Philanthropista

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Hello, it's me.

A writer

A dreamer

A doer

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A Good Day

Let it be a good day. Full of good news, of the sounds of the birds singing, a dog barking A set of tires crushing against the gravel of the driveway, letting you know your love is home A good day filled with the simple pleasures with comforting rituals the sound of the water boiling in the kettle the smell of the coffee pouring into the cup the clink of the spoon as it stirs the sweet poison Let it be a good day let yourself listen to your daughter as she tells you the same story for the fifth time Look in her eyes and see the depth of her imagination feel the excitement coming from her voice grab her hands and let her feel that you are listening Let it be a good day Don't read the comments on the click bait posts Don't read the comments on the Trump posts abortion posts, immigration posts, gun posts Don't read the posts at all A good day

The Acceptance of My Existentialism

What was I afraid of, exactly? It’s wasn't death, but grief. It’s the end. It's not knowing what lies ahead, and unwilling to accept that what lies ahead, may be nothing. It seems that is my ego talking. I don’t want to not exist because I don’t want to not know about the people I love. When I think about how much I love them, especially my children, the pain of not being seems insurmountable. As mothers, we have no choice. The bond is forever, and it's unimaginable to think of that being broken. And Jeremie, a soul which crossed my path in such a magical way, despite all our stress and struggles, I still love him, but what about his soul? Look, I know just how beautiful life is, how precious. I am grateful for what I have, even though I have moments when I compare myself to my friends and peers and wonder why I don’t have more. But I choose to be happy with what I have. And always have a strategy for improvement, a plan for happiness, for peace, for a life tha...

The Gardener

His bottle of coke sat in the sun as he clipped away the leaves, surely it must be warm by now. If my mom were here, she would have already offered him an ice-cold water and a sandwich, a tortilla, something. But I just sat, staring at him through my mirrored window, wondering why I couldn’t do the same. I felt some sense of embarrassment, as if, reaching out and humanizing our coexistence was too risky, being vulnerable was dangerous, and I wondered when in my life did I ge t damaged from doing that. To top it off, I am an empath - I very acutely feel the joys and pains of others. Yet I still can’t will myself to connect on that level of humanity because it is too intimate for me. The morality of our existence as humans is the only thing that will save us from ourselves. If we reconnect with the concept of kindness, of cooperation rather than this notion of individualism, that is how we can overcome the fallacies of modern-day social and political structures that tear ...

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