The Real Me Is Truth and Love

When I was younger I thought of destiny  as something nearly within my control.  I thought the path to my destiny would be as clear as the black words on the white paper I used to write down my plans.  Over time I modified my plans for my destiny switching from one box to the next, all the while trying to stay on top of the system, milk it and become "somebody."

It feels as though life may have other plans for me, always has and always will.  Life rarely gives me the things that I expect; that could teach me to accept and appreciate the blessings already offered right in front of my eyes.  I spend too much time wishing for more and not enough time enjoying what is already mine to cherish.

I do take note that there are specific aspects of my destiny that are definitely withing my control.  I control my personal beliefs and the choices I make with them.  I am always in control of my own actions, no one else is responsible for what I think or how I feel.  My mind is an instrument capable of fabricating many fantastic stories, it is always up to me to sort the truth.  I know that the tongue is capable of speaking fables but no matter for the truth is something silent.  Stay on alert for a strange feeling in the air or maybe a tone in the voice of the speaker, it could be a look in the eye or just plain old gut feeling, either way truth is there with me, staring at me wondering when I am going to get a clue.

So life gives me choices and from there I carve out my destiny?  So far it appears to be that way, I notice there is always a choice to make even if both are harmful. The way I see it, destiny chose my family, my race, sex, genetics, country, and drops other little bombs on me throughout my entire life.  I choose what to do with all that I have been given and try to clean up and rebuild after the bombs fall.