Pictures

Frozen moment in time. Smiles, fake and genuine. One story told, a dozen others hidden. What lurks behind that momentary happiness? A time when someone was more than they are now. It's impossible to predict where their paths will end. You only wish that you could return to the time when everything was simpler. Known. The moment in that picture. A moment seen through objective lens, captured by an unfeeling camera. You wish you were as happy as that picture made you look. A frozen moment of joy that in unfortunate reality may not have even been genuine in its capture. What use is nostalgia? What use is the longing for a time that now only exists on a 4x7 piece of paper, an evocation of tears? I look at my wall of pictures and I think, these are the people who made me. I owe them for who I am, and who I want to be. I can't fail them. Yet, they are already so different from the people they were in those pictures. I am so different. My dreams aren't, but my life is. That's what happens to so  many people: life. How do I keep life from robbing me too? How do I remain the smiling face in that picture? What happens if I never become the successful person they saw in the me in that picture? What happens if I become less than what I was then? Will they still love me like they did when we took that picture together? Will they still be here? Will I still be here? Or, will I be stuck in a longing for the past?

Inside, Lookin' Out

You ever get the feelin', you're inside, lookin' out? Like, you can see all the good in others, but you can't see it in yourself? You start believing phrases that have been told to you, but only when you're applying it to someone else. For example, I have had many people along my way that have expressed a faith in my future and in me, that they know I'm gonna be fine, great even. They see "talent" and "success." And, though I am always floored with gratitude for such praise, I find I lack this type of faith within myself. How do they know? "I just do," they'll say, and I reply with a skeptical raise of the brow. When they say that, I both understand and do not understand. I understand their "assurance" for I have felt that way for many of the amazing people I have met. I have felt faith in the talents of others, pictured their success and happiness. But, I find it remarkable that I could stir such belief in others. I have done nothing remarkable, only lived my days as I was told. I have been blinded by far brighter stars than I am.


Sometimes, I think God has given us two pairs of eyes, one to see the world, to see out, and one to see inside, within ourselves and others.  One pair you never need learn how to use, the other takes takes constant practice. And, faith, faith is being able to open your inside eyes without ever blinking, what they see is true, and gut feelings, any type of belief, is the knowledge they see/record.


What I think is most difficult, is to see within oneself, but this is for what the second pair of eyes is designed. I can see the potential in others, and now I must learn to see the potential within myself. That is what I want to work on, knowing myself. I like to think I know myself pretty well, but now I'm starting to wonder if I am starting to create illusions for my inward eyes, a most dangerous escapade. I'm staring to worry that I may be trying to force myself to have feelings that aren't there, liking someone I don't because I think I need to like someone, convincing myself I'm an upbeat person when I'm actually not, or maybe, even convincing myself I'm depressed when I'm actually happy. And, maybe, just maybe, this feeling of inside looking out is a warning that I'm using my inward eyes incorrectly. But, I think using my worldly eyes incorrectly will result in a feeling of outside, looking in. Maybe, the trick is to be able to know all views, the outside looking in, the inside looking out, and  blindness, doing rather than viewing. There must be a balance somewhere, and I think I will find it in silence, meditation, and prayer, most simply: peace. I will find the balance where I find peace. So, I ask myself, where do I find peace? In the arts, in being creative, whether it be singing, acting, or directing. Even writing has become a bit therapeutic for me; I feel like this blog is where I can be on the inside looking out, my videos and directing are when I'm outside looking in, and acting and singing is when I'm doing.


There's a quote by Horace Walpole that really resonated with me recently, and it sums up how I would like to see the world and myself:
     "This world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those who feel."
While I lean heavily towards the latter, I like to think I can view as the former. But, in this quote there is to me an inescapable truth: the world is something to everyone. And, judging by the fact that everyone has some capacity, whether limited or wide, to see from both points of view, it is most likely a tragicomedy. 

Lost with No Direction

Lately, I haven't felt any urge to express myself. I'm not sure what, but I think that is supposed to tell me something.

What I have felt is a need to do something with my life. I came to college knowing that I wanted to do theatre. I was going to act no matter what, even if I became a literal starving artist. I was gonna stop putting my love for theatre in the backseat, stop treating it like an extracurricular activity.

But now? Now, it's even more of a luxury than it ever was before. It's so far in the backseat, I'm not sure I see or even love it anymore. Do I still want to act? Am I only asking this question because I haven't acted in so long? Now I also think I might want to direct and do film instead of acting in theatre. But, I also keeping hearing it all the voices that told me I should continue singing or writing, that these were my talents. So, maybe a double major in theatre and film with a minor in English? But, then I leave out singing, and, I must admit, I miss singing. I would be lying if I said I didn't. I miss all of these things, all of my creative outlets, the things that kept me sane. I haven't acted in a year and a half, only ever directed one video, and stopped singing almost three years ago. Even if I studied these things, I wouldn't have the time to practice them, which is what I truly wish to do and what I thought college would give me. But, to keep up academically, I'd have to push enjoyment and practice to the wayside.

My conclusion? I just don't know anymore. And, that is the fact I feel most ashamed to admit. I don't know. Growing up, I had been haughty enough to think that I would know what do with my life once it was fully mine, but I don't. I am just as lost as those around me, something I never wanted to be. It doesn't comfort me to be similar to others in this regard. I like knowing things when it comes to my life and it's outcome.
I'm not asking to know the future, I just want to move towards it. I want to make it happen rather than let it happen to me. I want direction.

Yet, through all of this, the only thing I have done for my future is talk about  it. I have this wonderful gift of life, and the only thing I've thought to do with it is put it on the shelf. I am in the midst of pondering away my youth, of  spending my days wondering and wandering instead of doing and traveling with direction.
I watch these people who inspire me, admire they're determination to do what they love, and think "I wish I could do that." Why can't I? It's simple right? You just stop sitting around and do something. You have to start somewhere. Right? Because I'm scared. I'm scared of the possibilty of not having any money off which to live, of not having a home. I'm scared. What is fear but motivation? This fear should motivate to work harder for a bright future, yet I've somehow made it work in the reverse. It motivates me to do nothing I want to do, but what I have to do. I can't imagine a 9 to 5, yet that's what fear tells me I should persue.

I wish...

I just wish...

What? I don't even know that anymore. Even my thoughts feel without direction, as you can probably tell from this long-winded, fear-filled post. Main idea? Don't think so. If there is, it's the title.

Whew. I feel a little lighter now. Hope you don't feel heavier for reading so much. ;)

Anyway, thanks for stickin' with me if you made it this far, and, of course, advice is welcome.

Home Again

So, I thought I had left you behind, and I was sorry, but when I returned, I realized it was I who had been left. We grow in different directions, yet you all do it together while I must do it alone. It was odd coming back, like watching someone else care for something that once was mine, that once I loved. It was growing, changing one good way after another, and I had missed it. I had missed those changes. It was becoming better yet farther from me. I had selfishly expected it to return to me, but instead had to face the truth that though I may belong to it, it does not belong to me. It may refuse to accept me in its arms agin, if it so wish. It doesn't need me to be what it is, but it is an inseparable part of me.

To what I had wanted to return was a memory of days gone by, a mirage of your former self. I had foolishly assumed that nothing had changed, but in such a short time apart, we had become strangers. What should have been a comfortable slip into familiarity had become an awkward dance of reacquaintance. But, proving it's inevitability, our relationship became clear again.

It is the feel of my favorite worn pair of sneakers. The familiarity of late night drives to clear the mind, empty back roads. It is the comfort of my favorite food and my favorite place. It is the knowledge of when, where, and who I am. It's is my get-a-way, my haven. It was all these things I had forgotten, that I had taken for granted. It is home and I had missed you.

Wounds from Your Perfection

Ow. Ow. OW! I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything, but you're stepping all over my heart, and I'd really like it if you stopped. You're so oblivious to the fact that everything you say, everything you do, adds another crack to my taped together heart. But, I'm not oblivious. I feel every pang as strongly as the first. So please, stop being so perfect and wonderful. I can't compete. Sometimes, I feel like you are the sun and I am the moon, a pale reflection of your brightness. But, even though it hurts, I don't want you to change. I love your warmth, but I wish you would think the moon is beautiful in her paleness, her coldness, her isolation. I wish you could see that she is in love with the sun, though she can only gaze from afar.

Forgiveness

So let's talk forgivenesss. Someone very important to me is struggling with this right now, and I wish there was someting more I could do for them besides sympathize. I wish I could give them the peace that I have. Instead, I would like to tell them what I learned when I was struggling with forgiveness. And, with any luck, maybe it will help or maybe it's something they've already heard before.

But, what I have learned about this so far, as I'm sure I still have much to learn, is that forgiveness truly is an act that sets the giver free. I know that sounds like what they all say, but it is so true. When you finally decide to give it and truly give it, you are free. You lift away all the negative feelings you had about the matter. You get to let go, knowing you've done all you can and that your forgiveness may help the person forgive themselves. You are only hurting yourself by holding a grudge.

Also, I've found that when the transgression is great enough, foregiveness is something you have to work at. It's not something that can be given instantaneously when the emotional cut is deep. It takes a lot of work and time to put yourself in a position to forgive. It's not easy to give because emotions make it so hard to let go of the anger and hurt you feel. Even when you get to the place where you can forgive, it doesn't erase the wrongdoing. You'll always remember it, and so there will come times when you find yourself resenting the person again, times when you have to work for the freedom of forgiveness. Resentment is an ugly beast not easily slain, you will have to fight again and again.

Lastly, I don't think forgiveness absolves the crime. Actions have consequences and some have punishments. Just because someone is forgiven doesn't mean they didn't committ the crime. They are responsible Just because you give someone forgiveness doesn't mean you should continue to subject yourself to suffering at their hands. To me, forgiveness is something done for the future of a relationship. It's recognizing that person's wrongdoing and loving them in spite of it. Maybe your relationship, whatever it may be, breaks because of that wrongdoing, but forgiveness is being ok with that. Loving someone though you had to let them go, keeping hatred for them out of your body. Forgiveness is difficult, but it is worth it.

Here are some who said it better than I:

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you.—Unknown

Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were. --Cherie Carter-Scott

Forgiveness means that you've decided not to let it keep festering inside even if it only comes up once in awhile. --Doc Childre and Howard Martin

Forgiveness is giving up the possibility of a better past. --Unknown

You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well. --Lewis B. Smedes

Let's Stop This

I'm not sure, but this dance feels a little dangerous. The atmosphere seems a little volatile. When you're around it feels like emotions could flare any second, our tenuous peace instantly shattered. When you're around, everyone tiptoes,  but it's still not quiet enough for you. It's so weird. Sometimes, I think I get you; I understand you, but in an instant you prove me wrong. Things I thought would appease you actually grind your gears. What is this game we are playing? I don't like it. Tell me the rules, so I have a chance of winning. Oh, you don't know either? Huh. It's like the only rule is: everybody must lose. Why? Why can't you let things go? How can you not follow your own advice? I'm tired of spinning cirlces on this twisted dance floor, always having to apolgize for stepping on your toes. Sorry, I guess my feet just keep growing. I guess your toes will never be safe. Sure, you can stomp off the dance floor, but you are the one losing a dance partner, not me.

Any Advice?

Dear Me,

            Today I am terrified; terrified I will never make it. I will never achieve my dreams. All of the hard work I have done will have been for nothing, destined to leave me with only arduous memories. For a while now, it has felt as if all I’ve been doing is struggling. Struggling to motivate myself, hanging from a cliff by only the smallest strand of faith that I will be able pull myself back to safety, that I will ever be on sure footing again. I am afraid that if I jump and am able to fly that I will awake to find myself crushed by the weighty realization that all my success was just a dream. There are so many things I want to do and people I want to meet, but I am so afraid that once I begin my journey I will make a wrong turn, never realizing that it was wrong. I am afraid I will lose myself in an illusion that I’m making the right decisions to procure the future I so desire. I’m also filled with fear that only after I have achieved what I want, I will discover that it does not fulfill or make me happy, that it was never what I truly wanted. Do I know myself? Will I ever know myself? Is what I think I want now what I will still want in the future? What if I change my mind and that change only throws me to rock bottom? I’m scared, but of what? Am I scared of failing or of succeeding? Can I be afraid of both? It’s paralyzing, this fear. It’s suffocating me, yet I still have room to fear that I will never break its bind. I’m sick of being afraid, yet day after day I continue to stagnate in inaction. I guess I’m not sick enough. Why? If I were to shed my fear, I think I could be amazing. I think I could achieve all I want and more, so why don’t I? Why?  If I was truly honest, I guess I would have to say it’s because though this fear is draining me, it is something I know and can recognize, something familiar. It’s comfortable. It feels like a shield that is protecting me from being duped, from being led astray; it feels like trusty caution. And… now that I think about it, that feeling is of what I should be most wary, mistaking fear for caution. Caution can be helpful, fear never will be. Fear is what holds me back; it is the kiss of death. So, dearest me, my advice today...?

"No time to say hello goodbye. I'm late. I'm late. I'm late."
Under Pressure.
"Frustrated. Irritated. Disconnected from it all."

Thank You

The other day I went to a presentation by a group of people recruiting for a cause in which they deeply believed and by which they were profoundly moved to action. They had a strong and almost palpable love for the work they were doing and knew without a doubt that they were making a difference. They said they were certain that their goal would one day be reached. As proof of the progress their program was making, they shared some of their success stories, the people they had inspired to follow their dream. I have to say, that in the final words of the presentation, I was almost moved to tears because I saw their dreams. I saw the dreams of the people giving the presentation and I saw the dreams of the people they had inspired, and they were beautiful. The dreams were beautiful. I felt compelled to support the cause


It was after I had left the presentation that I thought of how the people described in the presentation were similar to me. I was able to take a moment to appreciate the people I have who believe in me. I suddenly understood how they could believe in my bright future, how they could express so vehemently that such a bright future existed for me. I have a dream, and I have been lucky and blessed enough to have people who have glimpsed my dream, people who, with just a glimpse, can have the courage to trust and believe in me, to provide their unwavering support.


So I come to the point of this blog post, to declare its existence as a thank you note. Thank you for believing me, and with your belief, inspiring me. I don't know how I earned your support, but I am so glad I did and that you were kind enough to give it. Thank you for standing behind me, for keeping me from falling. I love you.

Time

I blink. Blink again, but my eyes still sting and I'm still tired. No, I can't go to sleep. I'm not ready for tomorrow.
But, without my permission, a new day begins, right before my weary eyes.  Time keeps going. No matter how long I stare at it, it doesn't slow down. I can't stop its flow. It is content to pass me by and leave me behind, forcing upon me the unpleasant truth that I am barely a speck in its vast existence.
Wait, don't leave me behind. Don't destroy my illusion that time is mine to take. It hurts. It hurts to know that my continuance depends upon time, but time doesn't need me in order to continue. It is trapped by no one's grasp. Time entangles me.
I don't want to watch you pass, as a ghost watches the living and longs to be so. I want to leave things in the past, my own vapor trails. So, I jump into your rush, ready to live with what I am given, as long as it may last.

Limited

Limited. Surrounded by a world of possibilities, but I still feel limited. I can't explain it. I can't understand it. How do I fix it? It makes me feel broken, defective not to know the answer. I don't like having problems I feel I can't solve, especially a problem that seems like I can't ask for help with it. How can someone else make me feel unlimited?

I try to look, but I can't see all the "endless possibilities" that everyone seems to know exist. My sunny skies, bright no more. But, who is responsible for my sun? I have an urge to turn to others for my light when I know I should produce my own. But, admitting that I can produce my  own is admitting that I was the one who turned my light off in the first place. It is so much easier to believe that it's me against the world; Atlas has nothing on me.

Why is it so much easier to dwell upon the negative? Why is happiness something I have to work for? So I can truly appreciate it when I have it? If I know I want happiness, why do I keep myself from working for it? Am I afraid of it? Can you be afraid of something that is supposed to feel so wonderful? It's not as if the concept of happiness is foreign to me. I know how great it can be, yet for reasons I can't fathom I continue to refrain from being so.

Shouldn't being happy be as easy as flipping a switch, as easy to turn a light on as off, right? The mind can seem so flexible at times yet so completely rigid at others. It knows it can change yet refuses to do so.

But, perhaps it's only a matter of time. Maybe a mindset can only change gradually; its's not an instant gratification type of thing. So instead of reducing my life to minutes, maybe I should try to take it day by day. As the earth turns, I shall try to turn my mindset, working to start each day with a new one. Like that, each day can be its own, unique and unlimited once again.

Being Human

Today was one of those days. A day I felt so incredibly lucky to  be a human and to know other humans, to have thoughts and to know that I have thoughts, to be alive and to know I'm alive. It's knid of funny, I feel the most alive when I stop to remember that I AM alive. And, once I remember that most important fact, I can revel in it. I can pause to appreciate all of the opportunities that being alive affords me.

Being alive, I can have a story, share my story, and even be a part of someone else's story. This concept of stories is so amazing and lovely to me. It's the primary way we communicate. It's a way of being, the way of life. We are all striving to write our own good stories, and we should feel lucky to edit someone else's by being a part of their story. I like stories because they unite individuals while at the same time uniting the whole world, the entire human race. Even though there are 6 billion plus people in the world, and I will only ever meet a very tiny percentage of them, all 6 billion are a part of my story for the simple fact that because of them, I am not alone; and, together, we shape the human experience, mankind's story. Isn't that amazing? It makes me feel small, yet unstoppable at the same time, as if the common fact that we are all human suddenly makes the world smaller, even though I could never travel every square inch of it or meet all of its people. It makes the world seem closer at hand, it's inhabitants not as complicated or scary. 

Being alive, I can appreciate the good, the bad, and the ugly. For example, even though today's sky is overcast and people are hardly smiling and it could to some be considered an ugly day, I find it beautiful. And, I am so glad to be alive to witness this different kind of beauty, the beauty of a world that keeps turning no matter how often it cries, of people taking day one at a time. Even though today can be seen as gloomy, I see it as calm and relaxed, a world and people that are sure of their existence and place in the universe, who take for granted that they are alive. A kind of ignorance with a ghostly beauty, an ignorance not to meant to last.

Being alive, I can value the life of another. Whenever the life flight helicopter passes overhead, I stop to pray. Please. Let this person live. Let them have many years to come. But, if they must leave this world, please let them have at least one more day. Let their family have the chance to say good bye.

It's on days like these that, though I feel my story is happy, I think of those with sad stories, bad stories, and no stories. I can only hope that such stories change for the better. It's a most humbling thought; no matter how dearly I may want to, I can never make everyone's story as happy as mine. But, it never stops me from asking why. Why must we have sad stories? Is it so the rest of us may recognize our happy stories?

It is on days like this that I am glad that whether my story is happy or sad, I have a story I can finish as I please.

True Freedom

Your freedom is not real. Where you went wrong is when you asked someone else for your freedom.You cannot have your own freedom if you ask someone to set you free. By demanding your freedom from someone, you are begging with the assumption it was theirs to have in the first place. It was not. But, it is hard to realize this because your mind tells you that freedom is something that can be given. It is not. It is something that is taken, and you take it when you finally realize that it was you who originally gave it away. You gave it away the minute you demanded to have it back. When you demand it you are giving them the decision to grant or deny your request. How are you free when the decision is not yours? Now stop. Look again at this scenario and realize with whom the power truly lies. You. The power lies with you. When you demand your freedom, you give a freedom of choice to your "opressor." When you ask them for freedom, you give them the choice to forever hold you in their grasp. Now, just as easily, you can deny them this choice by never asking anything of them in the first place, by never acknowledging they ever had any kind of power over you. You can deny their choice by embreacing the truth that it is not their decision. It is yours.If you were truly free, would you even need someone to tell you so? No. When you are truly free, no one need tell you. When you are truly free, it cannot be described with words; you only know it is so, and you realize that your freedom was always there for you to take. Do you want to be free? Be free...because freedom is a mindset. Do you want to sit around and look for resons why the grass is greener on the other side? That's  a mindset too, a mindset that can never and will never set you free...because it will never let you see how green your grass already is. Differences exist because you choose to see them. Maybe you can argue that you see differences because they exist. Either way, it is still your mind that turns those differences into dividers. It is your mind that tells you to hate what makes you "different" and to envy what makes others "unique." It is your mind that blinds you from how enviable your own life already is. The solution? Change your mindset, not the world's mindset, just yours. It will take time for you to change your own mindset, and even longer for the world to change its, but length of journey should never be a detterent to its travel. So, start with you and the rest of the world will follow. When the world finally sees what freedom truly is, the world will choose to be so, that choice it's first act of freedom.

"Let him that would move the world, first move himself." -Socrates

"Be the change you want to see in the world." - Mahatma Gandhi

Start Again

I turn to glance at you, but you aren't there. I forgot. I forgot I left you behind. I forgot I left you somewhere else. Who will know what I'm thinking with just a meeting of the eyes? Who will understand me and remind me that I know myself? I make plans and wonder if you'll want to join me,but it doesn't matter. You aren't here. I forgot.


They say that at this new place I'll make friends, friends for life. Friends I'll miss so much that I'll be more than excited to return to see them again next year. But, making new friends almost seems like a betrayal to you, to the ones  I left behind. Yet, I have to admit that the prospect of meeting new people and the chance to enlarge my world excites me.


This new place has so many things to offer. Everyhting is so bright and shining and good. It makes me feel free and like I'm rushing towards a brilliant future that will far exceed my already grand expectations. However, this weightlessness is often countered by loneliness,a feeling as if I have left a part of me, almost all of me, behind. Who am I without the people who know me? It is through them that my identity exists. The people here do not know me. Do I exist?

Being here, I must start again. I must prove myself once more. I must make new people understand who I am. I must grow new roots though I still long for the taste of my home soil. Does this longing ever go away?


I must start again. The idea is frightening because in starting again, everything is reset. Possibilities become endless once again. I can remain the same or I can change. In heading towards a new future, I must leave things behind. Or, at least, that's what I thought.


But, in exploration of my longing for what now seems gone and my fear of flying brighter and unknown skies, I realize that nothing is left behind. I was shaped by who and from where I came. I am their Elizabeth. My begingings are always with me and by sharing myself, I share my beginings. With begingings I can have an end, an end I create within my present and future. And so, by starting again, I work toward a fusion of beginings and ends that when looked back upon may be called a good life, my good life.

Fear: Stuck in a Bind

Within a musical named The Civil War, there is a piece, "The Peculiar Institution." In this piece there is a group of lyrics that really speak to me. They are as follows:
       "And it feels more like dying than living when somebody ain't free."
Though these lyrics are apt to describe the situation the actor's are portraying, I feel they can also be applied to other situations. When the words are seen alone, out of context of the musical, their meaning can begin to relate to many situations. I consider fear to be one of the strongest binds against a person's freedom, and as the lyrics say, a life without freedom feels more like death.

With the conclusion that fear is an enemy of freedom and a restriction to a fulfilled life, I am similarly reminded of the poem "A dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes:        

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.Or does it explode? This makes me not only question the future of that deferred deam, but also further encourages me to ponder the future of the deferring dreamer. What happens to the people who defer their dreams? Why did they defer thier dreams? Did fear keep them from fulfilling their dreams? Do they die with the regret that they never sought to answer their greatest "what if" or greatest "I wish?" Do they die feeling as if they had never lived? Do they wish they had lived chasing their dreams rather than slowly dying in a nightmare? Do they find relief from the burden of regret only in death? And to think, that burden began with a bind: fear.

How much freer would they have been without fear clinging to their hearts and chaining their souls? Without that bind, life would have been their's for the taking, freedom absolute. If they had persued life in the fashion they had deepest wished, rather than as the aimeless wanderer fear had molded them into, they could have died knowing that they had lived. Their last breath, the freest they ever had.

Something Little

Have you ever stopped to think about that one random person who helped you out one time? Whether they were letting you out of a parking lot into the line of traffic, holding the door for you, or giving you a smile when they didn't even know you needed one? Do you ever think of that person whose name you didn't catch? I like to think that people have this desire to be remembered, and in an effort to to be so, they try to acccomplish big things, something that will have everyone knowing their name. But, today as I was remembering that one random person who helped me out one time, I realized you don't have to have a name to be remembered. Sometimes, it really is the little things that matter most, and I want that random person to know I didn't forget. Thanks. 

Fear and Other Limiting Mindsets

So today, as usual, I was thinking and this is what I’ve concluded: humans must molt mindsets the way snakes molt skin; it is necessary for survival, though it’s probably nicer to remain in a mindset most familiar. That comfort must be lost in order to grow. That comfort, given long enough, will become stifling, snuffing out not only our ability to grow, but also our ability to survive and thrive. However, we should not simply shed our old mindset and leave it behind to degrade; it was once a part of us and should remain as a reminder of where we’ve been, where we don’t want to return. New and fresh ideas are necessary for growth, and shed mindsets will serve as markers of the stale and narrow-minded concepts we no longer need. We can also apply this notion to fear; it’s a mindset we have to shed if we wish to become something great. Like the massive snakes which molted many skins to become so, molt enough mindsets and we’ll have impressive growth too. We can never grow if we continue to writhe in the stifling skin that is our all-consuming fear. So, shed the fear or die.

Betrayal

Betrayal. It’s what you suffered today. The worst part: it was from you. You thought it would come from anybody else, but not yourself.  Someone can only betray you if he or she is close to you, otherwise, it isn’t betrayal. It’s just someone who wronged you. Some stranger you don’t know, committing some crime against you, that you can take. That you can get over, but betrayal is a much deeper cut with a much stronger poison. So, by definition, if betrayal is something that can only be committed by one close to you, doesn’t it come as no surprise that you betrayed yourself the most? Who is closer to you than you? Who knows your thoughts other than you?