Spencer
Fool Me Twice – Mac and the Officer
Mac smiled at me. “We’re home free now, buddy!”
But he spoke too soon.
“Oh, fuck!”
“Shit, what is it?” Mac said, voice cracking.
As he turned the corner to the front of the building, a cop car was slowly pulling up to the front gate, blocking us in.
“Oh, shit.”
“Just chill out,” I said. “He’s already seen us. Just take ten deep breaths, and play it cool.”
He began panting. “It’s not working, Paddy! I’m getting dizzy.”
“Mac, look at me!”
When he turned to face me, I slapped him. Not hard, mind you.
He put his hand to his cheek. “What the fuck?”
“Dude,” I said, “you’ve gotta get a hold of yourself. Just get out there and do what you do!”
“What do you mean what I do? What the fuck do I do?”
“C’mon, Mac! You oughta know by know. You’re the king of bullshit!”
“I am?”
“Hell yeah! Remember that cop in Galveston? Instead of throwing us in jail, he invited us to go fishing! Snap to it, buddy!”
A steely glint began to shine in his eyes as he pushed his chest out and clenched his jaw. I was on the right track.
“And remember those chicks in that restaurant? You had those girls eating from your hand! That was you!”
“Yeah!” he said. “I did do that, didn’t I?”
“Hell yeah, you did! Now listen to me. You’re Stuart Heywood’s little brother and business partner. You own this fucking place. You hear me? Get your ass out there and tell him we’ve got shit to do. But he’s in our way. Tell him you’re a busy man and you don’t have time for his bullshit. You’re Jerry Heywood! Understand?”
He gripped the steering wheel, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’re damn right! I am a busy man!” He bobbed his head up and down. “That’s right, motherfucker! Nobody fucks with…” He turned to me. “What’d you say my name was?”
“Heywood, Jerry Heywood.”
He put the truck in gear and pulled up to the gate. Then he got out to meet the officer, who was already standing next to the fence.
“Afternoon, Officer.”
Without acknowledging Mac’s greeting, the cop said, “Where’s Stu?”
Mac’s eyes glazed over. “Who?”
I buried my face in my hands, C’mon, Mac. You idiot!
“Oh! You mean Stuart? My brother? You just missed him.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. But the cop continued to eye Mac warily.
“And who might you be?”
“Name’s Larr-I mean, Jerry. I’m Stuart’s little brother. And his business partner too.”
The cop took off his mirrored sunglasses to get a clearer look at Mac. After a few seconds, he said, “Ol’ Stu and I go way back. Don’t ever recall him mentioning a brother. Or business partner neither.”
Mac chuckled nervously. “Well, I’m his half brother, actually, you know… from another mother.”
I shook my head.
“This your truck?”
“What, this truck?”
The cop just stared at Mac. C’mon, Mac, say something, you idiot.
“Um, actually no. We were just going to pick up some food. But Junior’s inside, if you need to speak to him.”
I threw my hands in the air, certain that Mac had just blown it.
“Yeah,” the cop said, “as a matter of fact, I do.”
That was it, I thought. It’s all over now.
I wondered exactly how Mac planned to get himself out of this.
“Well, is it important, Officer? He’s actually kinda busy right now.”
“I left my truck here last week,” he replied. “I kind of need to know if it’ll be ready on Monday like he said it would.”
“Sure thing, Officer. I’ll be right back.”
As he turned to go inside, Mac gave me a desperate look. The evil eye I shot him in return probably scared him worse than the cop did. I almost volunteered to go get Junior myself. That way, I could duck out through a window and be two blocks away before anyone even noticed I was missing. But there was no way I’d ever desert Mac like that. And so I waited.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Until I finally began to wonder if maybe Mac hadn’t deserted me. But finally, the door opened, and out popped Mac with a new spring in his step. Though there was no sign of Junior, Mac had a confidence that was missing before.
“Sorry for the delay, Officer Perkins. I took the liberty of checking the computer. Yours is the Chevy S-1O, am I right?” Mac’s demeanor seemed to put the cop at ease.
“That’s the one.”
“Great! Your truck will be ready Monday, like Stu said. And by the way, Junior’s napping. He told me to handle it.”
The cop nodded. “That’s great. I’ll see you Monday, then.”
I was so proud of Mac. He’d handled it beautifully. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to leave well enough alone. His mouth always seemed to have a mind of its own.
“Yeah,” he said, “we would’ve had it ready sooner, but we had to order a spare part.”
The cop scrunched up his face, confused. “A spare part? What kind of part?”
Mac tugged at his ear. “Uh… it was a uh… a flux capacitor, I think.”
The cop nodded his head, but then did a double take. “A what?”
Shit, Mac. Why would you say something stupid like that?
“A flux capacitor,” he repeated. “Where have I heard that before?” the cop asked.
And without missing a beat, Mac said, “They um… they equalize the transometer diffusion.”
I could almost hear the cell bars clanging shut.
Suddenly, the officer appeared to get angry. “Look, I told him all I wanted was a damn paint job. We had this same problem last time!” After huffing and puffing for several seconds, he said, “I need to see Stu Senior, right now!”
“You don’t understand,” Mac said, “the flux capacitor was for our paint sprayer. That’s what keeps the bubbles out of the paint when you spray it.”
The cop had a dull expression on his face that told me he was as ignorant about cars as I was.
“I see,” he said, meekly. Mac had done it again.
Putting his hand on the officer’s back, he said, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Officer. I haven’t eaten all day.”
With a disoriented look, the cop got in his car and backed out of the drive.
I turned to Mac, holding my chest, “I swear, Mac! One of these days you’re gonna put me in an early grave.”
He wiped a dab of sweat from his forehead. “That was close, wasn’t it, buddy?”
Peace On Earth
Imagine today is your last day on Earth.
You have twenty-four hours to live.
Twenty-four hours in which to prepare for your final journey. That journey from which no traveler ever returns. What will you do? How will you spend that final day?
If you”re like most people, your primary concern will be to die in peace. At peace with yourself, and at peace with your
Creator. To accomplish this task, maybe you’ll want to make some small gesture, bestow some gift, or perform some random act of grace or mercy in order to leave the world a better place than when you found it.
I once had a friend who declared that if allowed, he could at last bring about peace in the middle-east. Then I reminded him of his decades-long estrangement from his brother over a real-estate deal gone south. The amount of money in dispute over the deal was less than a thousand dollars.
Maybe twenty-four hours isn’t enough time to bring about world peace, or to otherwise change the world. But it’s plenty of time to change your world. Is there someone you need to reconcile with? Someone you need to forgive? A debt owed, but never paid, perhaps? Maybe you’re estranged from an old friend or family member and can’t even remember why.
The Bible says don’t let the sun go down on your anger.
So if there’s someone you need to reconcile with, someone you need to forgive, or obtain forgiveness from, then go and do it. Today. Do not wait a moment longer.
For to heal a broken relationship is to heal your very soul.
To bind up old wounds that even years later still divide, to reestablish a broken relationship that was once tender and loving, is one of the kindest things we can do for ourselves. One of the greatest words in the English language (or any other language, for that matter) is forgiveness.
For-give.
To give for.
But to give for what? That’s the question.
I’d venture a guess – to give for peace. Peace of mind. And peace of heart. For no one who harbors ill will in their hearts can be at peace.
It is true forgiveness requires great love, courage, and humility. Then there’s no guarantee the person you seek to reconcile with will either grant you forgiveness or accept your forgiveness. But surely the payoff in peace you’ll receive in return will make it worth the effort. And while most of us assume we have plenty of time left in our lives in which to accomplish such tasks, tomorrow is never guaranteed.
Let us not, therefore, continue to put off until tomorrow, a small act of grace that would make the world – your world – a better place today.
For those of us aspiring to change the world, there’s no better place to start than our own little corner of it.
Spencer Lane Adams
—
01/2022
Fool Me Twice – Moral Crusader
Lopez smiled. “Perhaps. We’ll look into it. But in the meantime, please don’t do anything to antagonize the guy. Men like that—you’ve gotta be careful. They can be dangerous.”
“What do you mean, men like that?”
My boss leaned over his desk, eyes narrowing. “Well, like, this morning, for example. One minute he’s quoting Bible verses, and the next minute he’s hitting on my secretary.”
My eyes widened. “Tamera?”
He nodded. Then he told me something that was to stay with me over the coming months. “I’ve seen his type before,” he said. “Usually, they’re hiding something. When you see a moral crusader like that, a lot of times, underneath all that Bible-thumping exterior, you’ll find a rotten core. Sometimes, self-righteousness is just a smokescreen.”
“A smokescreen?”
“Yeah. You know, like to divert attention away from themselves. Like they’re hiding a defect or fault they don’t want you to see. What better way to hide it than to project it onto someone else.”
I nodded. “He could even be a serial killer, huh?”
Lopez chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. More than likely, he’s just your garden-variety hypocrite. The only time people like that are dangerous is when they’ve got a little authority.”
I winced. “Jeez, Mr Lopez, that’s not very comforting.”
I sat back and let his words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t personal after all between Beasley and I. Perhaps he was just projecting his own weaknesses onto me. Then again, who the fuck cared? Why even waste my time trying to psychoanalyze the guy? The important thing was to get out from underneath the thumb of this petty tyrant before it was too late.
Something told me my time was running out.
Fool Me Twice – Responsibility
Once the boy was out of hearing range, the woman’s whole demeanor changed. As she sat back down at the table, she abruptly went from cheerful to solemn as she revealed to us why she’d sent the boy outside.
“I just wanted to thank you gentlemen for taking an interest in my boy. I mean, my grandson. To me he’s just like my boy. I love him like my own son.”
As she spoke, she twisted her apron around, obviously distressed at something. I suddenly felt guilty for the real reason I’d taken an interest in her grandson.
“Please don’t take this wrong,” she said, “but that boy needs some guidance. In a bad way! All he does these days is swagger around with his headphones blaring that …garbage! That skip-hop, bip-bop, whatever the hell it’s called. All they sing about—if you call that singing—it’s bitches this or hoe’s that. He’s got to have his cap on sideways, his pants half-way down his ass!”
Mac and I exchanged glances, both stifling a laugh.
She went on. “I’m telling you, that boy’s headed for disaster!”
For a minute, I thought she might cry. But she held her composure and leaned forward. “He used to be such a good boy! If you could have only seen him.”
Then, looking down at the floor, she said, “I’ve already lost one son. I just couldn’t bear to lose another one. I don’t know what I would do. I try! I really do! But I don’t know if it’s me, if there’s something I’m doing wrong, I just… maybe he needs a man, a father-figure to show him…” She looked at us, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.
Mac and I reached out for her hand.
“Look,” I said, “I’m sure none of this is as bad as it seems. That boy’s gonna turn out just fine. Mark my words. I’ve been where he is myself, Agnes. Matter of fact, all boys go through sort of a… phase. But listen, me and Mac are gonna do everything in our power to make sure that boy’s pointed in the right direction. You have our word on it. I promise.”
Finally, she let go of her apron, which was now twisted around her hand. “Remind me again, just in case I need to give the boy a ride over there? Where’s this chess club located?”
“Um…” I looked to Mac for help. He was looking at a bottle of Worcestershire Sauce sitting on the table.
“Ma’am,” he said, “it’s over on Westchester Street.”
She gave him a blank look. “Westchester Street? Where’s that?”
“Don’t you worry,” I said, “we’ve already got his rides taken care of in advance. If he needs you, he’ll let you know.”
She smiled sadly. “Thank you again, so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you both. I’m just thankful he’s finally got something constructive to do with his time. I’ve been so worried about those friends of his he’s been keeping. A couple of weeks ago I thought I smelled cigarettes on his clothes.”
Mac casually pushed his pack of Marlboros deeper into his shirt pocket.
“We’ll do everything we can, Agnes.”
Spanky returned with the tomatoes.
“Did you get the best ones?” Agnes asked.
Spanky gave her a dutiful nod. “Of course, I did Grandma.”
While the two of them did the dishes, Mac and I were relegated to the back porch, each with a cup of coffee, to relax and watch the sunset. Before stepping outside, I’d asked Spanky to dig around and see what he could find out concerning the truck.
Ten minutes later, he stepped outside onto the porch.
“What’d ya find out?” I asked.
He handed me a small piece of paper. “This guy named Stuart Heywood bought it. Grandpa used to take the truck there for repairs, but mainly it’s a body shop and refurbishing place. They buy and rebuild old cars and fix em up and resell em at auction. That’s their address and phone number there.”
I looked up at the boy. “See there?”
“What?”
“You really are CIA!”
Spanky blushed. “I am?”
“That’s good work, kid!” Mac said.
“Good work, but bad news,” I said. “What if that guy decides to start working on that truck tomorrow?”
Mac looked at the boy. “What kind of shape was the interior in?”
Spanky frowned. ‘“Bout what you’d expect from a fifty-year-old truck, I suppose. Lots of rips and tears.”
“Just chill out, Paddy. We’ll head over there first thing in the morning,” Mac said.
I agreed.
Then, for some strange reason, I turned to Spanky. “Hey, kid. How bout you and me go to the park on Saturday? I’ll show you how to play chess in case your grandmother asks you about it sometime. We can stop and get a burger on the way—make a picnic out of it.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt sorry for the boy or instead just wanted to perform a good deed so I could pat myself on the back. I had my own chance at fatherhood years before. But sadly, I’d blown it. And since I’d long ago forfeited my one and only chance, a part of me inside knew it, and understood—it was too late.
I’d missed out on something vital, something essential in life. But whatever my reasons for helping the kid, the fact is, I ended up helping myself more than I helped him.
Later, as Mac and I were getting in the car, Spanky’s front door flew open, and Agnes came tearing down the sidewalk like the house was on fire.
When I saw what was in her hand, I shot Mac a dirty look. “You big dummy! You forgot the tomatoes!”
With Brandy at her side—tail wagging—Agnes gave me the sack. When she handed me the bag I almost dropped it.
“Good Lord, Agnes! You put bricks in here?”
Her rosy cheeks blushed. “Oh, now, stop it! I just thought you two might like a few cucumbers and squash to go with your tomatoes.”
I gave her a warm handshake. “I’m sure Lisa will love them. Thank you so much, Agnes.”
From the corner of my eye I could see Mac’s lower lip protruding.
“Don’t forget about me!” he whined. “Don’t I get half?”
Winking at Agnes, I said, “We’ll see, Mac. Depends on your behavior.”
When he made a boo-boo face, everyone laughed, including Mac. We said our goodbyes and were off. As we drove away, Spanky and his grandmother stood in the driveway waving until we were out of sight.
I gave a wistful sigh and turned to Mac. “It’s crazy how much that woman reminds me of my own grandmother.”
“Really?” Mac said. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Then he turned and looked me in the eye. “Did you mean what you said back there?”
“About what?”
“About looking after the boy?”
“Absolutely!”
Of course, at the time I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But as time went on, I began to understand that something inside of me changed that day.
I knew I still had a long way to go, but that was the day that marked a turning point in the education of Paddy Evers. After all those years, I was finally going to learn the meaning of the word, responsibility.
Fool Me Twice – Galveston
Luckily, we soon came to a series of bridges, and then spent the next ten minutes driving over and around water. Several estuaries near the Houston ship channel all drained into the Gulf of Mexico, and all that water soon began to work its magic on our frayed nerves.
I’d waited a long time to make it back to the coast, and I could feel the water welcoming me back like a long-lost friend.
Mac noticed the wistful expression on my face.
“What is it, Buddy?”
“The water,” I answered. “It’s always had this effect on me. Even a little pond or lake calms me down. I guess it’s true what they say about us living in the ocean for billions of years before we ditched our gills for lungs.
Mac lit a cigarette as we crossed the next causeway, the main bridge connecting Galveston with the mainland. The sun glinted off the water as I watched the people fishing and crabbing in groups along the rocky shoreline in the distance.
As I breathed in the salty air, a flood of ancient memories and emotions overwhelmed me. Suddenly, I was a kid again. I couldn’t wait for that moment when we’d cross the final rise and the land would give way to that boundless expanse of blue that made up the Gulf of Mexico.
All those childhood trips to the beach came back to me in a torrent of nostalgia. Back then, the magic of all that open water used to fill my young and impressionable imagination with the endless possibilities of life’s adventures. Of course, the water at Galveston’s beaches wasn’t quite as clear and blue as say, in Florida. Nor was the sand as white.
Yet, the island of Galveston had its own quaint and captivating charms, and I’d been in love with the place for as long as I could remember.
Mac and I were in the process of finishing our last beers, and halfway through singing Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall, when suddenly—five minutes from our destination—a loud and piercing siren rudely interrupted the festivities.
Fool Me Twice – In the Hole
In the blink of an eye I pulled out my pistol and fired a shot just inches from him, causing him to jump back in surprise. “Please, Paddy! Don’t! Holy shit, I’ll…”
I fired another round into the dirt in front of him, “Get your ass back in that hole!”
He started to stand. But when I fired another shot, he quickly complied with my order, but stopped just short of climbing all the way into the grave with Louie.
“Paddy, don’t do, this!”
“I said, get… back… in the hole, now!”
My words had their intended effect, and he slowly eased back into the ground.
I absolutely hated what I was about to do. Indeed, it was completely out of character for me. But frankly, he’d left me no other choice.
When you’ve had the rug pulled from under you as much as I had, sooner or later something had to give.
In the blink of an eye I pulled out my pistol and fired a shot just inches from him, causing him to jump back in surprise. “Please, Paddy! Don’t! Holy shit, I’ll…”
I fired another round into the dirt in front of him, “Get your ass back in that hole!”
He started to stand. But when I fired another shot, he quickly complied with my order, but stopped just short of climbing all the way into the grave with Louie.
“Paddy, don’t do, this!”
“I said, get… back… in the hole, now!”
My words had their intended effect, and he slowly eased back into the ground.
I absolutely hated what I was about to do. Indeed, it was completely out of character for me. But frankly, he’d left me no other choice.
When you’ve had the rug pulled from under you as much as I had, sooner or later something had to give.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You probably think I’m one of those nut cases who get their jollies out of making other people suffer. They’re called sociopaths, or psychopaths. And although I’ve met plenty of them in prison, I’m not one of them.
Never have been.
Psychopaths will freely admit to enjoying nothing more than torturing cute, furry little animals just for shits and giggles.
But me?
I have a heart.
I just wanted to be sure Mac was telling me the truth.
That he wasn’t playing me for a fool again.
As he got down on his knees, I slowly eased the hammer back on my pistol.
“All right, Mac. This is your final chance.” I pointed the gun at his face. “Where is my money?”
With trembling hands, he wiped the dirt and sweat from his eyes, pleading with me to change my mind.
“Paddy, look, I don’t know where it is. But I swear it! We’ll find out! If we can just—”
“No, Mac” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. There’s no more we. It’s just me now. You’re through.”
“Think about what your about to do, Paddy.”
I tightened my grip on the trigger, “I already have, Mac. Believe me. I already have.”
And as my finger closed around the trigger, Mac cringed and closed his eyes.
I pulled the trigger.
And before the shot even finished echoing through the surrounding woods, a small trickle of blood began coursing a path down Mac’s dirt-smeared face.
Letting Go of the Past
As we walk along the path of life, steadfast in courage, strong in will, each and every mile we travel takes us further away from the pain of our past. But make no mistake. To get past the mountain of adversity, you must climb it—one foot in front of the other, and if necessary, one day before the next.
Yet every moment we linger, looking back in sorrow for what might have been or what could have been, is one more precious moment lost to the darkness. For just as time marches ever forward, so too must we live our lives—heart, mind, and soul—focused always on the future, on that glorious destination awaiting us all, if we do not falter and we do not fail. And by glorious I speak not of world-conquering generals, Super Bowl-winning quarterbacks, or preening rockstars basking in an illusory light of fame. Rather, I speak of the glory of the everyday man or woman, the commoners who, coming to the end of their journey, are able to die well, because they have lived well.
And though your eyes be ever on the destination, do not blind yourself to this day’s journey. Because it is our journey after all, which makes the destination so sweet. Each and every day of our journey, if we but open our eyes, we shall find a lesson. A lesson to treasure and to hold deep within our hearts, to help us along the way.
Some of these lessons may be pleasant. But more often than not, the best ones will be painful. Do not turn away. Know that with the pain will come sorrow. Touch it, feel it, embrace it if you must. But above all, learn from it. Then move on, just as life moves on.
And should a day come when you find yourself trapped in the pain, unable to learn the lessons that it’s trying to teach you, know this: That it is you and only you, who clings to it. Like an old friend you cannot bear to part with, you carry it upon your shoulders from one day to the next, weary and worn from the effort.
Leave it!
Lay it down!
Let go of it!
For if today you let go of the past—really let it go—then tomorrow you shall find that your pain is diminished. Then a week, or month, or year from now you will be that much further from it. But if and only if, you lay it down today.
And if you stay strong, if you persist and persevere, then one day you shall look back and thank God almighty for giving you the gift of your struggle. Because it is only when we struggle the most that we grow strongest. To our surprise, we shall find that in our weakness, we were made stronger. And in our foolishness, we were made wiser. For it is only when we ourselves have experienced weakness and foolishness—those all-too-human failings that we all partake of—that we are able to learn compassion and forgiveness for the weakness and foolishness in others.
For without forgiveness, there can be no love. And without love, there can be no forgiveness. Therefore, let the past be past, and remember this: It is love that endures. Even if man does not, our love endures. For though our lives are but a twinkling in the vastness of eternity, our love goes on forever.
Spencer Lane Adams
—
8/13/2018
Enough is Enough
Sit down, my son — please lend me your ear.
Lately, you’ve taken a wrong turn, I fear,
But I won’t criticize you or take you to task,
I only have one simple question to ask.
Have you had enough nightlife and glamour and thrills?
Have you had enough problems with paying your bills?
Have you had enough cocaine and whiskey and pills?
Have you had enough puking and headaches and chills?
Have you hurt enough loved ones — thrown away enough years?
Have you killed enough brain cells — or cried enough tears?
Have you had enough suffering or lost enough friends?
Have you felt enough pain now — is this where it ends?
Or would you like to keep smashing your head thru the wall?
Do you like it in prison — are you having a ball?
How ‘bout some cirrhosis, hepatitis, or AIDS?
A bloody old needle? Now, don’t be afraid!
Have you had enough black-outs and car wrecks and jail?
Have you had enough courtrooms and lawyers and bail?
I know what you’re thinking: “Dad, leave me alone!”
“I’m not a kid anymore — can’t you see that I’m grown?”
Well, forgive me, my son, if my love is too tough.
I just thought you should know that,
“Enough is enough!”
Spencer Lane Adams
—
05/29/2020
Thus Spoke the Lord
Do you love me, Father?
“I love you, my son.”
Then grant me my will.
“Free will, I give to thee.”
Thus spoke the Lord.
And it’s mine to use as I please?
“Why no,” replied my Father,
“Reproof, I will also give to thee.”
Reproof? I asked my Father,
Please explain that word to me,
“It’s a rod to guide your ways, my son,
“That you’ll more clearly see.”
A rod? I asked my father,
You’ve confused me once again.
“It is a punishment to lead you,
“Back to me again.”
Thus spoke the Lord.
Yet how shall I discern this rod?
Asked I unto the Lord.
“It is a pain that you shall feel,
but yet, in time, a pain that heals.”
Thus spoke the Lord.
Yet time and time again, I felt that pain
I heard His voice. And yet I took no heed,
Because I thought it was my choice.
“Listen closely,” said my Father,
As I now bowed down in sorrow.
“It is not pain I wish to give,
“But yet a lesson for tomorrow,
That you might yet still learn to live.”
“For when I granted you free will,
I did not wish for it to be,
That you would walk in darkness, son,
Or stray so far from me.
For I gave you will to freely choose,
And thus be truly free,
To choose what’s right, and shun the wrong,
And turn your heart to me.
Thus spoke the Lord.
My Lord spoke it unto me.
Spencer Lane Adams
A State of Mind
Whenever we get offended by a character flaw in another person, it usually means we ourselves have a similar problem. And if we can so easily excuse ourselves, why not then excuse another?
Getting angry at humans for being human is akin to getting angry at a river for flowing downhill. It is in the nature of humans to have flaws.
To get upset or resent such things is a waste of precious time.
And we have so little of that already. Would a little character flaw in another person distress you so much if you had a terminal disease?
Whether you realize it or not, we’re all suffering from the terminal disease of life.
No matter how young or old we are, we are all already in the process of dying.
So why distress yourself over that which you cannot control or be held responsible for?
Remember always, if a person or thing is distressing you, it is not the person, it is not the thing, that is distressing you. Can a person climb inside your head and make you feel bad or upset?
Rather, it is your judgement about the person or thing that is distressing you.
And right this minute, if you so choose, you can decide that whoever or whatever is bothering you isn’t so bad after all.
My father used to yell at me to turn down my loud rock music. “You’re killing me with that horrible crap!” he would claim.
But if loud rock music really was “horrible crap”, no one would ever purchase the music, or go to rock concerts. It was my father’s judgement about the music that was distressing him.
Let us never stop reminding ourselves – it’s up to me in this very moment whether or not I am happy, sad, or disturbed.
What I choose to focus on, and how I judge it, determines my state of mind.