I'm a Warrior. Motivator. SURVIVOR;
Welcome to my journey. I hope it inspires you to find The Light in your own Darkness and the voice to speak your truths.
There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza. There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, there’s a hole. Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, FIX it! With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza? With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
While I’d originally made this live video this past Wednesday, June 21st, and was planning to drop it here in The Diary that day, while I was scrolling around on the World Wide Web in search of the perfect image as the cover, I happened upon THIS gem diddy of a nugget:
So, I ended up back-dating it a few weeks in honor of it’s this officially official “National Hole In My Bucket Day”! Who woulda ever THUNK IT? Meanwhile, Hi everyone, it’s me, HENRY! While, indeed, it’s true that the proverbial bucket your mama delivered you in was never gonna perfect or pristine once humanity and life in general got a hold of you, you can, indeed, make yourself WHOLE again.
So, grab yourself some metaphorical E600 miracle fix all and start a patchin’, spackelin’ and pluggin’ all those “toxic trait” leaks ASAP!
… but (ps):
In case you didn’t already know this by now, that “miracle adhesive” is the beautifully flawed, EPIC human disaster of a MASTERPIECE you see standing in the mirror, and the manufacturer of that wonder compound is The Master who created you in the first place. Look for His blood-soaked paintbrush, my friends! He’s just waiting to hand you that ever-loving tube of the best permanent cement that is currently not on the market courtesy of His son, Jesus, whose grace and forgiveness are the main ingredients!
Call your name every day when I feel so helpless. I’ve fallen down, but I’ll rise above this, rise above this. I’ll mend myself before it gets me.
{Seether}
Thank you to those of you who have reached out to me this last week, even though I haven’t returned a SINGLE call or text. I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Imma be alright, though. Not only do I have no other choice, but I wouldn’t even WANT another choice. Falling and rising over and over again are what I was meant to do.
Who wants to guess what THE best argument I’ve ever had was?
Wait for it …
Wait for it …
DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! The best argument I’ve ever had is the ones I never had by simply refusing to argue. I’m not gonna lie, folks – the demon on my shoulder that still rears its head now and then loves it when the people who want me to argue with them only get a smirk and laugh they can’t hear but KNOW is happening in my head when they’re trying to take me toe to toe on something but they can’t! I WIN! THEY LOSE!
If you’ve never felt the utmost power of not giving people the satisfaction of letting them revert you back to the toddler you once were who couldn’t control their emotions, I cannot recommend it enough. Once you’ve felt it, it actually becomes addictive, and the mastery of your OWN art of war will reach new and epic heights. It’s the “Art Of War” SUPREME, my friends, and it probably makes Sun Tzu smile even bigger than those little trolls from our dark side that we keep on a leash do! Why not give it a try?
Jean-Claude Van DAMN, my kid’s an ACTUAL genius! Meanwhile, just as true as Darwin said that only the strong and most adaptable of a species survive, your goal should be to become the strongest and most adaptable of the strong and adaptable, such that the others have to adapt to you! THAT, my friends, is what will set you far above and apart from even the strongest of “survivors”. Be the one who bends just enough to never ever break, and let them bend to YOU! Just sayin’.
My time is on its’ way … I’ll fall, but I won’t break. The road I walk is paved with broken promises I’ve made. At least a million times I’ve fallen, but NEVER will I break!
I don’t who needs to hear this right now, but NOTHING will destroy a child’s future, if not HUMANITY in general, better than being birthed of the womb of an ACTUAL spawned of the devil “mother THING”.
… because if you you’re a women who’s given birth and sleeps well at night knowing that, NO, your heart does not live inside your own body anymore, and NO, it will never will again, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry to say you’re probably not doing it right. Dare I mention, most ashamedly, those countless times in my foolish youth when my own mother would say those words that are impossible for anyone to understand unless or until they’ve given birth:
I can’t sleep until I know that you’re home safe.
When I was a teenager, then off to college and on my own, I’d just roll my eyes and think she was being dramatical. Now that I’m a mother? Those words hit pretty hard! No momma worth her weight in love rests a single day in her life unless she knows her babies are “safe inside“, even when they have their own babies.
Regardless of how strong my faith in God has been, is now, or will ever be, there has yet to be a single day as a mom that I haven’t incessantly worried about my kids. This includes the waking and sleeping hours of all my pregnancies, and even worrying about “my other kids“. Motherhood changes you forever, and is, perhaps, the most beautiful of all double-edged swords. Studies have shown:
Mothers around the world say they feel like their children are still a part of them long after they’ve given birth. As it turns out, that is literally true. During pregnancy, cells from the fetus cross the placenta and enter the mother’s body, where they can become part of her tissues.
I am here to tell you that yes, it is true, that we mothers really do “feel” our children long after they leave our wombs, which is why I believe that when they say, “a mother is only as strong as her weakest child”, said weakness isn’t just psychological … it’s physiological, too.
“The Hood”.
It’s the single most important job in the world:
Still, the sobering truth is that it’s the woman’s hand that was meant to rock the cradle. We’re the Earth, the Sun, the Moon, the stars and the entire effing COSMOS to the babies we bear, and even wild animals know this to be true and often do much better jobs of raising their children than some of the “things” with wombs.
If you were blessed to have been hired for “the job” that simply ain’t for the faint of heart, be proud, HANG TOUGH, and cut yourself some slack when necessary, because walking around the face of this often wicked place with your own raw heart in shaking hands on a ground covered with broken glass isn’t easy.
To all my mom friends out there: I SEE YOU! Just because we don’t all speak out loud about how we all spend every waking and sleeping hour fending of the nightmares we have about the things that can hurt our kids – EVEN WHEN THEY’RE 30 – it doesn’t mean we don’t all understand this unspoken bond of “The Mother HOOD”. This beautiful little “Hood nugget” moment from late last December between my own mother and all of us posted below is but a prime example of exactly what I am saying. HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MOM! We all love you … “food-pushing” and all!
To My Babies On This,
My 30th Mother’s Day:
If for some reason I forget to tell you this today: THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT OF BEING YOUR MOM! It has been and will always be my utmost and highest calling, privilege, and honor. I love you both to The Moon and back!
ONE HEARTBEAT AT A TIME
You’re up all night with a screaming baby. You run all day at the speed of life. And every day you feel a little bit less like the beautiful woman you are. So, you fall into bed when you run out of hours, and you wonder if anything worth doing got done. Oh, maybe you just don’t know, or maybe you’ve forgotten … YOU … you are changing the world one little heartbeat at a time. Making history with every touch and every smile. Oh … YOU … you may not see it now, but I believe that time will tell how YOU … you are changing the world one little heartbeat at a time. With every, “I know you can do it”, and every tear that you kiss away. So many little things that seem to go unnoticed … they’re just like the drops of rain, over time they become a river. And YOU … you are changing the world one little heartbeat at a time. Making history with every touch and every smile. (Steven Curtis Chapman)
NOTHING ‘BOUT ME IS ORDINARY!My friends all say I’m going crazy. I don’t hear a word that they say! ‘Cause the voices in my head are legendary, but I’ll never tell ’em where the bodies are buried. Keeps them coming back every day!
You took a shot to the chin? Looks like you just can’t win in this do or die situation. And it’s harder than it seems to survive, keep alive, and make your dreams all come true. Oh! You gotta give it your best shot! Give it everything you got! Oh! You gotta hang tough!
Sometimes love can make you blue … a heartache made just for you … but you can’t let it bring ya down. If you should stumble, if you should fall, PICK YOURSELF BACK UP OFF THE FLOOR! Fight for what’s right and stand your ground! Oh! You gotta give it your best shot! Give it everything you got! Oh! You gotta hang tough! When the goin’ gets rough … hang tough! Keep your head above the ground!
Don’t you let it get you down!
Don’t stay locked away inside your room, even though you know what this world is comin’ to. Hummingbird hums ’cause he don’t know the words, and the piper will play, ’cause he don’t know what to say. He’s a lot like you, yeah. Oh, he’s alot like you, yeah. He tries hard every day to be free and fly away. Yeah! HANG TOUGH!
Say my name and watch the fire grow! Curse my name – a demon gets its horns See my face – the one behind my eyes. I’m a son of a bitch. I’m as bad as it gets … and I’ll be that ’til I die!
… and JUST like that, I done gone and flipped my fuckin’ lid!
I … am NOT … playin’ anymore!
Don’t get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe that we are ALL entitled to do, say, think, and BE anything we fuckin’ want, up to and including a miserable sack of “Oh, poor, sad, whiny, no one loves me” VICTIM BULLSHIT!
Look, if sucking all the lollipops, rainbows, and not always so easy to find SUNSHINE out of your family, friends, and even VIRTUAL strangers who happen to stumble upon your parasitic drain of an existence is the only way you can manage to survive, then, so be it! DO YOU, BOO! Just don’t expect THIS bitch to stick around too long to wallow in your cesspool pity party with you! I can just love you from a distance, ’cause I don’t owe anyone NOTHING!
At the end of the day, while, indeed, it seems that sometimes misery truly does love, if not THRIVE on company, I can Jean-Claude Van DAMN promise I’m NOT the one! Life’s too fuckin’ short to spend it basking in the company of crepe-hanging buzzkills!
Are you focused on what YOU are after? The key to YOUR next open chapter?
I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but not only is no one gonna steal The Sun for you, but literally, no one else can! Loving yourself and SAVING yourself are inside jobs my friends. Yes, they are choices! YES, THEY ARE ALLOWED!
In case you didn’t know this already, there’s enough of Her to go around for all of us! She can shine simultaneously in infinite spaces and lifetimes and illuminate our independent universes at once. She’s kinda magic that way, so, there’s no competition necessary or need whatsoever to dampen or extinguish anyone else’s sunshine.
If you’re that cranky parasite running around out there that no one wants to be around, who literally make peoples’ skin crawl with an ass ugly scowl permanently etched across your face, or worse yet, who people are gonna have to find a way to “fake cry” through your funeral one day, DO BETTER! Do ya hear me? Being a toxic wasteland of a sunshine killer is fucking gross, I’m tellin’ ya! IT’S GROSS!
Are you malignant “misery” just waiting for a place to happen and don’t even wanna try to get out of your own way and CHOOSE joy? Well, then do the rest of us who are mindfully and willfully making the best of our humanity gig here beneath The Sun a favor, just stay the fuck home and save us all from YOU!
Lol! Why do you think I keep this little circle of mine so small rather than trying to win a bunch of friends and followers by jumping onto everyone else’s bullshit and misery bandwagons? I’m in this game to KILL it, not to win any popularity contests. Lol, perhaps if I was better at “peopling” or could fake a better personality that mirrors everyone else’s, I’d have a much bigger platform by now. But alas, if it isn’t making me a better person, serving, equipping, fortifying and educating me, or aligning with the path that I’m forging, I’M OUT before I’m IN and want absolutely nothing to do with it!
So, with that, I’mma just be SCREAM singing this epic tune all this live long day today in my ever so carefully curated blissful oblivion and staying focused on the key to MY next open chapter and noone else’s!
(pSs)
This is yet another one of those songs that has earned a place in this Diary more than once!
In closing, while in the process of writing this to you, I think I’ve discovered that in a way, these words are not just from me to you, but from me to me. It appears that we are both standing at a crossroad right now, aren’t we? Congratulations my graduate, I LOVE YOU! It’s time for you to FLY FROM THE INSIDE!
Is the weight of the world on my shoulders? Is the weight of the world on my shoulders? On my shoulders … All alone I pierce the chain. And all in all the sting remains. And dying eyes consume me now. The voice inside screams out loud, I am focused on what I am after. The key to the next open chapter. Cause I found a way to steal the sun from the sky. Long live that day that I decided to fly from the inside. Every day a new deception. Pick your scene and take direction. And all in all I search to connect. But I don’t wear a mask and I have no regrets. I am focused on what I am after. The key to the next open chapter. ‘Cause I found a way to steal the sun from the sky. Long live that day that I decided to fly from the inside. I can’t escape the pain. I can’t control the rage. Sometimes I think that I’m gonna go insane. I’m not against what’s right. I’m not for what’s wrong. I’m just making my way and I’m gone. {Shinedown}
Lift me up above this. The broken, the empty. Lift me up and help me to fly away. I’m gonna change history … enlighten the world … teach ’em how to see through my eyes. I’m gonna lash back … check that fate as a heart attack … stomp out all the ugliest lies!
In honor of this 10th birthday of one of THE most epic phoenix battle cries of all times, here’s to all the ones like ME who say:
FUCK all those ashes this world tried to DUST me in!LIFT ME UP!
… then find the strength to pick themselves back up off a ground that was meant to keep them there in pieces and RISE! Just sayin’.
Some of you may just see a picture of some random black bird sitting on a statue, but I see a bold and brazen corvid staking the claim of one of the most powerful rulers in history, Charlemagne, “King Of The Franks”, the father of Europe.
With that, and in honor both this gloriousInternational Crow And Raven Appreciation Dayand my fascination with corvids, allow me to introduce you to Karlsson, a friend and backyard resident of one of my friends and fellow “crowpagandists”, Spitfire Sparky. She snapped these epic shots of him in front of a Hamburg, Germany church in her area.
Meanwhile, good King Karl, who’d have ever thunk that a CROW would take your crown? Surely you must have missed the memo that one should NEVER cross a crow!
“Some people” do understand people and “some people” simply do not. In my opinion, the people who do understand people the most are those who understand themselves. Which is not to say that understanding ourselves is always easy. It’s not!The process of our understanding of ourselves begins at our first breath the day we are born, through other people’s lenses, perspectives, realities and experiences. Such that, if our first understanding of ourselves is through the eyes, words, thoughts and actions of emotionally mature, healthy and functional people, it is easier to get know and understand who we really are, and thus perpetuate that outwards to other people.UNDERSTANDING that “we are what we reflect” is the key to all understanding! Well, at least where people are concerned, that is. What we see and understand in our own mirrors is what we see and understand (or not see and understand) in others:
“At the end of the day, neither projection, deflection, or any clinical words, phrases, or diagnoses mean a hill of beans. PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING, my friends, and aside from our faith, the only thing we really need to understand to navigate this “peopling” gig. We are NOT what people think of us … we are what people think of THEMSELVES! So, try to remember that the next time you think about letting other peoples’ opinions control your life or define you. Someone else’s opinion of you is merely a reflection of their own personal experiences, beliefs, and realities, and sometimes a reflection of a war they’re battling within themselves. Only take what is useful and valuable from other peoples’ words, thoughts, and “opinions”. NOTHING MORE! NOTHING LESS! Only YOU know the size and shape of the shoes you’ve been walking in every single day since the minute you were born, and only YOU know how the comfort, fit, and style of those shoes have shaped YOU!In being honest and taking this even further, for me, it’s only my self-reflection through God’s eyes that matters to me. But hey, you know what? My faith journey is my faith journey, and although I do so wish you ALL well on your own faith journeys, that’s a totally different Diary entry for another day. In the meantime, you just do whatever it takes to make friends with that person you see standing in the mirror, because like it or not, that beautiful creature looking back at you is your ride or die from this day ’til eternity! How YOU feel and what YOU think of YOU is EVERYTHING!”
Okay, my Quoran peeps, that’s all she wrote. Lol. “Umm, but she wrote an entire dissertation.” I know, RIGHT? It’s what I do! Oh, and for the record, while I am NOT a doctor, mental health professional, or “peopling” expert, I am just over a half a century old, with a vast wealth of hard-earned “understanding people” experience. Dare I say that, like most of us girls and boys who are skipping and SCREAMING through our epic GOLDEN years, I probably should have a masters degree in human survival and the accompanying white sheet and lamppost of the most learned philosophers in history. I JUST KNOW SHIT, and I love to tell it, because I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re ALL meant to do. Gate keeping all these human survival skills would just be WRONG!
… that morning you wake up after having made your intentions and the desires of your heart abundantly clear to the Cosmos, find this message, then expel your uncontainable joy to your ex-best friend turned nemesis:
For the longest time, you held me down, but I got back up and brushed off the ashes you dusted me with.Now? It’s MY turn to dust YOU with the ashes you left me to fucking DIE in alone, but instead, just propelled my flight. HEAR MY VOICE! It’s the thunder that’s coming to shake the ground and hold YOU down like the bitch you always were. Consider this my FIRST of many roars!Before my time is done here, if I have ANYTHING to do with it, UNREST assured knowing that there WILL be others who I personally send for you and yours!
~ YOUR Dragon Bitch 🗡️
For the record, I recently sent out fifty plus emails to random eating disorder programs around the country. In the meantime, I’d received a powerful message of support from a virtual friend I’ve made on Instagram, along with her own bittersweet reasons why my hell bent mission to ROAR does matter:
As a female who had to watch that bitch dragon try to eat my little sister for decades, I understand so much of your story. Like you, she’s at a place finally where she’s fairly certain she will not relapse again. The same cannot be said for my beautiful friend. You remind me so much of her. Sadly, unlike your amazing self, she didn’t win. Her dragon devoured her, all while looking forward to her very first grand baby, while finally being loved by a man who was devoted to her and cherished her after her first husband severely abused her. She left behind a one year old son that she worked two years to conceive after a miscarriage and to change her “eating habits” (her words then) so that she could be a healthy pregnant Mom who was going to “do it right this time.” I will never forget her second husband’s words as he told the world what happened the day she collapsed and the fight was finished:
“She’s gone, my beautiful wife, my heart, my life, is gone. Why wasn’t I enough, was my adoration and devotion and love not enough. Why was our son not enough to fill her emptiness and fix her wounds.”
She had been fighting her dragon for thirty years.I think you are finding your calling. I’m a firm believer that things happen to us for reasons and sometimes it’s the hardest things that make the biggest impact on others. I know without a doubt there are lives out there ready and waiting for you to connect.Your story alone is so powerful and inspirational that you may save some other human from feeling his words, so, I thank you from the depths of my heart and soul for putting your story out there for those who truly need it.
I’m doing this, people! It’s finally gonna happen! I can feel it in my bones and crawling beneath my skin! If only one person hears my story then makes it their own hell bent mission to slay the fucking dragon, that’s enough!
Why, yes! Yes, I was “singing” in my house on a Saturday night, and doing it so loudly that two little boys from my hood who were passing by my castle on an acre of land with a 6,000 foot long driveway heard me doing it. Lol! What must they have been thinking? God love the precious little souls who ended up giving me a random gift that I never would seen coming:
Is she happy? Is she mad? Is she getting hacked up by a contractor who’d been hiding in her attic? Maybe we’ll just leave her a note?
By the way, never will i EVER throw that sweet little post it note away. I’ll treasure it along with all the sweet little “everythings” my own kids have gifted me over the years, especially when they were just about the ages of those two little nuggets who rang my doorbell! Lol. Don’t be surprised if I don’t end up having “Are You SINGING?” t-shirts printed before it’s all said and done and handing them out to random strangers!
Today is “National Lima Bean Respect Day“, and if you think I’m joking … I’m NOT! The powers that be went and made an actual day of honor for what I believe are GOD-FORSAKEN legumes. With that, I am reminded about that day I was SHOOKEN last year by one of those “QUORA QUESTIONS” I love to hate so much that, much like lima beans, are the BANE of my existence:
What extreme measures do ugly people to take to feel good about themselves?
Umm, REALLY? This question is literally unacceptable, because beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder, as what may be beautiful to one may not be beautiful to another. One person’s Mona Lisa, Starry Night, or David, might be another person’s dart board, nightmare, or ogre. What a person finds “aesthetically pleasing” is a matter of purely individual perception, reality, value, and belief.
There’s this silly thing I used to say to my kids when they were little:
Not everyone likes lima beans!
These words have always been so beyond fitting in our family, because while some of us all but CRAVE those disgusting legumes, to the rest of us they are the bane of OUR existence.
Meanwhile, my friends … AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH … anyone who uses the word “ugly” to describe a human being, is, IN FACT, the epitome of that very word:
How many of YOU can say that you’re still best friends with your high school sweetheart ~ 38 years and counting ~ and that he still sends you love songs?
Okay, so, maybe “Bad Company” isn’t quite a “love song”, BUT, the mere fact that there’s at least one person in this world who thinks of me when they get Death Punched is as close to a cosmic hug as could be.
That’s the masterpiece of a legacy I’m working on, folks, NOT just the birth and death dates that will be etched in granite on my headstone one day hopefully many years from now. As far as I’m concerned, it looks like I’m KILLIN’ it!
This is probably one of THE most important messages I will ever drop in this Diary, so, thank you in advance to anyone who takes the time to listen to it. It’s as very long as actual dragon’s tail, because there was so much to say and no way to do it quickly.
If you or someone you know is struggling with a dragon of any kind, please get help immediately, and perhaps share the link to this entry. No one … and I mean NO ONE … deserves to walk this Earth alone while they’re slaying dragons. Don’t let those tragic voices inside your head sentence you to death. Pick up your sword and FIGHT!
As is par for the course with my epic journey, as I was literally making this video, a knucklehead sister of mine was “liking” a comment I’d written about one of Ivan‘s posts some time ago:
The purpose of a story is to be an axe that breaks up the ice within us. Ivan, my friend, the beautiful insanity in YOUR story is surely the axe that has not just broken the frozen tundra within in so many of us, but transformed it into the fire beneath our wings. Enjoy that view of all us crazies from your stage, Fucker, and keep on hacking away at all our ice.
Guess what, people?
Consider … Me … HACKED!
Am I still somewhat of a frozen tundra these days? You Jean-Claude Van DAMN betcha! But, you see, I’m not really frozen anymore and don’t think I ever really was, it’s just that I’m really fuckin’ careful who I let into my world with a pick axe!
From what I now see as I look back on the wasteland I only thought was my younger self, the only thing that was “frozen” in me was my ability to speak the truth about the lies and farces I’d been perpetuating. As it turned out, I just needed to be transformed and risen and apostrophe I have become! It is now my truest prayer that my bittersweet tale of insanity and survival has already been an axe for some of you to begin breaking up any ice that may exist on your tundra.
By the way, how lucky am I to not have to wait until I’m dead to be a living, breathing embodiment of how “unfreezing” yourself and learning to REALLY live while you’re ALIVE is done? That’s kind of EPIC!
Oh, and by the way, I just cannot say enough how thankful I am that I’ve finally found the perfect place to use this song I’ve loved for well over half of my lifetime here in The Diary.
While there is a lot to be said about determination and perseverance in the art of human survival, let us never cease to pray.
Even if you think that no one “Upstairs” is listening when you pray, there’s a 50% chance that you’re either right or wrong. Trust me when I say that I, too, once had my doubts in the way long years gone by, but through it all I decided that I’d rather err on the side of caution than be caught dead (pun intended) on that paddle boat to Hades on the half of a chance that hell is real. Besides, if all it takes is a mustard seed of faith to call yourself a believer, why not just give praying a try? The way I see it, the only thing you really stand to lose is a deep dive into eternal fire.
And by the way, NO, I’m prolly not the ideal one to be sitting here preaching to ya, ’cause, umm, not only am I the living embodiment of “Jesus For Dummies” if there is such a book in print, I also have a mouth like a frigging sailor and the most unfiltered filter to go with it.
It was December 1995, at the forefront of the crumbling of the fortress around my soul when I heard these most powerful spoken words of Reverend Billy Graham:
Can you see God? Have you ever seen Him? I’ve never seen the wind. I’ve seen the EFFECTS of the wind, but I’ve never seen the wind. Can you see the breeze? There’s a mystery to it.
My point being …
Even when the unbelieving world thinks you’re literally and insane, just trust in the mystery anyway and never stop marching ’round and around those walls until they finally come crumbling down, even if you look like a fool. It’s called “blind faith like a child“, my friend. For the record, I don’t love and adore God because I’m “scared to death” of going to hell … I love Him because He has literally given me everything despite the fact that I do NOT deserve it. “Three strikes and I was in“, and that’s what makes this and every other Easter Sunday a very good day for me and a certifiably CRAZY “Jesus Freak”!
Two years ago this night, I made an entry entitled “Three Strikes And I’m In!” about what “this”, of all Fridays means to me. Well, since that night, not much has changed, other than to say that I’ve only grown stronger in my truly blind, if not ridiculous faith in Jesus.
Meanwhile, somewhere along the way, I stumbled upon this passage about the REAL “not so good” truth, but also, the REAL “OH, so GOOD truth” about “this” particular Friday, the author of whom is unknown to me. If, by the way, ANY of you out there seeing this right now do happen to know who wrote it, please message and let me know I can give them all due and proper credit:
He received 39 stripes because 40 was known to kill a man. They wanted him alive! They held handfuls of his beard, and hair and pulled it out by the roots. They wanted him alive! They kicked, punched, and spit on him for hours until there wasn’t a single spot on his body not covered in blood. They wanted him alive! They shoved a crown of thorns down on his head so harshly it stuck in his skin and skull. They wanted him alive! After hours of being beaten, mocked, whipped, flogged, and tortured, they made Him walk with a cross. They made Him carry it. A rough piece of wood with splinters digging into fresh wounds. They wanted him alive! They wanted Him to feel every ounce of pain they could bring. He HAD to feel it in order to heal us. Crucifixion was historically one of the cruelest most tortured deaths a human could face … hours upon hours of torture … torture most of us can not mentally think of because that kind of cruelty just isn’t normal and isn’t something our minds can comprehend. We celebrate Easter with pastel colors, happy children hunting eggs, and chocolate bunnies. The truth is that there was absolutely nothing happy about the day Jesus died. It was cruel, bloody, and nasty. He could have stopped all of it. He could have called every angel in Heaven to demolish every person standing and shouting “Crucify Him!” He didn’t. He knew that in order to have a Sunday, you have to have a Friday. He knew that in order to have joy, you have to carry your cross. He felt everything that day. He felt how your heart broke wide open when you had to watch your baby die. He felt how heavy your life was when you were staring down the barrel of a gun wondering if the man you call husband was going to shoot you. He carried the weight of the burden you have felt since your spouse died and life just doesn’t seem right anymore. On that cross, he held the rapists, murderers, sinners, and saints, leveling every playing field, and saying, “ALL of you are worth it!” He knew He had to carry the cross, but He never promised that the cross you’d have to carry in this life would not be heavy. HIS WASN’T! His promise is that Sunday is coming. No matter how heavy your Friday was today, be it financially, emotionally, mentally, or physically, such that the burden of that cross you bore all but crumbled and leveled you under its weight, His promise was simply this: He will never make you carry it alone. Now, tell me? What kind of king would step down from his throne for this? For me? For you? For this “humanity” we have become? Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God did! He did every bit of it for you and me. Oh, yes, it’s SO heavy to carry the crosses in our life that we sometimes think we can’t even take one more step with. But look up, my friends … because Sunday is coming!
{Author Unknown}
Most Bible scholars, as well as most “Jesus For Dummies” like me, hold that on “this” Friday 1,993 days ago, the blameless king and only Son Of God stepped down from His throne to take 39 stripes, three nails, and a crown of thorns into His skull for those who would claim His name. Even as strong as I am in my walk, I’m still not ever really sure exactly where to begin with what to say about the conversation I’ve played in my head so many times with anyone who cares to listen. But I do know this:
Just in case anyone forget who was assassinated on this day in 1968 and why the banks are closed and kids are home from school, I just thought I’d share.
Meanwhile, I’m not quite sure how well the good Dr. King would think we’re doing today as far as his message of hope and peace and the accompanying wisdom, justice, courage, moderation, and LOVE it would take to truly unite this nation … as ONE … “under God” … but I’m guessing he’d probably be disappointed.
This nation will rise up …
… but I guess we just have to keep falling down before we can really start rising up, right? We’ve regressed, people … not progressed … and as far as I can tell, we are more divided than ever.
Don’t get me wrong, I still love this country, the flag she flies, and the freedoms I enjoy as an American woman. That being said, sometimes it’s REALLY hard not to lose hope and keep the faith here in this flailing “huMANity” even for the most hopeful and faithful of us.
By the way, PARENTS:
Might I just suggest that you at least “try” to explain to your kids why they’re home from school today? It couldn’t hurt, right?
Now don’t you be afraid. We can always talk about it. No need to medicate, ’cause I know you’re strong without it. You got me through the days when I thought I couldn’t face it. Oh, let me count the ways. The love we have you can replace it. Just hold on … I’m not that strong. There’s a little piece of Heaven right here where you are. The fact that you keep trying is what sets you apart. Help me find the reason, and I’ll help you find the way to get rid of all your pain … little by little … day by day.
Bittersweet, poignant, and ironic, dontcha think, considering that he was the one who ended up not being strong enough to just hold on an stay. With that, I finally release these words into the atmosphere and back to him, only tweaked in my kinda way:
Now, you’re far away, and I’m alone to cry about it. It’s not a better place since you died and left me here to say: “Hold on … I was never that strong.” But I’ve gotten STRONGER, so, if you need me, I’m not far away. Now, I’ll just keep holding on, so I can help them find their way, ’cause there’s a little piece of Heaven right here where you were. The fact that I keep trying is what sets me apart! You helped me find the reason, so I can help them find the way to get rid of all their pain … little by little … day by day.I love you, Zachariah.
Those words are amongst my most treasured scars and souvenirs. Nope! No one ever DID say that this living gig was gonna be easy. Yup! I really have gone through Hell on Earth too many times to count. Meanwhile, I’m just sitting here thinking that all of this pain sufferingwas, indeed, “the point”, because how would anyone ever really know what Heaven is unless they’ve been to hell?
I’m here again … but NOT a thousand miles away from You. No, I can’t do this on my own (nor would I want to). Since I’ve seen Your face, I’ve known that I was Yours and found everything I thought I lost before. When You call my name, You make me into one whole piece in Your eye.
I’m STILL standing strong amidst a lifetime of shards and pieces that I suppose should have actually killed me by now, but instead, have only helped me find God’s face and voice within myself. I’ll never be broken and alone in silent darkness with all these shards and pieces again.
Some years ago, an extremely powerful song was born from one of my favorite albums. That Said song has since become one of my utmost battle cries to the devil:
I’m gonna hit you right where it hurts. I’m gonna give you everything that you deserve. If you need attention … something to say … let’s hear your confession. I am just too hard to break! Your words are reckless … delusional! Inside you’re helpless … far from who you say you are. You try to push me over the edge. I won’t let you pull me down to your level again! And now you’re here to stare me down. And now you’re here to stand your ground. I’ll knock you down … I’ll drag you out … no mercy! How do you like it now?
Bring it! Bring it! I’m still right here undefeated! Say whatever you want … it really don’t mean anything.
Bring it! Bring it! If there’s no fear let me see it! There is nothing you got that will ever get to me!
Guess what, though? Today that song just became one of my utmost battle cries to myself. I didn’t let my anger get the best of me. I kicked my ego’s ass, rose above the hostile, albeit well-deserved feelings I have towards my husband’s THING of a “brother”, and remembered who ABOVE the hell I am! I’m the risen and reigning queen that the “Zack Of Shit” he couldn’t be bothered with left behind.
Very long, complicated, and sometimes ugly story short? Hey, Devil? I WIN! YOU LOSE! The same goes for you, “brother THING”! why don’t you hit me up whenever you need that hundred bucks. It’ll be waiting in my wallet! And by the way, not only is your police pants blue Porsche ASS ugly, you barely fucking fit in it, little big man. Lol! Something tells me that see you next Tuesday Meggy is the one that unfortunate decision for you, kinda like the even more unfortunate one she made for you to piss away your baby brother.
I will not be forgotten! This is my time to shine! I’ve got the scars to prove it … only the strong survive! I’m not afraid of dying! Everyone has their time! Life never favored weakness!WELCOME TO THE PRIDE!
🎶
They say that perseverance will always lead to victory, and indeed I believe that’s true. Quite sadly, however, it is also true that life never has favored weakness, everyone does have their time, and (ps), you have to be willing to die! No, I’m not just talking about LITERALLY dying. I mean that sometimes you have to be willing to metaphorically die … to YOURSELF … by killing your ego.
The real trick is knowing what’s worth fighting for in the first place and knowing what TRUE victory looks like. Sometimes, LOSING is actually WINNING. See, that’s where the ego death comes into play. Some of the bloodiest battles and wars were started by man’s insufferable ego … and some of the most epic victories were found at the losing end of “man versus himself”. Remember:
Your ego wants you to win so you feel good about yourself. Yet it’s exactly the ego itself that’s sabotaging you from winning. The paradox… Killing the ego before it becomes big is a great way to sustain a happy life … because once it gets enough power, you’ll start to beat yourself up for small stuff. It’s a guaranteed way to cripple yourself.
Sounds complicated, right? Well, it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. If laying low in an almost perpetual state of rest to the point of appearing lazy is a good enough survival tactic on the pride lands, it’s good enough for all of us, too. A lion’s victories in war are only as good as the energy it’s conserved for only the most necessary of primal battles. So, too, is it with we human animals. Just sayin’!
… and our group of 25 outstanding students and 15 adults representing John Paul II Catholic High School on an epic Spring Break excursion!
Although I am no longer a practicing Catholic, I am a major fan of Jesus and His Father (the only two beings I have ever or will ever idolize). Even still, this adventure with the Mona Lisa was exceptionally moving for me, in that every one of the “signs” I’d asked for before taking off from Dallas were found here on this journey. As such, I have made some fairly serious life decisions that are going to change everything for me going forward, which changes are sure to avail themselves over the course of time here in The Diary.
No, I do not know why. God Himself know I don’t deserve any of this. Here I am, though, still rocking my favorite daughter gig, because for some reason He continually showers me with me all the power and grace I can possibly handle, even despite myself and my retched ways. Every widowed mom should be so lucky.
For the record, although although we did take a few pictures, for the most part we stayed immersed living IN all the moments rather than watching them from behind a lens.
And every day he passed a monastery’s high cathedral walls, and it made his life seem meaningless and small. And he wondered how it would be to live in such a place – to be warm, well fed and at peace, to shut the world away.
The Fossanova Abbey is a thirteenth century Cistercian monastery perched high upon a secluded hill about 60 miles south of Rome. Made almost entirely of travertine, the baron walls of the basilica, devoid of any decoration or artwork, is considered to be one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture in Italy, if not the world. It wasn’t even supposed to be a part of our tour, by the way, and the opportunity to visit availed itself somewhat out of the blue after leaving Pompei.
As Gia and I wandered down each more frugal, if not severe corridor, all we could do was inhale our speechless awe. But it wasn’t until we reached the altar nave that I truly had a moment, when the rose window perched high above a trinity of smaller windows reduced me to tears. It was Him! He was there! I could feel Him gazing down at me with as much pure love and joy as I felt gazing up at Him:
I wept as I saw you aching, broke as I watched you falling, and suffered as I watched you struggling to get back up and find your way to Me through through the fog. You couldn’t always see me, but I never left your side, and now that you finally understand that you DON’T have to understand “everything and all of it“, you’re standing at My high cathedral walls where nothing about your journey has been meaningless or small. I love you, Child. You are warm, well fed, and at peace Here.
At first, I was overcome with what almost felt like grief when it was time to leave. The profound peace I’d felt in His all-encompassing presence there was numbing, if not addictive. For a split second, I’d even thought to myself, “Maybe I could just come back here and live”? So, I began searching for the words to describe to myself what had just happened to me beneath those windows. No, I take that back … what happened within me. That’s when I was pulled back to a song I’ve been listening to for more than two decades. It is, perhaps, one of the best ways I’ve found to even remotely describe the physical manifestation of my heart being compressed as every atom in my body is consumed with the tingling, burning sensation I’ve known for years now when He’s present. It’s a feeling I wish I could just “poof” to all of you:
Lovely traces … I can sense Him in everything. The way that He moves me takes me far away … I seek no escape! I am dreaming through His eyes. I am wandering through His mind. I’m overtaken by the way that He delivers me … I’m transcended. There’s no place I’d rather be than here in Heaven. Without Him I’m incomplete … it’s hopeless! Wholly devoted … I immerse myself in Him. Baptize me in His love, ’cause drowning in the thought of Him haunts my soul. I’m taken by the things He does. It doesn’t matter what I lose … I’m His. Under His command, like a puppet on a string. I am willing to put my faith in Him, so, before the world I sing:He consumes me. He consumes me. Like a burning flame running through my veins. He consumes me. Moves right through me. Any time, any place … He invades my space. He consumes me.
{Words to “You Consume Me” Adapted}
When we got on the bus and were heading back to Rome, I just closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, fully comforted in knowing that not only will I never forget that sacred place, but more so than anything, I was taking those high cathedral walls and the feeling I had there with me. You see, nothing about either my journey through the abbey or this life itself has been meaningless or small. He loves me, consumes me, and dwells WITHIN me. I am warm, well fed, and at peace wherever I roam. Oh, and I truly amHis favorite daughter.
After the tour, we visited the nearby Cellini Gallery, where I scored this bauble made from Mount Vesuvius lava. Fashioned from the Her core, not only do these beads ground me back to Mother Earth herself, but with my ancestral roots that trace back to right there in Southern Italy, even more so do they connect me to the ancient mariners who came before me:
They’re the pirates who came before me and the zephyrs in my sky who forged this path and built this mountain for me to stand on as they push me into the perpetual state of punctuation and magic I’ve become as I navigate this sea of madness. In the meantime, as I continue to soar through these golden years of mine, “I’ll be wearing steel that’s bright and true and carrying the news that must get through!
Look closer at my bracelet, and you’ll see a little charm. Our time there was over and I was supposed to be heading to the bus, so, I rushed through my purchase and didn’t notice it until I returned home. Truth being told, because I’m half blind without my glasses, and also because I’m not typically a fan of jewelry with “little charms”, it wasn’t until I was literally standing in my closet about to snip it off that I realized what it was. It was a teeny, tiny anchor, and yet another reminder that He’s with me eternally in my storms, just as I know He was with those of “my people” who were buried in those ashes.
Going forward, I’ll wear this bracelet proudly in honor of having walked in the footsteps of those who perished in those ashes for me, as I scream these epic “I WIN! YOU LOSE!” words to that Godforsaken devil in my mind:
Only time would hold the answer of how their season turned. They stayed there bleeding, suffering, burning deeper, then finally sinking under. Oh, how they fought to survive so that I would never break!So, you pulled me under with your lies and watched me breaking underneath, but I hid away that darkness in the Light that burns now deeper in me. You never knew who I was, because you NEVER held the key: They lived, then they died, and from their ashes I’ve ignited so they’ll NEVER fade away!
… ’cause believe it or not, yes, there IS still plenty of Light to be found while we’re out there stumbling through the all the darkness in this world. Sounds kinda funny coming from ME these days, especially after my recent “cheeseburger & picnics” rant, right? Momma’s been a little bitter. Meanwhile …
Take it from me … they don’t care if you’re lonely. As you can see, they don’t care if you’re scared. Your heart IS the only friend you have in this whole world. Don’t start to think you can’t do this yourself. This is the call out! This is the call to the broken! (Stand up!) To all the ones who’ve been thrown away. This is the call to the broken! (Stand up!) Stand up and take back your world today!I know what you’re thinking. You say you’re tired of keeping score, keeping score? Trust me, you’re not the only one going through this. You see, I’ve been through this before! This is the call out!
By the way, a very Happy Birthday to this, one of my all time favorite self-empowerment ballads by one of my all time favorite “keepin’ it REAL” bands, 3 Doors Down, that was born this day back in 2016 with the release of it’s mother album, “Us and the Night“.
On a beautiful Wednesday afternoon exactly one year ago today, “the music wheel of destiny” stopped my world, and my heart, and sent me straight into the breakdown lane of one of the busiest highways in Dallas so that I could literally “cry my eyes out”. It was as if Zack were singing this beautifully haunting melody to me, my daughter, and my son in a message from “The Brighter Side Of Grey“, where in our hearts we know he finally is. If you haven’t ever heard this song, I cannot urge you enough to listen to it, especially if you are at odds with yourself over the legacy you are going to be leaving behind for your own children and loved ones.
So, with that, Happy THREE YEAR Grey-Aversary to me and anyone else who’s riding this beautiful “grey high” train with me to the brighter side of everything you’re painting your legacy with! If you, like many of us, are grieving the loss of someone who you loved … WAIT! NO! … someone who you still love, no matter how long ago it has been, do me a favor and SAY THEIR NAME today!
And remember …
“Death Is NOTHING At All“. I mean, does it HURT that they aren’t still physically “here” with us? HELLO? Of course it does! All of this grief we share is our infinite and unexpressed love for them. They are still here, though … just slipped into the next room … watching, listening, and absorbing all of thisthrough their telescopes. When we say their names, they can hear us, I promise, promise, PROMISE! In the meantime, just keep it GREY today, and don’t forget to listen to our song …
Don’t get me wrong, folks. I don’t do things for anyone from a selfish place. The altruistic soul my skin adorns refuses to give of myself for personal gain. I do what I do for the people in my halo (and sometimes even strangers) from a place of unbridled love and passion for pebble-skipping and wave-making, regardless of whether I’ll ever see the tsunami of fruit from the gifts of my heart and hands. I truly don’t need to be “seen, heard, or appreciated”. It literally sets my soul on fire to at least try to make all the people, places, and things I’ve touched better than I found them, and that feeling is reward enough for me … BUT … I’m not gonna lie, folks … I don’t hate it, either!
With that, I am blasted right back to the past to one of my favorite “oldies but goodies”, Circa 1999, which I am now blasting back out to my babies, my God, and even myself:
Hey, look at me, living life for you. When it’s good. When it’s hard. You know me. You know my heart. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I give up anything at all when You call. All I know … it’s worth it all!
Make it a powerful Monday, friends! If there’s someone in YOUR life whose works and deeds have made it better, but perhaps you haven’t told them yet, SAY THE WORDS that tell them.
That being said, not a day in my life has passed in the 26 years that I’ve had a relationship with Jesus that I don’t mentally picture Him “weeping”. He wept for Lazarus. He wept for those who were weeping for Lazarus. He wept for the all of mankind. It’s the one image of Him that I hold the very tightest, and yes, I actually “hold” that mental picture of Him weeping near to my heart and “feel” the actual idea of Jesus weeping. He weeps for me. He weeps for you. He weeps for all of this jacked up FUCKING bullshit that He’s watching go down as time passes by and the division in humanity becomes its demise, and WOW, look at me, I just cursed again!
I’m not gonna lie, folks, there’s been a lot of dark and toxic “stuff” hanging in the balance over not necessarily my own head, but the heads of my beautiful children. My one and only son is fighting a domestic and internal war against an enemy that is all but devouring him, which “enemy” is one of the very few people he’s loved, trusted, and had unyielding and completely blind faith in all the days of his life. Meanwhile, as his mother, all I can do is just sit back and watch as he is metaphorically dangling over a muddied swamp with just one beast in it. It’s a hopeless, torturous, and abysmal feeling, because unless and until he can find the strength and courage to finally walk away from that beast once and for all, there is nothing I can do to help him. So, today, amid the carnage and fallout from a battlefield I am literally helpless on, all I could manage to do is feel like weeping. So, guess what?
I LET MYSELF!
Weeping is one of the things that makes me a human being and not the monster this world full of Satan’s minions wants to turn me into. If you’ve been around this Diary long enough by now, you know that I have a song for every entry, but that some songs have made an appearance more than once:
By the way, it’s okay to feel sadness and grief for the things that have died inside of you, and it’s certainly okay to cry. Now that I think of it, it’s such a blessing that one of my favorite verses in the Bible also happens to be the shortest: JOHN 11:35: Jesus wept. CRY AS OFTEN AS YOU NEED TO! Get mad! Scream out loud! Do whatever you must to let yourself feel everything that has hurt you so you can finally let it go!
The music loving world received a profound gift in the form of one of the most powerful songs of my own life 16 years ago this day, and now I’m about to hit my knees and thank GOD that He ever gave this offering to me in the first place. If weeping was good enough for His Son, then weeping is good enough for me. I’d be hard-pressed to forget that there are some people in this world who either can’t or simply won’t allow themselves the utmost privilege and honor of “weeping”, because:
I’m so afraid of the gift You gave me.
So many people are afraid to just let all those tears go for fear that once they start they’ll never stop. For those people, I will pray tonight. Everyone should be so lucky as to own the ability to allow themselves to weep and wail when they need to. Sometimes the only way to ensure that the literal storm of tears that is brewing in your heart and soul “will ever stop” is to release them! They’ll stop when they’ve done their job, then start again when they need to get back to work. Goodnight everyone!
Twenty years ago today, humanity lost a treasure the likes of which it’s rarely known, Mister Rogers. Much like one of his modern day brethren whose halo still graces our atmosphere, Keanu Reeves, Fred Rogers was “love incarnate“, and there truly was no additional component to his character.
“He stayed the same human throughout the worst and the best in his life. He was pure … and people saw that.”
Perhaps my favorite part of every episode was the moment he’d meet me at my level, remind me that I mattered, and say things like …
“I like you just the way you are.”
“It’s you l like.”
“You’ve made this day special just by being YOU!”
“Look for the helpers!”
Indeed, it’s true that an entire generation of us were fortunate enough to have grown up withimpeccable words such as those being planted deep within our psyches as the tentpoles for our core understanding of kindness, caring, empathy, patience, and compassion. He was so much more than just the PBS Kids TV host wearing his mother’s beloved hand-knit sweaters so many of us fondly remember watching on the screen while our mother’s were still in the kitchen keeping the home fires burning, he was a living transmission of love that left an imprint across our hearts of what humanity at its utmost and highest could look like that many of us still call upon and at least try to carry forward as adults.
One hasn’t lived until they’ve seen a man who they thought was a tower of steel on the verge of tears after what was probably their last “Daddy/Daughter Dance” until her wedding day. How did this all go so wrong? Please allow me to be a blubbering mess for the remainder of this night, and (PS), grief SUCKS and mental illness can burn in actual HELL!
With that, perhaps we should consider “the words” to a song that may be an oldie, but it’s still a damn goodie, that I listen to all the time:
Silence is golden but these are the words that the world needs to hear. Terms of compassion will cause a reaction as love drives them near. But still we choose to hide behind the face of pride, pretending we are blind to the calling. This is my point and case, if hate can be erased with such a simple phrase, why are we stalling?
Some just assume we already know of the love that they feel. Some have a heartfelt emotion, but never the words to reveal. I think we all relate, so why are we afraid to let our hearts convey what we’re feeling? There is a world in need with hungry souls to feed, and love can intercede if we’re willing.
So, say the words, say the words, say “I love you”. Say the words I long to hear. Say the words, say the words, say “I love you”. Say the words I long to hear. Ya gotta say it. Ya gotta say it. SAY IT!
By the way, “saying the words” doesn’t just apply to romantic partners. It means speaking words of love, kindness, and caring that your children and even friends or strangers may need to hear. Don’t just assume that your people know the beautiful things you feel for them in your heart. I mean, let’s face it … NONE OF US ARE MIND-READERS! Also, there are many people in this world, and maybe even some of your people, whose love language is words of affirmation. Meaning, the only way they really “hear” the words “I love you” is by really hearing the words “I love you.”
Do they make you smile when they walk into the room? Does their smile brighten the darkest of spaces? Do they inspire you? Encourage you? Make you want to be a better person? Do they make everything about your existence in what can seem like a dreadful existence more enjoyable, comfortable, and “worth it all”? TELL THEM! Tell them they’re beautiful! Tell them they’re smart! Tell them you have faith in them, that your proud of them, and proud to even know them!
I can end life. I can give life. I bring truth. I bring lies. I am heard … but not seen.Who am I?I AM WORDS!
My valentine may be elsewhere now, but I will revel in all the sweet words I’ll share with all my valentines on Earth today … not the least of which is the very recently broken, not so golden silence between me and my Dad. These texts between he and I may seem a bit silly to the rest of the world, but to me, they are my case in point that hate really can be erased by SAYING THE WORDS!
Always remember that every word you speak into someone’s ears or The Cosmos itself can either sow a garden or destroy a crop. So, yes, SAY THE WORDS, but make them extraordinary and IMPECCABLE!
Lastly, and on a side note, I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but it is my truest prayer that everyone reading this either has already or will someday soon attract a “Naked Partner” who speaks the love language of your heart so that you don’t have to spend what is often an entirely fruitless lifetime trying to interpret, decode, translate, and explain the language of your soul.
Since it’s Super Bowl Sunday, let’s talk football! Nah! Just kidding! To be honest, and with no disrespect for my next door neighbor, who is, in fact, one of THE top ten highest paid quarterbacks in the history of the sport, I couldn’t give two fucks about the sport. Can I sit through a game now and then? Yup! I’ve spent many a given Sunday either on a couch at home while the man in my life was watching, or at a kitchen island with a gaggle of other uninterested biotches who only watch football when they have to because of … err … the pants. Wait! What? C’mon ladies, and maybe even some gents, who in this world can’t appreciate a footballer in those gloriously tight ASS pants? Lol!
Anyhoo …
How ironic is it, then, that one of my “Top 10” favorite movies is about football? I vividly remember the night I first saw Any Given Sunday when it was released in December of ’99. The only reason I even agreed to go was because I have always adored Al Pacino.
While this flick gives the viewer a cinematic glimpse into a fictional world of the NFL player experience, it was Coach Tony’s “Game Of Inches” speech that anchored me to one of the most impeccable cinematic uses of “words” I’ve ever heard. Although I didn’t know it then, this monologue was subliminally preparing me to find the metaphorical “inches” I’d eventually need to claw with my fingernails out of hell:
I don’t know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a team or we’re gonna to crumble … inch by inch … play by play … ’til we’re finished. We are in hell right now, gentlemen, believe me. And, we can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us, or, we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell … one inch at a time.Now, I can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around – I see these young faces, and I think … I mean … I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make. I, uh, I pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who’s ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror.You know, when you get old in life, things get taken from you. That’s … that’s … that’s part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of inches. So is football. Because in either game – life or football – the margin for error is so small. I mean … one half step too late or too early … you don’t quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don’t quite catch it.The inches we need are everywhere around us. They’re in every break of the game … every minute … every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our fingernails for that inch, ’cause we know when we add up all those inches that’s going to make the fucking difference between WINNING and LOSING … between LIVING and DYING. I’ll tell you this … in any fight, it is the guy who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know if I am going to have any life anymore, it is because I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch … because that is what LIVING is. The six inches in front of your face.Now, I can’t make you do it. You gotta look at the guy next to you … look into his eyes! Now, I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for him. That’s a team, gentlemen, and either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That’s football, guys. That’s all it is. Now, whatta you gonna do?
While it’s obviously geared towards inspiring a team, in all the years I’ve listened to it, I’ve done so from the perspective of “me, myself, and I”. Meaning? This “I am my own best friend and the one person I know I can always count on” mindset of mine was clearly within me all the while, even during the lowest points of my “game”. I guess I just needed some “get REAL, Cat”, no nonsense, TOUGH LOVE and GRIT coaching from myself as I fought to climb my way out of hell and into the Light … one inch at a time. These words can apply to essentially any relationship dynamic:
… and either we heal now, as a [family … couple … friendship], or we will die as individuals. That’s [life]! That’s all it is. Now, whatta you gonna do?
For the record, I’ve probably watched this movie a few dozen times and listened to the speech itself a hundred times, if not more. I can recite it word for word – AND HAVE – to not just myself, but a few other people I love. Meanwhile, if you’ve never seen it, and even if you don’t like football, I cannot recommend it enough. And oh, yah … ENJOY THE PANTS!
The Diary Of My Perfection 