Some people believe that ravens guide travellers
to their destination. Other believe that the sight of a solitary raven
is considered good luck. While more than one raven together, predicts
trouble ahead.
The hardest part of saying goodbye is having to
do it again every single day. Every day we face the same truth that life
is fleeting and our time here is short. And to honor the fallen we must
live our own lives well.
Quentin Fields was a basketball player. He was
also a son. A brother. Somebody’s teammate. And somebody’s friend. I
never knew Quentin Fields and I guess now I never will. Did you ever
wonder what it would be like if you weren’t you anymore? If you were
suddenly gone how would your world react? Whatever you imagined was
wrong. There’s nothing romantic about death. Grief is like the ocean:
it’s deep and dark and bigger than all of us. And pain is like a thief
in the night. Quiet. Persistent. Unfair. Diminished by time and faith
and love. I didn’t know Quentin Fields but I’m jealous of him because I
see how his absence has affected the people who did know him. So I know
mattered to them. And I know he was loved. People say Quentin Fields was
a great basketball player. Graceful. Fluid. Inspiring. They say on a
good night it almost seemed as though he could fly.
And now he can.
At this moment there are 6,470,818,671 people in
the world...
...Some are running scared...
...Some are coming home...
...Some tell lies to make it trough the day...
...Others are just not facing the truth...
...Some are evil man that war with good...
...And some are good struggling with evil...
...6 billion people in the world...
...6 billion souls...
...And sometimes all you need is one...
Do not let your fire go out, spark by
irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swaps of the not quite, the not yet,
and the not at all.
Do not let the hero in your soul perish is lonely trustration for the
life you deserved and have never been able to reach.
The world you desire can be won.
It exists.
It is real.
It is possible.
It is yours.
There are moments in our lives when we find
ourselves at a crossroads. Afraid. Confused. Without a roadmap. The
choices we make in those moments can define the rest of our days. Of
course, when faced with unknown, most of us prefer to turn around and go
back. But once in a while, people push on to something better.
Something found just beyond the pain of going it alone. And just beyond
the bravery and courage it takes to let someone in. Or to give someone a
second chance. Something beyond the quiet persistence of a dream.
Because it's only when you're tested that you truly discover who you
are. And it's only when you're tested that you discover who you can be.
The person you want to be does exist, somewhere on other side of hard
work and faith and belief and beyond the heartache and fear of what lies
ahead.
Does this darkness have a name?
This cruelty, this hatred? How did it find us? Did it steal into our
lives, or did we seek it out and embrace it?
What happened to us? That we now send our children into the world like
we send young men to war hoping for their safe return. But knowing that
some will be lost along the way.
When did we lose our way?
Consumed by the shadows, swallowed whole by the darkness.
Does this darkness have a name?
Is it your name?