May I?

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Photo courtesy of Flickr: Creative Commons. Aunt Owwee’s Photos:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/aunto/

May, I?

It’s May first.  How can I resist this title served up to me on the platter of time and circumstance?  May 1st is a gift.

My empty feeling has passed.  Instead, I feel filled up to my eyeballs with stuff and clutter that I don’t want to claim anymore.  I’d rather open the windows of my mind and start tossing things out to the street below.  Children, looking like the cast from Oliver, fight over the stuff I’m tossing down.  (Do commas really go there?  I toss the question down with all the other things.)  When I was a child, I thought like the children below do.  I fought to hold on to everything that came my way.  That was only yesterday.  The boundary between adult and child is constantly shifting and changing moment to moment, day to day.  In this moment, there are poor, ragged children fighting over my poor hand-me-downs.

This has been one of the hardest things: the holding on of these poor hand-me-downs that mark where and who I’ve been.  So many of these things don’t do a very good job.  They weren’t me at all but rather someone I thought I was or who someone else thought I was.  It’s easy to get lost and confused.  No wonder I want to clear out some space.  I’m too full of all that I am not.  It’s just too crowded in here.  Some things have got to go.

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I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.

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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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