love. the ultimate journey. the ultimate consequence.
people spend all of their forevers trying to find love. we break open our piggybanks.. we paint masks… we become top notch conmen. we keep aces up our sleeves and the sheep out of our dreams in hope to find the final treasure.. the light at the end of a tunnel.. the pot of gold. ironically.. we don’t yet know who we are conning or stealing from until it’s too late.. because in the end.. we are conning ourselves. as people.. for whatever reason, we are wired to steal from ourselves. to live within the thoughts that we aren’t good enough.. that we have to fit certain molds with the expectations and weights of multiple worlds telling us we have to find love (and to keep it) to live a life of value and worth. we are rabbits chasing a carrot dangling from a string. riding carousels tricking ourselves into believing that we sit upon majestic stallions on our way to a promised land of gold and eternity. we spend our entire lives chasing these crowns. we pick up gems along the way, sliding them into our pockets with sheepish grins, being too greedy to share or to allow them to see the light of the day. they become hidden mischievous paper weights reminding us that even when we find items of worth.. we will always want more. after all.. isn’t that in our nature? to want MORE. because sand isn’t as grand as a pebble.. which will never be as prized as a stone… which only dreams of being as mighty as a mountain. what we fail to realize is that the more we strain our bodies traveling to find these crowns.. to find love.. the more we turn ourselves into walking palms across it’s very face. contradictions of the very sermon we intend to preach. we need to stop hiding behind our own eyelids. i have found that the crown can be the ground that our starving feet stand and dance upon. life isn’t always love. it is the journey TO love. the pain? that’s a gem. the disappointment? another one. life is a journey.. and in turn becomes the destination all at the same time. you already have what you are looking for. it was found before you ever started searching for it. if you are walking and living in a world that you have yet to understand.. then the battle is won. understanding is a hand that i hope my mind never shakes. we should enjoy living in wonder. we should enjoy feeling small. instead of putting the gems in your pocket, upset that they all individually are much smaller than you had hoped to find.. gather the gems and align them within the gold that can be found within you flowing through your veins and allow them to form a crown. wear it upon your head like a sky. love does not shape who you are.. because love is actually not knowing who you are. we create IT’S meaning.. not the other way around. love is finding and running into people and places that make you redefine it’s very being. love is the journey itself. this why i live with such wanderlust. i thank the universe constantly for fairy tales.. for the mountains we’ll never climb.. for the stars we’ll never see… because maybe love isn’t found at the end of the road… maybe it can be found along the way… maybe love is the road itself.
-alexander michael deleon
You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it.
See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic.We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out,washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves. After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering.
When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm. That’s what I believe.
“you cannot possibly live without the fear of dying”.
this came from a conversation i was having with a friend the other night… and i do not believe it could ring any more true. i have heard that the average person lives to be around 77 years old. if that is truly the case… the average person…