Matt Pana

earmuffs

Children, cover your ears.

There’s a new vulgarity. A word that has slipped between the cracks of censorship. Penetrating society’s tongue. Accepted by far too many people than we may realize.

Small, seemingly innocuous. The most discouraging word in the English language.

One word: should

Because “should haves” can lead to “could haves” and “would haves.”

Regret. A sense of inability. Not able to accomplish. That out there, lies a better alternative to what’s already happened.

It is indeed a curse. A word that haunts. That may never leave us. That if said enough times, may actually be thought of as true.

It takes growth to understand that nothing before can ever be changed. We must take pride in our efforts. Respect decisions made. And accept what lies ahead of us.

Whatever we dwell in the most will eventually shape our lives. We become what we focus on.

We must learn from the past. Prepare for the future. And do what we can today.

With open eyes and open ears. An open mind. And an open heart.

filter

All I want for Christmas is coal.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve been on my best behavior as of late. But while this season calls us to be naughty or nice. Perhaps everything isn’t so black and white.

Coal. Elementally, an impure form of carbon. Obtained by firing wood and other organic substances. A common source of heat and energy. Like in the gunpowder packed into a loaded rifle. Like in the hookah coals passed along among familiar faces.

It also serves another purpose. Despite the dark and the gray. The heat and the ash. A German entrepreneur by the name of Heinz Hankammer would use the substance to its full potential. Utilizing the activated carbon naturally found in charcoal. With its ability to absorb impurities. And applying it to tap water. Essentially softening it into a purer state. Pioneering what we know today as Britta filtration. 

Have you ever thought the world would be so much better without that person? Without him or her? Without that sour experience. Those hard times. The dirt. The mess. Believe me, you’re not alone.

But like filters, you’re not called to settle with the dirt in your life. But to use it. All of it. Taking on the clutter. The residue of the past. And using those experiences to challenge yourself. Test yourself. And grow.

Bringing out the best in ourselves. And the best in each other.

dots

Webster’s dictionary defines dots as precise points, small spots or round marks.

If you take a closer look, there’s nothing fancy about them. No specific colors, shapes or shades. Aesthetically speaking, there is no real work of art involved. No complex design or formula used.

Yet, they can be the foundation for all punctuation. The power to end. To separate. To pause. To drag…on….

They can represent degrees. Degrees of separation. Coordinates that coordinate everywhere you’ve been, and everywhere you’ve yet to go. Points pointing out your flaws, and quite possibly, pointing you in the right direction.

They can be seen when you least expect them. As a child, you find yourself connecting the dots. Following the order of things. Life between the lines. And before you know it, you’re an adult. Signing along the dotted line. Proof that you’re now apart of something. What you own. What you’re accountable for. What you bring to the table.

Maybe there’s more to it all? Like the molecules and atoms that make up our physical being, perhaps we’re just the pixels that create the bigger picture. Giving purpose to the process. Meaning in the making.

Always pay attention to the details. The little things. They make a world of a difference.

paper champion

This year, the Oklahoma State Athletic Commission set a ban on all combat sports. Boxing. Mixed Martial Arts. And a rather questionable choice that fell under the same category.

Professional Wrestling. One part sport. One part entertainment. Where Cirque du Soleil meets the NBA. Home to headlocks and soap opera in spandex.

Now it’s common knowledge that wrestling is scripted. Champions predetermined. Chosen. To lead. To carry. To be the face of the company. The guy they can depend on to rack up the numbers. Merchandise sales. TV ratings.

But it’s far from fake. The business has a history of injuries. Drug dependencies. Overdoses. And sadly enough, even suicides. While these superstars may seem larger than life, we sometimes forget that they are indeed human. Vulnerable. In need some time off. In need of someone to step up.

The paper champion.

The guy at the right place at the right time. The guy with just enough talent. Just enough charisma. To hold the fort, for the time being. Acting as a smooth transition. A means. A vehicle. Back to what’s familiar. Back to yesterday.

Sometimes, we forget that titles have meaning. But I’m not talking about heavyweights or cruiserweights. I’m talking about titles like boyfriend, girlfriend, and significant other.

The people we choose to be with are a reflection of who we are. What we represent. What’s important to us. Oftentimes, we forget that these titles are on the line. Every single night. Challenged by doubt and jealousy. Pride and greed. Cause titles like these, they can’t be bought or sold. They have to be fought for. They have to be earned.

Whether you’re first or last, you are the main event. Meant to keep someone on the edge of their seat. Standing in ovation. Slow clapping in awe of what you are now. And the legacy you will leave.

You are a true champion. One who deserves to be relevant. Respected. And above all else, valued.

The champ is here. The champ is you.