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It all starts with our parents;
it all begins with the role-models that we choose early on;
it all grows from the first seed sewn
in the soft ground of our early years
when we are soaking in everything that we see,
and asking what it all meant;
it all falls into place when we hear something
and understand something for the first time, instantly,
and we take it to another level in our mind
until we can no longer contain what we know,
and we feel the need to pass all that we have learned
and the knowledge that we have accumulated on to someone else,
and perhaps even to a completely new and inquisitive generation.

People say that teaching is in the blood,
and I would have to agree;
but I don’t necessarily believe you have to be a teacher
in a school to educate another person-
to me, you have to have the insight and the gift
to show and to make someone, anyone, understand,
and imagine something that before they met you
they were unable or not yet ready to see.

Everyone can be taught;
however, their are some people who don’t want to learn.
The best teacher, the most inspirational
and amazing of guides of knowledge and life
can teach you something without you knowing-
they can encourage you to raise your hand
without you feeling that you have to wait your turn,
they can give you lessons to learn and live by
that you will remember always,
and to you will forever be a blessing.

We all have come to a time in our lives,
when we must take a step back again
and watch while someone who knows more about something than us
has to teach us so that we may better ourselves
for our own benefit, and that of someone we may never know,
or ever meet;
we all feel a great sense of pride in ourselves,
and in our teachers, when we then communicate that wisdom
and enlightenment and see with our own eyes
the moment when a open-minded and willing student
finally raises their head and says ‘I understand’-
for a teacher it just does not get any better than that.

I have been a student, and I have been a teacher.
I will always be the one who seeks out new knowledge,
and I will want to pass the torch of what I hold in my grasp,
even if it is just to one other person at a time,
but with the impact, the energy, the influence,
and the resonance of a public speaker.

We can all be the one who is there
to inspire the mind of someone else;
we can all be the one who is living the dream,
but who is also there to spark the imagination of a fellow dreamer;
we can all be the one who is keeping alive the fire of enthusiasm
in such a way it could never be doused;
we can all be the one who is both the pupil,
while at the same time they are the teacher.

Moving on.
Putting the past behind me.
Thinking about the future.
No regrets.
Feeling hopeful.
Feeling human.

The bouquet of flowers is still in the hotel room,
where it will forever stay.
The moment we left it there and walked away,
what we had was gone, what we built,
and once were able to keep afloat
and sail the waves of uncertainty
was lost at sea-
even though there was a time for us both
that we looked at each other and said we were sure.
What we had was doomed to fail from the first minute,
and it instantly spiraled out of our control,
until we both knew our future together was uncertain.

Everything was good, until it wasn’t.
We could say anything to each other, until we couldn’t.
I never wanted it to end this way, ever-
not in my darkest and intense of nightmares;
I never wanted to feel such pain, ever-
not in the darkest hours of my despair.

This is my way of moving forward.
This is my way of stranding the bad memories that I have,
forgetting about them, leaving them, and sailing away.
This is my way of being rid of the poison in my heart,
and being cured.
This is my way of closing the door for the last time,
and leaving behind forever the forgotten bouquet.

There is nowhere more heavenly than a bookstore,
there is nowhere better than a place where
you are surrounded in every direction by books
by inspired, genius, and amazing writers- who had a thought,
and who then evolved that idea into something transcendental,
that could touch the heart of another human being
and serve as a magic door to far-off worlds,
different realities, understanding why people do what they do.

I just love picking up a book, holding it in my hand,
staring at the cover, thinking about the title,
and flicking through it-
taking in everything about the book
before I think about potentially buying it:
the feel of the pages, the description on the dust-cover,
the “weight” of the book, even though that might sound strange-
sometimes I have bought a book
solely because I saw something inside while I was flicking through
that jumped up at me from a page.

I love being around other writers, young and old;
I love a story, or an author, that I haven’t heard of before;
I love reading a book’s dedication that sounds like pure gold;
I love picking up a new book by an author I already know,
buying their book and being completely in-awe.

A bookstore is my sanctuary.
A bookstore smells more incredible and amazing than anywhere on Earth.
Just being in the company of powerful words incased and bound
and there to be read whenever and wherever anyone feels the need
is invigorating, to me-
when I first walk into a bookstore though,
I always find it hard to come up with an answer to the question:
where should I start first?

I love a forest. I love a library.
I love buying a great book and sharing it with a friend
after I have read every word and found an answer to a question
that I have been searching for.
I love being inspired, and there is no better place to be,
there is no better place to spend your time, and your money,
than discovering a work of art that will continue to inspire you
for years.
There is no place I’d rather be than in a bookstore.

I feel like I have returned from death, returned to life,
I feel like I have been resurrected.
For over a week, I lay helpless in my bed,
as my thoughts and dreams went into overdrive
and manifested into different and varied guises,
colours, textures, and ideas- some that I do not remember entirely,
some that I choose not to recognize.

At some point in our lives,
we all have this urge that appears before our eyes
that tells us to look within and begin a journey to find ourselves;
there are so many schools of thought on the subject
of how to embark on the ultimate journey of identity:
a walk in the woods, a prolonged period of silence
and deep-thought around a fire,
reading a thought-provoking book-
all methods that I would recommend, which have served me in the past.
Being ill, however;
having your body and mind feel like they are turning against you,
feeling like you are locked in a prison cell
with your worst enemy: incapacity.

This new year has not began as I had hoped.
Unfortunately, the normal feeling of euphoria of Christmas
did not carry me over the cusp of New Years Day
with the normal feeling of joy and the smile of happiness on my face.
I felt like I had been struck by lightning
and had fallen from the tallest building in the world
to the hard and unforgiving ground below,
and it all happened so fast,
and I didn’t know exactly what had happened, I didn’t feel a thing.
I was broken. I just wanted to feel better,
and for all that I was feeling and experiencing to come to an end.

No one is a statue. No one is bullet-proof, untouchable,
unfliching of the debris of life,
and everyone is stricken from time-to-time by something
that feels foreign and alien of themselves,
that is not easy to purify ourselves of;
we all must accept that life itself,
and our interactions with what life has in store for us,
is nearly always going to be out of our control.

For the last seven days, I feel like I have been in space-
circling the world, instead of being a part of it;
coccooned in a bubble; fighting to find my way back
to feel well again- almost forgetting what normal
everyday things are that we take for granted:
the taste of food, the feeling of sunlight on my skin,
forgetting me.
Coming back to Earth now, finding my feel on solid ground
after so long of feeling weightless,
I am still regaining my balance,
I am still finding parts of my life to reconnect.

How I am feeling now is better than I was,
and I hope I continue to feel that way.
What I am feeling now makes me think of the memories
and recollections of the astronauts who went into space
and their perspectives of seeing the Earth from so far away,
and how seeing it changed them:
a way of seeing the world, which I see and understand now,
that has been called the “Overview Effect”.

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