The head of a company survived 9/11 because
His son started kindergarten.
Another fellow was alive because it was
His turn to bring donuts.
One woman was late because her
Alarm clock didn’t go off in time.
One was late because of being stuck on the NJ Turnpike
Because of an auto accident.
One of them
Missed his bus.
One spilled food on her clothes and had to take
Time to change.
Car wouldn’t start.
Get a taxi.
The one that struck me was the man
Who put on a new pair of shoes that morning,
Took the various means to get to work but before.
He got there, he developed a blister on his foot.
He stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid.
That is why he is alive today..
Now when I am
Stuck in traffic,
Miss an elevator,
Turn back to answer a ringing telephone…
All the little things that annoy me,
I think to myself,
This is exactly where
I’m meant to be
At this very moment
Existing vs Living
In my line of work, it’s easy to lose track of what drew you to this profession in the first place. The day to day of listening to stories can blur into one long recording with your life just being something that happens on the side. When you do this full time, it’s easy to forgot you’re in the business of helping people. You dissect your days into how many sessions you need to execute instead of how many lives you can impact. I think all coaches and therapists start with their dial on impact, then somewhere along the way it slowly gets turned to execute.
Today I went to church. I haven’t gone in a very long time. The pastor talked about existing vs living. It was a great reminder, one I really needed to hear as of late. It’s very easy for me to exist. I have no problem following a schedule. But living is difficult. It’s been that way for most of my life. What’s the difference? Living requires attention, breath, and enthusiasm. To live means to engage, to soak up instead of match. To not label but to accept, people, circumstances, where you’re at in your life. And to do it with a fucking smile. A genuine one. Not one with a middle finger. Because you are grateful for life. For the breezes, the sun, soup, and how good friends can make you feel. For how far you’ve come.
Being a part of other people’s stories is a privilege. Not a profession. If you see it as a profession, you will exist in it. If you see it as a gift, you will live in it and undoubtedly make a greater impact.
Ask yourself if you are existing or living. Do you know the difference? What would it look like to live?
Maybe it’s time for a rebirth.
why is “fuck you” an insult like hell yea fuck me fuck me hard
"Everyone you idolize wakes up scared to be themselves sometimes."
"The only people who ever get anyplace interesting are the people who get lost."
Do not teach your daughters to be ‘pretty.’
Do not entomb her in a pretty pink tower
and insist that only the degree of her physical appeal
may set her free.
Teach her to fight her way out,
to consume books and spit knowledge
to lesser boys who insist she is just beautiful
and nothing more.
Teach her to love her body
not to manipulate and put a price tag on herself
as a defined worth
she shall be immeasurable
she shall be more than this.
Do not let her break herself down
when the boy in kindergarden hits her
because he likes her.
What are you really teaching her?
Pain and love are not synonymous
neither are pretty and perfection.
Teach her to be kind
to be harsh
to be demure
to be wild
to be sensitive
to be thick-skinned
But good god,
Do not teach your daughters to be ‘pretty.’"