A POEM EVERY WOMAN SHOULD READ

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Nearly 15 years ago, I came across an article in a Bangkok Post issue about a poem attributed to Veronica Shoffstall (it is believed that she merely did the translation of the poem written by an Argentine short story writer and poet Jorge Luis Borges).

The poem hit a nerve, and I asked my then significant other if he could listen as I read the poem. I could barely finish reading it when tears started flowing down my cheeks – it was beautiful and a huge chunk of the words where things I lived through.

It is cathartic to cry until you could cry no more and when I do need to shed, reflecting on what life has dealt on me, I read this poem. Not only does it talk about life, love and loss, it also inspires and empowers.

Read it and then try saying the words to yourself. It is too beautiful to pass up.

After a While

After a while you learn

the subtle difference between

holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning

and company doesn’t always mean security.

 

And you begin to learn

that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes ahead

with the grace of a woman

not the grief of a child

 

And you learn

to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is

too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way

of falling down in mid flight.

 

After a while you learn

that even sunshine burns if you get too much

so you plant your own garden

and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting

for someone to bring you flowers.

 

And you learn

that you really can endure

that you are really strong

and you really do have worth

and you learn and you learn

with every good bye you learn.

-Veronica Shoffstall/Jorge Luis Borges

 

 

 

NEVER QUIT

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If you live long enough, you’ll make mistakes. But if you learn from them, you’ll be a better person. It’s how you handle adversity, not how it affects you. The main thing is never quit, never quit, never quit.– Bill Clinton

A much coveted trophy was supposed have been presented to her at the Marquis Marriott Hotel in New York City last November 14. It was the first time a Filipina won in the Stevie Awards for Business under the category for businesses with ten or less employees, beating two Americans and a Canadian in the finals.

It would have been like winning in the lotto twice – going to New York, the city of her dreams, and personally receiving the gold trophy from the Stevies, considered the most prestigious award in the world of business.

The entrepreneur, instead of flying to New York, went to Cebu to receive another award from a medical society for her publication’s contribution to the coverage of mental health issues and stayed at a budget hotel in the industrial part of the city.

She requested a friend who is also a US correspondent for the company to accept the Stevie trophy on her behalf.  Her tiny business is revenue-challenged at the moment and flying to the Big Apple would have meant an expenditure equivalent to several months of operating expense.

And while friends offered their air miles and their NYC houses just for her to have this once in a lifetime experience, she politely declined. It wouldn’t look good to the company’s creditors and to her personal friends who are helping keep the company afloat until it becomes self-sufficient and she is able to pay them back.

That entrepreneur is me. The truth is, the birthing pain was not yet over after the launch of the magazine’s digital format along with its various social media platforms in 2013. I have been out of circulation in the pharma industry for almost four years, having focused on my retail business selling second-hand luxury handbags.

But even as Medical Observer was in its digital infancy, it was nonetheless receiving accolades left and right for the free health information it dispenses to a global audience on a daily basis – reaching a high of over three million views weekly. It was on the right track, but revenue-wise, it was struggling.

I had five full time employees and a pool of freelance writers from as far as Africa who were given projects as they come. Salaries and wages were first in the agenda when expenses were discussed. Employees came first before anything else – without them being paid on time, the morale might go down – a surefire formula for business failure.

What would they think if I had gone on with the trip and then find themselves waiting at the last minute to get their salaries? I wouldn’t have let that happen. I would’ve mortgaged my car first before they miss their pay envelops – at least, that is my thinking.

For months, an entrepreneur may or may not receive a salary – just one of numerous sacrifices if you are to enter the world of business. It is definitely not a walk in the park. I worked seven days a week and clock in 12 hours a day including work done at home. I blog for relaxation and run around the village for 30 minutes, mostly to contemplate on things both personal and business.

You must show to your employees that they come first before any extraneous whims, not even for that extraordinary opportunity one would figuratively kill for. Imagine, a global award giving body handing a gold trophy to me, a first for the country, in the city that never sleeps.

When the list of finalists was released by the Stevie Awards, I was over the moon. There were hundreds of nominees from 60 countries and I was selected by most of the 160 international judges. I had my visa sorted immediately not even knowing where the funds for the trip would come – but deep inside, I’ve come to realize that even if funds were raised, the company’s operating costs would still come first.

I think a part of me died when the trip didn’t happen. But when I go to the office and find my staff happy for me, driven and working hard – it assuages the feeling of regret at missing an opportunity that I know will never happen again – a gold Stevie, that is.

New York, I know will happen at the right time when the fruits of my labor are finally reaped. Such is the life of an entrepreneur and all I need is more fortitude to be able to sacrifice more – and then I will re-conquer the world the way I did in the 1990s.

Public Relations is now the world I circulate in having, reinvented myself from publisher to PR consultant.  I have moved on in so many respects.

As Bill Clinton would say, “never quit, never quit, never quit”.

 

 

RAISING OLIVER

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“Each day of our lives, we make deposits in the memory banks of our children”. – Charles R. Swindol. 

Psychologists claim that long lasting memories of children begin at 14 to 18 months. A happy, loving face can be imitated/remembered much earlier – making it important that your child is looked after with love and tenderness.

When Oliver was born, I saw a child whose life depended on me. The umbilical cord may have been cut but there and then I saw myself as secondary to the child I was holding. The first time I laid my eyes on my son, I knew my life would never be the same again – because there is another human being whose life will be shaped primarily by me and how I respond to things.

I laid down my own rules for parenting, my credo, so to speak and tried to lead by example to my little boy. Luckily for me, Oliver was never a problem child. Perhaps I am lucky but the imprints of nurture that I made, of which I am very proud of, manifest to how he lives today as I know it.

The prime virtue I taught him are compassion and giving back to the community when he can.

Not all parents will show their children the ugly facts of society. I did exactly the opposite. As a child in his safety child seat behind me, he would see children selling flowers, faces with the weight of poverty, hunger in them.

I would talk to him while driving, asking if he is alright as I know he is watching them. He would asked why I wouldn’t buy any if only to help – and I would explain that if I did, the children will be given more flowers to sell instead of going home. It is compassion by not giving – and at an early age, he realized how the cycle works.

One time when he was in his late teens, he spent some time in Thailand with his Dad and over Skype, he related how angry he was with the people who watched and gave money to a man who was making her contortionist daughter perform late into the night in the busy streets in Chiang Mai. He said he didn’t stop to ogle and applaud, but observed how even adults could not understand the cycle that the more they give, the worse it is for the little girl.

And there I knew the imprint I left on Oliver on how compassion is not necessarily giving – it could mean the total opposite. It is breaking a cycle of abuse of children who are made to work by their parents, to beg, to perform when they should be in bed nurturing their bodies with rest and sleep.

The other face of compassion and social responsibility he learned was when I took him to Smoky Mountain when he was 14. This is hell on earth, a dumpsite in Manila where children are expected to pick up cans, plastic bags and anything that can be resold to junk yard owners. It is believed that five thousand families are supposed to live here.

It was a prelude to the Mosman Cup 2007 and I invited Oliver and some of his friends (with the permission of their parents) to visit the dumpsite to donate old football boots, shirts and school supplies to the children of the Philippine Christian Foundation.

What he saw, smelled, experienced in the grey, impoverished hell of Manila is still vivid up to this day. He was sick as a dog the following day – but saw the realization that not all live like he and his friend do.

By spending time with the children under the wings of the PCF kicking ball and teaching them tricks on how to entertain themselves, he learned social responsibility.

Not long afterwards, he was tasked to organize a football tournament at the British School Manila for the benefit of the disenfranchised football teams in Manila. I observed him do the works, and my heart skipped when I saw him bringing food, taking charge of the event and being called “Kuya Oliver” by the kids from Smoky Mountain and The Achievers, the players from the squatter area in Manila.

I want my son to continue knowing and practicing compassion for others – but it is not me who can attest to that – only the people around him can.

LOSING AN EX THREE TIMES OVER: DIVORCE, DEMENTIA AND DEATH

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“Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.” Anne Roiphe

 

It was declared void ab initio. Our marriage was void from the beginning.  It started with a piece of paper signed by a marriage celebrant in the sunny Mosman house along Dalton Road in December 1989, and ended with another piece of paper signed by a Judge from a Makati Courthouse in February 1998.

We were the best of mates at the outset – blessed with a beautiful child four years after we got married and a business that was taking the industry by storm. But unlike fairy tales that have happy endings, our marriage suffered major setbacks from which recovery was not an option – so we separated and went our own ways after discussing the best that we could arrange for our son.

That was the first time I lost Tim, my ex-husband, the father of my only child.

Hard as it was to imagine the effects on me were, it was harder to comprehend what it was like for a four-year-old to see his parents separate. Such is always the case, the children almost always suffer when marriages break down. He left the country to live in Thailand and Sydney and Oliver (my son) and I stayed in Manila, our home.

In 2012, Oliver moved to Australia to study with the prospect of getting to know his Dad better. Unfortunately, things got in the way for him to get to know the father who had been physically absent from his life. Oliver noticed behavioral and personality changes about his Dad that were difficult to explain then. He let his Dad be – thinking that he needed time to fully absorb the presence of his son in Sydney.

It was a couple of years later when Tim was diagnosed with early-onset fronto temporal dementia – a cruel disease that damages the brain “causing the typical symptoms of changes in personality and behavior, and difficulties with language.”

At first, Oliver noticed slow signs of the disease that crept on his Dad. Tim was saying fewer words when talked to, he no longer showed any interest in the sports that he used to love; and he could barely remember his friends and family members’ names, while his sense of balance was affected.

And it got worse, exponentially as the days passed into years, until Tim required nursing services because he could no longer perform basic tasks such as operating the cooking appliances. He was said to struggle more with language, finding it harder to communicate what he wanted and needed.  And he was only in his late 50s, living alone with dementia.

For years I haven’t had any communication with Tim, so Oliver and I decided that perhaps it was time for me to see him before the disease completely takes over. I booked a flight to Australia last week of November and told Oliver that I would like to see Tim on the 1st of December. The day of reckoning came and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

I stared at the man I married 27 years ago who was looking at me with quizzical eyes and a puzzled look on his face. He appeared perplexed, eyes now devoid of any recognition of Oliver or myself.

There I was, face to face with Tim, now reduced to a shell of the man who mentored me about life and love nearly three decades ago. Here was the man who launched Medical Observer by transcribing and writing scientific lectures into readable prose but could now barely utter more than seven words.  It was heart-wrenching to see the father of my son now dependent on other people for something as basic as putting one’s clothes on.

This is early-onset dementia – wreaking havoc on the life of my ex. Not the easiest scenario to witness without one breaking down. And I did.  I lost him when we separated back in 1998, and I felt that I lost him, for the second time, to a cruel disease.

What an overwhelming grief it was to see only the shadow of my ex’s former self materialize before me. No amount of words could diminish the loss of a loved one to dementia – it is tragic to see someone alive yet so devoid of life.

When Oliver and I left Tim in his Manly apartment that 1st day of December, my son suggested to my sister-in-law that perhaps, it would be best for Tim to go back to Manila where he could have 24/7 care vis-à-vis the one-hour-a-day nursing care in Australia. The idea was to rent a house in the same compound where I live and get Oliver’s former nanny to look after him together with full time nurses. I would have to supervise all of these arrangements which I embraced wholeheartedly.

The plan was set into motion the moment I returned to the Philippines.

Twelve days later, Oliver called me up, inconsolable, to say that I can stop making arrangements for Tim’s transfer because Tim died that day. As with some dementia patients, Tim over estimated his swallowing capability and choked on the meal that he was eating. He was with the nurse who performed first-aid on him without success.

He was only 59. And I lost him for the third and last time.

The years of separation do not diminish the grief that one endures when losing an ex. You grieve for the passing of a friend, the father of your child, the partner you once had, and the love that you once shared. Divorce, annulment – or whatever it is called – has no meaning in death. Loss is loss – irretrievable and final. He was once a part of my life, and he always will be, because of my son.

Life is too short to nurture hidden hurts. I am just grateful that I was able to see and speak to him just days before he passed away. Somehow, a sense of relief washes away some of the grief.

So how did I deal with the sadness of losing an ex-spouse?

1.     I shared it with my son – I talked about Tim with Oliver lengthily and how we can move on with our lives. This was especially helpful as my son knew the reason for the annulment. Grieving together with someone who feels the same sense of loss is cathartic.

2.     I jotted down how I felt – You write it down. Either one word or a thousand words don’t matter. But releasing it by conveying your innermost emotions on a piece of paper helps unload the varied emotions that your friends might not comprehend.

3.     My son made sure his support system surrounded me – Oliver asked his friends to take me out to lunch and coffee days after he told me that Tim died. Not everyone will have this privilege, but you can call on some friends who would understand.

4.     I cried – I just let the tears flow and felt the cleansing power of crying. This will have a cathartic effect on anyone and it sure brought relief to me when I remembered all the things I shared with Tim.

 

I would be interested to know about your experience in the comments section below.

LOVING & LEAVING A DISLOYAL MAN

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Having that background where loyalty, above all else, reigned supreme, how on earth did I end up with the most traitorous, backstabbing and deceitful man as a partner for 17 years? – Spear

 

During the days of  Kabataang Makabayan (an underground left-wing youth organization) in the early 1980s, when your very membership to such organizations could mean imprisonment or salvaging,  it was crucial to recruit people based on their loyalty to the cause and devotion to the movement. I remember being background-checked and tested when I submitted myself for membership at one of those groups. I passed it with flying colors, and went on to organize a legal front organization in the College of the Holy Spirit, after which it became my turn to do background checking on who should be enlisted to join the UG (underground) movement.

Unbeknownst to some of my schoolmates, I was actually examining them like scientific specimens while socializing with them. What are their parents’ jobs, where do they live and what do they think about poverty and the government, what are they loyal to? Those who had singular devotion to a school activity or student campaign were easy to spot but not necessarily easy to recruit. Those who were fence sitters with ambivalent feelings towards change being bandied about by the groups that I belonged to, I did not even consider enlisting.

Loyalty was top of mind. Will this person have my back if I get into trouble with the military? Will she disclose the hide-outs of our political officers if she gets abducted? Our lives and safety were hinged on secrecy and the loyalty of fellow members – this was not a drill – it was real, scary times that we lived in then.

Having that background where loyalty, above all else reigned supreme, how on earth did I end up with the most traitorous, backstabbing and deceitful man as a partner for 17 years?

You see, two years after my marriage collapsed in 1998, I had a love affair with somebody whom we shall call Luke.

We were madly in love with each other and we got on well like a house on fire. We both had the same sense of humor and we could talk all night about shallow and profound issues like there was no tomorrow. He introduced me to the sublime melody and words of Leonard Cohen and the universality of Pink Floyd songs.

When we snuggle, it was like coming home – it’s as if stars aligned for our two bodies to entwine. Physiologically and in all other aspects except in the matter of faith, we were meant for each other (or so I thought). At last, I have found my man, my match, my partner and my kindred spirit. We were happy.

We decided to live together in 2004 and mutually invested in a big house in Merville, Paranaque.

Apart from a few bumps which I ignored, we lived like normal couples do. There were telltale signs of disloyalty but they were too trivial compared to the partnership which I valued.

In 2013, we were elected as directors for a club in Paranaque.  I became, in the annals of the club’s history, the first female president in its 100 years of existence. Unfortunately, the club was being hit left and right with legal problems and was fighting for its very existence.

One day, the club’s admin staff called my attention to the unusual purchases the club had been making from the company of a female member of the board of directors. The purchases for LED lights were not only mounting, but apparently, competitive quotations were not sought prior to the procurements as there was a directive from another director not to seek any.

Janice, the assistant, further mentioned that the prices of the products were twice those of other suppliers. It was an apples to apples comparison and there was no doubt that the club was being ripped off hook, line and sinker.

Over all, the club accumulated over PHP 500,000 worth of lighting system from the director’s company at a time when every peso was a prisoner. We were fighting a legal war that was costing the club millions in legal fees, the transition from its current lights to LED was not a priority.

I wrote to the five-member board asking them to check the irregular procurement. The board consisted of my partner, myself, the director who sold the lights (let’s call her Siony) and two others.

Siony sought to confuse the board with technicalities about LED lightings and even offered to investigate the other supplier’s quotations. Even as the “suggestion” was laughable, I merely told the board that she should inhibit herself from the issue due to an obvious conflict of interest.

Luke and I discussed this at home and to my surprise, he found nothing irregular in the transactions – even defending the indefensible, an act I found a tad twisted since Siony herself admitted that her price was double and her warranty was for one year only vis-à-vis three years by the other supplier.

All the while, everything that I discussed with Luke at home was being shared with Siony. He was also defending her in the email exchanges with the Board of Directors much to the surprise of everyone– emboldening her to go on attack mode outside the issue at hand.

This became a sore topic at home. It was very clear that he was on Siony’s side, and every night for two months, I was subjected to intense verbal abuse from Luke – he defending the morally-corrupting Siony at the same time putting me down.

Finally, in the heat of one of our arguments, he admitted that he was a financial partner of the lighting company that Siony works for. He also admitted writing the responses of Siony to my emails to the board – as her English vocabulary was limited. Can you imagine my horror upon realizing these things?

Not only was this highly irregular for two directors with interests in the company to supply the club with products without competitive quotes, this was a very disloyal act done in a very public manner.

Bizarre as it seemed, Luke appeared to be oblivious to the pain he was causing me at home and to the embarrassment he was causing himself in the club. Not only did he become the stranger on the other side of the bed, but I was also sleeping with the enemy.

I eventually decided to resign from the directorship only after I got the board to stop buying from Siony’s company.

As for the relationship, Luke killed it. It was never the same again after this incident and the events that followed are better left off unsaid as the cruelty of Luke was unimaginable.

A partnership, even without vows, involves some form of loyalty from both parties. When you enter a relationship, it goes without saying that you commit to support each other especially in the most trying times. And that specially holds true when the relationship is rendered tenuous because of certain issues that might come between the couple.

Loyalty is one of the hallmarks of a decent human being and remains to be the most endearing and attractive traits of a man. Unfortunately, I got involved with someone who has no idea of what loyalty means.

I eventually left Luke after three years of hell. I left a lying, abusive, cheating and manipulative man who was intimate with somebody else by telling her everything that happens in our relationship. As they say, intimacy is not just touching someone, it is who you text everyday and who you call/see every chance you get. Luke was such with Siony, not just for business matters but for what goes on in with her life, not to mention that things that Luke tells her about our relationship as well.

I should have known better when I saw telling signs of the kind of person he was, disloyalty being one of them. A partner does not rejoice over your down turns – but Luke did.  It is quite hard to comprehend how unmanly, vicious and savage he had become just as he got older. He has no comprehension of what loyalty means but he mastered the art of inflicting optimum emotional and psychological damage on me.

Recently, he sent me an email as if saying that he had an epiphany – that I am his kindred spirit and that we should try again as couple and travel the world so I could see places I have never been to.

I have adapted a no-contact policy with the disloyal man and have moved on.

What would you have done?

 

 

SIX GEMS FROM MY MILLENIAL SON

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He was four when his father and I separated which was not an easy situation for a child his age. Oliver and I left our the family abode in San Lorenzo, Makati for a humble house in Las Pinas in 1998 amid an acrimonious separation. Unlike most children, no questions were asked and he embraced the changes with calmness and aplomb.

Adjustments made by my son were substantial – no more regular family dinners; “daddy time” became a weekend exercise; gone was the big house with maids and yaya and most damning of all was seeing both his father and mother suffer from depression. Mine was triggered by the separation, his dad’s was due to the personal demons he had been battling with for a long time.

Despite the tough situation, Oliver didn’t lose his cheerful and lively character.

Throughout the whole ordeal of adjusting to the new scheme of things, he showed maturity beyond his years.

This quality would become his trademark amongst his peers as he grew older. His gift of listening is remarkable, his sense of fairness strong and his ability to empathize is quite extraordinary.

It is no wonder then that he became my best friend, my all-around go-to-guy as I traversed life’s journey. He saw me spiral into depression in 1998 and witnessed how I defeated the illness; he became my biggest fan and inspiration in the businesses I managed; cheered me on in my socio-civic duties and became my sounding board again when I got into a wrong relationship that lasted 17 years – causing depression to rear its ugly head again.

It was a psychologically and emotionally abusive relationship from a narcissistic partner, the horrific effects of which was witnessed by Oliver on several occasions. I left three times and returned three times – a very common cycle among emotionally battered women – until I finally detached myself from the abuse in 2016.

Life is about choices, never about chances. I am here for reason and I am making the most out of my time. And the reason I am here has a cosmic origin: I am loved. Everyone is. And I am loved despite being made to think that I wasn’t with the god-awful treatment that I got. I am loved in no uncertain terms by my son.

Oliver is now 25, independent and living in Sydney, Australia but we still talk on a regular basis. He is not just my son, he is also my confidante – having known all my struggles past and present. He is my counselor to this day.

Some of the gems he has shared with me are as follows:

1. Travel and see the world.  From the remote islands of the Philippines to Eastern Europe, Oliver has seen and experienced the various cultures and sights the world has to offer. He does so on budget when it comes to accommodation and plane fares – but does not scrimp on food and drinks. It is the experience of meeting new people and knowing the history of each country that he wants me to encounter before I get too old to travel.

And I have listened and taken his advice. Last week, I was in Poland and saw for myself the remains of the horrors of World War II but also saw the beauty of Krakow, a charming city several hours from Warsaw.

I wish to see more of the world just the way Oliver wants me to.

And so with my son in my heart and my bag on my back, I am ready to take on a big beautiful and still unexplored world to see and seize.

Off to the next sortie I go.

My invitation to you:  Pack you own stuff and get prepped for the joyride of life.

Never mind the bumps along the road, the air pockets while in flight and the head winds and big waves.

They are all part of the tour package of life.

2. Get decent hours’ rest because that will have rippling effects on your mental health and lifestyle. On many occasions, Oliver would monitor the time of my Facebook uploads. When he sees that I am still posting in the wee hours of the morning, he would immediately send a message asking why I am still up. We always trivialize the importance of getting sufficient and quality sleep – Oliver knows this all too well and my tendency to work late hours.

3. Focus on yourself. It is time to be selfish. It was in a Messenger note that he left this advice. In effect, he is saying that I should not worry about him and instead put more emphasis on myself as I navigate this life. There are no more business issues to worry about having left the publishing job I had with Medical Observer; no more pain to deal with having abandoned the abusive long term relationship I had; my parents are gone and I am living alone. Things were put into perspective with this advice – indeed, I should really have nothing else to worry about but me and the future that lies ahead.

4. Over thinking the past and reliving it will get you nowhere. Oliver is my anchor who has continuously offered emotional support during my darkest hours. When I was recovering from narcissistic abuse, he never failed to advise me to move forward and put the pain behind. Says Oliver. “You need to keep remembering that it is the past and you have to put that chapter of your life aside now and not let the past anchor you down. You’re bigger and better than that.”

Thankfully for me, my downhill ride is over, and I am on my way back to an exhilarating ascent.

5. I am always here. Big words from a son who has been through a lot himself, having lost his dad thrice in his life – first during the separation back in 1998, then losing his dad to dementia in 2013 and then losing him finally when his dad died in 2016. Oliver assures me that he will always be there for me and he has proven that during what I thought was the apocalypse of my life. He was always on the phone checking how I was doing, sending videos of himself to cheer me up and giving assurances that I didn’t deserve the abuse that was inflicted on me.

6. Never go back to Uncle Matt – One final wisdom he told me was to never go back to my last long term relationship that even  he himself saw as emotionally and psychologically abusive. In hindsight, he said that I should not have returned when I first left in 2009. While he has maintained a good relationship with my ex, he believes that the man was toxic for my life and leaving him for good back in 2016 was a smart move. I am moving on happily with my life and has shunned any form communication with my ex who has brought me nothing but pain and humiliation.

Life is a dilemma. Oh yes it is.

It can be its own reward or punishment. If it is the former, get full remuneration; if it is the latter try to bear the retribution.

But life only becomes so if you allow it to be.

For life is not like that at all and should never be so.

It is the greatest gift from whose enormous package spring all other gifts.

Yes, it is a journey which you can turn into a joyride when you are lifted and held aloft or a landslide when you are taken for a ride.

Indeed, of all life’s investments, love offers the greatest return.

And that love is expressed in how you celebrate life.

So choose life, live it abundantly and be thankful.

Remember that not everyone is given much time to experience it to the fullest.

With each new day that I awake, a ritualistic call to life beckons me to begin anew—a warm ray of sunlight, chirping birds, the faint scent of grass and leaves freshly cut by neighbors.

All these, and your day is just getting started. Your mood shifts to high gear.

The coffee percolating in the machine is turbo-charging your drive to take on the challenge of a brand-new day.

You feel you are already on top of the world and yet the day has hardly begun for others.

Life is astonishing. And being sentenced to life in this world is a blessed bliss.

And since life has no rewind button, you move on, forward, up, and out into the world.

But life is not a 100-meter dash; it is a marathon with no relay.

And so, while no one is looking, you can always stop, sit on a rock, feel the lightness within and around you, and realize a world of worries, pain, sorrow, and suffering had been offloaded from your back.

That’s right. Lay all of them down and leave them behind.

From now on travel light for life’s-journey. Just carry a back pack of essentials and hit the road, ride the wave, take to the skies.

The world is yours. Don’t just see it, grab and embrace it.

And here’s a parting shot from Sir Elton: “how wonderful life is while you’re in the world.”

Life.  Love. Time. The world.

You got ‘em all.

Never stop being astonished and thankful.