Wine soaked logic: Wasted Time.

Moments lost in translation. Lost in the universe never to be found again. These moments so significant in the minute, so memorable by the hour, so influential by the day. 

Mistaken. Lost. Hidden.

What is wasted time? Is it that time which we cling to so unaware of our surroundings? So stubborn about our future. So distressed by our past? We cling to this time in moments of emptiness to remind us that we have a right to feel it. To remind us that we didn't waste our life. 

What is the reality? The reality is that we have allowed ourselves to divulge into a picture so smeared, or so intricate and complex that all our eyes capture within the moment is a stroke of the brush and the colors which create it. We can look down and see our feet on the path, but what we do not realize is that as we draw closer to the idea of utopia, we find ourselves betrayed by reality.

The limitations of our canvas do not exist. To escape meant missing out on the masterpiece. To the colors within we felt connected to one another. We believed in the power of these  primary colors to become advanced to grow into something we have never known before. 

Time.

The clock twists. Logically, full of numbers, equations which never surprise us...What happens when those numbers become smeared? Like the colors of a painting? The numbers lose meaning, the time loses weight in logic, the circle of reason becomes a radius, constantly spinning, but never slowing for understanding, but rather becoming a hypnosis.

Painting with numbers, Its the time you realize doesn't exist, so much so that you forget your wasting it. So what creates this circumference of colors? Is it the man who calls you names? Is it the mistake you made that will haunt you forever? Is it the frustration that feels as though will always be there? Our spherical canvas that shows no escape route is created with these moments, spotted with mistakes, void of logic. 

Pain is illogical. Scars are unreasonable. 

But the result? That is a truly compelling vindication.
Our only guilt lies in the heavy heart which creates a perception of distortion. 

Afternoon in Monterey

What can I say about the opportunities I have been blessed with? What about the experiences I have had to discover my world far beyond the horizons that box me into my reality day after day?
My success', my failures?
For a long time I believed that I just deserved what I got, good or bad. Even had a few discussions with friends about the idea behind deserving the things that come in our life. Always playing on the side that we truly do deserve what we get. Here's the problem, we don't.

I have always been a strong advocate for choices. And those which we make everyday being the key to who we transform into. I learned about something else this week, when correlated the two ideas build an argument against deserving something versus simple energy in the universe. What you put out is what you get back.

Bear with me. I may need you to be a little more open minded than usual, what I am talking about, what I learned? It was all about faith. Faith in a higher power. They say that you never understand what it means to have faith until you feel it because it is such an extremely abstract idea. Faith doesn't have to be directly associated with religion. But whatever you believe in make sure you have faith that it is going to bring you happiness when you reach the end of your road.

I went to California this past week for vacation(that opportunity beyond my own horizons I was talking about earlier?). During the church service I attended the preacher told me a story. The story that changed a perception so firmly ingrained in me, and in many people my age.

He spoke of his nephew who was just 4 years old when he was diagnosed with cancer. Amongst several trials going through remissions and multiple reappearances the child died at this young age. *at which point the preacher broke into tears, an experience of grief so real that those listening so intently felt the pain* He moves on to explain the questions which arose out of this tragedy. "Why Mateo?" "Why do bad things happen to good people?" A panic so real that it brought tears to my eyes. The aftermath, the child parents split up, sadness and misunderstandings ruled their every move. Years of suffering as a result of this tragedy drove separations and ostracizing. One day, years after the child's passing, the mother met an old friend at a party. One year later the preacher expressed the joy he had to officiate a marriage ceremony for the two on a beautiful afternoon on a cliff overlooking Monterey and the bay.

The preacher went on to explain that in times of extreme tragedy it is difficult to see the joy, and in some cases that joy is resulted in a life other than our own. You see we will all always deal with pain and suffering, misunderstanding, and grief... But the results, whether experienced by you or someone  down the road, when we offer up our suffering is that we allow joy to come from it. It doesn't mean we stop suffering, in some cases we suffer more. That's when faith comes in. You believe that the truths which create your persona are powerful beyond your capabilities. An understanding that each time you feel pain, through faith, a higher power pulls through to benefit others. Whether it be a soul in need of grace, or someone who has worked hard and it's their time for success.

Mateo died, and if you believe in eternal life, that was his happy ending. Even if you believe another truth about life and who we are at the end, you cannot argue the joy that came from this suffering. Two souls connected and became one. With one tragedy, came one celebration, *atleast* one happy ending.

Under this logic alone and with the understanding that faith is primary, we see that nothing is ever deserved. When the good opportunities come knocking, or when something great happens for you, it means someone somewhere has offered up their suffering for a stranger, and when you are suffering it just means that it's your turn to offer it up. The cycle continues to turn and those with great faith allow the engine to keep running on our trusted understandings of life and love, hope, and our everyday pursuit of happiness. We simply choose to take part. This is the only real control we have over a joyful result from suffering.

So why now? Why did I question this so intensely when I heard the story? Why did I analyze it? I visited Monterey during the latter part of my trip, I looked out onto the bay, I saw land untouched, water cleansing the cliffs, I felt that energy. Amidst a difficult time in my life I felt that joy of Monterey. I yearned for that to translate into my life, but I also knew it wasn't my time for Monterey.

It would always be there, waiting, right now it was my time to suffer, but not with misunderstanding. It was my time to offer up the pain. I stopped asking "Why me?", because those souls that needed saving needed the grace more than me at the time.

I know I'll continue to suffer, but I would rather suffer in faith than feel joy without.

Joy without faith is empty. Faith is in the energy of the sea, its in the clean lines of the sky as it creates the horizon, it's in the cliffs imperfect with scars, its in waves recovering the land.

Our plan is not a plan at all, it is in the scars created, and the anticipation that
our afternoon in Monterey is coming.

I don't know about you, but I can't wait.

An Affair with Perception

I don't think we ever stop having a quarter life crisis.

Imagine a time in your life where you felt like everything was perfect.  You were happy in your relationships, 100%. You were happy at work, successful and respected. You were happy with yourself, in love with who you are. If you're between the ages of 21 and 29 I would say these moments are few and far between.

From my experience there is a disconnect in these years. A learning curve. We start taking the people our parents raised us to be and we are given the free will to roam free with it. To discover our lives amidst a string of unrealistic expectations and dreams that seem so far out of reach. Those who see these obstacles as a wall rather than a tunnel are doing themselves a terrible disservice.

You will never get it right,  if you don't do it wrong the first time.

I am 25 years old and at the center of this pie of flirtations. A flirtation with success, with a lucrative career, with the cute boy from the coffee shop, and with the person I wake up and see every morning in the mirror. I used to avoid eye contact with the compilation of intricate and vulnerable ingredients in my life because I was afraid of rejection,  afraid of failing,  and afraid of missing an opportunity.

We are all guilty of it.
When was the last time you saw someone you thought was attractive and walked up to say hello?
We avoid confrontation for fear of disingenuous sentiment or nonchalance. 
When was the last time you opened yourself up and flirted with the idea of taking a risk in your career to make you successful? 
We thrive in the comfort of our own realities to bypass anything associated with failure or becoming an enigma of incompetence. 
When was the last time you looked in the mirror, and saw not only with your eyes but with your mind, the soul and beauty in the person staring back at you?
We pick apart our flaws to mask the feeling of being content in who we are.  Taught by society that we will never be good enough.  We lust after perfection to deflect a state of settlement, leading to the false belief that being wrapped up in ourselves is any sort of imprisonment by our own minds.

We stand slaves to the affair we have everyday with perception.

The most powerful perceptions are a result of the idea that humanity transcends from one idealistic formula. That there is a standard that we as humans are required to meet. A standard so socially reflective that influence alone, rather individuality and uniqueness, is the denominator.

What if, one day, we all just decided that we were going to stop perceiving our lives to be a certain way?
If we stopped being ruled by the dominance of worldly perceptions and cherish our own personal gravity.  What if we stood with our feet planted firmly on the ground and developed our character and personality to integrate in and within each other, rather than conform to those around us?

Imagine how different our affair would be. Imagine how innocent the flirtations would become.  Imagine the true impact we could make on these years so significant to our future.

I am 25 years old, and I am having an affair.

*An affair with my success. 

*An affair with my confidence.

*An affair with myself.

Globe of Ambition in a World of Reality

I've been thinking about life and the gravity that surrounds it more and more lately. The ambition which, seemingly supressed, is re-surfacing rapidly. This globe of opportunity and my role in its reality.

Living in a world so focused on points of reality that are designated to faint hearts and narrow minds. Logic so strictly conceived by the fearful. How do you escape? How do you fight the struggle of this financial independence that threatens the wild mind to remain comfortable in being content? Dreams are dreams. The questions are only as difficult as you choose to perceive.

You see, influence is powerful. Whether that influence is a person, a place, or a circumstance. So unavoidable, forced upon us with such great insistency. We don't side step it, we can't duck to miss it, we walk right into it and keep hoping silently that it won't swallow us whole. Inspiration found in the darkest of places is still, at times, not enough to pull us from the hole in which comfort takes the reign over us.

The hole, dug deeper by our attempts to climb out, is significant of the complications which placed us there to begin with. And as that person,  or that place,  or that circumstance stands so defiantly above us we become smaller, we sink into the reality that hurts us the least.

I can't say that I was never small. In fact, I was tiny. But somehow, by grace and faith in something larger and more powerful than my own determination  brought me to this moment,  to these nights of inspiration where I feel ambition overpowering me and the idea behind discovery outpouring from the veins which keep me alive.

There's no obstacle in this world that isn't centered around this idea of familiarity. A struggle so fierce that our innate fear of loneliness, were we to attempt an escape, swallows passion and spontaneity.

But one day we wake up from our field of dreams, which in the past have haunted us, and we change our perception of reality.  The frame in which our mind integrates loneliness and fear to correlate with incapability is eliminated.  For a split second you think of turning back but the light shining ahead is warmer, and full of the possibility only blinded by our past interpretation.

Suddenly, the globe is our world. We live our days driven by the reality that pipe dreams are no longer unattainable.  We stop running from our mistakes and start running towards our success.  The dreams that seemed so far are now but within an arms reach. Outstretched,  our determination allows us to persevere through the pain of that which so violently held us back.

Because we don't see positivity as a thought within a moment,  but rather, our strength. We don't see negativity as our enemy but rather, a worthy opponent.  Pushing through without a doubt in our, now widespread, imagination that the peak is never reached. Our ability to carry on a life of always learning and experiencing is a drug.

We reach out and every day capture a new discovery within that which surrounds us.

We wait, patiently.
We hope, loudly.
We dream, and yet we never fall asleep.

I'm taking charge of my life, is that alright?

I am the owner of my life.
I am the chaser of my dreams.
I am the glue of my own ambition.
I am the keeper of my future
I am the owner of my life.

Passion.
Intense, Primal, Forceful.
A cloud to cover vision.
A beautiful storm.
Passionate rain, touching my lips.
Demanding emotion.
Passionate passion.

Empowerment.
True,  uninhibited,  selfish as it is.
Empowerment
True, power.

Cleansing.
Mind, Body, and Soul.
I wash away the complications.
Cleaner than ever before.
I give myself permission to start fresh

Reason.
Logical, Factual, and Bountiful.
A channel of hope renewed.
A channel of guilt erased.
Reasonable reason.

A future bright.
A past forgotten.
A present perspective.

Mind forward,
Back unturned.
Forward I move.
There's no looking back.

Waiting, Hoping, Wishing

Why do things end? Why do people leave? What's the point of falling in love when all it ever does is end in hurt? 

I would hate him so much more if I didn't love him so much.

Our story is so much like history, over before we even knew it began.

Missing is a part of life. Whether you are missing some one, some thing,  some emotion, some feeling, some thought, or some memory. You miss chances and opportunities, meanings and theories, lessons and triumphs. Moments pass in an instant and then are left behind regretted by those who never took the opportunity to revel in them, and missed by those who so intensely cherished them.

Life is a series of MIStakes and MISunderstandings

The memories you left behind haunt me as if the light was never there. Moments so vivid to me, that they couldn't have been made up. Yet the light, the passion, the feeling held so carefully and faultless was my own MISrepresentation. Your hand, although extended,  never grasped. Your heart although so seemingly strong, was weak. Your life, so unsure and inconsistent,  formed a lie which you told me over and over again.

So why do I miss these moments?  Why can't the memory of you end with your disappearance?

Why do I continue to be driven by hope, when all my heart can truly do is fear.

Humanity is messy, it's complex in nature. Resisting fear is not for the faint of heart, and hope is for the foolish.  But if I wait, I hope, and I wish then I give myself the opportunity to live. Hope out-stands fear. Love overrules hate.
And missing someone is a whole lot better than never knowing them at all.

Letting go means remembering these things. It's that separation and distinguish between those who wait, and those who hope. I have waited for you forever,  each day crushing my hope more and more. So I let go of the burden connected to the wait, and I allow hope to invade. I give myself the permission to wish for your happiness and to wish for your success. While reminding myself that these are my dreams as well.

Broken things cannot be fixed through someone else's heart. No matter how much I cared my heart was never the glue you needed. The glue came from within. The strength as your guide. And a new day as your opportunity.

So I will miss you, as the moments replay in my mind; but as this ending was inevitable, our fates are full of promise.

So...

As I waited--
so will you, 

As I hope--
you will too, 

As I wish--
you will find the light you need.

Pain at the Hand of Beauty

How do you see yourself? 

When you wake up fresh from a dream and carry yourself to the mirror in the morning, who do you see? 

I know we all wish we could wake up powdered faces, sin circles under the eyes, hair combed. Who do I see? See I am the type of person who looks like someone beats her up in her sleep. I am not kidding either, ask my friends, somehow, my hair manages to literally stick in every single direction when I wake up in the morning. Usually the dark circles are mixed with some makeup that didn't come off in the wash the night before, skin looks clean but blotchy. What if we woke up in the morning and started our day believing that fresh awoken, sleepy face that slowly awakening body, was beautiful?

How different would our day be if we saw perfection in the imperfections of an image so pure, and so fresh, and so untouched as the image we see first thing in the morning. Can you imagine where each step in getting ready would take us? And more than that can you imagine the confidence we would inevitably carry ourselves with were we to begin our day with a simple thought?

I am beautiful.

I know more than most how it feels to want to change everything about yourself. I've always been the taller one, the bigger one, the different one. I never allowed myself to hear the words that described the beauty I felt like I possessed. The words that invested themselves in me as confidence took a long time to develop into something that was cognizant to my everyday being.

I know that I have a long way to go, but look at how far I've come. 

Unless you see beauty within yourself, no one will ever see that beauty. Unless you commit to the likelihood that your confidence will carry you, you will continue to hide behind the aspects in your life you feel define you. Unless you choose to let your own words, your own thoughts, your own beliefs, and your own actions be the direct representation and the ultimate definition of your being? You are not going to be free from the binds that will continue to hold you back.

So how did I build this confidence? I began by taking out judgment, criticism, and the absolute insane idea of perfection and more than that, what society teaches us is perfection. 

I looked at myself and I forced myself to be inspired by the person staring back at me.

I looked at my love handles as something to love, and my smile as something to cherish, 

I looked at my eyes as a token of peace and my height and strength as a sign of perseverance.

 I looked at the softness of my features as a channel of youth and innocence, 

my hands as a channel of motivation. 

I saw my mouth as a channel of dedication, and my heart as a channel of hope. 

I saw a potential in each imperfection as an intimate relationship with progression towards becoming a better person. I don't look at my weight as an obstacle anymore, but rather an opportunity. To find an abstract idea in which I can thrive in, a future I can work for, health which I can live vivaciously through.

I stand upon this box, which I have built despite hardships. I watch the threatening hands of the world attempt to break me. And sometimes I fall, I look at my knees, and the skin which holds me together? Broken. 

Pain by the hand of Beauty. 

I retrieve my composure by reassurance, and step up again with a weary soul. Waiting for the next judgment, the next whisper, the next stare. I refuse to be enslaved by the ideas meant to tear me down. I look up, into that morning bathroom mirror, and I tell myself; 

You have a beautiful body. You have a beautiful soul. 

Your confidence can change the world.