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A lot of people in this world do things because they have to,
so many people live a life having to do things-
jobs, commitments, obligations, promises-
that they might not want to do, but they have to do,
to live, to survive, to provide, to save,
so that they can eventually do all the things
that they have been dreaming about doing,
and perhaps no longer have to live the life of a lie.

Most people don’t ask for things these days, they expect them.
Most people don’t understand, haven’t been taught, or have forgotten,
that sometimes to get what you want you may have to give something
first before you get something back-
some people extend their hand involuntarily, always expecting
to shake the tree, and there always be something for them to catch.

If you can do something that you love
and give something at the same time to someone
that they may not and would not ask for,
but they need more than anything,
even if they don’t realize it themselves at the time
they are face to face with you-
that is the most amazing thing you can do in a day,
or in a life-time, because the art of giving
is also the art of sharing,
and the art of creating, making, shaping, translating,
raising, facing, saying, aiding,
at the right time, when someone really needs
what you have to offer freely is an alternative
that you don’t have to choose-
it is something you can just do.

Sharing what you have in abundance, to me, is natural,
and if you can possibly do something, anything,
for someone in need- why would you not want to give all that you can?

Begging is not asking,
asking is not begging.
Sometimes doing something in the moment because you can,
and without even thinking, can be the difference
between seeing someone on the ground looking up at you
and you keeping their heart afloat
and their hopes high and their spirits from sinking.
Giving and giving back without expectation-
that is the difference between asking and begging.

As I look out my bedroom window,
as I watch the wind displace the leaves
as it gusts through the branches of the trees
and makes telephone cables
and power-lines sway from side to side with every blow,
as it seems as if every leaf is now well on the way
to changing colour for the season,
I look down to the street below
and I see a little boy riding his bike
on the pavement outside my house
wearing a big coat and a bobble-hat;
and instantly I feel a wave of something come over me,
as if the winds of time were blowing in unison
with the winds of the world outside, and taking me back
to a time, to an autumn day like this one, when I was a kid-
a time when I loved to play outside with my friends,
and my sister Clare,
and play a ‘catch me if you can-type of game’ called “tag”
in which I never minded being the one who was “it”.

I used to love riding my bike;
I used to love exploring the great place where I lived;
I used to love looking out my window
on a dark, rainy night, and being in awe of the sound of thunder,
and energized by the sight of a lightning-strike;
I used to love playing hide and seek-
and I swear no one could ever find me,
nor think of the right place where I was hid.

I had a very happy childhood;
I had everything a child could ever want;
I had so much love bestowed upon me,
and I was taught so many lessons and I learned so many skills
from my Mum and Dad- from appreciating the value
of the smallest of things, and the briefest of moments,
to the importance of hard work,
and knowing the best way to cut wood.

I remember smiling a lot when I was a child,
I remember laughing, creating, watching,
constantly asking questions, and learning from everyone,
I remember times when I used to sit quietly,
I remember times when I used to run wild,
I remember having so much fun.
I remember the good times, and the bad;
I remember the people I knew and who knew me who just suddenly died,
I remember the times when I had to say goodbye.
I remember all the times when I felt so happy
I thought my heart was going to explode;
I remember the tears that came after a fall,
and the times when I didn’t know what was going on,
and I felt sad.

The world has changed.
I have slowly, but surely, grown up.
The home I have known all my life
feels like a picture that is constantly being reframed.
I am outwardly very different from the boy I was-
from my shoe-size, to my likes and dislikes,
to my hair colour, and hair cut.
Inside I am still the same-
I feel and I know that, even now.
Inside I am under no illusion in my belief
that in everything I do, and to everyone I meet, I make a difference;
I don’t always know why, in what way, or how,
but I do feel, and I have always felt,
like everything that I was doing had a purpose and meant something-
even if I was writing a story, or painting a picture,
even as a child I knew that there was so much more to be seen
than could ever be seen, and that no matter the dark clouds
that sometimes swirled around above your head
there would always be something to have hope for,
that there is always a silver-lining to everything,
and that there would one day be a great,
beautiful, and bright future.

Looking at my own reflection in the glass of my window,
as the sun shines on my face,
I look into my own eyes-
the eyes that have seen thousands of sunrises,
the eyes that have seen so much beauty, hope, and inspiration,
in their time, and which have imprinted on them images
that I will take to the grave,
of sights and faces that nothing could ever erase.
I look at my own reflection,
and I see the boy that I was,
and the joy and the hope in his eyes, in my eyes;
I look at my own reflection, and I see the man who I am,
the boy who I am always going to be,
who still lives in the place, the house, the home,
with the memories he treasures,
and will always remember and return to,
in the middle house of three, on Fair field rise.

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We all need something to tie us to this world,
we all need someone to make us feel like we belong,
we all need someone to hold our hand from time to time
when the air goes cold,
we all need something to keep us listening to life’s song.

One person can be the difference between sadness and happiness,
one person can be the answer to a question
you have been asking all your life,
one person can be the difference between madness and calmness,
one person can be the star that guides you through every night.

One song can elevate existence to another level,
one voice can enhance the pleasures of the universe,
one melody can inspire you to rebel,
one word can free you from the pain of chaos
and stop your life from going in reverse.

We all need the sun,
we all need the moon,
we all need the touch of the one,
we all need the feeling of floating
high in the sky like a balloon.

One person’s presence can send tingles down your spine,
one person’s heart can make you feel alive,
one person’s stare can make you feel divine,
one person’s kiss can taste more sublime
than the most expensive glass of wine,
one person by your side when you need them
who loves you as much as you love them
can be a lifeline.

Someone once said:
“I don’t care what you do, just be profound.
Wherever you go, whatever you say,
give everyone a reason to listen to what you are saying,
and to write your name on the ground.”

If you are an artist,
then create a work of art to spur others on
to create their own masterpiece;
if you are a musician,
compose opus after opus
so that when people listen to your music in their head
they are always at peace.

Always strive for perfection,
even if you believe you will never achieve it-
one persons morning is another persons night-
everything you make and create will find its intended.

Great profundity happens everyday, and nearly always accidentally;
truth comes from repetition, experience, and wisdom;
inspiration comes from a momentary clear view of the connection of all things-
that changes the way you see and think about things fundamentally.

Like everything, perfection’s definition
is always down to interpretation, and personification-
how everyone feels about something is subjective, selective,
based on sensation;
after experiencing a piece of art,
where one person may take offense,
another may feel enriched and overcome with elation.
Music is the same way:
where some may only hear “noise”,
another may be moved to tears by a songs emotion, energy, and poise.

Perfection, to me, is something or someone
that opens your mind and your heart to new possibilities-
something or someone, which or whom, awakens in you new abilities,
and frees you of any and all of your anxieties.
If that is the case, then I can honestly say
that I see and hear perfection everyday
in my family, in my friends, in the people that I adore,
and in the songs that I listen to- which are always on continuous play.

To make a difference in life,
you don’t need money, you don’t need what everyone else has,
you don’t even need to be famous or renowned-
to make a difference in this life,
you need an idea, you need a fully-formed and imagined picture in your head,
of what you want to do;
then you need to give all that you have got to a perfect moment,
and just be profound.

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