Thought Process

Maybe I could do it.

Maybe I could try.

Maybe I could stop saying maybe.

Maybe I could do that.

Creation begins with the simplest of steps. A creative thought becomes a creative idea, and a creative idea becomes a creative plan. It is the transition from that last stage to the application of action that fear resides. Fear of failure, fear of looking the fool, and fear of being stranded on a wayward limb of a random branch on the tree of life. Maybe I can try and see what happens, maybe I can take a chance, and maybe I can do it.

If you take away all those may be's you will find that you are left with I can try and see what happens, I can take a chance, and I can do it.

It is as simple as that.

You see, it was only years ago that I saw a future looming in the distance, and that it was actually more tangible than I thought. From a single thought came an attainable goal, and from a single idea came a plan to make my passion a reality. A book. I could do that. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Life. It surrounds us in our waking days and in it influences us in our sleeping hours. What we do with this life is entirely up to us and us only. If you want to see the world, then take that thought and make it a goal to live for. If you want to be a teacher, then take that idea and study, study, and study some more until you are the one writing the study manuals. If you want to be a snowboard bum, then act on that desire, and become the best snowboard bum known to man or woman.

Ambition. Restraints are unnecessary in striving to touch your dreams. Barriers are easily removed and reconstructed until they are sturdy walls of confidence and strength. It is the will to live that drives us but it is the will to become something great that need urge you on. Do what you want with life, but in the end, it is doing what you will with it that makes it glorious. No longer shall you sit by as the river of opportunity rushes by and leaves you sitting by the fall line pondering if you should or should not.

You will never know the temperature of the water unless you stick your toe in.

Create. I read, write, and edit, read, write, and edit, and then read, write, and edit some more. Time builds up and time disappears, but still I sit and read, write, and edit some more. We all have a job to do, but if you love what you do then it is not considered work. For me personally, it is what I have always done, and what I will always do. To create, to express, and to one day leave a legacy for those brave enough to follow. For the ones who paved the way and for the ones who will prepare the groundwork. If creativity is the key then just show me the lock.

Plan. Even though I am the writer of my own script, it is still exciting to see what will happen. It is an anticipation of an event I knew would one day arrive. It looms in the distance, lingers around the edges of reality, waiting; just waiting. Can you feel the excitement in the air? Can you taste the success of following a dream and then one day seeing it is now real? This is life, my friends, this is why it is special.

Adversity. There is no need to watch life pass by while you are standing in the pouring rain waiting for a bus that will never come. There is no time like the present to relinquish the past, and there is no need to fear the unknown. It is in our acceptance of courage that we face our demons and see they are merely apparitions. It is in our ability to continue moving forward that we see the light of day and forget we were ever terrified of the dark.

Progress. Go on, do it, I triple-dog-double-dare-you. Be a shining star for others to hang the moon upon. Be an inspiration for your own life. Yes, I know, we must learn to crawl before we walk, but who is to say we cannot run as soon as our feet touch the ground. One step forward is one step closer to home. Forward progression is the only link to survival. Be the reason for survival; be the reason for progression.

Think. Think big. Think bigger. Think it is possible. And then one day, that thought becomes an idea, that idea becomes a plan, and that plan becomes a call to action. Listen to the words of logical advice, heed the wisdom of personal stories, and understand we all have everything needed to succeed. Know that it is in you. Know that it waits for you. But do it now while you still have the time. Do it now while you still breathe. Recognize the fear, profess the courage, and walk to where your steps fall. One foot in front of the other. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"And did you lose yourself somewhere out there? Did you get to be a star? Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?" - Goo Goo Dolls in our hands, my friends, it is

Last Days of Summer

It has passed by like the lingering scent of roses growing by the roadside; one minute, a light fragrance of Nature on a breeze, and then the next minute, gone in the finality of a season. There were many ups and downs on my road over this past summer, days spent hunched over many details, small and large; nights spent sitting in front of my computer tap tap tapping away.

And now, here I am, once again back in school, and in the last fruitful days of a late summer. The sun is setting outside and I am in full swing of another year in University, but yet so far behind I am already scrambling to catch up.

So many memories from the past five months, too many to catalogue here and now, but as always, I will give it the old collegiate effort, and at least pull one from my bag of imagery. One defining moment from a season full of them, and I can only hope you live yours as I live mine. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

There was a light mist in the air, gathering on the element of wind, and swirling all around my existence. I was on a remote island just outside the inlet of St. Paul's, on the western coast of the Island of Newfoundland, and my group and I were in the final stages of an artic tern survey. We had spent the last number of hours traipsing amuck patches of sand and rock, counting tiny eggs to check population cycles of the bird with the longest migratory route of any known creature in the free world. It had been an amazing day and it would only prove to get better.

There we were, a group of park wardens, biologists, and a writer, walking across a narrow stretch of soggy land, reciting numbers of bird eggs and hatchling creations of God. Above our heads flew hundreds of ringwells, also commonly known as seagulls, screaming at us in anger and indignation for ruining their fun and their mealtime. They are on the lower spectrum of the food chain, and scrounge for whatever will fill their bellies, and this time they were after the artic tern.

I was garbed from head to toe in rain gear, from the waterproof hiking boots on my feet to the waterproof hood pulled snugly over my head, and yet my senses were still alive with the anarchy of my environment. Birds were flying helter skelter all about me, swooping through the air and diving into the ocean to rest before taking flight once again. Yet, for some odd reason, my group was cool, calm, and collected, and focused on our assignment with calculating precision.

That, in a nutshell, my friends, was my summer. At times during the last five months, I was surrounded by distractions of destruction and pain, sunshine and rain, and fleeting episodes of a random collection of stolen moments. I would go on surveys of the abstract kind, of counting birds here, there, and everywhere, or going on exotic adventures to magical places I have never seen before. But throughout it all, I stayed true to my course, dropped seconds and minutes until they were days spent behind a keyboard and mouse, tap tap tapping away until my goal was complete.

In the midst of chaos, I was my own personal guide of safe passage into the eye of the storm; returning from the calamity of personal history, more alive and confident then when I first entered the maelstrom. The product of this journey is now waiting patiently as I edit, edit, and edit some more. But, for the most part, the second draft of my book is complete; I have no more chapters to write, and only a couple more to revise.

I am almost home. And to think that to get there, I first had to make it back to the soil I was born on. That I had to travel all the way home to truly start my journey from the beginning.

Clarity waits for us all, my friends, it waits for us all to sort through the clutter and rubbish of negative thoughts; it waits for us to deconstruct our questions until they become answers, and it waits for us to see the truth in it all. If you are working hard and the answers seem to only be farther away, then breathe deep, step back and away, and come at it from another angle. Don't give in to the naysayers who rant and rave that it cannot be done, don't give in to your fear and let doubt be the overlord of your domain, and for the love of all that is sacred and just, don't give up on your dreams.

The road may look worn, tarnished, and dull from afar, but apply a little elbow grease and some hard work, and suddenly you may realize that it is actually paved in gold. Work a little harder, work another way, but keep working on that internal drive that says I can become more, I will become more, and then, one day not so far in the future, you will see that you are more. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star." - Nietzsche