Last night around 9-10pm, I went to my car to get my green juice bottle to get it ready for the next day, my today.

I saw a pair of sweats lying in front of my neighbor’s door.

I debated whether I should knock on the door and let them know.

Lazy me said nah.

Non-lazy me asked why not?


I picked them up and knocked firmly.

I was on edge a little myself, not wanting to scare them so late in the night.

I just wanted to go to sleep without thinking about those sweats lying outside.

Finally, after some background noise, which I took to be hesitation and reluctance to face the other side of the door, a girl, about 23 years old undid the lock and opened the door.

I quickly rattled off, “I don’t know whose these are (duh) but I saw these on the floor” and thrust my arm out.

Her face lightened up and she thanked me, taking the sweats.

Behind her, I saw a dude, about the same age, sprawled on the couch watching TV.

I turned around, saying good night, and headed home.

For some reason, that stuck with me.

All the way through today.

Through tonight.

The thought I keep thinking –

What a piece of shit.

Laying on the couch,

eyes glued to the moving screen,

while the girl mustered up the courage to answer the door,

and whatever was out there.

It was only me.

But still.

What a piece of shit.

No decency to even act a little concerned,

to pretend a little care,

to feign a little attention.


I felt bad for the girl.

She had no idea what she’s worth.

That she’s worth the concern, the care, the attention.

That she’s worth much more than a male friend or significant other or one night stand that is so lazy, he doesn’t even give a shit enough whether the thing behind the door might come after him.






I stewed on it this evening, wishing I had the guts to tell this fool what a fool he is. And tell the girl what a fool she is, while I was at it.

And for some reason, it reminded me of my ex, the first adult heartbreak.

And I remembered what a gift he was.

And still is.

I remembered the gift of tears, heartbreak, loneliness, pain, humiliation.

The gift of confusion, feeling lost, insecure.

I remember the lessons of love and life, the teachings of experience that no one could receive but myself.

The path to truth only I knew by tripping over my feet and misperceptions.

I remember the gratitude for everything falling apart, especially me.

I remember the rebuilding and relearning and remembering of who I am,

what I’m worth,

where I come from.

All through the experience of being in a relationship with someone who treated me exactly the way I perceived myself.

And I knew that this dude is no different.

I felt, in that moment of realization, there’s nothing to do but be humbled.




We all have our lessons.

I learned mine and continue to.

She’s learning hers and will continue to.

We all have our lessons.

Some lay on couches, refusing to get off their asses, enticed by nothingness and self-preference.

What can we say about those?


Unless it’s a Thank You.

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Walking my journey, evolving endlessly into the Me I came to Be.

2 thoughts on “Lessons

  1. We ‘can’ say anything and everything about this, as you yourself did. Talk about how craptastic it was. This is free will, right. But once we become aware, also as you did, our words are led by realization and consciousness, a deeper and truer source.

    I loved the process…your process…watching it all unfold, piece by piece, deliberation by deliberation, to what was a beautiful sourcing of truth / deep inner knowing and acknowledging / source. Your heart.

    This was way better than any sitcom. You are such a fan of your own life…. what a magnificent perspective and so much more.

    I’m ready for butter and salt Sidecar donut now. 🙂


    1. It’s only taken me 2 months to get back to you… teehee.

      It definitely felt like a process lol. Thank you as always for your reflections and thoughts and love. I receive in full.

      Always ready for donuts with you.

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