The Line

My life has been filled with valleys and peaks, ups and downs, gradual descents and careful climbs, but the memories that reside on the surface of my mind are of the plateaus with the inexplicable cliffs and the unscalable mountains with nary a handhold. It's in these memories that one wrong step would send me over the edge or a misplaced hand would have me grasping air. It's in these moments I've always struggled to see the hands reaching out to pull me up or hear the voices calling out for me to watch my step.

I've never been an oblivious person, and yet have always disregarded the strength that has grasped my hands and the warnings that have undoubtedly found their way to my ears. I've lost friends and pushed away family in my struggle to find peace within myself first, unwilling and afraid to share the chaos that ultimately resides inside of me...the battle that rages between sadness and joy, apathy and purpose, resignation and hope...The Line that has guided the direction I have traveled for the better part of 13 years.

I've always had a tenuous balance walking this line, ever terrified of slipping into the darkness below with no way to climb back into the light...and with this fear, I've always refused to allow another to walk beside me - not because I'd be unable to support or guide them, and not because I'm afraid they'd disrupt my own focus, but because if I did fall, what would happen if I reached out and was met with emptiness? Worst of all, if I was to fall, what would happen if they fell with me? I never wanted to place that burden on someone, just as I never wanted to accept that responsibility, but these questions were always at the forefront of my mind...

But you never gave credence to my concerns let alone to my questions.  You never let me turn you away, never took my reservation as a slight, and instead you convinced me to take your hand and bring you with me...and instead of unsteadiness, I found stability. Instead of a hindrance, I found relief...but most of all, I found love - not the modern word filled with responsibility and expectation, but the pure ideal unburdened and free of the strings so often attached to it.  A feeling I never believed could be constant and unwavering, but continues to be so...

You answer my questions every single day with the concern in your eyes, the worry in your voice, and the care in your touch, and the line that has not disappeared or become less treacherous has instead become easier to walk, with you. You've brought feeling back to my cold hands, hearing back to my deaf ears, and I'm now able to grasp the strength offered me and heed the warnings given me, without reservation, without shame, without fear. For that, you have my gratitude, but for everything else, you will always have my love.

Apologies

I've never been one for apologies, but please let me explain myself...when I say "apologies", I mean apologies that are coaxed, forced, or otherwise disingenuous. For all intents and purposes, I am not even angry when I hear them, but skip past anger and go straight to disappointment and wonder.

I wonder to myself how anyone could believe that an apology would be accepted AFTER everyone found out the details of an event. Oh, so you are sorry that you got drunk, got pulled over, and were 3x over the legal limit? Would you have been sorry if you didn't get caught? Would you have been sorry if you luckily got home safely and no one had been the wiser? I doubt it.

I understand that sometimes when we say something or do something it can be construed in a way we didn't intend, or affect people we didn't realize it'd affect, and sometimes I'm sorry for the misunderstanding or unintended consequences, but it's been a long time since I've consciously though through the words I'd say or actions I'd perform and been sorry for it afterward.

I'm a big believer in accountability. I'm a big believer in learning, each and every day, and when you combine the two, I'm a big believer in knowing right from wrong, especially as you get older and presumably wiser. So why is it that the older we get, the more apologies we issue and hear, as if we aren't in control of our own words or actions, and that someone else could possibly have been responsible for them instead of ourselves?

Bottom line is: If you aren't sorry the moment you do it or say it, or even better, you choose not to do it because you know you'd be sorry afterward, then you aren't sorry at all.

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.