Take time to deliberate, but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go in. Pearls don’t lie on the seashore. If we want one, we must dive for it and for those who wish to sing always find a song. Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it’s realistic or not. I would argue that nothing gives life more purpose than the realization that every moment of consciousness is a precious and fragile gift. Remember dreams are free, so free your dreams.
Be patient with ourselves. We are only human and anxiety is a normal part of human existence, but with these tips we will be better prepared to face our fears. We may not be able to change our thoughts and habits overnight, but a slow drip feed of positivity will lessen how often and how acutely we feel our panic and anxiety. Don’t whip ourselves with expectations about how w should be thinking and feeling, just breathe into each experience and every moment. What anxious people most need is gentleness from themselves. Allow ourselves to have bad days without judgment. Given ourselves permission to be happy without worrying about whether fear is around the corner. Keep on investing in self-love and practicing observing our thoughts and we will soon find its possible to live without our anxiety in charge.
One part at a time, one day at a time, we can accomplish any goal we set for ourselves. We make most of ourselves by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement. Opportunities don’t often come along. So when they do, we have to grab them.
My life fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories. I remember a time of chaos, ruined dreams, this wasted land. But most of all, I remember The Road Warrior. The man we called “Max.” To understand who he was, I have to go back to another time, when the world was powered by the black fuel, and the desert sprouted great cities of pipe and steel. Gone now and swept away. For reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior tribes went to war, and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all. Without fuel they were nothing. They’d built a house of straw. The thundering machines sputtered and stopped. Their leaders talked and talked and talked. But nothing could stem the avalanche. Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting, a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men. On the roads it was a white line nightmare. Only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. The gangs took over the highways, ready to wage war for a tank of juice. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and smashed, men like Max. The warrior Max. In the roar of an engine, he lost everything, and became a shell of a man, a burnt-out, desolate man, a man haunted by the demons of his past, a man who wandered out into the wasteland. And it was here, in this blighted place, that he learned to live again.