The definition of living is not based on the number of years spent, but on the degree to which we’ve spent ourselves in the living of them.

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’.

A compass calibrated by my greed is a rather shrewd way to legitimize my agenda. However, true north on a compass such as this is a straight line to the edge of a really big cliff.

Too often, opinion is a lens polished by the grit of bias. And as I stare through my own lens, I might ask how much polish can the grit of bias actually create?

Sometimes answering the question of where we’re at in life is best approached by asking where we’re not, because there’s a good chance that that’s where we had original intended to be.

Start thinking for yourself, because if you don’t someone else will.

For the thinking person it’s not how many words you use, but how few you use, up to and including using none.

It’s not that I’ve been invited to the hole I’m standing in. It’s that I accepted the invitation.

So, there’s this hornet’s nest. And there’s this long stick. And then there’s me. How I walk away from all of this will depend on whether I realize that some things go together and some things don’t no matter how hard you try.