person. Acknowledging and learning that they exist is part of our life and the process of getting to know God. Why they exist is apart of accepting that there is a God.

To deny God is to deny that there is always a right. This allows us to choose what is right. When this happens, there is disharmony. People begin choosing what they decide is right, and fail to think about what is right for everyone. This causes huge conflicts as people begin justifying wrong for right.

There is a greater good and right. To be aware of them and seeking to follow them allows for a life of greater fulfillment and ease.


The Bible provides a reference point, a visible standard and direction to guide people. Getting to know God, or getting to know what is right, is a personal process. It takes time and experience.

Being a personal process, I do not believe it is anyone’s job to change peoples mind to believe in God. Each person who knows and understands there is a God needs to be an example by pursuing what is right. The desire for right should be visible to anyone who comes across it. It should not be about rules or following guidelines. It should be about love, and doing right and helping people to do right. Love is selfless.

Love is selfless. Love is entirely about other people. Loving people means helping and encouraging them to do and be better, to improve their life. The fact that we can love people at all, that we have the ability to make others lives better is a miracle. Through words and actions, we provide people with hope and fulfillment, a better life. People can accept or reject our love. Because love is selfless, this does not matter. We realize what is right, and we continually show our love. Love makes the world better. Those who do not accept love are selfish. They do not advocate helping others. They discourage it by refusing to receive it. They deny any right, positive, encouragement people have to offer. This indicates that they are not seeking what is right.

You cannot love by hurting people. Love is not wrong. Love is everything that is right. Loving is showering someone with everything that you know to be right and good, despite the cost to you.

God loves us. The fact that there is always a right answer confirms this. The fact that we can seek and find right at all shows Gods love. Whether people like to attribute love as something that God intentionally did or not does not dismiss that right exists, and people can give what knowledge of right they know to others. This is Love. God does the same.



I am a wounded person. Sometimes I feel emotionally void. I feel like I have difficulty feeling, especially those closest to me. I feel as though my emotions were run dry in my youth, compounded with my radically demanding parents using their techniques of tough love to shape me up. Instead I feel void inside. Maybe its my friends, the guilt, hanging over my head for years as I tried coping with the thought of a suicide pact gone fucking wrong. Me trying to rationalize this notion of the responsibility lying on me, internally coping with these disastrous feelings with cutting, drugs and sick dark depressing thoughts of death. Anything to stop the feelings of guilt, emptiness and a lost sense of self value.

I want to feel comfort. Somewhere. I know you have to give it to get it, but I never felt it worked that way. I always felt like the more you gave, the more you could lose. Eventually I grew up with a superficial shield that guards my heart from over committing. It never surprises me when someone lets me down. It’s automatically expected. Its how I cope with disappointment and guilt. This problem transcends into my relationships. Friends are all right. I know that they mean a lot to me, and as long as I remain true, there is no reason for me to feel guilty about their lack of thought for me. I love unconditionally. I have a hard time feeling emotionally attached at times. I feel like I never have the right feelings even though the love is there. Women especially. I’m only receptive to an unconditional love. All else is typical. That’s why I want a mature woman. Women come and go. I can see through bullshit. I can see through petty games. I can also see when someone really cares about me. Despite their bullshit claims and antics to push me away. It hurts, yea. It hurts a lot, the games and hurt they throw my way, but I feel the love. If I didn’t I wouldn’t subject myself to it, and I would walk away unscathed. If I felt that they weren’t worth it, they weren’t worth my time and energy, I wouldn’t even waste my thoughts on them or their pathetic attempts to get under my skin. But when I feel love and when I feel that they are true, despite the bull, I subject myself to it. Not indefinitely, but my love for them resides deep within me. I may not show it, but my love it true. I may have a hard time wrapping my hands around what it means to me, but its there. I probably won’t do anything about it, cause i don’t waste my time with people who don’t give me the time, but I still obey the love. It burns within me. One day that love will be for someone who deserves it.

waking morning.

Beads of sweat roll down my face. My hair is matted and sticking to my forehead. My breathing is heavy. My heart is beating. I’m calm but raging. Our skin touches and sticks. I feel powerfully weak. I swallow hard on top of my heavy breathing. The covers are stuffy. It’s bright. Light fills the room. I sigh and breathe in deeply. She smells like fresh flowers. A euphoric satisfaction clothes me.
I point my toes and stretch my legs, curling and bending, arching my back and twisting my neck as I reach up. She rests her head on my chest and wraps her legs around me. I stare at the ceiling and wonder about my day. Totally comfortable and content. Totally. These feelings override any and all tendencies to over think. Life is simple in these moments. Frozen in the here and now and the future seems so hopeful and bright. If I could capture these moments and open them in my more knotted days. They would untangle everything.
Those butterflies. They’re perched on my heart. Swimming in that thick fluid in my chest cavity. Feelings. Emotions. They sometimes come up into my throat but I push them back down and they flutter some more. The window breeze fills the room and my skin chills with the sweat. She pulls herself even closer. I can see her thinking. Blinking. I can feel her breathing. Her warmth emanating. I’m keeping her safe. She’s keeping me warm. It’s a safe feeling of warmth. I can feel her toes dancing along her feet playfully entranced with mine. It’s a bright day. Still morning but bright. Cool. Sharp. Colorful. Full on contrast. That’s how I feel.


man oh man. i am feeling interesting right now. i told myself a few years ago that I’d never let my feelings dictate how i live my life. i dont know how much of that is true. I am searching for a passion that appeals to my logic and my feelings. I always stray from emotional discourse pertaining to my life. I dwell on it in my inner cavities and it fumigates deep in my heart but i’d never let it make me who i am. I prefer the solitary reliance on hearty logic that weaves itsr way into my agenda. Feelings make me feel alive though. This is a huge paradox that i live in. For years i was a victim to my feelings. How i felt dictated life at any given time. There was no logic involved really. flawed logic like ” If i feel great, life is great… is it not?” or if i felt bad, life was bad. but no. life is good no matter what. as long as you’re actions support the belief that life is good then no matter what you feel you should know life is good. and good thoughts bread good feelings… do they not? it is easy to think bad thought when your hormones and biochemicals communicate differently… but a single thought can bread the best of feelings from those neurotransmitters. anyway. Logic.

A woman. I dream about feelings. I dont like letting feelings interrupt a logically constructed existence. Feelings go contrary to my logic far too often. I love her. Then chase her mike. It would hinder your plan for success. alright. i wont. maybe it’s never been worth it. maybe not.Chase her mike. She won’t appreciate the sacrifice. Its not about you mike its about her. well who’s gonna think about me then? she’s not thinking of me. what if she is? its never ideal. Feelings are never Ideal. Feelings are never logically based. How i wished they were. A perfect relationship would be a logically orchestrated symphony of emotional discharge. Does that paint the picture? maybe it sounds too logical. A beautifully woven sea of harmonious understandings of love. nope. its never that mutual. The best of the relationships may touch on those magnificent waves but they never stay on those crests so close to heaven. eventually you come down and the wave beats its ferocity and power against the bow which weakens the heart and causes a change in course. Its a delicate balance of risking trust to feel.


my unicorn

I want new. I can’t wait to love again. I’ve tasted it. I’ll never forget the taste. I’ll never give up till I taste it again. Whatever it takes. as long as it’s with that person who is everything i could ask for and more. Someone that i wouldn’t mind taking on the worst they have to offer, just to taste the best another day. I would put up with it. Isn’t that love? even when they say no more and walk away… I won’t chase. but they’ll know exactly where they left me if they ever search to remember. Love, even if its with someone you’ve seen everyday, is something you’ll never get tired of. It makes life better. it gives it meaning. It makes it exciting and fresh. It invokes those feelings of childishness and curiosity. senseless enjoyment. wasting time… but its with them and they’re in your arms… and you wouldn’t trade that time for any amount of anything. ah. you know. dates. going anywhere with them because anywhere with them is new and always exciting. there is never a dull could figure them out forever. I just want a girl who’s never done finding herself. I dont ever want a girl who thinks she’s done growing as a person. she needs to be thinking and weighing and looking for meaning all the time. it makes it so much fun to be with someone who i am always getting to know as they continually get to know their full potential. and i cant wait to find a woman who i can encourage. and give my all to. to help her achieve her amazing potential. i would give my everything to see her achieve her desire and bask in the accomplishment. just to catch a glimpse of those smiling eyes and be in the presence of the warm glow of happiness she emanates. i would give my everything to her. to foster her. to love her. to encourage her. i would love to be crazy with her. ridiculously free and happy. id love to sit on our porch overlooking weathered ocean dunes and witness the heavenly surge of ocean waters creep towards us… as every crashing wave dissolves its form and sound into the atmosphere. to hold hands. just to touch. to feel our souls touch from across the room when i catch her eye. she’ll be my unicorn… but she’ll be mine.

i dunnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


there comes a point where you run out of answers. the bandaids dont seem to stick anymore. you have to hold them on the wound to prevent bleeding if you ever want it to heal. love never goes away. youd think that it would. everything passes. new days rise and fall. the seasons come and go. the new dies and passes away turning to old. why then does love persist just as strong as the first moment my eyes passed her way and caught glimpse of the embodiment of love should look like. idealism just doesnt work in love. there is nothing ideal about love. about being selflessly devoted to another. and not having answers. try to hold it together. hm. i wonder. sometimes i feel like dwelling on the past is a horrible thing. then i rationalize and call it reflecting. well. it hurts. i feel like i always have an answer, even if it isnt the end all be all it answers the here and now. that suffices me for a shortwhile. till i find i need more answers. i should place my faith in god and the future and do my best at what i know is right.

i lie to myself alot. i think. i figured it out. the new is new when its all you have. you need to replace the new with something innovative so it looses its zest and appeal. and if its ne

No more breaking

Thursday, April 14, 2005

i dont want my heart to break for no reason. sometimes i find it necessary to break my own heart. i get complacent with my feelings and i become numb to the happenings around me. i have to hurt to feel again. people get upset with me for being insensitive. they dont realize its unintentional. although alot of times when i recognize the insensitive state i choose to stay cold… sometimes… i try far too hard sometimes… and not nearly hard enough other times. people try far to hard sometimes… and not nearly hard enough other times. i dont like being taken for granted.. and i do things to avoid being taken for granted. i dislike when people go out of thier way to give a shit… just so it can be noted that they gave a shit… when in their heart they dont give a fuck. they dont even make the effort to make thier efforts worthwhile. useless. i started lifting again.. i cant wait. i want to gain 20 lbs in the next 3 months. 185bs. i met my neighbor for the first time last week. shes an interesting person. fun. i like being creative. i like writing. ive been beingh creative and writing alot lately. its been… refreshing. i like expanding my mind. love is painful and difficult. its also absolutely amazing. i want to be in love forever.
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