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 |  "My eyes had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you." Job 42:5 NIV |
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Welcome to My WDC blog Thoughts as I walk with Jesus. God Bless! |
My Son 6/18 11:24PM- My son is my life. I’m sitting with him on the bed, where I’m sure I’ll be for the rest of the night. As I sit here and look at him, I’m often overcome with such emotion that I feel paralyzed. The love is indescribable. The sorrow I feel for him, I can’t begin to express in written form. He’s an extremely happy kid yet I know he’s missed out on so much. I just want my son to be happy. I know he’s going to experience pain, anger, sorrow, etc. But I want contentment for him. I want him to enjoy life and to experience love, joy, and fulfillment. I sit with him at night and watch him sleep. I do this often. I ponder life and what his life will be like as he grows older. I think about Christmas’s and how he didn’t understand what was happening. No matter how hard I tried to explain it to him, that magical feeling I had as a child just wasn’t there for him. That creates an extreme sadness within me. I think about birthdays. I think about holidays. I think about the little league games he can’t play in. I think about the millions of times I said, “my childhood was the best days of my life.” I wonder if he will be able to claim the same. This is my only son. He is my life. These are only a fraction of the reasons. He’s my reason for so many things I do everyday – in a sense, he is part of the formless energy that keeps my heart beating. A smile on his face naturally brings one to mine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat with him at night, as I watch him sleep, and my eyes begin to water. In fact, that just happened about 90 minutes ago. I love this boy more than anything in the universe and I mean that. I can say, with absolute certainty, that not a day has gone by in the last 2-3 years that he hasn’t heard me say, “Daddy loves you.” Multiple times per day. He’s my reason. The sleepless nights as I work on my craft. The mental readiness I am preparing for. The will that often feels defeated is violently shoved back into the arena by a simple thought of his smile. He’s the reason I willingly suffer. He’s the reason why that suffering is dealt with internally. He’s the reason I sacrifice. I do it all in hopes that my success will ease any future troubles for him. But most of all, I want my son to be proud of me. I want him to say, “Yeah, that’s my Dad… He may seem like a regular guy but he’s actually a superhero.” *I wrote that last night as I was sitting on my son’s bedside. I am still in his room with him. As with many creations – whether it’s a painting by an artist, a song by a musician, a sculpture by a wood-carver, or a piece of writing by a writer – it never truly feels complete or it doesn’t quite capture the true essence of where the inspiration came from. At least this is the case with most of the creative-types I’ve spoken to about this. This boy is my unconditional one. Given everything I’ve written and everything we’ve gone through – one thing remains. And that one thing is the pursuit of completion. When it’s my time to make the return trip home, the last few miles will be on fumes because I intend to end this journey with nothing left in the tank. Give everything I have – Everyday. My will is unstoppable. My hunger will never be satisfied. My resilience will be tested – and I will prevail. I fear nothing and I am willing to sacrifice anything to get there. You’re my best friend, little man. Also found on my website at: |
Life continues to amaze me. I can’t express how grateful I am to be a part of this. I’ll let you in on my most recent “wow” moment. It happened just a few hours ago. I took a break from writing this post to go put some gasoline in my Jeep. I get up early in the morning so it’s best if I don’t have a bunch of stuff to do before I get to work. Anyway – I make it to the gas station and all the pumps are occupied by other drivers. I pull up behind a car and begin waiting for the man to finish pumping his gas. As I sit there and look around, I begin to feel the energy from everyone. The life stories that surround me. Billions of experiences and stories within a 30-foot radius. I glance over to the pay booth and the clerk (Girl – mid 20’s) opens the side door and comes out with a broom and a dustpan. She begins to sweep around a few vending machines. I become consumed with thoughts of life, movements, and constant changes. People working menial jobs just to have the means to buy food and shelter themselves. (and perhaps their family) Sacrifices. Selfless acts. Random acts of kindness. I felt love and I could not tell you exactly who or what it came from. I didn’t care. It felt nice. I felt human – and that is what life is all about. Standing alone, pumping gas, and smiling while looking at the sky. In this moment – all I saw was a dark sky. No substance, no clouds, no sun, no stars, no moon…but it was incredibly beautiful. |
| Woke up this morning with a goat in my bedroom. I asked him why he was in my house. He said "I am following a scent." "What scent are you following?" I asked. He looked at me. "You have a reptile for a pet in here?" He asked. "No. Just an orange goldfish and the ant farm." I said. The goat immediately starts to breathe heavily. An uncomfortable type of breathing. His face displaying pain. "Hey, what's going on with you, Mr. Goat?" "Where's your ant farm?" He asked. "It's right there, near the Michael Jackson bobble head." The goat spins around, gets as close as his big nose will allow him to get to the farm and said - "Yep, that's what I thought. You need to get in there and remove this ant." He points to an ant near the bottom of the farm. The ant he pointed to is identical to the rest with the exception of one minor detail. It has feet that resemble human feet. I retrieve the magnifying glass that came with the farm. After closer inspection - I realize the ant is my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Wilson. The ants have taken body parts of some of the other dead ants and meticulously placed them all over Mrs. Winston's body to make her appear to be an ant. Understandably confused, I ask the goat why there is a miniature Mrs. Winston in my ant farm...and why is a goat in my bedroom telling me about it? The goat said "The answers you seek are with Mrs. Winston." I looked back into the ant farm. Using the magnifying glass, I could see Mrs. Winston yelling something at me, however, I can not hear anything. I ask the goat if there is a way for me to get inside so I can speak to her. "The answers you seek are with Mrs. Winston. I need to leave now. Goodbye, Waterboy." The goat jumps out of the window, shattering the glass and making a agonizing sound as he hits the ground outside. Adding to this periodically. |
| Welcome to the 14th of March, 2015. Happy birthday, Mr. Einstein. 3.141592653 The day started off just as most days do - by the sound of smooth jazz filling the room. I've found it's a much more soothing way to rise as opposed to the traditional sound we've all used for so long. I assume most people wake to something other than that noise nowadays but yeah, mine is smooth jazz. Allow me to fast forward to the point I was about to get into my car. Decided I wanted a doughnut. I am walking to my car, shielding my face from the rain with my hoodie. From the corner of my eye, I see a giant bird on the hood. I stop to look at it. It was incredible. An absolutely majestic creature. I was in awe of it. The way it was moving its head to look around was a thing of beauty. Every single movement was graceful. I must have stood in the same spot for 5 minutes staring at this bird while getting drenched from the cold, morning rain. After an eventual 30-second staring contest between the bird and myself, it flew off while showcasing an impressive wingspan and catching the closest air current, probably in record time. All I could do is smile as I walked the rest of the way to the car. When I arrived at the store, I found myself in line standing next to an old man. Probably 70's or early 80's. I told him about the bird and his response is something that I will never forget. He said "The bird knew you were soaking up inspiration from its presence. That is why it stayed there. Animals have that sense and that particular bird wanted you to be inspired." My day peaked at 8AM this morning. Your move, nighttime muse. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
I write a lot about inspiration. Positive thinking habits. Culture breeding generations of people to embrace banality. Often, I go through my notebooks and ask myself this question--"Who are you to decide what is mediocre?" Or, more frequently, it's been--"Who are you to write about positive thinking or to suggest that habitual thoughts and actions geared toward optimism and positivity can change your life?" This is the demon I arm wrestle with everyday. He/She talks a lot. The answer to my demon's questions are simple: It's what I feel. I've made mistakes in life, who hasn't? I have done things that, in hindsight, clash to the core of being optimistic and positive. These experiences are necessary. Necessary to mold, learn, and apply later in life. Without negative, there is no positive and vice versa. Just as everything else in nature has an opposite that assists in maintaining a perfect balance--so do our thoughts. Many are subconscious, however, the subconscious thoughts are manifested by personal choice over a period of time. A great metaphor for this is--think about a crock pot that is brewing up a delicious meal. Cooking time is 2 days for this particular recipe. You gather up all the ingredients (personal beliefs) for the recipe (conclusion) and put them all in the crock pot (your mind). You close the lid and walk away to let it simmer for 48 hours. Closing the lid and walking away is the key to this. I think (hope) you understand what I'm trying to say. I wanted to mention another ridiculous phrase my demon says often. He just said it, just now, as I was finishing that last sentence about the crock pot metaphor. He says "You're really going to post that blog entry or story entry online? Dude - nobody cares." He can be a real a##hole, am I right? Again, it's okay. Eventually, he will take his La-Z-Boy and move out or keep his mouth closed when he has a thought. This will happen as soon as he realizes his antics aren't as effective anymore. I digress... Thoughts about yourself, what you truly believe about you, what is possible for you are all extremely powerful thoughts. They create you, silently, by influencing your surrounding thoughts and actions. I am referring to the deep, inner feelings you have about yourself. Yesterday I mentioned culture. I want to explain because just the term "culture" can be taken in many contexts. When I refer to culture, I am referring to typical, the norm, prime time television, 50% off at old-navy, name brand, marketing brainwash mechanics and many other things that turn people into a herd of cattle following the herder to his bank. Think for yourself. Question everything. Never allow the opinion of another human (or inner demon) to alter your focus. Thanks for reading. Much love. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
When a river is flooded due to an excess of rain, there is water on surrounding areas that isn't supposed to be there. Life in those areas must now quickly adapt to this change or seek shelter until the water subsides - which, in turn, delays their life work. Even if it's only a few hours. If you pour a glass of lemonade into a cup and continue pouring after it has reached the brim, there is going to be lemonade all over the kitchen counter. This becomes an issue that could have been prevented if you would have stopped pouring when it was full. Now, your main focus, instead of drinking a delicious glass of lemonade, is trying to remember where you put the paper towels. These 2 lessons are different in nature but offer the same lesson in life. Keep yourself full but don't overfill with excess. This goes for everything in life. Balance. True success is measured by contentment in one's personal achievements and growth. To me, success is simply- living life while giving everything you have to act on the things you're passionate about. I believe the term "Success" has had its meaning altered by cultural engineers and generations of kids being told what it means to be successful in life. I am getting off topic here. I will save that one for another time. Success is internal. External rewards from internal success. Positive thinking and not allowing past experiences to determine your future possibilities. Your past is not a reflection of what your future has in store. Especially if you can understand that hardships, while painful in the moment, are there to teach and develop your spiritual growth. They are not a punishment. Positive thinking leads to positive results. These positive results may not be as timely as you'd prefer or come to pass the way you'd like them to but - It is certainly a path that is parallel with your true nature. Nobody's destiny is to be mediocre. Culture hypnotizes and eventually can cripple an artistic mind. Keep that eye open and trust yourself. //////////////////////////////////////////////////////// The above post is bullet points for tomorrow's entry. Much love. |
| I am going to say it was approximately 1:30AM last night - I was scrolling through my Twitter feed. Being so late, I am sure most of the tweets I was reading only received about 1 second of my attention, however, I came across one that I found myself staring at for at least a minute. I can't remember who tweeted it or who originally is credited with this quote but it read: "Treat your writing like a job, even if it isn't yet." I was fixated on this quote. I listened to that voice in my mind saying "Yes." Every voice, every building, every shadow, every haircut, every bird, everything...could end up becoming part of something in print. The horizon is bright...back to work. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| It's another beautiful day in Seattle. The window to my left is slightly open - just enough to capture the sound of the birds and to take in the fresh Seattle air. Now, if I could just get my neighbor to turn down his music, this setting would be ideal. I am sure he's unaware that I can hear it, so it's okay. No harm done.  Today, I opened up quite a bit of my writing.com portfolio to the public. The reason I decided to do this is because I wanted to share some of my work and share this quest I am on with my family and friends. It's a process, I have certainly come to realize this. It's even more of a process than what I first anticipated it would be. That anticipation was derived from ignorance, really. Not understanding the process or the ins-and-outs of the craft. I believe we all have something that makes us unique. That uniqueness is tied to passion. That passion is the universal or spiritual connection to our soul. When that energy is tapped into and the conscious mind begins to focus on it, some unbelievable things unfold. Inspiration is abundant. It's not that the inspiration is manifested through external means that were put there due to the connection - It's that, internally, that connection opens up a thought process or a different perspective on what we are seeing, which then connects itself to that passionate hunger that we are focused on. Finding inspiration in a beautiful, sunny day is great BUT, finding inspiration on a cloudy, rainy day is even greater. It's the perspective. It's nature. It's internal. What do I believe? Do I put limits on myself before even attempting something? Do I convince myself, through my thoughts, that I will not be able to achieve something? Anything is possible. I know this is a cliche phrase, I get that. It is the truth, though. If there is a dream you have, a goal, a passionate hunger that doesn't go away, a "voice" in your mind that reminds you of it - Get after it. Keep swinging. If that passion is there, it's inevitable that you will eventually make solid contact and put one in the center field bleachers. You better believe that I will be there with my gigantic foam finger that has your name on it too! Much love, my friends. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I am MFrederick. I am a writer. MFrederick is my writer name. My name away from the world of writing is Matthew. Frederick is my great-grandfather's name. He passed away shortly after I was born. I've heard many incredible stories about him. He was a great man. I desire to leave a legacy in the same fashion as he did. His integrity, his work-ethic, his passion, and most importantly his humble nature. I am 35 years old. I have a 9 year old son. I play a mean guitar. I love baseball. I have a strong urge to fly but I have nowhere to fly to...fly to...fly to...-PF- My favorite color is green. My favorite food is cheese. I don't love green cheese. I am on a treasure hunt. Created 7/21/13 Modified 8/23/15 |
My new biography- MFrederick was born in the suburbs of Jupiter's largest crater. He spent many years alone trying to find his calling. When he finally hit age 5, he left his home and began flying alone. He worked odd jobs, including a surgeon for beetles who had been crushed or burnt due to rockets. Although this was a great job and afforded him some nice possessions, he still didn't feel it was where he belonged. He put down the surgical instruments and decided he would save up all his cash for 6 years to purchase enough fuel to launch him into a brand new realm into the universe. He had heard about this little rock somewhere near Mars that had green trees and blue water. 'What a paradise that must be!' he thought. The time came and he took off towards Earth. It took him 9 months to reach Earth and when he finally reached, he landed in Roswell, New Mexico. He now resides in Seattle, Washington with his cat and 2 imaginary friends. |
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