Unless dreams are carried from the whimsy of imagination to demands of reality, they will die in the catacombs of ‘what could be.

Imagination envisions what could be. Reality states what is. And when my journey is shaped by one of these at the exclusion of the other, I will eventually wake up on some road facing the ‘reality’ that I’m far more lost than I could have ‘imagined’.

Most of our fears are borrowed. Since that’s the case, we should get busy returning them.

I must not imagine what is ‘not’ as a means of escaping what ‘is’. Rather, I must understand what ‘is’ and imagine how I can make it what it is ‘not’.

Sooner or later I will be faced with the fact that the world is helpless to meet my needs. And at that point, I will be left with two conclusions; that life is cruel or God is real.

If I see God as nothing more than a caricature of history or imagination I cannot do anything less than make myself my own ‘god’. And once I realize that in doing so my rendition of being a ‘god’ is embarrassingly inferior to the very caricature I am mimicking, I quickly come to realize that maybe the only thing that can be ‘god’ is a God. And if that is the case, I suddenly find myself hounded by the stunning reality that God is not a caricature.

Reality often holds the facts that we desperately wish to avoid, but at the same time it holds the ingredients of the dreams that we hope to achieve.

To run from reality is to avoid the very thing that our dreams are made of.

Rewriting the narrative so as to make my life what I want it to be is the stuff of fiction penned by the hands of fools who have yet to realize that truth writes stories bigger than any eraser fiction can conjure up.