The Clear Blue I Saw
Present Thought, June 28, 2014
The universe begins and ends inside of you. When you are born the universe is only as big as the room in which your eyes are first open. As your years pass the universe can reach as infinite as your mind will allow, and that can be terrifying, for now, more than ever, you realize how finite you actually are. If you wish not to live anymore, you have the ability to destroy all that you have ever seen and all that you have ever come to know. You have the ability to make the infinite disappear, into nothing, not even thin air. For when your eyes are shut, the light to understanding the universe is as well. You have created yourself, just as the universe has created itself, and you have come to understand both, in the beauty and darkness revealed day and night. To be good, to do what is right, is to never destroy what you create. Alone or with God, in heaven or in your own home, you write the story of your existence. You walk in heaven, on earth, or in hell, in a manner and direction of your own choosing, if you are free enough to do so. If your candle fades, stay awake long enough and the wind will give it all the more reason to burn even stronger. Presence, only, is true if your light shines for you to see it. Behind closed curtains, inside your mind alone, or on a seat the size of the earth with your eyes wide open. Here, warmed by the sun, blanketed by the sky, watched by the moon and touched by the stars, you are alive and presently, you have so much potential to find peace. Even if we are only here a fraction of time, a piece on a never ending, never beginning clock, or go somewhere eternal after our cherry blossoms fade, we can live happy and strong now, in a heaven we call home today. Everyone’s mind has the potential to find his or her own version of peace, and it is my belief that this peace is our very life’s purpose. Happiness feels like heaven, and its memory is reason for hope when life makes it hard to breathe, and days seem impossible to face.
How did I not kill myself?
I reminded myself of the heaven I once found on earth, and the happiness I once shared with so many others throughout my incredible life. My universe does not begin nor end, does not have a creator or a destroyer, but it has love in a life, that has created itself. That more than anything, gives me a heartbeat. And when I am happy, even if no one is around to share it with, I never feel alone and I always feel at home.
I thank God for this, and feel him right beside me as the birds chirp all around before the sun warms my morning. Thank you mom for bringing me into this heaven. Thank you dad for teaching me how to be a man in this life and the importance of questioning the unknown and purpose of it all. Without my life, mom, I would never be able to love, and without you, dad, I would never understand the importance of loving the most important thing, life itself.
I love life, and I now cherish the tattoos my mom and dad wrote upon my wrists.
My mind has suffered. I have suffered. But through it all, now, I can look at my wrists, love my tattoos and thank God, and the universe that I have come to understand, for the parents that brought me into the room where it all first began. Even though my mother is gone, her writing of love will always be a part of me, and every time I look at that word I feel her alive, just as she was to me yesterday.
In the mornings, I now take a deep breath, and open my blinds so that I can be reminded of just how big a part of heaven I am so lucky to see everyday. I remind myself to love life and the air it allows me inhale and exhale as I look at the days I sometimes forget I can face in any manner I choose.
Hopefully I’ll stay stable enough, with a mind that is under control, so that my own voice doesn’t drown out the real sounds life has to offer. I think the way things are going I’ll be just fine.
As Chrisopher Wallace once said, “The sky’s the limit.” It’s funny, because a song titled “Beyond The Gray Sky” and a friend who played me that song, inspired this book.