Warrior

I read a book this afternoon about a juvenile delinquent. Her parents signed her up for a wilderness therapy. She hated it, raged at everything in her life, and got through it. She changed. She became a warrior. She grew.

I was jealous of her. Spending two months in the middle of Utah desert? Sign me up.

Then I realized. I can be my own warrior at home. Day going bad? Sing. Take some time to rest. Do something that makes you happy. Feeling like I have no friends? Call some-one up. Write a letter. Some one hurt you? Pray for them. Forgive them. Drink water. Be a warrior.

Life is hard, man. That’s the hard truth. Is there a but in here, you ask. There is. But. But, life is good. The simple joy. I know, everyone hypes and clichés about joy in the simple things, and flowers, and sunshine in dark spots. We would all rather live in the shadows of the alley and under the bridge than blink in the sunshine. It’s fun to drown in self-pity. It isn’t healthy, though. Get up. Get up and drag yourself out and blink in the sun. Get up and smell the air of the living. You aren’t dead anymore. Get up and live.

Oh, and for anyone wondering about the book, the title is Wild Bird written by Wendelin Van Draanen. Read their books. They’re all good.

Live.