I don’t write about it often on this blog, but I think I’ve said before that my dad died in 2009. He died on Christmas Eve, but was pronounced dead on Christmas Day. His death is something that I don’t think about on a daily basis, but it’s something that has defined so much of the person who I’ve become.
My dad was, what many would call, a “hardworker,” Up until his death, he worked. He worked through illness and stress and everything else because he, like many Americans, felt he had to.
There’s a train of life that we all jump on in modern society when we buy into the myth that money can and should define us. Some call it the “rat race,” and I think that’s kind of fitting. I believe that being employed is a good thing. I think working is a good thing. But I think so many of us work and work and work and forget about ourselves. We work and begin to see our companies, our employers as ourselves until we’re given reason not to and then at the end of our lives, many of us, are left feeling empty.
Passion filled life.
If nothing else, I want to live a passion filled life, and I’ve realized in reflecting on my dad’s death, I want others to do the same. Through my words, I want to inspire people, wherever they are to love their lives and dream big and feel…this life, their hand.
I want people to live a beautiful life that is their own because they choose to.
This post was kind of all over the place, but it came from me reflecting on why a lot of my writings lean towards the side of “self-help.”