Titles v. Power

Happy Tuesday. It’s a cold January evening, and I’ve decided to sit down and write what I have been thinking and feeling for a few days. Let me begin with this; each weekday morning, I wake up at 5:00 am. For those of you who get up at that time, you get it. It sucks! For those of you who aren’t required to, thank the Universe for aligning in your favor. Nonetheless, without going into the weeds, I wake up at 5:00 am each weekday morning. After slowly entering the shower, I quickly exit the house. I turn on the Russ Parr Morning Show, put my car in drive, and off I go. Purposefully, each morning, I make the same stop. I stop at Wawa for my FAVORITE cup of coffee. It doesn’t matter if the weather is hot, cold, snowing, raining, storming, hailing, etc., I stop at Wawa. As I walk in, I’m always careful to hold the door for fellow huemans, and I gradually make my way to the coffee. After a few “good morning” salutations, each day, I greet the same face; Theresa. Now, Theresa might stand about 5’3, she wears a Wawa hat, and most importantly, she wears that same friendly smile each day. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, knows Theresa. She is one of the first people that I begin my day with everyday. For that, and that alone, I am blessed, for both patience and friendship decided to grace me with her presence. Like me and most, Theresa lives paycheck to paycheck. She has no secretary. She doesn’t have fancy things. Honestly, I don’t think she cares. However, what I’m certain that she never considered is that she possesses one very important quality; she has Power. You see, Theresa empowers not only me, but everyone that she interacts with to engage the best parts of their uncertain days each morning. As I enter the store exhausted, I leave enthused. Theresa… Now, I have arrived at my point. You see, there is a distinct difference between those who have titles and those who have Power. Those who have titles have wonderful things. They have corner offices in beautiful buildings. They have corporate cards with infinite limits. They have beautiful homes that echo due to space. They have cars that talk, drive themselves, offer massages mid-ride, give sound that rivals the beauty of symphonies, and cost more than the average person makes in a few years. They sit on boards with other people with titles and they discuss very important things. Their names are usually followed by abbreviated alphabets that are aligned with years of study and preparation. They worked for, and earned, the title. As a Black Man, when one of our own are bestowed with a title, it seems as though our entire metaphorical village celebrates. “One of us making it in will make it better for the rest of us.” That’s the line that’s often quoted. Here’s the truth. While they sit in the corner office, they rarely, if ever, own the building. Many are so afraid to use the corporate card, they never do. I guess they understand their limits. The homes are leased by the bank while those with power own the people who call those houses home. While their cars do more than most, they go to the same place everyday; their jobs. When you call what you do your purpose, you are officially job-free. Jobs require work, while purpose flows from Love. There is no competition between the two. While their names are followed by abbreviated alphabets, none, and I mean none, actually spell this powerful four letter word; F-R-E-E. You see, their titles are often recycled, and they come with a price. Then, there are the Powerful. The Powerful are rarely, if ever seen. Yet, their impact is felt everywhere. The Powerful make changes while those with titles ensure that those changes are on par with expectations. The Powerful move people to change. Those with titles change the way that people move. Here’s the thing with Power; Power can only be bestowed by the Universe. Titles are given by people. Power is never forgotten. We elect presidents every four years. Power builds. Titles use the phrase “don’t sleep” because it knows it’s days are numbered. Mothers have the most immense Power of all; they are the Givers of Life. Fathers have Power. They have the Power to Give Love. Brothers have Power. They have the Power to Give Where Their Fathers Couldn’t. Sisters have Power. They have the Power to Listen When Their Mothers Couldn’t Bear What They Were Hearing. Friends have Power. They are the Keepers of Our True Secrets and the Naked Places In Which We Can Unapologetically Be Ourselves. Money doesn’t mean Power. Money only buys things. Power.. Power changes things. I’m not certain if you can see it, but there is great Power within you. It doesn’t matter if you can’t pay your bills. It doesn’t matter if you’re overweight/underweight. Who determined what weight should be anyway? Probably someone with a title. It doesn’t matter if you’re light or dark, gay or straight, republican or democrat, northern or southern, religious or not. You have Power. Dig deep within yourself and find that quality within you that personifies the very reason you were born. Darkness hides. Light both shows and grows. Be the Light. We are all Powerful. Never, and I mean never, allow anyone with a title to make you feel as though you’re not Powerful. If they try, smile, walk away, and rest assuredly in knowing that they can’t sleep because they exchanged their true Power for a title……..Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything….

The Right Type of Black. The Right You.

First of all, let me say HAPPY NEW YEAR! It’s 2023, and we are officially off to the races. I hope that your year is beginning with hope, Love, and Joy. I hope that you are ready for this ride that we call a new year. It’s crazy to me that the year seems so long, yet it passes so quickly. For me, I am committed to greater spiritual, intellectual, and emotional growth this year. As I grow older, I seem to feel deeper, see clearer (although I currently need new glasses), and desire less material things. For the first time in my life, it seems as though my head, heart, and body are in sync with one another. Let’s keep it real; for some men, the body easily wins battles that both the head and the heart are emphatically against. Me, I have fought those battles. Hell, I still have the scars. Thankfully, those days are behind me. Now, let’s jump right into it. For a great portion of my Life, I have struggled with being the right type of Black. If you’re wondering what that means, let me help you out. The desire to be the right type of Black means feeling secure no matter the environment one is placed in. For example, throughout the course of my life, I have frequently felt too hood to be suburban, too suburban to be hood, too educated to know, understand, and recognize the struggle, too scorned by the knowing, understanding, and recognition of the struggle to appreciate my education, too genuinely Black in a room full of White people, and too “cultured” (code word for acting White. No one gets this!) to be down in a room full of Black people. Talk about exhaustion! Yes, feeling like that is exhausting. Therefore, I decided that I was going to be me in all rooms. I am authentically me in all rooms. It took me years to get here. I had to understand that no matter what you do, everyone is not going to like, appreciate, or understand you. It’s just that simple. I have learned that as long as I like, appreciate, and understand myself, all can, and should be well in my Universe. Again, it took me years to get to this stage in my Life. How did I get here? Well, when I was a child, I was constantly compared to others. “Look at this person, look at them. You should be more like them.” I was seemingly given a microscope that allowed me to see all of my flaws. Yet, I never received the confirmation of my worth. Therefore, I spent much of my life trying to find it. I had to lose me in order to find me. Through my confusion, I found clarity. To you, I’ll say this. You are very special. You are uniquely you, and as a result, the world is a better place. I know that there are things that you want to change. I know that you are fully aware of those things. However, what are the things that make you both special and beautiful? Do you know those things? What are some things about yourself that you would never change? What is your individual magic that you feel, yet either can’t or won’t speak of? These are the things that make you the right type of you. Honestly, when I meet people, these are things that I look for. Being you in all environments is both empowering and enlightening. Being you is beautiful. As I am me, may you beautifully be you. May we all be better as a result. This is going to be a beautiful year….Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Stuck.

I know my problem. It’s so obvious that I’m sometimes frustrated and ashamed of myself. Tonight, I needed a smooth drink and the soft and comforting sound of Alex Isley’s voice to get this out. Here it goes. I’m stuck. I’m stuck between my memories and my dreams. I’m stuck between yesterday and tomorrow. Neither of them hurt. In fact, the only thing that hurts are the times when I snap into the now and realize that I’m not there. That hurts. Yesterday, I was hurting. The pain still lingers today. Yesterday, I learned of the death of DJ Twitch. Damn Man…. We never met, but you hurt me. Was there no one to call? Was there nowhere to go? Was there nothing left to do worth giving one more day to? Did you run out of dreams? Was the wonder of yesterday no longer warm? I wish today included you. I really do. I am no stranger to where you were when you did what you did. Trust me, I’m not. Me, I lacked either the courage or faith to move forward. I chose a different path because my faith is louder than my despair. However, you…. You gave more than you took. You shined when I couldn’t. You danced when my feet and hips couldn’t agree with one another. You smiled when my cheeks were too heavy for my face to support them. I’m sorry this was your choice. I’m sorry your reality made you feel like this was a viable option. I hope that you’re free now. I really do… Me, my memories are still wonderful because I can choose the best of them. I choose happy rides on the city bus over fearful nights in my home. I choose the smile of my Mother over the rage of my surroundings. I choose Sunday greens and fried chicken over empty stomachs and closed minds. Tomorrow, you; you are perfection. You are exactly, and only, what I desire you to be. Tomorrow, you promise that my house is full, my bed is warm, and my life is complete. Tomorrow, I will never cheat on you because you always forgive me for the things that I either can’t, or won’t, do today. I’m in Love with you Tomorrow. Today, we’ve got issues. I feel like you don’t see me, and I can honestly admit that I don’t quite see all of you. With closed eyes and clinched fists, I endure you. Perhaps you do the same with me. I can’t help but feel that perhaps, we should both approach one another differently. If you allow me to feel safe, I promise to open my eyes. If you can help me understand that both tomorrow and yesterday include you, I promise to relax my hands. If you can convince me that my choices about you are directly aligned with my consequences, I promise to breathe deeper and accept. I don’t want to be stuck. I want to be free. I’m not sure if you know, but secretly, I have learned to Love all of me. Isn’t that something? I’ll trust you and say it again; secretly, I have learned to Love all of me…. Today, I apologize to you. I’m sorry for not maximizing our time. I’m sorry. When we transition into tomorrow, let’s both say the same thing when we simultaneously become yesterday; well done….Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

A Soliloquy From the Bottom of the Sea. (A Slave’s Cry)

I have no soul left to feed on. Each time I held my tongue in your presence, I had to take a small bite in order to survive. Feeding on my own soul in order to feed your ego came at too great a cost. Your self worth shouldn’t be greater than my self-respect. In your one-sided interpretation of freedom, the rules are designed in order to convince the confused that they aren’t. You know… You know… Each time you look in the mirror, you know. You cheat with the Sun in order to look like me, yet you call me ugly. You pretend to hate me. You know…. Actually, your perversions are the very reason you stole us anyway. On an equal scale, you would have never measured up. Like the common liar and thief, you are of the night. Me, I am of the Sun. The Sun is faithful to me, which is why I don’t look like you. I don’t hate you. I hate what you have done. Actually, I pity you. Am I angry? No, I’m not. Why? Each time I breathe, your insecurities keep you up at night. Nightly, each fearful pace that you take reminds you that the goods that you have stolen will one day return to their rightful place. We are Gods… We are God’s……Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to the leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Random.

You wanna know something interesting about me? I feel symphonies in my soul. Sometimes they are so gentle and sweet, they actually bring tears to my eyes. These symphonies are the score of my experiences on this side of the Sun. So much music… I dream in poetry. Not haiku, not the type of poetry they teach in school (that never made me feel anyway), no, the type of poetry that I dream is real. I dream of city blocks, candy trucks, fried fish sandwiches, smiling faces, and hard times. Each victory is cemented as an extraordinary stanza. Each loss singes those stanzas. Yet, I push through defiantly. I Love from a place other than here. I can’t Love from this place because I don’t consider what some do here Loving. No, it’s liking predicated on a set of requirements, expectations, deliverables, and lastly, comparisons. Liking based on an opportunity is not what I choose to do. Me, I Love as though my eyes are closed. I Love from the very place that I was denied by most as a child. Somehow, I was able to pick the lock on a Love so sweet, I find myself stealing a little only for me. I don’t apologize for that, yet, I consider it selfishly necessary. I worry about the state of the world. I think that we have become so self-absorbed that we are losing space and consideration for others. I hold my trauma in the same cup that I drink from most nights. It seems to weaken the demons. My smile in a place where others are clearly not is a disguise. However, they’ll never notice that because they don’t see me. They’re afraid to. I miss my Mother’s collard greens, sweet potato pie, and cheese cake so much that I can’t express it appropriately. I HATE motionless beds more than I hate beds with motion, yet, no emotion. My bed is motionless. Simply put, motion with no emotion doesn’t work for me. Well, I guess that’s it for now. Be well today………. Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Being.

Good Evening. It’s Saturday, so I’m going to jump right in. STOP TELLING BLACK MEN WHAT TO BE AND HOW TO FEEL! White Men do NOT have permission to be varied, while Black Men are all expected to be the same. No…. Just no. If you’re a Gay Black Man, you are still a Black Man. If you are a Straight Black Man, you are still a Black Man. If you are a Black Man who Loves to read more than you like to rap, you are still a Black Man. If you speak the king’s English better than you speak the neighborhood’s jargon, you are still a Black Man. If you chose to go to college, the military, trade school, or seek gainful employment rather than sell drugs or gang bang, you are still a Black Man. If you decided to sell drugs or gang bang because Life dealt you a difficult hand of cards that required an equally difficult response, you are still a Black Man. If you are rich, you are still a Black Man. If you are poor, you are still a Black Man. If you are depressed, suffering from anxiety, or any other form of mental health challenge, you are still a Black Man. Be you. Be proud. Be. If you are lost in the abyss of a difficult response, look to those that Love you rather than those who want to judge you for a way out. Truth be told, our scars never healed; they just scabbed over. As the stars are varied, so is our response to our trauma. America, there is no way to be Black and “free” and not suffer some form of mental health challenge. We are expected to walk in perfection while others are praised for their vulnerability. It is not our job to make you feel better about your insecurities by pretending that we share the same. No… Me, I’m insecure about the quality of education in communities made up of people who look like me. I’m insecure about the integrity of the people who claim to speak for the “American People.” I’m insecure each time that a police officer who suffers from an insecurity greater than my own decides to pull me over. 50/50 (Those are the odds that I give myself for survival of each interaction.) As I write this blog, I can feel my own power drip from the tips of my fingers. I am powerful. Yes, I am powerful. I am Power. I realize now that money, status, recognition, and “education” don’t beget power. No… My power flows from the freedom to speak my truth without fear of losing my socioeconomic status. Hell, I’m an educator. I don’t have a fortune to protect, yet my dreams are priceless. I now understand that having more money won’t make me free(er). In some cases, it makes you a better slave. My truths are not controlled, endorsed, or presented by those with more than me. No, they are mine. I’m free…. I am in a constant state of being…….Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. Also, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. As always, Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Black Man.

Black Man, you are so much more than the world shows you. You are not dangerous, yet, you are constantly in danger. You are not unloved, although love is seemingly a rarity. You are not aggressive, although there are times when you must stand your ground. You are not ugly, yet, you have witnessed some of the ugliest things imaginable. You are more than sports. Why? Life for you has never been a game, yet you play it masterfully. Black Man, you are not a boy. Honestly, you were never allowed to be. Black boys aren’t allowed to be children. Can I get an Emmitt Till, Trayvon Martin, and Tamir Rice? You have been treated as harshly, disrespectfully, neglectfully, and violently as any man who has ever graced this planet. You are more than music. Why? Your songs are sometimes an echo of your soul’s screams to, and about the Universe. You are more than theatre. Why? Ever since the first one of Us landed in this Country, we’ve been expected to know how to act. No. Black Man, you are more. Perhaps this is why the World seems to be comfortable with giving you less. If you were given more, your greatness would manifest as abundance, and the racist would be exposed as insufficient. Black Man, pick up your head. Trust me, I know you’re hurting. Lean into your faith. Lean into your hope. Lean into trusting the most important person in your existence; yourself. Lean into grace. Lean into acceptance. Black Man, you are Loved so much by the Universe that when you were conceived, it’s light kissed your skin. Like perfectly baked bread or the strongest of trees, you are a beautiful brown. You are feared because you are powerful. You are hated because the very existence of a racist is predicated on a fabricated lie that never manifested any fruit. You are powerful because the Universe built a home inside of you. You are beautiful, well…..Ain’t God good? Hold on Black Man. Hold on. Your Brother isn’t your enemy. His rage, your fear, and our distrust is nothing more than a response to poverty, mis-education, neglect, and a lack of being edified. Can you imagine what we could be if we extended our hands rather than turn our backs? Black Man, I am so proud of you. You have made miracles in the face of despair. You have made homes out of broken houses. Even when you sleep, you’re working. I realize that your anxiety never rests. Hold on Black Man. Don’t bleed on the people who didn’t cut you. Don’t hurt the people who are trying to Love you. Don’t run from the people who can help you heal. Don’t stand for the people who don’t acknowledge you as Hueman. Black Man, you are Magnificent. You are Loved……My affirmation…..Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Dear Hip Hop.

Dear Hip Hop,

Wow, it’s been a minute. How are you? Me, I’m fine. I’ve been chasing dreams, building more, and chasing those as well. I’m still not happy, but hey, as long as I’m dream chasing, I’m better than I once was right? What about you? What have you been up to? I know that we should have spoken before now, but I’ll lie and tell you that I was busy. Honestly, I cheated on you with Jazz and Country music. It’s okay to tell me the truth. You cheated on me with Capitalism and Hollywood. Neither of us are what we once were; pure. Once upon a time we Loved one another for free. We Loved us because no one else did. Even though we were once bought, we could never be sold. Once upon a time we lived in Love. I received a letter in your name today. I couldn’t believe it was sent to my house, but it was. It was a letter for you from Racist America. It also included a check with the p.s., “we all know how much you like to shine, so we thought we’d help you out.” I sent the letter back with the words, return to sender. I said this couldn’t be for Hip Hop. This letter must be for rap. Once upon a time, when people spoke from the hip, it meant unapologetic truth. This is why it was kept to the confines of the ghetto. There, everyone clearly understood what was happening even though those truths were never spoken. Hop meant that we danced in the storms of our existence with both beauty and defiance. Simply put, we danced to the rhythm of our truths. That was you Hip Hop. Rapper’s Delight was a ghetto fabulous illustration of our truth. Curtis Blow was one of your architects. The Message convicted American of it’s Capital Crime of overlooking the very people that built, edified, and enriched this Nation. Run DMC introduced us to what money could actually do while screaming “Hard Times.” LL Cool J gave us BARS! My boys, DAS-EFX gave us art in the name of different. NWA gave us unapologetic, unforgiving, and in your face truths about the perils of the very environment that the Iran Contras created. Liberty and Justice for all….Ok… My Family, my Cousin, Pac… We never met, but I clearly understand your pain. It’s something about that Garland blood. I get it Brother. You gave us vulnerability, strength, truth, beauty, power, and hope in the beginning. Biggie, you gave us finesse. Black and Ugly as ever. However,….. Man, I miss you Big. Dr. Dre and Snoop, Fam, you gave us some of the dopest tracks I have ever heard. To this day, they are some of the dopest tracks I have ever heard. Puff….. You are the embodiment of everything New York. You taught me to dream bigger. I am so proud of you. Rakim… BARS!!!!! Big Daddy Kane… BARS!!!!! Nas, you gave us art, truth, history, and Love. KRS-One, I could write an entire blog just about you. Thank you…. Jay-Z.. You are one of my heroes. Thank you for what you gave, what you give, and how you move. You are the personification of Langston Hughe’s “I, too, Am America.” Kanye… I love the embrace of your art, truth, and style. Shine Kanye!!! I Love You Brother. Hip Hop, we need you to stand up because rap is in bed with our oppressor. There’s a saying that we should speak our truths even if our voices tremble. You made the world dance to the sound of our truths, and as a result, life for us began to change. Rap, we didn’t create rap; racism did. Like they wrapped us in chains, chained us to boats, wrapped us in sheets as they threw the defiant overboard, and wrapped us in ignorance through no fault of our own, they now present rap music. No, we gave birth to Hip Hop. Rap is an artificial intelligence created in order to determine is affect on society. Hip Hop, look at it’s affect. We need you Hip Hop. I need you. I miss you. While you’re thinking of a master plan with nothing but sweat inside your hands, we need you remind the world to not push me because I’m close to the edge while trying not to lose my head. It is like a jungle. Hip Hop, our babies need you to stand up. Our future needs you. I need you. Stand up Hip Hop. Please…. Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything.

Relationships While Black.

I am guarded as hell. I am guarded because every time I put my guards down, I was reminded why I needed to keep them up. My brothers are guarded. My sisters are guarded. My cousins are guarded. My friends are guarded. My teachers were guarded. Their teachers were guarded. My friends are guarded. I have been guarded all of my life. You see, I was raised by a Mother that poured her hope into me. Yet, this same Woman also raised her daughters to never be like her. Never depend upon a Man. Have your own money. Never let anyone raise their voices at you. Never allow anyone to cheat on you, come back, and do it all over again. Never, and I mean, never, let a man raise his hands to you. This same Woman taught me to trust Love. Money doesn’t have any real value. A soft whisper has greater impact than a roar. True Love knows no boundaries. Lastly, warm and genuine hugs are far more impactful than anything that can be purchased at a local pharmacy. It’s true, Mothers raise their daughters and nurture their sons. To me, it appears that daughters are raised with the truth of their Fathers shortcomings, while sons are raised with the hope of becoming all of the things that their Fathers never were. In rapid succession, raised daughters and nurtured sons are meeting in bars, libraries, supermarkets, schools, and all other places of social engagement. I don’t have to go into the obvious, for the data is overwhelming. It’s not working. Black Woman, to me, you are the closest thing to God within the finite confines of this Universe. This is true. Like God, you are expected to not only forgive, but also bless, the very people that you have given your life to while it seems that they’ve only given you their asses to kiss in return. You are expected to show Love while feeling pain. You are expected to give hope when only feeling, and experiencing, despair. You are expected to always be together, ready, patient, kind, and strong. Strong…. As a Black Man, it seems that we want a Strong Black Woman until she reminds us that she’s actually stronger than we are. Those Nurtured Sons…. I am a nurtured Son. That doesn’t mean that I’m weak. I’m just nurtured. I sometimes resent the masculinity in you, as I am sure that you sometimes resent the feminine parts of me. In no uncertain terms does that mean that I’m not a Man. Nor, does it mean that you aren’t a Woman. It simply means that we MUST be accepting and understanding of our beautiful differences that have brought us to the same place; the possibility of TRUE LOVE. This isn’t a mistake. Personally, I believe that Men remain boys until a Woman acknowledges, accepts, and professes that he is, indeed, a Man. If Men don’t like what I just said, I, too, am a Man. We can discuss this. If Women that are raising their son’s are trying to interpret this, don’t do anything differently. Your Sun needs that Love. If Women that are raising daughters are trying to interpret this, please understand that, if our Lives are to continue, because you are a Woman, pour equal amounts of hope into both your daughters and suns. Black Woman, I am in awe of you. I was raised by you. I live for you. I desire you, and only you. You are the definitive example of my Life’s work and worth. Lower your guard and let me in, for I have made room for you….Patrick

Another again. This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no reason at all other than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything…..

Hashtag.

When I was a child, people seemingly spoke to one another. I remember a time when dinnertime was sacred. This was the time when everyone sat down and discussed the events of the day, the plans for tomorrow, and with some discomfort, the failures of yesterday. Today, it seems that we don’t talk anymore. Today, we seek hashtags that seemingly summarize all that we are, will be, and feel. Hashtags… I really don’t like hashtags, but in order to be heard, I’ll use some. #I’msorry. #Iwaswrong. #Youwerewrongtoo. #Youtalktoomuch. #Idon’ttalkenough. #Idon’twanttobecoached. #Manhoodshouldn’tbepredicatedonoutcome. #Manhoodshouldn’tbepredicatedonincome. #Onceuponatimewewerefriends. #I’drathermakelovethandiscusswhatlovingshouldbeorfeellike. #Noonehasfiguredloveoutsostoplisteningtofailuresinordertodiscoversuccess. #Iamnotyourfather. #Youarenotmyfather. #Imissyou. #Myegowillneverbeasstrongasmylove. #Silenceisabitch. #Silenceissometimestheonlyredemptionthatexists. #Loveisstrongerthanpride. #Imissyou…….After a modern day conversation like this, there is nothing else that needs to be said. However, because I’m a bit rebellious I’ll say these words. Defiantly, I tossed the last vestiges of hope I had remaining to the gods. I prayed that they’d be heard while accepting that they probably won’t. When I loved then, it was real. How can love be fake? Like can be fake, but how can Love? No, it wasn’t fake. It was real. Perhaps, we both expected it to be pain free. Alas, it’s not. Perhaps, that’s the beauty of it all. Nonetheless, I loved then. I love now…….Patrick

This week, please do something for someone other than yourself for no other reason than to make their lives better. As always, if you make it to where you’re going, please don’t forget to leave a map for the rest of us. Always Choose Love Because Love Changes Everything….