Scars

Play til you hear the whistle. If there is one life lesson I’ve carried with me from my youth as a baller it was that simple axiom. Make your move, go hard, take your lumps and finish. You see, we pick up these little “and ones” here and there along the road of life, every time we beat the odds, every time we weather the storm undeterred. A meaningful life isn’t lived tiptoeing through the tulips and running in between the raindrops, skating through our days unscathed. Our time on this earth is defined by taking a beating, absorbing the meanest, most menacing blows this cold world can dish out and finishing anyway. Many of us, in one way or another, live hard. Some of us live for the contact, we take pride in our scars, we welcome the pain. But that isn’t to say we should be so arrogant as to spit in the face of the fates. With the dawn of each day comes fresh opportunity. A chance to start anew, to right the ship, to finish strong. To grow within by identifying the error of our hardheaded ways and make a change. Something in the way I’ve been wired makes it impossible for me to understand the sort of shoulder-shrugging acceptance and resignation with which some people view their destiny. Each day I’m blessed enough to open my eyes, as I see it, is square one. Take advantage of this new chance, this clean slate ushered in by the rising sun. Take back control, exercise your will and take measures toward creating a better life, if not for this day, then for the night that will surely follow. Every goal in life is the same as those many brief moments of decisive action. Make your move, go hard, take your lumps and above all else finish.