Choice

I'll be the first to admit that some times I judge someone based on their outward appearance: how they look, act, speak, and carry themselves. Any honest person would probably agree with me when I say I think we all do. However, I'll also freely admit that even when I take chances and opportunities, take time and make effort to get to know someone, sometimes...hopefully not many times, I end up deciding how I feel about someone, for good or ill, long before I actually know someone.

Knowing someone is such a relative and subjective qualification. Who is to say how much time you must spend or how long you need to have known someone before you can really "know" them? Is there a written rule? Is it somehow ingrained into everyone's psyche except mine? I don't believe so. It's a Choice. I decide...and because I choose, I think of all the times when I wished for one more day, one more conversation, one more moment in the hopes that I could impart some knowledge of myself to someone else, as if it'd make a difference. It is why I often find myself choosing to spend one more moment, one more conversation, one more day to learn that little bit more about someone because it does make a difference...

I make the choice to open my mind to things I never once was able to fathom - to new ideas, different circumstances, infinite possibilities and objectivity I didn't know before. The choice to accept someone for who they are, aware of where they've been and what they've been through, aware that every step they've tread has led them to the person I see before me. The choice to be sincere and genuine, not only in words, but in actions and in heart...and especially the choice to cherish and love freely and truly, without reservation and bias.

I've noticed in my lifetime that THAT choice, to love without reservation and bias is something that is extremely difficult. It is something my mom would claim isn't possible except with someone who is of your own flesh and blood. We all think we can do it, we all think we actually do it, and yet when the choice is upon us, we must confront the fact that maybe we haven't done it at all...that there's always an expectation we have of the other, a return for the love we've provided, a reservation we keep in case of emergencies, a neglect we would never have toward ourselves or our children, and a selfishness that we wouldn't want to admit existed in the way we love.

It is a difficult thing, to believe it of others and especially of myself, but I've found it within myself, acknowledged it, confronted it, and I know as much as it is possible to know, what my Choice is.

The Light

Everyone speaks of the light at the end of the tunnel. The light that shines from Heaven to guide your soul to where it belongs, to where it shall return...but there is no tunnel. There aren't trumpets blaring, angels singing...there was only light...The light acting as a backdrop for all the memories of my past.

It's strange when you consider how difficult it usually is to remember your childhood, but they were the most vivid memories of all. Memories of my first day of school, walking hand in hand with my grandmother. Of sitting in a concrete pipe with Anza, waiting for my brother to get out of class so we could walk home together. Of swinging He-Man swords and watching fireworks at Disneyland. Of Simon Says, Mother May I, Red Rover, Mario Bros, Four Square and Hand Ball. Of 25 cent "giant" cookies and Popcorn Fridays. Of attending my first class at Bray Elementary. Of making new friends, the best of friends, and of being DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince...of my first kiss, and my first love.

The more recent the memories, the more quickly they passed by, the harder they were to distinguish. Memories of my adolescence and memories that were fresh in my mind became convoluted, all flashing before my eyes in a blur, quickly entering and leaving my field of vision as others lingered at the corners of my sight. So many memories...so much joy and happiness, sadness and heartbreak, so much...Life. You never truly see how much of it you experience, how much it truly means to you as you do when it is about to be taken away...

I thought to myself...this can’t be the end. The thought that it wasn't fair never crossed my mind because I didn't think it was possible...I couldn't fathom it...for this to be the end. I had so much more to live for, so much more to do. I wanted to see my cousins grow up. I wanted to steer them around the potholes I fell in, to prevent the pain that was unavoidable for me, and if I couldn't, to pick them up when they fell down. I wanted to truly love, to be selfless and giving, understanding and considerate, and have Her show me the same regard and concern in return. I wanted to introduce my mom to Her - the woman I’d spend the rest of my life with. I wanted to give her the daughter she never had, to love and care for her as if she were of her own blood. I wanted to teach my children all the beauty this world had to offer, to show them all that was possible, and relish in the lives they chose to lead. I couldn't leave yet, and so I prayed to God...please don't let me go yet, not just yet...

And so I returned as the light slowly receded...given another chance to prove the conviction of my soul. I seldom think on it, but tonight is one of those nights - my feelings swell within me, my thoughts struggle to escape me, my sense of direction, of motivation, of purpose is at a fever-pitch as the mood of my soul waxes and wanes, the shape of my life takes form, and a new chapter in my life begins to unfold. fyh

Possibilities

I find it is the simplest of tasks for me to shape my thoughts and feelings into words, to form them into sentences, to assemble them into stories...it is not the How of it that eludes me, but the Why, or rather, my unrelenting and unflappable assumption that no one is capable of understanding my thoughts or feelings - how could they...how could they know when I, every single day of my life, strive to understand it, cope with it, make sense of it and yet cannot fathom the Why?

Why...It taunts and pokes at me, requiring a response I often refuse to give. I find the "courage" to ignore it, to hold it at bay, and yet I am more afraid of it now than I ever was before. Afraid that it will take from me all that I hold dear, and afraid that even if it doesn't, it has compelled me to push away those I had wished to hold close...so that in the end, regardless of the outcome, I have lost what I wished to find, whether of my own accord or otherwise...tears do not begin to do justice to the feelings I harbor because of it.

My mind yearns for the comfort of detachment. It attempts to soothe my heart and soul with the logic of loneliness, not only to spare me, but to spare others as well, and most importantly, to spare Her the trials and tribulations of loving me. Often, it succeeds in it's subconscious endeavor even as my soul cries out with understanding and my heart sheds its tears of comprehension. Alas, my baser instincts and deep-set desire overpower my mind and all its logic! ...but most importantly, my inability to relinquish the power of Hope, my single-minded vision of its strength suffuses me and I just...can't...give...up.

So in my hypocrisy, I wish on the stars, whisper to the night, and pray to the heavens that some magnanimous soul will brave the treacherous and contemptuous waters of my mind. To convince my mind's ferryman the sincerity and truth of its conviction, to find its way to the island I have chosen to reside on, so purposely far away it would seem I desire nothing but solitude, but in actuality...I don't.

I will not...I cannot...For all the world, for all of me, I refuse to believe in the logic that surrounds me. It *is* possible to find Her. It *is* possible for Her to find me. One day it shall come to pass - that there is more to my life than the routine, and no matter the circumstances of my present, or my future for that matter, She will be able to see past it and to me, to find me, on the island I secretly wished was not...I may not fully believe I deserve it, but I will believe in Her should she say I do. fyh

Serenity in Solitude

In the still silence of the night, I float in an empty dream free of turmoil and complications. A formless essence slowly coalesces into the shape of my body, and I feel the chill of stone as the balls of my feet lightly touch the surface of my world.

I hear the vibrations as I take step after step, moving forward, moving backward, moving side to side and all around. The quiet allows me to hear the natural quickness of my heartbeat and the sound of my own breath. I move slowly, deliberately, confident in the certainty of myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my purpose.

A placidness and calm I've seldom found in the presence of others, but re-discover every time I spend time alone, undisturbed by the world around me, not because I have chosen to run from it, but because I have chosen to stand my ground in front of it. It allows me to be the person that is truly me - stripped of all my titles, all my traits and attributes, all my personality and responsibilities.

Where the silence surrounding me fills me with more meaning and purpose than spoken words ever could. Where eyes gently closed see a million times clearer than ones wide open ever could. Where a finger traced slowly down my chest recalls more memories than pictures ever could. Where a single tear escaping out of the corner of my eye holds more emotion than a thousand laughs and smiles ever could.

It is a state of being, my state of being, that exists deep within. A place I return to at times, to tend and renew, to return to again. A place where silence does not create a void, but where peace fills it. Not where I feel fear in loneliness, but where I feel serenity in solitude.

Chances

I used to think that opportunities and chances were one and the same, and I never felt like there was a difference between one or the other, but over the past several months, I've come to redefine them in my own terms. Opportunities were things I was presented with not because of some lucky coincidence, but because I had worked toward earning it, while chances always have the connotation of being some random lucky draw you just so happened to win.

...something that when you try and wrap a definition around it, seems to be a circumstance that you're unsure about - never knowing it was there, not knowing if anything will come of it, unable to determine whether it is for good or ill, but available to you nonetheless.

These past few months I've seized on many of the chances I've been given, and although they haven't all turned out as I had hoped, I'm glad I took them. I've noticed the older I get, the less they seem to occur, and thus I make the best effort I can...but it brings me to a question.

I see and know how difficult it is to give someone a chance and why it is so, but it still doesn't stop me from asking myself "Why not?"

Why not allow me to prove that I can do a job better than anybody else you will find? Why not trust your instincts instead of what's written on a piece of paper or what's not?

Why not give me a chance to get to know you and vice-versa? Why not trust your heart instead of what's written on your brain or what's not?

...And so I've learned that chances are not something you earn, but something you are given, not because you deserve one and not because it's your due, but because of a feeling, an inkling, that perhaps something good or something great may come of it, and you, and someone is willing to take that risk to see it come to fruition.

I'm not currently in a position to give chances to anybody concerning a job or career, but I try and make a valiant effort to do the best I can in the other aspect - to let go of my reservations, take someone as they are, and take the time to find out who that is...because at the end of the day, when you ask yourself "How do you know who, what, or how someone is?", the answer is...you don't...so I give most everyone a chance to get to know me, and I only hope for the same in return. I often find myself pleasantly surprised, sometimes forever grateful, or at worst, slightly disappointed.

At the end of the day, it's up to each one of us to determine whether we are willing to open ourselves to that risk of disappointment in order to see what rewards we may receive, or if we'd rather be safe and secure in our current state of being. I only hope that I am lucky enough in my near future to receive more undeserved and unqualified, but definitely not unappreciated, chances to prove myself - in life, and in love.

Haunted

It's been so long since I've spared more than a few moments to think of you...You often cross my mind like spots floating in my field of vision, unsure if they are really there, unable to focus on them, yet somehow unable to see anything else.

I force myself to think of you now. To remember you. To experience the moments we shared with one another as if they occurred not years ago, but moments ago...not to recall the feelings of happiness or joy, but the feelings of sadness and disappointment. Not to recall your smile or laugh, but the look of indifference in your eyes and the sound of tolerance in your voice.

I wanted to take from us all the wonderful things you taught me, but you also left me with something I've never taken the time to identify or qualify, and over the past week I've had a constant reminder just how powerful it really is. You were the first person, and thus far the only person, I've ever just been me with...The crazy-stupid, wacky, funny, illogical person I want to be when no one is looking, except I wanted you to see...To know that behind the responsibility and the seriousness, beyond being proper and trying to be a role model, I wanted to be my own person, and could be my own person, with you.

For the life of me...you didn't think it was stupid or dumb. You made me feel safe in being myself. You accepted me for me, and it made me feel that much better about always being that way with you. And yet, in the end, it wasn't safe. In the end, for a reason still unknown to this day, it wasn't okay. Now that I think on it, taking the time to truly examine it, as open as I try to be with everyone I meet, as honest as I try to be, I can only remain so if I feel safe in the knowledge that what is truly me is still hidden and shrouded in obscurity...and although there are times when I lapse into actually revealing a bit of myself I so desperately try to withhold, I take comfort that it is only one piece in an otherwise unclear puzzle.

Over the years, I've come to feel that I'm a fairly open and honest person, choosing to share a lot of my thoughts and feelings with almost anyone, and more with those I have come to grow close to. But I've come to find out...that that really isn't the case at all. It's a paradox - I begin my relationships open and honest, unabashed about how I feel or what I think, and yet the closer I feel to someone, the more they learn about me and I of them, the more cautious and standoffish I become, often pushing people away before they can learn of my fears and desires, my prayers and my hopes.

I never knew it...but I'm haunted by the pain and sadness of truly opening myself up to someone, and I'm afraid to do it again. It's not my *greatest* fear, but it is ever-present in my subconscious. Perhaps one day, much like Casper, there will be a way to set me free of the ghost of you. fyh

The Road

I'm very much a people person. I spend every day introducing myself to new people, interacting and communicating with them on a professional level while I work and a personal level at play. I enjoy learning about people and above all, I enjoy the daily reminder that although we lead different lives, have different goals and dreams, we are all connected through our relationships with those that share our lives.

The better I get to know someone, the more I value their opinion and advice. The more their life impacts mine, the more I want to share my life with them as well. I have very few "friends", but those that I do have share a large portion of my heart and stay in my thoughts often. I rely on them and hope they know they can rely on me as well.

...But with girls, I've always noticed that at one time or another, there is or there will come a time when one of us, perhaps both of us, will come to the realization that if we are such great friends, why couldn't it be possible to have something beyond friendship? Why wouldn't it be better? If you care about one another, like one another through all the flaws and imperfections, strengths and qualities that you have come to discover, couldn't it be...more? Sometimes you start down the road of friendship and are happy to remain. Sometimes you want that road to diverge to something beyond, and sometimes you find yourself wanting to start at the fork and never look back...but I've come to realize that there aren't two roads...

The Road. We all start at the beginning, together, but throughout each journey, we often find one person walking a little faster, wishing the other would hurry to catch up, often wanting to drag them along even if they are content with the distance they've come so far. Sometimes I see the end in sight and the other person doesn't even know there is an end, and sometimes the opposite. Sometimes the only way to remain together is to be content in where we are, even if it's not the end, and sometimes that is not enough - the pain too great, the risk unworthy of the reward, so we lose our way.

...Sometimes you meet someone who you can picture with you at the end, unsure if it is a vision of the future or just a mirage barely visible from the corner of your eye, but whether a dream or reality, you find that however fast you might have to run, however slow you might need to walk, perhaps even stopping to enjoy the landscape of the moment, you are content with that...not because you can see the end in sight, but regardless of the ending, you don't want to take a step ahead or behind that person, only beside them. fyh

Courage

Mark Twain said that "Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear." I've always felt I had some. Maybe not in surplus, or a large abundance, but an adequate amount - enough to get me by. It's hard to be brave all the time. It's hard to show courage in the face of anything and everything. Sometimes...fear just gets the best of us.

Fear doesn't have to be debilitating or insurmountable, but often times it is just below the surface waiting for a chance to creep up on you. For me at least, there is always a small reminder of it in the back of my mind. Most of the time, it doesn't take any sort of conscious effort, bravery or courage to invisibly carry it around inside. My everyday life, family, and friends help me cope with it and move forward. But sometimes, it *does* creep up on me, and *sometimes*, it does cause me pain and sadness, but I think that's just the way of it - I think if there was a way to permanently remove fear from our lives...we'd be different. I think fear is an inherent human emotion that is part of what makes us...us - and without it, we'd be incomplete.

I say that, and yet I'm scared, and I don't wish to be. I wish it'd just go away, but I try to find the courage to hold it at bay and hold myself together - it isn't always easy, and at times, I can't. I used to think that "Courage" was putting on a brave face and showing others that everything is fine, to not worry and smile and laugh, all the while shaking and trembling deep inside...but courage is definitely not that. I need to gather myself, not only to be okay in the face of others, but to be okay within myself, to come to terms with my fears and my worries and realize that as afraid and uneasy as I may be, I need to be able to make peace with them...that's the Courage I am looking for, and that's the Courage I'm hoping to find.