Here is a quick thought or observation (if you will).

the multitudes of thoughts and dreams (or nightmares) that come with not telling somebody you love them are worse than the pain of knowing, for a fact, the person you love does not love you.

… I think, if you have not told that person, you mind wonders in two possibilities simultaneously:

1. you tell them and they love you too
2. and you tell them and they don't.

So, if you let them know how you feel, you will know which of the two it is — and thus the misery (or joy) is one of the two and not both.

In theory, anyway.

They say, you must do one thing that scares you everyday.

… today I did just that.

… now, here is my dilemma: I am more afraid of the consequences (or lack thereof) of what I just did.

… alas it is done.  But, here is a question I have.  If you are to live by that mantra, then my question is (or rather a statement):

there are 365 days in a year — how many things scare you?

I'd like to think the older you get, less things scare you, no?  In fact one should not be afraid of a lot of things — it's a terrible way to live, no?

Now we wait and see what the world with throw at me for being bold;  I am sure there are reasons why some things should never be done:

safety in familiarity.

We shall see in front.

This is going to be a quick one — the idea is that I don't want to forget this thought.

Alas, I woke up this morning with this thought in mind:

Who am I?

That is supposed to be what the hell is I? As in I, the pronoun.  Who am I, to put everything after me? You know like?

I love you; I am (verb); I think; I, I, I; I this; I that;

What lies behind that I, what exactly is it? How exactly do you start defining it.  I bet you nobody on the planet can truly and completely tell who they are.  So, why this obsession with self?

The first thing you learn in Buddhism is letting go of the idea of self, the I, the conceited idea of self — ain't nothing more selfish than describing yourself.

But, then again, how does one survive this maze of existence without being and acknowledging that existence?

I (ironic huh?) think the minute one places that pronoun before everything else, that in itself implies whatever the meaning of 'I' is now, is in the past, it is no longer what you are after you say it.

The I, is almost a snap-shot of what you can say about yourself at that moment in time — an opinion is only an expression of a thought.

Wait, then, just, maybe thats exactly what the I is, a collection of thoughts of what you are, maybe.

Meditate on this, I will.

Good morning, it is morning.  I've been waking up just before the sun rises these past couple of days (except yesterday).

Strangely, if I wake up after the sun has risen, I am less productive than if I wake up before it does.  Something special about a natural-organic alarm clock, its a peaceful wake-up clock. 

You know what, everytime an alarm rings my heart skips a beat, in fact, I generally have my phone on silent, the sudden ringing does the same to my heart, which I am assuming in the long run it ain't good for my heart.

A lot of things are not good for my heart, a lot.  Which is why it is better not to feel a thing, emotions are detrimental to my heart.

I still find it amazing that an emotion can actually be felt physically through the heart, even though emotions are all in the mind. 

I like that, the body manifesting an intangible entity.

Oh, just after I wrote that post yesterday, I found out that my sister is starting her own Law Firm (the firm baby, volume 2!).  Which most likely means, I'd have to get shit moving quicker by April or I will have to take an early retirement and get me a good paying job, to support my sister in her new venture.

I believe, I have done quite a bit for my family, but the minute I go downstairs to make coffee I get that overwhelming feeling that I have not done anything.  In fact I think I have done more for people outside of my family than I have for my family.

As gratifying it might to have aided people in realising their dreams, it is quite upsetting that none of them are family.  That must change.  In fact, I need to find my Buddhist book, I haven't seen it since I moved back.

I need to still this mind — then train it to focus on one thing and one thing only: family.

Err, so why the elephant in the room? (I love this metaphor, by the way: it is simple as it is visual, I mean: how can one ignore an elephant in the room? how the hell did it get to be in room? can you imagine somebody trying to smuggle an elephant? LOL).

… back to the elephant.  Not a waking minute do I not think of her, not one, but I think now I understand it, I understand that phrase: unrequited love.

… but, I am good.  That realisation is what I needed, now we start rebuilding that proverbial Cancerian shell.  If I was a crab, I'd say in the past 8 weeks I'd been turned upside down with my 'belly' exposed, but we are swinging (left to right) till we catch enough momentum to back on all eight.

Whoever said: it is better to have loved than to have not loved at all, has only imagined what love is.

'till the next (soapie) episode.