The tree, perched atop the cliff, with it’s roots sneaking into every crag and crevice. The tree, on that lonesome rock, is finding what it needs to survive and maintain its very being. The tree, with so few goals, lives in a place not hospitable. The tree has the things that matter.

I was thinking earlier, about all the things that I ever wanted. I realized that I have already captured many. Even with the emptiness inside, I have so few goals, and they are fulfilled. My goals are to make my family proud, to learn as much as I can, and to take care of those around me. The truth is, I don’t have to worry about any of these.

My family is already proud, without any accomplishments for me to point to, they are happy and proud for me. Even when I may not be proud myself. Even when they maybe shouldn’t be. Even when they never show it. Even when I do my own thing, instead of what they wanted.

I already know more than many, and that I can be content with. But there is so much more to know. But there is so much more to teach. But there is so much more to share. But there is so much more to create. But there is so much more to enjoy.

Those close to me are secure, even when they or I do not know it. They can care for themselves, and I forget. I will be there to help care for them, and they forget. Others are there, and we forget. Others can be cared for, and we forget.

There is some solace in this acknowledgement. And yet, there is discomfort in these statements. And yet, I stand so lonely while surrounded by so many. And yet, I could do so much more. And yet, I could do so much less. And yet, the path winds all the same – and not at all – along the journey.

I feel the urge to be more sporadic, and yet I am scared because of it. I feel the urge to say more, and yet I wish to speak less. I feel the urge to have enjoyment, and yet the urge to avoid it. I feel the urge to come, and to go.

My ability to enjoy life, has been compromised. And it is by my own accord and not. 2 weeks ago, my grandfather passed away. And with it all the passions I had faded into anger, not at him, God, or anyone else. The anger was all at myself, and my selfish mistakes, I do not have regrets, but I regret those mistakes. I just can’t feel anything else outside of sadness and anger, and have noone to talk to about anything.

(Originally published: August 21st, 2015)

The past week has been particularly rough, months maybe, and it has left me considering what is most important and what I dream would truly make me happy. Had you asked me a year ago, or maybe even 5, I have achieved many of my goals. And yet…

At the end of the year looking back, I traded the best things in my life, for a dream that seemed sweeter. Tantalized by the possibilities, I turned away from family and friends, the people that made and continue to make me who I am. At the very core of my being, I knew I was making a mistake, but everyone encouraged me to do what I wanted, and so I made my choices. Choices that I do not regret, but choices that were made with imperfect information.

Hindsight, as they say, is 20-20. I would make these mistakes again, but if I knew what would unfold in the closing of the year, I would have fought harder to stay and care for those people and things that made and make life so great. You can’t always hope, pray, or dream that you’ll see them again. If they’re still here, go and see them and embrace them. And if they’re not, remember this, “They’re still here; in our minds, our hearts, and our souls,” and never forget.

The events of yesterday, while all of those thoughts weighed on my mind, come far too close. Had things gone differently, it would have left a hole in my family and the family of my friends. It nearly became the reality of my fears and anguish. And even though I am not a religious man, I can proudly say, “Thank God,” that things didn’t turn out worse. Call it luck if you want, but I will call it a miracle and a sign.