Dear Me from 4 years ago,

I know you weren’t thinking about winning the election. You weren’t a good enough candidate, and you had no experience. At least that’s how you saw the race. And your political party had not held a seat on the township board for years; correction, make that decades. In fact, they normally did not even run candidates for those township positions. Yes, I can see why you didn’t think enough of yourself to unseat an incumbent from the board.

Getting on the ballot was easier than you thought. You had the support from members of a local women’s group who helped get the 250 signatures you needed. But you knew getting your name on a ballot and winning a race against incumbents are two very different things. In your mind, you cast yourself as the underdog, and perhaps you were.

You ordered campaign literature and yard signs. Facebook posts and ads explained your views and positions. That was the simple part of the campaign. You wondered if you were good enough to hold your own at the candidate’s public forum. It was a good sign when opponents started agreeing with some of your talking points by the end of the forum.

Your confidence was growing until you tried to get an endorsement from a US House member. She told you in no uncertain terms that you were not running a serious enough campaign. Sorry, but she wouldn’t endorse you. I know that hurt, but it also steeled your resolve. You were no longer just running against some incumbent township board candidates, but you were running against the opinion of a sitting US Congresswoman who didn’t think your campaign effort was enough. You responded by working harder and smarter.

Sadly, it turned out that your campaign actually wasn’t good enough to get the most votes. You were not even close. You didn’t finish in second either. So close to third, but you fell short. Fortunately, four members serve on the board, and you finished comfortably fourth in the voting. Welcome to an elected office.

Here we are four years later, and you are now me, starting my second term in office on the township board after receiving the most votes of all candidates in the election two months ago. Discussions have begun about running for a county board position in 2028. Do I have enough in me to win? I think I just might this time.

Regards,
Me from today

My body weight presses down upon you,
Pushing you under the water,
But you do not protest.
You do not fight back,
Although movement consumes you,
As you rock to and fro.
Seconds pass,
Turning into minutes.
Still, you move,
As I sit atop you,
Readying myself for our aqueous pas de deux,
While nearby witnesses idle by,
Paying little heed to our commingling.
I have no regrets
Being seen with you,
Mostly by water fowl near shore.
Oh, my kayak,
How I love riding the water
On top of your rotomolded plastic form.
My love for you cannot be kept secret,
Thanks to your neon lime green color
That is visible from space.
It eliminates any chance of a clandestine paddle,
When we are as one on the water.
You take such care of me,
Bravely protecting my bottom,
As you scratch and ding yours
On submerged rocks and branches.
You warn me with a metal placard
Riveted to your green skin
Of a 225 lb. max weight capacity.
Is that because of concern
That the extra pounds I carry
May result in health-related issues for me,
Like diabetes and high cholesterol?
Or is that a federally mandated requirement
For water craft to display?
I hope the former
And blush at your thoughtfulness.
When I first saw you,
Your charms were impossible to resist,
Especially your ability
To fit into my SUV
With the seats folded flat,
Saving me the cost of a roof carrier.
Always thinking of me,
Aren’t you?
You remain constantly on my mind,
As you are visible from our family room window,
Sitting idly under our pergola
That was once used for entertaining,
But now is repurposed for kayak storage,
Much to my wife’s displeasure.
What she doesn’t realize is that seeing you
Inspires me to slide my ample posterior
Into your inviting lime hull
For a workout on the river
To shed pounds like you shed water.
Well, perhaps not pounds but ounces.
Okay, would you believe one ounce,
If I paddle really hard?
That maximum weight capacity may be reached
Someday in the future.
But thanks to you, my kayak,
Not today.
I dip my paddle
And steal away across the water
With my love.

Dear Writing,

When you came into my life in a new way seven years ago, I didn’t know then that it would be the love I wanted and needed. We became acquainted again thanks to a mother figure who showed me how glorious and attractive you are; inside and out.

My eyes became new when I saw you through her testimonies and words. Sadly, she would stop showing you around because her life became busy. Months passed by, and I kept hoping that she would show you around again, but there was something about you that kept calling me.

After wrestling with these new feelings, a lightbulb finally went off in my head to speak to you myself. When I started talking, you talked back with emphasis and enthusiasm. You allowed me to be a part of your home. You even introduced me to many people who would enrich my life in ways I couldn’t imagine.

Even though I would quickly become addicted to you, even over text you, it didn’t scare you off. If anything, you encouraged me to speak to you more, even at midnight. I’m terrible at saying the L word, but I hope I show my love for you and all you’ve done for me during our run together.

Your presence has given me the vitamins needed to thrive every day. Because of you, I have a much clearer vision of my creativity inside me. Without you, my life would be dramatically different in the last several years. I wish I had seen you in this light many years ago, but I guess I needed to do some discovering to find you.

I could thank you a billion times and it still wouldn’t be enough. When I read pieces from other writers who share their love for you, I truly get it. So, thank you, writing. I salute you, and I’ll keep honoring you for eternity.

Sincerely,

Gerald

Dear Fear,

I immediately regret using a cordial word like ‘dear’ in my greeting. I have zero friendly feelings toward you. You freeze us in our tracks. Fear, you are a giant speed bump on the roads we take to self-actualization. You keep us from getting close enough to the people who need us, as well as those who can help us overcome you.

Choosing one fear to write about in an uncertain world full of trepidation is difficult. I reject some of the bigger and darker fears that people have. Death doesn’t scare me. I can’t summon up fear for a one-time event that is inevitable for us all. It will happen. It’s all of humanity’s destiny. And once it happens, it’s possible we’re not even going to know or care. It’ll be over, and our book of life, at least in this realm, will be closed.

Fear of failure is a popular choice of many, but I’ve never feared failure. Perhaps I’ve fallen short so many times that I’ve become inured to failing. I’ve always believed that if you’re not failing, you’re not trying enough. So, come at me, failure, and I will give you a great big hug.

Way back in 1974, Jim Stafford had a Billboard-charting song titled “Spiders and Snakes” in which Stafford sings of his dislike of the title creatures. They perfectly describe you, my fear. I don’t literally mean creepy, crawly spiders and slithering snakes, although I will admit that coming across a hairy spider in the basement or a snake ready to nip at my ankles in the garden are not my favorite experiences. Maybe if I lived in Australia, where most living creatures are ready, willing, and able to kill humans without any provocation, actual spiders and snakes may scare me. But I live in the USA’s Midwest. Most spiders and snakes I encounter are benign and harmless, except for the figurative ones.

I’m referring to “spiders” like:
“It’s going to take too long.”
“I’m not creative enough to come up with ideas.”
“I don’t have the skills to do that.”

And to “snakes” like:
“I just don’t have the time.”
“I’ve never tried that before.”
“I don’t know how.”

I fear falling prey to those “spiders and snakes” far more than a hairy spider crawling toward me while I’m sitting in the bathroom or turning over a garden rock to find a snake. I much prefer a small bite that will surely heal (again, I’m in the US Midwest and not Australia where almost every living creature is poisonous) to the crippling power of the metaphorical “spiders and snakes” that can stop our lives dead in our tracks with fear. I always try to be kind to animals, but I have no qualms about squishing my symbolic spiders in a tissue of determination or whacking my figurative snakes with a club of resolve. I hope PETA will cut me some slack and look the other way as I dispatch the imaginary creatures representing my actual fears.

And so, I have eschewed fears of death, failure, shark attacks, tornadoes, IRS audits, time share contracts, and buying life insurance, and I have settled on the ever-present metaphorical spiders and snakes in my life as my greatest fear. I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but you can always count on me to sing along unabashedly with Jim Stafford, proclaiming to the world that we both don’t like spiders and snakes.

With great disregard,

88% Style Score

Martial Arts. I’m not sure if I have mentioned this lately, but you mean absolutely everything to me.

As well as for many others, ever since I was a young child, you have always drawn me in. My love for you has only grown. Flourished honestly, and continues to do so.

I have prepared for much of life through your lessons. How to be relaxed, yet focused. To be confident, yet humble. When it is necessary to apply whichever trait needed. How to adapt, then flow. You supply a sensation no other activity or interest could replicate… at least for me.

When I am in motion, I feel whole. As if I am gliding. I tune and sync my entire being. To be a demonstration of the most sacred dance. A participant in the most serious play.

You are where I belong, where I feel at home. Regardless of any other interest I have or skill I have developed, you are my core. You resonate in my being. As a child, teenager, young man, and perhaps now more than ever, when I envision myself, I see you. You are who I am and always wanted to be. Thank you for always helping me find myself. For teaching me how to strengthen and defend my mind, body, and soul.

SO…. From the DEEPEST, PUREST, MOST GRACIOUS PART OF MY SOUL! Thank You So Much! Thank you for always being here.

With only Love, Respect, & Gratitude

From your Eternal Disciple,

Daniel Gualajara

Style Score: 100%

What I’m most afraid of is to finally step into my L(I)GHT and feel at a loss. The thought of living by/through SO(U)L only to be without the things I visualized making it through with me-without the people I imagined being a part of my life and a part of the process of my becoming. Sometimes the thought of having no control of the variables other than yourself throughout the transformation is enough to keep you where you are, the place you desire to leave most. Numerous times there have been where I desired for SO(U)L to take over, the ego being the great decider of whether or not to fly from the nest to experience the great beyond, or to remain in the nest, protected by a false sense of security, left only to imagine what could’ve been. What would’ve been. I know what it is that I truly desire-contentment in my life, peace, happiness. It’s what we all truly want, I should say. That contentment, that peace, that happiness, is beyond achievable, but only if a place is provided for its existence. Throughout 2024 I thought I had it all figured out: “Do me, and I can’t lose.” But that’s not what I experienced when I began to consciously act through SO(U)L. I experienced the cost of my “freedom”-criticism from the one I loved and respected most. It was the deepest feeling of disappointment I’ve ever known besides that of the lies encountered from the adults in my life as a kid. My eyes, my heart, want only to see all around me being elevated and living life in its fullest and truest expression, but I’m met with criticism when I decide to do the very same thing for myself. I’ve stumbled, and stumbled, and stumbled, my knees craving freedom from the weighted burdens of others in which I’ve placed upon my shoulders. After falling so many times, I rise once more, brushing the debris off my bodice and, rather than throwing in the towel, I advance forward. Once having the idea that L(I)FE’S marathon could only be won at a full sprint, I finally decided to shift to a lower gear, continuously advancing forward step-by-step. Step-by-step I continue to inch closer to the L(I)GHT. The comfort I once knew attempts to call me back, threatening me of what it is to be lost in attempting to obtain the sun; comfort is on my list of blocked contacts. IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S ME. I gotta’ move on because if I stay with you, I lose; I gotta’ go because if I don’t, I reject L(I)FE ITSELF; I gotta go because if I don’t, I won’t ever truly be satisfied with this EX(I)STENCE. So fear, you don’t ever have to leave me, you don’t have to go-allow me to do that for you. If I happen to disappoint you by making myself proud, so be it.

Hours fading while my desire continues commiserating

I will wipe away the cobwebs in my mind to see what I might find

Putting down the phone to discover the unbeknown

Facing a challenge of the heart, mind, and soul, that is how I’ll roll

They say that it’s too late for you, but that won’t change what I’ll do

There is no substitute for hard work, will, and a positive attitude

Write, write, and write some more, that is the only solution for sure

Rejection is the expected, but it will not get me dejected

Need to secure an agent, though I will need to be patient

Win a contest or two, feedback will help me get a clue

Land a million-dollar fee, they don’t know I’d do it for free

I’ll even try to write a poem and maybe take my first award home

For 25′ I want to be AL(I)VE;
AL(I)VE in my fullest expression without self-suppression;
In 24′ I learned a great many lessons;
I was hesitant to embrace SO(U)L and L(I)GHT and as a result I was the culprit behind the robberies of my opportunities and blessings;

I left things undone, continuously making a bigger mess;
Yet I accomplished , more or less, just not at the level that I desired;
At times I questioned whether or not I was equipped with enough willpower because I often found myself dropping the ball when it mattered most;

A light shines bright inside that EYE was blind to too, not just the ones EYE wanted to really see me;

But how could EYE expect others to see me if I didn’t fully utilize the courage to truly be me;

L(I)FE starts through a single spark;
From a spark I came and a spark I AM;
I desire to know what it means to be AL(I)VE in 25′;
I no longer want to hide what’s (I)NSIDE;
So that spark within, that spark that I AM, I set ablaze until my entire being is engulfed in flame;

My only goal in 25′ and in L(I)FE is to experience the L(I)GHT that fills my world when I choose to shine

What is a book?
Is it just a collection of letters,
Sorted into words,
Arranged into sentences,
Grouped into paragraphs,
Bundled into chapters,
Bound together by a central theme?
If that’s the case,
Then I’ve written a book.
A couple, actually.
But it doesn’t feel like it.
My books are digital only.
That’s the way to go these days,
Isn’t it?
Print is dead, right?
Then why do I feel as if
I have NOT written a book?
Maybe I’m just being foolish,
But I want more.
I want my book to occupy space
On my bookshelf
Next to the fireplace.
I want to be able to read the title and my name
On the spine of the book as it is
Nestled in the bookshelf,
Uncomfortably squeezed literally and literarily
Between classics like Ulysses and Moby Dick.
I want to physically hold the book
And curl up in a comfy chair with it.
I want to riffle through the pages,
Creating a breeze I can feel on my face.
I want the tactile experience of the printed word,
As I rub a page between my thumb and forefinger.
I want a book that can be ruined
Should a page be torn from it.
I want a book that has some staying power,
Whether on a shelf or in a storage box gathering dust,
While the owners forget what’s inside.
I no longer want my book to be only a digital file
That can be deleted with a click on a trash bin icon
Or lost forever at the next hard drive crash.
I want a sense of permanence for my book.
At least I want it to outlast me.
Perhaps this may be a flight of vanity.
I prefer to think of it more as a legacy
That proves I was here,
That I had thoughts,
And that I recorded them for posterity.
For those reasons and others,
I will publish a book in print this year.
I will riffle the pages
And breathe in the smell of the newly printed paper.
Then I will place my book on my bookshelf.

Hey… You have to go. You can’t be here anymore. I never welcomed nor invited you, but somehow you always sneak in while piggybacking insecurities (you can tell him to stay home as well). You’ve failed to add anything besides the feeling of inadequacy. You’re nothing but a leech to my soul. A slow, silent, soft, yet sharp suicide. I recall a substantial amount of sleepless nights you have caused by heaving my heartbeat. Each pulse was as deafening as the last. No more. I’ll allow this NO MORE! I can’t and I won’t! My future career, relationships, and self-esteem depends on it! Everything important to me depends on it! You have benefitted nobody! I have risen to occasions plenty of times and you make me forget what I have already accomplished. Somehow, you seep in and fog my memory with self-doubt. This relationship is over. It’s DONE! Leave me and my family alone! I have found power in scriptures, power in positive thinking, and power in preparation! There is no leeway for you to elbow your way in anymore! I am fed up with you! You are intolerable! I will no longer allow you in my proximity! You know what? You don’t even have to go anywhere. I’M LEAVING. You can stay right where you are you soon to be “stranger”. I’m out of here. It was horrible knowing you.
Peace.
(Style Score: 100 %)

This time, for 2025,
I’m bold enough to dream
and water the seeds
I’ve been planting for 27 years.

I’ll make a faultless plan,
calibrate the stars to align again and again
like I’ve been hoping for.

I’ll make that meal plan, hit the gym, and drink less
because everyone told me I can, until I regress
and think of her again.

I’ll write that novel that I’ve sworn I’d finish,
half sprouted and waiting on ideas to flourish
out of my overworked and overwhelmed heart.

This time, for 2025,
I’ll keep my house clean
for all of the people that I hope can see
a sign of life thriving.

I’ll keep a budget
and stop saying “screw it”
when I need a fix just to calm down for a moment.

I’ll make that record full of screaming and singing
over an acoustic guitar, dreaming
of what love I’ve gained and lost so suddenly.

This time, for 2025,
2024 has kissed us goodbye,
the hurt and the triumph coincide
as a juxtaposition for growth.

forty-five pounds of me has already fallen off
but I still want more, as if I have not
given myself permission to acknowledge my own victories.

I will no longer live life in cliche and trope
that everyone cyclically promises and fails on a new year; in 2025 I can see that hope
is the recognition of seeds planted, no matter how long it takes the trees to grow.

This time, for 2025,
I’m bold enough to hope,
bold enough to dream
and water the seeds
I’ve been planting for 27 years.

There comes a time to stop
And finish a chapter in your book of life.
A time to bid farewell to the rat race.
A decision made to retire and enjoy the good life.
Except … two of my five children live at home.
One working toward an advanced degree.
The other still a teen with college ahead.
Neither fully independent yet.
Was pondering retirement irresponsible
Considering those familial obligations?
I reviewed every possible scenario,
And came to the conclusion that
It seemed to be an imprudent time to stop working.
It wasn’t that I was no longer productive.
I could still do the job well,
When I wanted to.
It’s just that my heart wasn’t in it,
And both my heart and gut told me it was time
To set aside my sales tools and retire.
But to what?
A life of morning coffee or tea,
Blending into an afternoon newspaper or book read,
Giving way to an evening of television?
I knew that it didn’t have to be that.
I have recently fancied myself a writer,
A part-time amateur for sure.
I rationalized that retirement would bring me
All the additional time I needed
To promote and sell my writings!
But would I then be retired,
Hawking my thoughts as merchandise
Rather than the equipment I once offered?
The solution was so simple.
I will be a writer without selling one single word.
I just need to write.
For myself.
With a purpose ahead of me,
I chose to retire in 2024.
It wasn’t easy to disentangle from my career.
It was difficult to set aside the ways and habits
That led to past professional successes.
It was painful to let go of career plans
That will forever remain unrealized.
There are work tendrils still attached to me,
But they grow weaker and fewer each day.
I closed the chapter of my life
That I called my job
To enjoy my retirement.
But that is not the end of my book.
I have begun writing my next chapter,
As an author,
Creating for myself.
I’m grateful for readers
Who choose to spend their time
Exploring my thoughts.
But I’m not dependent upon them
To find validation in my narratives.

the body of the goddess

the silk tan skin
the gentle sweet kisses

slid them off
slid on me
tongue locks tongue tied tenderly

pulse in chest because
i can’t lose you
a silly excuse when she’s half naked.

slid off me
slid them on
carried to the door, laughter explodes

i love you

drive safe

More goals are ahead
I feel led
To achieve them
One at a time
To reach each finish line
The stars are slowly aligning
I’ve seen the sharp lightning
After years of mixed messages
And confusing paths
Thanks to outdated maps
But the life game is slowing down
No more feeling like I had drown
In a sea of confusion
More books are on the way
After finally finishing my first one this year
I cheer with happy tears
Continuing to pursue my Bachelor’s Degree
At UMGC
Will be another goal that I strive to work on
Getting more involved in The Unsealed again,
is a goal I hope to work on through baby steps
If more goals come along
I welcome them with a big hug
May we all
Stand tall
To end 2024
On a high note