I Wasn’t

I wasn’t going to write about it. I wasn’t going to speak about it — not to my friends, not to my co-workers, not to social media, not on my blog.

I wasn’t filled with hope or fear or unity. I wasn’t feeling anything.

I wasn’t going to listen anymore.

I wasn’t going to contribute to the noise.

It’s all the same, every channel, every news source. Why did it happen? Who knows. At the end of the day no one will know except the one. Only the one will ever know and maybe even then — maybe even the one didn’t know why.

So why am I writing about it? Why did I change my mind? Because of 1 news feed item.

As I scrolled through my news feed at the end of my day to decompress, barely registering the hate, the hope, the praise, and the blame, 1 post was different. It caught my attention and I found myself reading the entire lengthy article.

This post didn’t talk about blame or hate or taking something from anyone. It talked very simply about the awful long journey of one grandmother to be with family in Orlando. To attend the funeral of a grandson.

We are Orlando

She was escorted through the airport to a waiting aircraft and then escorted by aircrew to her seat. The flight attendants waited on her and gathered words of condolences from every single passenger on the plane. What started out as a simple kind gesture turned into volumes of paper that was presented to the grandmother upon landing.

I fly a lot and anytime a whole plane stops and waits for one person or a small group of people to leave first is amazing to watch. But this time, this time everyone left before the grandmother and everyone stopped to talk to her, hug her, share her grief and pain, and in the end honor her and by extension her grandson. No one was in a hurry.

This story was the only one (that I remember) where I learned about the grandson, his name, what he did and what he wanted to become. It was a story focused on a victim, a victim’s family, and the people that stopped to help the family.

It was focused on what we should never ever have to focus on — the victim.

Let’s, if we must focus on anything, focus on the 49 plus souls and their families.

It wasn’t about the one — it’s about the 49 plus surviving friends and family.

Let’s focus on supporting the 49 plus — let’s focus on not what was lost, but on who they are and should have been.

Let’s focus on the side effects of hope and strength and the 49+.


The last few months have been interesting. There was a time where I craved to have too much to do. Now,looking at my calendar for the next couple of months, I realized that I have brought that to be. I have more commitments, personal and work, than I have time.

I don’t believe in the adage, be careful what you wish for. I am a big believer that you bring into your life what you want and need, but if you’re not paying attention then what you bring into your life can be off kilter or down right bad. You plateau, you stagnate, you run into one obstacle after another.

A few years ago, more than I care to admit to, I gradually stopped paying attention. I went numb and let life push me wherever it wanted to. I didn’t focus on my internal well being, desires, or goals. Superficially, I did. Consciously, I thought the correct things, did the right things, be who society and work and life expected of me.

A couple years back, I made some radical changes in my life. I took stock of my personal and professional life and it dawned on me that I was not anywhere near where I had planned to be at this point in my life.

My life is completely different from 2 years ago — heck, it’s completely different than it was even 1 year ago.

ReflectionsJersey | Writing Rants


What changed? Me, I started paying attention again.

As I sit on my patio in the cool sunset of the evening and reflect where I was, what I have been through, where I am, and where I want to go, I realize that the major starting point to this current place is me.

My life starting evolving the moment I realized that I was content.For me content is no happy. It’s an excuse not to challenge myself to grow.

I started to meditate again. I grew calm and still and thought about all those plans I made in grade school, in high school, in the Air Force. I read books and theories and wondered where I had gone wrong. Why did I zig when clearly I should have zagged?

To me, the path was muddled because I stopped thinking, stopped dreaming, stopped mediating, stopped …

As I take a look around me, where I am, what I’m doing, it is coming together. The pieces of the puzzle are there, some are fitting together. There’s still a couple holes there, but overall the picture is getting built and becoming clear.

All I had to do was actively think about it, meditate about it, and let the universe find the scattered pieces and bring them to my table.