GATE

Crossing Bridges

Before the journey ahead,  you look at your destination. All around you find yourself wondering is it worth the adventure. 

View

Looking overhead at the cars speeding to and from you. Cyclist goes by in the narrow road you take. Looking high above at the suspension wires wondering will it hold. You look to the side and see vast oceans to the left and right. You see surfers in the distant, cars parked to the side. If you look closely, you see tiny fishermen on the pier.

Accidents Waiting To Happen

Still you journey ahead, as riders whisk by. You hope that they don’t strike when you're not looking. A mid-bridge collision could happen and the fall is a doozy. Saw two almost-hits just on a short five minute walk. Strong gust could find them crashing to the left oceans below or to right to speeding cars. 

You notice the 45 mph speed limit sign ahead. You notice the yellow telephone with a sign above it, “There is Hope. Your Fall would be Fatal and Tragic.” For Jumpers, one guesses. Fatal and tragic, whoah. Depressing, Fatal that is given. Tragic, no happy memory. No glory, no meaning, just infamy and sadness. 

Ah, there is Alcatraz Island. Its difficult to see. Fog. People say one should go. However, a prison, a place where liberty is removed. Freedom is lost. A place of fights and hardest criminals. Doesn't seem to be a place that one would  want to spend time at. That idea doesn't sit well.

Blisters

Midway you feel the blisters forming at your feet. You hope that this is not an early sign of diabetic necropsy. You are reminded of the simple mistake of not taking your shoes off at the beach. Forced to wear dress shoes on your four mile journey. Oh well, it is what is. Next time you remind yourself, take your shoes off at the beach. C’est la vie. We all make mistakes.

You see walkers ahead of you, making this bridge trek. You see soccer moms and elderly matriarchs, hands pumping in hopes to make their figure youthful. Cyclist race by in spandex and helmet on head. Colorful jersey with names like Trek and US Postal speed on by. One hears the deep, heavy breathing as they pass on by. Faces sweating. Chests heaves up and down. Legs churn, propelling riders ahead.

Look to the side and see the wake of ship passing by. The ripples of water indicates someone has passed. There at the distance. A building perched on the rocks looking over the Pacific. One wonders, “Why there?” Suspect it was made to house the builders of the bridge. Must have read a snippet from the San Francisco Eyewitness tourist guidebook.

Vision Tunneled. Vision Blurred

Take photos of all around. Three hundred sixty degrees. Your insides just seem to want focus on the task at hand, not wanting to look around. Perhaps its vertigo. Head straight focusing on your destination. Check one's heart rate wondering if the pace of one's walk or one's fear of falling is causing it to race.  One looks ahead, almost there. Almost home.

Wrong Turn

Think back at the wrong turn made earlier. This is the way, one said. The structure from the gated fence. Marvel at the symmetry of the metal suspension below. The cars overhead causes the structure below to bounce like shock absorbers. Metal gates, barb wire, and video cameras—stay out and the bridge says, "I am watching you." 

Looking Back

Think back. The sailor statue looks over the bridge. Hands in pocket and tote bag to the side. Plaques of Merchant Marines, Navy, Coast Guard, and Marines encircle the distant-looking traveler. His stance connotes determination and resolve. 

The bag says this journey will take some time. There are only essentials in the bag. Stuff that one needs to carry. Not the many bags that one’s carries on a long trip. It is one sole bag, not light, but not heavy. One gets that feel that is not weighing him down. The sense of quiet determination speaks. 

Holding On to What's Important

At times, one wonders if this is the stance one needs to take in the journey ahead. Keeping the essentials at hand.  Not bogged down with emotional baggage. Just holding on to the stuff truly needed. No more worries of the past. Just shoes, pants, and a toothbrush. A good book. Perhaps a good memory here and there. Not looking back. Just look ahead. 

Quiet determined silence at the adventure ahead. May look daunting. May look distant. May feel bigger than what it is. No "May's" about it. It is big. It is distant. It is daunting. That's the fun part.

Senses On

Can still feel the blisters at one's feet. That irritating rubbing of skin and socks. Raises a lump filled with fluid. One looks to the left, then right. Remembering the statue at one's back. Cars, bicyclist, runners, walkers, surfers, oceans, signs, suspensions lines, and sea. Feel the cool ocean breeze on your face. One's heart races and one's hearing tunes in. Still one taste that energy bar earlier had for this journey. One looks back at the statue. One looks at the distance traveled. One looks at destination a few steps ahead. One smiles unintentionally as that sense of completion warms.

What's Next?

Taa Daa, Done. Finished. Excelsior. There one stands for a moment. Catching a breath. Looking around. Take a photo of the Golden Gate. Marvel at the surfers, they are close now. Underneath one's feet. A few hundred feet below. Got that vertigo again. One's mini three minute staycation complete. One sees the journey ahead. Can’t see the statue now. Too far. Its there. Can’t see it from where one's at, but it is there. Journey was tiresome. It was thrilling. It had moments of anxiety and despair. It had a wonderful view. Humor, too. Looked overhead. Looked from below. Saw the many dangers. Thought to oneself, "Let’s do it again."

Here I Go.

Balloon Therapy

D. Valdez--"It is ALWAYS GRANTED when asked for....

Couple days ago asked for Forgiveness. On Facebook. Couple of nights ago, got in a car accident.

Driving on Palmdale Boulevard at a quarter past eight at night. Just past the rotary and out of nowhere. . .it looked like a white boxer. Brown, too. It was to my right. It was dark. Driving 50. It happened in a split second.

Moving On Means Going Back, Too
All of sudden, Blam!!! Continued driving. Had this sinking feeling. Unfortunately, I’ve hit dogs before late at night, but this was different. Drove on. Got home, but couldn't stop. Decided to go back. Flipped a U-ie. Called the 911 to inform police to where the incident happened. Felt horrible. Why? Because I just kept going.

It was only 3 minutes there and back--I remember--since the accident happened. But needed to know that dog was not suffering. Emergency lights on, drove up and down the street twice looking for the dog. No blood. No dog. No nothing. When the officer arrived, we searched but could not find a thing. Nothing. 

Stopped under a light and got to see the dent to the right front bumper. It was good foot in length. Time for a new bumper. What troubled me the most is not the accident. Nor the deductible. It was not finding the dog. Just bothered me so. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t get mind off it. Remembering the crunch. Feeling of the steering wheel trying to correct the car after the swerve. Just wanted to ease my mind knowing that dog didn’t suffer much.

Salvation Is Not Always In Church
Logically knew there was not much more that could be done. Mind was straight, just my heart felt heavy. It was an accident, no one’s fault, but it weighed on me. Woke up the next morning, foregoing my walk and run. Just left the house. Found myself at St. Mary’s and just prayed. It was 6:40 am. Ten minutes in the morning mass.  I prayed, took communion, and then left still feeling uneasy.

Message From the Heaven
On the way to LCH, noticed from a distance a dot in the sky. Couldn't quite tell. what it was. Driving closer and closer to Lancaster, past Avenue N, past Avenue K, the dot got bigger and bigger. Got to the hospital. Sitting in the parking lot, pulled the Pentax out and started looking for that dot in the sky. Couldn't quite tell still. Its a Monday. No hot air balloons on a weekday. People are working. 

Using the zoom, I realized the dot in the sky was a hot air balloon. An uncommon sight. Usually it’s a Saturday or Sunday when balloons dot the sky. Today, there it was. Most people would be out working, but this day was different. Started noticing my heart feeling lighter. Guess, my prayers were heard. Right then, realized and accepted damage was done and needed to move on.

Junipero Serra's Missions: Looking Up, Moving On
Something about looking up in the sky, and watching hot air balloons. My mind understood, but my heart still felt heavy for the loss. My heart needed to let go. It needed to lighten. It hurt and it bothered me. But seeing the dot in the sky helped me moved on. Can’t erase this memory, but one can reconcile on the mistakes made. 

Took pictures of a hot air balloon that was down a day earlier. Saw its descent and its landing on a field. Saw the retrieval truck pick up the passengers on their landing. Saw how the retrieval team follow the balloon on the roads. It was dangerous because the balloon was on Avenue M, near the airport. Right in front where planes land. Saw how quickly they were able to pick up these people up in the heavens and take them home.Maybe this is how Angels work.

Hindu Temple, Karma
I hope that the Dog found peace. I hope that Dog had lived a good life. I hope that Angels were able to pick up this Dog and take it to Heaven, to take the dog Home. I hope the Dog will forgive me.

After some time, it made me realize that we make mistakes. Sometimes people cause accidents. Sometimes people are the victims of accidents. Asking for and giving Forgiveness is hard at times. Whether you go to Church or Temple, there is something transformative in the act of Forgiving. Learned that lesson well. 

Angels Everywhere
Been burdened with heavy heart for a time. Now, done my crying. Done my hurting. Working on being Done with the heavy heart. "No more" is the plan. Got to pick up and let my soul take flight. Brian, Em, Robin, and so on—I Love You dearly. Got to go. Got to go with God. You are always with me. I believe the Big Smile will bring us back together.

Someday. 

Maybe next time we can do it better.

Epigram

Criticism: Some people love you, some people don’t. 

Fire Me Up, Don't Burn Me Down

It’s easy to tear something down. To take down brick by brick the works of others. Sometimes this is needed. That is all some can do. Tear things down. No skills to build, just to demolish. Perhaps, criticism is well-founded. Perhaps, the ones that criticize have been there and done that. 

Talk So Much, But Not Saying A Thing
More often than not, the ones that are harshest and have the most sting are the ones that have been hurt the most. A defense tactic learned early to protect this hurt child. Criticizers and talking heads attack because an over-abundance of anger and hate.  Negative critics remind me of CNN or Fox "so-called-experts." Wrong with this. Wrong with that. Blah, blah, blah. Nothing of substance these bobble head speak. Their tirades are. . .uninspired.

Void Needs Filling. Don't Be A Soul Assassin

They grab and attack others energies to boost their own waning supplies. Can’t create this positive energy themselves, so they prey on others. Looking for a weakness. Looking for an opening. Looking for something that is missing. They find it. They always find something missing. Trouble is they can't fill themselves. There is a hole in their heart. There is a hole in their soul. They are spilling bile because inside gangrene festers.Before criticizing ask this, What will you leave in the world?

To the critics, I am reminded by Orlando Bloom, Kingdom of Heaven, quote “What is a Man Who Does Not Make the World Better Place.”

Value In Everything

When the words of angry detractors pollute my prana. I try to find the message. At times, there is difficulty. Difficulty in decoding the message. There is anger and hurt. Difficulty in the message because the messenger may not have command of the words to communicate their meaning. Difficulty in the message because we have personal blocks that don’t allow us to hear the true meaning. There is a message. May take some time, to uncover the noise. But the feedback is valued. Learned a new word, Epigram. Thank you. Your other stuff, still working on it. Will give the attention its due

Let Them Cry

If a person is taking the time to retort, give feedback, criticize, than that is okay. He cared enough to write. He cared enough to read more. He cared enough to share. Sometimes the display of affection is misguided and looks like graffiti.

Guess, I would be more upset if one didn't care. From the feedback read, one must care a lot. Touching an exposed nerve can be uncomfortable. Guess, one has to take a punch at times. At this time I say, "Ouch." Just don't see the world in those angry eyes. Just garbage.

Negative criticism--I liken it to a baby crying. He cries because he needs attention. He cries because he hungers for something missing. He cries because he is having a tizzy fit. To this, let them cry. In time, his sobs will abate. He will discover other ways to communicate. Negative criticizers will grow up. It's still taking me time for me to grow up, too.

Analogy Rant: ON

So when the noise gets too loud, turn down the volume. If the ugly words graffiti-ize your space, then paint over it. Raise the rent because the space in your head is too valuable. Talking heads are bargaining for a discount because they can’t pay. The bee stings cause anaphylactic shock, then take the epi and move on. One will be short of breath. One's throat will be constricted. However, take meds. One's respiratory rate will return. One's heart will go back to normal. Understand it and move. If one doesn’t understand, get some space. Get some distance. Move on. Look at the bigger picture. This bombardment of pathogens is constant. An immunity will be built. Angry words will bounce off thickened skin. The WBCs will phagocitize this alien body. The kidneys and bowels will just excrete this out. 

Let Go. Go with God

Much props to the ones that have gone before us. We should memorialize those that have made us stronger and better. To the talking heads and angry criticizers, I forgive because at times it make us stronger and better. I understand that is all one can do is tear down. Sorry. Everyone needs to be loved. Just some are harder to love than others.

SOLVITUR AMBULANDOS

Saint Augustine--Solvitur Ambulandos. . .It is Solved By Walking

Sitting in the Domenic Massari Park. In my car, typing away, watching the people pass by. Morning sun is rising to my left. Cars behind me are taking their children to school right now. Pete Knight High. Quail Valley. Parks and Rec employees are busy performing their morning miracles. Two soccer fields in front. Tennis courts, basketball courts, and jungle gyms in the distance. Sun is warming my face and I feeling alive. Awakening as such. A new dawn. A new day.

Enlisted, I Be. . .

Morning walkers. I’ve joined their ranks. My anterior tibialis are just bulging. Still slow, though. The others I walk with are always half a house in front of me. Right now, I’m just happy to be in the running for the moment. It didn’t used to be this way. I used to be the one ahead by a distance. Now, I can barely keep up. Don’t want to say its because its my ejection fraction and lowered heart condition. Don’t want to say it because it would be an excuse for not trying. It would be an excuse for failing. Don’t want that. Don’t need that. Removing all doubts is not easy.

Gone, No Longer

I’m working on it. Haven’t blogged or went to the gym for the last week. Wanted to clear my mind and accept certain things in my life. Certain things that pains me to accept. There is always some rebelliousness inside of me. Always something to challenge the conventional wisdom. It’s just who I am. Always had it. Always cherished the “F You” attitude about what I could and could not do. I am the captain of my own ship. I am the decider of what I can and cannot do. Tell me, “No” I will want it more. Tell me, “It’s impossible.” I say “Been there, Done that.”

I am sure that I am not only one that feels and thinks this way.

Hope Fills My Heart

Watching these ladies and gentlemen putting on their hoodies and sweats, ready to venture on the one to two mile walk, I admire them. Always did from afar. Now, I have joined the ranks. What attracted me to this was feeling of Hope and desire for Change. Watching somebody pumping their arms and legs. Making lips purse when they breathe. Their focused attention on the next step ahead, it made me feel honored. I feel marveled.

I get this thought “Hey, I can do that.” Then this thought becomes a desire, “I will do that.” Then it transforms to an action, “ I am doing that.” I smile at the memory, "I've done that and still do." Watching the dolphins at Sea World as they do amazing tricks, hypnotizes me. Doing flips over their trainers head. Jumping 50 feet in the air to eat some tiny fish.  Escaping earth’s gravity for what seems to be forever.

My niece Prece  produces the same wonderment for me. Doing handstands on the balance beam.  Running at escape velocity speed when she attacks the vault. Joggers in the marathon complete that 13^th Mile has me transfixed. Guess, the reason I like watching sports is that something amazing—something marvelous—could be just a blink away.

My Brother's Eyes

Don’t have the same eye as my brother when he watches sports. It still amazes me how he is able to dissect the movements, actions, and strategies of the players during football games. Did my best to follow. Read some of the strategy and concepts in his coaches books about the West Coast Offense or the Triangle Offense, but I don’t know what to look for. Guess, its like chess but with moving parts. Its all a blur to me. My love for sports has not changed much, except I marvel more. Can’t break down the athletes’ movements. Just not in my wheelhouse. However, seeing the human spirit in every step, I can see that. 

Spirits Rises At the Sound of Music

Well, I am marveled by the person’s spirit. Watching a person getting mind, body, and spirit right just lifts me up, it’s a freaking Rocky movie. The Rocky theme song is playing in my head. Sometimes it the Chariots of Fire. Its so uplifting. It’s so life-affirming. It’s so alive.

Daily choice of being healthier, mentally and physically. I marvel how in the time when luxuries of life are at our fingertips: Pay per view, Wii, internet, Facebook, QVC. People still decide to walk. They decide run. They decide to gym it.

It’s inspiring.

Every day one can decide to become something different. Everyday one can decide to be something more. Every day one can decide to shed what one is in order to become what one needs to--and want-- to be. Every day one can do this.

Journey of Thousand Miles Begins With. . .

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Time for me to join the ranks. Time to shed my old self and become something more. Time for the Rocky song to start playing.

Faith Is Yours

Can’t undo the things I’ve done. Looks like I can’t make up things that I failed to do. I have made my apologies. I made my attempts at reconciliation and redemption. My sorries were apparently too little and too late. My efforts not suffice. Wish that I could change things. Wish I knew another way to re-connect. They are at different place and I do not have the wherewithal to reconnect. This part is a mystery.

Being unanswered, says a lot. “No Answer” is an answer.

They were polite by accepting friend requests. However, it appears they moved on. And I am not invited. No hate in my heart for them or the situation. Just being a ghost. . .doesn’t wear well with me. I need to shed the hollow spirit shell. It sufficed in protecting me from the cold allowing me to heal at this soul loss. Now this hollow shell’s heaviness collects new pain and sorrow. A burden I no longer wish to carry. It’s stopping me from growing. From moving on.

No new joy comes. What’s left is but good memories of a time past. Their profile pics remind me I am not in other’s lives. Their comments and posts tell me they are alive. I thrill at their life and joys, but the feeling I get weighs. Perhaps, I’m wrong? But it feels like am dead in their eyes. I will not pursue because I have been accepted but unanswered. A soul banishment. Perhaps it was the previous me they accepted. Perhaps it’s the past me that they banished. Points in my life I am. Points in my life I was. Points in my life that I can’t erase. I am those things and no longer am those things. I hear me and I no longer will be a ghost. My journey with them this lifetime looks like its past.  Happiness is there and theirs. That will be enough for now. I need to journey and find my own.

Big Smile, thank you for letting me share some time with these good people. Looks like I will close some doors because there’s a draft on my soul. The winds of absence chills me. It stills my heavy heart. It still beats, so I can’t stay here no more. Ghost no more. Forgive me for letting go. Please open new doors for me.

I hope someday to be forgiven. I have forgiven myself and I hope others may follow.

I hurt. I loss.

I . . .

I believe it’s time. I believe it’s time to move on.

It’s time to let go. 

Time to grow up. Time to Grow on.

I need my soul to heal.

Big Smile, send them my Love. Please give me the wisdom and strength to accept their absence. If willing, may our next journey together be soon. May the next time together, I am better in the lessons of lifelong friendships that I failed this lifetime. If I have just one or two lifelong friends, I am okay with that.  

For now, I’ll just pray and be thankful. Please refill me. Please fill my heart with love again.

My Faith is Yours.

USC Trojans--Do the Right Thing

Okay, I was starting this post before synchronicity hit. It was a good sidetrack. Prior Post was "To Dottie, Barnes and Noble. . ."

First Step of Recovery Is . . .Or Opportunity Knocking, Answer the Door
Mark McGuire, Sorry. Pete Carroll, Sad, but Glad.

That's the Gist. Hope Brevity Will Speak Volumes

Newspapers, Magazines, TV News Show, Talk Radio, ESPN Radio, Fox Sports news, MLB TV, other blogs, etcetera will undoubtedly fill in the rest.

Nutshell--Mark McGuire, Sorry. Pete Carroll, Sad, but Glad.