children

Remember when we were in high school or for those still I high school, how we used to always wonder why older people never thought we were mature enough, and we would always ask our selves, why do we not get treated like adults and then we complain and whined which probably did not help our cause, and we would promise ourselves that we would treat other teens like adults when we grew up. I was one of those kids and a couple days ago I was riding a bus and thinking about my coaching plan for high school junior varsity football and while thinking of different schemes I was constantly dumbing them down because I felt the kids could not handle them I felt they were to young to understand. So where am I going with all this? Do we constantly forget where we come from, let me word it better do we sometimes forget what made us who we are? To become good people I feel that it is most important to never forget your roots and to respect your past, deal with the present, and live for the future. Use what you have once learned in order to better others. Plato once gave the allegory of a cave with cave dwellers and teachers and puppet master who would cast shadows on the wall to teach the people their beliefs but the teacher were those who have learn new ways of life from the light from the outside of the cave should come back to the cave and teach cave dwellers the new way to give them choice of the life they would like to live, but would never judge them on their choice. Life is always going to hit us with new twist and turns, those who survive are good people those who survive and learn are great!

We have to break down and lose whom we are. As the rain falls I lose myself in the annoying rhythmic pattern of the pit, pat, pit, pat lost and confused I look around in search for my nearest remedy but like the resource it's scares and not to be found. What is should be my leaning tower of support is now un steady and lost what's are our fears what are mine I used to be scared of what I couldn't see but now I know that my true lye beneath the quaking sand of what I once had they say a friend will come and go but am I strong enough to suffer that lost but am I willed enough to admit my wrong I guess what I really mean is my fear is to say I’m sorry, Because I fear being wrong.