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Category: Understanding Love

Love Is A Verb

Love isn’t a person, place, or thing. Love is the way you treat a person, how you choose to act in a given place, and the things you do that put you into a state of (self) love.

…Love is a way of being.

When love is a person, it leaves when the person leaves. When love is a specific place, it steals away your freedom in a world of possibilities. When love is merely a thing that is or isn’t, it takes away all of your control in the matter.

When love is a verb, however, the matter is in your hands.

It reminds you that love is created through action—not stagnation. And if you want things to be better—to be more loving and overflowing—then you have to do something about it. Waiting to be crowned with love by the noun god isn’t a good strategy.

Just Because

Yesterday, a friend of mine got a friend of theirs a custom t-shirt featuring a blown up image of their friend’s childhood dream car drawn by their friend’s very own childhood hand that was joking shared via text but brilliantly airdropped, screen printed, and airbrushed onto a plain white t-shirt—complete with nickname AND racing stripes… just because.

…These are the kinds of friends you want to keep close by in life.

And this is the type of friend more of us should aim to be.


P.s. The dream car was a red Lamborghini. And what the drawn image looked like to an actual Lamborghini is about what Josh Allen’s Buffalo Bills logo looked like to the actual logo. Priceless.

Moments Never Forgotten

It’s the efforts you make for others when they’re the hardest to make—and the others know it—that become moments never forgotten.

Because average efforts don’t stand out when recalling an entire timeline of connection… it’s the above and beyond efforts that do.

Remember this the next time you have a chance to make an effort that’s feeling particularly above and beyond. It could end up leading to some of the moments that stay with the other… forever.

Luck Stuck In Reverse [Poem]

I remember you telling me
you met him
in a coffee shop

You went to get a drink
and thought it’d be nice
to see if he wanted one too

I simply can’t fathom
What luck like that
Must feel like

To be sitting; working
And be unintentionally chosen
By the rarest of butterflies

You tell me this
As we navigate broken rock
Near thundering falls

Where missing a step
Could mean broken bone
Or at least red cheeks

But I don’t miss
Not a beat; not a step
Not a single strain in thought

I’ve become numb
To this sort of pain
Luck stuck in reverse

I glance forward
You settle your wings
On a flower I’d never have seen

I glance back
Sun, river, flowers—this butterfly
Maybe luck is made?

Our path together ends
You float to bench nearby
And stop me from walking away

I smile; remember the coffee shop
And decide to say it anyway
Let’s do it again sometime

Knowing damn well
This butterfly
Is getting away


P.s. You can read the other poems I sometimes write here.

The Everything Else

Tonight, I had the pleasure of celebrating the end of my mom’s career with her at her retirement party.

Surrounded by colleagues, close friends, loved ones, board members, and more—it was a warm and vibrant gathering filled with a great many emotions.

And while all that was said throughout the evening was heart warming, kind, and beautifully delivered—what hit me the most had nothing to do with words at all.

…What hit me the most was this brief, minute or two slideshow that showcased assorted moments from throughout her career, that was backed with just the right song, and was played in conclusion—after all of the speeches, toasts, and honors were given.

It opened with an image of my mom from 20 years earlier (when she first accepted the role) and closed with a picture of her in front of the same wall that must’ve been taken from just a few days earlier.

And what was in between… yes… what was in between was what hit me.

It wasn’t words.

It was faces.

Faces not only of people whose lives touched my mom’s, but whose lives my mom was able to touch.

It can be so easy to get lost in the words—the product of the organization—that we can take the faces for granted. But, it’s not the words who show up to your retirement party—it’s the people. And what a beautiful bunch of people my mom was able to attract into her life.

Words matter—don’t get me wrong. But, in many respects, it’s the everything else—the intent, timing, body language, care, charisma, belief, devotion, warmth, strength, etc—that makes the legacy.

Check, Please [Poem]

I like you
I’d be more specific
But I don’t know how

Unlike you, I
Can’t seem to find
My way around this here and now

What words do I know?
Humor! ...A Joke?
Rhythm—stay cool; go slow

I race to catch up
As you question me different
And whisper an aside

Like somehow we were here
Where small talk and formalities
Were behind us like years

I’d do more to reciprocate
But what if this is just you
Being damn good at what you do?

Move too fast and I fear
What feels like years
Will dissolve back into just now

Move too slow
And I won’t even get to see
With who or how you’ll go

It’s obvious you know
Words, people, paths 
—Your way around

It’s only a matter of time
Months, weeks, days
—Before you’re properly found

Which means what exactly for me?
Now? Next time? Never?
Who knows...

I ask for my check, please
And watch as another moment comes
And another moment goes

P.s. You can read my other poems here.