The Wait Is Over

Even in a world where fraud, force, and coercion place lives in jeopardy every day, there are still ideals in which I firmly believe – compassion, integrity, peace. What we believe is proven by what we do, and I believe the best way to memorialize those who died for the freedoms we hold dear is by a coordinated effort to feed, house, and educate all children everywhere so that humanity might someday realize the dream for which so many have sacrificed their lives.

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For those who have sent words of encouragement, you’ll be pleased to know that I start my new job in a few days. I couldn’t be happier. It was worth the wait. The future is now.

Coming Out Of A Summertime Coma

On the surface everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, but down in the fiery depths a breathless fight, a fierce battle raged. Hope reached into the abyss and wrapped around the twisted wreckage, into the chaos of a fitful sleep. In one final surge to make sense of the senselessto possess the dispossessed, a heart begins to beat with the rhythm of a thousand drums, love flows to extinguish the flames. A breath of fresh air rushes in, we are awake.

Because there is no industry built around peace, it seems unlikely that humanity will ever fully experience it, like we experience disease or war. Both of which have elaborate infrastructure and built-in economies. So, while death is inevitable, greed for everything life has to offer, and control of it by any means necessary, may be the destiny of mankind. And then again, maybe not.  We’re not dead yet.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. — Dylan Thomas

Whether you call them doldrums or dog days, another season of them is almost over. There’s something in the air today and if that isn’t enough to keep you going…Take heart! There are slackers on both sides!!

“What I need from you is evildoing. Not eviltrying!”
Illustration credit Harvard Business Review