My last post here was almost 6 months ago.  It was a challenge to myself and to so many other people to take a step; jump into something new.  I’ll be honest, I inspired myself after I published it. I felt like I could take on the world and it was time to be risky. 


Then I didn’t do anything…


Plans fell a part.  Moves became too risky and I became too depressed.  I spent the last 6 months feeling like a liar because I couldn’t do the one thing that I told everyone to do.  I was paralyzed by where life had me.  I wasn’t traveling on the trips that I had thought I would.  Since the launch of this site, I have actually explored less not more.  Business moves that I had planned took a back seat and I just sat down.  I spent days and nights trying to figure out what was next for me.  I felt mediocre and stuck.

Depression is an odd thing.  It replaces so much truth and takes over your ability to think rationally.  It distorts your reality to the point that you no longer recognize anything, including yourself.  It makes you feel lost; it makes you grieve the life you thought you should have.  

I believed so many things about myself that just simply weren’t true, I just didn’t know they weren’t true.

A couple of months ago I sat down and wrote a bunch of content for this site.  I sat in a coffee shop and wrote for hours.  I hit this creative stride where felt I needed to produce my thoughts.  I need to say things to the world; profound things.  Things that seemed to important not to say.  Then I said nothing.  I published nothing.  I sat down and shut my mouth.

Right after came the anniversary of loss in my life and I mourned again.  I didn’t mourn them but I mourned myself.  I felt like I had disappointed them. I had some how dishonored their memory by not accomplishing the things that they inspired me to do. 

It is not the number of years of your life that matter but the life in those years that is important.

For me, the purpose of the pain in losing someone has always been to carry on the impact the lost ones had.  Without that, pain has no purpose other than to hurt and if that is its only purpose then we are all screwed.  That is where I ended up… I felt fucked over.  Not by God but by myself.  I let myself lose sight and in losing sight I lost the person I was.  I cared very little for myself and cared for others even less.

Do you see the perversion of truth above?  Do you see how little sense any of that line of thinking makes?  Well, that is me at times.  I get lost in it for awhile and then all at once I snap out of it.  I would always think of those times as wasted time in my life but I have started viewing them as having a purpose.  They help me hit reset and refocus.  During the down times, I spend time identifying the things that need to go so that I can push forward slightly better than the last time I had to hit reset.  Good or bad, you can learn something from every circumstance. 


So what is next?  


Lots of things. 


 On here, the only logical thing that can be next is more content. This was built to be an outlet for me because I needed an outlet. Since I was not traveling as much as I had planned when I decided to launch this little space on the internet, I felt like I had nothing to contribute.  The direction will change a bit.  I’ll write more and post photos when I have them to post and I am finally ok with that.  I am a collector of stories and it is time that I actually start telling some of them.  There are some amazing people in my life and I want to tell you all about them.

This site is like maybe 2-3% of my life, so what about the other 97-98%?  Good question.  I have a plan but it is barely a plan.  I have a few projects in the works but those could change.  I have a direction I want to move and so that is what I will be doing.  It is risky but I am ok with that and I think the people in my life are ok with that as well (if you are not, please speak now).  I have accepted that the worst thing that can happen is that I will fail and have to start over again so we will see how it all shakes out.  

The past few months I have constantly tried to remember my mortality.  I will die one day and that is ok.  You’ll die too. It will happen.  I am sorry that it will happen to you but it's going to happen. When the day comes where I am gone, I don’t want anyone to ever say I didn't try.  Even if I don’t accomplish everything, my hope is someone else picks up where I left off.   

For now, I want to leave you with this: Let’s trade stories.  I’ll buy you a cup of coffee, a craft beer or a glass of bourbon; you pick, it is on me. I want to know where you’ve been and I’ll tell you where I have been.  It’s not a competition but it is how we’ll write the history of our lives.   The only disclaimer I will give you is I may randomly snap a few photos of you so I hope you are ok with that. I'll also tell your story;  I can promise you that.  You've been through something that will relate to someone else that I meet down the road and I am going to your story because it will make a difference.  People need to know living is possible, people need to hear the stories of people who made it through.  So, I am going to share it and I am not sorry about it.   


What I am Listening to:


What I am reading: