Today...

You Missed Out

I couldn't sleep last night. Seriously, this has been going on for at least a week and I don't know what the deal is but I'm so grateful I got out of bed this morning instead of waiting for sleep to come. I finally fell asleep after 1 AM and then woke up just after 5 this morning. I cleaned my room and decided to watch the sun rise, like I used to when I lived in Hawaii. Here are some excerpts from my journal...


I decided to come outside and sit in the cool, calm of the morning and watch the sun rise. Wow. I definitely forgot about the stillness that you really, truly can't find except in those morning hours.


It's just beautiful. The clouds are so Heavenly.


I'm struck with the idea that I could, one day, create something so magnificent as this.


I can see the brilliance of the sun coming from behind the mountain.


The clouds are like fire but as the sun comes closer to rising, they go dark and colorless again.

Drowning

The thoughts like air bubbles
floating up from the dark abyss

They count the time
and steal seconds of life

The watery wasteland
I wallow within

His Time

But you promised!
I said.
(My voice is a squeak)
Tears sit, pulsating in the cracks of my eyes.
My torso wretches.
I remember - I remember so clearly!
You told me!
You said that the blessings were coming!
And here I've been waiting -
I've done everything!
Everyth-

Peace.
It shall come to pass in due time^*
Humble yourself therefore under the mighty hand of God,
That he may exalt you in due time.^*
Fear not:
Peace be unto thee,
Be strong,
Yea, be strong.^*

Freedominion

How is it that we fought,
So determined to gain freedom and
Once we have it,
We try to steal it from our enemies
Or claim it from who we deem unworthy to choose?

Too often the words we use are even
Sticky with the possibility of capture.
We must be so right
But if we aren't we will still have someone within grasp.
As we feel our freedom slipping
We snatch at others
As if freedom were a thing borrowed
- Not bought -

More thoughts? Go here: Jesus the Christ

Embrace

I cried yesterday.

It was as natural as turning a page and
Thinking about it,
I can't help but smile as my tears well up again.

I wonder where this wealth of emotion erupts from.
I weirdly don't mind it.


And now I listen to sweetly sad songs.


Where joy dwells...
Is it home to sorrow also?

Or perhaps
Through sorrow,
Joy.



I find both in my tears.

Great and Spacious

O! To the wailing wall of worry!
It calls.
It beckons,
In the weeping and waiting -
As it prowls with hunger
and desires the life of your soul.
Must you give it up?
Bit by bit like
Dropping petals from a wilted flower?
And
THEN
What have you?
As the sorrows consume you
With bitterness and sour laughter,
You scream from loneliness.
They never told you!
- you say -
You never knew!
The contract signed,
You walked towards it.
O! How it shrank with every step you took!

Guilt

I squished a spider today.
I didn't hesitate. I don't feel bad about it. I'd do it again.

Smile!

Did you know that there are over 30 different ways to smile? There is only one smile that is automatically recognized as genuine and it is as contagious as a yawn. Just by smiling, you will feel joy and those around you will get a percentage of that - even if they don't smile back. And that's not all. Just by making someone else happy, you will experience more joy than if you alone were happy. There are statistics that show that we get more joy from celebrating someone else's triumphs than from our own.
So smile!

A Girl

A girl got raped down the street from me the other day.
It was 3 in the afternoon.
It took her 3 hours before she could crawl out where someone would see her.
Her jaw is broken, among other things.
They say the guy probably thought she was dead or would be.
I can't help but wonder...
Did she always walk that path?
Did she see him coming?
Is she the type of person that carries mace at night,
like me?
Did she think she was going to die?
Does she have someone to take care of her now?
Are her parents nearby?
What will become of her?
Is she OK?

Joy and Sorrow

To have joy when another has joy - not just happiness or satisfaction - but true and pure joy is not so complicated. It is sometimes even involuntary, as the spirit of joy tends to effortlessly increase itself.

To sorrow when one sorrows.

What is inherent in this is sacred. This is the product of intimate spiritual connections with those around you. To feel so much hope for someone else and to really love them as you love yourself, is only true if you do feel their pain.

Dreamer

The smear of sunset's clouds in my eyes
I hear the birds' cheer
as feathery wind brushes my skin
Smell the creaminess of the plumeria
Taste the salt air as if it were my own breath
Below me,
pocked cement drowned in furry moss
My hands hold the line of the horizon
As the daisies smile into the cooling water

Doesn't It Sometimes Feel Like This?

Claim

I live out of a suitcase.
borrowed
I rid myself of clutter that i may
Live
Without preconception
I carry my belongings
that i do not
Belong To them
yet their only claim
is me.
I live out of an idea
That I
independent
may rely
but Forsake the rest

Small Talk

words sputtered in the leaky faucet
words
in the drip drip drip
lost
to open empty ears
I live in

desolation

surrounded by bodies
housing cobwebs
patterns like a child's cafeteria menu
full of bland tongues
licking at each others' faces
choked in fat

Established

Star-crossed
Lovers crash into each other
and deal out
their advice
like cards
seemingly equal.
the decks are set and they
Unknowingly hold the royalty
-never looking
at their own cards-
only the backs of others'
Pleased
with what they
See.

Buffalo.

So, I have come to the expansive and varied land of Utah for the National Undergraduate Literature Conference. This is like the junior varsity of professional conferences that professionals in the writing profession profess about. Apparently, as a person of writing interests (especially in the writing profession), this is not only a great resume plumper but also a venue to share your best works.
The conference is set up with 5 or 6 hours spread throughout the day of other competitors,and myself, presenting the work they submitted. We also have keynote speakers (persons who have some success being published in the writing field-though they may call it a "craft." I have heard that term used at least 5 times today) which fill about 2 hours. Between breaks for food and to allow brains to re-firm, The conference occupies the whole of our days.
Many of the presentation feature bored arrogance with droplets of diluted interest sitting before them, waiting their turn to flaunt a vapid sort of intelligence. At times the egos so bombard my attention span that they call my attention away from the "craft."
But there are moments. There are fresh glimpses of color and unexpected delights. Their minute appearances drown the pompous egos with a splash of crisp water.
They are the buffalo.

Heartbreak Reality

You have about 90 percent control over your mood. While this is a statistic, and statistics are unreliable at best, this is also a statistic I made up. No one can tell you how much control you have over you mood and general disposition. I can't tell you. I would guess that I have about 90 percent control over my own mood and generalize it to you because of my general intelligence and pride.
You may feel like you only have 10 percent control over your mood and reactions. If that's what you believe, you are absolutely right. In essence, I'm trying to tell you that you are a dynamically powerful being and that your mind is capable of directing your body in the direction you want it to go. Adrenaline, Estrogen, Habit, Testosterone: Nothing if you use the power you are given. It is only up to you to exercise the authority over the illusions misting around you and take control over yourself.
Connect body and spirit and become soul.
Become soul.

Frustration

I'm at the beginning.
You know how books often start right at the beginning of a problem? Not always, but sometimes they do. The more boring beginnings start right in with lots of background to "set the stage" but the better books find ways to grab you, to suck you into the story so that the mundane background info becomes as important to you as reliving your own history. It breathes richness into the attention-getting "grabber" of a beginning.
And you can see that the story is going to get better, meatier. Like a plump little calf you just know is going to be the biggest, juiciest walking steak you have ever seen! Well-I'm a vegetarian so I guess its like asparagus-no-a strawberry that you just know will get so plump and ripe... Yeah, that image just doesn't work as well for vegetarians. Sorry.
Anyway, the problem with this problem is that it is just that-a problem. You don't live the stress of the character as their life falls apart. Sure, you may sympathize but mostly you take on the attitude of a full-grown man that laughs at footage of another man getting hit in the double-nubles in a "I'm so glad that wasn't me way."
I guess my point is that I don't even have someone to read my life story and chuckle uncomfortably when things go wrong. I think I deserve it, too! At least that.
Well, unless I'm in a tragedy. Then I guess my life-book would bring no relief to either me or my reader.
Huh.

Blind

You say there is darkness in the light
Like a shadow that sneaks onto your path before the sun hits.
The shadow is your own.
You let it taunt you
With its delicious fear.
Its sweat is a tinge in your nose,
A sour undertone and tightness in your muscles.
You mustn't sleep.
Stand watch for the darkness
That comes in the light.

Depends

I rely on you
To tell me I am nothing
That I may prove you wrong.
Without you
To tell me I am nothing
Who am I to prove?

I rely on you
That I may believe in me.

Routine VS Spontaneity

I feel like we need a healthy balance of new experiences and consistency in our lives in order to be truly healthy. I got started on this thought because I'm SICK of my "favorites" playlist. They've all turned into the same as the popular songs you hear one an hour on the radio. So I went on iTunes and browsed for some new artists. I found Spoon and Florence + The Machine and I am ecstatic! There's nothing like the unexpected to make you appreciate your existence.
This isn't limited to music, or even clothes or routines. It's something our minds need to remind us we are living and changeable beings. I feel like our minds can get into ruts where we believe we can only function or exist in one way and that is a slow death for our minds. The activity of questioning ourselves and our roles in the grand scheme allow us the space to vary in our routines without losing the stability of knowing who we are- as long as we have some principle basis.

Waiting for a Tsumani

There's a certain excited anticipation that becomes contagious when you get warning of an impending natural disaster. I don't know if it has more to do with the realization that you really don't know what will happen or the adrenaline that we get from fear. In any case, you can learn about yourself in these situations.
I surprised myself. I always considered myself someone who would be calm under the pressure of surprise-and I was right-but there's more to it than that.
As I debated on the seriousness of the threat of a tsunami, the thing that sparked me into action was the realization of how my inactivity may affect the people around me. 1. If I didn't take it seriously, how many other people may not? 2. I was prepared but how many people I know don't know what to prepare in situations like this? 3. Who do I know that may not know about the possible danger?
These were the things that motivated me. I wonder sometimes if my propensity to try to help and save everyone else is sometimes at a cost to myself. Is it self destructive? I don't know yet...

Once Upon a Movie Set

So, I magically became an extra on the set of Soul Surfer filming at Turtle Bay this last week. That was interesting. I got to see some big stars, hang out with quirky people and got paid to get a tan.
It's funny how people's personalities meld when they are gunning for camera time. Don't get me wrong, I was totally trying to sneak my way into the line of the camera, too- it's just a shame that the pride of fame can get people into interesting situations.
Photo: http://www.film-festival.org/SoulSurfer.jpg

All I Believe In - Amadou & Mariam & The Magic Numbers

I may never ever find an answer
I may never ever find the cure
I may never risk another lover
Oh, believe me

I may never ever walk on water

I may never ever walk away
I may never get the chance to tell you
Oh, believe me

Oh my heart, I want you to be strong
I need you to be all I believe in
Oh my heart, I want you to be strong
I need you to be all I believe in

I may never wait to see tomorrow
I may never learn to seize today
I may never ever ask forgiveness
Oh, believe me

I may never ever rise above it
I may stumble as I lose my way
I may never find the words to tell you
Oh, believe me

Oh my heart, I want you to be strong
I need you to be all I believe in
Oh my heart, I want you to be strong
I need you to be all I believe in...

Clown

Why do you set our expectations
So low?
Is your hope so distant-
A mirage in a scorching sea?
As though we would not see you
Through your mask,
Your eyes burn
Sad
Above a plastic smile.
Borrowed-
Bought
With our violence.
Your laugh-a dry well,
You have nothing to quench the fire.
You worry in your smoldering
That the light cannot find you
And you will be swallowed,
May the bile consume you,
In the same nightmare-
Your life.

Bags

These bags are bloated with tears
Heavy and deep blue
With salty rain
Sleeping under my eyes.

Your lack of words prick them
And they spout like balloons,
Water
In a frozen stream.

Left empty and bruised
Under eyes that devour the world,
These thread-bare bags.

Eve-wa

This is my friend's daughter, Eva. It never fails, every time I'm holding her in public someone will come up and say "Oh she's so cute! How old is she?" Now, this isn't very odd because she's really adorable and loves people and basically makes friends everywhere she goes. The weird thing is that she isn't mine and people will automatically assume she is. Sometimes even when she's walking around and me and her Mom are both right there, they will think she's mine.
There are lots of reasons that this could happen: Eva and I have been BFF pretty much for a year and a half and she's a little over 2 years old. We've spent lots of time together so she's very comfortable with me and I with her. People probably pick up on that pretty quickly.
Also, her Mom is a mix of Samoan, Hawaiian, Chinese, and white and her father is all white. Eva looks like she has at least 1/2 white in her so I could possibly be her mother if her father had at least 1/2 pacific islander in him.
But here's the part that trips me out: Me and Eva do kind of look alike. Maybe as much as her mom and her look alike. So, it makes me wonder if I'm getting a preview of what my kids could look like. It's so weird being someone who is probably years away from having her own kids to see what my kids might actually look like. I mean, if they look like Eva I'm sure lucky cause everyone that ever meets her thinks she's the cutest kid ever. She is. And I don't think I'll be one of those mothers that if I have ugly kids I'll be in denial about it. I'd know.

Flying Through Water

I finally tried surfing. I LOVED it!
So that part where the wave starts to lift me and my board gets me every time and I just look down at my hands on the edge of the board and watch the water fall from under me- so trippy. It made me miss a bunch of waves...
But I did catch 2 that gave me that extra buzz of adrenaline and really made me want more. I could have stayed out all day- that is, if my arms let me.

Blue Grass

So last night I went to see this bluegrass band play in town (that's Honolulu for those who don't know). It was such a cool spot! It was in this little old lady's attic, who was a Russian immigrant and had continued her husband's love of music after he died.
So the attic was this awesome open space with dark wood supporting a white ceiling and tons and tons and tons of people were there and they were all just there to have a great time listening to some talented musicians and hang out.
I never thought I would like bluegrass and always thought of it like country music's cousin with more fiddle. This band was awesome! I don't know if they changed my mind about bluegrass, I mean we can cross that bridge when we come to it, but they were so talented that I didn't even think about the music style after I got over myself.
I really needed that though. The atmosphere was so different from what I have allowed to loom over me that it reminded me of those first days of spring. I remember sitting in my seat in middle school feeling the cool breeze come in the window for the first time since the East Coast snow melted and imagining I was outside with the sun warming my face.

Broken

I'm addicted to tragically sad movies. Movies about drug addicts who sell their souls for a dime bag or about death and lost loves. The kind that dangle hope in front you even though you know from the beginning that depression, destruction, and desolation are the only outcomes. These are the movies that trick you with playful lines of music as the illusion of happiness floats in front of the characters. But everyone dies in the end-either literally or metaphysically.
It's the same thing when I see a bird with a broken wing or a dog with a limp. I know it's probably better off with a quick death but I only want to take the pitiful creature and cover it with cartoon band-aids and kisses. Even bugs with missing wings or leggies make me wish I could find a bandage small enough to fix them.

What a Do About Nothing?

I feel like I have wasted my whole week. It's not like I didn't do anything but coming out a week from a week ago, I feel like this week was wasted.
It's harder than I thought it would be to be out of school. Well, maybe it is what I expected, more or less. I knew the hardest part is that there are no deadlines. I like deadlines. They work for me, help me. I like the feeling of pressure as they come closer and the push to maximize time and get as much work done as you can in a short amount of time. It makes me realize the value of my free time and appreciate that freedom.
I feel like school helps me walk the path to where I want to be. Without it, it's like I forget how to get to that place and why I want to be there so badly. I KNOW I want to be there, it's just harder to remember why.
It's ironic to think that being out of school is so much more of a challenge than being in school. Or maybe it's not....It's only been a week since I've been back.

Bod

I've realized that my body is built to be strong and to endure. I am naturally built with muscle. I'm stronger than a lot of the girls I've worked out with and have had some boyfriends that I thought I could beat up, if I tried. My calves alone have led to lots of questions from male workout buffs (no pun intended) about how much I squat and what it took me to get those sweet muscles. But I've always had them. You can see them in pictures of when I was 4. It only takes like 2 weeks of working out to get some real definition back when I haven't worked out in like 6 months, too.
This all used to bother me when I was younger. I always weighed about 20 pounds more than other girls my size. I felt bulky and awkwardly unfeminine. To make matters worse, the eating habits in my home led me to be overweight. I always just ate whatever I wanted-and lots of it. I never really played outside either so my exercise was finding the remote and searching for more goodies to munch on. That's lifestyle. That was my life style for over 20 years.
So I've come to love my body. I can swim and run and lift and learn new exercises. I'm still not at a healthy weight, even when looking at things like percent body fat instead of BMI but I'm on my way. And it feels really good. I like pushing my body and changing my habits. I wish I had realized how good this feels earlier in life but, either way, it just feels good.

Aquatic Statue

Leaning back against the boulder, his feet are carelessly waiting on the riverbed.
His socks are like moss, a cascade of dark hair jets out from it's hiding place halfway up his calves.
The endless outpouring of hair flows over his ears and drips onto the arrayment on his arms.
His back is broad and muscular, bound by a black tee-shirt.
His voice whines in his nose like wind squalling through a narrow tunnel.
His trickling eyelashes splash when he blinks.
And he is unaware, thinking of what awaits him in his guitar case.
Perhaps his puddle of sideburns accumulated in the wrong creek.

For My Post Modern American Literature Class..

Pool
I woke up with his bronzed arm in full view next to me. In his sun-drunken sleep, his chest rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. The sun had started its descent, leaving behind a shady calm. After the last few intense, heat-filled days, I sighed in the deep relief of the quiet air.
"Hey, love, how long do you want to stay out here?"
"You woke up! I thought you would sleep for hours."
He smiles his charming smile, and I lean over to give him a peck on the cheek, then the mouth. I lift his hand so that I can study it as closely as I study the emotions that surface on his face. He holds my hand as carefully and lovingly as a hen with her first egg, while I examine his scars. The pink vulnerability contrasts against his dark skin. I will leave him soon, I know. I am torn between the sweetness of his touch and the bitter regret in my future. He draws my eyes in with his and I can't help but beam across the breeze. After holding the moment a bit longer than comfortable, I say, "Let's go."

Studying
The glow from his computer cast an unforgiving white-blue filter over his face. His features, usually warm and pliable like a child's, seemed foreign. I kept half my attention on my homework, sitting sideways to face him on the cream couch, my toes tucked just under his leg. Every few minutes he turned his head to look at me. A smile accented his lips every time, as if he'd dreamt of me and was still surprised I ever showed up. The night air barely whispered freedom in through the window. In the dim light, his fingers moved quickly over the keys with mechanical precision. The tap-tapping a sort of beat that was sometimes unpredictable.

Park
We had been fighting, the heat closing in on us under the street lights. Our emotions sparked in the closeness of the space.
I had pleaded with him, begged him to leave me. Mild convulsions shook my body as I leaned up against the car; the tears streamed silently. He paced in front of me, back and forth like a pendulum. His brow tight with thought, I couldn't look him in the eyes. My own were seeded with mourning.
Finally-
"I can't lose you."
And with that, he drew his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. I gave in, relieved that it was over.

Class
He brought her today. I saw him from across the room, between the heads occupying each desk. It was a few minutes before I saw that they were holding hands; I wouldn't have noticed her if they hadn't been, but they fit together like puzzle pieces.
He looked like a clouded memory. She looked like that girl on tv he once said he liked. I didn't understand his attraction to her at the time but seeing him next to HER, he didn't look boyish anymore.

Driving
He opens my door for me and guides me into the seat, his hand on the small of my back. I watch him, with a sigh, as he circles to the driver's side, but a smile plays on my lips. The sun has faded in the sky and orange and purple mingle in the clouds, a conversation I can't hear. A warm breeze follows him in as he slides into his seat. He starts the engine and automatically reaches over to place one hand on my knee, his silent claim. His eyes narrow to focus on the dimming street.
"Do you want me to drive, babe?"
He smiles crookedly and gently shakes his head. We ride in the ripe silence, each of our minds playing on different ideas.

Halloween
Our faces plastered with wide smiles instead of masks, we were taking videos throughout the night, well, he was. I wonder if he kept them. The pillow strapped under my dress had me sitting several inches taller than him as we drove to the party. His pillow was tucked in between him and the steering wheel like a homemade air-bag. All while getting ready, we had spoken to each other in our "old cogger" voices, mine always tending to sound a bit British. We called each other by our middle names that night, like 50 years of marriage would wear on the use of our first names, or maybe to distance us from the dream. We were giddy and boisterous, like two children who share a secret.
We met up with my roommate and her boyfriend, barbie and ken, and then mingled with the witches and Monty Python characters for a while. Later we drifted out to the gazebo and watched over the dying excitement. The noise still so filled our ears that we gazed in silence, his hand covering mine.

Vacation
I went away,
A week or more.
The snow separated us.
My days were filled with simmering anger when you didn't call.
You were always in the back of my mind, like a mosquito bite.
I wanted to scratch out your memory;
I wanted you to ache for me,
For my absence to finally unravel you.
But you did call-
I made myself tease you and laugh at you to show that I was strong.
And I missed you.
I was tortured inside.
I felt my day of renewal at hand,
My stomach in knots.
And then I saw you-
And felt nothing.

Mediums

So I have finally discovered the magic of photo editing! I only wish I had photoshop and knew how to use it. If I had unlimited funding, I would probably buy an awesomely expensive camera and spend a year or so learning to take and develop and edit my own photos. I know there's that saying "A picture's worth a thousand words" and it's sooo cliche to say it (or type it) but I sometimes think that's very true. And I'm a writer! I got my degree in english and have spent years of my life agonizing between various things I was working on and the thesaurus.
I do pretty well with writing and getting my ideas, and sometimes feelings, on paper but I really wish I had more artistic ability. I can find colors that go well together and do some really cool things with makeup. I take pretty decent photos. To take a blank sheet of paper and create a whole picture from an image or idea befuddles me. I will stare at that paper and can only start when I have something to go off of and then it's a distortion of the original. It's really kind of funny too because I have SUCH an imagination. (It's called ADD). When people are talking to me and telling me stories about their day, I see all those things in my head. It's like watching a movie in your head, you see the important parts very clearly but the background fades away. When I really think about it though, it's like I am half seeing and half feeling them. The only way I can think to describe it is that the pictures are fuzzy but what I feel in them and through them makes up for it.

Cry Baby

So I watch Grey's Anatomy. I was introduced to the Anatomy a couple years ago and after watching 2 episodes, I went out and rented the seasons I missed. I admit, I know.
The other thing you should know is that I am not a crier. OK, I wasn't really a crier until recently. When I was younger, I wouldn't even cry by myself, let alone in public. I got to the point where I couldn't even make myself cry when I wanted to get all those emotions out. I would sit in front of the mirror and try to stare myself into submission but to no avail.
I've been softened over the years. Now I cry, sometimes. Probably no more than like twice a month so don't get all excited, but I have a few different things that will draw those tears out: if I'm really REALLY sad, if I'm having a spiritual experience, or if I have a really great conversation and feel like we've made a genuine connection- that one is my favorite.
Then there's Grey's Anatomy. When I watch that show, it's like someone stepped on my foot, told me my cat got run over, and then cut a pound of onions under my nose.
I don't know. I don't get it.
That's all.

Competing Charity

It seems to me that at the very hint of competition, charity disappears. To me, they seem exact opposites. Let me give you my definitions; it will help a little.

Charity: the desire of one person to help another being out of love and, in the act, forget oneself.

I think this is any and every situation where we feel we should do something or say something to another person because we deeply KNOW it is a selfless act that will help that person in the way they need it the most. I want to note- It is sooo hard to follow this impulse! I just had a feeling today to say something to a family member that was simply a thank you and I didn't do it. This person has done a lot of work for me and my whole family for the holidays and I have seldom volunteered help without being prompted. To my knowledge, a sincere thank you may be the sign that this person has not done all this work in vain. Outside of my knowledge, this person could have a bunch of problems and need a simple message of: I see you, I hear you, and I love you. I don't have a good excuse for not saying thank you, though I'm sure I could come up with a whole slew of excuses that are just waiting to make me feel better but the fact is: I had the feeling I should say it and I didn't because of my own weaknesses.

Competition: using a comparison of oneself to another person in order to emphasize one's own strengths and the other person's weaknesses and create a hierarchy with one's self at the top.

I think this can be any tiny, tiny inkling of resistance to another person's needs and vulnerability. It doesn't have to be any action, though it usually leads to some competitive activities, whether in gaming or in every-day activities.

While I don't think that every motion that is not charitable towards another person is strictly competitive, I do think that competition is either at the base of the movement or will evolve from it.

And think about all the topics that, in their very nature as we use them in society, encourage competition! Religion, race, politics...

I have seen that you can talk about any of these edgy topics under the guise of philosophy without the same depth of competition, if we are willing to let go of those indoctrinated communications that we are so used to.

Maybe it is not even so much the label but the way we have become accustomed to communication within those labels. We get stuck in these ruts of seeing only the path before us, and if the other person does not travel in our same path of dirt, we simply are blinded by the dust of our own frantic feet, as we try to make our destination. We become so focused on the things we want to say or things we think that we leave no room for the views of other people and that literally eliminates truth from existing in our experience of that conversation.

How many times is that our experience in everyday life? What are we missing out on because of it? How much do comparison and competition interfere with the charity that we are all capable of?