Tag Archives: Fear

Liking the Creature in the Mirror.

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Our lives, and our journey through our life finds us looking for where to turn, where to run and where we should be. This journey is oftentimes hard, but we go through it, our head in our hands, tears rolling down or a smile on our face, but it’s our decision which it is.

Going through the journey, we’re looking for something to grasp, something which attracts us and there are times which that something, which initially attracts, repels.

The act of being repelled by the journey sends us reeling and we have to get back up, stand on our feet and look in the mirror at the creature we’ve created.

The creature, though not who we wanted to be at the start of the journey, tells us who we are at that moment, and only at that moment.

The moment we get past that creature and on to another, we discover that we’re something better, not the creature in the mirror anymore, but the person we wanted to be all along.

The person we’ve become is a monster of different parts, taken from different aspects of who we are, who we’ve been and where we hope to be.

The person in the mirror is no longer one we don’t want to look at, it’s the one we take pride in, the one we tell our friends about and that person is the one we hoped to be at the beginning of our journey.

The journey is long, the road is filled with more bumps and divots than a 60-year-old freeway. We find ourselves going through new things each day, but at the end, when we look in the mirror at the creature staring back, is it the one you want to be, or the one you wish wasn’t there?

The creature is only where we are at that point, it changes, it moves and at the finality of the journey the creature becomes who we hoped to be.

Finding Peace with the Angry Eight-Year-Old

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When I was eight years old my parents separated and eventually divorced.

I dealt with it like and 8-year-old would, I pushed the anger at my parents deep down inside.

I hid how angry I was–with random acts of rage and frustration–from everyone.

It wasn’t until I was older that I began to understand my anger, but I’d never truly had it under control, it would just be pushed down and ignored until it blew.

When it blew, watch out.

The first time my then girlfriend, and now wife, saw it for the first time, she didn’t no how to respond, it scared her, not because the anger was directed at her, but because she didn’t know how someone who seemed so calm could explode in that manner.

The anger at my parents for how they acted towards us after they separated didn’t help things. I was only eight and only knew my dad was kissing some other woman and my mom another man, nothing was ever explained to me.

When my son turned eight and my wife and I were still together, I felt like I’d conquered a childhood demon, a minor one, but still a demon.

Their divorce was a catalyst in my life. One of those moments where life changed, and I changed.

Before eight-years-old, I stood up to people who’d bullied my sisters and got good grades, afterward I was the one bullied and I no longer cared about my grades. Both of these had an effect on the relationship I had with my parents, something which I don’t think they understood then, though I believe my mom understands now.

It’s been 30 years since then, and I’m going through another catalyst, this time a different better one.

After pushing my anger down, I’ve begun to deal with the eight-year-old I was, and we’ve been talking about how things can move forward with who we are, and not be the angry little boy.

This began with TM.

My break earlier this year was 30 years in the making and though I cried more than I screamed on that day, I’ve come to understand myself better with TM. I’ve learned that my parents didn’t know what the hell they were doing and that though they were young and didn’t seem to care about me at eight, they do now.

With TM I’ve learned that the angry eight-year-old is part of who I am, and that journey has come to an end in the calmness I feel with TM.

I know that I can’t get back the 30 years I lost to anger, but I can live in peace with the person I am now, and I have Transcendental Meditation to thank for that.

I’m a better person than I was five months ago when I wanted to kill myself, and I know that my life is finally hit another road, which I’m following faithfully, keeping my head on the things I want to accomplish in my life and that, in the end Peace is better than being an angry eight-year-old.

Doing the Right Thing

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Each of us want to do something which changes the world around us, but the problem we have is finding the opportunity or the means to do it.

We want to do this for on simple reason, because it’s right.

What’s right hasn’t always been my best play. I’d usually sit on the sidelines, watching everything play out. But, and this is a big one, I never thought I had anything to contribute to the world.

Sure I have two kids, but they’re carrying on as people who will eventually, like the rest of us, not be here.

I wanted to give back in a way which would others, not for glory, but because it’s what is right.

The right thing often escapes us.

We find it lying in the corner, its body thrashed and battered, but we want to be right, we want to do good for the sake of helping others.

That’s why creativity is important in the world.

There are tons of doctors, lawyers, but the creatives are shunned until they can produce something worthwhile.

Writers room are full rejection slips. Some of us hold onto them as a badge of honor.

We look at them as we finish our current project and hope, “Maybe this is the one.”

Then we send it off, hoping.

Doing right is something which will sustain us, keep us safe and hopefully help our writing.

I write to help others, which seems to be working lately if you’ve found this blog from TM.org.

Helping others is what we should do, because it’s the right thing

Finding Your Own Road.

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The road follows its own course, we’re just along for the ride.

We stare at the road presented before us, its trees, thorns ad cracked and splintered surface, but what we rarely see are the wildflowers growing in the ditch on the side of the road.

The wildflowers, though beautiful, are hidden from view. They’re rarely seen and seldom talked about, but the cracked and splintered surface is discussed often.

Our roads lead only where we want them to. The only thing we can do is get off the highway, find a gas station, and ask for directions, but we don’t like directions, or at least not a lot of us.

Our direction, whether going through a big city, or a small town, always leads us through cracks and thorns, but once we reach the city, do we stop and look for beautiful areas, no, we’re resigned to believe there are none.

Cities are beautiful, but we often forget about the architecture around us unless we’re standing in it.

Towns don’t have the rush of the city, but they have the problems, and once we’re entangled in those problems they become bigger than the city.

A stop in the towns is wonderful for some people, as are cities, but getting beyond those and discovering what lies beyond the city gates or the township’s borders, that’s when you discover the correct road.

Stay on the road, follow the course and let it take you where you need to be.

Writing Critiques and How TM has changed my view.

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As a child I remember my father critiquing me for anything he believed I did wrong. If I stood with my hands on my hips, “That looks Gay”, or when I’d get bad grades, “You’re stupid.”

This type of critiquing didn’t go well with my creative side, it impeded it.

Now that I have kids and don’t say those things to them, I learned more about what is a good critique and a bad one and how TM figures in to my writing.

The one thing about TM, is that I no longer care as much about the past, or the future. I’m finally able to live in present, and with the present I’m able to handle criticism a lot better.

I recently got my edits back from an editor, though they’ll change the way I write, they’ll also let me grow as a writer, which is more important.

The edits were on a draft of a novel I wrote and they’re what I’ve wanted to hear from someone who knew what they were talking about.

I’ve attended Meet-Ups, but a lot of them are just a bunch of people gathered to drink at a bar, which may be fun for those who aren’t serious about the craft, but for me they limited what I wanted to do and they were detrimental to my craft.

I knew going in to writing that I needed work, and with the notes I received, I know what I need to fix, and I’m also now more aware of my writing issues.

I no longer live in a world where I care if I’m berated for not cleaning my room, but that prepared me for writing more than anything.

As a kid I had to have thick skin, but I also became aware that I could write to escape things, which went hand-in-hand.

TM allows me to worry less about the critiques I received in the past and let me focus on my present writing issues.

Being critiqued is part of writing, and being critiqued well are the best kind of critiques.

Before TM I was fearful of being critiqued and based what I knew on my experience with my father.

I now know that a critique should be a lesson and not a reprimand.