VISTAS: An awareness of a range of time, events, or subjects. A broad Mental View.
January 7

In Memory Of Jason

Birth is a beginning
and death a destination
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
and youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
and ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to desecration
and then perhaps to wisdom.
From weakness to strength or
from strength to weakness
and often back again;
From health to sickness
and we pray to health again.
From offense to forgiveness
from loneliness to love
from joy to gratitude
from pain to compassion
from grief to understanding
from fear to faith.
From defeat to defeat to defeat
until looking backwards or ahead
We see that victory lies not
at some high point along the way
but in having made the journey
step by step
a sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
and death a destination
And life is a journey;
A sacred journey to life everlasting

~Author unknown~


Watching the playoff games today, the teams I wanted to win lost and the teams I wanted to lose won. It makes me almost scared to root for my Colts next week.

Me and Rup Rup went to mom's this evening to watch Bull Riding, but the tow of them acting like children picked and bickered so much not much watching got done.


"The true worth of a man is to be measured by the objects he pursues."
-Marcus Aurelius-


as a tribute
to one who was so brave
to one who left to soon
to one who will always be remembered


it is funny at how when looking at things I find that I'm capable of doing things others cannot do. I find that I'm fortunate in having the ability to do so, but yet again there are things I can't do either. I just haven't realized it yet.


It seems as though my mind has left me today, I find myself doing things and then not recalling what I am to do next. I find I am making stupid mistakes, that I have never made before. I am hoping that this is just part of the flu I have been fighting with.


when the winds blow,
when the cold seeps in
who is there to keep me warm


Winter winds blow
but yet there is no snow
the ground will thaw
we will forget all this beauty we was
when winter does go


I once held a treasure in my hands, something I allowed to slip away, like the wind and the sand. I could turn the hourglass and let it fall again, but it can not replace which was lost nor can it ever be found or returned again.

If we are to look into a mirror do we see the shifting of the sands, in the lines upon our brow, or the faded color of our hair. Looking deep into the eyes you see the scars. All the tears that fell, no longer sand but solid rock. In some forgotten place of the mind the memory lingers but no longer flows.

What brings it to the forefront and recalls it to haunt is the fear of the new, and the reminder of the old, where can trust come from when it has never been known, What is trust a tool or device to deceive and hurt? Once I had faith, I truly did believe that Love was more than a word, and lasted forever. Could I have been wrong?


I laid my body before thee
Offered in total surrender
with no trace of mistrust
I gathered my will
Allowing you your freedom
I became part
the service was pleasure
The pain sweeter than all


Whom the gods wish to destroy they first call promising.
- Cyril Connolly