Day 338: Fractured Truth: A Twenty-Nine-Year Journey


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It all mattered.

It all held a level of significance.

It all molded you.

 

Not all of it remains.

Not all of it should be cultivated.

Not all of it carries forth with you.

 

Today I came face-to-face with my reality.

And, I fancied it.

We’d known each other before we knew ourselves.

 

As we set side by side, we knew each other still.

She had been my childhood best friend.

Back before Facebook, Twitter, and Snapchat.

Back when we exchanged weekly if not daily handwritten letters.

Letters I still have in my mother’s attic.

We separated not because of a disagreement, but due to emotional distance created by unspoken truths.

 

Haunted by the same secret we went our separate ways.

A secret that changed us without changing us.

Our secret no longer secret.

Our mutual truth no longer remains hidden.

There has been too much living to ever die again.

 

Few people have held her spot.

Mostly, because they never got the shot.

 

Reminensencing she brought it up, my adolescent reaction.

Her adolescent response.

Not to the truth, but to the omission.

Even now, it lingers.

She says, it severely impacted her formative years until her son appeared.

 

The reminder as we sat in the Central Jury room humbled me.

Our adolescent attempts at self-expression showed our ineptness.

Hurt turned into acting out.

And acting out metamorphosis into unforeseen consequences.

 

We have seen each other a few times since then.

But little did we know, the lives we then lived would soon come undone.

A twenty-nine-year friendship almost died, because of the truth we could no longer hide.

 

No more secrets.

No more excuses.

No more reasons to remain reclusive.

 

All the misinterpretations now clarified.

I am reminded why clarity is so important.

Fearful of a truth we both shared because we feared what the truth might shed.

 

It all mattered.

It all held a level of significance.

It all molded us.

 

Not all of it remains.

Not all of it should be cultivated.

Not all of it carries forth with us.

 

But we now know,

No more secrets.

No more excuses.

No more reasons to remain reclusive.

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Day 335: Anchor


 

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What is an anchor?

Anchors are strong.

Anchors provide support.

Anchors hold vessels in place.

Anchors deliver content to the public.

Anchors can also prevent you from  moving when you need to move.

Anchors can become a hindrance.

Anchors left unsecured can cause you to unexpectantly drift off course.

Anchors reliant on others can distort the truth.

 

Anchors exert power in a team sport.

Anchors attract consumers in a retail structure.

Anchors are fixed similar to true North.

Placing the anchor in the wrong position can cost you the race.

Placing an anchor in quicksand can sink the ship.

 

What is my point?

For every use, there is a consequence for improper positioning.

You can have all the support, all the talent, and all the wherewithal in the world.

Yet, if you use an anchor out of position, you will sink instead of swim.

 

You do not place detergent in the water after all the dishes have been washed.

You do not paint the wall after all the pictures have been hung.

You do not prepare for the job after the candidates have been selected.

 

So often we hear people say, “I was in the right place at the right time”.

Conversely, they might say, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time”.

In both of these statements, they were in a position to receive some obscure action or value.

 

Before I wrote my first sentence, I had to learn my first word.

Before I learned my first word, I had to be taught my alphabets.

Before I was taught my first alphabet, I had to learn how to talk.

 

Every development had an equally important precursor.

Without the first, there can be no latter.

 

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Day 274: The Other Side of Enlightenment


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Sometimes, I miss the luxury, naivety, afforded me in my younger years.

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Day 273: The Nuts and Bolts of Relationships


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Relationships are like nuts and bolts.

Over screwing the bolt could strip the grooves beyond repair.

Use the wrong size nut and it will not fit.

Your use of force will make or break your relationship.

There are many degrees of force.

Emotional force.

Kinetic force.

Mental force.

Physical force.

Physiological force.

Silent force.

Levels and types of force are akin to the air we breathe.

If someone hands you a 5/16 bolt do not place a ¾ nut on it.

In turn, use the socket wrench when the increased power from a handheld drill, would warp the bolt.

The things meant to us may require work, but they rarely require force.

The definition of force indicates an exertion of power greater than required to achieve the desired goal.

Find the 5/16 nut in the basket of ¾ nuts and find your true pairing.

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Day 272: The Pie Recipe for Cake


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It is virtually impossible to use a pie recipe to make a cake.

It is the same with life.

Self-focus is the key to eliminating barriers to one’s success.

Constantly focusing on someone else, hinders you from growing into your own potential.

Grow or stagnant the choice is yours.

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Confession Moment: Keeping it 100%


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I have not done one in this series for some time. Not sure if it is a matter of I have not needed to or I have not wanted to. In any respect, it does not really matter. The point is I have a confession. Not a deep dark confession, just a confession about something a friend and I have been conversing about of late.

The year is 2016. It has been a great year. I continue to reaffirm who I am with each new challenge, I find an opportunity.

Overall, I do not have many complaints. But then again, even in my darkest of hours, I rarely did.

Life is too short to spend it doing anything you do not want to do, unless, you have to do it in order to get where you want or need to be.

This particular mindset I began to harness a few years back has really supported my steps throughout 2016. I am eternally grateful for anyone and everyone who created or presented a situation where I had to challenge, defend, and sustain my personal identity of self.

With that being said, I recently entered the dating scene. Which brings me to the reason for this confession moment. I had two serious relationships in my life. Combined they span across two decades of my said life. I am not proud or ashamed of this fact. It is just a factual part of my history.

Others I have met have not been able to wrangle a few years into a single relationship, let alone a decade or two. This is not a slight or a commendation. It is just a factual part of their history.

Neither of us has a right to place judgment on the other’s choices. We do not know the other players (most of the time). We do not know what glued or severed the ties even when one of us expresses our side of our perspective lives. We just do not know, because in some cases our perspective is only as good as our knowledge on the matter {food for thought}.

But, we carry on in search of “the one” or in some cases “the ones”. Real talk, I have seen far more than I ever expected and lived far more than a part of me every wanted.  And, I have enjoyed it all.

Yet, there is a trend happening in the dating arena of 2016 that is truly blowing my mind. It is not the swapping of partners like we swap out dirty or wet socks. It is not the randomness of connectivity so many of choose to settle for in place of permanence. It is not the increase of sexually transmitted diseases for those in my age range at an alarming if not terrifying rate. If I am honest and reflectively look at history, none of these are new trends. In fact, they are a continuation of the old guard.

In fact, it is probably the number one reason so many couples actually settle or convince themselves the current one is the right one.

But a particular trend goes against my basic understanding of couplings of two individuals into one partnership. The station in-and-of-itself is not a station to be ashamed of. All of us at one time in our life have been there. But being there before instead of while during a relationship raises some serious questions about one’s priorities in life.

The station is unemployment or as the true wordsmith would say, “between jobs”. The result is the same. The station creates a situation where basic survival comes into question often, especially, in our moments of silence.. To be honest, for some of us on the other side of the line, it still comes into question every time we sit down to pay bills. But, my point is I am all for seeking joy, finding purpose, being open to whatever, or just looking for companionship. One should not be alone, unless, one chooses to be. However, being unemployed without any real source of income automatically raises the red flag.

Relationships require commitment. It is not always easy even when it is easy to let someone in or figuring someone out. For most of us, no matter how over it is with the last or how new it is to the next, we have been changed simply by the experience of someone else in our lives. I know I have.

Besides, all the emotions one experiences during a new relationship, imagine the compounding nature of such emotions with those one feels during the station of unemployment. Self-worth comes into question. Position in comparison to friends is present. The ability to provide for one’s children or family is also there. And, these are just a few of the soft internal battles hanging out in the station of unemployment.

Personally, if you do not have self together, why on Earth would you seek to bring someone else in on all that turmoil, anguish, and moments of desperation.

It is not just a matter of keeping it 100%. It is a matter of being 100%.

{Exhales}

EYHCS

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Day 186: Please Retire the Phrase “You’re Coming Out” – Groundhog Season is Over an it’s Independence Day


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Sometimes, I feel like the message, “You’re coming out” should be retired under Juneteenth.

In Texas, we celebrate a holiday of being made aware even as we sat in chains we had been pronounced free almost two years prior.

Really, it’s like being imprisoned, watching the guard unlock the cell doors, announce your freedom, hand you – your release papers, and you turning over and going back to sleep.

In life, we are already out, but it’s easier to complain than to be held accountable for producing. I cannot be called out of a prison that no longer exists, unless I lock the cell door on myself. And, that’s not captivity. That’s self-imprisonment.

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Day 181: Humans


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Humans are funny creatures.
It is harder for us to admit our wrongs than to acknowledge there was wrongdoing.

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Day 165: As A Writer – the Real Tragedy


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Year one of my blog I attempted to write daily. I was more successful at times than others.

Year two I actually managed to write almost daily for a large part of the year.

Year three, I realized, I could not make the same commitment as other bloggers and set out to post at least once a month.

Last month was the first month I missed my mark. I didn’t stop writing, I just stopped posting. I go through these periods where I want to hold on to the drops of knowledge streaming from my mine. Eventually, I release them, once I feel they have germinated long enough to sprout and bloom.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy your comments and likes I think more than I realized I would. Sometimes, we have to hold onto ourselves a little longer so we remain whole, especially, as artists.

Artists create from experience.

Artists divulge secret thoughts in their artistry.

Artists are transparently exposed to the elements of the audiences’ minds, preconceptions, and suppositions.

Some of these elements are true and others not so much.

 

What prompts me to write today is a need to release in a form I have come to find solace.

My writing rejuvenates my soul.

 

I know people are hurting today by yet another demonstration of targeted misplaced hatred.

I recognize many are searching for answers and for some those answers will never come.

I appreciate the pause the nation, if not the world, has taken to grieve the senseless loss of life.

I mourn the slain.

I pray for their families, their friends, their love ones, and the love ones they will never have.

The tragedy is tragic.

The incident deserves space in our hearts, in our minds, in our thoughts, and yes, in our conversations.

 

My issue is not with the events.

My issue is with the reaction.

 

And, for some it may seem callous.

I confess, I questioned myself.

I wondered if living in this world has desensitized me in ways I do not understand.

I wondered if my anger at what I can only classify as debilitating thinking is right.

Am I wrong for cringing when I hear a person say “they no longer feel safe”?

It is extremely difficult to stomach, when it comes from a person of faith.

 

What is this weird concept of safety? We are only as safe as the intentions and dedication of someone else to harm us or themselves. Of course, there are things we can do to mitigate the threats to our safety, but living means we all live with a certain level of uncertainty. It’s called life. We seem to love creating boogeymen so we have a reason to raise our voices and be heard. Or close our doors and not be seen. Pick your prison!

“I’m screaming inside, because it would be impolite and disruptive to do so on the outside, “Hello, who do we put our trust in?” “What world do you live in?” “How can you proclaim power and cower every time darkness breaches the ‘Circle of Life”?”

As a writer, words build bridges.

As a writer, words tear down walls.

As a writer, words lift up dreams.

As a writer, words silence nightmares.

As a writer, words speak for the mute.

As a writer, words invoke change.

As a writer, words are eternally hopeful.

 

I guess what I’m saying is the situation in Orlando, in our nation, in our universe can breathe darkness in the shallowly places of our lands. In these times, we often lament about the incident long enough to allow time to pass before the next great tragedy. I am not here to take away someone else’s method of coping. If this is how one needs to cope, cope on.

 

I simply find myself frustrated with the lack of depth of our arguments, of our comments, or our display of power the size of a toothpick in an EF5 tornado.

 

Deeply Sadden and Frustrated,

 

EYHCS

 

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Day 96: Sponge vs Broom (Knowledge vs Emotion)


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Being a sponge when knowledge is the objective is an edifying process. Simply squeeze the sponge when the source of knowledge moves from objectivity towards subjectivity.

Being a sponge when emotions are on the table is a dangerous dance. You can trap other people’s feelings into your own consciousness. In this case, be the broom and not the sponge.

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Day 95: Peking Duck


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Several weeks back, I watched a video on how Peking Duck is made – from the egg to the table. The entire process for a geek like myself was fascinating. Ducks lay eggs that are immediately separated from the duck and placed in a mass gestational machine. Over a period of time and through many stages the duck embryos grow closer to hatching until one day, they chip away from the inside out at the once protective shells. As they grow the shells are no longer a form of protection. Their shells have become a prison for their growing bodies. Eventually, the little ducklings break through and move on to the next stages of their lives.

The interesting thing is during the filming the interviewer picked up a partially cracked open egg shell and broke it, thus, freeing the duckling inside. I cannot help but wonder how will the duckling fare compared to the other little ducklings who broke themselves free.

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Day 93: Knowing


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Ever wonder why mathematicians insist on having you show your work. Because knowing how you arrived at the answer is a greater achievement than knowing the answer.

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Day 53: Am I Dead


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The line says, “I shall live and not die”. But, if I do not know how to live… am I not already dead?

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Day 51: Letting Go


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Witness the first day of the rest of your life, choose to let it go. Choose to let it out and without any doubt.

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Day 44: Emotional Hostage


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Have you ever been an emotional hostage?

Would you know?

I didn’t.

 

What does one look like, you ask?

How do we identify one, you ponder?

The answer is elusive.

 

How can you be an emotional hostage if you possess no real emotions?

Where can I find one, you inquiry?

Hopelessness colored by glossy eyes, chirper ideas, and silent tears.

 

Where’s the mirror?

Whose reflection is that?

Yours declares the heart.

 

I never knew I was an emotional hostage until one day I wasn’t.

I never knew I packed away my emotions until the movers unpacked them.

I never knew the other side of me until we were free.

I never knew I just needed to make it through.

 

Then one day, I stopped speaking to prevent the reactions of others.

Then one day, I stopped living to curtail the viciousness of others.

Then one day, I stopped dressing a certain way to conform to others.

Then one day, became another day instead of someday before today.

 

I didn’t know my ability to shield had shielded my emotional prison from myself…

until speaking didn’t curtail my living.

 

I just didn’t know.

But I do now.

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