the first day of spring?


I wouldn’t have noticed it myself but thanks to a news telecast I happened to walk by last afternoon I learned that spring is upon us. Spring has finally sprung.

But strange thoughts ran through my mind.

Why does today feel exactly the same as yesterday? Why will tomorrow probably feel the same too? It’s will still be dark in the early morning. The temperature will warm up in the day, and dip below zero at night. Everything will appears to still be dead and all wildlife sill continue to hide. 

Nothing is awake, but now its spring, so what does it mean?

This got me thinking.

Is it nature that is at fault for not fully realizing that it should change already, or that we superficially and arbitrarily selected this day to be the mathematical beginning of something new.

A new welcome season.

I think it goes without saying that its the latter which got me thinking so more. How many other things in our life have been marked out artificially on our behalf?

How many things that we do or don’t do have been marked like the coming of spring?

How many things in your life have already been predetermined?

I read a post by a sixty five year old woman yesterday who asked if there was any use in becoming a writer at her age. She now had a lot of time in her day to write, but was wondering if she should bother because she felt too old. She wondered if she should bother even though writing had been a passion of hers since she was a little girl.

She had always wanted to write stories, but life always got in the way. There was always important and grown up to do. Life was clearly marked out. The responsibilities were many, and the time to do such childish things like writing was scarce if non existent.

One person replied that it didn’t matter. She either had a story to write or she didn’t. She was old or she wasn’t. One had nothing to do with the other and besides, what if she lived til she was ninety five? How many great novels could she write over the next thirty years? So why not write. Write because you want to, not because someone told you that its the first day of spring.

I encourage you to examine the things you tell yourself.

Examine the patterns and movements of your soul.

What things have you neglected because it is either too silly or its not the right time.

You’re waiting for the freedom of summer. You’re waiting for your kids to grow up. You’re waiting to be debt free. Waiting for retirement. Waiting for the weekend.

Waiting for what?

There is nothing wrong with marking the coming of spring as long as you know that marking the coming of spring doesn’t replace spring itself. 

Spring moves at its own pace, just as your life and your dreams.

It may take years to see yours through, so you might as well begin.

Don’t wait til you’re sixty five to begin.

But if you find yourself there, begin anyway.


last breath


On my birthday in August of 2009 my dad was taken to the hospital because he was talking gibberish. He was making little sense, like he was drunk or worse. A day or so later we learned that his lungs were utterly exhausted from the many years of heavy smoking and from working in unsafe conditions at a chemical factory in Poland. In his early seventies his poor lungs could no longer expel the carbon monoxide that filled them and so he was slowly suffocating.

It was a very surreal moment when the nurses flushed his lungs and they were once again full of oxygen. Over time my dad returned to normal, at least for the time being, but that was very short lived. Nothing else could be done. His lungs were irreparable. 

We faced his death together. There was nothing left to do but say some goodbye and wait it out.

It seemed like eternity, sitting there by his hospital bed, just waiting for him to die. It seemed like eternity, but it took no more than a blink of an eye. 

One moment, my dad was struggling and gasping for his next breath, and the next moment there was nothing but silence.

He was gone.

He last breath was gone.

He was no more.

No more.

Years have passed but he continues to live inside my heart. His son. That little boy who loved him so much. Who looked up to him and cherished him. A father now, who would take all the riches of the world to get back for a brief moment, back to that hospital bed. To listen to those lungs once again, and watch them rise and fall one more time.

I never had a chance to meet my grandmother Monica, and I have a few spotted memories of my grandfather Joseph. I loved and absolutely adored my grandmother Victoria, but did not have a chance to meet my grandfather Paul either. 

I have absolutely no idea who my great-grandparents were and so it seems we live our lives surrounded by but five generations of memories. 

We are lucky sometimes to know our grandparents, our parents, ourselves, our children, and before we know it, its almost time to go, as we lay our eyes and marvel at our grandchildren.

I’m not at the end yet but I am fascinated and wonder if there is a reason for this short generational experience. I wonder if there is a meaning or purpose as to why we only ever reach back and forth so far. 

I wonder who will remember my dad when I am gone?

But perhaps that doesn’t matter.

Perhaps what matters is what the two of us shared something beautiful, and that it doesn’t matter if anyone else ever remembers us, or hears about it.

His last breath gives me life and I cannot help but see his face and my mother’s, when I look in the mirror each and every morning. I miss both of them and I pray that they are proud of me. I hope that I have made something of my life. That my life has been worth their love and sacrifice. 

We certainly don’t get much time.

And we spend much of it comparing and measuring ourselves against some idea of greatness.

Maybe life is meant to be simple.

Maybe happiness comes about by being and not doing.

Maybe life reveals itself in every breath we take.

Maybe time is more important than money.

Maybe our lives matter more than we care to admit.


night terrors


I don’t usually dream.

Though occasionally they do seep through, but typically, my head hits the pillow and the next thing I know its time to get up again.

Sometimes I sit back and listen enviously as people retell their dreams with such vivid detail, because it all sounds so entertaining and fun. It all seems so exciting and thrilling to have a chance to watch your very own private Hollywood thriller. It gives private screening a whole new meaning.

But sometimes the only thing on the bill are night terrors.

Such was the case last night.

There was no particular reason for this, although that is probably not true.

I have been threatening my subconscious mind for a while now, or my inner child, I’m not really sure which, that I am going to brazenly publish a book shortly. And not just a book, but a whole series of books, hoping to help other people, just like me, dig for deeper meaning in their life.

In the last few days I printed my official manuscript and carefully organized all the pages in a bright yellow duo-tang folder. I have began the final process of getting all the loose pieces of thought together so they can be handed over to my editor mid week.

Holding that manuscript in my hands felt a bit surreal. I can only vaguely remember writing any of the words, yet here they are, for better or for worse.

I think that was the reason for my night terrors.

The manuscript was the trigger for me terrible dreams.

Through the night people I didn’t know were coming at me relentlessly, accusing me of being a fake and a fraud. It was like being back in grade school, when hoards of spoiled little children would gang up on me and tell me that I didn’t belong in this country. That I will never speak English properly. That I’m not worth the breath I breathe.

I couldn’t shake these night terrors last night. I just kept tossing and turning. I kept going back and forth. Continually being chased and chased and chased.

I finally stopped running and defending myself at 4:02 am, when I was finally shaken from my sleep. I have grown to love that time of early morning, but this is especially true today.

I’m not really sure what to do with any of this or why I am sharing this, other than perhaps you can relate to my story.

I am stubborn and will no deviate from what I intend to do. No matter what, I have to see this project of my through to the very end. 

To be honest, I’m not really confident enough that it will take me anywhere, or make any difference to anyone, but I learned not to get ahead of myself, and that the reason we do certain things aren’t always clear at the very start. We never know why we do what we do, and where it will ultimately lead us. We just have to see this thing through to the end.

I am truly amazed at the night terrors that met me last night and all the terrible thoughts that clearly lurk somewhere deep inside of me.

I am so grateful that the sun chased them away.

I also feel for all those people whose night terrors never go away. For those whose night terrors turn and seep into their daily life. Those nightmares can really stifle and choke you. It feels like there is very little you can can do about it. It must feel helpless not being able to shake yourself awake from a living nightmare.

I find writing helps. Prayer and meditation are not bad either. Surrounding yourself with positive people is of immense help. Cutting down on all the noise that is perpetually present all around us is non negotiable.

I wish you a wonderful day.

I wish you continuous pleasant dreams.

Stay close to the meaning in your life.

Fight night terrors with courage and purpose.


weekend quotable no. 75


It does not matter how slowly you go

as long as you do not stop.



Wisdom, which seems diametrically opposed to the world’s idea of progress, moves at a very subtle pace, and if we don’t see her wisdom, progress will unequivocally grind us down.

Grind us down into sickness.

Grind us down into meaninglessness.

Turn us into a thing. 

Our world is obsessed with progress.

Obsessed with speed, repeatability, reliability, deliverability, and profit.

Our world is obsessed with creating material goods that brands itself as bigger and better. Droves of people obsess themselves over the release of the next episode of whatever, and line up for days to adopt the next prototype, as long as they are the first. As long as its delivered faster, and faster, and faster.

What once took years, now takes hours. What once took hours, now takes minutes. But we are not any happier. We are not healthier. We don’t live any more meaningfully, but we certainly do love to quit. We love to stop, especially when the going gets tough, when life gets murky, when progress feels a bit distant and uncertain.

Our appetite for progress seems limitless and unbridled.

It is often our folly and downfall. 

Wisdom is different.

It moves slowly. It moves most determinably. 

It is not afraid to pivot and head in a new direction.

It doesn’t care how slow you go.

It doesn’t mind if you make countless mistakes and experience oodles of failures.

It only cares that you do your part.

It cares that you never stop.

Never stop trying. Never stop caring. Never stop living.

That’s the key to a good life.

Not giving up.

Never giving up trying.

Pushing through.

No matter how slow you go.

No matter how fast other people think you should be going.


weekend quotable no. 74


I have noticed even people who claim everything is predestined, 

and that we can do nothing to change it, 

look before they cross the road.

Stephen Hawking


We say we’re not predestined but we sure live like it.

We tell ourselves we’re no good. That we cannot change. That the deck is stacked against us.

We check our daily horoscopes. Look for answers in the stars. Make friends with illustrious psychics and obsess over the size and shade of our auras. 

We live like we’ve been given no choice.

We act like there is nothing we can do about anything.

Like we’ve resigned to live without hope.

To breathe merely to exist.

To pass a little time.

To distract ourselves a little.

Yet we still look both ways when we cross the road.

Maybe its because we don’t want to get hurt or perhaps old childhood habits die hard.

Regardless, I think deep down we know better and know we have choices we can make.

It’s certainly not easy to lead but it is to follow, and many of us choose the trappings of luxury and comfort over our precious freedom.

We have become seduced to choose predictability over uncertainty.

Vanilla over the pangs and pains of possible failure.

We are ok with neglecting our freedom of choice.

We cross the road, like the chicken, to merely get to the other side.


Without a reason.

Without purpose.




Maybe if we choose to look both ways, we should find a reason why we crossed the road in the first place.

What do you long to do with your life?

Be patient and tenacious in finding a meaning in what you do.

Be conscious of the choices you make.

Close your mouth a little if you’re getting too fat.

Read a good book if you’re getting a little dumb.

Talk to strangers if your friends no longer want to listen.

Your life is not predestined.

You can unstuck yourself.

By making a simple decision.

By being free.


get out of your own way


Get out of your own way and get a move on.

Do it today. 

Yes, before you find yourself in this exact spot next year, or the year after that, like you did last year, wondering the same thing over and over again. Feeling rotten about it.

Do it before you end up doing the same thing.


Stop yelping, moaning, and bemoaning all the things you haven’t done yet for whatever the reason. Stop imagining how terrible it will feel if you fail. Stop caring what people will say. Stop focusing on your mistakes. Stop satisfying other people’s insecurities, as well as your own.

Get a move on and live a little.

Give a little.

Hope a little.

Get a move on.

You’ve always wanted to travel the world but its never the right time for you. You never have enough money and you feel so utterly selfish even thinking about going somewhere. After all you could do so much more with the money you don’t even have yet or haven’t thought of saving.

What a crazy puddle of muck you’ve thrust yourself into.

What an impossible series of mental gymnastic exercises you’re up against.

You’ve always wanted to be a writer, ever since you were a child, and in fact you’ve written countless number of poems and volumes upon volumes of stories. Created magical places and unforgettable characters, but you don’t want to let them go. You want to keep them prisoner in your own mind. You are resigned on keeping them hidden in some digital computer file, safely tucked away, where no one will ever see and no one will ever find out who you really are.

Is it really that hard to be who you want to be?

A traveler, a writer, a singer, a dancer, a romancer?

Isn’t it time to get out of your own way?

Isn’t it time to live a little? 

Why not find someone to have a professional look at your work and let them help you bring those characters and stories to life? Isn’t it time to give birth to those stories, so that we can all enjoy them? Shouldn’t the reader have the choice to decide if they like them, or do you think you should be the one that makes that choice for them?

Don’t you want to write more? Don’t you want to know what people think? Don’t you wonder how great it would feel to connect with your readers? To inspire others? To make others see and feel what you see and feel?

Do you even know what a plane ticket to Paris costs? Do you know how much it costs to stay in a rented room in the centre of the city, or a modest hotel on the outskirts? Do you know how much a rail pass costs, which would allow you to see the rest of Europe? Do you even know how much money you would need to eat?

You say you want to travel. You tell everyone how much you would love to see the world, yet you always stand in your own way. Always propped up against the door, casting a deep shadow, never doing the simplest of things to get your dreams in motion.

Get a move on, will you?.

Live a little?

Today is a day full of opportunity and hope.

Today is the day you gently nudge yourself out of the doorway.

Push yourself back.

Lean forward.

And get a move on.


second innocence


Parenting is tough at times.  

An unscripted adventure, full of interruptions, tantrums, screams, petulant foot stomping, and when the kids are there, they certainly don’t make it any easier either.

Parenting is not for the faint of heart. 

However, if you take the time to reflect and observe your children, or borrow some from time to time,  you’ll discover a great deal about yourselves.

Kids have two modes.

They are either childlike or childish.

We have two modes too. 

We are either selfless or selfish. 

Except for us, we should know better. We are older. Have more experience. Are seasonably wise. With fully developed brains and we have reached an age of maturity, or so we pretend sometimes, and this gives us our ability and wherewithal, to reason and choose to be who we wish to be.

But kids can’t help themselves.

When they get mad they get mad. When they don’t get their way they hate everyone and everything. When they get punished, they feel confused and wrestle with remorse. The younger they are, the faster they set things right. The older they get, the more they resemble us.

They are emotional little creatures.

And God bless them for that.

And God bless whiskey and wine makers.

Kids fight with one other one minute and then become best friends the next. 

They also forget a lot. An awful lot. They forgive each other. They let things go. They move on. They get back to the business at hand. They revert to being children and they embrace being alive.

They love everything. They aren’t afraid to fall.

Unless we teach them of course. 

Until they learn from others otherwise.

We are a bit more sheepish. A lot more reserved. 

We are childish grownups.

We make our beds and lie in them.

Our every decision leads is one way or another.

We are either selflessness or selfish.

We don’t have the ability to rebound well. 

Not as well as our children do, which is why we desperately need to return to our second innocence.

We have to crawl our way back.

Back to being a child.

Return to being childlike.

For our divine sake.

Now that we’ve grown, we have to rise like the phoenix from the desert of miseducation. We have to rise and reconnect with things we’ve always wanted to be and do.

Before we grew up and discovered the right way.

The right way to spell. To draw. To dance. To smile and smell. 

The right body to have. The right body to covet.

The right way to talk, walk or flock.

The right religion to embrace.

The right war to wage.

The right way to live and die.

We have to find our way back to our innocence.

To being a child. Being childlike.

We have to rediscover that we don’t have to be miserable. That life is indeed fair. That the good shit is not gone.

It’s not. You just can’t see it. You can’t see much when you navel gaze and are too afraid of everything.

But there is hope. There is always hope.

Life is full of opportunity. 

There is always a chance. There is always a point. 

Life is full of meaning.

To the very end. Available at any time. To anyone. For any reason.

You just have to become a child.

Become childlike.

Abandon being selfish.

Forget being childish.

Be a child.

Discover your second innocence.

There is no third.


around the corner


You don’t know what’s around the corner.

And that’s ok.

But take the corner.

The future is unknown but it is never as scary as people make it out to be.

The winter always gives way to spring. The economy always finds ways to correct itself and you will always get new opportunities to start something, to finish what you started, perhaps as far back as a child, and thats because there is a natural, unheard heartbeat in all of creation.

There is a natural order to everything and there’s no reason to fear anything.

So don’t be afraid.

Take the next corner.

Take the corner with confidence.

Turn that corner because there will be others, even better ones.

Life is not a game of checkers. You cannot just skip your way from one  square to another. You can’t queen yourself. You have to take a corner, or you will never get to the next.

You were born so you could live, and this is true despite the dying bit.

Dying is not easy, and it is more than a little ironic.

We were born so that one day we would die. Thats all there is to it. Simple. 

The meaning of it all gets a little complicated.

We were born with nothing and we will leave with nothing. We are free to use anything you find in the sandbox, but remember that it’s not your sandbox. No matter how good you are at building sand castles, you have to leave it all behind. 

 In the process of bracing for our certain curtain call, many of us forget to live.

We forget to suck the marrow out of life. To push beyond our own mental limitations. We forget to do what gives us great joy and meaning.

Our fears and those nagging voices in our head desperately long for security. They delude us into thinking that all will be fine if we learn to play it safe. If we avoid turning corners. If we stay on our familiar street. If we do this or that. If we save a bit, borrow a bit, or invest a little. It will all turn out alright if we just store enough canned goods in our nuclear bunker. Everything will be just fine.

But it won’t.

A life lived and toiled for mere comfort and security is a lie.

A life lived in fear is not a life.

We watch in millions and marvel at the world of The Walking Dead, but we don’t see others, when we pass through them. We don’t realize that when we take to the streets, we are among the living dead.

People that are alive but not quite living.

Not quite dead, but not alive either.

Quiet people.

Shy people.

Desperate people.

Medicated people.

Lonely people.

Elenor Rigby and Father McKenzie.

A truly sad sight to behold.

This is why you must turn that corner.

Make your way around the bend.

Fear not and get moving.

Life lives there.

Around the bend.

Your dreams hang out in undiscovered part of town.

You just have to get there.

You have to be there.

It’s never to late.

So push yourself.

Fight for the life you want.

Have courage to make the turn.

Make the bend.

Take your turn.

Around the corner.


strength in weakness


What it means to be strong and weak has been terribly misunderstood by many.

We have come to adorn the first and shun the other.

We have learned to flaunt our strengths like peacocks and we do our best to hide our weaknesses like a rapidly spreading disease.

But why?

Being good at something is clearly better than not being good at something. There is no denying that, but there is something missing here. What is hidden in all this, is how embarrassing it feels to be wrong, how preconditioned we are not to try new things, and how vicious we are with one another when we don’t get things right.

Real strength. True strength, lies in our ability to choose to do something. 

You may feel like driving your fist through someone’s ugly face because they deserve it, and they probably do, but being able to do so also gives you the power to grant them mercy. You can’t grant mercy, if you’re incapable of fighting in the first place. Knowing how to use your fist gives you the power to do so or not to do so. You have the ability to choose to do so, or not to do so.

The same can be said about human weaknesses.

There is strength in our weakness.

When we find ourselves confronted with the inability to do something, we have a choice to be either subjected to that weakness or to openly rage war against it.

We have choose to give in, or brace ourselves.

Sometimes this decision takes seconds.

Sometimes we flop about it, like a sunfish, fighting for her life on a hot wooden dock.

Strength and weakness both have the same noble mother and our happiness depends on getting them right.

Peace is not the absence of war. 

If you are unable to kick ass, you don’t really have the power not to kick ass. You cannot give what you don’t have. You cannot withhold what you don’t have in the first place. It is therefor important to grow and develop your talents to their fullest. But being good at something doesn’t mean you have to yield it over someone else.

If you can sing like an angel, that doesn’t mean, when you’re in a room, that you need to drown out everyone else's voice, who is trying to sing also.

There is room in this world for everyone. 

There is a stage for anyone.

There is a great need for birds of all skill levels to have their turn. To have their voice heard. The world needs more music. The world needs more voices. Of all shapes and sizes. Far more than it needs gossip, conflict, and war. Far more than it needs the voice of but one angel.

Take courage in your weaknesses.

Weakness offers you great strength.

A strength that comes from knowing what it means to be weak.

A great tenacity of spirit in knowing you’ve overcome something.

There is a great need today not to be afraid to show those we meet our vulnerability.

We must not hide our weakness.

We hide far too much, and what makes us weak has such great power to unite us to one another.

It is important that we see each other bleed. 

On the inside. 

So we don’t raise our fist against one another.

There is great strength in weakness.

There is untapped potential in getting it wrong.

In being wrong.

Don’t be afraid of your mistakes.

Believe in your yourself.

Be strong, despite being weak.


it's your time


It has been a while. 

This journey of mine. 

The life of self discovery and self development. This magnificent quest of not waiting any longer for something to happen in my life, but having the guts instead to make it happen.

I look back at the many pieces of writing staring back, neatly labeled in my writing folder and I wonder who wrote them, how this person found the time, and where all those pockets of thought came from? 

When I made the choice to get at it, I promised myself that I wouldn’t ask if my thoughts were any good. I was advised early on that doing so was a deathly trap for a writer, an artist, or anyone else starting anything, really.

I made a vow to do the best I can, with what time and energy I could steal away, and that one day I would present my work in some kind of published corpus. Somewhere, somehow, in some distant future. 

That somewhere and that distant future is drawing closer and closer. I am on the verge of self publishing my first set of books this summer and my heart is palpitating a little. 

I thought I would face agonizing reservations. I thought my self doubts would beat me down, but its as though they have accepted the fact that we are actually doing this. It’s as though my doubts and fears are resigned that there is no use to resist. That we are strapped into our freshly painted rollercoaster car. Cherry red and smooth to the touch. That we are in the midst of being pulled up to the top, and there is just no use protesting, because everything is now up to someone else, something else. 

Fate. Destiny and the Laws of Gravity.

I am writing today to remind you that its your turn too.

I think you should take your work a little more seriously, if you’ve neglecting it.

I think you should give yourself some credit.

Respect your talents.

Discover what they are. Feed yourself the knowledge you need.

Spend no more time in self-criticism and self-doubt.

Form habits that will uplift you. Habits that will commit your life to a process that will support your dreams.

The other day I went out with some friends for a pint of beer. 

It was cold and delicious, if you are dying to know.

And I realized something profound that evening. I realized that I have somehow managed to surround myself with many very optimistic, kind, supportive people. It seems that I’m surrounded with a blanket of great hope. 

I realized this because the company I was sharing a beer with was very reserved. Not mean in any sense. They are lovely people, but negative and doubtful. Our conversation revealed that they wanted to be hopeful, but they  resigned themselves to the undeniable fact that their work would ultimately fail. They submitted to the idea that their dreams won’t really come true. That its best to prepare for disappointment, because it takes some of the impending sting away.

I did not relish that evening in the least.

I have no grand illusions of grandeur.

I am well aware of the fact that my hard work might in the end be nothing more than a fart in the wind, and have little impact on anyone. I realize that despite everything I desire, I might not be able to turn my passion for writing into a viable career.

The future is certainly not in my hands.

I know I can fail. I realize that my work may not be good enough.

But I also know that I control the here and now.

I decide what I do today.

I control who I listen to and surround myself with.

I believe its your turn.

It’s your time.

A time not to listen to your friends.

A moment to ignore yourself, if you think your work is stupid or unimportant, or won’t lead anywhere.

Don’t accept defeat before you begin.

Doing so won’t lead you where you want to be and is a deadly recipe for restlessness.

This is your time.

It’s your turn.

You should believe it.

Act accordingly.