Momentum

He woke up in a good mood, ready to attack the day in good spirits. As he rolled over, to sit up on the edge of his bed, he thought of how today would be a new day. Someday, he would do something special with his life.

He got ready as usual, moving quickly through his one bedroom studio. As he went out the door, he glanced at the pile of bills accumulated on the table. He was determined to pay these off, break the chains and make a good life for himself.

He walked to work, often feeling distanced from the remainder of society, most of which had cars. He never understood how they were all able to afford these beautiful cars. He dreamed of the day, he would roll up to a night club in his flashy black camaro, with purple trim and watch as the people stared in amazement, a thought he knew was one of many brainwashed into his mind.

Snapping back to reality, he looked around the neighborhoods he walked through. Cracked pavement and pot holes, a plenty, some of which were quickly fixed with a lightning pattern of black tar. Trash being blown any time the wind picked up. Usually, he didn't notice, but today he took a closer look: a straw, a ticket, some broken glass, a Capri sun... Every step he took, he saw more. The houses weren't in great shape either, paint chipping, damaged shingles. But then again, he would love to have any one of these homes.

He arrived at work and began his shift. Washing dishes wasn't great, but hopefully, this would only be temporary, until he found something better. He was glad to have this job and it had several perks like getting free food or finding extra shifts anytime he needed them. He would enter through the back door. The shift started off smoothly enough. Loud clanging and talking meant a busy restaurant, which meant prosperity for all.

Mid shift, the chef came to the back, angry, ranting and raving. The chef was bald headed, with a thinnly shaved goatee and tatoos along his right arm. The chef started to yell at him and continued to yell for a few minutes straight because he had not stacked the dishes perfectly. The dishes were expensive and if not stacked properly, they would break. The possibility of them breaking, seemed rare, and the chef's reaction made clear his worth in comparison to these dishes. The shift could not end quickly enough.

His body boiled. He could physically feel these emotions spread throughout his body. It was almost as if he was on the outside looking in, with no control. His body was tense and his pace quick. All he wanted to do was get home, the safety of home. His thoughts from the morning about his neighborhood and his debts all seemed to race through his mind, and with the anger, he began to doubt his self worth.

Entering his apartment, he quickly went to his closet, and pulled down a box. He was so angry, he just wanted this feeling to leave, but everything he tried, he could not shake it. He opened the box, and pulled out a 9mm. It felt good in his hands. The cold hard steel, made him feel powerful. A power, completely opposite from the helplessness he had felt the whole day. Perhaps, if he wanted a new life, he needed to take it. With this gun, he could forcefully take what he needed. He could force others to give him what he needed. He sat lonely, frustrated and stuck in an internal battle.

The longer he sat, the more control he seemed to gain over his body. Still angry, but not with the intensity he first felt. Gun still in hand, sitting on the edge of the bed, the voice of his third grade teacher entered his mind. His third grade teacher, was a tall man, with a gentle voice, who always seemed to have full control of any situation, very humble and preacher like. He could hear the teacher explaining why violence wasn't an answer and that each individual truly has the power to choose. At that moment, a glimpse of understanding hit him. He begin to realize that his power was not in the gun he wielded as a lone soldier, but in the pain he felt right then. The pain that would make the masses relate to his suffering, and unite a much more powerful force. It was alone that none of them would have power, but together that they would be unstoppable. As he laid down the gun, he knew in his mind that this force was beyond measure compared to the power he felt holding the gun.

Yet calmer, he laid down and thought. The outside world would continue to try to keep him enslaved, a slave without a master, but a slave still. He would not let them and would model his daily actions after the humility of his third grade teacher. The key to controlling the never ending cycle of anger stirring emotion, would be to realize that such feelings were not permanent. The key would be a somewhat meditated state outside of self would allow adverse feeling to dissapate. He would avoid the self-pity and loneliness that consumed his life.

Throughout the weeks, he began to talk to people. More and more, he found the same stories, the same feelings. He knew it all along, he was not alone. He spoke to a woman, an immigrant, who moved herself and her daughter to the states when the daughter was only 14 months old. She moved here because the medical care was better and the american dream inspired her to take action. He learned of the young daughter's dream to become a lawyer, a dream that would be crushed in a few years as she tried to find a university that would take her. A dream that would be crushed with the compromising thoughts that she must have ethical values but at the same time constantly lie to avoid uncovering the truth. But yet, beyond all the odds stacked against her, the daughter dreamed. The key to seeing a dream come true, he thought was to never lose sight of it. A dream by definition would be something improbable, but the very thoughts which created and sustained it meant that it was also possible. He took this story to heart and wanted to one day, make a change that would show the world that the american dream is truly alive, breathing and a beast at that.

He spoke to another man, who had purchased a home but did not understand the terms and conditions, so to speak. The man had given everything to purchase a home which seemed. Only, fifteen years after purchasing the home, the man was almost all but foreclosed on. The man had fell victim to the financial funnel which fueled the motives of our institutions. The man's wife had died from a rare stomach cancer about six months prior. Even when the man's wife was alive, they were in financial turmoil, and now, trying to face the reality of life and the pain of her death, the man was completely lost. Life was a day to day struggle with a guaranteed end to this sad story. The man also explained how the hospitals could not possibly have done everything they could have and his reasoning seemed accurate. The man he spoke to only gave him another reason to continue to fight.

Slowly but surely, he began to push his ideas of prosperty onto others. His thoughts of mind over body and individual strength. The mind has the power to push off the selfish cravings which affect only the present. The mind has the power to make life in general better. And not just for one but for all. He was determined to pay his debts and with each payment he made, he felt more honest and suprisingly, better about himself. He knew he was empowering himself. With each payment, he also began to feel respect, which seemed strange because this was new. It seemed he was even afraid before to feel this, to see his own personal power. He felt like any normal animal would feel when given the opportunity for something better which at the same time was strange. He felt fear.

In the meantime, he attended gatherings with others to face life head on. He learned and found programs to attach to. He also discovered, as he suspected, that he was not the first and would definitely not be the last. He took control.

Fast forward several years, to the present. Many things have changed. He has paid his debts and has helped others find financial advising. He has helped to reverse the brain washing, to show people the reality life should be. He has helped rebuild and restore many homes in the neighborhood. He looked out into the crowd. No longer entering the back door of some restaurant, he was in center view. He walked up to the podium. Thousands were gathered and the day was beautiful. The day felt like a day that would go down in history. The sight of people squished into the streets to support the cause reminded him of Martin Luther King's dream or the freedom of speech movement fought on the steps of UC Berkeley. The memories were of times when people were fighting for the well being of the nation, of other people, and not just themselves.

He began his speech, and continued to recite ideas surrounding the volunteer efforts to support the community which were powered by the individual, education for all and the rebirth of the financial system. No longer would people have to look out and see their neighborhoods rotting. They could empower their futures and break social and class barriers through education. The financial system would no longer guarantee that one's life earnings inevitably ended up where it started or make it probably that people would get trapped beyond help to the point of despiration. As he continued his speech, he paused for just a breif second to recall the moment in his one bedroom apartment, when his third grade teacher's voice had saved his life. An undeniable truth he felt, as he stood, that the pen truly is mightier than the sword.