i love helicopters

especially sick helicopter necklaces. and that's all i gotta say today.

today is the best day ever

i am insanely BLESSED. it blows my mind every day. man god is good. ptl.

Hear me my friend

This road that you choose knows no end

The road less traveled looks scary round the bend

The mountains loom ever present

The oceans call ever repentant

Which do you choose the beginning or the end

Two voices calling your name

The open road that knows no fame

And her’s sweet and tame

Choose one is to die

Chin up boy no time to cry

For the other is gain

my friend wrote this poem. and i love it. i hope you will too

blissfully blinded

How blissful it is to be blinded

By a person’s light-

Light, blinding light, emanating

From their chest,

Baring their beauty and soul

For all the world to see.

So bright that it could not

Be hidden by the darkest of shades,

Making it hard to look at them

Without being knocked unconscious.

No fluorescent bulb

Or on and off switch.

No dimmer or adjustment

To the truth.

No, this light is like that of the sun,

Which faithfully shines every

Day without fail.

This light is contagious,

It ignites the candles of those near.

It is pure and good;

Radiance cast upon the

Darkest of shadows,

Reaching the smallest of corners,

Covering all.

No light shines brighter

Than that of the Lord

Working through his child.

another oldie. but a personal fav.

thanks, nate, for your inspiration and encouragement.

love me some shel

Hector the Collector
by Shel Silverstein

Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring.
Pieces out of picture puzzles,
Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.
Old chipped vases, half shoelaces,
Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boats that wouldn't float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn't toot.
Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks,
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
'Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul‹
Loved them more than shining diamonds,
Loved them more than glistenin' gold.
Hector called to all the people,
"Come and share my treasure trunk!"
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked...and called it junk.

sharing is caring

compassion (noun)- a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate suffering

i've been thinking a lot lately about compassion. i feel like in order to understand the meaning of the word it must be broken down. the prefix of the word, "com" means with or together. the word passion means "any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate". so combined, compassion quite literally means feeling a powerful feeling together. my own instinct when defining compassion is feeling bad for someone. if someone is hurt and we show compassion, we show that we "feel for" them. in fact we are not supposed to just "feel for" them but instead "feel with" them. we are supposed to completely take their feelings onto ourselves and get on their level. it is not enough to feel bad for the people in haiti; in order to be compassionate we must take their sorrow upon ourselves and share in their grief. this is far deeper than any definition i could have come up with.

to have compassion on someone, we have to get on their level. whether that be in joy or sorrow, we need to literally share their feelings to understand them and be able to alleviate suffering. we need to laugh with people, cry with people. to love with them. to step out of our own thoughts and feelings and accept those of others. compassion is a selfless and difficult act committed by a person whose love is so overflowing that it extends to and envelopes the receiver. only then can we share in passion with another person.

it seems compassion is less about feeling "for" and more about "with"

FML

i wrote this a while ago. i think it's kinda funny. maybe rude and ignorant, but kinda funny.

Ode to the Dissatisfied

To those who don’t think they are good enough,

To those who view their lives as rough,

I’ve got a word for you.

You want deep blue eyes and long blond hair,

Less flab here and more skin there,

Just listen to yourself.

To say the least you’re in good health,

And are considered to have sufficient wealth,

Which is more than many can say.

You’d rather live someone else’s life,

You complain about the most trivial strife,

How blind can you be?

Do you have any idea how lucky you are?

Do you understand how incredibly far-

Many would go to be you?