We are not so different, you and I. Nestled beneath the faint arc of our rib cage is an instrument that we have christened the "heart", its intricate, intimate humming, stringing the seconds, from moment to minute, giving us life. 
God must have been sage, when he positioned such a corral, a cage across the vessel of the heart. Perhaps he knew, what we did not know then, that the heart is the eminent weapon there is. 
If only we'd hang up our guns, sling aside our anger, cast way our pursuit for power, and arm ourselves with a redeeming heart, with radiating love. If only we'd set aside paperwork, pause amidst deadlines and board meetings. Then we could savor an embrace, delight in a kiss, smile at a stranger. 
We could lay strewn across the grass, laden with the fragrance of dew and soil, and watch the majesty of the sun shimmer on the horizon. We could withhold from hurried meals, and store bought favors. We could meditate, and contemplate, before speaking, before forming half-witted judgments. We could see again, see the souls of our offenders, see the power of the weak. 
This world does not need regulations and restrictions, any more than we need currency and contracts, any more than we need presidents and princes, any more than we need to believe the world must unquestionably be intricate and involved. 
All we need is the softening, strengthening, purity of love. The mending of fractures in relationships, the banding of hearts together. 
We're not so different, you and I. We wander daily to forks in the road, where we must elect either the path of love or the path of despite. Love may hurt a little, and love may not come easy, but it will come, if you call it, love can change yourself, and it can change the world...
Title Quote: Pearl Bailey
Photo Credits: Jonathan Leder at www.jonathanleder.com.
At six-thirty A.M. - daybreak still premature and the husk of night being stripped like a bed sheet to reveal a slit of flaming sun, a tear in the plum-like hue of sky - the incisives of my slumber disgruntled into a ripened nightmare. The clarity of my conscious absent in a vicious hallucination, a tempest of violence, and flickers down the throat of a gun, heightening, until the vision collapsed and I was awakened. 
Fingering my crumbled sheets, my hands quivered like the needles of a polygraph device, responding to my drumming pulse and the jagged rhythm of my breath. I scoured my surroundings for assurance that it was after all just a disillusion, a scab of my subconscious. Coaxed by my weariness, I slumped back into the cradle of my pillow, my mind running like fragmented roll of film, replaying the home invasion I had witnessed in sleeping. 
Ironically, society avidly pursues prevention for home invasion, and theft of material possessions and wealth, and still, we give little thought of defense in regards to the frequent invasions of our minds. 
Rumors, portrayals, notions, philosophies, dialect, opinions, images, beliefs, suggestions, information, and so forth, invade our thinking and psychological state on a daily basis. 
Perhaps, we believe what feeds into our mentality, quietly stays there, and is insignificant in terms of our own principles and actions. However, sometimes even unbeknown to ourselves, much of our thinking has been dictated by outside influence. Certainly, complete ignorance of the thoughts and perceptions of others, would be a terrible loss, however, if we train our mind to filter influence like sand through a sieve, we are able to catch the stones that only obstruct our mental healthiness. 
Conservation of the mind, is not so much a matter of constructing barricades, but rather of independent observation and reflection. Question what is vital in your life. How much reliance do you entrust in others to come to your own conclusions? Do you quickly adopt the same thinking of your friends and family, with few questions asked? 
In most grade schools, subjects have an unspoken rank of magnitude. Creative topics have long been swept away as an afterthought in educational institutions. This is one, vastly illustrated example, and a way of thinking that has eroded countless minds, including my own, at a time.
I am told, even now, that art is a straight path to poverty, but in a turn of the tables, I believe art can be a solution to poverty. Straying from the drawn lines of practicality has taught me that innovative thinking is an enlightening force that most often leads to momentous advancements and impact. 
There is a frequent phrase that hinges on the warning lips of family and peers: "...the reality is..." Should someone tells you that reality rejects the possibility of your ideas, the probability of your dreams, remember the French proverb that “to believe a thing impossible is to make it so." Tear out the word "impossible" from your dictionary, and instead embrace the notion of the "possible". Simply believing is fundamentally crucial in achieving.
Therefore, determine your own ambition, the thoughts closest to your soul, and ignore any unjustified objection to it. Outside opinions and improbability can only stop you, if you let them... 
Wherever you are in life, are you there because you want to be, or because that's where others want you to be? How much reliance do you entrust in others to come to your own conclusions? Do you quickly adopt the same thinking of your friends and family, with few questions asked? Other thoughts? P.S. If you missed the previous snippet, there is now a Girl Meet's NYC Facebook Blog Network. Please join,
if you like, and a heartfelt thanks to all who have already. Title Quote: Anthony Robbins
Photo Credits: Jordi Gual @ http://jordigualphotography.blogspot.com & Siggeir Hafsteinsson @ www.digital.sys.is.
