Everyone has a story...

I have several speaking engagements coming up and sometimes I am amazed anyone would want to hear me talk. I never considered myself a “public” speaker and really have spent much of my life very shy and somewhat reserved. I learned that to accomplish anything I would need to step out of my comfort zone and engage others. I was asked several years ago to tell “my story” at a private luncheon and I had never spoken open and honestly with a room of strangers about the person who I used to be and the journey I have been on. I believed my recovery, my story were things I should be ashamed of, to hide, to only share in the company of others with similar stories. I have challenged myself to make my recovery, my journey a source of pride. If I were a survivor of any other disease I would wear my pride on my sleeve. There are many things I don't understand about myself, but I have faith and hope. I don't understand why I have been blessed with the opportunity to have an audience to listen to me. My story is not that different than others’, but it’s my story…everyone has story.
B

an examination of ego

Humility. Humble. Accoutability. Power. How does one learn Humility? Can it be taught? and what does it have to do with Power. Accountability is a value, trait most of us are taught at an early age. But how accountable do we keep ourselves? and what does accountability have to do with power. I try to live my life with humility. I acknowledge my wrong doings and try to repair any harm they have caused. I try to practice the ideal “not have everything I want, but want everything I have”. I keep myself accountable. I have very little interest in power and believe in giving power to others, empowerment. 

But I am human and I have ego. And ego corrupts these tenants. I believe I have to keep my ego in check, to seek a humble existence. I observe ego in others. I watch power corrupt others, destroy people, relationships, lives. I don't know the answer to all these questions, nor do I understand the full complexities of these values, tenants. 

I know I am aware…are you?

B

restoring justice

I have spent some time the last couple of weeks contemplating justice and harm. I believe in the tenants of correcting and repairing harm. I understand that my place in the world is to make things right. I can never go back and do things over and I know I caused harm and continue to cause harm, as I am not perfect by any means. I believe part of my purpose my reason for existence is to make things right, to repay the world for everything it has given me. I encourage others to do the same. Somehow if we all give to one another maybe the world would be a better place.

Do something nice today

B

http://watch.wsiu.org/video/2365208994/

a continued dialogue with the boy

“Are you ready to put that in a coffin?”

“All that shit you carry around.”

“Are you ready to be someone other than who you think you are?”

“Can you let it go?”, “Can you be you, and not a version that you have created?”

“Those very things that you have clanged to, desired, have destroyed you”

“They have no value, now”

“however they are part of what got you here, without your love for them, you would not have made it this far.”

“the truth to who you are, who you can become exists at the bottom of a grave”

“are you ready to dig?”

“are you ready to work?, to uncover the truth.”

“I will stand beside you, I will hold the walls from falling in on you”

“I will guide you.”

“I will remind you when you are ready to give up”

“All that shit you carry around…bury it.”

The old man with the wide brimmed hat

B

Am I Normal?

What is normal and where can I find it? If I find it will I know I have found it? I have never felt “normal” even as a child I never felt like I fit in anywhere. As I think back of the kids I spent time with I never really felt close to many people. I never felt like I truly fit in. As I became a teenager, this only worsened and I began to dislike myself. I spent time with very few people and that time was guarded and uncomfortable. I had a serious of relationships with girls who I truly believe cared about me and my well being. But I was unable to have a healthy relationship. Something I am not proud of. My best with relationship came in the form of self destruction. My inability to feel “normal” and the residual consequences of hating who I was, was the perfect storm of addiction and self harm. I not only wanted to feel normal, I wanted to feel. 

As I have aged my definition and desire for normalcy has changed and continues to change. At times, Im okay, other times, I want to hide from the world. I don't know what normal is. I understand and have taught myself and shared in normalcy with others, but rarely do I feel it. I know after years of practice, modeling how to act, feel, express myself; but I am still lost. 

I still look at myself and contemplate…Who am I? Am I ok? Am I normal?

B

The soul collector

Her dress is  made of the softest white cotton.
The white is mixed form the color of clouds and hope.
Her skin is fair and covered in the images of dreams.
The glow from behind her is golden mixed with harmony.
Her hair, a pale blonde is long, curly, holding pain in each strand.

I see her somedays, on playgrounds,
walking between houses, at the busy intersection.
I see her sitting in the clouds.
She can be my friend.

Every tiny cotton thread of her dress is made of souls, golden
She is earth, heaven, harmony.
She is peace, balance, freedom.
She is a collector of souls,
dreams, desires, memories.

B