It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly; who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst,
if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

 

L

Somewhere In Texas

“Something is about to happen. Something very wonderful.”

This post was composed under the magical influence of Dreamboat Annie by Heart

 

 

A heartbeat that never goes away. It stays in your thoughts your entire life. It drives you. It consumes your thoughts. It overpowers your emotions. It’s the voice that has no voice. It speaks in a language unknown to most. Unexplainable. Undefinable. Unmeasurable. Limitless. It knows no bounds. It is not constricted by time nor thought. It knows nothing of failure. Distance means nothing to it. It has been by your side since the day you were born yet most have never met it. It patiently waits. For to it, time has no meaning. Whether it takes 10 years or eons it matters not. It is already home. It knows you are separated and wants to help. But until you want it as bad as you would want air if held underwater it will not come home.

Today I stumbled across an old notebook of mine from 2014. In it I wrote some thoughts I had that summer oh so very long ago when the seed was still growing.

June 5th 2014

Have you ever had a burning dream locked away inside your soul, burning so bright and so deep all day and all night long it rips your very essence apart knowing it has not come true. A fire inside so strong it overwhelms your soul with its yearning to be free of its constraints, to burn inside you with such intensity that all else pales in comparison, something that cannot be explained, something so far beyond words, beyond feelings, beyond thought, something so deep it yearns for decades to become real, yet has never appeared in the exterior world. It drives you mad with intensity, like gasping for air when held underwater, you see it in its completion in your mind, every day and waking hour of your life, yet not a soul besides yourself knows of it nor could understand why it’s so important. Something so real, more real than the external world, more vivid than anything you could possibly imagine, a dream that refuses to die.

The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people.

How bad do you want your dream? Like air if you were held underwater or it’s OK if it never happens? That burning desire inside, that all-consuming desire, that almost unbearable yearning inside you that has no words to describe it, that is what will bring your dreams into this world. That feeling that has no words are your very dreams trying with all their might to reach you.

When you build your house
Then call me home

 

L

Somewhere In Texas

“Something is about to happen. Something very wonderful.”

This post was composed under the magical influence of Sara by Stevie Nicks