3 Simple, Proven Ways to Start Your Day Off Better

“With something this disproportionate in their effects, how can we afford not to make time for them. You can do them in as little as three minutes each.” – Stephen Passman
Ladies and Gents, I cannot communicate the value of this advice; It is worth reading and applying.

3 Simple, Proven Ways to Start Your Day Off Better.

Water-Tight Tethers: Surviving Peace before the Storm

“Rain has always fascinated me, it is one of my favorite things in life. As a child I would watch the rain from my bedroom window and imagine the ocean, a storm, a ship, a lighthouse. A story would play out in my mind as the rain hit the window. I would imagine being a raindrop falling into a great river, I would travel to the sea and begin a grand adventure.” – Brittany, from Ramblings at Night: Water

Brittany, a friend whose friendship warms my heart, unhinged a door to my thoughts after writing the above. “One of [her] favorite things in life…” illustrates life itself simply and powerfully. In my mind, a raindrop falling into a great river resembles new birth, and the sea’s grand adventure mirrors our traversing through life. The ocean’s personality may, at times, prove tumultuous, harsh, and uncaring towards travelers (us); at other times, it may prove tranquil and peacefully harbor us in mare pacificum. However capriciously or idyllically life’s current moves us, we ought to scour the horizon for the lighthouse, fix our coordinates, and sail steadfastly.
Growing up, I loved to watch the rain pour outside and rarely failed to escape the house to play with full throttle. I explored the myriad of canals that only come to life when it rains, making leaf-boats to war with the waters ’til they reached the channel’s end. Having grown, when life thrusts me to and fro, I mentally remove myself from the storm and relocate inside the house, beside the window, and watch the storm.

Baltic Sea (Darlowo)Picturing life in moments, or as a story, reminds me that living is like writing a book that only a few select individuals will read – my family and dearest friends. Each chapter is new, displaying both tribulation and triumph. Characters come, go, and a few remain, but I, I am constant ’til the last period, death. I reflect on the question: “Am I writing a story worth reading?” When storms battered the ship deck and put the mast to the test, did I remember my anchor? The lighthouse? Or did I allow my attention to be diverted and locked on the dissonant churning of the waves?

Will I be able to proclaim:

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

– Robert Frost, from the Road Not Taken

Unwrapping Time: Living Present

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“There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live.” – Dalai Lama

Presence:

The culture in which I live interprets eye contact into various meanings: strength, care, respect, presence, etc., and each interpretation accompanies a degree of value. Presence occurs when two or more parties, engaged in discourse or the sublime company (or not so sublime company) of one another, come to an understanding of each person’s mental or spiritual presence. By U.S. sociocultural standards, little to no eye-contact in conversation translates as little to no attention/engagement/presence in the discussion. Making healthy doses of eye-contact during conversation tells the other party you are there – it tells the other party you are present.

Past and Future:

The past and the future belong to everyone; the past has helped and hurt most everyone, and the future has only yet to do so. Overly focusing on the past dwindles strength for today in that the strength used to perform yesterday is still in use as though the show never ended. Overly focusing on the future disrupts today in that the after-party is preemptively begun in the mind, confusing the immediate scene. Focusing on today rejuvenates the strength to satisfy today’s own needs and budgets the mind’s thoughts, mentally stabilizing for tomorrow.

Present Presence:

Focusing on today is making eye-contact with the present moment, being present in the present. The door leading to the past is locked; the threshold leading to the future is still being built – each of us exists in the same room of time – now. Shall we withhold love ‘til the future comes? The future never comes. Shall we falter in faith because experience (past) “taught” us better? Experience ought to redefine, renew, and fortify faith. Shall we put off “doing” today? If the past taught us anything about the future, it is that things change; today is the only opportunity to do. With the past behind me and the future before me, here I am betwixt and between alongside the present – now.

“…I looked in my rear view mirror to switch lanes. Then an idea formed in my mind. I have to use my mirror to look behind me in order to drive safely; however, I can’t continue to look back otherwise I will wreck. I believe this is like life; it’s important that we look back but if we continue looking back we sacrifice the life we’re living now.” – Brittany Echols, from Looking Back…

 

I See Dead People: An Old Adage

“In America especially, we are wrapped up in what people think of us. Our entire [culture] is grounded in cliques, social status, and brands. The core of this groundwork is the “need” to have the right people like you. Since when has that mattered? Are you running for a political office? If the answer to that question was no, then focus on you, not them…” – Phill Easley,  from You Are What You Love

Referring to and moved by the simple quip “You are what you love, not who loves you”, Phill continues to delineate on a number of identity issues to which several souls succumb: many people identify themselves via the identity of a significant other; certain people, perhaps, identify themselves solely by a political or socioeconomic class; and others, even identify themselves in terms purely based out of religious conviction. These are but a few sources anyone can draw from the identity pool: ethnicity, sociocultural stigma, marital role, career choice, technological devices (phones, gadgets, computers, gaming systems, etc.), internet (Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Blogs, etc.), and so on and so forth. None of these even slightly relate to who a person is. If all the of the aforementioned identity-bubbles were painted grey and popped, what is left? The inside is left; you are left.

The initial clause, “You are what you love…”, is inspirational; the latter clause, “…not who loves you.”, is liberating. Most people find peace in something – even if that something is nothing in particular. Most times, people are inhibited from doing that something by: physical barriers, metaphysical barriers (e.g., others’ expectations; self-imposed expectations), depression, demotivation, a career path or lack thereof, and the list goes on. That anyone’s peace-bringing something, or nothing in particular, would be suppressed by external or internal forces is grievous.

If we live without allotting some or much of our time for the something that makes us, us, then our life lived without our something is devoid of truth. If a lie is presupposed not to exist, then our pseudo-us may also be presupposed not to exist. If you fail to do what makes you, you; you, though existing, fail to live. Ignorance of one’s self is ignorance of life – a special form of death. The initial clause, “You are what you love…”, represents your something; the latter clause, “…not who loves you.“, represents your something unshackled.

“What do you love? What of you, by you, and from you is so inseparable from your being that its very absence would make you stop being you? That is who you are. And it is only through discovering what you love–that inmost core, hardwired into the recesses of your soul– that you find you.” – Phill Easley,  from You Are What You Love

Draped with Chains: The Important Thing I Allowed Myself to Lose

There was a time in my life when I would battle within fortified castle walls, luxuriously abide in a mansion, and plot devious operations within the confines of my personal headquarters: my treehouse. Sometimes my treehouse served as a cabin where I would vacate from childhood woes and home life; as if either were not, in reality, quite nearby. I would retreat to the five-foot by five-foot loft on cool nights and sprawl my body across the gaping floorboards. If it were raining, I would peer out the somberly small square window, relaxing as I observed the rainfall.  My treehouse was what Lemony Snicket might call a “sanctuary.”

Formed out of semi-solid planks and glazed with chipping paint, my treehouse walls sheltered me with adamancy, sobriety, and the caring craftsmanship of my father. It was magic fortified with wonder.

These days, my dilapidating treehouse door refuses to allow my entrance; Life, who instructed me to grow up, locked the magic inside. The entrance is barred shut by others’ expectations of success and approval. Misplaced priorities and responsibilities concerning education, finances, and careers shut the window I once peered through. The world forged drapes of chains out of a cast-iron obsession with greed, power, and sexual inclinations. Common notions of how man ought to live, with and without faith, crucified the magic which hemmed me in.

No more will I allow the harrowed magic to remain as such. Jesus called us to be as one of the little ones, a child. Confidently, I pray that His grace and Spirit, dwelling with and within me, transform me into an all-seeing-child.

The life of a child is simple and undefined, allowing the father to guide and nurture it. The splendor of creation is my new treehouse, sheltering me with adamancy, sobriety, and the caring craftsmanship of my Father above. Its doors are open, unbound and abounding with magic and wonder within. Christ broke the bars of expectations. God’s grace swung open the window, and His unbearable peace shines through, illuminating the loft with his grand working and schema. The cast-iron drapes we forged are unlinked, scattered, and falling through the floorboards gaping with His Spirit’s breadth. God’s notion of how man ought to live is resurrected with the Son, restoring us to childlike magic. I am a child once more.

“…people die in monotony every day. Pain and euphoria remind us that we are alive. If the magic ceases to exist, then life is pointless.” – Autumn Jade Monroe