In the past few years I have had quite a few people read my blog. More than I had every thought possible It has been a great experience sharing my thoughts with so many people and from places around the world I have never even heard of. I know I am not always interesting and my words may not always be exciting. But they are just that, my words.
When I was a child, hidden away in my room writing, I realized that my words even put myself to sleep. So my mind would wonder and drift and before I knew it the page was full of words a little bent and slightly off track, but the story would grown into something far more interesting, It’s the same style of writing I use today. Those who read my blog regularly or have ever reads one of my books, short stories or poems know that absolute truth doesn’t always make the greatest story.
Everything I write about is taken directly from my personal life, whether it be that which happened to me or happened to someone around me, or even to someone a friend of mine knows. But I am not an investigative journalist. I have the freedom to twist and turn and compile characters as I see fit.
With that being said. If anyone reads my blog or stories and feels like I am writing about them, I’m not. I may have taken an incident that accrued and build a quip or a rant from the event. But actual characters do not walk around anywhere else but within the words upon the pages they are created on. Any resemblance is purely unintended.
You have to understand I lived in a box most of my life. Darkness was the only place I felt safe. My mother would come into my room in the morning to wake me up only to find me under the bed piled under a stack of blankets. I moved from under the bed to the closet later on. I rolled out a sleeping bag and slept every night hidden from the world. There was something about complete darkness and small areas that made me feel safe.
In the 20’s I rented a house out with three other people, We all had out own rooms but I would pull my mattress down to the utility closet and set up a room in there. When everyone else went to bed I would sneak down and crawl inside that room and sleep.
I’m not sure why I had to sleep that way. But in that world I worked so hard to keep dark and safe and small, imaginations flowed and poured out faster than I could possible contain them. I found myself writing constantly, every chance I could. Books, stories, poems, songs, it didn’t matter.
I also always felt awkward and out-of-place socially. So I spent a lot of time riding my bike instead of playing with other children. Always thorough a solitude of the night. I would sneak out of my bedroom window as soon as my parents were asleep. I would slowly pull my ten speed out to the road and start pedaling. One hour became two, then three. I would test myself and see how far I could go and still be back in my room by dawn. I would never use well-traveled streets. Always canyon roads and dirt paths. A few closed down highways and a couple abandoned parkways. Five miles, seven, twenty. forty. Always pushing myself further and further. I loved those rides. Flashlight tied to the handle bars. Only able to she the jerking light in front of me.
In my twenties I still craved that solitude. That’s what started my journey from one ocean to the other and back again. I started in Virginia and hiked all alone with just a small bag thrown over my shoulder and ended up in Seattle, Washington. Then I made my way down to San Diego, California where I traveled once again on foot, to Maine by way of New Mexico, Texas, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri and a handful of other states. I just kept walking, really had no destination or desire to end up anywhere.
But life has a way of stepping in and changing everything you ever knew about yourself. I am not alone anymore I have kids around me all the time. I work, I have friends, a good family. I crave the sunlight and the warmth is brings. Marriage is hard. it’s not easy letting someone in that darken room. Even though I do sleep on top of the bed these days. I figured that as long as I strived to be the best man I could be, worked hard to provide for my family, kept my ventures restricted to the fence that surrounds the house. Clean, cook, plan trips. Go to school functions, build person spirituality and encourage my wife and kids to do the same. If I just showed them love every day and showered them with hugs and kisses, everything would turn out perfect.
I guess what I never counted on was the worlds that those around me were living in. I always assumed that they were in mine. But it doesn’t really work that way. They may look at my world and just want to crush it. People who have no balance in their lives create worlds that also have no balance. It wobbles back and forth and moves around so much that if your not careful it’s going to come crashing directly into yours.
These words are mine and nothing more. I write them so I can create a balance in my life. I work out, I eat right, I write and read, and I love. The four most important things in my life. I strive for spiritual enlightenment by way of those four elements. But I did this for me. If you read my words and get upset by anything, maybe you see yourself within these words, maybe you can’t see yourself in them at all. Whatever it is you’re looking for can only be found in you. I can read and study all I want about true perception and about how to better Myself. But the truth is that every single bit of information about everything ever written is inside of you already. Inner exploration is the most important quest of all.
We just have to try our best to create our worlds around worlds compatible with our own. Otherwise it’s just a constant battle, which doesn’t do anyone any good.