Dreamers

This summer i had the chance to travel and spend my vacation for three and a half months in the great state of texas, during that time i began wondering what makes the difference between a normal guy and a legend. This thought debacled me for weeks and months. I began looking at legends and seeing what made them different from the rest of society, what made them stand out like a pillar, what made them legends. I began looking at different legends in our society. I remembered the immense disconcertion i felt when i stood on the very stones that Martin Luther King Jr. gave his legendary “I have a dream speech.” I will never forget looking out upon the reflecting pool and seeing the image of the Washington monument ripple in the water below. I closed my eyes and began imagining what it must have looked like with the thousands of people hanging from the trees just to see him speak. One man with one line changed the direction of the mindset of a nation. He had a dream that though others enjoyed the thought of not many would fight for. Men stood toe to toe with those who opposed them and their ideals. They were persecuted for their dreams, physically attacked for their views. Some were even terminated from their dreams. Driving through Tennessee I had the chance to stop in Memphis and stand on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel where he was shot and killed for what he believed, for what he dreamed. His dream did not die with him, his legacy carried on after his death. He became of legend for what he did, what he fought for, what he died for.
In 2008 I served at the pleasure of the President as a White House intern. As i sat in the oval office and began to realize the history that surrounded me. As i looked at the Resolute Desk that sat there in the oval office I recognized table that a legendary President leaned on during a national crisis. John F. Kennedy was a legend in the eyes of the American public and the world. During the height of the Cold War he had a dream of peaceful society where men put there differences aside, laid down their weapons and talked peacefully at a table to work out their disagreements. No matter what his past dictates to us today his record stands true. He fought for freedom of the oppressed and the downcast. He was seen during his time as weak and futile but yet history dictates something much different. It shows us that combat is not the final option. On a rainy day in May with the sun setting behind me on the horizon of the Dallas skyline i stood on the grassy knoll underneath the Book Depositry building. I became overwhelemed with emotion. As crazy as it seems i became teary eyed as i stared at the X’s that marked where a legend was cut down in his prime but a snipers bullet. His dreams didnt die with the man they lived on, they were passed on from administration to administration until they were finally realized later on down the road.
In my search to discover what makes a legend i have come to the realization that it takes dreaming. But dreams alone do not define a man. When one lives solely in the future and it controls his total focus he loses sight of the present. Dreams must be matched up with one thing and one thing only, dreamers need to have a fight buried deep within their soul. A mans fight for nothing is useless, its a waste. A mans fight must be coupled with one thing a dream. Then a man will become the greatest feared adversary in the world, he will become a legend. This discovery provoked one question in my mind. Who are the future legends of our present time? Who are our dreamers? We need our leaders to have dreams, radical, culture changing dreams birthed deep inside of them to where they taste the very words that rattle in their mind. They need to have the courage to stand toe to toe with those that oppose them and fight for the very lively hood of their dreams. Then will history mark them as true legends. A man does not merely become a legend for what he dreams of doing, he becomes one by fighting for what he believes is right and true, no matter what the cost is. A true legend is marked by standing by what he believes when push comes to shove. For fighting till the brow of his forehead is beaded with sweat. This is not reserved for the great and popular. Any man can become a legend. If a man has a dream birthed inside him he needs to grab the bull bull by the horns and ride it and spur it into submission no matter how rough or painful. I have a dream. Those words ring true in my head. They dart from side to side as if they are a gazelle running for their lives. The trouble becomes when a fight is needed to totally realize that dreams are a real possibility. This is no easy task. A man must be totally submitted to this task. It must envelope the very being of who he is and who he desires to become. A man must realize who he was before he can become who he wants to be. A realization of self is vitally necessary on what a man dreams and the fight that is birthed within him. As kids we all had dreams on waht we wanted to become. But it is the fight within us that drove us to those dreams. It becomes a point in persons life when he claws and strains and faces failure to see what he is made of. In the face of failure and destruction of dreams a man must stare failure in the eyes and smirk. That smirk represents something that failure wasnt expecting. That smirk represents the undying determination of a man with a dream that is passionate about fighting for something he only sees in his dreams. The fight that he is so strong and has such an anchor inside of him that he can taste. When this country has people who have that fight and that determination we will be back on the track of a strong secure nation. When we have a culture who wont wince at the face of defeat and loss and stands toe to toe with the ideas that oppose them we will see a great difference in all the aspects of our society, and in the end isnt that what we all want....to become legends.

Dreamers

This summer i had the chance to travel and spend my vacation for three and a half months in the great state of texas, during that time i began wondering what makes the difference between a normal guy and a legend. This thought debacled me for weeks and months. I began looking at legends and seeing what made them different from the rest of society, what made them stand out like a pillar, what made them legends. I began looking at different legends in our society. I remembered the immense disconcertion i felt when i stood on the very stones that Martin Luther King Jr. gave his legendary “I have a dream speech.” I will never forget looking out upon the reflecting pool and seeing the image of the Washington monument ripple in the water below. I closed my eyes and began imagining what it must have looked like with the thousands of people hanging from the trees just to see him speak. One man with one line changed the direction of the mindset of a nation. He had a dream that though others enjoyed the thought of not many would fight for. Men stood toe to toe with those who opposed them and their ideals. They were persecuted for their dreams, physically attacked for their views. Some were even terminated from their dreams. Driving through Tennessee I had the chance to stop in Memphis and stand on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel where he was shot and killed for what he believed, for what he dreamed. His dream did not die with him, his legacy carried on after his death. He became of legend for what he did, what he fought for, what he died for.
In 2008 I served at the pleasure of the President as a White House intern. As i sat in the oval office and began to realize the history that surrounded me. As i looked at the Resolute Desk that sat there in the oval office I recognized table that a legendary President leaned on during a national crisis. John F. Kennedy was a legend in the eyes of the American public and the world. During the height of the Cold War he had a dream of peaceful society where men put there differences aside, laid down their weapons and talked peacefully at a table to work out their disagreements. No matter what his past dictates to us today his record stands true. He fought for freedom of the oppressed and the downcast. He was seen during his time as weak and futile but yet history dictates something much different. It shows us that combat is not the final option. On a rainy day in May with the sun setting behind me on the horizon of the Dallas skyline i stood on the grassy knoll underneath the Book Depositry building. I became overwhelemed with emotion. As crazy as it seems i became teary eyed as i stared at the X’s that marked where a legend was cut down in his prime but a snipers bullet. His dreams didnt die with the man they lived on, they were passed on from administration to administration until they were finally realized later on down the road.
In my search to discover what makes a legend i have come to the realization that it takes dreaming. But dreams alone do not define a man. When one lives solely in the future and it controls his total focus he loses sight of the present. Dreams must be matched up with one thing and one thing only, dreamers need to have a fight buried deep within their soul. A mans fight for nothing is useless, its a waste. A mans fight must be coupled with one thing a dream. Then a man will become the greatest feared adversary in the world, he will become a legend. This discovery provoked one question in my mind. Who are the future legends of our present time? Who are our dreamers? We need our leaders to have dreams, radical, culture changing dreams birthed deep inside of them to where they taste the very words that rattle in their mind. They need to have the courage to stand toe to toe with those that oppose them and fight for the very lively hood of their dreams. Then will history mark them as true legends. A man does not merely become a legend for what he dreams of doing, he becomes one by fighting for what he believes is right and true, no matter what the cost is. A true legend is marked by standing by what he believes when push comes to shove. For fighting till the brow of his forehead is beaded with sweat. This is not reserved for the great and popular. Any man can become a legend. If a man has a dream birthed inside him he needs to grab the bull bull by the horns and ride it and spur it into submission no matter how rough or painful. I have a dream. Those words ring true in my head. They dart from side to side as if they are a gazelle running for their lives. The trouble becomes when a fight is needed to totally realize that dreams are a real possibility. This is no easy task. A man must be totally submitted to this task. It must envelope the very being of who he is and who he desires to become. A man must realize who he was before he can become who he wants to be. A realization of self is vitally necessary on what a man dreams and the fight that is birthed within him. As kids we all had dreams on waht we wanted to become. But it is the fight within us that drove us to those dreams. It becomes a point in persons life when he claws and strains and faces failure to see what he is made of. In the face of failure and destruction of dreams a man must stare failure in the eyes and smirk. That smirk represents something that failure wasnt expecting. That smirk represents the undying determination of a man with a dream that is passionate about fighting for something he only sees in his dreams. The fight that he is so strong and has such an anchor inside of him that he can taste. When this country has people who have that fight and that determination we will be back on the track of a strong secure nation. When we have a culture who wont wince at the face of defeat and loss and stands toe to toe with the ideas that oppose them we will see a great difference in all the aspects of our society, and in the end isnt that what we all want....to become legends.

Memories and the fight against them

Memories are the things of dreams, so says Disney. Memories have for so long been things to cherish and hold dear. They have been placed in high places in our lives. We revere them, cherish them, and recall them when times are rough. But yet memories have a flip side, a evil stepsister. They can often bring up painful occurrences of the past. They bring to mind things of the past that we wish we had forgotten. It is these things of the past that if we choose to forget often reappear at the worst times. When you are down and feeling low these memories suddenly reapper on the grid of our minds. How is it that we have this silent enemy, this deadly killer. If life was so much simpler. We often quote this to ourselves, we whisper it under the covers of our beds at night with tears streaming down our faces, we scream it out in the pouring rain after a horrible experience. But the face is life is not simple. It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to test us and force us to grow anyway and by any means possible. These memories come in many shapes, forms, and fashions. It could be a bad breakup with a girlfriend, that time when you caught her cheating on you with another man. It could be the pain of losing a national championship because of your kick and with the tears streaming down your face lying in the mud with the rain whipping at your back. It could be leaving a job you loved prematurely. With all of these memories in my life brings a sharp stabbing pain that penetrates to the very core of who I am. It brings anger, fustration, and deep sadness. But I have learned that it is not the memories that cause pain. It is not the realization of the incident and the immense nature of these memories but it is the fact that we choose to focus on the painful side of the memory. Where is hope? Where is the overcoming the pain? Where is the retribution and the recourse of man in our troubled times. In all of these situations there seems a hopless nature. A sense of great loss and discouragement. But it is the fact that I have chosen to focus on the pain of those situations and not the grand scheme of things and the ultimate total opportunity I had facing in front of me. Yes I was in pain when I caught my girlfriend with another man, but in that pain there laid hope as I shut the door behind me. With her calling my name out in the background as tears streaming down my face I realized there was an amazing girl out there somewhere for me. My options had just become wide open. My horizons were bright. Yes I was horribly sad and low when my kick was blocked and we lost the national championship. But there was hope when my team came over and picked me up out of the mud and stood me on my feet as the mud and tears fell from my body. There was hope in the fact that I knew in my heart I would have the chance to right my mistakes in college someday. I was devastated when I left the White House. As I walked out that cold iron gate and heard that awful sound slam behind me I knew that I would never step foot in that office again while President Bush was in office. But with the slamming of that gate came a slamming of a chapter in my life. As the tears streamed down my face I knew that I was beginning a new chapter in my life with a higher calling and higher stakes. Though the pain was seemingly to great to handle I remembered that love is blind, victory is in the way you look at it, and power is fleeting. These memories will never be lost in the grand scheme of things. The good and bad bring to mind the journey I have traversed. It is so easy to look at the negative. But winners never took the easy way. Great soldiers never took the easy tasks. They made it hard on purpose to grow stonger. Through all the pain I trudge on, ever so slowly towards progress and growth of who I really am. And that is the ultimate goal. A change in who I am. A recalibration of myself as a person. Down to the very atom and molecule I possess in my body.

The Mirror of the Soul

Tonight I sit, raw and exposed. The very being of who I am sitting across from me in the mirror. I see the immense depravity of my soul. There is a hand that rests on my shoulder. It’s the hand of a giant, weighing down on my very being as if to go as far as to burden my soul. It is as if it represents all my hopes dreams and ambitions resting upon my shoulders. It is what guides me in life, though I wish it didn’t. I wish I could remove myself from its terrorizing grasp and free myself from its bonds. I feel as if I am a slave to this giant hand, this faceless enemy. As I stare into my eyes I see something. A glimmer, a quick reflection as if a burst of light has suddenly reflected from my eye. It gives me hope as I stare into this gateway into my soul. I see the pain and the distant fleeting memories of the past almost as if it was a miniature playback of my life. It doesn’t dwell on the pain of the past but speeds through it and continues on towards something. And then I see events that have yet to occur. I see myself living out the dreams and calling on my life. I see myself in front of thousands of teenagers, I see myself once again strollin the halls of congress, I see myself at the front of a church altar in my uniform, I see myself in combat holding a soldier who is about to enter eternity and I am comforting him in every way I know how as if to command hope from a hopeless situation. And as I continue to watch this beautiful three part theatrics play out on the stage of the unknown the weight and pressure of that hand begins to lift. I see the wanting and desire of the immoral things begin to drift slowly from my eyes and a new feeling floods in. Excitement fills the cavaties in my face and a new wave of emotion over takes me. And suddenly I realize I am staring into a mirror, just a regular old mirror that is reflecting my image. Startled by this image of myself and the honest and real look into how my mind is operating now I continue on with my journey. To become the person you must be you must remember who you were. This thought plays over and over in my mind and I am reminded of how much of a cocky ingrate I was and in some ways still am. Yet, I feel that in every human being there lies this desire to somehow create a “bad Ass” side…pardon the French. My problem has now become one of how do I quell this side of me and put these emotions under submission and authority and create a side that all men are willing to know and understand. I feel that I have in some ways done this…but I am left to ponder how I did this. I pray for humility but in doing so I am overtaken with a sense of fear. Fear that the process of humbling myself will be too painful and I will not have the audacity and the courage to continue on with the molding and shaping of who I am suppose to be. The process isn’t easy and in the hardship of the process I know that pain will come out. No one in their right mind asks to be put into the refiners fire. It causes pain and forces the chaff and flaws to be worked out. But that’s what I desire, the pursuit of perfection. I want my only fear in life to be the fear of being average. Average has no place in my life nor should it. As I continue in this walk I must come to the realization that I have a dark side, a prideful side, a sinful side and learn how to reel it in and bring it under submission. I must face it head on with a boldness and that glimmer of hope lingering in my eye as I pursue change. That is the only way to live, one day at a time pursuing the betterment of myself no matter what the cost….no matter what the cost.

The Beckoning of the Flesh

As I sit here tonight I see how much my ongoing struggle to beckon the flesh under control and submission to a higher authority much like the night that I am presently in. The light gives way to the darkness and the darkness rules the night. It hides those who wish not to be seen. It gives way to ideas and thoughts and conceals them in mystery and yet it is darkest right before the dawn. It has a grand breaking point. There is a point in which the darkness can no longer rule. Dawn gives way and a new light beckons into existence and reveals that which is in the darkness. At first it is weak as it climbs over the mountains and soon sweeps into the valleys with force and determination to rule the day. The darkness cannot win. But yet even during the day darkness is still prevalent. Shadows hide the light from certain areas. But those shadows can only be seen by those who wish to find shelter from the piercing burning nature of the light. In my own life it was dark, so very dark that no man could see what I wish to be hidden. But yet my darkness fell. It was crushed by a piercing penetrating light that no act nor deed could hide from. It was as if I wished the light to come in. I begged it to produce and reveal that which was hidden. But yet shadows remain. Inside those shadows are opportunities to fall and fail again. But it is not overpowering. It is not commanding. It is not stronger than the light. In those shadows I know exists pleasure. But the beauty of the shadows is one of peace. My acts now are only mere shadows and dust, not physical consequence to my decisions. The beauty of the shadows is that I must seek them out. And if I desire to stay in the light there is no need to search out the shadows. The darkness of the shadows will not find me but I must find it. I must search them out. In finding these shadows presents a flaw in my character. It shows that I wish not to truly live in the light as God has commanded me to. But soon I am again overwhelmed by darkness. Though it is not safe I have found to stay in the moonlight. Beethoven got it right in his moonlight sonata. Though it begins dark and forboding, it leaves the listener with a sense of hope in the darkness. Though there is darkness all around the music still plays and draws me forward. Even on the darkest night the moonlight presents a safehaven to walk and travel through so that the darkness does not win. Even in my darkest times a light is still there offering protection and guidance even in the darkest of conditions. Though the shadows are more prevalent, I choose to stay in the light as my guide. And the moonlight is not the only light that prevails. There are streelights that serve to guide me. These streetlights are friends and family that encourage me to press on and stay in that glorious light. Then I have my flashlight to guide me even when I have backed myself in a shadow controlled enviroment. Gods words serves as that light in these dark situations. Through this time in these dark periods my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. I can see through it. I can see through its lies and obstacles that wish to trip me up and force me to fail again. I feel stronger with every day. And when I feel that I cannot continue in this darkness I can lie down and rest in the light. As suddenly as it started the darkness ends and a light breaks through. The nights do not seem as long and foreboding as they once were, but they bring hope and grace. Even in the dark times I have learned to search out that guiding light. And that guiding light is my salvation in the truth of Jesus Christ.
Even the mouths of fools brings about wisdom. In my favorite movie a line is quoted “In all the gin joints in all the towsn in all the world she walks into mine.” And that’s how this whole story started. It all revolved around a girl and a ignorant decision to follow love no matter what the cost to my heart and soul. I placed the feeling of love and being wanted over the direction I was supposed to be headed. But yet a man whom I admire once quoted a line from the dead poets society “Carpe Diem…seize the day, make your life extraordinary.” I entered this struggle a youngter and I plan to leave a man. Though a woman tore me down I still have my heart. I have the heart of a warrior. I always have. I have always fought for what I thought was the best for me and what was right. I have stood for justice and desired what would push me ahead. I have set lofty goals. When I began drinking I did not pay good money for for company I paid it to profit in the death of the thoughts that controlled me and pushed me along. And now my warrior mentality will help me win this fight against the devil. I will emerge victorious, even if it is the last thing I do. If it is it will be a soldiers end. I will have died with my boots on. I will have ended my life fighting for my soul…fighting for the betterment of something that is yet to come…fighting for victory. Every morning I wake up I smell it. I love the smell of napal in the morning. You know, napalm. That gasoline smell it gives off after it explodes. That smell, it’s the smell of victory. I Love that smell every morning because I am not left saying I could have been a contender, I could have been somebody, instead of what I am…a bum. I am left saying that I will win, I am a warrior. After all tomorrow is another day.

String Quartet in C Sharp Minor

Surely this cannot be the end. Grace will be granted. God has promised it. But yet I feel so alone. These past 40 days have been hard. No drop of alcohol has touched my lips, no tobacco has graced my mouth but yet I desire that buzz. I desire the stress to be gone. I desire that release in any form it can come in. Why must I wait for this to pass. Why must I pass through this hard time. What good can come of it. If this is making me stronger and better than why haven’t I seen or felt the change. All I feel is darker, farther away from God than in the past. As my favorite song plays I feel a sense of urgency. Why? I have no idea but yet its there. Its sits there beckoning me forward. There is something out there waiting for me. As I sit here and listen to “string quartet in c sharp minor” I feel the pain of a nation. I feel my own sad past creep up behind me and pull me backwards. I feel its cold hands wrap around me. Where is God in the midst of this storm that rages for me right now. Why cant I be free. Why cant I feel free. Why is this mighty weight hanging so heavy on my shoulders. IF there was someway I could release it I would. And as the strings play their subtle tune hope beckons softly to continue, but sadness arises and pain is still there as the final note drums out softly and my bed beckons me sweetly.

The begginning of the end

As I lie here in bed I am overwhelmed with emotion. Anger and rage fill my body. A sense of revenge over takes me and tears away the very thing I desire, sleep. No longer do I walk the hallowed halls of congress, nor do I sit in the oval office with the powerful. But yet all my mind and body desire, and craves for is power, glory, and the respect of man. I value what men think so highly rather than what God thinks. But yet in my journey I come again to another crossroads. Do I follow Gods plan or set off on my own plan of glory and splendor. Or are they parallel. Can I reach those lofty goals I have in my life and still complete Gods calling on my life? Will I ever see those things that I desire so greatly. I know deep within my soul a fire burns. It permeates every part of me till there is nothing left. It scorches the very being of who I am. I know, somehow I just know that I am destined for greatness and glory. But how do I achieve it and what vehicle will it take me to that goal. I had glory once but it was taken away by a tumor, I had it again but it was taken away by opportunity, I had it another time and it was taken away by the call of God. It is so sweet. The taste of it is sweet to my mouth but yet it is ripped away from me at every chance it goes there and I am left to ponder the thought of will it ever return. I enjoy the monotony of sitting at a desk for ten hours a day researching and strategizing for my political party. It gives me a sense of worth and a sense of greatness. But in this there lies a paradigm shift of beliefs and struggles. Why must I battle with my flesh so much? Why is it harder for me to focus on the task at hand rather than look to memories of the past and the glory I once attained. Or look to the future and smell the power. Power is what I crave. The ability to be in a place of decision making. People have said I will do great things. They have prophesieid saying I would be known throughout the land and have the respect of man. I feel that this can only be accomplished in the realm of politics. But yet I have a deep feeling of commitment to my calling. Could I have gotten it all so terribly wrong? Should I still be today walking the halls of congress and be among the movers and shapers of our glorious union? Having the power to shape the very face of our society with the stroke of a pen. Should I be in a foxhole in some God forsaken country fighting for the very freedoms I hold dear. Having the power to take a mans life and send him to meet God almighty laying there in my hands. It was once like this. It was once in my power to do both. It was once so easy to do it. The flick of the wrist and the twitch of a finger were the avenues to produce this. And now it seems as if it is now only a mere distant memory and an altruistic thought. I know I will bring glory to my families name. I will place it on a pedestal high up for the nation and world to know. But yet in that thought lies the undying question of how? How will I do such an amazing feat of will. I have the mental tenacity to continue on my journey…but for how long. How long can a man sit and ponder the past and anticipate the future. How long can a man sit idly by as the world around him grows and matures into a new era. The nation is changing, for the worse and I feel it is my place and possibly purpose to help oppose this. But yet a roadblock stands in my way. My calling to the ministry. Is there a way to merge the two? Can I serve my cake and eat it too? Will my past become a factor. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months and the months into years I feel as if the opportunity to enter the wonderful exciting world of politics is rapidly passing me by and leaving me behind in the dust. If this is not what I am destined for I wish for nothing more than the sheer desire to be stripped away from me so that I may continue on the path that I am on now. And if this is in my future I pray that it will become so vitally evident that all men including myself will be able to see this is where I am heading.
I miss those steps. I miss climbing the steps of the capitol. I miss the feel of the marble and the untold history that has strolled on it. I miss walking the halls and people knowing who I was because of who I worked for. I miss walking the halls of the White House and seeing the famous political figures of our time. I miss the motorcades and the power that a 19 year old boy held by a mere penstroke. Where now do I go. From here where can I go.

Intro

Life sometimes seems so complicated and mundane. Filled with the complicated details and the unending questions that seem to overtake our lifes and our mindsets. Yet we are always passing off great opportunities for pointless debacles that tend to set us back beyond our expectations and where we think we are unable to return from. We allow ourselves to toe the line of the limits of life. I know for a fact that living your life toeing that line will be exciting at first but will in the end leave you lonely and feeling worthless. This is what this story is all about. Living life to the edge with no remorse and no feeling of danger or risk. This is the journal of man lost, lost in this fight to overcome the seemingly impossible odds of defeating a deep rooted addiction. In here lies the raw, open, uncensored thoughts of a mans soul caught up in this fight. May Gods will be done….