Dreams Feed

where your future hides

 

Your future hides in the present.

In this very moment.

Understanding the future is a somewhat tricky and ambiguous business.

What is to come is always able to hide in open sight precisely because we fail to gaze upon her. We end up looking right through her

We mistakes our dreams and think of what is to come, as some kind of indication of what our future will look like and we resign ourselves to living our lives and murmuring, some day.

But our future. Our dreams. The vision and blueprint of who we really desire to be and what we long to have, is right here. Hidden in the present moment.

Your future that you see in your minds eye is not so much an indication of what is going to come, as it is a call to do what needs to be done. Done right now. 

If you’re like me and dream of being a writer or an artist, you imagine being able to make a living by connecting with readers and helping them leap forward. Helping them leap into being who they are sometimes afraid of becoming. Helping them to imagine the possibilities and not being scared of who they are meant to be.

Your dreams have definitely something to do with the future, there is no denying that, but they have so much more to say about where you find yourself today and what your next steps should be at this present moment.

If you see yourself travelling the world one day. When you find the time. When you retire. When you have saved enough money, you should definitely pack your suitcase this weekend and begin to travel right now. 

That is perhaps a bit too much hyperbole but you should definitely do it soon. Do it before you retire. Find the time. Do it before you have all the money because when you’re older, you will have new dreams. You will find yourself a bit wiser and older, you may find yourself to be a touch tired, hopefully not unwell, and perhaps having the time of your life looking after your grand babies. 

When that day arrives that you dreamt of, you may have found yourself a whole set of dreams altogether.

Your dreams are for right now.

They are an indication of what you want today.

You don’t have it, but that doesn’t matter. 

Your ideas of things to be are trying to tell you what you need to do.

If you want to be a writer, go and continue writing. If you want to open a restaurant, go make meals for your family every day, like they were your first customers.

If you want to run a marathon, go outside and try to at least make it all the way to the mailbox. Tomorrow, try to double the distance.

If you are lonely and want to be in love, go take a shower, dress yourself up and go out to a place where there are likeminded people. Your future lover is not going to accidentally bump into you. You have to go out and find them.

Accidents happen, when you’re living with purpose.

You’ll get lucky, after you’ve done all the work.

Let your future be your guide. 

A blueprint of what needs to be done.

Today.

Right now.

Not tomorrow.

Not someday.

This day.

If you’re waiting for permission to begin, begin. If you’re wondering if you’re good enough, you are good enough.

Listen to your dreams. Don’t look past them.

Embrace them.

 


do what you can

 

Do what you can.

No matter how little. How small and how insignificant.

Do it despite the half-hearted effort.

Do what you can because the teeter-totter habit of doing all or nothing will ultimately lead you to nowhere. It will very likely drag your limp mind, to some dark places, where you’d rather not be, and might not be able to get out of, for a long, long time.

When you do what you can, it won’t feel like you’re doing much. It will feel like what you’re doing doesn’t matter. It won’t feel right at all, or good, but do it anyway.

There will be days like this.

Perhaps many days like this, but they too shall pass.

Do what you can.

Eventually you’ll recover from that terrible cough you’ve been stubbornly harbouring for weeks now. And you won’t remember any of the tedious work that sprung up unexpectedly while you were away from the office.

Sometimes your dreams will be a bit neglected, while you are given no choice but to watch your coworkers scramble and push to new corporate heights. Watch them scramble in a new glorious direction.

This corporate and unionized world runs on new initiatives. It is lost without them. It thrives on reinventing, repackaging, and reselling what already works.

Be patient and keep doing something, because you will always stare down new and fresh initiatives that are meant to replace the old and stale ones. They always replace the work that never had a chance to mature or bear fruit, which was implemented not that long ago, but that is of no one’s concern now, because everyone is encouraged to be giddy with the new.

You have to do what you can.

When you can.

As often as you can.

No matter what.

No matter what the circumstances you’re facing. No matter what the excuses in your head are telling you. Those sons of bitches are concocting an offer for the easy road; a peaceful resolution. They give you permission to stand down.

It’s ok to do nothing.

You’ve earned it.

Wait until you’re ready. Wait until that stubborn cough leaves you. When you get some free time, perhaps next weekend. Do it when you find a new job or get a new boss. When the weather turns nicer. After the holidays. When your finances are in order. When your kids are a little more grown and in need of a little less attention. Wait until those aches and pains in your back work themselves out. Wait a little longer. A little bit longer.

Wait.

Come to think of it, you should probably have a little nap. To refresh yourself. You need it, after all you’ve been through. You’ve worked so hard. Too hard.

There is nothing for you to do really. Under the present circumstances all you can do is wait and hope your problems work themselves out.

One day.

Some day.

Don’t listen.

Do what you can instead. It really does add up. You have the ability to grow and change by doing little things and doing them for a very long time, and then one day, someone will notice and falsely believe that you got to where you are because you’re just lucky. It’s just easy for you.

It won’t be easy.

Weight training when you have a head cold will feel exhausting. Helping your kids with their homework, when you have so much of your own work to do will feel like an utter waste of time. A coffee date with a dear friend, in the middle of all the chaos, when there is so much work to do, is not only irresponsible, but truly insulting to the company you work for.

How dare you make decisions for your own life?

How dare you want to be happy?

Who gave you the right to live meaningfully?

Ignore them.

Do what you can.

When you can.

How often as you can.

A little bit of I can, will uplift your soul, and will guard you against the awful tragedy and terminal submission of I can’t.

 


it's never too late to fly

 

I want to fly.

There’s no doubt in my mind now.

Not anymore. Not now.

I want to fly, and my dreams have been gloriously reawakened.

It has taken me far too long to think it through. It has taken far too long to embrace. Thankfully, however, I am fortunate, that there is plenty of time to see it through.

I want to fly.

No doubt about it.

Having never flown before, I am well aware of the risks. Even if I wasn’t, there are many kind, or seemingly kind people, who are willing to point those dangers out to me. To discourage me and you for that matter, from flying too close to the sun. From dreaming. From trying. From living an vigorous life, instead of watching from a distance. A life of timid but safe observer.

After almost five decades of listening to people, you get to a point in your life where you stop caring about the risks. You stop giving some rats behind about what people say. Stop caring about the seemingly inevitable calamities that lie in wait. How embarrassing it will be. How humiliated you will feel.

You begin to trust and use the wings that you were born with. You become empowered by them. You marvel how they have grown in strength over the years, despite the fact that they have never seen high winds.

You begin to anticipate and dream about your moment.

The moment when you excitedly nudge yourself forward, toward the precipice of possibilities. Hoping you will not change your mind. Hoping for the beautiful things to come. Hoping you won’t waste any more time and will now, right now, summon the courage to leap.

You should fly too.

Fly towards your dreams. Fly to places of unseen opportunities. Fly with people you would otherwise never have a chance to meet.

After all, you’re not flying away from something, but to the contrary. You are flying towards something. Something new. Something meaningful. Something absolutely magical.

Staying grounded is safe and comfortable.

But you were not built for safety and comfort.

You are governed by powerful inner voices, for sure, like your conscience, so that you don’t do anything truly stupid (anymore), but outside of those few mishaps during those college years and beyond, you were always meant to be great.

You were meant to be a force to be reckoned with.

And you can’t cause trouble, walking around, half asleep or semi awake, definitely fully confused, waiting for a sign, hoping for a push, and being content with so very little.

So, come fly with me.

Ignore the dangers of flying too close to the sun and realize the agony of flying too close to the ground or not flying at all. Of giving up, and not making any effort to share your gifts with others.

I will fly alone, but I prefer some company.

The sky is a big, majestic space, full of infinite possibilities.

With room for everyone.

But those possibilities won’t come to you. You must come to them.

I feel sad and nauseated because I haven’t leapt before. I wasn’t willing to work hard enough, long enough, and I quit way too early, before I could embrace my dreams. But as despondent and stomach-churning as this reality is, I think it would be unforgivable and indefensible, to believe that it’s too late for me now.

It would be unforgivable and indefensible for you too.

Time moves forward and for this reason it is never too late.

Never too late to let go of our fear.

Never too late to ignore the negative chatter that binds us to our insecurities.

Never too late to begin.

Never too late for courage.

Never too late to leap.

Never too late to fly.

 


lily pads

 

There is a shadowy force in our life that is always working against us. A power that wages war against our dreams. Trying to slow us down and grind our efforts into dust. Hoping to lure us into taking the easy road, into resigning ourselves to a life of quiet reservation. A comfortable life, where we stir up no more trouble and abandon our foolish desires for things that hang out of reach.

We must battle these forces. We must rise up against them, because otherwise, nothing ever happens. It’s as though life demands to know how serious we are. How focused. How desperate How truly deserving.

Life demands to know what cost we are willing to bear.

The spoils of war go to the last woman standing.

Steven Pressfield calls it the resistance.

Seth Godin calls it the Lizard brain.

A carry over from our evolutionary human history, which means well and aims to keep us safe. Safe from things we no longer need to be protected from. Safe and hidden from opportunities and great personal success.

One of the strategies that this mysterious force (this Lizard brain) employs against us, is very subtle.

It uses the multiplicity of dreams to slow down and destroy our work.

It’s been over a year since I made the commitment to write every day, in the hopes of publishing Quintessential Quotables, along with Diggin’ Ditches, sometime in 2018.

Recently though, my mind has been flooded with passionate desires to write fiction. To abandon what I have been doing and take a new direction toward writing some great detective stories.

I have always been in love with Sherlock Holmes, especially the BBC version with Jeremy Brett, as the great detective.  

I have been thinking and dreaming about how great it would feel to create a new memorable series of quintessential characters. To immerse myself in a fictitious world responding to my every whim and desire. To abandon this madness of non-fiction. To breathe life into something else. Something new. To give birth to a better dream.

Better.

How glorious that would feel? How great it would be?

Very.

But that is exactly the danger.

This is exactly how I’ve managed to muck things up in the past, by abandoning every endeavour I have ever attempted.

I never finished anything.

Like a young frog, at the precipice of spring time, I kept on jumping from one shiny lily pad to another. Hoping that happiness and success, was only one hop away. That the fulfilment of my dreams was dependent on landing on the right one.

The truth is that we have nothing without finishing what we start.

We need to resist the temptation to begin something new, before we have a chance to finish what seems old.

Only by being done. By being finished. By reaching the end, can we take the next step and know if we made something worthwhile. If our dream will come true. If we are on edge of greatness or defeat.

But without the end, without persistence, we can be falsely seduced to a perpetual life of distraction.

Without honouring our original commitment, we will be left with nothing but frustration and questions of what went wrong.

Regardless of our effort, we need to produce a result. We owe it to ourselves to discover if we’ve made something good, or if it’s a bit funky, and we need to make something else.

Shiny bright lily pads are seductively distracting.

None of them have intrinsic magical powers.

Running from here to there seems like progress, but it’s a trap.

The best way through, is just to stay where you are, and keep doing what you’ve been doing.

I know it doesn’t sound particularly exciting and that’s because it isn’t.

It’s work.

Just gold old fashioned, boring, hidden work.

That’s what you need to embrace the most.

Don’t get seduced by anything else.

Don’t get tired hoping from one lily dream to the next.

Get tired finishing something that you started.

 


do something

 

You can do something.

Yes you can.

I didn’t say anything and everything.

Trying to do everything or anything is a trap for perfectionists and procrastinators alike. The former works with great intensity, but never gets anywhere, because there is always everything to do. And the latter, gets nothing done, because they are never ready, forever waiting, never feeling good enough, for anything.

Anything.

Anything is like foolishly grasping for a cow’s teat in the dark, when you know, you’re lactose intolerant.

Everything is simply unrealistic and stupid.

So, go and do something.

Something doesn’t have to be perfect, but you do have to begin.

You have to begin today.

Remember, that you don’t have to be great to begin, but you do have to begin in order to be great. (Zig Ziglar)

So, start right now.

Without excuses.

Find something to do. Something purposeful. Something meaningful. Something that will reimagine your life and give you a second childhood.

How, you say?

It doesn’t matter.

Think back to your early years and begin there. Look for your dreams. Look for any forgotten pinky swears. Look for things you promised you would do. Look for something that you might have forgotten, which made you feel so good inside. So happy. So alive. So divinely human.

On a piece of paper, perhaps in a stream of consciousness, write down anything and everything that comes to mind. Somewhere in the distorted anythings and everythings, you will find your something.

You will discover your something. Your purpose. Your new direction.

I had forgotten how much I loved to write.

For the last eighteen years, I devoted myself to teaching young people how to become better writers and thinkers, but in the process, of making a very comfortable living, I forgot to write myself.

I found my something.

I’m at the beginning steps of writing something. A hesitant beginning towards something great.

I don’t know where I am going, or what I am really doing, but when I look around, I see painters, musicians, and other writers, doing their thing, every day.

Writing is difficult enough, and to be rewarded and blessed by making a living at it, is infinitely more so.

Part of me is scared and uncertain but I have carefully avoided the trap of everything and anything. I have begun. Begun to do something.

This blog is my something. Quintessential Quotables and Diggin’ Ditches is the next thing.

I write every day.

I reach my word count. I ship it, and awkwardly begin the process of telling the world about it.

My steps are unsure, reserved, cautious, but purposeful.

My hope for you, is that you do something too.

It really doesn’t take much, to do something. To do something every day.

To dream. To plan. To learn. To be and do.

Don’t get overwhelmed with everything and settle for anything.

Become something. Dream something. Dig something. Fall in love with something.

Become something you were meant to be.

Be great one day, but begin today.

 


false humility

 

You’re as humble as they come. Humble to a fault. But at least you’re not like those other people, who are thumbing their way into heaven.

You’re different.

Special.

A realist.

Prone to sudden and unexpected gusts of optimism. Rare indeed, I agree, this optimism of yours, but with all the talk about climate change these days, how could you be any different?

You take great pride in knowing the truth. In understanding the world for what it is and as it happens. Unflavoured. Unseasoned. Just as it is.

You won’t listen to anyone. Because you already know.

You know exactly why you’re so miserable. Unsuccessful. Always tired. Pushing that heavy rock up the mountain.

You learned a long time ago that people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. They’re just lucky. They’ve been given all the breaks. Given all their talents, while you were left wanting.

Unfairly.

Forgotten.

And they those people have armed themselves with a cunning ability to lie and seduce others, in order to get their way. To get what they want and couldn’t possibly deserve.

You’re different.

You won’t stoop to their level. You know you’re worth.

Your false humility won’t let you see the world the way others see it.

You’ve struggled. You’ve overcome much. You paid your dues. Faced adversity head on. Kicked life right in the balls.

You deserve so much more. So much more.

You can’t understand why things haven’t worked out. Why you’re not rich and famous. Why people are constantly blind to your genius and your ingenuity.

This baffles you. Frustrates you. Angers you, if we may be honest.

But through it all, you remain your quiet, hidden. Your best humble self.

And for what?

Is it worth holding on and dying with your illusions?

Is it important to be right?

To refuse to accept change?

You’re so afraid to fail.  You fear your future and you cry yourself to sleep, as you look back and can’t help but regret the past.

If you don’t mind me saying. Your ass is so wound up so tight, that with a decent lump of coal, and in a few unspoken minutes, you’re able to produce the world’s purest diamond.

You have so much potential.

So much knowledge.

You’re endowed with so much inner and outer beauty and grace. So much life and love yet to give, yet you abandoned your dreams long ago, by the side of the road, like a smoked, unwanted, discarded cigarette.

You need some divine arrogance in your life.

You need some pride.

This false sense of humility that you wear like a mask, disguising your unseen pride, will only lead you to an early grave. Long before it’s your time. Unnecessarily. Sadly. You will die of a broken heart.

It’s time that you sing your song. Write your verse. Bake that fresh batch of raisin oatmeal cookies.

Smile.

Forget your humility.

Embrace your humanity.

Fill your mornings with dreams. Abandon yourself at midday to your plans. Spend the night learning and making mistakes, while you ponder how this all fits together.

There is a place in this world for all of us. There is a need for all of us.

We are an insignificant speck of dust, but an imperative grain of a vast desert.

Don’t waste your energy, proving the false reality, you refuse to let go.

It hasn’t served you well.

Stand in arrogance, and dare to be, who you once dreamed to be.

 


the dead of winter

 

The shimmering, colourful lights are slowly beginning to disappear, one house at a time. They are vanishing with deliberate purpose. The long and exhausting period of preparation, followed by a frantic but brief celebration, has come and gone.

And now we turn our gaze to spring. The slow, subtle, unassuming pace of the coming of spring.

But if you get still and quiet for a moment, and look to the left and to the right, it will hit you any minute now.  

Winter is here.

It’s sincerely cold outside, and you realize, perhaps for the first time, that winter has only just begun.

Nature seems to be sleeping, or at least playing possum. Everything that was once vibrant and colourful, beautiful and vivacious, is now pretending to be dead.

And what about you?

What are you doing?

Going for a nap? Hibernating? Finding a nice cave to snuggle next to a grizzly bear, and fight her, along with her cubs, for a warm blanket?

Are you going to wait until it gets warm and sunny? Wait for a more reasonable time to do something? Wait for tomorrow and another tomorrow? Or are you going to get to work on your dreams?

Waiting for tomorrow is a horrific trap. Waiting for the right time is another.

We have to remind ourselves that we are not separate, but very much a part of the whole. A small, fractured piece, yes, but a piece of the infinite whole, regardless.

We are not on the outside, looking in. We are all part of this one marvelous creation, and we get to give back, push back, with gusto. 

We don’t get to pick our life.

Pick and choose the right season. Pick and choose the right mood. Who we are, our challenges and scars, or what we are capable of becoming.

Winter is the perfect time for silent reflection and map making.

The forgotten artisan craft of dreaming.

Planning. Preparing. Practicing. Investing. Risk taking.

Leaping into the unknown possibilities.

Take this time of year and design your map, if for no other reason, than that its dark and cold outside.

It’s icicles on the testicles kind of cold.

Dangling participles on the nipples kind of cold. (Ok. I may have gone too far here, but very few words rhyme with nipples).

It’s cold. It’s winter. And I get that you’ve got a terrible vitamin D deficiency.

But get over yourself already.

The sun rises late and it fades early.

Such is winter.

No matter.

The hours in your day remain the same.

Don’t waste this beautiful moment.

Don’t waste the quiet, self-reflective days of winter. Don’t ignore today, imprison yourself in yesterday, and wait endlessly for tomorrow.

It’s your turn. Your time.

The spring and summer can wait.

Embrace Winter. Make your map.

Where are you in your life?

Why are you here? What brought you here?

Where do you want to go? What do you need to get there?

What do you have? What do you need?

When are you going to get started?

 


this is the end

 

This is the end.

The end of a year of Diggin’ Ditches.

A bitter-sweet end, but a most joyous end, none the less.

I really didn’t see this day coming. When I started writing and sharing my thoughts at the beginning of this year, I was only concerned about not slipping into my old habits, or reverting back to the person I no longer wished to be.

A year has come and gone and I have faithfully and dutifully written every day, or much as I possibly could have imagined. My little, hesitant, and sporadic writing steps, have grown steadier over time, and have now become, most dependable.

I have proven many things to myself. On this quiet, insignificant, and lonely journey.

Writing is a lonely journey. A most frustrating symphony, but a very joyous work.

I have learned that I can wake up at 4:02 am every morning, with a smile on my face, and embrace weight training, like it’s the last piece of cheesecake in my line of sight.

I have learned that it is possible to take away all emotions, suspend hopes, and must all dreams and simply retreat. Retreat to a place where all you do is follow a plan and dig ditches.

I have learned that you just wake up. Tired. Rested. Hopeful. Defeated.

No matter.

You just wake up, because it’s your time. It’s your moment. You make it your moment.

You wake up when its dark. You wake up when everyone else is asleep, and you get to work.

You get to work on your body. You get to work on your mind. You get to work on your soul.

You pick up your imperfect shovel and you heave, one pile of dirt, upon another. You transform your life, from that of a passive dreamer and observer, into a life of a professional dirt slinger.

I am a dirt slinger.

A ditch digger.

A Digger-Slinger?

I am definitely confident. Confident to finally admit that I am a writer.

A good writer?

I am hesitant.

That promotion rests in the hands of time and the bank accounts of my future readers.

This year I have wrestled with writer’s block. With my inner demons and very powerful temptations to quit. I have debated bringing this misfit blog to an end, because after a year or so, so few people have read it and care anything about it. 

I want to thank them.

Thank you.

Thank you for your time. Thank you for your comments and private messages of encouragement throughout the year. It has all meant so much to me.

I cannot tell you how much you mean to me. I will be eternally grateful for your confidence in me. And the life you have help me forge.

I fought the good fight this year. I have run this race, right to the very end.

The end of 2017.

And every finale brings with it seeds of something new.

So, this is only the beginning. The beginning of year two.

A year, that will be as challenging and as surprising as the last, because I don’t imagine the dirt getting any lighter.

This will be a year I cannot see. I year I cannot imagine. A year I am unable to predict or understand, until I have lived it. Until I dig more ditches. Until I work, and sweat, and pray, and overcome, whatever I am meant to overcome.

This is a five-year journey.

This blog will end, but not today.

Ten Minas will end on the last December day of 2021, because as a writer I want to execute the final chapter. I want the credits to roll. I want the story to be complete. I don’t want to just suddenly disappear.

So, this is the end.

The end of proving that an amateur who has never written anything, for the first forty- five years of his life, can wake up early each morning and before he begins his other life, has the inner strength and ability to share his thoughts with the world.

The world as he sees it.

The world as he wants it to be.

Thank you for reading my thoughts, dear friends, and fellow tribe members.

Thank you, and blessings to you, on your own journey.

 

May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand.


dumbbell curls

 

Bodybuilders call them reps.

Repetitions.

They feel and grip a heavy dumbbell, curl it up and down, and repeat. They do this over and over and over again. Set after set. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year.

A lifetime of repetitions. A lifetime of teardowns, and rebuilds.

They embrace every rep even when it’s cold outside or when the outside air is blistering with unbearable heat. They squeeze a little harder and keep going just a little bit further, even when they’re tired. Especially when they’re tired. When they are tempted to quit. When they no longer believe or have any clarity of purpose. When they’ve been hurt by criticism or self-doubt. When they’ve had enough.

They keep going.

They keep repeating.

Set after set. Set after set.

You should keep going too!

Most champions aren’t born as winners. They train themselves to be champions by pushing deeper and further than the person who gives up, only a few strides before they make it.

Champions are made. They are not born.

They don’t save any energy for the swim back.

They are willing to die in the middle of a cold lake, racing towards the uncharted middle, with all their strength, beyond the pain, ignoring and expanding the energy they had reserved for the long swim back.

Reps prepare them for that.

Of course, life is a little less melodramatic than that. Our repetitions are a bit less exaggerated.

We are usually quite capable of swimming back to the shore, but what is hidden here, is the tenacity needed to win the race, at a heavy cost.

Why?

Because there is no coming back.

There is no do over. There is no dress rehearsal. This is our life.

And what are you willing to do?

Can you keep working, even when everyone else has gone? Not so your company can make more fat stacks of money, or that you feel like you’re, oh so close, to a promotion, but because it matters; because you are determined to make a difference. To live a life, you’ve always wanted.

How are you with your reps?

Can you write, sing, or dance, every day? Finish your book or the Sistine Chapel? Stick to your diet? Clean your house? Prepare your taxes? Quit smoking?

Get over yourself?

Curl some dumbbells?

Do what you said you would do.

This is all going to take some reps. A lot of reps.

Reps that will become monotonous and too predictable after a while. Reps that can be easily replaced or effortlessly ignored with far more important things. Especially when it aches so much, right here. Or you find a bit of a sniffle, right there.

You’re not a quitter. Your flaws and mistakes aren’t fatal. Nothing is fatal, until it is final.

Until then, it’s just you.

Surrounded by heavy, cold, and unfeeling dumbbells. Ready to be lifted, pulled, and curled.

Begging for your tenacity to be repeated.

 


be yourself

 

To thine own self be true.

And if you do, then you can’t be false to anyone, least of all, yourself.

And it’s not even a matter of being false. It’s a matter of not having the tenacity to live up to the life you deserve.

Let’s face it, you’re nothing special.

You’re certainly not better than any of the thousands of people you are going to pass by today. The faceless men and women going to and from work with great excitement and furry.

You are just like them.

Filled with identical, but somewhat dormant hopes and dreams, wishes, prayers, groans, moans, but the exact number of hours, each and every day.

Exactly.

To the millisecond.

But you’ll probably object. Object, because pushing back on this point is far easier than becoming the true you.

The anonymous men and women you pass every day, all face the same challenges and struggles. They pay their taxes. They consume food on the run. They grow old, far too young. They dread the darkness of winter and anticipate the warm heat of summer.

This is exactly why there is absolutely nothing special about who you are.

In a sense.

You’re just a tiny part of a comfort obsessed majority. A progressive, pleasure seeking collective. A human race that has traded in the vision of life full of limitless possibilities, for an illusionary life filled with conflict and scarcity.   

If today, you continue to stand firm with your industrial, corporate brethren, then you probably deserve nothing less and nothing more, than what you can win or horde for yourself, in whatever time you’ve got left.

You better go out and gather your nuts.

I hear it’s going to be a bitch of a winter.

But in a deeper sense, and the truth of the matter, everything that you are and everything you were intended to do is special.

You are a special snowflake.

A very, very, beautiful snowflake, and I use that phrase only because it irritates every molecule of my body, and springs forth vomit to the precipice of my lips.

I use it because I need to begin to master my words.

But truly.

Without doubt. Without question.

Without a moments hesitation, you are a special snowflake.

Just accept it, and get on with it.

Be yourself.

The person you should be. The person you were born to be. The person you have to be.

A dying woman, when she is ready to reconcile her life, rarely regrets the things that she had done, because at some point, when you get older, you simply come to terms with all of your silliness and childish ways.

You only regret what you have failed to do.

Failed to do.

To be or not to be.

To live a life that feels right, or to exist in a life built for someone else.

Dreams are dangerous.

They lead you to the edge of an abyss and as Nietzsche so wonderfully wrote, when you summon the courage to stare at the abyss, the abyss always stares back at you.

It cripples you with fear.

Fear of what they will think. Fear of what they will do. Fear of what who you are.

Fear of what it will mean. Fear of the unknown. The undiscovered. Fear of failure. The very thing that will take you back, way back, when we you were a little boy on the playground, with your pants down, unable to hide, from the menacing eyes and pointing fingers of your unforgiving classmates.

They are gone.

You’re not seven anymore.

It’s time to be yourself.

It is your turn.

Time to be.

To be that very special snowflake.