Rising from the Ashes

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The road unfolds before me but I barely see it.  After days of trudging through the desert, this morning finds my mind full of words.  I am awash in a flood of ideas.  My fingers clutch the steering wheel more tightly as the feathers of a mythical phoenix flutter down before the lens my imagination.

I think of the city in Arizona.  I shake my head to clear it.  Flames rise up and turn my soaring symbol to ashes.  I think of Ash Wednesday and of rising again.  My phoenix rises from the ashes and soars into the heavens.  Quickly, I am thrown back to earth.  I think of all the problems plaguing so many people, so many of those close to me.  I think of the problems that plague myself.  A desperate prayer escapes me.

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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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