This is just a little taste of what goes on inside of my head. I talk about culture, fashion, music, art, and living in NYC. Life according to moi. Enjoy what you read and hopefully I will open your mind to new things and experiences. Life should be spent living out each day as if it were the very last. I wish peace and blessings to all of my reading audience.
The above clip is for 'Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks' by The Rapture. It is the namesake for this blog.
So recently I have taken a break from blogging. I have had a lot on my plate. More than you know. More than I care to discuss. I am always delighted to see that people actually read this blog. And it makes me sad that I have let people down. I hate letting people down. But seriously!? Do people actually enjoy reading this? Do people actually enjoy reading what goes on in my mind?
I often wonder what's the point in writing a blog like this. I write about so many different topics. Do people read this drivel? Do people care? If I stopped writing this crap, would anyone notice? Does what I say actually matter? You, the reader, do you like what I write? Are you interested? Intrigued? Inspired? Disgusted? Maybe I should ask myself what my intention is for writing this blog? Is it for self-aggrandizement? Is writing this only to appeal to my ego?
I don't really know the answers to any of this. All I know is that I love writing. Ideas and creativity are constantly flowing through my veins. My blog is my form of expressing what I want to come out. Music, art, creativity flows through my veins in place of blood. This forum is the attempt to express what I cannot say face to face. My blog offers another reality. It presents another side to my persona. I am presenting a character to you that is part of myself. An expression of myself.
So that presents a question worth asking, what is reality? Is it something that we perceive within our own framework? Or is it simply what others define for us? Maybe there is no reality. Or maybe we are all connected to machines and what we see is only an illusion of what's real. You know, like the Matrix. Whatever the answer, my blog paints a picture of my reality, my point of view. That is what makes us all unique; we see and comprehend the world in different ways. So with that in mind, does it really matter if this blog has a specific purpose or goal? If I enjoy it, isn't that what matters most!?
And I like writing this blog because it presents a picture of what I see as my reality. And I often think to myself that others can connect to this one reality. Do you share a view in what I see? Do you see beauty in the same presentations of life as I do? This is the essential reason why I write. I want to connect to other people. I want my writing to transcend human nature and its innate need to box everything in. Why do we have a need to distance ourselves from one another? Isn't it a basic notion that we all share something intrinsic? Aren't we all made of the same molecules, made of the same parts that form a beating heart, a breathing lung? In fact, human nature is built on the sheer notion that we all share something intrinsic and true.
Maybe it's this reason that I write this blog. I want to find this truth. After all, what is it that we all want in life? Don't we look for the same needs? Humans all share a common objective and goal in life. We want to make the most out of what we have in front of us. And lately I've been doing just that. There has been a lot going on and my life is going through some massive changes. I can sit here worrying about what may or may not happen, or I can just live today for its intrinsic value and worry about tomorrow when it comes. I'm not saying not to plan, but I am through worrying about what will transpire because that only immobilizes me with fear and self-doubt. And then nothing gets done.
What flashes through my mind is a slogan on a bumper sticker 'Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is the present. That's why they call it a gift.' Tomorrow is never guaranteed for any of us. Tomorrow, the whole planet could get washed away, engulfed under the ocean. An alien civilization could come to Earth and proclaim us its slave, or worse, dinner. Or you know, the inevitable hurtling toward a zombie apocalypse where you wake up thinking you hear raccoons in your garbage cans again, but then see the undead eating your neighbor's face. I had to go for an effectively graphic visual.
But reality can change drastically at any minute. None of us are seers with a crystal ball, able to predict the playing out of each moment of our lives. One minute you're a carefree art history graduate student in California, and the next you're married with four kids living in Florida selling real estate. A clean bill of health turns into having to return for what seemed like a 'routine' test because the doctor notices a 'growth' under your arm. No one knows for sure what we will turn into in one, five, fifteen years down the line. In one year, everything can turn upside down and change. You just never know.
So the best answer to why I keep an online journal like this is to share my thoughts with the world. Perhaps I might end up helping someone or making someone feel better because suddenly they don't feel so alone. Our thoughts and expressions can be isolating in that we all hide pieces of ourselves from the outside world. They look in and see one version of us that is often in juxtaposition to how we view ourselves. So maybe someone out there is having the same thoughts I am at the same moment. Maybe the song clip within my post is also running through someone's head at the very moment they come across this page. That thought is what keeps this blog running. The sheer fact that visceral human connection trumps everything: money, ego, power, war, disease, poverty. Our humanity is based on the fact that we all live in different versions of reality. But, for one moment in time, we have the possibility of connecting with someone who fits and overlaps in our Venn Diagram somehow.
So with that thought in mind, I leave you with the thought that you, the reader, and me, the writer are linked in this moment that will be forever frozen in the cosmos of time. Our history is built on connection and collaboration but somehow, in today's society, when we are on each other's front doorstep as a result of social media and technology, people are more isolated and disconnected from each other now more than ever. So in an attempt to heal a fractured and broken world, I write. Positive thoughts, actions, and words can mend the unraveling that has begun to happen. Will it stop the inevitable meltdown that we seem stare in the face? Perhaps not. But at least at the end of the day, I know that I did not give up.
I apologize for neglecting this blog for so long. I went home, to the Midwest, for Thanksgiving and was gone from NYC for about a week. That's the tactically tangible reason. The subconsciously intellectual reason is that despite desire, I've been procrastinating my writing a post about a topic that many people are uncomfortable discussing: death. There countless songs, poems, artwork on the topic. Above I transcribed a poem by Emily Dickinson and put in a link to a Silverchair song that to me, express very poignantly my feelings toward the topic. Death doesn't care whose life is taken. Once your time is here, it's here. You cannot delay it or stop it; it's inevitable for us all. Death is what we all have in common within the human experience.
Moreover, it is because many of us are frightened of mortality that we approach death with fear and uncertainty, and duly so. When we cry at a funeral, we are crying at Eve's bite of the apple that, Biblically speaking, led to our very mortality. As we watch our friends, lovers, and relatives die, we are confronted with our own death. As a result, we never know what to do or say when a person dies aside from 'I express my deepest and heartfelt condolence at the passing of your ____'. We know deep down in our hearts that we are thankful that death did not outstretch its finger for us.
No matter what, our words and actions seem robotic and rehearsed. As a society, we don't know how to properly process death. Different societies and religions have varied responses. As Jews, we eat our emotions. Others drink their emotions. Some wear black, some white. Some people cry, some celebrate. We have open casket wakes while some spread ashes over an ocean. And we have completely different ways to process death. I process it by writing. So here we are.
My e-mail inbox has been filled lately with sad news about people within my circles of community. Some have died from disease, some from unexpected accident. Some of them are older, some young. What they all have in common is that they're all upstanding, good hearted individuals. I have been processing this question a lot in the past few weeks: Why is it that the golden hearted people who spread light have their lives cut short and the wicked, evil hearted individuals are often blessed with long life?
Don't get me wrong, I don't ever wish death for anyone, not even my worst enemy. But I think a lot about how there are people walking these streets who are greedy, crooked, nasty, and give very little thought to being altruistic and kind. Now, it may seem an unfair judgement especially since I don't know exactly what people are thinking on any given moment of any given day. But I bet money on the fact that there are more people, than you'd think, who don't give a damn about you or making the world a better place. This is especially true since both American and global society has become so focused on greed, power, and ego.
At times it is very difficult to turn on the news or even watch a television show that mirrors our society and not be hopeless and discouraged about the future. The world we live in is vastly different than even the one I grew up with. At times, I feel like the nineties world I grew up in was similar to the fifties in its innocence and conception of being safe. After the hunky dory 50's, the sixties crashed in with: the Vietnam war; the assassinations of JFK, RFK, MLK, Malcolm X, Medgar Evers; rampant racism and violent bigotry in response to the Civil Rights Movement, hidden political corruption, a dawn of serial killer 'Helter Skelter, Manson mania', rotting and rioting in urban centers, violence, death, death, and death. Similarly, after the jaded, bitchin' 90's, 2000 hit us with radical right wing born again Bush politics, a war on terrorism, the devastation of 9/11, school shootings giving way to out of control gun violence, political divisiveness and divide, an unprecedented recession and economy crash, violence, death, death, and more death. There is a strong parallel.
It is very easy today to give up hope. Now more than ever, I look to the people around me for comfort and inspiration. Lately, however, as the darkness in the world grows, I have noticed that many sources of light are flickering out, literally. Over the past few weeks, I have had many people, who are within my community circles, pass away.
One such individual (MH) was a woman who was a pillar within the Jewish community. Of the many things she did, she ran a food pantry program, out of her own home, that gave poor Jewish families food for Shabbat and other Jewish holidays. I remember when I went to her house and she showed me her basement, which was filled with food, and how inspired I was by her. Then there was the passing of a former student's mother (JG). My memory of her is when she praised my teaching methods in a conference and constantly made sure that I saw her support as a parent. At a public event, she stood up for all of the teachers while a small group of parents made unnecessary noise; she even called these parents 'ridiculous' to their face.
And though the situations and circumstances have all differed, what ties these deaths together is the fact that these individuals all contained so much light and inspiration that the world will grow darker with their loss.
ML (I'll call her M) was the first of these that I learned about right before coming home for Thanksgiving. She was a former student of mine, so full of promise and talent. I taught her literature in seventh grade, and even then, I realized that it was because of people like her that I was glad to be a teacher. I felt that she would take on the world by storm and would one day make it into the White House as a real-life CJ Cregg (Allison Janney's character on West Wing). I believed that like Janney, M would become White House Press Secretary or White House Chief of Staff. Or, maybe she would be like Hilary Clinton become a US Senator, US Secretary of State, and/or even run for President of the United States. Maybe she would become a lawyer fighting for civil rights and social justice. You have to understand that M was one of those students, who when they come along, you know that the sky is the limit.
I last saw her in May, at high school graduation, where she hugged me, being elated that I was there. She had been diagnosed with AML the past fall. With resilience, she was able to conquer her leukemia. Then, it returned over the summer and she lost her amazing battle after a bone marrow transplant. Ordinarily, this would be sad news but the fact that I taught her, added a layer of depth.
See, I was and still am very connected to her graduating class. I basically received a personal invitation from many of the students to return so I could see them graduate. I HAD to attend. The intrinsic connection I have had with this class is rare and though I'm close with many former students and families, none match the connection I had to this class of 2013. Many of the parents in this class have become my friends and many of the students will one day also become friends of mine, as they grow into adulthood. Though this class was special, also know that hearing any bad news of a former student (or their family) is like hearing bad news of my own child/family. And though I have dealt with death before, it was never in this situation.
I never had to mourn for such a young person who brought so much light into the universe. What made M's death more tragic than normal was the fact that she inspired everyone around her to be better people and attracted individuals to her like moths to a flame. People tried harder at being better individuals because her heart instructed them to do so. So when a life that young and illuminating burns out, the intensity and heartache at adjusting to the resulting darkness is immense.
And just as I was adjusting, I learned more sad news. While living in my hometown, I became very close with a particular synagogue there. The individuals I met there became my second family, as they invited me into their homes and hearts. I am also still very connected to this community despite time and distance. So learning of two individual's passing was just more than I could bare. First, a friend's wife, N (NB) was hit by a car while crossing the street. It was sudden and shocking. Again, an individual who lit up the world with kindness and who had a heart of gold. I last spoke to N in September, and after kvelling over pictures, I assured her that on my next visit, she'd get to meet my son. I thoroughly enjoyed every conversation with N because you felt how much she genuinely cared about you. She wore her heart outwardly and talking to her was like receiving a giant hug. There are not many people like her who light up the world with only a smile and a laugh.
Unlike my student M, however, I was not able to make the funeral for N. But because they both possessed a similar light, their funerals were both packed with people wall to wall. So I wasn't alone in feeling shaken and lost as a result of these two ladies' passing. The world felt the impending darkness, just as they did as a result of Nelson Mandela's death. The effect that an individual can have on one's own community is just as intense as that of a world leader.
And literally on the tails of N's death was the death of a family friend, R (RH). Like M, he had been battling leukemia and had a bone marrow transplant that was ultimately rejected. I imagine that the pain and grief for my parents, especially my dad, is immense. My dad and R were very good friends and have known one another for eons. It wasn't until going to the synagogue mentioned before, that I got to know R better. He started going to the same synagogue and we would often have conversations. He would ask me about my parents and my sister. Once, he tried to set me up with a young lady he knew because his m.o. was just wanting 'everyone to be happy'. However, I was already in a long distance relationship with my, now, wife. I will never forget the note that R sent after my marriage and birth of my son. He gushed from the heart about how proud my parents must be of the young man I had become. It was so personal and so touching, something that I did not expect from someone who I felt barely knew me. But because he was good friends of my parents, he had watched me grow up. I don't think, however, I've ever received such a heartfelt and viscerally emotionally honest note from anyone. And at the time of writing it, he was sick. For a person to be so sick, yet not only happy but also always thinking of others, is beyond my comprehension of the world's goodness.
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In the past year, there are other friends/mentors who I lost that were also sources of light for me an countless others. I feel almost as if I'm having my own personal montage of memories for people in my world that have passed on, you know like they do at the Academy Awards or end of the year news specials. To me, though, my precise memory makes my moments with these people feel like they were yesterday. That's the thing about memory. It's all we have left of our loved ones once they pass to what I see as another stage of life. Death is not an end but a beginning; it is only an end for us because we will no longer see those who have moved on in a physical sense. So with that being said, cue up the projector and music. As the year closes, I think of those individuals who have inspired me in life and who will continue to do so in death.
There was the passing of a former teacher who had Parkinsons, Mr. N (RN) who made me, an English kid fall in love with science. He would light himself on fire or throw things against the ceiling to display scientific concepts. On every quiz, students would bet on malts because at the end of each school year, he would make chocolate malts in a kiddie pool by standing in it with galoshes. My friend Heather hold the records for having the most malts. This same friend and I got to witness his last day of teaching, as we stepped into his very last eighth grade class ever and made s'mores on bunsen burners. This special moment will forever be seared in my brain. I told his students how lucky they were to have had the honor to be taught by him, as this man was both my teacher and advisor. He made us do push-ups when we were late to class or missed our homework. He turned me from a boy into a man by instilling in me what it meant to be an scholarly gentleman. What's more is that he sent notes to every student after an accomplishment, be it in sports or theater. And he continued sending notes to students in high school and even into college. When you received a note from Mr. N, you were left wondering how the heck he kept track of your accomplishments. He made every student feel special and extraordinary. If I ever write a book about teaching, I will write a whole chapter to this man and probably dedicate the book to him. It is because of teachers like him that I became a teacher in the first place.
Then there was my friend, Sandy, who I once told sounded just like Joan Baez when she sang. She was a true remnant of the sixties. Whenever we talked about politics and the current state of things, she would get so angry. But it was her anger that led to activism and action. She was involved in so much that it was hard to imagine her sleeping. She raised chickens and had a regular Noah's ark in her home. My only remiss was that I only saw her during choir rehearsals for our synagogue, as on Saturdays she would often swim instead of going to services. Her mentality was that she could just as easily be close to G-d in a swimming pool as much as a synagogue. Her life fore was so strong that when she died as a complication from pneumonia, everyone in our Brooklyn synagogue was shocked. Her death was also at the tail end of multiple deaths at our synagogue, one being the death of her own husband. My wife and I had just literally mailed her a condolence card for her husband only to be followed by another one to her children after her own death. Our entire synagogue mourned in an ocean of tears.
The mourning didn't end there, however. I also mourned the death of one Richie Havens, someone I didn't know well but who I met after giving a concert in Northampton, MA in 2006. He greeted me warmly and had a very in-depth conversation with me about inspiring the next generation. When I shook his hands, they smelled like marijuana. But the highlight, that I will never forget, is the memory of him jumping up and down on stage in a fit of glee saying how each day he wakes up saying 'thank you for another day'. His music inspired generations and he broke multiple barriers. When he died, I felt like a personal friend of mine had passed. Even the one moment I spent with him eight years ago made me feel like I had known him for a lifetime. He signed my CD 'old friend' and I truly felt like I knew him in another lifetime and was destined to find him again in this one. After I met him, in every song, I felt like he was talking to me: 'To tell the truth is what they fear. All of us here can change tomorrow.' (from my favorite song 'Pulling Up the Stone') Another light that I was sad to lose.
drum circle from Richie Haven's memorial in Bethel, NY from August 2013
I wanted to go but because I have no car, it would have been difficult. Though, I'm glad we have modern technology like You Tube so I could vicariously pretend I was actually there.
After dealing with these deaths leaves me baffled at how the universe works. It is hard, quite frankly to remain so optimistic and upbeat about the future of humanity. It is also very poetic and metaphoric that I am processing all of this during the darkest time of the year. We are literally being thrown into darkness this week, as the days are the shortest out of the whole entire year. We all feel the pull and pang of nature's cycle. But like nature, in spring, everything is reborn again. The light returns to our side of the hemisphere and we are one again bathed in light. One CANNOT give up hope because to do that would allow the darkness to eat away at our hearts. And I am certain that darkness will never completely take over and engulf us all in its grip. I truly believe that the light will triumph. And as the communities I am and have been apart of have lost the light of many individuals in the past year, their light is not lost. I believe that a person's light becomes part of G-d's light which is contributed/recycled into an eternal flame that illuminates our entire universe. I also believe in angels and know that those who touched us in life are still looking out for us in death.
The lessons I have learned and continue to ruminate on are on the matter that 1) each day is a gift to us. We each have a personal journey, a story to tell and whether we know it or not, we are touching someone and lifting them up. We might never know the ways in which we elevate another person's soul and spirit but it doesn't mean we should each, as individuals, stop being the best human possible. 2) The destination is not fame and fortune. We must follow our passions of the heart. I enjoy art and writing so I will continue to focus on these hobbies knowing fully that they won't necessarily make me rich monetarily but will certainly do so in other priceless ways. 3) We must be honest with each other. Tell a friend/family member what he/she means to you and how he/she has inspired you to become better. If you have only people who take from you and fill your world with negativity, then it might be time for a purge. I only believe in surrounding myself with people who will inject positivity into my universe because I'm only as illuminating as the people I surround myself with. Basically, LIFE IS SHORT! The world is fearful and stressful but in the end, all we have is our kindred relationships and precious memories to rely on. Make every moment of every day count for something.
Light and love,
~R~
*This post is dedicated to all of those amazing folks who I was blessed to have crossed paths with, especially to those that have died in the past year. Even in death, your light will not burn out.
Video for 'Evil Twin' by Modeselektor feat. Otto von Schirach
My worst fear is coming face to face with an evil version of myself. It would be me, but a me that has decided to use his powers for evil, not good. Have you ever had this thought? Facing an evil version of yourself? For me, it's someone who is completely selfish, haughty, indulgent, and mean. Very mean. I have had dreams where this has happened. The person looks and talks like me, walks and has the same mannerisms. However, because it's me, I also know my weaknesses and would prey upon them like a wolf to a flock of sheep. I have always known that, if I so chose, I could turn my green/blue beam to red/orange. My blunt insults and astute observations could make people melt on the spot. I could manipulate people to cower and fear me.
Interestingly, looking up the idea of 'evil twin' in google, leads me, of course to Wikipedia. We all know that there is a lot of imagery of evil twin within literature, movies, comic books, and television shows (cartoons and sci-fi namely). Interestingly, the evil twin idea comes out of Zoroastrianism. There are twins Ahura Mazda (good) whose roots are related to 'wisdom' and 'femininity'. Then, Angra Mainyu (evil) whose roots align with the concepts of 'destruction' and 'mind/spirit'. Obviously, the idea of creation and destruction are central to most, if not all, of the world's religions. It is seen time and time again in both the old and new testaments of the Bible. However, what fascinates me about the Zoroastrian concept is that good and evil are twins. It opens the possibility that we each have an evil doppelganger in existence. The show 'Fringe' definitely explores this concept.
However, even though it is fascinating, I never want to meet my alternate, evil self. In turn, I also have feared turning into an evil version of myself as this is not a self I ever cared to explore. So, sometimes I also think about the possibility of going back in time and what I'd do/say to prevent this nightmare from happening. Though it didn't happen, it very easily could have. It nearly did. For many years I was in a very dark place, fighting my own demons. In some parallel universe, an evil version of myself exists. However, what if a time machine existed? What would I change? What advice would I give to a younger version of myself to especially make sure I ended up using my powers for good?
I've been thinking a lot lately about what I would do if I could go back in time and meet myself, say 10 years ago or 20 years ago. What would I say to a 21 year old version of myself? An 11 year old version?
Maybe I'd say to ignore all the bullshit. Just tell people how you feel, exactly. Tell the kids that bully you that one day, they'll be unhappy and bald and/or fat. Tell your best teachers how they'll inspire you to become an educator. Tell your worst ones how you'll use them as an example to your students of what's laughable and pathetic. I would spend more time with my sister, getting to know who she really is. I would look around at all my friends and look deep inside of them to hold the real ones close and fake out everyone else. I would explain to my parents what their manipulation and psychological abuse would result in. I would have told myself not to give up or give in. To keep on being true to yourself and not let others define you.
I think I wrote a letter to a future self in middle school but I don't remember what I did with said letter. I probably told myself to keep writing, as my 5th/6th grade English teacher told me to never stop writing. She said that my stories showed promise and I had a great imagination and creativity. I still remember this! However, I probably told myself that I wasn't popular and that I should try to be liked by everyone. I've always had trouble with people not liking me, as I've always found myself to have a magnetic personality. Funny, charming, but a little too real perhaps. I've always vied for acceptance even if it means being friends with people who aren't really a 'friend'. I should have told myself not to sacrifice my principles or who I was just for acceptance. What else would I say?
I know that if I wrote a letter to my past self that I could send back through time, I would tell myself to explore art more. Take more art classes in high school. Get more involved in music and theater. Branch out and listen to music other than angry, angst ridden fuck off music. I would tell my past self to go out for sports, maybe track or soccer. I would talk about being okay with being alone sometimes rather than being surrounded by dozens of people who only hang out with you because you offer something. Or, maybe I would have written an inspirational speech about how I am destined for amazing things and not to listen to naysayers because they are all jealous and insecure.
I think about this a lot. And it makes me think about how I've changed but also what has remained the same. I know my core being has always remained the same. I have always loved literature and words, playing with language. I read at an early age and though my writing came a little late, I have always enjoyed books and being verbal. My verbal skills have always far outweighed my math skills. Though, now I know I'm not bad at math. I was never given the proper encouragement and perhaps with a more progressive teaching method with math, I would have excelled in the subject. Or, if I would have somehow prevented my father from ever tutoring me in math and causing all of the psychological damage that ensued. I cannot change the past, though.
What has happened, has already transpired. I'm not sure I'd actually want to go back in time and change things because everything: the good, the bad, the ugly has happened for a reason. There was a lesson in every tear and giggle, every heartache and moment of joy. The positive and negative in my life has made me who I am now, and I like who I am now. I'm confident and sure of myself. Despite setbacks and pitfalls, I have triumphed. My story could have gone a zillion different ways but I consider myself a fighter, a vanquisher of everything negative in my life.
I still have moments of doubt and insecurity but instead of throwing a pity party, I make myself make a list of changes I should make. I like making lists. They make me feel like I've accomplished something. You know, checking off that little box with an x. Then when the list has x's in every box, I move on to another list. I know what things I need to work on and what I want to achieve. Personal success is very important to me, and I always have set very high goals. Actually, somewhat unrealistic goals. For every project I ever worked on for school, my teacher would always say, "Why did you pick the hardest topic again?" I guess I just like laying out a challenge for myself. Why take the easy way out? Sometimes the triumph is not in the answer but in the path you took to get there.
I know that despite a lot of shit that I've had to deal with, I am a very positive person. I still hold myself to high standards because I believe that I will do something important. I've always had that feeling of not being quite like the other kids. Almost like I was dropped from another decade or planet. In fact, I was always convinced that a whole species exist of beings like myself on a planet that we had not yet discovered. That I had dropped to earth like Superman or was an alien being yet to be found like in episodes of Star Trek. My values never matched up with my peers, exactly. I try to view others as humans, and I judge them by their characteristics. I'm a pretty good judge of character, too. Usually my first impressions are pretty dead on. A huge leap if you ask me, since I used to judge people by what they wore. I would never talk to someone who was 'too preppy' or 'too good looking' when I was younger. I didn't trust people like that. I only trusted the weirdos, misfits, and pariahs. I guess that's why people who are mentally imbalanced feel a kindred relationship with me (I discuss this in another post: Blotter Test).
I'm proud of how far I've come, though. I'm also thinking of what I could say to my future self, however. What would I say to a 45 year old version of myself? 75?
It would go something like this:
Dear me, Don't give up. You will achieve greatness. But, remember that for some it happens at the most unexpected moment. You cannot force it. You cannot will it to happen tomorrow. You have a path that is enlightened by a greater power, and all you can do is ask to keep on this divine path of yours. You are real, an individual. You are eccentric, artistic, and beautiful. Do not forget it. And don't get frustrated if you fall down a few times. Your goals are lofty, and your head is often in the clouds. Earth can be a cold, dark place. Just remember to shine your light around and keep climbing the path until you've reached the top of the mountain. I love you.
Sincerely, ~R~
"Mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Well, I've been afraid of changing because I've built my life around you. Time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I'm getting older too." -Smashing Pumpkins (1994)- originally written by Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac (1975)
'Landslide' by Smashing Pumpkins (a fan video)
I loved the symbolism which matches up with the song's message on life!
