I Have Nothing To Say

There is listening to be done. There are thoughts to be made. Thoughts to be measured. Thoughts to be ignored. There’s a lot of walking and pondering.

Who am I becoming?

These ol’ thoughts of mine, I’m gonna let them shine. Light my path with imagination. But,I don’t want to be heard. There is time for that tomorrow. And if tomorrow never comes, I will have loved the process of building skyscrapers of thoughts. Where does action begin? In a thought.

I’m searching for the right thoughts. The moving thoughts. The amazing thoughts. And here’s the thing: I may not produce one such thought. It’s okay. It’s the hunger for a thought that will feed me.

Rambling thoughts. That’s a great place to start.

I Have Nothing To Say

Wait not for the memories.

The biggest lie you can tell yourself is that you have time. You have less time than you think. It’s a deadly game waiting for the right time. Time is time. There is nothing right or wrong about it.

Why do we wait. Wait, why do I wait? Because I lie to myself as well. I think I have time. The more time I waste the more regrets I pile up.

What will I think about when on my death bed? I know I won’t think about my job. Man, I wish I could write one more line of code are words I will never say. Heck, I don’t say them now! So what am I doing?

What are we all doing? Existing. I keep hiding behind “we.”  What am I doing? That’s the right question. Don’t let your life pass you by wrote Sarah McLaughlin. It’s all green lights around here. Life passing. Life moving.

I have talked plenty about having a map taking you in the direction of your dreams. Honestly, I’m afraid where my dreams will take me. But that’s because I’m letting my dreams dictate. I haven’t led myself. I’m waiting on my dreams instead instructing my dreams.

All these days and they are still going by like water through my hands. I can’t hold on to them.

Please wake up. It is later than you think. You will look into your memories closet and say I have nothing to remember. Don’t fail yourself. Uncertainty is reality. After all the planning, uncertainty is all that is left.

Why be afraid of adventure?

Wait not for the memories.

People are people.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about me not liking people; that I need to commit to community. But I haven’t figured out why I don’t like people. Better yet, why I claim to not like people.

I read something that caught my attention. It spoke to me. It may provide a light to the hampster in the wheel inside my head. 

In part it read 

“… Fearing people is a dangerous trap …”

One thing caught my attention: Aren’t all traps dangerous? But that’s not what’s causing me to go deeper in my assumption that I don’t like people; that love my silence more than your company.

Do I fear people? Am I operating under a survival mechanism? If I don’t hangout with people, they won’t hurt me? Is that what I’m doing. Am I preventing fear by eliminating a major source of it?

I trust people more than myself. I make “people” better than me. In reality, no one is better than me and I’m not better than anyone else. That’s all good in my head. But that’s missing from my heart. I don’t believe that. But that lack of belief is costing me.

What scar do I have that I can’t seem to locate?  Who / what caused the wound? Have I placed my trust in someone to then betray it? So now I don’t trust anyone?

But am I misplacing my trust? People hurt people. People heal people. But trusting people is foolish. I can’t make people my idols. I can’t make their affection my life currency. My riches must come from elsewhere.

I’m not finished with this thought. But it’s a great place to start. Progress.

People are people.

I don’t have the heart.

I’m convicted again how little curiousity I have for others. I have no idea how to overcome this dilemma. Well, I do know.

I have to be curious about people. There is no pill for this disease. It’s just pure action. I must actually engage another human. I need to have a heart for others where there has been an abyss previously. I don’t recent people, I just like my silence better.

But it has gotten me nowhere. This has been no way to life. There is nothing but death in my quiet. I’m not saying I will now turn into someone who has people at my house as if it is a 24 hour diner. But I have to let go of my completely empty glass of solitude and let it shatter.

I’m broken. Community is my glue. I knew this intellectually. I don’t know this emotionally. I see community like a work of art – made for admiration. But I’m not artist. Or so I say.

I don’t need to be the Picasso of socialliness (not a word, I know). Drawing stick figures would be a major accomplishment. I just want so much, so fast. I need to give myself permission to start small.

Love others. Where do I begin?

I don’t have the heart.

The definition of you.

Define yourself for the things no one can take away from you. How others define you is more about them others than it is about you. When someone else defines you and that definition does not align with your definition, it’s up to you to prove that other person right or wrong.

You must impress yourself. You must go to the judge that judges you say see what I did?  And that judge must go Dang! I didn’t know you had that in you! Great job!

Ever look in the mirror as you are well on your way to an excersice routine and you see the small changes happening to you? The kind of changes no one else will notice? But you can’t wait until you begin to be complemented on your looks? That’s what defining you looks like.

You see the greatness inside of you. You are on your chosen path and you know it is taking you to the right place. It may seem to others you don’t know where you are going. But you know. And at this point people will tell you to pick another direction. But it is about them. They don’t know where you’re going. Or they would be scared to go in that direction if they had to make that choice.

But you put in the hard work of picking your path. You picked your map. And that is the point. It is your map. Now the question do you trust it enough to take you where you want to go. And there’s the battle.

Others want you to go their way. You say my way is better. Who wins? Maybe both. Maybe nine. Maybe them. Maybe you. The answer is totally up to you.

The definition of you.

Does anyone remember laughter?

As I write this, it is Spring. The new beginning season. Ants begin their work. People begin their cleaning. It is supposed to be the god part of the rhythm of life.

Today, for me, feels like winter. It’s a cold season. It’s an stay inside season. It’s a darker season. It is filled with anticipation as Spring is just around the corner.

There are times when the corner doesn’t come. Constantly living in anticipation. It’s gonna get better. It’s gonna get better. The calendar will change. Things will begin to warm up.

Sometimes Winters lasts longer than the calendar. Sometimes we end the Winter of our lives ourselves. We wait in vain for the calendar to switch. But it won’t switch on its own.

Winter is a survival season. It is an endurance season. Your reserves are deplated. One is to hang on hoping there’s enough to survive.

I was recalling how little I’ve laughed lately. It doesn’t come as often as it did. Then I remembered life comes in seasons. I must not be in a season of laughter.

I search for it. When looking for something on Netflix, I search for comedies. I want to laugh. I want belly laughter. I miss it. But I realize it is not the time. And that’s okay.

But I long for my Spring. It will come. It will come on its own or I will turn the page on my calendar. It has to come. Bring on the ha-ha’s.

Does anyone remember laughter?

What a fool believes.

Listen to the fool without the ability to make friends. The one who much rather enjoy his own company than be curious about others. The fool then cannot be disappointed in solitude. Silence is his best friend.

This fool thinks highly of himself. I’m a good person he says. I do no harm he lullabies himself to sleep. The fool is surrounded by darkness along with silence. His foolish mirror reflects nothing, yet he sees greatness.

The fool celebrates his small accomplishments. He doesn’t believe he can achieve the big ideas others have. I’m happy for them he says. Inside he is crushed. But his satisfaction keeps him safe.

The fool’s world is worry free and story-free. He is not in pursuit of adventure. He is not the hero. He does not need rescuing. He is safe. He is protected. His limitations are enough. The fool is okay with himself.

Everyone knows the fool. They see his potential. They know he can fly. But the fool won’t jump. What if I get hurt? Don’t you know that you won’t they reply. The fool cannot hear.

The fool is fine in his world. The fool wants no part of the real world. There’s danger in the real world. But there is no story. That’s ok says the fool.

I’ve known this fool all my life. I have called this fool friend. He has taken from me. And all he cares is what he can receive. I’ve gained nothing from him. It is time to let him go. I’m better than my foolishness. I have better things to say, better things to do.

But will I truly let him go? It’s a strange world outthere. Comfort versus unknown. Breathe. You can do this.

I can?

What a fool believes.