Dreams Without a Plan

I have been given alot of advice recently in regards to taking steps in to my unknown future. I have been been told I need to look internally and make changes in my self before anything good will happen outwardly. I have been told I need to focus on exactly what I want in the future so that I will bring those things to my present. I have been told to explore all of my interests and pursue those things, and that is where the future lies. I have been told to step back and watch my thoughts and emotions go by and examine what they mean and do. I have come to realize that I am the keeper of me. I am the designer of my future and the future of my children and family. What do I want to build? How do I build it? What have I built so far?
   I built my present out of the "plan of necessity." My original plan was built of dreams. I dreamed of a life fighting crime and solving mysteries. I dreamed without a plan to get there. I dreamed of being there, without thought of How I was going to get there. I did not prepare my mind, body or soul for the journey, the arrival nor the failure to execute the dream. It was a staunch reminder that I lacked the tools of knowledge to build the paths to my dreams. I eventually gave up on the dream of FBI and profiling, and mystery solving. I stopped dreaming. I felt like I was in a giant ocean treading water. As I started to learn about finances, and bills I realized I had very few skills needed to get a "successful" job. I wanted to be rich, partly to prove I was as good at life as I had thought I was, and to be able to help others in a way I could not; all I had was my time to give others and that was in short supply. As I treaded water in the sea of life, things floated by that I grabbed a hold of. Each thing that floated by, and I grabbed a hold of, taught me something. I finally came upon something big enough to pull me out of the water. I couldn't let it float past me. I was exhausted from the search and the treading water. This boat was nursing school. It brought to where I am today. A good job, with benefits, that requires skill and knowledge. Four years have passed, and now I am tired of being on this floating boat in the middle of the ocean. Being on this boat was not a dream it was a necessity. I'm still one wave away from being in the ocean again; this time with my kids, which is an even scarier prospect. Now when I dream it is scattered and without sincerity. I can't tell the difference between the dreams of being off this boat, and the dreams of me. They are all jumbled together.
    I still dream of being rich, not as much to prove something, and more to be able to have the means to help people in a way that I cannot right now.

The Secure Space

I continue to write my thoughts, but I am glaringly aware of my lack of contact with the outside world. I am not a "networker" of any sort, nor have I been an action person with regards to anything outside of my immediate family. I am sensing I will need to step out of my secure space to fulfill a need to help others, or make a change that affects more than those close to me. Even as I write this I know the only ones that will read this are family members. The bridge that needs to be built to get outside this secure area. At this time I do not know what the first step to take is. I will continue to write and hopefully it will become clearer.

The Aches of a Nation

As I continue to learn about the plights of people around the world less fortunate than myself here are some of the things I have discovered. There are rape kits across the nation that are not being processed. There are small police departments who do not have the funds, expertise, tools or man power to collect evidence from a crime scene. I also learned there is a great need to rebuild the the nations of Native America. They as a people continue to be neglected and misunderstood by the American public, and abused and destroyed by the US government. There are great groups already in place working hard to help these issues. It is hard to tell at this time if these issues are where I need to focus my energy. I also don't know yet how I could be of help. They are both large multi- faceted problems which require a variety of changes and accommodations to take place. I will continue to explore and learn.

The Old Lady

It was a crisp cool day in November. The sun was shining, but the air was cold and biting. The leaves that remained on the branches, still clinging to Autumn, were almost all turned yellow and red, but they were still there on the tree limbs. I was walking down the sidewalk on  a quiet street lined with trees and townhomes, headed into town for lunch.
I saw an elderly woman walking slowly up ahead of me a ways. I drifted off into thought for a few minutes.
I came back to reality as I got closer to the old woman. I did not want to startle her so I slowed my pace a little bit. She was carrying a blue reusable grocery bag, and a little brown purse in the crook of her right elbow. She wore a nice navy blue peacoat and white pants. I continued my slow pace behind her. As we approached the next grouping of townhomes, I looked up at them. They were brown with small windows upstairs and down. There was a little porch for each one, and a small concrete walkway that cut straight to the sidewalk. As we approached the first walkway the old lady turned and shuffled onto the concrete walkway. She glanced up towards me and made eye contact with me. I guess she could hear me behind her.
All of the sudden she let out a loud cry!
AHHH!.
OWW!
She gripped her elbow, and held it tight against her. She looked up at me as I trotted up to her. "What happened?" I asked....trying to assess the situation.
"Oh my elbow, it slipped out of socket!" She said. She moved her hand away from her elbow. Even through the thick blue peacoat, I could see the arm extend a little too far down at the bend of her elbow.
"Let me help you with your bags." I said.
She let me gently pull her bags off her arm. She shuffled up the step to her door, and with her left hand she fished around in her pocket and found her house keys. She got the door open and we stepped inside.
It was a small place. The entrance to the stairs was right in front of me. To my left was two closed doors and to my right was the living room. The old lady shuffled into the living room past the couch to the chair that was already pulled out at the table. There was an old man on the couch. He was dressed in a suit and his head was resting on a pillow on the arm of the couch. He had a black hat on and it was pulled down over his eyes.
"You just put those bags on the floor there."
She pointed to kitchen floor just around the corner of the room. I walked the bags over, trying to be quiet for her napping husband.
I turned toward her and said "do you want me to call an ambulance for you?"
She shook her her head, no. "If you could just help me get my coat off, that will do just fine."
I walked up to her with my back to the old man asleep on the couch. I was helping her stand up from her chair, when I felt something behind me. I turned around and the old man was standing behind me; towering over me by a solid foot. I gasped and started to apologize for waking him, when I realized he was not old. I stared at him for a few seconds as my thoughts started to process what was happening, and the fear started to rise in my throat.
My mind started to race through a million thoughts trying to reason with myself and calm the panic I was starting to feel. I continued to stare at him, unsure of what to say. My mouth was dry, I could feel my fingertips tingling with fear.
"I...I.........I am s..sorry I woke you up" I stammered. My voice cracking a little as I tried to get the words out.
He said nothing. He didn't move. He was standing so close to me I could feel the exhales of his breath through his nose. His were still cold, his face was emotionless.
I tried to step back and felt my leg hit the chair behind me. I finally remembered the old lady and slowly turned to look at her.
She was still old. She stood there with a slight smirk in her face, at least I think it was a smirk. She was still holding her elbow as if it hurt, but she didn't say anything.
"Is this your son?" I asked. My voice shaking a little. "What is going on?" "I should get going." The words were tumbling out of my mouth as a sinking realization started to wash over me.
I look at the man, then back to the old lady. I see the flash of the knife in the man's hand. I felt the knife sink into my gut.

I step aside and look at me standing there. This is how that life ended. I had wondered if the answers were in the moments leading up to my death, or if I would have to work backwards from here. I took another step away from the man. I am happy he can't see me this time. I watch my body slump to the floor. I write down a few notes in my notebook.
I step out of the townhouse. I take a deep breath. I hated the cold air for lifetimes after this. I hated to shiver, as if that was what led me inside the townhouse. I start to walk back up the  street. The portal to the next life I am studying is ready.

Traffic n Poop

My family and I are back from another mini VayCay. This time around we went to Palm Springs, and stayed at the Embassy Suites. The drive down however was a piece of work in and of itself. We had 203 miles to travel to get to our destination. We figured with traffic maybe 5 hours. So we load the car and head for the freeway. Meanwhile in the middle of California there was a major mudslide that shut down I-5; the major travel artery into the Los Angeles basin. It had been shut down for a whole day at this point, and all of the truck (and car) traffic had been rerouted to 101 to get to L.A.
  So we cruise up the road heading to the on-ramp, impressed that the accident that was here 30 minutes ago has already been cleared! We fly down the on ramp only to see that traffic had already screeched to a halt. We creep through our little city for over an hour! It was seriously The. Longest. Hour. Ever. As we moved on outside the city limits it finally cleared a little bit. We moved along for the next 20 or 30 minutes tops until we came to a stop again. I checked my phone (since I wasn't moving) and saw that the 101 freeway was closed! I am pretty sure I was the ONLY person who knew this important morsel of info. And then the kids and the hubby woke up. They were shocked and dismayed that they had been asleep for almost 2 hours and we were barely 45 miles from our start point. My youngest son was the first one to start. Mom, I have to poop really bad! Really bad mom! I have to go sssoooooo bad. So off the freeway we went in hunt of a bathroom. 15 minutes later we are back on the freeway sitting in traffic. We finally got to the junction off the 101, and actually cruised along at 50 mph for awhile. As soon as we moved onto the 210 we came to a baby crawl speed again. And we crawled for a couple more hours. Again my littlest one: mom I have to poop so bad again! Please stop I have to go poop! So off the freeway we go again. Now everyone is hungry, grumpy and tired. The hubby grabs some snacks, which includes 2 chocolate shakes. Ugh. Purchased while I was with the pooper of course. Back in the car, back on the road. A few minutes of happy silence goes by, until I hear the little one: oh no! My shake!! The hubs turns around to see my little one with milkshake down his side and into his car seat. Now he is crying because he doesn't want to sit in shake. I honestly couldn't  blame him. He finally realizes he is gonna be sitting in it for awhile, and got over it. We finally resorted to bribery with our oldest because this was not our shining moment as parents. He would earn himself 20 bucks in exchange for silence. It worked for awhile, but apparently when your not talking your thinking. And he was thinking about how long we had been in the car, and how much pool time he was missing. This was devastating to him and he ended up bawling in the back seat, as I tried to convince him for the 80th time that "we are almost there". His little brother tried to comfort him for a minute, but even he was annoyed. He started with " its OK brother " to "why you still cry? Can you stop now?" As we reached the 8th hour of our 3.5 hour trip we were all glad to be distracted by the lightening show that was on display in the desert sky. The traffic had cleared up, and of course we missed our exit to last leg of our journey. So we took the next exit and followed our Google maps directions to take us the long way through the city to get back on the highway to take us to our destination. Of course is started downpouring, so we couldn't read the road signs, but we made it finally to our mini VayCay.

Gardening in Life

As I continue to sort through ideas and dreams of me, I have unearthed some interesting finds. My love of horses never ended. I feel the land we live in is corrupt, and deviating from the paved road could ultimately and quickly end in death or worse, suffering. Not just me but my kids. I want to promote a life of happiness, but I am finding the paved road doesn't always allow for this. Can I find a dirt road that runs along side the main road? I am not prepared, nor do I want to wander off into the jungle of life in the complete unknown, and drag my children with me; only to find more evil hiding in the depths of the trees and plants. I continue to stare at my phone as if Google will actually have an answer for me. Though Google has armed me with knowledge that I would not otherwise have. Is my life path about fighting? Or learning? Or educating? Or helping? Or changing? To take on all of them feels daunting. I want all of these to start with my children. I need to be with them not just around them. I need to teach them not just show them. I want to play with them not just watch them. I will plant this seed and cultivate it with time and energy. I need this for me too, and my inner me, too. This seed has been planted but not cultivated properly. I need to learn the art of cultivation. I feel like I'm back at the beginning. Frustrated because I don't have the time, too many bills to quit my job, not enough money to provide experiences for my kids, that I don't have the time to provide. There must be a gardening step in here somewhere that I am missing, either that or I'm trying to over water the violet and starve the rhododendron. I guess before I plant seeds and cultivate stuff, I need to figure out what seeds I'm planting and what they need to grow. And I can't plant desert seeds right next to rainforest seeds. I'm so lost in the gardening world right now; I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. This is #frinkenomics101

The Bridge

I went to visit my soul last night. I brought supplies with me this time. I am not sure yet what I am doing, but I decided to build a bridge to the other side of the water. I do not know how to build a bridge, nor do I know what supplies I need. I brought with me every type of building supply, and every tool I could find. I unloaded everything onto the shore of the water. I looked across the water searching for my soul on the other side. I stood still, my eyes searching the trees, the hills and the waters edge. She finally appeared at the edge of the trees. I realized then that I was holding my breath as I waited. My soul smiled and waved to me. My soul has not smiled for many moons. I held up all of my tools and supplies for her to see. I could see her gently laughing. I looked at the dirt at my feet. Then I looked at the pile of wood, nails, cement, rebar, pipes, and tools. I started to feel overwhelmed, and frustrated. I grabbed a shovel and started digging. It felt good to be doing something. Even if that was not what was needed. I continued to dig until I had a deep hole in front of me. I picked up a piece of wood and stuck it into the hole, and filled the hole back up with dirt around the wood. I looked across the water and saw my soul had been doing the same thing. She had dug a hole, but she had put a flowering tree in the hole. She was gathering water to give the tree. Its flowers  were were bright and vivid against the dark grey background. I looked down at my wooden stake, firmly planted in the ground and burst out laughing. My soul even without words,  across an entire body of water, was able to tell me so much. Planning is needed to build something useful. It is important to cultivate the beauty of things around me. Do not act so hastily. Love what I do, as well as the outcome. I stood staring for a long time at the beauty of the tree she had planted. I left my stake in the ground. I waved farewell to my soul. I will be back soon and try again to build the bridge to my soul.

This is not humor

I have to say this: This picture in one lone frame, has captured many of the issues we have as a society and the outcome as well. Who raised the child; who became the man; who calls himself SoFloAntonio? Did they raise him to believe this is humorous? Who raised the woman in the photo? Was she not taught to not lie, or cheat? Was she not raised to understand the consequences of her actions? Who raised the photographer/videographer that took this picture? What were they trying to convey in this photo? Here is what I see: a little boy waiting for his dad, and doesn't know his home is about to become broken. A young mother who will be raising her second child alone. A woman overwhelmed with emotion as she waits. A man saluting, as he waits and tries to keep his composure. I don't see anything funny at all in this photo.

The wind and the water

I went to the waters edge again. I could see my soul on the other side of the lake. She is my sister, whom I have not conversed with for many years. She is my mother who passed away when I was too young to understand. She sat at the waters edge, running her fingers through the water. I did not tell her I was here. It upsets her that I am so far away. I gather my thoughts and go back to reality. My heart is burdened by her sadness. I must go see her in the daylight. As I step back into reality, I am hit with a sharp wind. It marks a cold path in front of me. I am cold and aware of every goosebump. It feels good to know I am still here. The cold air can only be felt here. I look around me, and I see people walking with importance, talking with important people. They are dressed with confidence, and skill. I blink my eyes and look again. I no longer see people; now I see wounded souls. I look at my hands; I look down at my feet. I am still just me. It's time to go see my children. I can feel my soul smiling from across the lake. I think to myself, Cheers to a great day soul.

The dreams of me

As I continue to hunt for my hearts content aside from my sweet family of course; I have stumbled across a thought or two. If I want to act as a detective, or do crime scene tech stuff, why not just do it myself? The other thought I had was I will write all of my dreams as if they were reality.

What to Do part 2

I have been struggling with the notion that what I do for a living is not truly what I love doing. This has become more clear to me as I try to define for myself what "I would love to do". What do I love? Am I so far away from my dreams that I can't even name something I love? Let's be clear that when I say "something" I am simply referring to an interest/hobby/passion. I remember dreaming as a child that I wanted to be a horseback rider, as I got a little older I wanted to become a detective. At this point in my life those dreams are definitely furthest from becoming a reality. I've had a lot of dreams since then, and I have done well in pursuing them, but the excessive success did not become reality fast enough for my young self. As I sit here today, even those dreams are pretty far away. All of my previous pursuits would require a redo from the gate, because all licenses expire. I feel like I need to dream up a new dream, but the pressure is exorbitant!! I am stressing myself out trying to come up with a dream! That is how far away from my souls passion I am. I have asked for a little guidance in this area. DREAM BIG OPTION 1 If I had all the money world, what would I be doing tomorrow instead of getting up at 5:30am and going to work? I would be taking my kids on a learning adventure. Let's back up. First I would go outside breathe in some fresh air as I looked out over the expanse of my land. I would exercise in my own home, THEN I would take my kids on an adventure. Hmmm..OK so the next day. I ,................,......don't know. I can only see work. Except for my investing ideas. I imagine I have a variety of business investments, that all bring in money. I don't have to "work" at anything. I can do that. The "how" has always stopped me. You need money to make money, at least that's how it feels. That can't be true. I need to find a way to do that.

Crime Scene Teams

I'm writing this without having current statistics, just knowledge from previous information. When a crime is committed in a large city, there a resources in place to process the crime scene, pay for the evidence to be ran through a forensics lab, computer techs to take info out of electronics, etc. The cost of having these specialties available costs money. In large cities, there is more crime, and more opportunity to utilize these tools. Small towns, poor counties don't have these tools available to them. Every police officer is trained in crime scene/evidence collection, but if a town only sees a murder every 6 years that doesn't offer very much practice to the officers. The cost of sending evidence to an independent lab is high. There is a backlog of evidence waiting to be processed. At this time I'm not even sure how the independent labs decide which evidence is run first. It could be first come, first serve. Or there could be monetary based decisions, or they at the lab have a triage of sorts to separate cases into priority. The people in these independent labs are not the ones that collected it, and I do not know if they testify in court as expert witnesses or not. I do know there is no national database of unsolved crimes or murders. Some states have databases. What I would like to offer is teams of crime scene techs who would travel upon request of a department to the scene and process it. Taking all microscopic evidence with them back to the lab to process. The process would be free to the department or possibly a flat fee that is reasonable. The question is would police departments utilize this if they had it available to them?

Crazytown USA

In the wake of yet another shooting, I find myself filled with a wide variety of emotions, ranging from anger, sadness, embarrassment, fear, anxiety and frustration. The shooting, and all other deaths at the hands of evil bring up the argument of gun control. I believe that it is the mentality that our nation carries that gives people power to kill without thought or remorse. Take the guns away, and they will be replaced with a different means of killing people. To change the mentality of an entire nation is a steep challenge. There are so many factors that play into the current mindset of the average American, that it feels like a uphill battle. We need to realize it is not just the school shooting; its the police shootings, the bomb threats, the deaths of children at the hands of their parents, neighbors, strangers. The random acts of violence throughout the country is terrifying. I know that I for one, have done nothing to stop it. Nor have I done anything to perpetuate it. I stand idly by, praying that, I nor my family becomes a victim to the senseless violence. There are many people like me. I have much respect for the people who are rallying for gun Rights on both sides of the argument. But taking away the guns isn't going to heal the mind.