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His achievement was not apparent in the instant. He was actually disappointed in the outcome. Disappointment became the dominant feeling, followed by fear, and leaving him with confusion. His life ended that day. It was also a beginning. The beginning of this new life was something he hadn’t considered. His fear was well founded. He had gotten to this place by his own doing, and he feared he may end up here again. But he knew something different on that day.

That day was not the same as the ones that led him there. The final straw had broken the camel’s back, but despite having done so, the day carried on. He looked at his phone and recognized the time as being significant. It was almost time for his partner to arrive home. She knew Kyle would be home, but she was not aware of the days events.

This moment brought anxiety and nothing more. He was not relieved by her presence, and the thought of her arrival filled him with dread. Would he explain what happened? Would he show her the misfired bullet? Would he carry on as though nothing had happened?

These thoughts did not last long until the anxiety faded with one realization. He realized that he was already dead. Kyle had killed himself that day. Although not physically, he was no longer the same person that pulled that trigger. In this moment, he felt relief. There was no more pressure to perform, no more demands on him to be “successful,” and no more need to hide. That guy was no more, and the man who stood in that moment was someone different, someone new.

Kyle heard keys in the front door. He heard it unlock. He watched the door open. He saw her face, and nothing changed on his. Kyle’s mind was quiet when he was her. No reaction, no explanation. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Her face curled into confusion. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Without any change in his expression, he looked at her for a long moment. “I’m leaving. I don’t know where, just somewhere else.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around herself as she began to shake. The tears flooded down her face, blurring her vision. After wiping her eyes, she watched Kyle walk to the other room as if her emotional state had not registered with him at all. But that was not the case. Kyle had registered the emotions, and he was simply not connected anymore. It didn’t matter. That was the life he chose to leave behind. That was what died that day. The decision was made, and he felt nothing but relief. She‘ll be fine, he thought as he walked away from her.

Kyle grabbed a couple of things, but he left his phone behind when he left minutes later. He left that life behind, uncertain about what came next. He was at peace with the decision because every moment that came next was a gift. He would not waste time anymore. He would no longer be pressured into being something they might like.

Simply stated, he was reborn. He did not know himself anymore, and he needed time to get to know this new world. With fresh eyes, he looked ahead for the first time in as long as he could remember. He also recognized the now for the first time ever.

That’s a quote from Jillian Turecki that is telling us how someone treats us is rarely about us. It is simply “a reflection of their capacity, upbringing, and their internal state at any given moment.”

It has nothing to do with the other person, my inability isn’t about you, and yours is not about me. They are more aptly described as the reflections of an internal state. It’s all the other stuff going on that is causing this, and it has nothing to do with that person. This revelation allows me to not take things so personally. It wasn’t me. It was them. It wasn’t them. It was me. This goes in circles and can be corrected when one realizes their own limits and how they are showing up is because of themselves, not the other person.

Regulate instead of react. Easy enough. Notice the thing and allow it. Do nothing. The less reactive one can be, the healthier their relationships become.

Turning this back inward, we can realize and retrain. Not sure how those words fit here, but let’s try. Realization of one’s own limits and capacity, one’s own present state and the various causes therefor. Retraining of oneself to be non-reactive and present. Made them fit hehe.

Learning and thinking, meditating and breathing, listening and going deeper. Aspects of a growth mindset. Little bit better every day.

A philosophy for living: Act with love. Let the rest fall in line.

I love you. I choose you, now and forever. But that does not create any obligation on your part. It is freely given, patient, kind, protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

Kyle wrapped his fingers around the grip of the pistol. The steel was cold to the touch, but the coldness didn’t bother him as much today. The sweat dried from his palms, and he no longer feared the other side. It had been months leading up to this moment. As he wrapped his hand around the grip, his index finger slid inside the trigger well. He placed the barrel of the gun against his temple, with a brief thought for the angle, wondering if the bullet would miss the vital parts and leave him horribly disfigured and brain damaged. One more breath, that’s all that remains. The exhale was slow and deliberate. A calm breath, reminding him of the meditation that no longer helped quiet his mind. The only quiet would come after the explosion happening inside the pistol. His finger squeezed the trigger, slowly at first, until he reached the end of his exhale. Kyle has made his decision, and with a bit of haste he pulled the trigger as hard as was necessary until he heard it.

Click….

There was nothing more after that moment. Kyle was left with his thoughts, and the hundred years that passed in the moment of that click. How could it have gotten to this point? What truly made him feel alive? Where had it gone?

The thoughts kept racing after the click. Kyle opened his eyes to find himself staring back at him in the mirror. There was no explosion, only a click. The thoughts stopped in that moment. He found peace and a reason. Kyle dropped the magazine from the pistol and cocked it to eject the bullet. There was an indentation on the bullet when he inspected it. That was the moment Kyle realized he was given a second chance. He made the decision, went through the action, pulled the trigger, and something else decided it wasn’t his day to die. His choice did not align with the bigger picture, and it was not his choice that won the day. In his mind, he was to be dead. To his dismay and delight, he was not dead.

A misfire saved his life. On that day, Kyle decided that he would live. Something else decided that wasn’t his day to die. He fell to the floor, weakness in his whole body as he convulsed in tears. Was this sadness or happiness? It was impossible to tell because of the circumstances. When asked years later, Kyle would tell us both emotions existed simultaneously in equal amounts. The sadness, however, quickly disappeared. The happiness turned to joy. It gave him a new perspective on what life meant. If it was so easily taken away, there must be a reason for it not to be taken from him on that day.

Was it luck, or was it fate? This question plagued Kyle until he came to realize something bigger. The luck vs. fate debate wouldn’t resolve anything for him. Even if he had the answer to that question, how would it affect him differently. The answer is what he decides. He decided to live fully, not worrying whether it was luck. He knew that he was here, and he was going to make his presence a positive for the world he continues to inhabit. He wasn’t finished, although he made a valiant effort to finish the game on his own timeline.

His life continued, and he found a zeal that hadn’t existed since before he could recall.

Inaction doesn’t truly mean doing nothing. It means doing something else.

So, till exempel, if there is an urge to reach out and say hello, ask how things are going, or just chat about the weather, the proper action may be to do nothing. There is a difficulty because some other modes would prefer the action and reaching out to.

The writing, the thinking, and the push-ups all come back to the same thing: keep the mind occupied away from the urge to action. That sentence is whack lol.

A question: what’s so wrong with action?

Kind of a thing where the words form, but there is caution to let them out. The words may be, “I love you” or “this sucks” or “life is better with a best friend” or any number of things that can’t be said. None of those things actually do much.

And now we segue to “doing.” Being someone to someone else is doing something. It doesn’t matter about the “productivity” of one’s actions (I say this with caution). Switching from “what I do” to “who I am” makes for an interesting change in perspective. It also feels like the writing is blocked by the self-conscious thoughts, the insecurities, the fear.

It could be the “one shot” mentality. There are many more shots at everything. It’s not done, unless one chooses that. This writing feels weak and pathetic. It feels like writing with a filter. It doesn’t seem to say what needs to be said. What needs to be said is a mystery. There is no convincing. There is no changing.

But there was one thing that stood out to me recently. It was the thought that using AI to write the perfect message may be less effective than using one’s own words that may be broken but passionate. It is the passion, the intent, the feeling that give the words their meaning and effectiveness. An impassioned letter has force, while words are just words, however so arranged.

Passion…

The feelings are still here/there. That is not in question. The hope is alive. That has been questioned, but it has successfully defended itself against the questioning.

I could use these words to write the story. The story is one of romance and beauty. The story could have the intended effect. That is the story of how it fell apart and how it came back together. It was not left to the divine hand, but it was decided and actively sought. Life can be left to chance, waiting for something to happen. Or life can be a sea of opportunity that gives options, and it is up to the individual to choose their option. The individual chooses their path.

The parts of life that are left to chance should be left that way because those are the things outside of one’s control. The things within one’s control should be taken hold of and directed.

Where does that leave us?

That leaves us sitting and waiting. Or does it leave us looking at everything in existence to find something that makes sense? Or could one just make a plan, take action, and win or lose feel successful?

Random random random.

Brian sat in the cafe, reading a book, sipping a cappuccino. He didn’t know if anyone would meet him. Although he had given notice and invited someone to join him at this location, there was never a response to such notice. The cafe he knew a little bit, having been there three times before. The last time, three years ago, he was there was a first date. His reason for being there on that exact day, three years later, was simple. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, someone would meet him at this cafe because they too were present three years earlier. His hope was unflappable amidst the chaos existing in his mind.

Brian sat in his seat for over four hours, just as he had done the last time. As he packed his things, a tear ran down his cheek. He didn’t wipe this tear, and he wore it on his face like a badge of honor. Brian values his tears and is not afraid to let the waterworks happen. There are reasons for his tears, and he wants nothing more than to have that conversation with someone other than himself. As he walked away from the table, he turned back, looking at the place he sat, remembering these hours and the four hours he spent there the time before.

He left the cafe, with wetness on his face. His thoughts ran wild, and he told himself to do nothing, to allow the moment to pass. He walked across the street and closed his eyes for just a moment, a long blink to center himself. He heard the sound before he felt it. Tires screeching, brakes of a large vehicle engaging, someone’s voice yelling out, a chaotic scene unfolded in the one second he closed his eyes. Panic-stricken, Brian opened his eyes and in the next moment, he felt it. The bus that was slamming on brakes made contact. He was standing directly in the road when the bus hit him. The instant felt like a lifetime. All that flashed before his eyes in that moment was the life he hadn’t lived yet. The woman of his dreams, their children, living life together, growing old together. He was violently thrown to the ground, and it was now the sound of bones breaking that filled his ears.

He laid on the ground, in what looked like a pile of jagged edges and improper bends for an arm and a leg. The blood running down his face filled his left eye, and he couldn’t lift his hand to wipe it clean. People started to gather around him, and someone called for an ambulance. He felt the pain, and screamed when the realization of what happened settled in.

A face from the crowd around him got closer. It was her face. She ran to him and kneeled by him. She placed a hand on him, not minding the blood that now covered her hand. Tears ran down her face. As he looked through his one good eye, he saw her, really saw her. But she was fading. As he looked at her, the lights got dimmer, as if an eclipse were happening, but there was no eclipse. He wanted to speak but could only let out tiny sounds of pain. He wanted to hold her but couldn’t lift his arms. He wanted to see here, but his vision was fading fast. He screamed louder than before but still couldn’t manage words. In the moments after the scream, she spoke. She apologized for being late. She was trying to get there four hours earlier, but she was distracted and lost track of time. She thought she had time, she said in a flurry of words and emotions. It’s not certain whether Brian heard those words. Her eyes filled with tears as the life left his. Brian died that day, his heart was filled with joy as he faded. She showed up, he thought. That was enough for him. The world kept turning, and Monday came like any other.

Breathe with me. We’re here together. I’m with you. Nothing can happen. Breathe. I love you.

It doesn’t matter what you do, I love you. Love does not have to be earned or questioned. There is no doubt about the love. The space is kind and loving. The time is yours, and I will be here through the storms and sunshine. As much as bubbly water is nice, still water receives the same admiration. Bubbles, no bubbles, doesn’t matter, the life-sustaining water is appreciated all the same.

I’ve learned a bit about this topic of safety, and all of it points in the same direction. The key appears to be grounding oneself to allow space for others in their experience. It has also been said to be incorporating the shadow self. It might also be called embodiment. There is another side of embracing the feminine. Yet we may also call it healing. Some others could use the word self-compassion and mean something similar.

Many names for the same thing. The thing is allowing emotional experiences without reacting with defensive mechanisms. The defenses are designed to ignore or eliminate the uncomfortable emotions. There is a whole body of thinking about why this may be the case, and childhood starts most of it. It’s the unconscious behaviors that were learned and never questioned. One thing may be learned by some and another thing learned by others, but the working theory is that healthy patterns require knowledge and conscious observation and decision.

Reactions are the opposite of conscious decision. It’s the automatic response, the one that doesn’t take time to determine what might be appropriate. But it reacts with safety in mind. By reminding myself that I am safe, no danger is present, I can remain in control of the response. This is high ideals, wishful thinking, and the intended course of action.

I choose to be safe for myself. I choose to love myself no matter what. I choose to act in ways that make myself proud. I am here for others in the same way I am here for myself. How I treat myself is how I treat others.

There was a time when I would choose differently. I would harm myself to harm others. It’s been a long while since those choices where popular or prevalent. I used to wonder why I was acting in such a manner. I had thoughts, and I didn’t understand those thoughts were not me. I began to identify with the thoughts, and defined myself by what I would randomly think. It has since been explained and understood that the first thoughts are not “me.” The “me” is the one who can see the thought and determine what to do with it before action is taken. Then after proper discernment, action can be taken with a set of higher ideals and higher purpose. That’s all past, but the habits to counter-think remain present. The skill expands capacity, and the ability to stay present increases.

That’s where safety is based. I know the answer, and yet I don’t understand many, many things. This ramble has rambled enough.

There’s too much to say to explain the change. The explanation does little more than try to give words to a theory. The practical application is where the interesting part happens. That becomes the feeling experienced in any specific interaction with self or others.

It’s all good. No one needs to hear the change. It can be seen and felt. They will know when they interact with me. I don’t need to tell them. I don’t need to convince anyone. Those who are unwilling to look will not know. Those who are unwilling to see, despite looking, are stuck in their own world. It is not my responsibility to help anyone except myself (this statement could use refining because there are responsibilities to others, partner, children, friends, strangers, etc.). The key here is to help myself so I am capable of helping another. Put my own oxygen mask on first. Airlines have been teaching this for decades.

Before I can help someone, I must first ask if they want help. I need permission. I am not here to change anyone. I am, however, here to help. I’m here. All I can offer is my presence as a witness and cheerleader to another. I want the best for them. If someone asks for my help, I give it, within reason. This is not a compulsive need to help, but it is a recognition that the purpose is to make this a better place for those around me.

Safety. I may have messed this up by trying to help where help wasn’t asked for. Helping when it’s not asked can have the effect of making someone think they need to change, like what they did was wrong or unacceptable. This happened recently, and I had the chance to try and help someone act in a way that I thought was better. It was a selfish act. I didn’t have to do this, and I may have justified it by saying I was helping them. I wasn’t though. I only made them feel like they were doing something wrong. That didn’t help. It is more likely the advice will not be taken, and the person will continue with how they acted with the slight addition of thinking they don’t want to do this around me because of the ensuing judgement. Perhaps a full explanation of how I feel affected by their actions could illuminate why I find the behavior less than ideal. If I give that explanation, there is a chance that I will be convinced of how wrong I am, and I will be the one to change. Without the explanation, I can tell myself what I think is true and continue to think they don’t understand. If there is a recognition prior to the action, then the action can be avoided, the explanation never needed, and the judgment can be avoided. The shame or contempt can be avoided by saying nothing. The negative thoughts can be replaced with happy ones. Judgment is replaced with compassion.

What’s the difference between compassion and pandering sympathy?

I have an answer that takes more of this page than I wanted to write today. Pandering sympathy just says “you’re absolutely right, they are wrong” without regard for the situation. It’s almost enabling. It’s the statement that says “everything happens for a reason.” Compassion is different because it meets the person where they are and allows them space to just be. It says, “I’m here with you, you don’t need to rush.”

There was no time limit. We had the rest of our lives…

This little dude looks like he’s having a terrible time, but in a funny way.

That’s why taking notes is important. There are several points in this book that are great lessons, and other points in the extra chapters that have Adam thinking in ways that don’t seem realistic. But that might just be it’s so different from what I might think that it’s not “realistic.”

I wish I had spent that time becoming a better person, because she deserves the best. I feel that. I wish I had been ready when the opportunity came. Adam feels this. That’s a bit too much fun to think about. It’s a tough one for him to think he’s not prepared and then be prepared. What if he wasn’t prepared? What if Olive didn’t like it? What’s our book doing down that road?

Our girl is in love, and that is something that gives the chance, gives the understanding, gives the benefit of the doubt.

Adam is so dreamy…

But in truth, I loved it. This book taught me so much, and I am grateful for having read it. The mystery of life is unfolding in these pages. Why, I might ask, and the answer was tucked away in the pages of books. The answer to life’s greatest questions have been answered, and those answers exist in books. It doesn’t have to be so hard, this learning thing. It doesn’t have to be, but the difficulty level is chosen by the player. The ability to humbly read and incorporate the ideas of others who have not lived this life is one thing that can be learned.

That idea needs some work. This book, however, needs no more work. The ideas are complete in their own time. On the anniversary, they share the same kiss. That sounds lovely to me, meeting at the same spot on the anniversary and recreating the first kiss. We could recreate a first kiss moment, and it would be glorious.

I remember where and when. It was at the table all the way to the left when one walks into the cafe. I was sitting against the wall, and she sat facing me. There was a butterfly tingly sensation inside me when she spoke of the universe, and I couldn’t help myself but to lean over the table and kiss her. Now, maybe I should have asked permission to kiss her, but I didn’t, and the moment felt so right. The sparks flew when our lips touched. I was so nervous that I had just messed up, that I was too much too fast. The moment was so right, and her lips felt like home for mine. This felt fated and designed by cosmic forces, the stars aligned as our lips drew near, and the instant of contact felt like everything that had come before led to this moment, as though every moment after would be a continuation of the bliss started with that kiss.

Tom will hopefully be fired. Because it’s a rom-com wannabe book, then it would definitely have the happy ending we are looking for. Another prediction of mine, and we’ll see. I like this book and how it shows a few insights into how Olive feels and thinks. I’m kinda holding back here a little bit because the deeper feelings from this book are tough to discuss in public.

I hope to be more like Adam. I would like to have that kind of impact and cause such feelings to arise in my lady too. I also completely understand grabbing someone against the wall and feeling a rage against them for harming the woman he loves.

That’s all….

that’s pretty cool that it has a little widget. Practicing my Zen today