there are things in this life...

that I do not think I was made to understand.

There's a lot going on these days with friends and family, some of it I understand and some I don't--> and probably never will. Day in and day out, I listen to people's stories. The things they've experienced, and more often, the things they have survived. It makes me question humanity, the things I hear. The atrocities we commit against our fellow (wo)man are mind blowing. Lying, cheating, stealing, assaults of every kind, substance abuse, neglect, suffering...I can't help but think that this is not what our creators had in mind.

The story was not supposed to be this way.

At times I think of myself as a journal, a place where secrets are stored. Mine, yours, the person walking down the street. We all need a place to keep our stories, no matter how painful, so that others may learn from them. Our stories make us who we are, they shape how we interact with the world...it's like Shakespeare, "All the world is a stage, and we are but players in it".

What does your story say about you?

I believe that it is possible to change the outcome of our stories, but in order to do this, we must make sacrifices. We must make ourselves vulnerable. We must move into the unknown, where there is no map, no right way.

...just free falling...

Sometimes that means making some of the most difficult decisions of our lives, ending relationships, changing careers, saying you're sorry. It's taking personal responsibility for your part in the story, and it's impact on the characters around you.

It's taking a personal inventory.

What's in your closet?