Fear. Just doing me a solid.

More than anything else I think fear feels the mo

st like getting your head bashed in by a brick. 

Yes. I chose something very un-tangable to relate to bricks. Because I fear. I know fear. And I'm afraid of that. I fear for the f

reaking rotting world. I fear for the fact that we all love the creepiest dark posts. I fear for me. I care about what peo

ple think about me. I fear because I care too much about myself. Getting a brick smashed in my face. Yeah that describes how I feel when I'm afraid

 all too well. When I'm afraid my body shuts down. Starting with my head and then it just disintegrates down the rest

 of my body. I shake, I breath funny, and I start to notice t

hat the earth really is spinning thousand

s of miles an hour. I shatter into a million pieces when I'm afraid too. That's ok. every time fear shatters and breaks me, I look back and

 say wow. that window was restricting my view anyway

. I keep looking at the world through this window when I could be watching it from space. From the moon. So fear. Fear is my fr

iend. TAKE THAT FEAR. I like you. That's right. I showed you. And I thank you. I was scared of my future and girls and school and PEOPLE. And I hated you for it. But would you look at that. You were just watching my back. I can see

 everything now! I see how shallow these silly children around me are. I see how everything always works out no matter w

hat. I see a girl. And that's right. I can talk to her now. 

all because you, fear. I was sick of you. And I still feel you. It just doesn't mean anything to me anymore. And I never want to 

be sick with fear again. SO BRING IT ON WORLD. Oh yeah the world. I w

as afraid of the world. Actually I still am afraid of the world. Cause let's get real here, the world is kind of rough 

and lame sometimes. People suffer. Life sucks. I'm probably like one of the luckiest people ever born compared to the rest of the w

orld. Too bad as children we were all brainwas

hed and lost our ability to be divergent thinkers. Now we are never going to solve the pro

blem of the world. So I guess that's a good reason to fear. I love the wor

ld too. It's good for you. You get nailed by bricks all the time. But then you laugh about it later and life is better. Hahahah I like the fact 

that I think I can bea

t fear. That's like me trying to run through a brick wall. I mean that's totally irrational and I know I can't beat fear. But I like to think 

I can. That's a good goal. Take on the world by controlling my fear. That's it! For the rest of my life I'll just you know, take 

it head on. And I'll remembe

r what my old buddy fear has taught me. Sweet I'm excited for this. I'm excited for life. Oh yeah bricks. Fear did me a solid in my life. Solid. Bricks...

Rocks

Here's a tip for you future parents out there. When your kid start throwing rocks off of a cliff, don't stop it. 

There is power in holding a rock. God's creation in the palm of your hand. And it's all yours. It's yours to do how you will. 

Here are 3 examples of what you can do with a rock.

Chuck it in the air as far as you can hoping it flies. 

Find a huge rock and roll it down the side of a mountain to create a  landslide. 

Or throw it and turn away, not caring to see if it left a wake of wreckage in its path or if it flew. 

The dreamers. The destroyers. The defiers. 

A rock has no power until somebody holds it. Only then do the possiblities become endless. Endless combinations of creation. Endless ways of destruction.

Now the question that scares me is what am I going to do when that rock is pressed into my hand? 

Even before then. What rock am I going to choose? Colorful? Smooth? Jagged? 

I'm scared of rocks. Rocks will determine my future. What rock do I want? Do I want to follow my dreams with my rock? And fly. Do I want to drag my rock and all the other rocks down with me? Or do I want to ignore the rocks? Defy. 

Choose to dream.

I'm telling you to dream. But I'm not even sure if that is what I am going to choose. 

Even though I am so unsure, there is one rock I am sure about. I've held onto it with all my heart throughout my life. And I hope you can find a rock like that too. Rocks rock. But rocks can hurt. So be careful which ones you pick. 

These Beating Hearts Are Bleeding

Love is like salt. You can't explain it, but somehow, you just know. 

Salt. Salt heals wounds when they are bleeding. At a price. A raging flash of searing pain. And it lingers. And you remember...

All of these beating hearts in the world. Blood. A symbol of love is constantly pumping and pumping. Love is constant. Love is reliable. Without it, life is dead. 

All of these beating hearts.

These beating hearts are bleeding. 

These beating hearts have love rushing through their veins. Yet they're choosing to bleed. Bleeding out. It's a cry for help. All they want is more of it. They want more blood. 

Or do they want more salt. Either way they just want love. Sometimes love is salt. It's painful. But at least you know it's there. At least you know you're capable of love. 

Other times love is the rush of blood running through your body. We crave more and more. 

So why do the majority of us choose to bleed? Too many. Too many deep cuts. Too many people ignoring love. Too many people attacking it.

Too many of us refuse to let it heal. Too many of us are scared of the salt. Too many of us just want the thrill of blood. So when the wounds come, we just let it bleed. 

We bleed and bleed. And our hearts get tired. 

Wake up! Can't you see that you are bleeding! Eventually you are going to fade to nothing. Eventually you will feel nothing.

First start by stitching up yourself. Use salt. Salt is confessing to your parents. Salt is admitting that you are wrong. Salt is letting in the people who care about you. 

These beating hearts need changing. The world's got it all wrong. Hearts don't beat to bleed. They beat to love. 

Oh to kid

I'm angry. I'm angry about the fact that I can't do whatever I want anymore.

No one applauds me if I jump three inches in the air.

Where's my praise for being able to drink out of cup without spilling all over my face?

I can remember the wheels on the bus go round n' round still too.

I know more words, I can talk in proper sentences, I still know what 2+2 equals,  catching a ball is easy, I have good manners...

But nobody cares anymore.

Dang it. What happens to people? It's horrific? We start being mean and serious. We're boring.

People start telling us what to do as we get older. Before our tiny peanut brains can even understand it we are told what to do. The only difference between an awesome two year old and a boring normal person is that the normal person starts to listen.

I'm also angry that Mr. Nelson favorites the writers that post during the week instead of right before the deadline like me. This is me doing whatever the heck I want because that's really what being a kid is about.

I just want to have a thought, and just do it. Without any rationalizations. And have nobody tell me that what I did was wrong.

I want people to look at me like I'm a kid again. 

I could let out my best dinosaur roar at any time and people would just think I was cute.

I could stick my face into my bowl of ice cream just out of curiosity to see if it would give me a brain freeze.

I could walk around in shoes and t-shirts that are 10 sizes too big.

I would actually be expected to take naps every day.

I could run up and down the rows at church .

I could cut my hair with safety scissors.

I could cut my friends hair with safety scissors.

I could still play with legos and lincoln logs.

I could run around with my shirt off.

I could stare at people.

I could do.

Whatever

I.

Want.

Who write's about music?

Music.

You feel it all around you. 7 8 9 23 forty seven come on the answer is 2.

Life                         is like a song. 

Because songs are fun, life is fun.

OH freak. You know when you are listening to a song. And you are just digging the heck out of it. Every sound and word just rolls out a map of life in your head. All of the sudden the entire world makes sense and nobody really cares except you. And then that song is forever awesome. 

I want more moments like that. Hearing a song for the first time. Or just intently listening to a song for the first time can make miracles in your brain happen. When you notice every time it speeds up or slows down. Each beat makes you happier and happier. Or when one line unlocks this freaking annoying puzzle in your brain. 

I'm telling you. Music is just the way that we all help each other figure out life. 

Is that unreal or what?

If you have no idea what I'm talking about you need to get out more. 

YES! I AM PUMPED NOW. THERE'S SO MUCH MUSIC OUT THERE TO FIND! SO I'LL STOP TALKING ABOUT MUSIC AND ACTUALLY GO LISTEN TO IT NOW. 

Welcome Home Son

The Father: Welcome home son.

I've come home. All my life has been an escape route. Now my head is spinning. I'm splitting. And I don't know if I can come back... But that doesn't matter. You've always known.

Feel the arms wrapped around me. By your hand. I've come to feel again.

Home. 

I am. I am real. Finally. It's taken me so long to find where I belong. My real home. It's so easy to forget. To be blinded by the pretty girl. The long nights of "fun". Caring about the wrong things. I'm sorry. I was completely oblivious. You have devoted everything to help...

To help me see.

What pain have I caused you? Every time I have expected disappointment it's never there. The pain is in your eyes. And that pain rocks me to the core. I can't show appreciation enough. How could I? Without fail, all I receive for my mistakes is love and understanding.

Now I only hope I can see myself as you see me. Slowly, each word you've taught can come flooding back. The wisdom. The love. One day I'll be like you.

Just a boy living up to be like his old man. Why did that seem so lame before? Why did that ever leave? You've given me the most precious knowledge that I can think of. I know who I am.

"Welcome Home Son"

I know I'm human. Because nobody could care for me that much if I wasn't.