Sometimes in order to grow, we need to, in essence destroy ourselves. By breaking down the old walls, leveling the lot, we can make room for new things to grow. These moments are often the results of  unconscious action and disaster and are recognized in humbling and embarrassing moments. It isn’t until we begin sorting out the after math, when we can identify the disconnections from our authentic selves, that we can identify the underlying neglected elements, needs, and new opportunities. Luckily, in the rubble and disaster of it all we are blessed with the opportunity to change and re-build. We’ve no structure left to cling to and only the open air and choice, to re-define, re-confirm, and once again explore our identity and direction, by picking up the pieces and putting things back together. The wrecking ball blows of self- destruction can be the birthing pains of a better life. 

There is hope for even the the hopeless,  in our worst moments and personal disasters; be it the heart breaking ending of a relationship, a twisted car wreck, or pathetic displays of public drunkenness. As long as we’re breathing the next day, the events that occurred however negative offer us eye-opening opportunities for re-connection and course correction. Some times we reach new lows, and other times, we re-visit old lows, passed out in our own filth while strangers discuss where to drop our body (new low for me ). These rock bottoms and new lows can help us in the long run. The sooner we realize the fall and self-destructive nature of our choices and behaviors, the sooner we feel the floor, and can take comfort that we can’t (or won’t allow ourselves to) fall any lower. From there, looking up and exploring what lead to the great calamity can lead to new insights about ourselves and present situation.

Moving forward- usually means staggering, limping, holding your head in your hands, praying for a shower and a cup of coffee, as you meander onward. How many times have you been offered the advice to simply “just take a step,” or “soldier on,” as we move forward?  It’s a classic image of confident triumph and charge ahead, but often enough, we don’t simply march on. I’ve had my share of epic failures and tragedies, and can honestly say, I don’t remember simply walking away from the explosion and train wreck, or moving on with a swagger as if I meant for it all to happen. In fact, if I ever did, it usually meant that I wasn’t finished processing things and set myself up for future crashes down the road. If you’ve not limped and whimpered away, screaming “what was I thinking?” ,  you’re likely missing some important life lessons (and really fun/exciting moments).

It’s important to recognize the staggering missteps as you recover and rebuild. Checking in on yourself and being honest about what you’re walking away from and how it’s affecting you can save your life.  Similar to being drunk, you recognize in your current state, when you’ve got double vision and the spins, that it’s probably not a good time to drive home. Likewise, sprinting away from a problem or painful moment, by living in fast-forward, rushing into other things to escape the thoughts, will more times than not lead to more and bigger trouble.

There is a hangover and healing time to every bad situation. The residual effects linger for a while. And the sooner we explore the situation, come to peace and re-hydrate;  the sooner we heal and can march forward in the fearless soldiering style, that our friends and loved ones compassionately advise us about. Personal failures, humiliating moments, and tragic disasters provide opportunities to re-invent ourselves. Sure you can mope and whine and stir in those feelings of self pity and victimization, but you probably won’t get far crawling like that until you pick yourself up and decide to start walking again.

When it comes to self-destructive acts, I’m a demolitions expert, professional stunt man and carpenter. I’ve blown it up, jumped it, wrecked it, risked it, and rebuilt it many times over. At times I feel 3 screws short of a screw loose. I get myself into so many moments that require course correction, confidence and courage that I have to right them down from fear that I might forget them. I try not to repeat failures, but have certainly been guilty of every coping/avoidance tactic out there.

These days I know a bit better. I  at least  no longer attempt fleeing scene. I’m here with a push broom, fresh blueprints and an eager and open heart. Sure I might move slow at first, but I’ll get better.

In order to move forward, we have to challenge ourselves and question our attachment to beliefs and pain of the past, by letting them go. Clinging out of fear does not help us move closer towards happiness. Often times, what we’re clinging to is a fictional world of rationalizations, where we’re not even owning up to our own shortcomings, mistakes and roles in the circumstances of a given event. In these states we learn little. Letting go seems like a hard notion in practice, in order to reach forward for happiness, we must let go of fear and pain.

To steal a line or two from Imogen Heap. “Let go. There’s beauty in the breakdown.” There is a majesty to it all.  In giving up the illusions of what we thought we knew about ourselves and the world we live in, we can return to the child like wonder of it all and imagine and dream without limitation of the perception of what is “known”. Hitting the reset button on parts (or most) of your life that you recognize you need and desire to change is an empowering experience. Luckily for us humans, these opportunities are granted, all too often, in the form of embarrassing moments, failure tragedy and disaster.

Notes to Self:

Attentively search for opportunities for growth and awareness.

Recognize smaller invitations to change welcome them early on.

1st Personal Realization/Admission for 2012 – Accidentally cross fading pain killers + alcohol on an empty stomach = recipe  for embarrassing self-destructive moments, and definite invitation to some more personal growth moments. :p

Don’t run from it. Learn from it. Then move forward.

Forget the fairy tale, there’s more magic in the truth than there ever was in the old story books anyway. The beast came before the man and the man was worse, at first. The curse wasn’t of beauty or beast it was of  blindness and desire. I spent my days fighting for fantasies. It’s all I’ve known. I don’t know if I’m the trickster and fool, or the product of witch craft and alchemy. I merely know, that I am here.

For a girl, a beautiful girl,  he desired so much to be a man,

Such a silly thing, such a wonderful thing.

Shed the skin, shave the fur, and starve.

Dressed up in the finest collars,

Trapped and bound in buttons and ties,

Taught himself to walk upright.

A clown and spectacle  to the other animals.
Holding  his teeth and tucking his tongue

Neatly in his closed mouth required constant attention.

Utter a word and his teeth would gleem and all fall out,

Words too would deliver their quality,

revealing intelligence,  leading to provocation.

And it would be up with the torch pitch forks.

As quietly as he could, he listened and smirked,

Obsessing over every petal and subtlety of her way.

Her shadow and friend, watched as she’d fling ,

What a beautiful flower, and with that notion,

He coveted.

Such a silly thing, such  a little silly thing.

Fell all the more and wanted so much

To be a man.

Bearing it no more, he wished to tell,

His story and all that he had done

Just to walk next to her.

What a foolish thing, letting lips unfurl,

Giving himself away, a beast among men,

The growl in his voice unmistakable.

Sending all away, to fetch the town crier,

and rally the mob.

Last words and dying wish fell like a thunder,

She was frightened, and rightfully so,

Knowing for the first time his nature.

Let them in after him with a scream that cracked the heart.

In came the cynics and nay-sayers, all to poke and prod,

to maim and kill him if they could.

Chased him to the ends of town and treeline.

He escaped and lived,  taking with him but a flower,

a coveted memory and mad hope.

Outside the next town over, a cracked heart,

A foolish longing and undying ambition got the better of him.

To be a man, such a silly notion.

Refined his facade, learned to speak with tact and mechanism,

Meaningless words he found, made people more comfortable,

So he used those the most,

Burying his true voice and heart in his stomach,

Forgot how to growl at all.

Petals fell. Time passed.

The disguises improved,

And he was a passable and even likable gent.

Found himself another treasure-

Reciprocated love- I know of nothing greater.

But he forgot his heart, his growl, and nature,

For the ambitions of men, and she too left.

And this time, it was not but a cracking blow,

But the utter destruction of the heart,

That at once, reminded him of his nature,

The true nature of love and life,

And in this little death, he learned  mortality.

Like Lazarus – brought back to learn more of life and humanity.

By some compassionate force,

Some god that took pity on his ignorance,

Admired his ambition, passion,

and saw a capacity for more than he knew.

He felt cursed; thought the world of witches and mayhem.

The world of men was a cruel place, and he was stuck,

He forgot his home and the path to get back,

not himself, not of nature, of nowhere,

he had become of his own creation and folly.

Cursed, and without a mirror to point to and lay blame,

Only books and songs of men to keep him company,

and picked up the pen and took to paper in the language of man,

and wrote with twisted heart, to process his frustration,

What would later become legend.

But his story stretches beyond those books.

The petals poured like heart beats, and the flower shriveled to a pitiful relic.

In loneliness and solitude, he was confused by the reasoning of man

When they invented time, as if to punish themselves,

Masochistically counting every second of their lives as it slipped away,

As the lonely, heart-broken, lost and idle are prone to do.

He learned the cruelty of man, and  promptly stopped staring at clocks.

He passed the time with studies of the world; philosophy and riddles to keep his brain from hearing his heart,  but even that betrayed him. It tricked him to  reconnect with his  natural talents, meddling in magic and alchemy;

Scorching his hands and heart on more than a few times in grand taste and fine calamity. His desire for love and reckless pursuits tainted his efforts. In his frustration, he abandoned prose for paragraphs, hoping to discover in volume what eluded him in the brevity of prose and poetry.

He remembered the importance of nature, and surrendered again to the seeming chaos of it all. He Retreated to the familiar bends, hills and woods of his childhood, and deep into himself. He reflected on all that was and all he had become.

Unlocking a bit each time, he made lists, notes, and scribbled a mess of revelations sensical and important perhaps only to him:

In knowing nature, and compassion, you know yourself, and you know God.

What was thought a curse, was a cure;  a complex formula, a winding, perilous tangle of roads, trails, oceans and country side, a path leading me to exactly I need to be, here, in this moment. If pursued with integrity and authenticity, what were once thought cruel, were  but important lessons of life. 

Misadventures too are grand and to be met with smiles and laughter.

What were once thought witches, were blessed teachers and mentors. No ill ought to be wished upon them, only praise and affection. All that came  before offered opportunity for wisdom. In failure and pain, struggle, frustration and reflection, seek wisdom. Wisdom brings us closer to happiness. 

A life spent in disguises of other men is an unsatisfying one, yielding little fruit and creating an unquenchable thirst through expectation. What is true for others must not be blindly accepted by me. Authenticity, integrity, consistency in word and deed are worthy pursuits even if in perfect form are unsustainable.

Expect nothing, but do all that can be done in the moment. Let not a petal fall wasted in hope, when the hands can help deliver in the  moment.

Love of life I know well. Of intimate and romantic love, I know little, save for 673 ways to fail with spectacular form- via intensity, passion, fear, shame, and lust. Of what little truth I know, is that all matters of the heart must be pursued with the full self, virtuous and well intentioned. It is a maddening formula that escapes me; something of timing, something of mindfulness, something of magic & alchemy, something of vulnerability, something of distance, something of tension, something intimate, something attractive, all  heated to different degrees, in different amounts at various times, depending on the intended recipient; a maddening pursuit but worth while from what little I’ve tasted of it.

Meddle with magic and alchemy often. These were meant to help keep life interesting. Of love and alchemy however, be careful when mixing the two.The results can do more than merely singe the brow.

Only meddle with love when opportunity comes to you through natural course. Do not force it, do not chase it intensely.

It is more elusive than any other force and far faster than a jack rabbit. 

You must be cunning, quick, aware, and know  when to leap after it. 

Love always involves risk. If you are not afraid for your life during the pursuit, you’ll never surrender enough to let it into your life in its ripest form. 

Never cage love. It doesn’t keep well in a pen, and can’t be tamed.

Don’t dwell long in the pain of  a broken heart. Learn as much as you can, do what you must to heal and keep at it.

Not every chase must be a pursuit of love, but all should be treated with respect and compassion. The doe may feed your hunger and leave heart wanting, but do not dishonor any pursuit. Give thanks and humble prayer, even if only kept in the slight glisten of a single, sacred and hidden tear.

Cultivating compassion & mindfulness are the constant lessons for those in pursuit of a happy life. I may never know their full depth or scope, but the pursuit serves me well.

A beast, a man, both reconciled their nature. My story is not over-

‘-Now just a furry man in a collared shirt.

Running through the ice and ambush of it all the old traps that hold us back and make us prone to fall – the internal chase deepens, seeking to pull out the dormant parts within..

Trailing behind
They want to see me burn
Wither and turn
Around the bend
I’m already lit
My own fires- leaving contrails

Running hard got to stay ahead of the  criticism and ridicule.  The beliefs I hold, old, new and foreign to most, make the world a magical but at times lonely place. They still burn you for practicing magic and alchemy. So keep them hidden, buried in briefcase, spells, prayers and formulas, encoded in a loose mess of papers and scrap.

Ran beyond the dam and back log,

Past the chimney fires and foot prints,

Forked off and forged ahead,

Getting warmer,

Shedding fresh tracks on the untraveled

Nearer now,

Closer to home.

Filled with the scents of cedar, minding the mountain, crisp air and fallen trees, giving feet and legs their fill today, they’ll ache with eager stories to tell in the morning.

Keep the furnace warm,

The body with, is against me,

The sweat crystallizes,

separating water and salt,

wrapped in a frozen shell,

I shed the layer- it’s a race now

To slow down, the cramps will come,

The cold will swallow,

And the crowds will follow

To put out my fire.

Coming down the mountain

This moment

Would share it with anyone who could hear them,

Would the words but fall upon ears that could make use of them

Maybe I’ll run into another fool,

chased by point of torch and  fork,

Brave enough to keep their natural soul,

Intimate and familiar

with ancient uncorruptable heritage

Now displaced by what’s been built upon it

They’re more rare than a hope’s chance,

Hope is not enough to fuel me.

I run in pursuit of self. At best you get lucky, and find someone to keep your pace, and match your fire. Dimming and slowing will bring you down. They are not worth risking iron shackles and hangman’s noose.

But, so rich is this moment and alone still it’s magic,

Alone it will do for now.

Let go of what’s been sold- a bad bill of goods, best let sunken costs lie.

Denying what is part of the whole, authentic self, separating the dark and the light is maddening chore. Are we not born of both light and dark? They both make up a day. My bipolar morality and path of either/or left out maybe/and, happiness and fulfillment.

The  cut in dry made it easy to rationalize behavior and blind to subtlety, you can twist and bend the light to shine on even the darkest deed. It’s a wash, and a con; a black and white romance of right and wrong, where everything is known, fixed, and sure. Surely it’s all just rigid, brittle and broken belief.

I’ve spent years hiding my spine,  shoveling sod on my thirst and desire, giving into what’s been over-prescribed as  right and good. What an addiction, if you accept what your fed, the more you pursue, the more you surrender, the less you receive. Surely the self has a place in what is right or what ought to be. I’ve built a gravel road over my dreams, making it all to easy for others to tread upon them carelessly. It’s a heavy tab, denying desire. It’s a steep price, at the cost of your pleasure and enjoyment.

Course correction courtesy of a sledge hammer and shovel.  Break em out, brush em out, throw them on the wall again. Dream again. I can only claim an honest pursuit of authenticity, honor and consistency in word and deed. Best to be real, honest, pursuing life with a child like curiosity and a list of questions. The instance you feel you’ve got all the answers, it’s all too easy to deviate and sputter out in old cycles.

The dam that divides has given way. I am undone and unleashed. The war within is won. The within is one. The resurrection of the natural self. The old is shed- caught lingering at the sleeves and ankles – discarded in excitement, prelude to many fine moments. These leaves weigh you down. Let them down. The scaffolds break away,  linear misconceptions, broken theories and simple notions that once propped me up, failed and fall away, leaving me free to move forward.

I’m unsure but exploring, and tumbling, laughing down hills. Bias surrendered, erasing the old penciled dividing lines of black and white.

Emerging from the cave, Beast and man reconciled- no longer primal animal, no Jekyll and Hyde, but passionate huntsman, dressed in the furs of what was. My desires are brought to consciousness,  and I’m accountable but not haunted.

Hiding the heart on the shelf, locking it in a jar, and walking away. My head in the clouds, feet on the ground, I’ll be playing in the park, keeping the hands busy and mind sharp-to task. I give it a day before I wonder where I put it. With any luck the dust will pile on and I’ll miss the label or forget entirely; That Pandora’s  box, the linchpin of life and universal connector, the source of saving grace and great condemnation.

I’m running away and praying, and know enough now, to pray in secret.  Keep them muffled, here buried in the rubble of ruined words. These prayers safe only to zealous reader.

Run fast.  Faster than any cage or net. Who I am is worth holding onto and surrendering to first trap set for me.

They like the sound, songs of old souls sang from the young always sell.

I can’t help but sing, but best to tell these stories on the run.

Roped and robbed I’ll be if I slow down.

In a word, fun is neoteny, being like a child; dancing and singing badly and shamelessly in the shower (Note about dancing in shower- Bathrooms are dangerous- don’t try it at home kids, I’m a professional). Fun is surrendering to the joy of the moment, abandoning pretense, fear anxiety and expectation. Fun is racing down grocery isles- neck and neck, cart to cart with a random stranger and his daughter, locked and loaded to the collapsible child seat, giggling all the way.

Fun is throwing out the stiff and brittle, rule book and making way for your imagination to  once again re-invade your life. Fun is putting your feet up on the dashboard on a road trip with loud music, good friends and only the vague notion of  journey and adventure but no known destination.

Fun is transforming the mundane into play.

An idle day, plenty to do, and I’ll get to it, but as I swab the decks, I hope for even the slightest of winds to fill the sails and point out carry this vessel to it’s next adventure. I’m lifted, light and free with plenty going for me and plenty to be thankful for. The fine crew that sails with me through life, a fleet of epics, filled to the brim with heroes in their own right. Watching the gusts fill the sails as the feeling of destiny tingles the spine, the notion that the cultivation of self-authentic, proud and whole, is leading you to new and wondrous things. I love the feeling.

Writer’s Denial. At first I thought it was writer’s block but as I explored  my thoughts, I noticed I was frankly refusing to write what I feel.  I was avoiding the true and the raw. As anything negative or critical is met with ironically, harsh criticism or worse, the obvious “sounds like somebody has a case of the Mondays” discussion. It doesn’t sell, especially if it’s true. Most people prefer bullshit, but the best rides are those with highs and lows, trials and triumphs. That all said, let’s deal with some lows.

Avoidance and Displaced Aggression

I started the morning pleasantly enough. How many people get to sleep in on a Wednesday, grab a book and get dragged to the dog park by their best four legged friend? I do. The dog park, however, is not the best environment for reading, at least not all the time. I enjoy the quiet moments outdoors, watching my dog play and harass the local neighbor dogs. Usually the owners are kind enough to keep voices low and their dogs quiet. Yet, as with any social gathering without an IQ requirement or discretion, loud mouthed dogs and equally obnoxious owners enter the scene and ruin any hope at a peaceful moment. I tolerate it but can’t help but think of the window-licking mongrels and their inept owners all barking asynchronously together.

I bury my face in my book, to make it clear, that I am overly involved in my book and prefer to keep it that way. Yet, inevitably, I am approached and accosted with simple questions from bored owners- desperate for stimulus.  I’m more than sociable on many occasions, but generally discourage interruption. It’s rarely a beautiful woman interrupting to flirt. It is usually an older guy who left his phone at home and in the place of thumb tapping on Facebook, he chooses instead to come over to the bench farthest away from the rest of humanity and poke at me with small talk. I’m tempted to offer to throw the ball for them.

As bad as they were, I had to admit that these things weren’t the source of my fouling mood. I tried writing the night before, but I couldn’t navigate to a positive space. So I deleted everything (sacrilege)  and was upset that I did. Throwing things out, attempting to find my voice and flow again can be frustrating. I was actually upset at the thought of holding back critical and negative assertions about life and recent experiences. Normally I’m brave, foolish and naive enough to voice my thoughts without fear. Yet, I wrestled with the keys on the keyboard, knowing full well how deep and dark I’d dive down if I continued on the path I was on.

I used the chapters of a self-help book at the dog park as a last ditch effort to convince me not to go negative. How unauthentic it is to never express a gripe, or go on a rant. How frustrating it is to hold back. After all, what better place than this? What better time? I know I’ll get through it and be back to prose, romance, and positive things, yet I thought I could fight or bypass the darker parts and skip ahead to the happier moments. My mind works against me, apathetic to my quest to avoid confronting these thoughts.

These Thoughts

I am an honest, intense, outspoken, complicated, easy target for judgement, and I’m okay with that. I provide so much ammunition for scorn, confrontation and finger-wagging, “you should be ashamed,…” moments. It goes with the life of a contrarian and anyone willing to define the rules of their own life and challenge others to challenge the bullshit sandwich of what is deemed “acceptable”, or ethical. I live my life in the gray and get shit from both the black and the white hats out there. Happy to oblige.

A big fucking HOWEVER, however, is doled out here because I absolutely hate and despise those moments when you get the strong inclination that you are being judged not for the obvious flaws, standard lines,  nor even by events in the moment, but by something far worse.  The person is looking to their past, judging themselves and you, and simultaneously predicting the outcome, as they bring down the gavel. Not judged for what’s in front of them. I don’t need extra help sabotaging my life.

We’ve all been guilty of it.  All the behavior in the moment is determined historically in the moment by our past. We can’t see what’s in front of us because we keep looking over our shoulders at what’s happened before, and we miss what’s in front of us. I can look back and recount some big blunders and missed opportunities due to this.

There is a difference between making a judgement based on learning from your mistakes and projecting past, present, and guaranteed perceived outcome, before anything can happen. This is self-deselection, and a setup job- of the foulest, brown swirling toilet water of cyclic existence.

I suppose I’m pissed because someone else did it and it’s beyond my control. No action, no words can overcome the walls of the past. There are no true conversations when shouts from a wall at others down below and hides from the response. Ignorant and naive stone throwing. If you cannot confront and discuss your thoughts with an open mind and willingness to be challenged, dis-proven, or transformed, then your conversations are one sided broadcasts.

After this sentence I will forget all about it and let it go, but I had to vent and get it out there; it gets in the way of good adventure and better writing. Maybe it’s true- that a hug would make it all better, or more great nights with friends old and new, lost and found. Perhaps more mischief, great nights of big trouble and quixotic misadventure are in order.  Sancho! Get my coat!

As I Brush the dust off the old blog space, forgive the rusty writing. I’ve done many stupid things in my life so far and made many mistakes- in a fantastic form and living up to the Captain Backfire title, but very few of those moments do  I lived to regret. The regrets that have stuck with me though, those emotional scarring moments that evoke painful memory, I’m never in a hurry to collect.

The mistakes that will haunt me for years to come are not what you’d first guess. They’re not the epic failed relationships, the blind-sided betrayals and denied foreshadowing sights and sounds of pain and heartache that most would cite. Those enemies are great teachers and bringers of growth. The failures I cling to and consider of epic nature, are far more subtle and often smaller, and seemingly insignificant than that. The specters of things that never were due to my carelessness strike at my core. They form the kind of scars that if you look at them closely, and long enough, or run your fingers upon or mind over, you can remember and feel their pain as fresh as the day they were forged. Missed opportunities and connections, like seeing a beautiful garden you’d like to investigate and promptly driving your car through it. embarrassing, humiliating, destructive and seemingly irreparable moments of regret.

I usually know in an instant, when I’ve added to that humble collection of deep, intimate, personal and failures that will be ingrained in my psyche for years to come. I don’t keep many secrets, but I do keep certain trigger points and memories, buried under the rug, through a trap door, in a sub basement of the basement cemented over for none to see; knowing full well, the deeper I bury them, the more painful they’ll remain. Occasionally, I’m lucky/intelligent enough to bring them to light, heal and let go, but let’s be honest, we all have a box of magical painful memories stored quietly somewhere, that we wish we could ignore.

There is a poetic justice, an unsettling cruelty, to watching bridges burn, knowing full well, with torch in hand, their cause; the accidental, well-intentioned, foolish, naive, selfish, thoughtless, or unaware nature of your conduct and actions that now permanently disconnects you from something or someone you care about. For me, these are sins with no rivals. They bear all the impact and penalty of worst conscious acts without the benefit of attention, malice, or common human character flaws. Ignorance is no excuse they say. And when the gavel comes down, the decibels of compassion, pleas for mercy or forgiveness are drowned out by the howls of pain, insult, and pride. Only self-aware have compassion for sinners, and I’ve met few who eagerly raise their hands to admit to that.

While you might argue that I do not always light the fire to burn the bridges, and you may be partially right, but I cannot fall in the habit of avoiding responsibility or blame. I know I carry leaky buckets of fuel, my big moth being one of them- everywhere I roam.  Maybe throwing myself on it will put it out this time… is a newbie’s hope. I’m a disfigured professional and champion at this, you throw yourself on it, own it, and ask for forgiveness without expectation, and good thing too, because it rarely comes.

After I’ve done all that  I can to put out the fires, to no avail; I can only watch the ropes burn. Often times, all you can do is fall to your knees and plead with God, or shake some trees to stir the spirits and ask for forgiveness. Each and every time as the heat rises and burns the top layer, singing the brows, I swear that I’ll remember that smell and that light that makes my eyes molten and glow red as the light dances on the tears I try to keep from flooding over my face- as men do- building dams in their eyes to block or control the natural way of things. I swear that I’ll hold on to them for my whole life and be attentive to this with zealous pursuit.  It doesn’t stop me from an onslaught of new and different  mistakes that throw you to fire once more.

It goes with ambition, it goes with effort; no one who tries avoids the flames. Anyone who has tasted great pleasure or held great love has felt great pain and has the scars to show for it. Eventually the fires die down and the hot coals and ashes discarded to the back of your mind, the great furnace of regret, only to billow and light your skin again in symphony with all your other mistakes when fresh fuel is piled on.

And each time, what may be easily dismissed by most, what many friends and loved ones will tell me to let go and surrender, what scorches my heart and my mind the closer to both it remains, I wrestle with for a moment longer, as if to  pay attention now to the rubble, though it kills me to do so. Letting the fire linger a little longer is the closest I’ll probably get to whatever connection I had before it all went up in smoke.

Such a new thing. Why bother? I’m asked. Why trouble yourself? These questions fall from mouths that have forgotten anything they’ve spoiled prematurely- like snipping a flower at the precise moment it begins to blossom. Most cope by saying- it probably wasn’t good anyway. What a great lie.  You knew it very well could have been and had all the trappings of, else it wouldn’t hurt so much that you have to lie to yourself about it. I do so much to cultivate and prevent from doling out harm and pain, keeping the pruning sheers away from any budding beautiful connection or thing. And still, in carelessness, still I fail and pay a tab far greater than one could ever read on my face.

The fires die down, but it’s yet not over. For now here comes the cold. I notice it in the winter air, the worst time to be burned, raw and open. Upon the palms of my hands that were once held warmly, the cold pursues me. It rips through my clothes tormenting my mind. This cold serves me; a reminder, way to go asshole.

The intensity is felt from the simplest, early and young infractions. Miscommunications and utter failures that most forgive themselves for or write off those who dismiss them so quickly. I do not. It is in these small notes of carelessness that echo down timelines when left unanswered.I don’t mind owning up to, taking responsibility for my actions and faults. I accept responsibility for conscious failures. It is the unconscious ones, the moments where I did not have enough sensitivity or awareness of my surroundings, of those involved and of the moment. Absent-minded, thoughtlessness, that you might forgive in a child, is so punitive to me.

How is it that divine spirits and gods can be so forgiving and people cannot? I don’t understand that. Gods are gods, immortal, ethereal, they need not suffer a single infraction of man nor of this world. Yet there are many instances of forgiveness, retribution, and so on. I suppose, walking the earth long enough, one might realize that mistakes, great and small are ingrained in life and humanity. Why are we, with such little time on this place, bound to be so stubborn? I do not live my life that way, though I do have ever shrinking moments of scorn.

Share your thoughts- I’d love to hear them.

Disclaimer: I know- this is a long post- a really long post. Here’s the deal. If you don’t laugh twice, or at least feel like more of a bad ass for listening to Jimi, I’ll give you your money back. Skim it, scrub it hate it or love it. If you wanted a tweet you came to the wrong place.  Queue the music and bad-assery.

I’m standing next to a mountain…

…I chop it down with the edge of my hand

 As humans, we’re hard wired for achievement. Maslow  believed that self-actualization, the sense of fulfillment and personal development formed the ultimate human need. Yet… we still find ways to derail the train.

EPIC FAIL Recipie #1 Giving up or turning around because you have undefined doubts.

I don’t know about this Tommy… Okay Chucky, let’s turn around.

EPIC FAIL Recipe #2 Taking on everything at once.  

I want to take a conference call, while climbing Everest riding a cloned mammoth, and tweeting about how bad the fucking thing smells.

It’s time for yet another installment of things that don’t require a rocket scientist to figure out or understand

• Break the bigger challenges down into smaller parts; required equipment, people, path, training, discipline, and courage. You can substitute courage for a little craziness and stupidity.

It is an often said but poorly understood notion, that many if not most people in your life will try to discourage, devalue and chip away at your self-worth. Due to toxic patterns, poor upbringings, selfish behavior, and other environmental and psychological factors, the masses try to bring you down. While exploring this subject, I took a deeper look at these things, and decided to share my thoughts as to why people do this, what you can do stop them and yourself from , and how to cultivate and nourish your own sense of self-worth.

What does a healthy sense of self worth get you? A solid sense of self worth can go a long way to helping you earn more money at work, improve personal relationships, and reinforce your ability to  have enough self respect to say “No, I don’t have to”.

A  healthy sense of self worth also helps to:

1. Identify abuse and toxic patterns in your mind and in your relationships with others.
2. Demand more for your time. This may mean more money, more focused attention, more balanced role in a relationship, or just more.
3. Empower you with the ability to respectfully decline to do things that you don’t want to do; the power to confidently opt out.

Why People Bring You Down

One way or another it comes down to the ego. Control, fear, insecurity and  desire for dominance and schadenfreude  drive us to put others down,  be it internally in our heads or externally.  No gender is immune to the practice or effects of this behavior. Men crush other men, rub in victories and defeats, women trash talk, judge themselves and compare to themselves to others.  It seems like it’s the way of the world and it’s encouraged in our culture commercially throughout almost every medium and method of information consumption, making it more difficult than ever to ignore. You would think that because the world is telling everyone that they are worthless, that we could at least be our own advocates, but by in large, our thoughts tend to conform and betray their masters. Don’t give up- there is hope.

What is the cure?

An attitude of constant cultivation and nourishment of our own sense of self-worth and confidence actually allows us to feel more comfortable around others, more likely to encourage, relate, empathize and  focus on the task at hand.

How do I get it?

Become aware of your self-talk and what you’re doing internally to bring yourself down. Identify those moments and switch tracks by reminding yourself that you are in control of your thoughts, feelings and actions, and ultimately, it is your choice. Nurture your new found sense of self by paying homage to the body-mind connection. Think about hitting the gym, yoga, self improvement books,  find your zen, and take fun and play seriously.  Treat the stress reducing, nurturing

Why The Man is Always Trying to Bring You Down

Why they don’t really want you whistling while you work-it’s good for business.

In the business world, the preferred level of self-worth is lower than it ought to be. It is mandated and enforced by egotistical micro-managers and in every exchange. If you can lower your competitor, opponents, customers, and employees’ sense of self worth, you, (the superior one) can assert control and assure compliance.

• Lowering the self worth of others saves money. The lower the sense of self-worth, the lower the price of the goods or services as people will feel less confident.
• Ensuring compliance by projecting superiorty while simultaneously deflating your sense of self worth.
• Lowering self worth is often used by managers who are seeking improved performance. Ironically, if they lead by example, a new and more positive performance pressure would be created.

Carrying on between the sheets-these notions are at play in your personal relationships too.

Self worth is a big factor in determining whether the level of control in your relationships. Your confidence level is everything, plays a role in surrendering, seizing and balancing control. It effects how you judge yourself, what makes you insecure and jealous, etc.  

• If your partner feels that they are less attractive or more invested in the relationship, guess who holds the greater power?
• Guys know (and love…then loathe) this one- There is often a correlation between the self-worth and sexual performance. Someone with a lowered sense of self worth is more eager to please and more likely to be up for anything. I’ll let your imagination take you on that little journey. It’s great for a night but dealing with a damaged, depressed partner who is addicted to a cycle of self-deprecation is never a fun trip.

Common Misconceptions

Here are but a few misconceptions around self-worth that we operate on a daily basis:

• A Positive Sense of Self Worth is abi-something…abnormal. People are afraid and intimidated by those that are different, or who display genuine confidence and self worth. Society has such a toxic misunderstanding of confidence and self-worth, that it seeks to stamp out even the slightest sprout.

• A lower sense of self-worth is acceptable, respectful, and humble.  The problem with this notion is often that those doing the judging would prefer you to be so humble that you live under the floorboards. Many parents over-emphasize discouraging their children.

• Mistaking confidence for arrogance. The climate for confidence is so bad in this country that people seek to prevent any sign or inkling of self confidence. They do so in the name of preventing arrogance. Let’s clear this conundrum up right now. Confident people focus on being and doing while arrogant people emphasize pride in their achievements.

Friendly Reminders

• The world wants to bring you down right? GIVE THEM THE FINGER. Even at your best, if the world has it’s way, they’d give you 50 cents to the dollar. Remember: It’s got nothing to do with accurate assessment of your worth. There are many reasons why the world wants to get you down, and accurate and objective assessment is not on the list.
• Respect yourself enough to be picky about community. Strengthen and cultivate relationships with friends and loved ones who encourage, inspire, nurture and support the best in you.
• Consider eliminating the Debby Downers from your life. These are the self-loathing, depressed friends who narrate life as if each day were a Seinfeld episode.  At some point, you have to stand up for yourself and have the strength to move forward with or without them.
• Stop narrating your life in a negative way as if each  and everyday were a Seinfeld episode. It will eventually drive away all of those friends and loved ones who you really want around in life.

How To Fix it – 7 Ways to Super Charge Your Self Worth

1. START. Simply Sending yourself down a path of self-improvement is a helpful by itself. Decide to start. Whether it’s a diet, an exercise routine, a book, a conference, etc., just by seeking a path, you’ll see things improve. Problems arise when we procrastinate and excuse or allow ourselves to stray.
2. Clean up your psychological surroundings. Think of the things and content that feed the negative thoughts and consider reducing or eliminating them.
3. Put fun and relaxation on your schedule. Treat them as you would your most important business meeting. Block out the time and don’t let life interfere. Understand the effects these activities have. They re-invigorate you. They bring you more energy and excitement. They bring you back to life.
4. Monitor your internal chatter. Note when and where your thoughts begin to send you to a place of distress.
5. Confront your negative self talk with realistic and positive opportunities to act. Consciously make course corrections away from the thoughts that bring procrastination, distress, and anxiety.
6. Have courage and invest in self-respect. Having self- respect sometimes requires you to take a stand and say  No. No thanks. None for me. I Won’t do that.
7. Remind yourself of your goals when you have to interrupt temptations and old patterns e.g. ” No. I won’t have another piece of cake. I care about my figure and health and am working hard to improve it.”