Don't let your luggage define your travels, each life unravels differently.

Someone once told me that the finer points of devotion are about the size of a pinhole, and there are millions of them. And if you could connect each dot, then you’ve got a diagram of what you think you thought you knew, and if you’re willing to admit that you know nothing…you have the blueprint for a breakthrough.

You see, the deaf have an intimacy with silence. It’s there in their dreams.

Remember how we forgot?Once upon a time, we were youngOur dreams hung like applesWaiting to be picked and peeledAnd hope was something needing to be reeled-inSo we can fill the always empty big fish bin with the one that got awayAnd proudly say that "this time, impossible is not an option"Because success is so akin to effort and opportunity they could be relatedSo we took chancesWe figure skated on thin iceBelieved that each slice of life was served with something sweet on the sideAnd failure was never nearly as important as the fact that we triedThat in the war against frailty and limitationWe supplied the determination it takes to make ideas and goals the parents of PossibilityAnd we believe ourselves to be members of this familyNot just one branch on one treeBut a forest whose roots make up a dynasty

Don't tell me you're not beautiful. You're the kind of beautiful the blind would see if we could figure out some way to give them three seconds of sight.

She tells me about dreams. She says my dreams are helium and balloons, and I've made the mistake of letting go a few to many times, but I still got this one. Tied around my finger like a wedding ring because even though I don't believe in marriages, I'm gonna bring this one home.

Try. The tiniest dream that you try to make happen, is worth more than the biggest dream you never attempt.

And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit.

If your heart is broken, make art with the pi

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them.

I you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer, stare a little longer. Because there is something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, you signed it THEY WERE WRONG.

There’s 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we take has to be given back; a nine year old boy taught me that.

getting over it/ just means getting around it/ and sometimes/ you gotta go through it/ leave it torn and blasted apart

It’s not magic. I remember because I make comparisons. Not in terms of better or worse, just different. And not all of these memories are great, but they’re mine.Which lends way to believe, that none of our lives are put together on an assembly line. We’re not pre-packaged with memories or programmed with stories. We have to make our own.

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones. As if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us. That we’d be lonely forever. That we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone.

And what I said was I’ll miss you, What I meant to say was that I love you, What I wanted to say was that I meant what I said I miss you like I miss my own bedafter too many nights of sleeping on couchesor hardwood floors Or sitting silently behind the doors Of hotel rooms became wounds Breathing life in to this loneliness I miss youLike a burn victim must miss their own skinI miss you like a sad ending Must miss someplace new to beginBecause some say that the highway becomes a flat line if you travel it for too longI can’t tell if that’s true or false, But I’m racing down it towards you trying to find myPulse.

We were hereAnd our memories are as dear to us as every slow motion moment or held breathSo remember every instance before deathEvery first kiss, first dance, near miss, last chance, yes, no, maybe soLet us go the distance once moreLet us remember all the moments that were and were notLike the point is something we can get and what we can get is what we gotBecause all we have are the times between the moments we connect each dotSo live and rememberBurn like an ember capable of starting firesLike each moment inspires the nextLike memories are the context we put ourselves inSo that life becomes the next of kin we need to notify in case of a big bang or Extinction level eventLet now be our adventLet us live like we meant itLet us burn like we mean itBecause this world doesn't give a shit if we end in a train wreck or a car crashIf our story ends with a dot or dashIf we were dust or ashBecause all we were is all we’ll beAnd all we are is the in-between of so far, so goodSo forget every would, could, or should notForget remembering how we forgotLive like a plot twist exists now and in memoryBecause we burn brightOur light leaves scars on the sunLet no one say we will be undone by time's passingThe memories we are amassing will stand as testamentThat somehow we bent minds around the conceptThat we see others within ourselvesThat self-knowledge can't be found on bookshelvesSo who we are has no bearing on how we appearLook directly into every mirrorRealize our reflection is the first sentence to a storyAnd our story starts:"We were here."

Be savagely thankful, and continuously in awe of the power you possess. You are alive. Inside of an endless cosmos with the freedom that shines brightest in the dark.. Choices. Your choices belong to you so intimately, that they will never leave you. They, unlike the changing nature of love, where the failing machinery of our bodies will never abandon you to time. Good or bad, they will stay always. An antique that shows the future who you were and what you stood for. So know that what you choose to stand for, is what will inform you of what you've chosen to stand against, so stand. Let each foot crash land into what you believe, and plant them they're firmly so they may take root in your convictions. And stand.

I can't stop.