Broken

I was born with broken and missing pieces. My brain doesn’t process information right.

When listening to people talk I hear the words but don’t understand what they are saying because there’s more to it than just the words. My brain doesn’t see the subtle clues that give the extra context to understand what they mean. Their facial expressions, vocal inflection, unusual phrasings, and other nonverbal cues don’t exist for me. I have only the words they say and the meanings the dictionary gives them. Everytime I hear someone talking I am reminded that I’m broken.

I can’t have normal conversations. I have no real interests. My brain is filled with information I’ve obtained by reading about everything I can just to know stuff in an attempt to be able to talk to people. Whenever someone tries to talk to me I have facts and figures, statistics, other peoples opinions, etc stored in my brain to recite like a parrot. I have planned responses to “normal” conversational questions like a computer. I go through the motions in an attempt to look normal. I can have a subject specific discuaaion but I can’t even manage to follow a “normal” conversation because it changes topic too much for me to process. Normal conversations sound like people are saying whatever random thing pops into their head from one second to the next and make no sense to me. When someone tries to talk to me I am reminded that I’m broken

When I’m around people I know I’m uncomfortable, with people I don’t know it’s even worse. I don’t know what’s expected of me, what I’m supposed to say or do. I don’t know how to act or what to say. I’m completely lost in social situations. If there’s more than one person I’m lost and even when it’s only one person unless they’re someone I’m completely comfortable with I’m still lost. Being around people reminds me that I’m broken.

I can’t touch anyone. Physical contact makes my skin crawl. Something as simple as a handshake or even a fist bump leaves me wanting to peel my skin off. That most simple of human interactions, touch, is denied to me. I can’t give a a relative or friend a hug, I can’t curl up on the couch with someone and watch a movie, I can’t have a physical relationship with anyone. I haven’t been given any choice but to be alone. The fantasy of it being any different reminds me that I’m broken.

I’m not a real person. I’m a shell that pretends to be real. Even Pinocchio was more real than me but unlike him there is no Blue Fairy for me. I’ll spend my life avoiding people, and being little more than a puppet going through the motions of being a person whenever I can’t.

I’m was born broken and there is no fixing me.

Solitude

Time alone with no distractions, the the moments between turning off the lights and falling asleep, the hours when you have only your own thoughts, only yourself, is something many people fear. It is a time when many people feel alone. It is a time when you cannot deny the truth of who you are and if that truth is unpleasant, it is a time when loneliness sets in.

Many people go about their life seeking distraction. Whether it’s hours spent in front of the television, immersion in online games, jumping from one relationship to another and losing themselves in them, or any of the hundreds of other external sources of focus they all serve a single purpose; to keep their thoughts focused on something other than themselves. Those people need to avoid being alone with themselves because they do not like who they are. They know they are not the person they want to be and rather than changing who they are they seek distractions from it. They live a lie because it is easier than facing the truth. They are the people who know what loneliness truly is because they do not have even themselves as friends and in the dark of night they cannot hide from themselves.

I am not one of them.

Over the last two years I have have very little time with only myself, only while laying in bed at night have I had the opportunity to spend time with me and even then I had worries outside of myself that occupied my mind. There was someone I cared about who needed me, my days were spent being there for her, and at night I worried about her as I worked through all the variables in her life seeking a way for things to be put right for her. She no longer has a need for me, and so over the last two months I have had the opportunity to spend time with me not only at night but throughout the day on a daily basis. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that time.

I spend my days physically active performing tasks that allow my mind to be turned inward, that give me the luxury of time with myself. Inside my head, disconnected from the world around me, I find true reality. That which we see, what we hear, what we experience with our senses in our daily lives is only an illusion. It is a false reality created by our perception. To one who is predisposed to see the good it is a jewel that merely needs polishing while to one predisposed to see the bad it is a quagmire from which one can never escape. Even to those wear neither rose colored glasses nor a veil made of ash there is still only the limited perception allowed by ones individual experiences and knowledge. The external world is real only on the surface of the viewers mind. True reality is the truth of who we are, the truth of our own nature, and exists only in the deepest recesses of the mind.

Each of us must find our own truth, our own reality, and to do that we must put aside the external and turn our eyes in. When we cast off our illusions of the world, and of ourselves, and seek within to find the reality of our own natures we begin the journey back to ourselves. When we find who we truly are and accept that person we can begin the process of changing the illusion of who we are so that it matches the reality and when that happens we are never again alone.

I know who I am. I know my strengths. I know my weaknesses. I know my limitations. Except when I am separated from myself, I am never alone. I know the truth of me and therefore I do not know loneliness.

Wimpy + Brutus = Too much for spinach?

Why is it that some people will go out of their way to avoid living up to their obligations and then act offended when someone gets upset over their actions? Worse yet, why do those people look for opportunity to act offended before anyone has said anything about their actions? I realize that the first is to try to get something for nothing at the expense of others, but the second serves only to warn people about what they are doing. Why would someone give themselves away like that? Why would someone who is trying to “get one over” on someone else be foolish enough to provide warning that could allow the person they are trying to cheat the opportunity to take action to protect themselves? Do they think that playing victim will gain them some advantage?

Is it simple stupidity? Can someone who uses people to get ahead really be that stupid as to give themselves away? Could they be so stupid as to not even be able to remember what lies they’ve told to whom so that they end up giving their lies away themselves? Could they be so stupid as to be unable to remember from one day to the next, or even one hour to the next that they had told you ABC while they are now saying 8 9 10? Can users really be that stupid?

If so, just how is it that they manage to ever cheat anyone in the first place? If these people are truly that stupid how do they not end up continually worse off for their efforts? How is it that these people even manage to get people to believe that they will “gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today?”

Preying on those who are not neurotypical would certainly account for some success, but even with the number of people who aren’t neurotypical out there it would be extremely difficult to get by on just them especially with the difficulties we generally have just managing our own lives. If you add in those who are simply desperate for human contact because of personal inadequacies you still do not have a huge pool of potential victims.

So how do they do it? How do they convince normal people that they’re a good person? How do they convince the normal people of the world that they are someone worth calling friend? How do they get others to believe they are deserving of help? How do those who use others and throw them away manage to have more than just small, momentary gains before everything crashes down on them? How is it that they are not continually living in squalor? How is it that word of what type of person they are doesn’t spread and prevent others from falling for their lies?

How is it that bad people prosper while the good stuggle?

I Failed Them

January of 2009 I suffered a collapsed lung. One of my Baby Kitties, Optimus Prime, stayed by my side for the four days it took after the lung ruptured for me to finally go to the hospital because I couldn’t breath. When I came home from the hospital He didn’t leave my side for the next two weeks. One month to the day after my lung tore and collapsed Optimus left for the Rainbow Bridge.

In taking care of me He’d given me all His love and life to make sure I could take care of His MommyCat, Litter Sissies, and Big Sissies without keeping any for Himself. His life, which should have been 15-18 years, was cut short at less than two. I made my Opty a promise, and have resworn that vow many times in the five years since. I promised Him I would keep His family together and give the rest of my Babies the life they, and He, deserve.

I failed.

We’ve been staying with friends since losing my apartment in September due to the building being condemned as a result of the landlord not paying the water bill. My Babies stay in the basement because of the dogs in the house. I’ve been working a new job since February. The shifts are 10 hours, it’s in a refrigerated warehouse that’s mostly freezer, between the complications from the collapsed lung and the issues from the curve in my spine I’m in constant pain and always tired. Everyday when I get up I spend some time with my Babies talking to them and giving pets and scratches to whichever of them decide they want some love. I do the same when I get in from work in the morning.

Everyday I see them. Everyday I pet them. Everyday I have at least one of them in my lap, usually at least three. Everyday I failed to notice a problem.

When the dogs go out in the yard they sometimes bring in more than they left with. The friends providing us housing have a bag of diatomaceous earth in the basement because it happens every year. The dogs have been thumping the floors constantly for the last couple weeks and I didn’t notice. My cats have been less clustered and more “loner” for the last couple weeks and I chalked it up to them being in an antisocial mood. I’ve been getting bitten up and just assumed it was mosquitoes at work on break and lunch. I didn’t see the problem when it would have mattered.

Friday, May 30, Calicat Jackie was laying near the basement sink instead of in the box of magazines She’d claimed for Herself and I noticed Her back legs and tail were all matted and dirty. The furnace/AC has a drain pipe for the water that condenses in it when the AC is on but the cats keep knocking it away from the drain so it creates a puddle. I assumed She had been laying in the puddle and then got into something that got Her legs all dirty. I brought Her upstairs in the carrier to give Her a bath and while bathing Her I started seeing blood in the water. It was coming from around Her belly and the water draining off of Her neck and head. That’s when I saw the scratches from Her claws. I also saw the cause.

Fleas. That’s why the cats are keeping to themselves. They’re all uncomfortable, getting bitten up, and being predators they’re avoiding each other to not have their “weakness” taken advantage of.

The dogs brought fleas in from the yard, they’ve been spreading through the house, and my cats have them. I bathed Her multiple times to get as many of them off as I could, got Her dried off and even though I didn’t like doing it I took Her back to the basement in the carrier. I opened the door and left it like that so She could hide in there if She wanted and promised Her I’d make it all better when I got home from work.

After work I went to Walmart and got flea shampoo, spray for on the cats, and spray for furniture to kill the fleas. As soon as I got home I went downstairs to get Calicat and bathe Her first. She was still in the carrier, Her fur was still a mess from being towel dried, and when I called Her name and tapped on the side of the box She didn’t respond.

I was too late. Calicat had gone to the Bridge to join Her Brofur Optimus.

I lost it. I closed up the carrier and ran up the stairs to take it outside then went back down to look for the rest of my Babies. I got them all sprayed with the on body flea spray, got it rubbed in, then went back up and out to the yard to Calicat. I took the top off the carrier and when I shined a light on Her I could see the fleas leaving. The vile things killed Her and were trying to leave to find a new victim.

I lost it again. I got the can of furniture spray and used it. I wasn’t going to let those things just leave and go on with their lives. That wasn’t the end of it. I just couldn’t leave Her like that. The thought of those things on Her body was too much. I closed up the carrier and took her up to the bathroom to bathe her again. I had to get them off Her. I had to. The spray hadn’t been enough and there were some still alive. The flea shampoo took care of that. Those vile parasites were not going to infect another creature and they were not going to have my Baby as a cemetery.

I talked to her and cried the entire time. After I dried Her off I brushed Her fur flat with my hand, continued talking to Her, and finally wrapped Her up in the towel I use to dry my hair, the DaddyFur as I called it with them because they always groomed it after my showers when we had our own place and they could lay with me. Calicat always fixed my goatee for me, that was Hers alone. Now She’s gone because I didn’t see what I should have and the best I could do is to wrap Her in my towel before placing Her in a bag and putting her on the back porch until I can call the vet about cremation.

Wednesday, June 11th I went downstairs to get my Babies and take then to the bathroom for another round of flea baths and I found Lynx. She’d joined Her Litter Sissy at the Bridge with Opty.

I lost it again. I tended to Her, I killed those vile creatures, I cleaned them off of Her, and then I wrapped Her in a towel and dried Her off for the last time. She’d lay on my pillow curled around my head as I slept, curl up beside my chest when I stretched out to read, and lick my forehead and cheeks while purring when I wasn’t feeling good.

Two weeks, two Babies.

I failed Them.
I failed Calicat.
I failed Lynx
I failed Optimus.
I failed all my Babies.

She was suffering the pain of those bites and of scratching Herself open and I failed to see my Babies needed me. They took care of me when I needed it, but I failed to take care of them.
I deserve the pain I live in.

Translational Losses

If given a book that covered the basics of string theory, after reading it, I would come out of it with an understanding that went beyond the knowledge provided by it. If instead someone read the book to me I would be left with the knowledge the book contained but my understanding would be less than what the book was seeking to impart. Working from the written word, I will obtain understanding without knowledge. Working from the spoken word, I will obtain knowledge without understanding.

It’s always been like that for me. The written word has always had more meaning, more substance, than the spoken word. Whether I am reading the words of another or expressing the concepts inside my own head, the written word conveys them clearly while speaking them results in losses in the translation. If I need to tell you something it is better to let me write it than to ask me to speak it because I won’t be able to make myself clear unless I use a pen.

It’s the way my brain is wired. Speak to me and I will hear all the words but none of the nuance. As the pitch of your voice rises and falls, as you place an accent on a particular word or phrase, as the way you’re standing or holding your head changes automatically to provide additional context to your words I will have only the words you speak. Those subtle clues that tell others there is more to what you are saying than the mere words will be invisible to me because my brain does not see them and therefore is incapable of processing what does not exist. The converse is just as true.

When I speak, my attempts at appearing to be normal result in my vocal inflection making me sound like English is not my native language and I look as though I suffer from a nervous disorder because my body language is wrong. When I make no such attempts, just like the enterprising captain of an starship I shall not name, I appear to be a bad actor reading from a script. Give me a pen and all that changes. Allow me to express myself through a written medium and in less time than it would take for me to think about what I am trying to say while speaking the written word will have provided complete understanding as if I you had read my thoughts directly from my mind.

If you must speak to me, send me an email or a text. Put your words into a context where they must say exactly what you mean so that I will know what it is you are saying. If I need to speak to you, allow me to do so in writing so that I can tell you what I need to without it becoming lost in the language. If we must communicate, do so non-vocally so that we can understand each other. In time, as we each come to understand how the other thinks we will be able to speak. Until then, if we are to understand each other we must use the written word.

WoodZen

I’m starting a new job. I’ll be doing woodworking again. So what does that mean for me?

It means industrial machinery with sharp blades spinning at several thousand RPM’s. It means mechanical, pneumatic, and hydraulic clamps generating hundreds to thousands of pounds of pressure. It means handheld power tools with spinning blades and bits. In short, it means losing focus for a fraction of a second could result in injuries ranging from loss of a finger to loss of life.

Sounds scary, doesn’t it? Now imagine what that means for someone who isn’t really connected to the world around him. Think of the risks to someone who has to constantly make a conscious effort to not get lost in his head from the moment he wakes until he finally falls asleep. Sounds even scarier now. Luckily, even though I’m the person you just imagined when it comes to running machines I don’t get lost in my head; instead I discover the meaning of Zen.

So what do I mean by that? While an oversimplification, Zen Buddhists seek to fully experience the world Now. Not “now,” “Now.” This instant, this single fraction of a fraction of a second, no past or future. Nothing but “Now,” repeated over and over. That’s me on a machine. What I was just doing or will be doing don’t exist, only this very instant with me and the machine in perfect harmony with each other exists.

Instead of getting lost in myself, I find myself. It’s the only time I truly feel like myself because it’s the only time I lose my connection to my perception of myself. When conscious thought is replaced with true thought; right thought; Real Thought, without the conscious mind interfering I become Me. This is when I’m whole, when I’m free. It’s when I become more than just a reflection of a what the society says I’m supposed to be and become real.

If only I could figure out how to do that all the time.

Lonely World

I can’t relate to people. I used to try but in the end I accepted the futility of it and I gave up. I’m not like everyone else. I knew that when I was a child. At eight years old I’d already taught myself algebra, trigonometry, and calculus; had my first poem published which I’d written a year before; and I could look at complex machines such as the electric adding machines my grandfather repaired and figure out not only how they worked but how to fix them when they didn’t without anyone explaining it to me. What I couldn’t do included holding a conversation with my peers, starting a conversation with anyone, following conversations, or figure out what to say when someone directed the conversation to me because I had no clue what was being discussed. I couldn’t play any of the games other children played, whether video games or physical games. I didn’t have the needed coordination unless I could watch whatever part of my body needed to be in motion even if it was only peripherally. Contact sports were doubly out, even with family physical contact bothered me. Unless I already knew different, I believed everything I was told because I couldn’t tell when someone wasn’t being honest with me.

I wasn’t a normal eight year old and I knew it.

I’m not a normal adult and I know it.

I still can’t start or carry a conversation because to me the normal ebb and flow of conversation sounds like people are just saying whatever random things pop into their head. I still look at the ground in front of me as I’m walking so I can see my feet and keep them from getting tangled with each other. If I offer or ask for a hug it means that saying “I trust you with my life” is like saying there’s a little water in the Pacific because I’m still not even remotely comfortable with physical contact. I can’t handle crowds, places with a lot of noise even if it’s not loud. Fireworks at a distance are fine but up close the flashes and booms are too much. I can’t read people; facial expressions, body language, vocal inflection, etc have no meaning to me. I don’t even see them and even unusual phrasing doesn’t register with me. It all goes right past me as if it doesn’t exist leaving me with only the exact words spoken to me to go on which leaves me open to being taken advantage of by even the worst liars.

New places leave my heart racing but not in a good way, rather than excitement, it’s fear and anxiety that has my heat slamming into my ribs. Old places, familiar places, comfortable places, those are the safe places. I can go there, the places I’ve always gone are the places I can go to but even that can change. What is familiar and safe can become alien. Memories that start with climbing the stairs at 5 years old, right arm reaching up above my head to hold Nanny’s hand as she takes me to celebrate the end of my first day of school and getting a “tooter fish” sandwich, “a big one cuz I’m a big boy now, I go to school,” can become memories of betrayal, of having someone look me in the face saying one thing only to learn behind my back it was the opposite. Memories of discovering the “best sauce ever” and ordering a “cheese steak, extra cheese and super extra sauce cuz it’s the best” every week with Nanny can become meaningless next to memories of being used for others amusement and thrown away like garbage. Even safe places aren’t really safe.

While others go wherever whims take them, I follow a pattern. Everyday I go the same places, in the same order, and do the same things without change. I stick to my routine, it gives me a measure of normalcy in my life because it establishes normal for me. My routine is my normal, deviating from it in even a small way leaves me unsettled, big changes leave me lost, inside I become a ship with no rudder in a storm with no idea how not to capsize and sink.

I spend my time inside my head, lost in the maze of my thoughts with no connection to the world around me. When others drag me from my mind and out into the real world I temporarily connect to a small degree, when someone who has found their way into my world is around I make a concerted effort to connect for them but the mental and emotional drain that effort has on me comes with consequences, a need to fall into my head more deeply than usual and that results in thinking too much, over thinking things that don’t need any thought at all, which leaves me questioning what I know and getting myself all twisted up inside. When that happens I need a friend to pull me out of the quagmire in my head and set the world right for me but that requires pulling me out of my head enough that it leaves me needing to crawl back in continuing the cycle. A close friend will both save me from the dark corners of my mind and create the need to go deeper into them making it hard to ever be close to anyone.

How is someone who was born with broken and missing pieces supposed to find a place in a world that he can’t ever be a part of?

Long Nights and Social Slumber

Winter. It’s cold, it’s damp, it snows, sometimes it even rains, but one thing is always the same. It’ starts and ends every year. Regardless of what the actual weather is, the year begins and ends with nature slumbering while human society marches on. As the rest of the world rests up for the spring, humans continue on through the long, dark nights the same as if it was a long, bright day. We’re out of sync with our world. That might explain why our society is in such turmoil. No matter where you look in the world there is trouble. Between political, social, and military unrest our world is tearing itself apart. Could our disconnection from our planet be a factor in that?

Some might say it is human nature, but throughout history humanity has tried to eliminate such strife. One society after another has tried to create a better world, one after another they have failed, yet we continue to try. Human nature would seem to be to try to create peace, to better our society, to improve our state for future generations. Yet except when it is on a small scale in a self contained community we fail. Could that be the problem? Could it be our attempts to create a single, peaceful society are doomed to fail because it can only work at the local level?

Of course it could. The founders of the United States created a system where on the big scale federal power was limited to a few select areas with all other power retained at the state and local level. They knew that no matter how intelligent, educated, and well meaning federal officials were they could never manage the entire nation because it was too spread out, with too many different groups, too many varied cultural traditions, too many different social conditions, too many different economic conditions, and too many different people. They knew that states needed to be free to govern themselves internally so that local communities could do what was best in their area. So why does that not happen?

It’s power. Those who have it want to wield more of it. They seek to gain greater control over those they govern and to govern more people. It’s not that power corrupts, it’s that power is addicting. This is a basic truth, when you show someone they can get what they want, they want more. So we have strife the world over. Benevolent governments become oppressive over time, the people start out supporting their government and eventually rise up to topple it. While at their peak those governments seek to increase their influence, both internally and abroad. Nations invade their neighbors to expand the territory controlled by the government while restricting those they already control further. What started out as a system that created peace and prosperity for the people becomes a system that crushes, controls, and impoverishes them until they rise up and take their freedom back.

So how long can any nation truly last? How long will the people of any society believe the lies of their leaders? How long will any once free people wear the shackles they created for themselves before deciding to break the chains of their bondage?

…all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

The people of any society will slumber for so long as their bed is not too uncomfortable. A single nail will be an inconvenience. A couple nails will be an annoyance. Even many nails will be tolerated. Only when it has become a bed of nails will society awaken. How comfortable is your bed?

Random Thoughts

Just some random thoughts I’d like to share.

I have no particular religious beliefs, but I have noticed something about those who do. Monday through Saturday people walk around dressed like they’re selling what they were born with, but come Sunday it’s modest clothing for church. Why? If you ask, they’ll tell you it’s not proper to dress “like that” for church because it’s “God’s house.” Even though it was built in God’s name, the church is a structure built by the hands of man.

The Earth, home to all creatures, is the house God built. The Earth is God’s house. He sees you in it everyday. He sees how you dress everyday. Everyday you consider it proper to “dress like that” in God’s house but see it as wrong to do so in Man’s house.

Is God blind 6 days a week or are people simply hypocrites putting on a show on Sunday?

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What happened to Cuddling? Not the pseudo-cuddling some people pretend to do because they’re expecting something else later, I mean real cuddling. Sitting with someone curled up on a couch together or side by side in bed, your arms wrapped around them or theirs around you, just being physically close for no more reason than to let them know you’re there for them and to know they’re there for you.

When did just being there with someone just to be there with them become a historical footnote?
When did something so simple yet so meaningful get relegated to being foreplay for sex?
How did we let that simple expression of love, be it romantic or between friends, become something less?
Why is it that society views women who just want to cuddle as needy and men who do as less than a man?
At what point did we forget that the physical should be an extension of something deeper?

I like Cuddling. If I had a like minded friend needing to ward off loneliness she could ring my phone for a Cuddle Call any time and I’d be there on the couch with her expecting nothing more than to get to pick the movie from time to time or to occasionally fall asleep listening to heartbeat instead of with her listening to mine. I’m a Cuddle Buddy waiting to be needed.

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“Everybody knows….” Why is it that people think that just because “Everybody knows” that automatically makes it true?

EPA regulations require gasoline to be cleaner burning from Memorial Day to Labor Day to keep air pollution down. Producing that cleaner burning gas costs more so of course the price will go up, yet “Everybody knows” the price increase is because oil companies are gouging the consumer in order to get higher profits when they know people will be driving more.

No I’m not going on a gas price rant, that’s merely an example of what I’m talking about.

A lie repeated often enough will be accepted as truth. Whether it’s something as big as gas prices or as small as a person’s motives all it takes is one person making an assumption and telling it to their friends, who will of course believe it because their friend wouldn’t lie to them, and the lie-becomes-truth cycle has begun.

That’s what I’m talking about, Assumptions. Every assumption is based on a frame of reference. If the frame of reference is valid the assumption has a reasonable probability of being true, if the frame of reference isn’t valid then the assumption has such a small probability of being true it may as well have none.

When the assumption is about another person the only frame of reference a person has is themself. As long as the person they’re making the assumption about is a carbon copy of them they have a valid frame of reference, if not then the frame of reference is flawed to such a degree that the assumption has almost no chance of being true.

So why is it that assumptions about others are so readily accepted as truth?
Why do people assume that everyone is just like them?
Why do they assume that they know everyone elses reasons and thoughts?
Why do people feel the need to make assumptions about others rather than just asking? On those occassions that they do ask, why is it that when the answer doesn’t match their assumptions they decide you’ve lied to them?

The answer is simple, and contains a valuable lesson. You can learn more about a person by the assumptions they make about others than through any other means.

Other Side of the Coin

Bloodsuckers, the world has it’s share of them, but what of the other type of person? What about the truly good people in the world, where are they? Where are the people who understand the meaning of friendship, of loyalty, of trust? What happened to the days when a man’s word was gold? Sadly, those people, while not as few as you might believe, are hard to find. They hide from the world to protect themselves from the leeches.

Those who are worth knowing are often the most abused. We bend over backwards for those we care about, go out of our way to help them even when it is detrimental to ourselves, and we do so “knowing” that those we are helping will be there for us when we need them. We’ll offer to lend you our car when yours is in bad repair so you and your significant other have one less thing to worry about and ask only for the gas tank to have as much in it when you return it as when we handed you the keys. Our tools are your tools when your home needs repaired, our knowledge will be freely given, and if needed our labor will get the job done for nothing more than a combined price of a thank you, a hug, and a cup of coffee.

Never fear when we’re behind you. We have your back and will block the knives others try to put in you even if it means we become their target because we know you’ll be there to pull their blades from us and bandage the wounds. If shared with us, your secrets become our secrets and will be held where none will ever see them. The same is true of your joy, no more than what is offered will ever be taken and what is received will be returned when the Universe shines on our life.

This and more can be expected from the good people in the world. Those who brighten the world simply by being a part of it will enrich your life with their presence.

So how do you find them? Where do you look for someone who has crawled into a hole and pulled a rock over the opening? You don’t. You simply wait for them to come out of their hole and find you. You may be waiting a while, but when one of them comes along you will have a true friend for as long as you are deserving of them.