Autopsy

Living the type of life I've lived, having grown up and matured as quickly as I did has taught me many things about life, love and most of all...compromise.

I've never regarded the glass being half empty or half full as any matter of concern, I have always only seen the glass and its condition and probability for being either a positive or negative force. That's about as black and white as I've ever been able to deduce particular facts in and around my life. And with all the wisdom I've gained, I've never considered myself in these regards, but rather that at least the majority of the affected be affected in the best possible way, whether that included me or not. And even if after dissecting my perspectives, my understanding is undermined by the deterrent of my compassion, then my wisdom will not forgive the scars that my compassion leaves behind.

So yes, I may reason and rationalize things in a manner consistent to that of running an autopsy...But the fact remains that the last thing I should be called is inconsiderate. The tears that filled the wells of my life have all been rich in the nourishment they got from all my considerations, and those wells have turned to dams which no strength in a wall can further contain. Yes, life is full of compromise, and once again I find myself at the end of one. And as is true to my nature, I have the choice of choosing to understand and decide based on what lies at the end of the microscope, or follow what my compassion drives me to believe but cannot quite clearly see through a blurred spyglass.

Seasons

As the last of the warmer seasons leave us, we suddenly feel the cold reality of life, moving swiftly by like a sudden rushing wind. And as the memories of our liveliness, so suddenly, fade to pale browns and greys, the bite of winter's breath reminds us that the old season is gone, and that its time to let go and face the even greater, frosty horizon. So too in my life I feel the sudden plunge that turns to a fast free-fall, as if my soft, leafy landing had vanished and all that remains is the deep and long abyss of simply living.

And there are times it seems that the elements of winter, such as deep chill of a quiet hush, and the crackling of frost as it envelopes us, all too quickly takes over the place that we once felt the warmth of the season we grew too used to being in. And like a thief in the night, the bite of winter has silently changed our surroundings, stolen what was left of our beautiful summer, and left us with the cold, unending night. But stepping into a new season is never easy, especially when the evergreen are all too fond of reminding us that we're simply out of place. Nothing more than bits of twine and twigs, without the lush of the green we once were clothed with, and completely fruitless in a season we suddenly realise we do not belong in.

But the truth that rings out is that with winter comes the rain, and the deep silence required to mourn the passing of a good season. A chance to rebuild and to regrow for the harvest yet to come. For there is no room for new beginnings, without letting go of the past. And there cannot be growth after a harrowing winter, if we're weighing ourselves down with the memories of a summer's past. So I'm appreciating the warmth I'm blessed with through the frost, to endure me beyond the winter till spring comes at last.

Equation

Its an interesting thing to consider, when one thinks of how to reason "purpose" in life. That if everything in the world can be summed up, rounded off, multiplied and divided, to a fraction of 'heaven', and somewhere in that enormous equation, still manage to find you. And if, like Einstein suggested, the world is simply made up of compressed, recessed, recycled and re-used energy, then how does one find purpose, for a purpose that is truly significant and special to you?

With all our mistakes, misdirections and imperfections in life, how is it we manage to find space for an unreasonable thing like love? For it in no way has an equation, or a reason or quantifiable reaction, nor does it have perceived methodologies that define it or bind it in any way. So then how do we describe it, define it, compose it or refine it, if there are no compounds to collate its unique sum?

The answer is simple and the equation is this, that love has no fraction or part in its whole. It can therefore only be defined by the source we find it most in, and can summarize its equation from the results we find in ourselves. And that no matter how the measure of your life seems at any point, that even the positives and negatives add up to the perfectly rounded you.

Hope For Courage

There are many things in this world that we may learn to fear. Especially when we live in a world that teaches us the value of things and exactly how to use people, how to treasure possessions and how much to love ourselves. But when we learn that fewer things give us courage, and that love gives us hope, then why place your love in a thing that decreases in value, and hope on a time that soon enough will pass?

Well, I've learned that the best place to store love, is to store it in people. The ones that can build the things that money cannot, and that can never decrease in value for as long as there is love. Yes, people can build memories, and hardly ever decrease in value, even if in their humanity, can make mistakes and turn love to hate. Then the key is to find one person who stores as much love in you as you do in them.

And I can say that at least I have a bank that treasures the thing I treasure most...My hope, my favourite memories, my values and my love. Because, courage is not the absence of fear, but the realisation that something, someone, is more important than fear. And that something, and someone, gives me something more than courage...Something to be courageous about...Hope...

Mended

A time will come when we have to surrender to the obvious, but oblivious fact, that perhaps beneath the porcelain plain of our deprived expression, and somewhere behind the masquerades of our poker faces, and buried deep within good intentions...Perhaps perfection is just the perception of what glue looks like when a man is broken.

Perhaps the only ties that bind a broken end to the part of a mended whole, are smiles and graces of wounded man, who stitched himself together with copious hours of work, and managed to hide his tears with laughter in an effort to numb the pain. And the truth is, eventually we become so used the reparations being in process, that we forget we ever have repairs to complete. Or is it just that we become so comfortable in our own brokeness, that we don't realise that we still have time for repairs?

A time will come when we have to realise that we cannot fix a thing, unless we acknowledge that it is broken. But understand that no matter how broken, there's a difference between you, and truly being beyond repair.

Desperation

There is a very fine line that sometimes separates the wants and needs in our lives. A veil between what is truly required in order to sustain a present or continuous level of being, and what our minds convince our hearts to long for in order to be complete. The divide between the desires of hearts and the restlessness of our minds. A line, a veil and a certain divide, all easily overthrown by the power of our own unwavering desperation.

Yes, the level of a man's desperation can drive him to many things, and at the same time hold him back from too many good things, can blind him from all the right things and sunder his conscience from realising which is which. For it is through desperation that he sees without sight, only the thing he wants, and not the obsession he is exposed to. And using the power behind its relentlessness can assure that man of his victory and failure in what matters most. Because what matters most is always seen from one angle, and every angle of perspective, but one perception which remains true. But even through perception, desperation lies to us, and throws what matters onto an alter as a sacrifice worth making for.

But ignorance does not excuse a man from what lies between the veil, beside the line and over the divide, for it either makes us human or in the worst case, inhumane. Desperation too has a price, that all too late, a man will bear, if he chooses it and uses it to get what he wants and leave behind what the soul truly needs. Like oxygen, truth is the sustenance for the soul, and if its not this need that desperation has led you to. In truth the thing we often fin ourselves desperate for is nothing more than a desire that's just not worth fighting for.

Flashback

There are times when I sit back and relax, and try to glance over the chapters in my life that have played a significant role in shaping and changing who I was at that time, and evolved and developed my way of thinking to the mindset I find myself living with today. And I often wonder if the choices I made were the best ones at the time, if they were only suited for that time, and whether or not they were right for my future, my current present or just the situation at that time. And like a photographer going through the stills of each deciding moment, the pinnacle of choice and the height of indiscretion, that perhaps I could've done more, or should have done less, that perhaps the quality of my results could have somehow been better.

It is in these times that I find profound meaning to Shakespeare's wise and poetic words. That "All the world is a stage, and the men and women merely players", and that in each defining moment, we pass into another simple 'act' and that each enlightening moment is just another chapter, and then perhaps each provoking choice is nothing more than a climax...standing at the brink of change...waiting for the eruption of a resolute fact. It is in this moment that we must realise, that time waits for nobody, and is always fleeting, and that whatever choices we do make, will ultimately become who we are, or at least how the world sees us.

Yes, life is like a script, a play, a film, a song or an unscripted moment. And every choice we make, we put ink to paper, song to sheets, and light to a strip along life's un-ending plain. And although life may seem un-ending, as individuals we must come to an end. So one day you'll find that heart-wrenching moment, much like pre-premier of a new blockbuster film...And on that day, when your life does flash before your eyes...the least you may want to do is make sure you're in for a good trailer. Define your life, each and every day, with each and every moment, in your own unique way.