THE CORNERSTONE

(n.) an important quality or feature on which a particular thing depends or is based.

We are more than halfway through 2021 and I swear some days it still feels like I’ve missed an entire year.  And, I guess in some ways I did.  Even with all of the things that happened in 2020, I definitely skipped some parts—largely the internal ones.  Introspection took on a whole new meaning in 2020 thanks to a global pandemic.  (I mean, I do feel like my personality type completely assisted me in getting through quarantine.  I wasn’t mad about having to stay home; I don’t know many introverts who were either).  But even with my natural inclination to thrive in silence, I still ended up neglecting myself, spiritually speaking. 

I’ve recently gone back to my regularly scheduled programming with Tom.  If you’ve read anything I’ve written on this website or follow my FB page, you’ll recognize the name Tom with the #TalksWithTom hashtag.  I knew that I needed to get back to some elements of life before 2020—for me.  Returning to my regular visits with Tom has made me realize that a global shutdown from the outside world pushed me to also shutting down on myself.  And because it’s no one else’s responsibility to dig yourself out of a hole, I grabbed the proverbial shovel and started digging. 

It’s no secret that I’m INCREDIBLY hard on myself.  I know many people are this way as well, so I’m not saying that this is some super power that I alone possess.  If you’ve read anything I’ve ever written, or engaged in any deep-level conversation with me, I’m a big fan of practical life advice and the application of it for the purposes of self-improvement.  Sound advice gives me oxygen.  Education gives me life.  And honestly, so does helping people.  It’s the cornerstone of who I am as a person.  It’s weird for me to actually read that statement, too.  I make far too many jokes about how little I like people, when in actuality it’s not that I don’t like humans—I am far too interested in them to hate them.  However, I am selective about my inner circle humans.  But as far as the general public is concerned, I absolutely love learning about the nature of people and what makes them tick.  The way people operate fascinates me beyond measure.  The job I have allows me to get a unique vantage point on people.  I’m eternally grateful for this as well.  And dare I say, it has also taught me a lot about the kind of person I want to be, too. 

Even as captivated as I am with the outside world, I still internalize to a fault.  I love when people share their story with me; I’m mortified of sharing mine with everyone else…at least beyond the superficial level.  Most people know WHAT I’ve been through; few know HOW I survived it.  Thankfully, I’ve been lucky enough to have been adopted by some pretty amazing people.  I wasn’t always this selective when it came to people either.  Age is a rather beautiful thing, but an unfair thing.  I know experiences shape who you grow up to be…but it does seem rather off-putting that you spend more than half of your adult life learning lessons to which you begin applying late in life.  I never put too much thought in to the relationships I had with other people until I got older.  I just always thought that the more people you had in your life, the better odds you had at having a good life. 

I was wrong.  Really wrong. 

I have spent the greater part of my life just trying to make everyone around me happy.  I would sacrifice my time, money, energy, passion, knowledge, presence…and everything else under the sun…just to make sure those around me were fulfilled.  Think of all of those times JUST. HAVING. MORE. SOLID. BOUNDARIES. could have helped me make better choices, or I could have purged soul-suckers from taking too much of my precious time.  After all, we only have a finite amount of time on earth, so why did it take me so long to figure it all out?  I suppose if I take the position of understanding that I am always a student, it would make life much easier to navigate and my quest for unlimited knowledge more palatable.  But this seems to be one of the most challenge fences I have yet to climb.  But thankfully, now when I fall and bust my ass, I pick up the phone and call Tom to help me do some mental sorting. 

I recently posed the question to Tom of why I always seem to be the recipient of inheriting the broken and being the one who serves as the catalyst to change the path forward.  We’re still working through this topic.  Even after two years of discussing it. 

But...for me, it boils down to recognizing this for myself:

Evolution requires focus.  It requires observation.  It requires the strength to take the higher road when you want to go postal deep down.  The ability to still remain standing when others want to try and ridicule and destroy.  I don’t care how educated someone is, academically speaking.  Education doesn’t buy you rights; show me experience and adaptation all day long.  Only then can real respect be achieved.  Show me compassion.  Show me understanding.  Tell me your story so I can understand you.  Because here is something I’ve learned about life:  no one deserves a medal for breathing or doing a job—including being a friend, a professional, a spouse, a parent—hell, for being a human being.  Empathy isn’t achieved by comparing dick sizes.  No one is more special or greater than the one next to you because you were able to adapt and overcome obstacles in your life.  The last I checked, no one gets out alive and some people endure more than others while we’re all lucky enough to be on this earth. 

When you can acknowledge all of that, then feel free to sit at my table and talk to me.  I’m always down to hear someone’s story of surviving life.  It’s different for everyone, and no one person’s path is easier than the next.  It’s the cornerstone of what makes each individual beautiful. 

Strive to be unique and beautiful.  Vulnerability never killed anyone, but resentment sure does. 

I don’t know about everyone else but I’m too busy making changes within myself to render my opinions on how people should proceed with living their life, or judge them for the choices they make.  We’re all fighting battles no one else knows about. 

So, stop being a bitch to those around you—evolve instead.

You are an endless project...changing, evolving, surprising.
— James Patterson

THE COLLECTION

(n.) – the act or process of collecting; an accumulation of objects gathered for study, comparison, or exhibition.

I’ve been on an 80s kick lately with my daily music journeys.  Especially as I’ve begun reentry into the outside world again.  Music has a way of setting the tone for our day, removing us from the confines of our analytical minds, alleviating stress, and elevating our mood.  It can also be a source of inspiration, or stop you dead in your tracks and take you down a rabbit hole of emotional exploration.  And as spring is upon us one year after the world was completely changed by the pandemic, being able to open the windows and the sunroof is giving me life. 

I think the magnitude of this past year is finally catching up to me a tiny bit.  I miss my friends.  Social normalcy.  Not having to remember to cover my face up just to leave my house.  Not living in fear of potentially getting sick every time I walk in to the office at work.  It feels like everything needs to be planned around COVID.  I miss the spontaneity of getting in the car and just leaving town for a couple of days because my gypsy soul speaks to me.  And honestly, I can only breathe recycled air in my house for so long before it starts making me feel like a caged lion.  Yes, it’s getting better and the vaccination is becoming more widely available.  To a degree, this offers hope.  But alas, spring also offers hope so I’m thankful that porch sitting season has finally arrived until hell shows up to destroy us for the summer.    

I’m an introvert, but I also miss the things that help me counterbalance my emotional uproars.  With so much time on our hands these days, it’s hard to avoid thinking.  And in my case, it’s been hard to quit overthinking.  Isolation offers some positives, don’t get me wrong.  It allows me to spend a tremendous amount of time with my husband, our kids, and my dogs.  It allows me to organize my house (which I find incredibly cathartic).  It’s also given me time to perfect my makeup application by giving me time to explore the black hole of makeup tutorials (and there are WAY too many opinions and application processes for which I can’t keep up).  So basically, I’m pretty much a professional makeup artist now.

Extra time on my hands hasn’t been terrible. I’ve learned a lot this past year, outside of various ways to apply makeup and the insanity of the beauty products industry.  I think many of us can say we have taken lessons of varying degrees after 2020.  I’ve learned patience deeper than any year prior to 2020.  As I was driving the other day, ‘Til Tuesday’s song “Voice’s Carry” came on during the random shuffle I was jamming out to from my 80s playlist.  It’s been so long since I’ve listened to the songs I grew up on that I felt the dusty playlist needed a bit of attention.  I remember mom my rocking that song so hard when it came out in ’85.  I couldn’t help but laugh when it came on remembering this little tidbit of my childhood.  I also found myself going back and listening to it again at least three times before I got to work.  Which also made me laugh because it occurred to me that growing up, my parents used to do the same thing with certain songs.  And then I wondered if they did that for the same reason I do it now—because some days certain songs just hit you harder, emotionally speaking. 

I’ll circle back to this particular moment later, so stick with me… 

I grew up listening to all genres of music thanks to the vast tastes of my parents.  Music was an essential in our household. Just like milk, butter, and eggs are staples in all southern households (you know…in case a tornado or snow comes).  Now that I’m older, I think back on all of those times when we would have “Music Night” or “Garage Party”.  I realize not only did I get to experience the freer aspects of my parent’s personalities, but also, I was really getting a glimpse into what my parents were experiencing or had experienced, emotionally speaking.  I can recall so many situations that my adolescent and teenage brain was unable to comprehend at that point in time.  And now as an adult, it all kind of makes sense.  While I can’t necessarily tell you specifics (because the truth is, I don’t even know myself), I can tell you that there were times I think each of my parents needed a release of sorts, and music was usually the outlet.  I know for me, personally, there are songs I can tie back to a specific place or a specific time and recall those moments.  I have a wide collection of music that helps me remember these parts of my life, for which I am incredibly thankful.  Some good, some bad—but many songs in my collection make me smile because it reminds me of a moment in time that I felt happy for one reason or another, not always necessarily tied to a particular event or people.  And I find myself at times turning to a random playlist or embracing the random shuffle from my epic collection just to escape the pressures and confines of adulting, even if for just one moment.  After the isolation 2020 brought to us thanks to Carole Baskin and bats, I think music has saved me on multiple occasions from having a meltdown.         

I’ve always found that the beauty of music is similar to that of literature:  open to interpretation.  Granted, there are songs that clearly have a specific meaning.  And these days, there are a lot of songs that have literally no meaning at all and are just catchy.  Or unsophisticated.  Take your pick; there are plenty.  I also adore the fact that I’ve taken this part of my childhood and have applied it to my son’s life—he loves music.  He loves dancing in the car with me, or at home in the kitchen.  This is something that I will forever remember when I’m old and recall when he was a child.  I only hope he catalogues it as one of his fonder memories of when he was a kid.

So back to my ‘Til Tuesday moment…

Produced by Mike Thorne for the band’s debut album, Voices Carry appeared in 1985.  Back when MTV was about music videos, the video was equally as impactful as the song itself.  According to Wikipedia, the song peaked at number 8 on the Billboard Hot 100.  It is said that Aimee Mann, the lead singer for the group, garnered her inspiration for the song about a female acquaintance and wrote it from a man’s point of view.  Others say the song was inspired by an argument between Mann and Michael Hausman, another bandmate/former boyfriend.  There are apparently live versions of the song that have the gender swapped as well as an omitted verse from the original studio recording.  Whatever the case, I think it is a song to which many of us can relate.  Mann’s voice is full of paranoia, potency, eeriness, and absolution.  And just incase you haven’t heard the song or know the lyrics; you can watch it here

Up until last week, this song mostly reminded me of my mom and riding along with her blaring it in the car.  But as I mentioned before, sometimes lyrics hit you differently even if you’ve grown up listening to them and never thought much about them.  I think often times lyrics will trigger an underlying sentiment or feeling in that moment, too. 

And on this particular day it got me thinking…how often do we silence our inner voice in order to appease those around us? 

While this song errs more on the side of a woman being silenced by her partner because he feels shame, I think the message of the song can extend in to most circumstances in life where those who feel shame are driven to manipulate those around them in order to gain control over someone or a situation.  As I read last summer in Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly, “Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging” (69).  I think about all of those moments in my life where I was afraid to speak up and be heard because I felt shame for one reason or another.  How I looked.  How I felt about myself.  How I see myself as a mother.  How I perceive myself as a partner in a relationship.  Who I am as a friend.  My abilities professionally.  How I treated my mother when she was alive.  How I was raised.  How I operate financially. My level of intelligence.  My progress in life.    

Am I enough? 

The shame categories Brown discovered in her research for Daring Greatly were summed up in to twelve types, and at one point or another in my life I have experienced every single one of them.  That was rather eye opening, because I didn’t recognize that it was shame looming in the shadows that governed my responses to each of these areas of my life.  I believe in connectivity; however, I was lacking in a lot of these ranges until I actually sat down and figured out what the underlying cause of my shame was with respect to these areas. 

The real answer to the matter was this:  vulnerability in life was absolutely and intensely frightening to me, therefore I sheltered myself inside of a protective bubble.  Because you can’t get hurt if you hide, right?  I tried to control every aspect of my existence, to the point of mental and emotional overload.  I expected incredibly too much of myself and often found myself overcompensating to make up for what I perceived was lacking.  And what I was lacking was the acknowledgement that I needed to learn to be authentically who I am without being afraid.  And Brown is right:  the only way to be resilient to shame is to just embrace being vulnerable. 

Acknowledge your shit and sit in it. 

So epic discomfort began.

This takes work.  And for me personally, an incredible amount of work.  Daily, in fact.  Vulnerability doesn’t come easy to me and it’s an everyday practice.  And what do we do when we meet shame head-on?  We blame others or our circumstances, we apologize for things that aren’t our fault, or we hide.  Hiding is my specialty, and I have a very intimate relationship with how to do it effectively.  I still find myself at times silencing myself and withdrawing because I don’t want to be perceived as difficult, or incapable of being a good friend, partner, or professional. 

I’m not ashamed to admit this now.  It has taken me ten years to come to terms with who I am and where I want to be in life.  It has taken countless conversations with people I trust.  It takes me acknowledging my flaws and being okay with not being okay.  It takes me recognizing what is triggering me and why I am behaving a particular way toward the issue at-hand.    

I still stumble.  Every day is filled with risk and our ability to interact with it, and when you are a self-proclaimed risk manager the reality of life’s circumstances and our relationships with people present opportunity to encounter it.  It also doesn’t help that I’m a perfectionist.  I’ve also survived some heavy life shit—which means I’m conditioned to run, hide, or attack.  It’s quite a nasty collection of behaviors I’ve accumulated over my lifetime thus far, but I now work on embracing connectivity over fear.  The largest lesson I’ve learned about shame is something to which Brown speaks in Daring Greatly: “…shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we can change and do better” (72). 

Because the real truth and the most powerful lesson I’ve learned in life is that we are all capable of change and we can all do better, no matter how great or small.  We aren’t victims of our own life and we can always choose growth over inaction.  The more we hide, the less connected we become.  The less connected we are, the more painful life becomes to navigate.  We expect disappointment.  We fear love.  We control.  We don’t strive for professional advancement.  We tolerate toxic behaviors from others.  We become less satisfied with who we are.  We expect the worst. We engage in destructive behaviors.  We avoid anything that has the ability to enrich us for the better.  We attack anything that has the potential to be healthy to our existence.  And eventually, we become so entrenched in privacy and keeping our shame a secret that we self-destruct.

Brown accurately conveyed it when she said: “Shame thrives on secret keeping, and when it comes to secrets, there’s some serious science behind the twelve-step program saying, ‘You’re only as sick as your secrets’” (82).  

“You’re only as sick as your secrets.”  Ouch.

The first step to change—real change—is to sit with your shame and talk to it.  Get to know it.  Then go find your village of trusted people and introduce it to them.  Speak it.  Give it an identity.  Then tell it to fuck off. 

So how did I face my own?  I started writing.  After my mom died, I made a choice and drove myself to change.  Eventually, I started talking about it to my tribe—the people I respect and who have earned the right to sit on my bench.  I became stronger and more of the person I aspired to be because I quit being afraid.  Afraid of failure.  Afraid of disappointment.  Afraid of using my voice.  Afraid of saying no.  Afraid of removing myself from toxic circumstances.  When I learned to embrace vulnerability, my life became significantly better. 

Empathy and understanding are incredible ways to help you overcome your shame.  The authentic version of yourself will emerge and you will know who is committed to you and who is not.  The people who matter will always show you empathy and understanding.  They won’t judge.  They will support your growth.  They will love you unconditionally.  They will sit with you when you falter and they will help you stand back up.

Men and women deal with shame differently—which makes sense because we are biologically hardwired differently.  I can’t speak from the male perspective (obviously).  However, as a woman my greatest struggle is the idea that I must be everything to everyone.  I used to see it as the definition of strength—you can only be a strong, independent woman if you can do all of the things.  And you’re only strong and independent if you don’t need anyone and you execute all of the things perfectly.  At least this is how I used to see strength.  I don’t want to speak for all women, but in the circle I trust and run with, this seems to be the most common sentiment shared.  This is, hands down, the hardest thing I still deal with present day. This is also the most ridiculous belief among women. And what I’ve learned is that being this way makes me more prone to attack those around me, criticize those around me for not being mind-readers, and feeling more empty than necessary.

This is where establishing boundaries saved my life.  Enforcing them is also still an active work-in-progress. Old habits tend to die pretty hard, and I’m also stubborn as hell so sometimes I have to whip out my bad bitch playlist and remember who the fuck I am. I also recognize (finally) that I wasn’t meant to go about life alone—we all need someone with whom we can navigate this life.  Whether it’s a friend, a husband, a wife, etc.  Connectivity makes all of the fear and disappointment life has to offer bearable.  Because there will always be something to fear and there will always be disappointment.  Having real intimacy, authenticity, and vulnerability with someone is truly an existence like no other.

We establish vast collections of things over the course of our life.  But it’s what we do with our collections that increase their longevity or their value.  This also comes with the recognition that all collections weren’t meant to be kept either.  Sometimes we have to part with what feels comfortable and step into discomfort in order to increase our own value. 

And just like Aimee Mann sang about in “Voices Carry”, we should always embrace the voice speaking to us from within. 

— BWT

What happens when people open their hearts?

They get better.
— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

THE RECONSIDERATION

Reconsider (v.) - to consider again especially with a view to changing or reversing.

As the end of the ‘Year of the Dumpster Fire’ has arrived, it would be remiss of me to not share my perspective on 2020.  It was a year for the record books—or my least favorite term—an “unprecedented” year (gag).  After a 17-month-long year, we learned many things.  How to transition from the workplace to the work home.  How to do everything once done in person, virtually.  What not to wear in virtual meeting platforms...or rather, what not to wear from the waist up.  The appropriate lighting for optimal troll factor reduction on virtual meetings.  New ways to punish your children for running in on you in a virtual meeting yelling inappropriate things.  How to wear face panties (ahem—masks) properly.  Normalizing 6-feet apart from all things breathing.  That everyone believes in a pandemic they will need excessive amounts of toilet paper due to the threat of shitting themselves.  How to hoard cleaning supplies.  The appropriate way to walk down aisles at grocery stores.  The benefits of proper hand-washing (this one still blows my mind, but…#humans).  How to maximize the use of your home beyond eating and sleeping quarters.  The real meaning of quarantine.  Just how underpaid teachers truly are.  How ill-equipped we are when trying to teach our spawn how to read or do math (old school method is still best).  How to shop online like a boss and make new friends through the door with USPS and UPS/FedEx delivery people. 

The lessons were vast, and I could keep going.  There were MANY things learned.  But really the point to this particular musing is this:  2020 gave us a lot to reconsider in spite of all of the chaos. 

As with the beginning of every new year, 2020 began with hope and a renewed sense of purpose.  That’s the benefit of New Year’s Eve—drink plenty, purge the bullshit, and rebirth in to a new 365 days on first day of January.  Except 2020 began with wildfires taking out more than 47 million acres of land in Australia.

And then all hell broke loose. 

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle broke up with the royal family.  Brexit.  Locusts.  Harvey Weinstein was sentenced for sex crimes.  Netflix brought us “Tiger King” Joe and “That Bitch” Carole Baskin.  COVID-19 took over the world.  President Trump faced impeachment (and was acquitted).  A global recession was created by “The Rona” and EVERYTHING shut down.  We grew our hair and toenails out.  SBA Payroll Protection Program (I still have PTSD).  Small business failure rates increased in excess of 20%.  Demon sperm.  Kanye West ran for president.  Violent protests around the country. Over 350,000 people died from COVID-19. Murder hornets joined the party.  The magnitude of death:  The “Black Panther” (Chadwick Boseman); Kobe Bryant and his daughter; RBG; Eddie Van Halen; Alex Trebek; John Andretti; Wilford Brimley; Sean Connery; Charlie Daniels; Kirk Douglas; Little Richard; Regis Philbin…so many celebrities.  More wildfires on the U.S. West Coast.  Macaulay Culkin turned 40, certifying that we are all now old.  Ebola.  Aunt Becky went to jail for fraud.  Borat brought us a second cinematic adventure, letting the world know that Rudy Giuliani is a perv.  The Pentagon released UFO videos… (they did?).  Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion brought us WAP…and with that SO MANY acronyms.  And it finally ended with the guy getting his ass beat with a can of Twisted Tea. 

Phew. 

I say some of those things in humor (because some of it did become funny after WWIII began in 2020) and we are forever changed because of the events (and we will forever have a year as an official hashtag).  However, even in the face of adversity and a global shutdown, good things did take place.  Kamala Harris became the first African-American and first Asian woman on a party’s presidential card, ultimately becoming our VP-elect.  The country finally began to see how much racial inequity still exists. Following the murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor, the country brought the discussion to the forefront toward true reform.  SpaceX Crew-1 made its journey to the International Space Station on the first U.S.-made rocket.  A vaccine for COVID-19 was realized in less than one year.  We remembered how to improvise.  People got married.  People had babies.  Our dogs and cats were much more satisfied with their humans being home.  We grew creatively and started new things from scratch.  Tik Tok gave us further validation that people love watching other people (and that we will watch just about anything).  We spent more time with our kids and our loved ones at home.  We went outside again.  We re-connected with people in new ways.  We realized the value of life and the value of those who protect it (thank you, medical community).  Truck drivers really do make the world go ‘round.  Grocery store workers are the invisible heroes.  The drive-in movie theater still has a place in the world.  Gray sweatpants and Yoga pants gave couples something to look forward to each day.  We can use less toilet paper than we think.  Our government created the CARES Act, showing the American people that political parties ARE capable of doing things quickly, together (so let’s work on that, government). We realized that we can do more with less.  

Quite honestly, I think we needed a 2020 for all of us to remember what it means to be human and how important it is to reconsider our lack of connectivity to what matters most in this life. 

Personally, my favorite lesson last year was remembering how to share.  Not just things—but thoughts, space, and time.  Before #2020, life remained in the fast lane.  Wake, eat, shower, rush, work, eat, work more, shuttle children everywhere, eat, remember to workout, shower again, homework, read bedtime book, sleep.  Repeat daily until the end of life is reached.  Little time was being allocated on the things that deeply mattered; things that give us a sense of purpose beyond our day jobs.  Personally, sure…being a parent 24/7 is gratifying most days.  And being a banker helps give me a sense of purpose and the feeling of bringing value to someone’s life outside of my own.  But I craved more…I always did.  I always had things I wanted, but rarely did I allocate time in to doing them.  Outside of my daily scheduled routine which had become my personal “religion”, I fell short on giving time to growing the things that mattered. 

So, what changed that caused me to reconsider my life path (yet again)?  While 2020 could technically be classified as the year for which the introverts of the world had been training, I knew I needed to find ways to remain connected surrounding the isolation that quarantine presented.  I began sharing my time for things that mattered.  I invested in Kevin—who became my husband, defying the notion that life-changing events don’t have to ruin our lives and we can turn tragedy into beauty with the right amount of commitment, communication, and most of all—unconditional love.  I invested in my child.  Even in spite of having to be his school teacher, I’ve been given a closer view of how he best learns and what he is capable of doing; learning more intimately who he is becoming as a person and how to navigate life with him.  I spent more time with my friends by setting virtual meetings, being more connected than we were since high school or college.  I read more.  I journaled more.  Professionally, I gave myself the gift of letting go when things turned toxic and embraced change. When we trust and act as our authentic self in all aspects of our life, we align to the life we need and deserve.  Last year required more patience than ever—around so many things.  But the place I needed to learn it the most was inside the four walls I call home.  (And with most life lessons, patience will always remain my work-in-progress item). 

This is just my version of #2020.  While, overall, last year was a great year for me on a personal level, I know that everyone around me did not experience last year the same.  I’m not naïve and I’m in no way downplaying the real struggles that lie in wait in the presence of quarantine and isolation.  Many people lost something or someone last year—spouses, kids, family members, jobs, businesses, income levels, homes, their sanity.  Last year impacted more than just headlines—it has broken people.  Some for the better; some beyond repair.  When we sit and reconsider things as we lunge in to 2021, my greatest wish is that we, as a country, find a better way to promote mental health in all aspects of life—work and home.  And on an individual level, my hope is that we continue to learn to empower ourselves to share more with those around us—our thoughts, space, and time.  Help those around you feel more connected and less alone somehow.  Use yourself for the good and harvest your individual talents to bring positive light and change for those living in the darkness.  You never know what you could be doing to help someone by sharing a part of yourself with them.  Because the reality is, people who are struggling rarely reach out.  We weren’t meant to navigate life alone.  Even the most independent and “strongest” souls need someone.  Even the most silent ones, too. 

One thing #2020 definitely helped me reconsider—we come in to the world alone and we leave the world alone—but the time we have in between is a choice. 

So this year, reconsider your path and make it matter.        

- BWT

Life always waits for some crisis to occur before revealing itself at its most brilliant.
— Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes