C.M. HalsteadC.M. Halstead

By C.M. Halstead

You are dying, dying to do something. Empower yourself.

I am disappointed in you, my fellow human beings. I mean really?

Are we such victims that we can’t even hold ourselves accountable to the simplest things?

You cross a solid yellow line while driving, get a ticket, beat it in court…. Somehow. Wait, you are telling me that the rules in place aren’t really in place? If I can convince through debate and argument that your rule isn’t really your rule, then it does not apply to me. Just everyone else.

Empower yourself: “Yes, your honor. I screwed up. I will improve.”

 

“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”

Are we really that weak? That we can’t even admit when we succumb to the most basic of our instincts and habits, that we actually did it. Lets try the power stance instead.

Empower yourself: “I had sexual relations with that woman. I broke the commitment to my wife. It has nothing to do with whether or not I can lead this country. Now, fuck off. Its between me and my wife. It is adultery after all, not treason.”

 

Yes. Yes we came to what is now known as the continental United States, and pushed out of our way the human beings already living here, moved in and made it ours. Then, told the new owners to fuck off (Jolly Ole England) and slowly took over the place. Every since then, immigrants keep arriving, it is what keeps this country fresh and thriving. Keeps YOU from having to dig ditches if you don’t want to. Unless you are into that kind of thing, then by all means, dig away. Don’t worry, some immigrant will gladly work in that cube farm for you.

Empower yourself: STOP living as a victim!

It is only your fault if you are living where you don’t want to, it is only your fault if you are in a relationship you don’t want to be in, it is only your fault if you are unhappy with my life. It is NOT the fault of the far left, or the far right, or anyone in between. It is not the cops, it is not the government, it is not the person who abused you as a child, it is nobody but you…and your beliefs that keep YOU from being whom YOU want to be. Be. Don’t wait. Be.

Empower yourself: “I will change my life. I am going to (Insert statement here). I am not a victim, even if I once was. I forgive myself for living as a victim, it is not my fault. I didn’t deserve that.”

“You don’t deserve that.”

Fuck people. Really? Do you really believe that the government, your boss, your accountant, your parent (I’m talking to the adults on this one) has your power? Here is the fucker: only if you give it to them.

Instead try this:
“I’m a badass motherfucker. I got this.”

Now look in the mirror and say it. That thing you’ve been to afraid to say to the most important person in your life that influences who you are & who you aren’t: You.

Empower yourself.
Possible videos:

Retrain your mind (taking ownership and working the five second window)

Welcome to the grind (its about the ethos. “How bad do you want it.”)

Rise up/Wake up (Allowing yourself to be great, the grind.)

Life like a King or Queen (facing our demons and taking away our crutches)

By C.M. Halstead

Learn to live life as a champion!

Live life, not as a victim of it, live life as a champion of it.

I love the article in the link below. If I handed it to my wife to read, she would think I wrote it. I didn’t. I relate to the article because it is congruent with the way I live my life, I am in charge of my life, no-one else.

I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of people that after hearing about a life change I was making, said to me, “Wow. I wish I could do that.” If you know me, my voice probably just said in your head, “Then do it.”, if a voice popped up in your head after and gave the reason(s) why you can’t…then this article is for you.

If a voice popped up in your head and said, “Yes!” or “I am doing it!” then put your arms in the air and say “Fuck yeah, I rock!” (The “I rock” part is optional.”

The article is written by Becca Martin; I love the no-punches-pulled aspect of the writing because I am a firm believer in not lying to myself.

Here is the link: You are the reason your life sucks

As always, you are in charge, so it is your choice. Now, later, or never.

Personally, my choice is, Don’t wait to live. Live. Now.

Love you guys,
C.M. Halstead

By C.M. Halstead

Honor them through fun

There was a time I would get mad about people having fun on Memorial weekend. I resented the fact that they were out having fun! I mean it is the holiday to remember those that have died so that others may live. Why are they out having fun instead of standing in cemeteries crying? Don’t they know?

I think they don’t know, yet they do at the same time.

Let me explain my perspective. The worst thing I can do is stop living because others have died. Especially if others have died with the belief that they did it to protect my way of life. How dishonorable would it be if I “passed away” along with them?

Choosing to die along with those that have, does not serve either of us.

When I was a little boy of single digits in age, I saw the worse thing imaginable.

Travel: At the time I was not aware of how significant two road trips were to my life. The two road trips I am referring to are a move from Plattsburg NY to Anchorage Ak. A great distance. And a return trip four and half years later, Anchorage, AK to Palmyra, NY.

My entire family was contained in a giant dark blue station wagon. The kind that now looks like a land yacht or alien space vehicle. The only part of that entire journey I remember was waking up one day in the middle of a snow field; my mom had lost control of the giant station wagon due to the snowy road conditions and we ended up about 30 yards into a field full of several feet of snow. The vehicles being what they were back then (solid tank like entities), the only damage was to the exhaust system of the station wagon.

I remember my sister and I waiting in a running motorhome while the adults got the station wagon back on the road. In those days, especially in the great white north (snow, not the color of people you snots) many people would stop and help each other out! For some reason, my older brother was in another vehicle for warmth. I hope he was more successful that we were because I remember how frozen my feet felt!

The thing my sister most remembers about that incident is how I got car sick later from the exhaust fumes coming into the vehicle and puked on a sleeping bag. I bet you to this day, if the identical sleeping bags we traveled with were laid out in front of us, she would know which one I had thrown up on. Uncanny ability to identify she has.

Four and a half years later, we made the return journey from Alaska back across Canada to the lower 48, this time in a different station wagon, driven by a different dad.

You see while stationed in Alaska our family experienced what many families experience, tragedy. Lucky me, I got to watch it.

I know you may be thinking that something happened to my biological father, but that is not true. While my older brother and I were out riding near identical bicycles one day, my brother was hit by a contractor looking for a house number. The image of the bicycle and my brother rolling around the rear truck tire is an image I will never forget. It is also one of the oldest memories I have. The trauma having blocked just about ever memory before that.

The death of my seven and a half-year-old brother, my elder by a year and a half, affected me deeply. My parents too, in fact, it is what ended their marriage. I can only image what the loss of a son will do to someone, and I hope I never have to find out.

The death of my older brother, my protector, playmate, and co-conspirator is something  I did experience. I will also never forget how just minutes before I had negotiated with him to switch bikes with me. You see, our bikes, although near identical, were not. His had a cool BMX type seat, and mine was a cheesier banana seat. That was the only difference between the two.

I coveted his so much that I talked him out of it that day, and was smiling with joy and victory when I watched him ride in front of me, per usual, but riding my bike.

The next few memories are contained in a few images. I already told you the first traumatic image. The second is a still picture in my mind of me bursting into the bathroom after running home, and seeing mom and my sister playing with hair curlers, one of her running down the street in a bathrobe and curlers, and finally an image of the driver of the truck sitting on the curb bent over so far his hands were on his back…and that is it.

For a long time,  I died.

Some time ago, some 30 years after the incident, I finally came back to life.

Now, at 44, I am living the life I always wanted. I am doing my brother’s memory justice by living the life that feels congruent to me. The life of a creative, the entrepreneur, the life of someone who has freed themselves from the deaths of the past and is honoring the memories of those that have died by living my life to its fullest. Survivor’s guilt is a mother fucker.

Survivor’s guilt is a mother fucker; I’ve worked through it a few times now. Besides my brother’s death, I’ve moved on from the deaths of friends, fellow Marines, and strangers whose deaths I had the misfortune of witnessing. I have accepted the worst thing I can do is die along with all those people by living in guilt and shame. Not living is a disservice and is dishonoring to those that have passed. Think about it. If you have died and are checking in on an old friend, family member, military buddy, etc. Would you like to see them miserable, lost in a drug habit or deep in depression, or would you rather see them eating a second round of BBQ, playing catch with their son, and smiling?

Don’t wait to live. Live. Now.

I am surprised that this blog ended up being about my brother, not the military personnel I knew that died, or about veteran friends of mine that also deal with survivors guilt. (Or something along those lines.)

Regardless, here’s to an awesome Memorial Weekend full of BBQ’s, fun, and living.

It is worth repeating:

Don’t wait to live. Live. Now.

By C.M. Halstead

Why question abundance?

A while back, on a wintery weekend afternoon, a  desire for a jeep ride managed to bring me out of my nest and into Dirty Girl (aka the #jeep) for a country drive, in the blowing and still falling snow.

There is nothing like the contrast of red rocks and white snow, to entice me out of my warm nest and into the great outdoors. To be honest, I enjoy stormy weather days outside more than 80 and sunny days. There is nothing more boring weather-wise, than 80 and sunny. Whilst the ever changing views and elements of a blustery winter day, bring out the desire to hike or ride around in my Jeep, while smoking a cigar.

On this day the jeep (aka #dirtygirl) and the cigar win the competition.

As I did back then, I swung through a fast food restaurant to prepare sustenance for the drive. Pulling through the drive-thru, I notice they have a two for two dollar special on their name to fame, the big-mac. “Cool.” I think to myself, “I can get one at half price!”

“Pulling up to the depressing black drive-thru order box, I am greeted cheerfully, “Good afternoon, what can I make for you today?”

“I see you have a two for two dollar special on the big-mac.”

“Yes we do, would you like us to make you two big-macs today?”

“No, actually I only want one. Can I still get a deal?”

“No, if you order one, I will have to charge you full price, and that will be more than buying two for two.” the cheerful voice coming from the big plastic box says.

“For REALS? If I buy one, I have to pay full price! Can I pay for two and just take one?”

“No sir.” the not as cheery voice coming from the black box says, “You have to take both.”

 

Long pause by me, while I express the voices in my head, but keep them in my head.

 

“I guess, I’ll take two then.” I say out loud.

“Great. Thank you sir. Would you like anything else?”

“Yes,  a small diet coke and medium french fries please.”

Voice from the box, “Would you like a large drink, they are all the same price.”

“…sure why not.” conversation saving answer.

 

Pulling around, I think to myself, “There has got to be a reason; are they really that corporate, that they don’t allow their people to think? Or, perhaps it is an inventory thing. They need to sell product before it goes bad, and its cheaper to sell it at a loss, than to dispose of it or… “Here you go sir, enjoy. Thank you.” The voice now having a face, a twenty-something with dedication without knowledge as to why.

“Thank you; you too.” Pulling away, before turning out onto the road, again I ponder what I am going to do with the extra big-mac. I mean, I could probably eat two, but even I didn’t need to ingest that many calories while merely driving around sifting in the views.

Before I know it, the fries, one big-mac and most of the giant diet coke even, are gone. Easing my way through the forest and countryside, I admire the snow glazed wind, and the crisp February air, the crunch under my tires intermixing with the sounds of slush in the wettest spots. The sandstone takes on an illustrious orange hue when the shine shines bright, melting the snow recently attached to it. I come to another crunchy area as a motion is caught in my periphery to the right.

A coyote with legs minus one the usual amount, comes a trotting from my right, heading towards the road ahead of me. He scopes about the drifting snow, hoping for something, casting his trained eye across the horizon. Looking for food more than shelter, perhaps.

I think to myself, “How could I not..?”

Slipping Dirty Girl into neutral, I apply the brake and open her door. Grabbing the still warm, all beef patties, special sauce, extra cheese, lettuce, pickles, on a sesame seed bun while hopping out of the jeep, walking firmly, my head slightly down as to come across non-threatening, I walk out in front of dirty girl.

As I bend down, I open the box. Placing it on the glazed snow, I glance up at the coyote. The coyote has stopped moving and is staring at me, head still at scanning level.

I backpedal my way back and sideways into Dirty Girl, closing the door gently I sit and watch the three legged coyote watch me.

Nothing else exists, the snow blows through without notice, the earth turns, but who notices, clouds are moving and life is continuing for all else, in that moment he looks at me. Then moves forward with purpose, his nose a detecting whatever scents it can pick up in the perpendicular wind.  The coyote reaches the wax coated, pliable, two millimeter thick box. The container flaps its top lid, attracting the coyote to the free meal inside.

His eyes move from the contents to watch me inside my metal shell; snatching the prize, he gulps twice and it is gone.

 

Perhaps I could have saved him some fries.

By C.M. Halstead

Be open to any path, and the right one will present itself

Two years ago, if you paid me to write down where thought I was going to be and what I was going to be doing at this very moment, and we had taken that piece of paper, without either of us looking at it again and stashed it in a safety deposit box until this very moment. When we opened the box and read the piece of paper, there is no way in hell it would read anything like where I am and what I am doing.

I guarantee we would not be reading the words,”CM Halstead writes in his writers cave daily, is an entrepreneur, travels the national parks for exploration and stellar views, and is an Amazon & NY Times best selling author.”

Now, if you had paid me to write down on a piece of paper, where I dreamed I would be and what I would be doing. . .and we followed that same procedure with this piece of paper. When we removed it from the safely deposit box this time and read it, it would read something very similar to,”CM Halstead writes in his writers cave daily, is an entrepreneur, travels the national parks for exploration and stellar views, and is an Amazon & NY Times best selling author.”

Have you noticed there is only a one word difference between the two questions asked?

In the first question, I am asked where I think I will be. So my brain thinks about it, utilizing its current belief system, with its strengths and weaknesses built in, to come up with a good logical answer. The brain bases is answer on its world experiences and told belief systems. Who told it? Where do the belief systems come from.

The belief systems are seeds that grew over time. Planted there by people in the past: parents, spiritual leaders, drill instructors, friends & enemies, teachers of any kind (class room, martial arts instructors etc). Some are good, some are bad.

Where you told to think outside the box?

Where you told to shut up and be quiet?

Where you told that anything is possible?

Where you told you suck and won’t amount to anything?

When I am asked about the dream, all those told belief systems go away, if only for a split second. When asking someone this question, look into their eyes and see the glimmer. Better yet, look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself the question:

Where do I dream I will be, and what do I dream I will be doing in two years?

It will be there in an instant, the answer that is. It will flash through and come to the surface, it will only last a moment for some, yet it will be seen!

Write it down. Tape it to that same mirror, or attach it to a wall. Read it every day, twice; morning and evening, until it happens.

Do it now.

For the only thing we have to lose is someone else’s belief systems….

I  write this, because it is what I am inspired to do today. This is today’s dream: to offer up a different perspective for someone who is open to it. To enable ourselves to pursue the dream and obtain the obtainable, for anything is obtainable with persistence.

If our brains tell us to quit, we will. If our brains tell us to keep going, we will. Keep going. Dream the dream!

Now for that best seller list; where’s that piece of paper!

You are dying, dying to do something. Empower yourself.
Learn to live life as a champion!
Honor them through fun
Why question abundance?