Not My Words.

I wish I could take credit for something, anything good I’ve done. However, I am able to say with great joy I cannot. I cannot take any compliments for I am at best a tool used in the process of someone’s life. What I can take credit for are the mistakes. I have made plenty, have suffered, and have learned from them. Choosing to see the benefits in mistakes and removing judgment and guilt, old habits die hard. What I am able to do and say, if I allow the words to come rather than coming up with my own motive is way better than anything I could have ever created. Words dance in my head waiting to be birthed. Concepts that I am unable to develop until I sit down and write. I want to say these words are the words from God himself, but unfortunately the words cannot do HIM justice.



A memoir exposing the internal thoughts that
plagued my own life. 

Helping in the world takes more sacrifice than I expected, and in ways I never thought. I was willing to “work hard,” though the “hard work,” has to be done in ways that made me uncomfortable, and things in the past deemed, “not for me.” Actions like talking to people outside of my comfort zone, or donating resources I have justified as my own. Breaking out of my own competitive view of life and seeing the good in people, in all occurrences. There is no, "one and done." There is no check mark on this box, ever. What there is though is a continued habit-building where what I get out of it is less restrictions, more acceptance, and experience more people with more information. The world is a wealth of experience and we have the opportunity to hear the stories, if we listen that is. 

I never wanted to listen either, another difficult thing to designate “hard work,” to. I wanted to create and control. I wanted people to do what I wanted, how I wanted, see things from my perspective, much like most of us do, however do not care to admit. What listening provides to the one who chooses to practice, is riches on earth and again, in Heaven. 

Bibliography pages of life would be too numerous to count for everything we have learned and live by. Some things are first-hand, others are reference material too convoluted to name and too ingrained to recall origin. I forget where much of my own knowledge comes from, but know it wasn’t mine. I am not that intelligent, I have not ever managed to produce anything but another human body. Even in that, my part was minimal. In this pool of information where I have picked and chose what I choose to live by, what principals I learned and how to apply them, one thing remains true. None of this was mine. 

These words are atoms formed on a computer screen typed with intent from a mind telling the fingers to produce. The concepts come from the same mind. The mind that took all the information throughout an entire 32 years of existence and put ideas together that others can then gather and use for their own purposes. The mind’s ability to release and catch neurotransmitters started from a flicker, a thought, a recognition too late to catch the act. The neurobiology only discusses the pathway and the passing from one synaptic cleft to the next. The brain is not this simple, the thoughts are more complex in their development. For this reason, these thoughts that started the whole process are not my own, but produced from something else, something higher. 

I am not worthy of the title of anything. I am merely moving my fingers over keys with intent to help, hopefully. Many intentions fall flat. Without choosing the right information to interpret and use, then this one may miss the mark as well. The information presented is nothing more than a place holder. A product developed that at the very least is the absence of evil, negative, destructive words. The people who read this material, even if they simply glance at it and nothing more, have taken the place of another worldly topic to reinforce the worst parts of us. I am not the light. I am not close to anyone worthy of any attention. This I have realized about myself long ago. What I was able to accept is that I care. I care for people, their woes, and have a fraction of knowledge to at least listen, if not form a sentence to show them somebody, somewhere, cares, and nobody is ever alone. Comfort, validation, love, things we are seeking in this world. These things a journey, not a destination. Love is never complete, it is a process. Comfort, validation, they too are felt, though can pass without work. 

Words from any man, not theirs, not if it was that good, that powerful. Those words were inspired from somewhere else and presented by their author. The philosophers before us, the writers of the greatest publication ever, all give credit where it is due, to those who came before them and them before them, and so on, until there is no one left to take the credit but God. The one and only, who has been here since before here. The one who is. 

"If it shall please God that I write more books. Blessed be He. If it shall not please him, again. Blessed be He. Perhaps it will be the most wholesome thing for my soul that I lose both fame and skill lest I were to fall into that evil disease vainglory." - C.S. Lewis 

This world will fall. Not on a timeline like man wants. The time is not now, but is upon us, for it has been upon us since it started. Nature is intended to destroy itself, continuing to advance towards inevitable death. Man, with our minds and intent seem to be speeding up the process with our misinterpretation of information causing our journey to love, comfort, peace, to derail and causing a series of problems. Adam and Eve took what wasn’t theirs and since then man has been cast away from God, this until he sent his son to die. It is this comfort that I am able to perform anything. 

When the intent was for self, as I have done before, the meaning, the product, flat. Every day I now bear witness to what I do as though I am watching, not making. It is not me or my strength that allows my body to do these things, but it is something else, something higher, something both up high and within, that comforts and loves, thus allowing the words to form. Am I listening? This is up to me. Not all times are good for creativity. If I am not listening, the words deleted, the computer melted, all those hallow representatives for selfish ideals, destroyed. Why, because they have no value, not if they are for recognition in this world. With her flaws, and desires that pull from God, the only thing that is real. 

I do not like artificial, so then why would I fall for the thrones of riches and wealth of pleasure the world offers. They are nothing but things, atoms, pieces of the earth put together by man to be something deemed of value. These things are not what satisfies. I desire purpose. The best part is, my purpose and therefore my satisfaction are never done, never complete, not until…. Yes, death brings about it a sweet victory that my job here is done and I will be exposed to the mysteries of life outside of this body, these boundaries of flesh. 

I will not fret, nor cry in heaven, I will look upon those left behind with love, knowing that if they could know what I knew then, that the time we have here is best served outside of our selfish desires. I would know they needed to know. 

My life has been blessed. I had been raised to believe, to trust, to rely, as we would a bridge. The only questions came from me. As a child I took for granted and the versus in the Bible fell short to ears that were not yet ready. 

While I am here, a small tinge of pain always pecking at my being. Death waits, she reminds me that my heart is one beat away. The organs are one cell mutation off from a cancer eating all physical parts of me. Death, life, they are similar here. They are both guaranteed in us, the living humans. We were given both, we were given options, we have choices to make. I can choose to WILL my way to prolong suffering, or allow what is to happen, happen. Getting outside of self helps identify just how much self one was obsessed with. I have given myself away anyway. God owns this soul, for he always has, it was just up to me to acknowledge it. I have allowed thy will be done, not mine. This makes me the wealthiest man on the planet. Soon enough to be equal with the angels among the clouds. 

This is my intent anyway. Something I fail at daily, hourly, in fact. 

God Bless. 

For a look at suffering of a certain type, click here.