Thoughts In Traffic

The crisp air of Mother’s Day 2023 hit me as I assumed the role of chauffeur. The sun was hanging high above me, casting cold shadows over New York City. I had my wife by my side, her warm presence a balm to the fatigue that clung to my bones. The previous night’s sleep had been elusive, a distant dream, snatched away by the anticipation of the upcoming Angela White birthday party at Wonderland NYC. I found myself questioning the wisdom of “Team No Sleep”, a mantra I once lived by, its allure fading with each passing day. The human body and mind are intricate machines; they need rest to operate at peak performance. Ignoring this fact was like trying to outrun the inevitable. Sitting behind the wheel, the city’s traffic pulsated around me. Horns blaring, red lights blinking, engines revving – a symphony of urban chaos. It was in this discord that I found a rhythm for my thoughts. I pondered the walk-through I’d just experienced, the stark contrast of my current ambitions compared to the younger version of myself who dreamed of the limelight, the applause, the adrenaline rush of an entertainment career. Now, at 37, I found myself yearning for a stage of a different kind. My experiences, the struggles and victories, felt like a tale that needed telling. Public speaking, a skill honed from childhood years in the Jehovah’s Witness church, was now calling me back. I had stood on stages in front of vast crowds – the deafening roars of club-goers, the frenzied screams at concerts. Yet, none compared to the reverential silence that descended upon the Nassau Coliseum when 15,000 Jehovah’s Witnesses gathered. It was a different kind of magic, a unity and harmony that touched something deep within me. While my religious days were behind me, my spiritual journey was just beginning. A burning desire to help people, to share my journey, began to consume me. I saw glimpses of my future in figures like Tony Robbins, a titan in the realm of personal development. The traffic ebbed and flowed around me, a perfect metaphor for my life. I was in a transition, a shift from the fast-paced, high-energy world of entertainment to a more introspective, purpose-driven life. The absence of alcohol had refocused my perspective, aligning me closer to my true purpose. I found myself yearning for a stage not in a bar or club, but in an arena where my words, my story, could make a difference. There was a palpable sense of something greater than myself at work. I didn’t know where this journey would lead, but I was sure of one thing: If I stayed sober, if I bared my soul to the world without fear or shame, the Universe, God, the Higher Power – whatever one chooses to call it – would guide me. And in doing so, perhaps my story could become a beacon for others, a testament to the power of perseverance, of rebirth, of redemption. This wasn’t just my story anymore – it was a story for anyone who had ever battled their demons, anyone who had ever dared to dream. And so, the journey continues…