I hate Christmas


I hate Christmas.


I said it.

I hate the very idea of decorating our homes, with bright, shimmering lights, in the middle of Fall. Yes, Fall.

Feel free to hate me at the very core of my ignorance but I am just not ready to inundate my senses with all these magical grand illusions of twinkling lights and enchanted ferries.

I hate Christmas.

I hate many things, but I definitely hate Christmas.

I hate the fact that everything is on sale. That black Friday is upon us. That everyone is rushing around trying to buy something, anything. It seems like everyone is planning their Christmas or March Break vacations, Christmas dinners, or how to not make an ass of themselves at the office Christmas party. At least not this year. Or at least not anymore.

But for me the world got really dark. 

For me, I entered into an all-consuming period of loneliness.

I am not sure what I did to deserve becoming its lovely host, each and every year since I was a small child, but I have resigned myself not to resist anymore. Darkness has become my lovely friend.

These days, the sun rises late, and it sets far too early. The few moments of sunshine that are left, I ignore, by working in an ugly portable, away from what matters, pretending that I know something.

Please forgive me if I don’t get overly excited over tinsel and stockings. Forgive me if I don’t get overly excited to rush around, fighting for a parking spot of a crowded mall, while trying to imagine what to buy, and what joy it will be when I pay it off, a year from now, or at some point, I’m sure. I’m so grateful to the credit companies for their generosity and extended credit at this, my greatest time of need.

I’m lonely and I strangely alienated. I’m a Scrooge, devoid of all magical Holiday Spirit. Yes, I am a cancer to your glee and generosity. In November. Yes, November.  

They say that a child ends up spending less than fifteen minutes playing with their Christmas present before they get bored and look to do something else.

Fifteen minutes.

Is it worth it.

I don’t really hate Christmas.

I like it.

I just wish we were nicer to each other, especially through the dark days of November and December. I wish we didn’t pretend to care when we don’t. That we didn’t make promises, we don’t intend to keep. I wish we were a little more human. A little more lonely.

I wish we were more in touch with our loneliness.

Being lonely is not easy, but I no longer run away from its embrace.

I am lucky that I have never looked for shelter with drugs or alcohol. I don’t distract myself with binge watching television shows or get engrossed with the latest gossip on the internet. I struggle with overeating at times, that’s for sure. Food is my drug of choice. My dirty habit, but even here, I’ve managed to find a teeter totter type of balance of sorts.

We are lonely people.

Why do we treat our loneliness as a morbid debilitating disease?

Why are we not kinder to ourselves?

We are just longing for something. Searching for something. We want to know we are not alone.

At this time of year, I miss my mom and dad the most. I wonder when it will be my turn, and if I will be missed at all. I look back and smile at the silly things I’ve done and the mistakes I’ve made. I glance back at all the dreams that are still unfulfilled and most of all I long to live the rest of my days with a deeper purpose, with more meaning.

There is no reason to hate Christmas.

There is no reason to hate loneliness either.

As long as you don’t face it down alone.


green grass and gas


Sometimes the grass looks a bit lusher and has a somewhat stronger hint of green, but it is always hiding on the other side.

It doesn’t matter where we are, where we go, or where we look; someone else, something else, somewhere else, seems so much better as a place to happen.

This morning I needed some gas. 

The price at the pump at my local gas station, conveniently located right outside the gym, read 115.9 cents per liter.  I have lived here for a very long time now, and I know, without question, I know, that gas prices are always cheaper here.

I looked at the gas light. 

I looked at the price. 

I thought to myself, what if today, what if I’m lucky, what if the price of gas was actually cheaper there than it is here.  I have enough fuel to get there.  I’m going to take a chance.  I am going wait and absorbed in looking at the seductive hint of lusher pastures somewhere else.

As I sit here I can see the gas pump price and its neon glow.  The price of gas is 124.9 cents per liter.  What makes me laugh though, is that, not only will I pay .09 cents more, because I deemed to know better, but because I drove, I actually need a little more gas.  Wasting it, in pursuit of a few cents of savings.

I know better, but I can’t help to laugh at myself.

I am sharing this somewhat insignificant piece of Monday trivia with you, not because I wish to complain about price of fuel, or the refining costs, or the disproportionate taxes attached to every single liter.  My intention is simple. 

You and I look for cheaper gas all the time.

When we want to call our friend on his birthday, we somehow hesitate, or get too busy.  A few days later we can’t call, because we would be embarrassed if he asked why we didn’t call him on his birthday, in the first play.  So, we play a little game, and wait for some time to go by.  We create a bit of distance, so we can save face, so we can finally call.  So, we can finally do what we should have done.  Should have done, when we should have done it.

How dreadfully complicated.

While we wait, we also often forget.  We’re not mean, we’re just a touch weak. 

Life trucks on.  New tasks present themselves.  Life gets complicated and time continues to lose those tiny little grains of sand, which we imagine we can find later.

You may do the same with your art or music.  You sit down to write a song, and by next week you are writing another, and another song.  Pretty soon, all you have, are pieces of melodies and half written ideas, that lead you back to absolutely nowhere. 

That’s what you get when you need gas but seek greener grass.

I can give you countless examples, about writing, about the perfect moment to take your wife or boyfriend on a date, to spend time with your kids, to quit your job, to retire, to see a doctor, to lose weight, to stop eating after midnight, to quit smoking, to quit drinking…

On and on it goes.

We perpetually wait for greener grass.  We get distracted by greener grass.  We spend our time looking and hoping to find a lush green field to rest out mind.

But in the end, we end up lowering our heads, cracking our wallets, and paying a little more.

We end up paying with our lives.

I am about to finish up here, and head to the gas pump.  I will pay extra.  I will consider it a tip.  An investment.  A lesson to look and find those parts of my life that require more work, more digging, and a little less navel gazing.

Do what needs to be done today.

Take comfort in staying the course.

Sometimes the best square of dirt, is the one you don’t move away from.


hiding in plain sight


When it comes to having dreams, we always raise our hands in excitement.  When it comes time to buying the shovel and spade, and doing the work, the numbers noticeably dwindle.  When it’s time to finish what we started, and be finally done with our labour, the numbers become even more anemic.  Finally, when it’s time to gift the world with what you’ve made, you will find yourself very much alone.

You will begin to doubt, get anxious, and become overwhelmed with fear. 

I am still trying to figure out what it is about our human nature that prevents us from sharing who we are.  What it is that distracts us and convinces us that we are not good enough.

We don’t think of ourselves as unworthy impostors, until we have something we can share. 

We begin to imagine we will die a slow and painful death of shame and indignation and so we pull back in fear, because everyone will once again know and see our very frail limitations. 

The good life, the happy life, is meant for someone else.  The lives of Saints, are a painful reminder that success is not found on a road less travelled.  It is nothing more than an abandoned dead end. 

This is a lie we tell ourselves.

It is a truly strange because when toss the first shovel full of dirt over our shoulder, the glory and sense of accomplishment, is all we envision and sense. 

We spend time imagining what it will feel like when we were finished.  We impress our minds with how meaningful and beautiful it will all be when we finish.  How glorious, to share who we are, and what we have made, with perfect strangers.  Strangers no more.  Brothers and sisters connected in a beautiful spirit of human experience.

But we don’t ship.  We hide.  We hide from ourselves and we hide from each other.

We hide in plain sight.

When we are close, we nit-pick. 

We find fault. 

We notice errors in the smallest of things, the insignificant, magnifying the mistakes no one sees or even cares about.  We seek the council of people who we know deep down, will find something wrong with what we have made.  We thrash about looking and embracing every sensible opinion that convinces us that what we really need, is just one more day, another week, another month, and perhaps another whole year. 

You need to get it right, to polish it up; just a little bit more.  Just a tiny bit.  Almost there.  Have faint, it’s almost time.  A crank here. A little adjustment.  A little tug.  The slightest pull.

And so, you hide.

We have hidden who we are for years.  Decades. 

We run away from what we want, who we are, and what we dream about.

It’s safer not to make a ruckus. To not raise your voice.  To sit down.  To timidly, take it.  To politely wait your turn.

But your turn never comes. 

You are almost there, but never there.

You hate yourself for not speaking up and become tired and weary for spending your entire life, sitting back and taking it.

When is it going to be your turn?

When will you stand up and have people take notice?

It won’t be easy.  The criticism will certainly fly.  The gossip will wage a war against your human dignity.  Eyebrows will be raised in indignation.  Your work will be scrutinized.  It will be misunderstood.  Dissected.  Laughed at.  Jeered.  Embraced?

Could there be a chance someone will find value with what you have made?

Think of the possibilities.

You might make someone laugh.  Bring a smile to their tired face.  Give them an opportunity to cry.  Afford them permission to be who they are.  The courage to no longer pretend who they don’t want to be.  You might give them a voice, or dispel their loneliness. 

You might give them a moment of peace.  A chance to reflect.  An opportunity to embrace their broken humanity.

You might inspire them. 

Anger them. 

You might make them think and feel.

You might make a ruckus!

But not, if you remain timid, and hide in plain sight.

Nothing matters.  Nothing grows.  Nothing changes with silence and fear.

Find your voice. 

Find the courage.

Find a way to share.


the beginning of the end


I have been searching my soul this week, wondering where all this is going. 

By the end of this December, which is quickly approaching, I intend to organize and edit everything I have written so far, and turn it into a book.

I believe Diggin’ Ditches is definitely a working title.

I am not sure who will read the book.  I have many doubts, questions and reluctant thoughts on the matter.  I am not crippled by fear, but definitely a little unhinged, wondering if anyone will care or buy the book.

I chase those thoughts far from my consciousness.  I instruct myself to keep digging and not to spend too much time dwelling on the possibility of being a failed author, on my very first try.

It might be a little easier now, instead of a few months from now, when I will need to find the funds and leap forward.

A very dear friend proposed the idea for book, and I am extremely grateful.  It has given me a renewed sense of purpose and a goal I didn’t have before.

Writing every single day is not easy. 

I am not interested in easy.  I am in this thing for the challenge and a sense of meaning.

I have decided to end this blog.

Not yet.  I’m not done.  I am not ready to move on to other things, but for the first time since I started I can see the end coming.

I am giving myself four more years.

It is so easy to write down, but the end of 2021 is a lifetime away.

In either case, I now know the end.

When I am done, I will have five volumes of meaningful musings, and one volume of quotables.  Enough to create a daily reader, which will guide you through an entire year.  I might throw in an extra few entries to compensate for a few leap years.  An appendix of sorts.

Why am I thinking out loud and why does this have to end?

I am sharing this today because I don’t want all of this to just vanish one day.  I don’t want those of you who read on a regular basis to wake up and never hear from me again. 

I have visited many wonderful blogs, and it saddens me, when I see their last entry read 2012, 2015, or 2009.  They burn bright and burn out.  They are not heard from again.  I am sad when I find yet another forgotten graveyard of beautiful writing

Today I have a purpose.  It will end my terms.  All I must do now, is just the hard work of sticking to it and never losing grip.  Never losing faith or hope, that despite not knowing where I am going, I am helping in making ripples somewhere, along the way.

Thank you for reading.

I don’t think I would write as often otherwise.

Every clown with a hat on the dirty street, needs an audience what is willing to stop and stare.

Thanks for staring.

I hope your lives have been enriched for having been here.


infinite possibilities


I have been dreaming in my sleep lately, which is quite unusual. 

It’s unusual because I rarely dream.  It takes my unconscious directors, months, if not years, between each screening of her carefully crafted spindles of film.

I know I dream.  We all dream. 

I just have no memories of anything.  I wake up from the night before without a trace or the smallest hint of anything, everything.

I’m not sure what that says about my state of health, but I guess that a good night might be somehow good for me. Despite the health benefits, a part of me does feel a little left out.  Left out from the common human experience, of sharing some unbelievable tales and terrifying nightmares.

My recent dreams are too personal to share.  My subconscious mind is living out some things I need to focus on.  I don’t know what any of it means, but I’m glad to be involved in the conversation.

I sometimes wish my mom and dad would come and visit me in my dreams.  I sometimes think they do.  It would be lovely to see them again.  To embrace each other.  To remember.

We are lucky because our dreams offer us a world of infinite possibilities.

We have a chance to work out our anger and frustration, or perhaps feel the joy of something that hasn’t happened yet.  The visions are vivid.  They are real.  We should definitely pay more attention to them.

And why can’t our lives be as vivid?

Why can’t our living dreams be as colourful as our slumbering tales?

Aren’t they scripted, directed, and produced by the same mind?

One takes about ten minutes to play out and feels like a lifetime.  The other sometimes takes ten or twenty years, and feels like a brief breath of time.

Anything can happen when we are sleep.

We should probably awaken to the reality that anything can happen in our wakefulness too.

But it can only happen through action and engagement.  Our lives can only take shape by meaningful work and by sharing our work with the world. 

I think it is time to stop hiding.

Time to stop telling ourselves the false story that we can’t, that we need more education, more time, or more or less of everything.

So, stop hiding.

Start dreaming.

Dream out loud, because the nightmares of others, or perhaps your own, may not become as loud and terrifying if you struggle against remaining silent and numb.

So, share something.

Dream out loud.

Dream often.


armed with a coffee


Life seems like a long journey until it isn’t.

It is infinite, until it just suddenly ends. 

There are no reminders.  No sticky notes.

There is no final phone call.  Perhaps no last goodbye.

Just the end.

It doesn’t really matter how long you’ve been on your journey.  Nor does it really matter how much you’ve laughed or cried along the way.  It seems insignificant how often you’ve been scared, anxious, or worried.  In the final calculation it doesn’t matter, because we will all face the same curtain call. 

And it is a curtain call.  The end of an act.  But it is not a punishment or a curse.

But what do I know?

I am very incapable and insecure about the subject of death.  I haven’t figured it out.  Far from it.  It scares the living shit out of me sometimes. The pun is intentional.

Over the years, I continue to humbly listen and watch for wise words and examples, in the hopes of learning something.  Something that will help me figure out what I am doing here, why I matter, and why it is preordained that I must leave one day. 

One day. 

It’s a long journey. 

We live it one step at a time.  One year at a time.  

Until the end.

In an effort to repeat myself, I don’t have many answers.  I don’t even have a dozen.  But I do have a myriad of very complex questions.  Questions which generally fall on deaf ears as very few every want to hear or discuss them. 

I am therefore subjected to gathering insights on my own, and you probably share a similar fate.

I am just trying to get at the truth.  It is not easy.  It is very elusive.  It is a story that speaks in silence and through the mystery of earthly events.  It sings in art.  It whispers through music. 

And I long to find some clues to this somewhat unidentifiable, but a very complex universal mystery, that troubles all of us. 

We are on a very long journey, with very limited time.

So, I remind myself, as the people I love leave me, that I don’t have too much time.

So why do I sometimes get wrapped up in so many things that drive us from each other?  Why are you and I not conscious of the suffering humanity we find everywhere?  Why are we unhappy?  Fearful?  Anxious?  Cancerous?  Materialistic and fat?

Why do we shit on freedom, disrespect the value of suffering, and ignore human dignity? 

Why do we sometimes hate ourselves?  Why do we hate each other?

Why don’t we see the connections in all things?  The infinite possibilities in everything that we do.  And destroy or make fun of those who try.

Every decision we make.  Every breath we take.  Every struggle.  Every emotional discharge.  Indeed, every single movement and every little thought, leads all of us to a blessed moment of infinite possibilities.

A moment we get to frame.  A moment we get to embrace or abandon.

Please forgive my rambling thoughts about our temporal mortality, on this very temporal Friday morning.

Sometimes, they are all I have.  But in a matter of mere minutes, the sun will rise again.  The responsibilities of the day will burden me yet again with many new thoughts and challenges.

In the meantime, though.  I will sit here, alone, armed with a cup of coffee, thinking of all the wonderful people I have been blessed to know.  I will think of all the magnificent people I can reach out to at this very moment. 

I will end my morning imagining the person I am going to become.


the success muscle


Bodybuilding is a fascinating sport.

It is absolutely spellbinding, the way your body responds to sweaty physical training.  It is simply incredible the way your muscles absorb and handle hard work.  The way your body decides how and when to recover.

Truth be told, there is nothing new in bodybuilding and the principals building muscle are not complicated.  They are very simple. 

You pick up a heavy object.  You put it down. 

You pick it up.  You put it down. 

You hang on long enough to repeat that motion several times, until your muscles grow wobbly and tired. 

When you are finished, you need to feed your body good protein and fulfill all the other nutritional needs.  Give the muscle a lot of rest.  Wait and repeat the exercise twice a week.  With enough time, over a period of months and years, your muscles will grow. 

Your body will noticeably change.

Simple.  Yet, without one insight, it becomes complicated. 

Bodybuilding takes a lot of time and long term commitment.  A lot of it.  But even with a strong sense of will, tenacity, and pure determination, very little happens, unless you learn to push through the pain. 

Nothing ever happens until you learn to drive through the signals of pain, and overcome your inclination to quit.

Nothing short of everything will be enough.

You see, you are renting a very smart machine.  Your human body would rather not go through the experience of tearing itself down, so it has to build itself back up. 

Who does?

Which is why we search out comfort, stability, and are obedient to conform.

Weight training or happiness for that matter, takes a lot work.  They take some time.

Your brain will try to dissuade you and convince you to quit.  It shows you grand vision of immediate joy and rest if you do.  Why?  Because if things remain the same, if you don’t push boundaries, there is nothing to do.  Nothing to repair.  Nothing to build.

High fives all around.

We know without any doubt that our biceps or glutes grow when the individual muscle fibers in our muscles are torn, and they are tough.  They don’t tare easy. 

You need a whole lotta weight.  A whole lotta reps.  A whole lotta love, and then, in that very last movement, when you’ve fought through the pain and mental static to stop, you finally rip them, and you leave your body no other choice but to recreate itself.  To build something better.

A journalist once asked Muhammad Ali how many sit ups he did to stay in such great shape.  He replied that he didn’t know.  He doesn’t start counting, until it starts hurting.

So, learn your lesson and don’t start counting, until it starts hurting.

Our success, our happiness, our dreams, and our muscle work on the same principals.

Too many times, we quit too soon.  We quit too often. 

We stop several meters before we should.  We run a good race.  We work hard, but we never finish.  We take the wrong advice at the wrong moment from ourselves.  We must hold fast and remember to only start counting, when it starts hurting.

We must tear our success fibers.  We must tire out our dreams.

These little vignettes of thought that I write every morning, here at tenminas.ca are new to me.

I have no idea where this is going.  I have no idea what it all means.  I do trust somehow, that what I am trying to do here will last, that deep down, I am building something.  I have committed myself to the task of being a professional writer.  My job is to write.  I write every day, and hope that in time my mind will rebuild itself into something I cannot see.  Into something I could have never imagined.

So, get back to working hard.

Or, don’t ever stop, when you get tired.

Don’t tear yourself down.  Stop saying mean things about yourself.

Focus instead on your success muscle. 

Work it.  Grind it out. 

Keep digging.

Until you’ve arrived on the other side.


what can I do?


You have asked yourself what you can do many times.

Hundreds.  Thousands.  Millions of times.

And you’ve been quick to respond to what you can do?

You’re too old.  Unattractive.  Broken.  You have a large appetite and are genetically cursed with big bones.  You have made far too many unforgivable mistakes.  They will never forgive you.  They will never forget. 

This is too silly.  Too expensive.  Takes too long.  Too complicated.  Too Hard.  Too much.  Too late.  Not enough.

You have most certainly told yourself throughout your life where to go and what you can’t do.

What you can’t.


But what can you?


I can’t.

Saying you can’t is only going to spread the dirt of dejection and misery .

There is a reason why you find yourself here and have asked yourself what you can do.  Something in your life has brought you to this moment.  You are either unhappy or unsatisfied.  You are definitely in the wrong place, or haven’t travelled through enough, to get to where you want to be.

But it doesn’t matter how you got here.  We all get here.  What matters is what you going to go next?

So let’s rephrase the question.

What can you do?


Meaning, what power do you have to act.  What tenacity will you employ to be and do.  The ability is right here, always here, waiting to be unharnessed and mastered.

You can do many things if genuinely care.

For starters, you can quit a lot of things that have you stuck, knee deep, in the mud.  Habits and people.  Routines and expectations, that lead you back to the same place, with the same existential frustrations.

You should definitely quit complaining, gossiping, making fun of yourself, not being able to handle a genuine compliment, and being overdramatic.  You should most certainly quit lying to yourself, that you are not good enough.  That the deck is stacked against you.

Because you can.

You can do lots of things.

You can take charge of your life and accept that everything you do has purpose.  No, you don’t control the universe.  You don’t control people or events, but you do control the way you frame your thoughts around everything.  You an undeniable freedom in the way you accept or reject the things you cannot change. 

When you contemplate your life, do you relive all you pain and suffering?  Do you get crippled by your many failures and wasted opportunities?  Or do you embrace the present moment, forgive yourself, and see the future possibilities?

It’s not what you have, but what you give, that matters.

It’s not what you’ve been through, but how you apply it.

Not what you’re born with, but who you gather by your side.

What can you do?


Everything, provided you focus on the possibilities.

Believing you are ugly, unredeemable, unteachable, unlovable, and unimportant, is a seductive lie.  Stop digging yourself an early grave.  Accept that it’s not over.

Don’t look at where you are or where you have been, and gaze instead at what you can do.  No matter how small.  How insignificant.  No matter how improbable.

Do it.

And ask yourself one more question.

What can I do next?


fake news


I am absolutely in love with the very recently coined phrase ‘fake news’.

It’s just stunningly perfect and incomprehensibly, brings so much joy to my life.

If you ever mind yourself stuck in a conversation you can’t get out of, just take a deep dramatic pause and gently exclaim that in the final analysis, all of this is nothing more than fake news.



News is identified as information that is newly received or somehow noteworthy, especially if it concerns recent or important events. 

Fake simply means that the news is counterfeit.  It is not genuine.  It is false.

But if that is the case, what are we left with?

Aren’t all stories selected by a biased editor? 

Don’t we read some newspapers, precisely because they lean to the left, and some because they lean to the right?  Don’t we read them because we want to remain the same?

I don’t read newspapers or watch CNN anymore.  Not because I stopped caring for our planet, and my neighbour, but because it has made me feel like I am a child in an abusive relationship.  There is so much yelling from both sides, that it is too much for a sensitive child to handle.  Too much before they shut down, and tune out.

I have shut down.

I am still connected. 

I visit the odd newspaper occasionally, to follow up on an interest story here and there, but for the most part, I have grown up.  I have moved out of the house.  I am on my own, away from the chaos and the screaming.

It’s all bitching and complaining, on most occasions.

Sometimes it’s more than bitching and complaining, and it becomes bitching and complaining about bitching and complaining.  A seductive and infinite circle.

Where is the good in humanity to be found?  Where are the stories that inspire human kindness?  Where is the human dignity?  The human spirit?  Where is the essence that makes us love one another and embrace peace and prosperity?

Most importantly, why do we adopt fake news as the guiding principle in our own life?

We gather to gossip and shove rusty knives into each other’s backs.  We look down at our feet when we walk.  We waste time.  We groan and moan.  We make eye contact with one another on occasion, but with a suspicious mind.  We are polite to a fault, and corrupt to the core.

You have become exactly who you told yourself you would be.

You repeat over and over, the life imagined is good enough for you to live.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

If you see misery and pain, you’ll behold more of it.  If you embrace failure and disappointment, you will never let go.  You will live your life, experiencing more of the same.  Unless you change.

Why shouldn’t you?  If you don’t take stock of the good news stories of your life, how are you ever going to become them and live them out.

Being positive is important.  Not because the young lady at the drive through window would really appreciate an attitude adjustment as she serves you a coffee this morning, but because there is nothing worse than wasted talent. 

There is nothing sadder than living an unfulfilled and unhappy life.

So, ignore the fake news.  Ignore the real news too.

Ignore the terrible things people say about you.

Ignore the terrible things you say about yourself.

Stop gossiping about other people.

Look for the good.  Be kind.

Look for the appearance of the human spirit that connects all of us.  See it.  Hear it.  Point it out when you do, and celebrate it as often as you can. 

Try to look for human dignity in the forgotten ones, the abandoned, and the loathsome.

It’s not easy.

But bring people the news.

Bring them good news.


rediscover your short cut


We are always looking for a better way to get where we want to go.

When things get difficult and our days become particularly burdensome, we begin to grow tired and look for short cuts.  We look for a quick way out.

We look for a path that will get us where we want to go faster.  We want to be right there, right now.  We second guess ourselves, and begin to imagine that we how overlooked or missed something.  We grow ever so tired of waiting, of digging, of planning, of collaborating, of making mistakes, making grave mistakes, of connecting, of changing, of doing things over  and over again.

The good news is, that there is short cut.

There is a fast way of getting there.  But it is not faster and shorter because there of some hidden widget or insight, but simply because starting over, or not continuing with what you are doing, will take you far longer to get you there. 

There is simply no substitute for the great work you are already doing. There is no easier way to dig your ditches.

Occasionally, you need to adjust your plan.  You need to improve your technique and skill set.  But you need to come to terms with living with that uncomfortable feeling of rolling with inevitable change and struggle. 

You need to keep a positive attitude.  You must hold on to your faith and embrace hope.  You need tenacity, fortitude, and patience.  You need all of it if you are to become who you dream of.  If you are to become the person the world has never known before.

The shortest way out is always through.

You may, on occasion, be distracted by a new report of a person who has experience a sudden rise to fame.  Has discovered an amazing invention.  Has recorded a revolutionary new track that suddenly skyrockets up the charts, and steals countless awards.  A new book, a new medicine, or a new way of doing the same thing, upside down.

You are in real danger of getting distracted by the success of your peers, who seem to have discovered something you are missing.  Something that you long for, and are unable to find on your own.  They are lucky somehow.  They seem to have learnt something.  Something that has made their life a little fuller, and their business richer.

When you begin to look for the quick way out, remember that the road you’re on, leads to great things.  It is a meaningful and noble road.  It is a road you chose for a reason.

To leave it now, would only mean more time, and an even longer journey.

It is definitely not a short cut.

Short cuts always end unexpectedly and quickly.  They may not be dead ends, but they don’t provide any sustainable framework for what to do next.  They only help you become famous.  Rich.  Short cuts may garner you, millions and millions of followers.  But now what?

Do you have a plan for your new-found fame?  Do you have a meaningful plan for your new false friends and your money?  Do you have what it takes to actually feed the millions of followers you decided to invite over for dinner?

Take a deep breath and take the shortcut you’re on.

Brace your back, wipe your brow, and keep digging.

The shortest way out is through.

The shortcut you seek, is the long walk you’ve already begun months, if not year ago.

Good things are coming. 

Dreams do come true.

Just put one foot, in front of the other.