A firefly above

It is the smallest things that amaze me the most.

Just simple things that some people may never consider or be in amazement of.

I remember the first time I ever saw a firefly. I had always heard about them and seen them in movies but I had never actually seen one. One night I was out watching the stars and saw a little flicker. Then another, and another, and another! I was blown away.

I jumped off the hood of my car, running to the field where the fireflies were glowing and began trying to catch them with my hands. I sat for at least an hour watching them glow in the dark field as the countless stars shined above.

Then a thought crept into my mind that changed that way I will forever think of a firefly.

The same light that I saw from the fireflies was just like the light that I was seeing from the stars light-years away that burn hot in space.

Light is light.

The thought began to consume my mind. Its funny how sometimes it’s the little things like a firefly that do that to me.

Light is light.

No matter where it comes from it does the same thing.

Light kills darkness.

No matter how big the light source, light does the same thing.

Light kills darkness.

No matter how far it’s had to travel, light does the same thing.

Light kills darkness.

And at the moment I realized that people are no different. No matter how big, small, young, old, or far away someone is we are all as important as the fireflies above.

Some look at others who they see as stars and stare in amazement at the amount of light they are able to produce.

But light does the same thing.

Whether it is a little or a lot. It does the same thing.

Everyone can shine.
Never take that for granted, because at some point someone who you do not notice watching will jump off the hood of their car ignoring the stars in the sky, and stare in amazement of your flickering light that glows, they will stand in awe of a firefly above.

20130413-081501.jpg

Posted 1 year ago

 

Papa Time

In either hand he holds the sun and moon. He controls every millisecond, to every millennium, and all things before in-between and after.

His name is Papa Time.

I think at times we all wish to control the sun and moon, play with night and day on strings like a marionette, and control the timing of what happens in our lives.

We like to think that we control the timing of things, but we don’t, because we cant.

And that in itself is a scary thought.

Or a completely amazing one.

Each morning when you wake up, acknowledge the fact that that someone somewhere went to sleep the same time as you did the night before.

This person planned out what they would wear to work, what they would eat for breakfast, and the errands they would run the next day,
This person lays in bed texting his girlfriend for whom he cares for deeply. He is not good at saying how he feels. He knows he loves her, but has been unable to say it. Before telling his girlfriend goodnight he lets her know that he has something he wants to tell her tomorrow, something that he has needed to say and that she needs to hear. In his restless mind he plans how he will tell this girl three words that have been impossible for him until now.

“I love you.”

Both of you set your alarm for the same time and close your eyes to get some rest.

You wake up grumpy complaining about work and the fact that it’s Monday. You are rude to everyone you meet throughout the day. You waste precious time being negative and after work you head home. When you get home you complain some more about having to wake up the following day. You set your alarm again, banking on the fact that you will have the opportunity to be awoken by it in 8 hours.

You close your eyes to go to sleep, while halfway across the country a woman cannot close hers because of the tears she weeps.

This woman’s eyes are red and her mind cannot comprehend the last 24 hours. She has lost someone that she loved dearly. She reads through their text conversation the night before, laughing through tears about some of the silly things he said. She reads the last text he sent and begins sobbing uncontrollably again.

“Goodnight. Tomorrow I wanna tell you something that I’ve been wanting to for a while. Its something that I want you to hear from me face to face.”

24 hours earlier both of you set your alarm banking on the fact that you would wake up to it.

You woke up.

He didn’t.

Time is the most precious and irreplaceable thing that humans have. When it is gone, it’s gone forever.

Sometimes things that are left unsaid can never be recovered.
They are gone forever, because they never were used. They were invested in time that did not yet exist.

The only time that is guaranteed is the moment that just passed as you read this. The only time you have has already been used.

Time is ticking.

What you say and do with the unforeseeable amount of the precious resource is what makes life worth living, not the amount you are given.
We are dying from the day we are born.

Time is precious, and it is the precious things in life that really matter.
Life is death.
And death is beautiful.

20130411-074445.jpg

Posted 1 year ago

 

Art is Liberty

Show me a child that doesn’t like to color and I’ll show you an adult.

From an early age I loved to draw. I loved to create.
I remember as a child when I would go to church I would always draw on the sermon sheet, prayer and membership cards, and anything else that I could find. There was an old woman who would flick my ear who sat behind my family.
“Pay attention and quit drawing on everything.” She would say.

As I grew older I drew less and less. I created less and less.
And I became less and less.
Because that’s what happens when you grow up right? You lock things away that you once loved to do as a child.

That’s what I did.

I took a part of myself and hid it away, forgetting about how much joy art brought me.

I began playing sports. Quickly that became my main passion, and in this little box with pencil in hand, a child version of me was locked away with nothing to draw on but the walls of his prison cell that I held the key to.

For years this part of me went neglected. I ignored the sound of the pencil scratching at my heart and the creative child that shouted “Let me out! I did nothing wrong! I’m innocent.”

You see, once a passion is conceived in your heart it is unable to be aborted. You can only go without feeding it. Starvation is the only option.

But even starvation will not kill a God given passion; you can only keep it from growing.

I believe there comes a time where everyone has the opportunity to free their passions and let them grow in their natural habitat of utilization.

Some people do and some people don’t.

Some are too busy with their professions or make the easy excuse of “I don’t have time.”

Some are embarrassed about their passions. They would rather be the star athlete than the guy who paints and writes.

I was. That was me.

Not anymore though.

I was fortunate enough to finally remember what being a child was like. I was lucky enough to the find keys that most people lose to the prison cells that contain their childhood self. I was blessed enough to rescue and free a passion that sat starving.

Instead of a pencil I handed this child I once knew a brush and paint. Something that he was too poor to afford all those years back when he scribbled on shredded paper and cardboard boxes.

This part of me quickly grew wings and transformed. Claws appeared and feathers sprouted.

And there an Eagle sat.

With a claw full of paintbrushes, and still clutching the pencil that scribbled on the walls of the prison for so many years.

With three powerful flaps of its wings this eagle flew. It soared from the walls of the prison never to be captured by me again.

Free your passions because that is your liberty.

Art is my liberty and creating is my freedom.

20130410-123319.jpg

Posted 1 year ago

 

Climb the ladder to touch the stars

As a child I lived so far in the country that the West Texas sky was unimpeded by any city lights.  Countless nights I sat on the back porch of my trailer house counting stars as a child. I always wished I had a big ladder that led to the moon through the night sky. A ladder that I could climb to get away from the chaos that was my childhood, and closer to the one constant thing I knew at the time.

The stars.

Down a dirt road outside of Midland Texas, I fell in love with the stars.

I knew that when everything else in my life was falling apart and changing around me, the stars would be the same. They were my constant.

I think it was the idea that so many other people that did great big things had at one point looked at the same exact stars and moon. These people probably did just what I was doing before they did those amazing things that changed the world. Those people were just like me, and that thought intrigued me.

That thought inspired me.

Every night the moon and countless stars in the country sky reminded me that if others can be great so could I. In a strange way it was almost like they would speak to me saying,

“We have seen everyone who has ever changed the world, we have watched them grow, and we have watched them die. And they have looked up wondering the same thing you are. And the answer is yes. Someone will be great. Why not have it be you?”

To this day the stars fascinate me, and on the nights when I can see them all clearly they still speak to me.

“We have seen all the great ones. Someone will be great. Why not have it be you?”

Why not climb the ladder and touch the stars?

Somebody will. Why not you?

Climb the ladder to touch the stars

Posted 1 year ago