Chasing Ghosts

Why do we feel the need to constantly chase after things that don't exist?
Maybe they never did. 

We lead ourselves into fantasies believing with everything that something, or someone, exists. Emotion leading us blindly to a faction of truth where lies exist. A lie within a truth which exists so scarcely that it masks nonexistence, creating a ghost.

You saw him there though. You remember his eyes, the way he smiled at you, the cadence of his voice and the tiptoeing of his feet as he climbed next to you. You can feel his arms around you, his words move through you, your heart both heavy and lifted at the same time. Most importantly you remember the care he took in every conversation, trying so hard to help you see his perspective. Those words that meant so much to you. 

And then it was if a claw came down and took him. Or the existence of him. And as the loneliness sets in you begin to wonder if there was something could have done differently, if there was some grave miscalculation that brought you here. Then you remember there can only be one, there was only meant to ever be one.And anyone who stands in between was meant to become a ghost, passing in the night. We learn not to chase the ghosts because of the fragmented reality it creates.

We move forward and hope that, that which we let slip into darkness was never meant to be our light.

A Powerful Downfall

Anger. 

Betrayal. 

Destruction of Trust.

I don't think I ever really understood the power of anger until just recently. I am not an angry person. I love even when it's difficult, give even when it is undeserved. Vulnerability in its most passive state. 

I've never thought twice about trusting those who I care about. I believe in honesty as if an innate characteristic of humanity. I observe the world through innocent eyes despite the true and undeniable pain I have felt so as to not become bitter. I have refused to believe in evil as primal and betrayal as a societal norm.

Anger. 

It's probably one of the most life threatening emotions. It has the ability to turn your life upside down; to tear your perspective into unrecognizable pieces; to disfigure rationale and question conviction. Anger is a betrayal of your mindfulness and a conquest of your innocence. 

The world, though observed through the same eyes, yields a very different spectacle. Resentful epiphany soaks your vessels by channel of an excessive heartbeat, weary concern, and disingenuous regard. Thoughtfulness becomes an inconvenience and the willful ability to defer any fragment of obstinance simply fades into oblivion.

You betray the perceptions that create you, you destroy that argument which supports humanity.

The destruction of trust, leads you blindly through pain. 

It leaves no allowance for gain, no hope for retrieval, and no truth where the lies have invaded.

Epiphainein

I have been feeling inspired lately. I have been feeling inspired by something I don't know that I have ever relied on too much before now. Mostly I find my inspiration in the world that surrounds me. I find it in nature, the way that the land has its own language,  how it speaks to me in therapy, as if it is the only energy that really fills me. I find it in the closest people to me, the ones that never leave my side, who never give up on me, and who remind me that hope is better than living in darkness. I find it in my faith, in the belief of a being so powerful that it guides me without a concrete presence, an idea crafted by the most divine nature, a concept of life that carries me.

But this time, it's so different. This time, I am inspired by myself. I spend so much time burdened by who I am. And so often has it led to me searching for confirmation from others. Validation that I am a good person, with a good heart, and a beautiful presence. A burden that has led me to the wrong relationships. A burden that has kept me from pursing the right ones. It is a burden that has forced me to look for someone or something that sees me, but yet who i truly am felt invisible,  even to myself.

The last two years of my life has been nothing short of being stuck on a plane constantly rocked by turbulence. Pain that knocked the wind out of me, and me trying to catch my breath with the air of yet another saturated situation. I have had a lot of time to think about where I have been, and the things I have seen. The mirrors that hold up in my memory reflect confusion,  they reflect a lost soul, they reflect weakness.  I have felt betrayed, by others in my life, by circumstances both within and beyond my control, by my emotions, and most of all by myself. Each reflection a stigma of sadness. Each eye sparkling with a fear of defeat.

I keep thinking that I should feel bitter, or resentful, about these things. That I should be jaded by the pain, blinded by the defeat, paralyzed with fear. But rather than a feeling of debilitating weakness, the muscles contract and with every pump is a stream of hope continuously flowing through me. Failures becoming my opportunuties, and my success' building a staircase of baselines that never seem to summit. My biggest fear being that with every passing situation that the reflection will start to read nothing, as opposed to emotion,  regardless of its positive or negative charge.

Yet I continue to glimpse back,  and retrospectively find a twinkle of hope in every sparkle of fear. Hope that something more is meant from me, hope that one day I will feel the cleansing release of love. Love from another person, love for something I do, and love for myself. I am inspired by my courage, designed to prove that optimism is stronger than pain and fear, designed to lift me above the failure, and plummet me into opportunity. I am inspired by my perseverance,  not just to continue moving forward,  but to continue to hope.  Hope that the future is brighter than anything defining my past. Hope that one day I will find someone who sees me, not only for all the best parts of me, but for all the worst.

Your beauty is defined by who you see when you look in the mirror, not by who people tell you to see. Your strength is defined by your failures, and your courage to rise above to opportunity. Hope can be disguised in fear, it can be limited by pain, it can be stripped away by distrust. When you let go of the resent you hold for yourself, you will begin to hope for the future. You are your own worst enemy,  isn't that what they say?

Finding an alli in yourself is more than a reliability, it is a validation.  Proving your courage is more than a declaration,  it is a staple of your self worth. Seeing yourself, is what brings the world to their feet.

Four White Walls

White.

Multiple meanings strung together

Incomplete, forgotten, uncertain

Mind voided, voice unheard, stories not yet begun

White. 

Formerly a color of comfort, now the color of fear.

Surrounded with no escape.

Meaningless panic 

Bound by circumstances.

Limited power.

I sat on the inside.

I forgot to look up.

Frantic. Motionless. 

I contemplate my next steps

No movement comes.

Not to my lips, nor to my feet.

Thoughts still racing.

Heart still pounding.

Does an answer exist?

Suddenly you're there

Vague and blurred, yet unmistakeable

You look up, fear keeps my eyes on you.

Gesturing up, calmness in each motion

My head tilts, light catches my iris

A circle of warmth draws closer

Pulls me, lifts me, breaks me free

I stand on a meadow of opportunity

My feet with adrenaline 

I see a horizon.

Beauty, Strength, Opportunity

All was lost and now I see

Life worth living

Love lasting

Hope fueling.

Faith worth keeping me here.

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.