Periodically, I have to write same post – your personal victories come first.
Why do I say that?
Because in the United States, we’re invaded by a media circus. The Kavanaugh drama is just our newest example…we’ve seen this before. The media, salivating like an Ethiopian hyena and ready to strike. They spin sophistry and promote degeneracy. They drag America into a sick and never-ending cesspool.
The sicker you get, the stronger they become.
You gotta be happy. If you don’t shine, nobody else will feel your light. So you have to rise above. This means getting your house in order. Make sure the kids are fed, the bankroll is growing, and your spouse is happy. Everything begins at the dinner table.
Take a look in the mirror. Make sure you love what you see. Make you sure you dedicate every day to excelling at GOALS.
Your personal victories come first.
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Today you reach for glory….
Because God created you…a child of HIS image. Will you let HIM down, or will you push to honor the gifts you’re given?
Because you’re given TODAY. So many could not come with you…so many friends and family members. You owe it to them to reach for the rainbow, to look within your soul for a spark of inspiration
Because you refuse the mediocre…you reject the Valley of Despair. You ignore the Voices of Defeat. ‘
You have a destiny with all that is wonderful…if only you believe it to be so!
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Did I live today to the fullest?
I ask this every night as I put my head to the pillow. You see, the Major was almost dead once. Medical complications during a heart surgery. And for a minute my life was hanging in the balance. Even with the modern surgery of today, I was still lucky to survive.
But God was on my side. He pulled me through to live another day. I was knocking on heaven’s door, but there was nobody home…yet.
So why was I brought back? For what purpose?
I ask myself that everyday and a fire burns inside of me. A fire to make something of a second chance. A desire to repay God for the grace he bestowed upon me. The desire to do more, to be more…to see my name upon the billboards of achievement. To sing a song of victory in the battlefields of despair.
I live the with sacred obligation – to repay God for his opportunity.
To make the most of everyday. To live my life to the fullest. To maximize whatever talents I’ve been given.
Did I live today to the fullest? Only when I answer “yes,” am I able to sleep comfortably.
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Have you seen a professional bodybuilder? If so, ask yourself a question: how did he get that way?
The answer is simple—he became obsessed with a goal. The goal dominated his life, 24 hours a day. It became a part of his DNA. While others were fixated on CNN, he was pounding weights in a gym. While some were agonizing about the past, he was planning his macros for the week. And while others were eating pizza, he was shopping for protein powder.
The obsessed man is a GREAT MAN. He’s the hero of tomorrow’s children. You can find his name in a history book or on a park statue.
OCD…ha! That’s a fucking joke. A trap, set by the losers of the world. They want you to slow down, to stop your ascension. So they tell you that a positive is a negative. A complete lie! What’s next? Why not say that a rich man has a paper addiction? Or the guitar virtuoso is abuser of nylon strings.
No! We refuse to back down! We refuse to surrender our obsessions. Life is short ride, so we’re committed to our happiness. We’re dedicated to making the most of the journey. We don’t like depression, loneliness, or insecurity. So we fight back! We jump out of bed, ready for the ongoing battle….
Never surrender, my friends!
Obsession is not a disease—it’s the trademark of the GREAT MAN.
The point was made by Nietzsche in Twilight of the Idols:
For the Greeks a sexual symbol was therefore the most sacred symbol, the real profundity in the whole of ancient piety. Every single element in the act of procreation, of pregnancy, and of birth aroused the highest and most solemn feelings. In the doctrine of the mysteries, pain is pronounced holy: the pangs of the woman giving birth consecrate all pain; and conversely all becoming and growing — all that guarantees a future — involves pain.
So very true.
You entered the world in an orgy of pain—your mother bleeding on a delivery table, screaming as you left her body. And then your greatest victories—from infancy to adulthood—were forged by adversity: the heartache of unrequited love, the death of a good friend, etc. Your “growing and becoming”…the result of a solemn battle.
You ought to thank God for your pain!!! Without hatred, would you know about love? Without a bloody war, would you understand peace?
Dear reader, your happiness is shaped by the Storm of Adversity. Your pleasure is born in the Fire of Agony.
Pain is the father of pleasure.
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I don’t sell hope.
Instead, I provide people with advice on how to overcome obstacles. In addition, I listen to advice from others on how to overcome obstacles.
Let’s me give you two examples:
- A woman wants to lose weight. She can listen to a self-help guru, telling her to “just believe in herself.” Or, she can listen a personal trainer that provides a comprehensive fitness plan: a man willing to kick her ass every day with rigorous training. A man willing to push her to greatness, to fight through pain and sweat. The first individual is providing hope; the second is helping her to overcome an obstacle.
- A man wants to become rich. He can listen to an enthusiastic speaker, telling the audience to “reach for the stars.” Or, he can read from the wisdom of millionaires: i.e. The Millionaire Next Door, The Art of the Deal, etc. Books that take away time from his pleasure-filled weekend. Books that force him to re-examine his wasted life. The first individual is providing hope; the second is helping him overcome an obstacle.
You get the point.
I refuse to be a “hope dealer.” I don’t sell the crack of platitude, the needle of self-help. I don’t peddle the cliche. I’m not here improve my self-esteem by telling pretty lies. I don’t need the Facebook likes or Retweets. I prefer the truth.
I refuse to sell a Pollyanna principle. Rose-colored glasses are too small for my face, too blinding for my vision. I’m not here to misdirect or to obfuscate. I don’t need a book deal, a record contract, or a tenure-track position. I speak the truth.
May the children of tomorrow hear my cry! And may they say one thing alone – he was a man that spoke the truth. He broke the chains in Plato’s cave, he pointed to a naked leader and yelled: “The Emperor wears no clothes!”
What can I say? Nothing more than what Nietzsche already gave us:
“…it is my ambition to say in ten sentences what everyone else says in a book — what everyone else does not say in a book.”
I prefer to help one person than lie to a thousand.