Believe in yourself. When you do, the world around you will see you for who you really are. Not what you think you can be.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning thinking of you
Remembering the last breath you took
I remember everyone that was in that room
As you kissed this life goodbye while my body shook
Why do you continue to show up when I least expect it
You’re just as sassy in my dreams as you were in life my friend
You were a smart ass then, and even in my REM
When I wake, how I wish I could smell your bad cooking again
I’ve got four walls falling down on me.
I’ve worked so hard to protect this heart,
Grasping what’s left of my sanity.
Karma’s kicked in my door, and I can’t ignore all these evil deeds anymore.
So this is what you see, another soul getting comfortable in a bubble.
He is what you see, another soul getting comfortable in a bubble of genetic machinery.
She is what you see, another soul getting comfortable in a bubble of genetic machinery.
One of our problems is that very few of us have developed any distinctive personal life. Everything about us seems secondhand, even our emotions. In many cases we have to rely on secondhand information in order to function. I accept the word of a physician, a scientist, a farmer, on trust. I do not like to do this. I have to because they possess vital knowledge of living of which I am ignorant. Secondhand information concerning the state of my kidneys, the effects of cholesterol, and the raising of chickens, I can live with. Continue reading
Only one more cent left
Like the back of my hand
I know you all to well
You’d rather give it away, than spend it yourself
My name is Ricky Fix. I found myself on a stone paved sidewalk outside an apartment complex called Grosvener Arms in Downtown Denver. Blood was dripping from my eyebrow. I didn’t know that until two concerned pedestrians saw me on the ground with my pants half way down next to a dying tree outside the complex. They tried to help while I bled all over their clothes. Requesting more and more muscle so I could stand up straight to button my pants that for some reason have become undone. “Don’t ask me, who put this sidewalk here to begin with?” I say.
For some reason I kept on blaming the sidewalk for my problem. It wasn’t the profuse smell of cheap rum and whisky that protuded from my vocal cords and soon to be pores. It wasn’t my lack of care or character that I chose to instill in this body this world has kindly granted me with.
This is merely someone sharing what they feel is good practice. To practice reflection is to change one’s presence. To be more present, is to be more alive and more involved in your own life and those around you. Reflection is not to be confused with dwelling in the past. It is the opposite. It’s acknowledging the past and recognizing what one should do differently to create a better present.
Notice how I have not spoken about the future?