Title: The Mind’s Favorite Rut
It takes a great deal of nothing to waste a life trying to figure out what it’s all about. For most, the end goal seems simple: to have lived as profitably and successfully as possible, and to be able to say:
"Look at all I’ve managed to accumulate—my wealth and fortune, my good health and progeny, my fame and charitable virtues."
If one can make such claims, perhaps they’ve lived better than most.
As for me, I’ve failed at many of these. I can’t say I’ve “lived” life by such measures. I am a disappointment to myself, and perhaps to others. If given the chance to do it all again, I suspect I’d make the same mistakes, take the same detours, and end up right here once more. And so, maybe this is the final cut—the last act in a long, meandering play across the stage of mediocrity and wasted potential.
I’ve always been my worst critic—I've been told that enough times. I know I must stop comparing myself to others, those who seem to have lived lives of merit, lined with material success. But I am who I am.
I’ve been up and down this road trying to make the best of the worst. And I’ve resisted the ruts most people fall into. I’ve done my damnedest to be different, to avoid surrendering to what’s “normal.” I’ve taken risks, believing there must be another way to look at life.
I have walked roads less traveled and wandered streets that led nowhere—just to see, just to know, just to prove to myself that I could dig deep and get my hands dirty when needed. I’ve been frowned upon and hated. I’ve also been loved and respected. And still, an empty space lingers in my heart, aching to be filled.
Will I ever find that peace and tranquility the soul yearns for? Or will I, like so many before me, be buried with questions unanswered?
Who am I?
What have I accomplished?
What good am I to humanity, having walked this Earth for over sixty years?
Is this it? A state of limbo at the fall of life’s curtain?
I could go on playing this melodramatic violin concerto, hoping for solace, for the grace of God. But enough is enough. Like a broken record, it’s time to lift the needle and let the next track play.
I must get out of this groove—the mind’s favorite rut, the one that spirals toward despair.
Because this is where most of humanity is stuck today. Enough is never enough. The endless seeking. The endless wanting. That has become our collective endgame. What’s missing?
Mercy. Kindness. Gratitude. Sharing. Compassion.
And most of all:
Genuine, unconditional love.
I don’t have much left to give or share—except these ramblings. These tangled thoughts and winding reflections. In them, I offer a small piece of myself. And maybe—just maybe—someone out there will find in them a mirror, or a lamp for their own path.
People tell me I’m good at turning negatives into positives. Perhaps all this self-digestion has borne some fruit—a glimpse of what the Buddhists call our true nature.
Maybe this is my legacy: a life lived in public, shared raw and unfiltered, for whoever is willing to listen.
And What Is Wealth, Anyway?
I spent 21 years in the United States. Three years in Japan. Lived a year in the lavish excess of Dubai. These are not journeys of the poor in spirit. I’ve wandered through Europe and South America. I’ve seen abundance. I’ve lived inside its walls.
So what is wealth?
Is it not relative? Is it not simply perception?
As for accomplishments, I’ve had a few. I’ve been acknowledged as an artist among my peers. I’ve held solo exhibitions around the world. I’ve worked more jobs than I can count—each one teaching me a lesson about survival, creativity, and humanity.
I may not be a religious man, but I’ve had my spiritual awakenings. I’ve asked difficult questions and embraced what truths I could find. I’ve tried to live with integrity, as a seeker of something greater than myself.
And God?
Allah?
He is always behind me. Watching. Guiding. Loving. The God I know is a God of Love and Compassion. That is my faith.
My Progeny
I leave behind four beautiful souls. My children, born of three extraordinary women—two American, one Swiss.
How that came to be?
Well… keep reading. The pieces will begin to fall into place.
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