The Lady Bug

One of the hardest parts about being a man is making mistakes.

You set out to sea with dreams so big you never really knew how far you could reach. But what happens when the ship hits land and the journey has hit a new twist. Old dreams become bitter battles of glory like medals without a names.

The second hardest part about being a man is knowing your mistakes.

You feel you've been through the world and back more times than columbus. You got life, philosophies, or even that nice persona in tact. But truly you don't really know more than you're willing to learn.

The third hardest part about being a man getting up and facing your mistakes.

If I were not capable of being good then I believe there would not be an interior struggle to fight the bad inside me meaning if I were truly to lend to my emotions of being a lost cause then I would totally be "lost" and unable to see it. I would be content or yet never uneasy with my bahavior. The human conscience or "heart" is gold, but there's a lot of debris along the way before you reach the purest form of a stone heart.

I've seen the mountain. My nausea increases. The trail binding towards the sky harbor. So unevenly paced my feet control my hearts satisfaction. Is this my first walk or has it been years since I've been on this trail. Surely, I look to my left and my right. I see many pass me by with ease and some with many sorrows/burdens. I find strength though I do not possess it. Maybe it's the innate gifts men are born with. The desire to dream and conquer.

I look to my Father's eyes. Oh weary man you've seen the top of the mountain and you've seen the bottom. You've known the tip of wisdom and the jagged edge of destruction. Please tell me,

"What is the best part of being a man?"

He never spoke, but his walk showed.

His lips never moved, but his will was never mute.

The walk is the climb and the climb is the walk.

It's not so much what you see when you get to the top of life's Everest's, but what you receive on the way down.

For we are more than we think. For we are what we were designed and created to be. The most important part of the walk isn't the start, but the finish.

I take a breathe. Wipe the sweat from thy forehead. Plead with myself for one more try and awaken the inner spirit. Was my inspiration just a dream or was it just destiny written within my tired soul?

The walk is steady, the walk is ready... grace appears as a lady bug lays peacefully on my shoulder. Does luck stand on my shoulder or have I just happened to stand on luck itself. I am the man that's coming down the mountain, I am the answer and I am the question.

What is the best part of being a man?