Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.  –John Ed Pearce

I remember the day I walked out of my home to move away for college. My mom and I had a fight that day (about what I can’t remember anymore), and I remember watching them get into their car to go to church while I was loading the last of my things into the bed of my pickup truck. Not a word was spoken before they drove off, and I remember standing there on the porch with my girlfriend (who eventually I married and then divorced) crying about how this was the last moment that I would be living with them as a child and that they didn’t even say goodbye.

We had a lot of fights that summer. A lot of harsh words were exchanged. A lot of tension. Perhaps it was the empty nest realization that their youngest son was going to be leaving them home alone…together. Perhaps it was the stark realization that the reason they even stayed together in the first place (my brother and I) had now come to pass. All those years of saying and believing that when we grew up and moved away, my mom was out the door, had suddenly became very real that day by the last load of my things sitting in the bed of that pickup.

I took it very personally that day. And it cut me pretty deep, feeling like they didn’t even care that I was leaving. But now, looking back on it from the vantage point of ten years, I can see how perhaps the tension of that summer and that time had little to do with who I was and more to do with what my leaving represented to them. It meant that excuses were dissolved and all they had was each other. Later, my mom told me, my dad cried about it. It must be hard to watch your kids grow up and become their own persons. I know it’s hard to watch mine go back to their mother’s house every Sunday. I get a little dose of that empty nest syndrome on a weekly basis.

Since that day, I’ve found myself back home three times. I’m currently working on my third time. This time has been different, however. Amid all the chaos that brought me here, for the first time it wasn’t tragedy or finances. It was just mere circumstance. Being unprepared for something that shook me out of my current place to live, leaving me in limbo while I look for another.

And in these moments, I am learning more about who I am and who I choose to be a little more each day. I see that even in the two years since I left the last time, my parents have aged a little more. They are a little slower. They are a little older. They don’t function quite as crisp as they used to. I see, especially with my dad, that my time with them is getting shorter each day. And that makes me a little sad.

I’ve also realized, and have come to realize, what really matters. I’ve spent all this time focusing on how I can make my dent in this world without thinking about the people who matter most to me and what might be going on in their lives. My parents. My brother. My kids. My family. These are the things that I cherish most, and I’ve allowed myself to create distance between them all.

Last night, while watching the Wizard of Oz for the umpteenth time, I was struck by the last scenes. For the first time ever, in watching that movie a million times, those last lines brought a tear to my eyes. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.

A lot of things swirled around in my mind in those moments, and a new possibility was generated. I decided that the safety nets weren’t really safety nets after all. I wasn’t running home for safety and security. I was running home because I MISSED home. And I hadn’t even left! That’s the most ironic thing. I went away for two years in college, and I just now realized that I never really came back. My heart is still out there somewhere, and that I am just going through the motions here. Always looking away. Always looking for some great white whale in the distance, while missing out on the most important things that are sitting right under my nose. How is it that I could have been so lost? How is it that I could be here, be gone, but not have left?

Everything that is happening in my life in this past year has been SCREAMING to me to take a look at HOME and what it means to me and what is most important to me. And I’ve been so distracted and absorbed in other things that I wasn’t getting the message. I got it loud and clear last night, and it’s been ringing inside of me all day.

I’m coming home. I’m BEING home. And with that carries the possibilities that I chose not to see before. With that carries a new challenge, coupled with old connections. I surrender! I give up! There is no war to fight anymore. There never was. All of life, to me, was about homecoming. Cherishing the people and things that matter most. That’s what is most important. That’s what means the most to me.

And, so help me God, I will build a home again. Not just of brick and mortar, but in the halls of my heart and my spirit. And in that home will contain laughter, tears, good times, bad times, all of the intricacies of life woven together, and coaxed through the nautilus of my soul.

I’m coming home. I’m being home. And that, my friends, means more than anything else in the world to me right now.

You can spend all your time making money
You can spend all your love making time
If it all fell to pieces tomorrow
Would you still be mine?

–The Eagles, Take it to the Limit

I love me some superheroes. One of my favorite superhero scenes took place in one of my least favorite superhero movies (aside from the trash that was Superman 3 that is ). It’s a bleak moment for New York City. Venom has Spiderman pinned to a beam, and the Sandman is beating the ever-loving piss out of him. With each whack the city cringes. It’s a dark moment. Maybe the darkest moment.

Then a little ball flies out of nowhere and lands in the Sandman’s ear. Where the hell did that come from? Suddenly an explosion causes the sandman to crumble…or at least a part of him. Harry’s back and he’s forgiven Peter for all the crap they put each other through.

That’s just the lead in to my favorite part, though. My favorite scene is when they look up and realize that MJ is about to come crashing to the ground from Venom’s web. From the moment they are on the ground until the moment Spiderman catches MJ is one of the most mesmerizing scenes to me. And the reason for that is the way that they build momentum. Starting from rock bottom, Harry carries Spiderman, who eventually leaps from Harry’s glider. As he climbs higher into the night, Harry grabs his hand and throws him up further. Saved in the knick of time and all that shit. An upward spiral. From zero to hero in less than a minute.

Something amazing is happening in my life. I’m feeling the power of synergy in my life. Synergy being the process through which two or more people bring their separate ideas together and sync up in a way that takes those ideas and makes something completely new and better than what they each brought to the table individually. (Or, as Stephen Covey puts it, 1+1 = 10, 20, or 100.) An upward spiral.

I’ve spent so much of my life tumbling on a downward spiral, that it feels really great to see myself choosing to pull myself up. To create inspiring new possibilities. To feel those possibilities make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. To sit and smile like freak at the fact that the hair is standing up on the back of my neck. To crumple up into a little heap of goosebumps riding the goosebump truck into goosetown.

I’m starting to see massive results in the way I communicate lately. And it’s because I’ve suspended the obsessive thoughts of the conscious mind and started speaking in terms of the subconscious. I’m learning that identity level changes create an upward spiral. And when put together with someone with equal values and an equally empowering upward spiral, the synergetic forces at work create massive breakthroughs.

An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing. –Samuel Smiles

A little over a month ago I discovered some pretty limiting beliefs about myself. I won’t rehash the story because it’s all pretty much in my previous posts. But what I didn’t talk much about was how, in the moment of discovering my worst thoughts, a dear friend helped me to generate possibilities of other states of Being. Who I am is the possibility…

At the time I thought it was a one and done thing. Yay, I came up with two inspiring possibilities for myself and I began attaching myself to them. Whoopty doo. That’s kinda how it felt after the first few days. Sure, I broke out in goosebumps every time I’d think about it, but nothing about me was really *changing* the way I wanted. My life didn’t transform instantly in the moment I generated these possibilities, and I grew a bit impatient.

But then something magical happened. Something shifted in me. A little ball came out of nowhere and brought the Sandman down off of me. And now I find myself on an upward spiral. The rocket fuel that had been bubbling under the surface has suddenly blasted me off the launching pad into space. One flew over the cuckoo’s nest and all that shit.

I notice that as I generate these good feelings (something I’m not used to doing on any consistent basis), I spend a good 90% of my time feeling good…if not in a totally inspired state. And that inspiration is spiraling out of me and touching the people I surround myself with. I see it in the people I interact with online. I see it in the way that I relate to my kids. And I’m slowly starting to see it seep into my relationship with my parents and with my coworkers. For the first time in my life, I FEEL GOOD. And I feel good on a consistent basis.

And those feelings are like a fertilizer in my subconscious. I’m learning that the way to communicate with the subconscious is through feelings. In the past I communicated bad feelings and those bad feelings generated some pretty negative stuff in my life. Controlling behavior. Disconnection. Insecurity. Failure. Feeling stuck. Feeling like a prisoner. Feeling low. Weak. Stupid. The power of my identity created a lack of choice in my life. And that lack of choice permeated everything I did.

But now I’m speaking a new language. Now I’m generating new things. New possibilities. And they are springing out of me almost daily. It’s not a one and done thing. Who I am is the possibility of being charisma, inspiration, creativity, synergy, reflection, courage, confidence, and sensuality. These are the things springing out of me. I see that, at any moment, I now have a choice as to which states of being that I can attach myself to. Which states of being that I can allow myself to generate and fuel my thoughts and actions. The impacts of such choices are myriad. Whereas the impacts of my old limitations were gunky shit, the impacts of the power of the choice I’ve invited into my life are much greater. As choice becomes present more and more, I feel more bold, more confident, more at peace. I don’t need anything to feel this way. Not money. Not a new house. Not a different job. In fact, I’m generating these feelings, with a giant grin on my face the whole time, sitting right at the job that I view as uninspiring. The job I labeled as a prison. I’m smiling from within the prison walls because who I am is independent of what I do or get. Who I am is something that is chosen wherever I find myself. I still have the power to choose those old ways if I want (and I still do from time to time). But I also have the choice to be these new possibilities. And I have the choice to generate new possibilities. The options are limitless.

So, I ask you, my readers, if you’d like to join me in my upward spiral. All it takes is a willingness to peer behind the layers of the darkest recesses of your soul. Peel them back one by one like an onion. Chase your feelings to the root. And then come join me in loopy-do-dah-ville for an upward spiral of intentionally generating good feelings. Grab my hand and we’ll go save MJ.

I have an almost complete disregard of precedent, and a faith in the possibility of something better. It irritates me to be told how things have always been done. I defy the tyranny of precedent. I go for anything new that might improve the past. –Clara Barton

It’s funny how a song can breach through the barriers and reach you at your core. I’ve always thought of music as a “magic bullet” of sorts that has the power and the ability to reach deep inside of us and mold us–if even for the briefest of moments–in new and inspiring ways. Even the most daunting of fortresses can be penetrated in a moment, even if the defense inside manages to send it packing once it’s through.

A few weeks ago I had a life-changing realization. It seemed like, at the time, that all the forces in my life were leading me right up to that instant. And now, in the aftermath of that discovery, I find the turmoil and chaos that that discovery had on my life slowly starting to settle around me. I find myself slowly coming to grips with the person that I lost in that discovery. I find myself slowly coming to the grips with the person that I found in that discovery. But most of all, I am slowly coming to realize that there is always a choice. A choice that I did not feel was present before, is now dancing right before my eyes.

But facing your demons doesn’t come without consequences. The physical upset that’s taken place since then has found me with the loss of someone that I loved…a friendship that keeps becoming a more and more distant memory to me as each day passes. I also see other areas of my life where I’m starting to disconnect. I’m seeing that the chaos that’s settled is now creating a shift underneath that’s causing me to re-evaluate who I am and who I might be.

And I cling to those words: “Who I am is the possibility…”

What happened for me was unsettling in a lot of ways, but now I am seeing the world through a new lense. I’m not seeing much in the way of physical changes in my life at this time, but I am starting to see the furniture that exists under the surface of who I am being drastically altered. A light is shining forth through the blackness and it’s touching the seed that I planted.

Who I am is the possibility. The possibility is now rooted in a choice. Whereas before I ran almost completely on autopilot, doing things because I felt a complete loss of control in my life. Doing things to try and micromanage and manipulate the things I thought I could control in my life. Each little area, before, was run by a need to get a grip on the situation. To get a handle on why my life was operating the way it was. Why, at the time, I felt sort of like I had no choice in the matter.

Then, I found the gremlin. The one that spoke through me and was behind the controls. The more I dug, the more he tried to hide. The closer I got, the more confusion he tried to muster. Until the moment that I found him and threw him out. What was once a complete lack of choice, a gremlin that spoke to and through me, suddenly became something that was right in front of my face–whispering to me and trying to convince me that who I am is who I’ve always been.

What I realized, though, that now that he’s out in the open, the switch of CHOICE has been flipped on in my life. Now, finally, I can see that I can choose to listen to that voice, or I can choose something else. Something greater. A new possibility for who I am. No longer do I have to generate the things that are wielded by that darkside. I know who I am now, and I know that the possibility has always existed–I just chose not to see it.

So each day I wake up and make a choice. Who I am is a choice. Where I am is a choice. The things I do are a choice. I choose this…all of it. Do I always like? More often than not, no I don’t. Do I feel stuck still? Sure. Sometimes the choices of the past can create some pretty daunting obstacles. But now I know, more than anything, that the choice still exists. And it’s waiting with all its possibilities.

I am not ashamed to be the person that I am today. Who I am, today, is the possibility…

But the thing is, that was all we did. Maybe it was happening too fast. Maybe we wanted to hold on to what we had. Or maybe we both knew there were other things we had to find before we found each other. All we really knew for sure was, as we sat there, looking out over the lights of the town where we had grown up together, it all felt right. It all felt…perfect. –The Wonder Years

There’s a fine line between a breakthrough and a breakdown. On the one hand, a breakthrough can be shiny and inspirational and life-altering. On the other hand, it can discard the most important connections you have and cause you to do funny things. Sometimes it can be scary what simple thoughts can cause us to do. Sometimes it draws us closer. Sometimes it causes us to push the people away that we care about most.

I took some time this weekend to reflect about her. To shed some more tears for a memory that seems to fade a little more everyday. A memory that’s slowly turning to a sense of nostalgia. A moment frozen in time. A time I’ll never forget. A time I’ve been so desperately trying to forget in the name of “moving on.”

But I learned something this weekend. In my vast struggle to micromanage and “control” the situation, I discovered a love that I had tainted with selfishness. I don’t say that to beat myself up. I say that to openly recognize the truth. Sure, there’s some merit to the things I said to her. Sure, it takes two to tango. Takes two to tear a relationship apart. I’m not the only one with faults here, but I have discovered that it’s way more constructive to take note of my own faults–examine and change them–than it is to criticize another. Criticism cuts deep sometimes. And sometimes it can do irrepairable damage. Sometimes I can say something in the heat of the moment that just can’t be unsaid. Or undone.

But sandwiched inside a crazy busy weekend, I took some time to reflect. A little today…a little yesterday. I laid on my bed and remembered. I remembered me. I remembered her. I remembered us. And the more I remembered, the more the tears began to flow. I’m not hiding from my grief anymore. I knew that when I laid on that bed that I was going to cry. And I did. I cried because I missed her. I cried because I hurt her. I cried that as perfect as everything was, it snowballed outta control, and I wonder if things will ever be the same with us. I kicked open a door that I don’t think can be “unkicked.” We went down a path that I don’t thing can be just forgotten and tee-hee like we used to before we chose this path. Or maybe it can. At this point, I don’t know.

All I know is that yesterday, while lying on my bed crying, for the first time in my life I stopped focusing on my own pain and focused on how she might feel. I thought about the last email I had sent her and how we ended things on a less than happy note. I thought about how sad it was that at this point in our lives our roads have taken separate paths. I convinced myself that it was OVER. I did it because that’s what I needed to believe. I needed to believe that it simply won’t be the same again so that I could accept what happened and move on.

But in the process I discovered that closing the door like that was severing a connection. A connection that meant something to me. Perhaps one of my most important connections. A woman I love dearly and cherish the moments we spent together. I thought about her, about what she was doing, about what we might have been doing if things hadn’t ended this way. And then I let it go. I just let it go. I want her to be happy–that was my conclusion. And I pondered that thought–her happiness and how if her happiness meant what happened between us then I am glad for it.

Of course, I had the whole “it’s just not fair!” moments. I’d be lying if I also didn’t feel frustrated. Angry. Sad. I thought about how I cycled through the stages of grief…denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, and then acceptance. Yeah, those were all there at some point. It’s hard to let go.

I find myself resuming the life I lived before she came into my life in this way. There were twinges of sadness invovled in the fleeting moments that I thought about her. How I wished I could share the moments I was experiencing with her. And how, the fact that I couldn’t was a choice of my own doing. I found myself wanting to call the whole thing off and go running back. Found myself wanting to say all manner of things to her about how I want her in my life. But I realized that after pushing her away, pulling her back, and then pushing her away again that I simply didn’t want to do that to her. Sometimes, even if you come to terms with a situation, the best thing to do is just sit and accept that the way I handled things created this outcome–something I didn’t want, but felt I needed (noticing the “gremlin” popping up there).

So, tonight, I trust the hands of time to do it’s work. I release control of the outcome and move on with my life. I relish the moments we share and silently pray that there’ll be future moments shared. I pray that she finds healing for the hurt she feels. I pray that she finds a connection in her life that brings happiness. I pray that she comes to terms with her own issues. But mostly I just wish for her to be happy.

And in the meantime, I take the first step forward into a world without her…and smile a sad smile. I remember. I chose not to forget.

I know you’re out there. I can feel you now. I know that you’re afraid… you’re afraid of us. You’re afraid of change. I don’t know the future. I didn’t come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it’s going to begin. I’m going to hang up this phone, and then I’m going to show these people what you don’t want them to see. I’m going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you. –Neo, from the movie The Matrix

Dear Agony,

You crawled up on my shoulder when I was just a little kid and started whispering your sweet nothings into my proverbial ear. At the time I didn’t know what to do with you, so I did what every kid knows best: I made decisions about who I was based on what had happened to me. I gave you those decisions and you took them and buried them deep within me.

I am ugly. I am stupid. I am unworthy. I am weak. I am broken. I am a failure. I am hopeless. I am useless. I am helpless. I don’t know how. I can’t know how. I CAN’T BE ME. I. AM. WORTHLESS.

Pounded from every direction, you hid like a coward buried underneath my subconscious. You took the controls of my emotions and you played with my feelings, eroded my self-confidence, and made me into an empty shell of the bright-eyed dreamer I used to be.

I listened to your voice when you told me I wasn’t good enough. I felt your sweet caress as you told me that I was a failure. I heard you shout at me that I was a sinner, that I was inherently broken, and that I lacked the power to save myself. So I hurdled my redemption towards a god I cursed. I brought self-destructive habits upon myself. I cowered into obscurity for years, fearing the pathway up and out into the light.

I believed you when you said that nobody could ever love me for me. I believed you when you told me that I didn’t deserve to be happy. I believed you when you told me that I was ugly and stupid and incapable of leading my own life. I believed you when you told me that I was smitten with bad fortune. I believed you when I was laying at the epitomy of my despair, laying there on that carpet wishing I had a gun so that I could just end it all when the last of what little life I had at the time was taken from me.

You’d come out long enough to tear me down and then you’d run off into my subconscious to hide again. You bore shame and reproach and disgrace upon me. I believed you. I believed you. I fucking believed you.

And then a new friend came along. A new voice. A voice that encouraged me to keep digging. A voice that called out to keep going, that I was on the verge of the biggest breakthrough of my life. A voice that challenged me to dig a little deeper, to chase after your elusiveness and leave no space inside untouched.

It wasn’t easy to find you. It wasn’t easy to start walking through the halls of my heart flipping on lights and looking around. It wasn’t easy remembering those terrible things that happened or those awful losses that brought me to this point. But, like a leaky vessel, all the hope and encouragement I managed to muster in myself would slowly drain out and leave me listless. Exhausted. Fearful. Angry. Depressed.

But now, in this day, I know you’re in there now. I can feel you now. I can see you now. I can hear you now. And no longer will I run and hide from your intimidating voice. No longer will I listen to that little child who says I am ugly or stupid or worthless. No longer will I cower beneath your glossy facade, listen to your cooing lies, or fall flat on my face in the wake of your destructive despair.

No, today I speak to YOU for a change. Today I tell YOU how this is going to end. Today I stop running, I turn around, and stand and stare you straight in the face and tell you that I will not back down. I will not cower. I will not be intimidated by your deceit and lies anymore.

So let this be a message to you. I’m coming after you and I’m going to eliminate you. I’m coming after you and I’m going to throw you out. I’m coming after you and I won’t stop until you are completely gone.

Sincerely,

James

10. Des’ree–You Gotta Be:

9. Whitney Houston–One Moment in Time:

8. Linkin Park–Leave Out All The Rest:

7. Avril Lavigne–Keep Holding On:

6. Van Halen–Jump:

5. Wilson Phillips–Hold on for One More Day:

4. Whitesnake–Here I go Again:

3. Survivor–Eye of the Tiger:

2. Bobby McFerrin–Don’t Worry, Be Happy:

1. Switchfoot–Dare You to Move: