Walking Through Cemeteries

I have always been at peace walking through cemeteries; reading the dates and expressions of love; thinking the names sound familiar and wondering if I knew them or are somehow related

I feel kinship with those of the soil; common ancestry, common destination, and a common peace we will once again share

Introspection is always necessary in life; we struggle against it, push back the inevitable until we have nothing else left to feel

Our aliveness seeks our favor, languishes in keeping us happy; yet there are times when it is necessary to reflect on our mortality

Life goes on without us, a hard lesson for sure; but we make our mark and pass the torch on to the next generation, hoping that we inspired them to develop their own seasons of happiness

Cemeteries are strangely peaceful; we thank the veterans for their sacrifices and also smile at the expressions of love for a mom, dad, grandparent, or aunt

There is no fear, only reality; this mortal truth takes its toll on the spirit, but it can never win—the human spirit lives on

So take the stroll of certainty and do not fear; the dead have no power over us, but they do give us the power to keep walking

Loser

I have a confession—I am a loser.

I lost a life I once knew—yet a bold new one sprang from the tears.

I lost a career of over twenty years—yet found a passionate one that pushes me in daunting directions to become a scholar and leader when I never knew one was inside me.

I lost my habit of self-destruction and lazy nothingness—yet found a thirst for health and fitness that keeps my body in check and urges me to never settle for normal again.

I thought I had lost my children—yet from the ashes of their childhood my Phoenix-like progeny are building their own destinies as thriving, inspiring adults.

I lost nearly every earthly possession—yet now I am surrounded by a comfortable home and a subtle serenity that protects me from the terrors of the outside world.

I am a loser—yet we all have come back from the dead at some point and put up a valiant fight to exemplify how life is always worth the trouble.

The world is filled with losers—yet it does not have to be your epitaph. Start over and prove to the world that losers can never truly be defeated.

Just You Wait

No matter how hard I try to be sucked into the pull of pessimism, I continually return to my optimistic roots. Some may consider it a curse to always be positive; but, being an optimist, of course I consider it a blessing. The pessimist is an odd creature—always seeing the dirt on the floor instead of seeing the beauty of the hardwood panels. Pessimism is the path of least resistance:

“Surely death grabs us all in the end. Possessions rust and fade away. Your love ones will probably die before you, so why waste time giving them your affection. The Earth will surely crash into the Sun in a couple of billion years, so why bother.”

But the optimist can always see a way out. They can view an inspiring sunrise or sunset instead of only seeing a smoggy downtown skyline or a repetitive suburban yardscape. Most of all, they know that changing oneself for the better is not fleeting. In fact, it is one of the noblest things one can do. Even as the path of least resistance leads to the inevitable stagnation that comes with a lack of change, climbing the seemingly impossible rocky path of struggle pushes you to heights that you never thought were possible:

“I can be in the best physical shape of my life in six months. I can take that leadership position and learn how to distill some inkling of a leader within me that I always doubted existed. It doesn’t matter that you started this game in the second half of your life…you can play ball with the big boys and drive yourself into new levels of responsibility.”

Being an optimist is a struggle because some days it seems it would be so much easier to slide into the no man’s land of despair. But seeing the good and the practical in every situation is a gift that should be shared. You will never convert the pessimist, but you might show him a better way and make him long for the hope that you effortlessly exude in every situation. The optimist’s struggle is worth every minute of positivity. So take a deep breath and exhale. There is another chance tomorrow to fight off the stench of negativity:

“I am confident that I can lose this weight and be in the best shape of my life. I may not be as much of a natural leader as many that seem to be born with those skills, but I am learning and growing every day into some form of leader that only the person in my skin can represent. I will meet this challenge head on and show others that traveling the treacherous path to success is always worth the struggle.”

The River of Stories

*Which stories are the important ones…ones of every day monotony or rich adventurous tales that may or may not be true?

*Every day we write the stories that make us who we are…stories filled with the daily inspirations that lift us from our beds and bring us into the routines of reality.

*But what is reality except for the stories that we write…those that transcend time and take us to places that we built…places that defy the present and bring to life the past.

*I prefer the daring tales to the ones that lead us into old age with a sack of regrets weighing us down. The dreams of the future don’t hold us back, but they are the winds that burst our sails into life.

*We are overcomers…writing the stories of triumph…fighting the fights that suit our battle…some noteworthy while some do not inspire any heart other than our own.

*When the stories of our lives have been written, may we know that the struggles and failures we faced encompass the unbelievable journey that built our heavens and delivered us from our hells.

*I will never give up the dreams that fill my every waking thought…I will continue to dream them out day by day and offer up the future as a sacrifice to a life beyond my imagination.

Stand Still

No matter how we try to slow it down, time marches deliberately on

It never waits, feels sympathy, or asks for anything in return

It simply does what it has always done

No matter where we find ourselves, we cannot escape it or push it back

It is fair in that it gives no favor to the rich and poor; the strong or the weak

It simply moves us forward like the current of a rushing river

In seasons of great joy and solitude, it feels as if the silence somehow

Grabs time and holds it ransom, takes it up to a lonely hill and shows it why it must slow down

But like the wind, it cannot be harnessed, deceived, or controlled

The standing still is an illusion—it is easier to catch the wind

As when we savor food, fresh air, love, a song, or fine wine, we must savor the time at hand

Let us not try to hold it back, because that is a fruitless waste of a non-renewable commodity

But may we come to an agreement with time, acquiesce and let go of our grip

Knowing that we share time’s common fate with every past and present life on earth

No matter what happens, the times of stillness and solitude, family gatherings, and remembrances of those we lost will make the time seem like it is standing still…and that is all that matters.
 

It will always be the treasure we seek, but it will always be buried under the next tree

It simply guides the hands of the clock in their sweeping motion and leads us on to the next chapter