Love Yourself..Be Yourself

Why do people enjoy the new film, Frozen, sooo much? It sounds strange, but that petty thought has been nagging at my mind for a few weeks now. Yes, I have seen the movie–and truth be told it did not WOW me like so many others. With Disney movies in view, Frozen would be under other classics such as Lion King and Pirates of the Caribbean.

Then a simple thought popped in my mind: the songs. Whenever I hear about Frozen, I also hear about that (now) famous song: “Let It Go”. After musing for a few more moments..I drew up this question: “Do people like this movie because they have trouble letting go?” Casting social pretense over the shoulder and proudly marching into the world unedited can be a bold do people savor the thought of doing it themselves?

I do.

“Be Yourself”–we have become immune to this statement. Everyone says it!! Movies, posters, salesmen, mothers, fathers… No doubt you have heard this advice from another source.

Then why don’t we “let go” and “be ourselves”? Similar to the film, I believe it is fear. Fear that people won’t like us. Fear that we will hurt those nearest and dearest to us with the truth. Fear that we will feel exposed by “letting go”.

Those fears are real, folks. I feel them everyday.

But do you want to know the key to trumping fear? A good, hearty dose of (dare-I-say) LOVE. (I know one writer in particular who is laughing at me right now… -_- )

Such an easy solution! LOVE yourself. Accept that you are who you are. Stop trying to be someone else..then the world would be short one amazing person. :)

So I challenge you (and myself): First start loving yourself..and watch as it becomes easier to be yourself.


It’s No Problem At All

So you want me to hold your hand,
While mine are broken and bleeding?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to move mountains,
While you refuse to lift a pea?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to squeeze feelings
From this heart you’ve turned to stone?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to save money,
While you spend it like it’s yours?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to understand,
While you never make any sense?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to submit and follow,
While you never take the lead?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to smile and never complain,
While “Grumbling” is your middle name?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to steal the moon and lasso the stars,
While you’re never happy with anything?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to love you,
While you don’t know what that means?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.


If I Were A Ghost

If I were a ghost–free from human interaction–I would be humanity’s shadow. The silent, unseen specter observing the death march of mankind. Sympathetic yet helpless. Frightened yet curious. Loving yet alone. Lusting yet ignored. Friendly yet dismissed. Only a mere thought separating myself from human, yet the thought grows into an unbreachable chasm when confronted by faith. I am the obscured tabby cat following you though life. You know I am there, but you don’t believe.

If I were a ghost–free from society’s bias–I would roam the hallways of both the luxurious and the needy. Every word, spoken or insinuated, would not escape my passive vision. When the rich and comfortable fell asleep, I would hover by their bedside to spectate dreams of stress and fear. When the poor and miserable fell asleep, I would hover over their form to spectate dreams of fantasy and delight. I would watch the birth of a child, the beginning of a business, the construction of a home, the dispute of a marriage, the suicide of a white collar, and the home left empty for spirits like myself to roam. I would follow the child from humble beginnings to mediocre opportunity, from financial scraping to misguided love, from cold relationship to frozen solitary, and finally from blue collar to wit’s end.

If I were a ghost–free from time’s grasp–I would visit the writers of the past. Poets, novelists, essayists, historians, journalists….none would escape my haunting presence. With intangible hands I would grasp their abstract thoughts, admiring the very essence of inspiration. With invisible eyes I would study their human actions, espying the mundane from the bizarre. With cold tongue and mute voice I would recite their unwritten words, mourning over the great works lost to mankind. And with pale lips I would smile as they are laid in a coffin, for joy at knowing them and for sorrow at my futile knowledge.

If I were a ghost–free from peer pressure–I would feign the life of my dreams. Every bell-tower would be my home, for I love the bitter-sweet toll of a bell. Every thanksgiving would be my kitchen, for I love the plenty and harmony of November. Every cove would be my bath, for I love the romantic aura of the ocean. When I fell in a rustic mood the open meadow would be my bed, shared by the dancing daisies and marigolds. For solitude I would escape to the frozen mountain top, or the abyssal ocean floor.  If I longed for company I need look no further than the kindred spirits inside every asylum. When troubled by a romantic fit, every lonely bridge would be my solace. When zealous for adversity I would roam the battlefields of history; and when longing for peace I would watch the children sleep on Christmas Eve.

When I am a ghost–I will watch you read this and smile. Because you took the time to understand another.


A Silent Smile

via Google Images

via Google Images

Briskly walking to my day’s end
Absorbed in my thoughts.
Secure in my coat from the chilling wind.
Head down, I almost didn’t see
The child in my path.
We froze. I waited for her, and she me.
Attempts to walk past all for naught,
She captured my eyes–
And within a moment–my soul and heart.
It was like speech, but with no voice.
Her face framed a smile,
A silent smile, void of pretense or choice.
But a novel could not describe
The heart in this smile.
Such joy, such hope, such innocence and life!
How could I respond? What could I say?
Just a little child..
She wouldn’t translate my thankful essay.
Bored from my trance, she turned aside
With wave and cute eyes.
Then, without pause, I returned her silent smile.

Love is Insane

Why do we feel the need to love another?
Why do we bind our hearts to the lovers stake
Then set it aflame with our own passions?
This heat, this pain, this harrowing remorse that
Haunts and plagues us in the night;
Drenching our sheets with sweat and tears..
All for Love?
Why would we subjugate and crave
The path to a bitter end?
Do we feel this lonely? This afraid?
Do we feel another could help or even save?
We give them our money, our time, our very blood..
And in the name of what? True Love?
Love is the chopping block for those who are insecure.
Love is the noose for those with no confidence.
Love is the firing squad for those who are “lost in love.”
Love is the poison that every man and every woman take freely.
To succeed in love, one must have wits.
They must have a will forged in the heat of hell.
Their minds must be made, their hearts must be firm,
And, above all else, their tongue must be bound.
If a person can achieve all those listed above–
Then maybe, just maybe, will they succeed in love.