Freedom Focused

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

APPENDIX K: SAL Essays

APPENDIX K

SAL Essays

American Declaration of Independence (2 July 1776)..............................Founding Fathers

United States Constitution (17 September 1787).......................................Founding Fathers

Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation (1740s)................

......................................................................................................................George Washington

Common Sense (1775)........................................................................................Thomas Paine

Rights of Man (1791-92)....................................................................................Thomas Paine

Nature (1836).........................................................................................Ralph Waldo Emerson

The American Scholar (1837)...............................................................Ralph Waldo Emerson

Self-Reliance (1841)...............................................................................Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Over-Soul (1841).............................................................................Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Message to Garcia (1899).............................................................................Elbert Hubbard

As a Man Thinketh (1903).....................................................................................James Allen

—Dr. JJ

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, USA

Author's Note: This is the 530th Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013 and the 312th consecutive weekly blog published since August 31, 2020.

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Wednesday, July 1, 2026

APPENDIX J: SAL Poems

APPENDIX J

SAL Poems

The Guy in the Glass

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf
And the world makes you King for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.

For it isn't your Father, or Mother, or Wife,
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He's the feller to please, never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear up to the end,
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You may be like Jack Horner and "chisel" a plumb
And think you're a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass thinks you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the guy in the glass.

By: Dale Wimbrow

(1895-1954)

Death of Polonius
at the hand of Hamlet

Polonius'Advice to Laertes

There—my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, nor gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;...
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,—to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

By: William Shakespeare

From The Present Crisis

1819-1891

When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's
aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to

west,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within
him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy

sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of
Time. ...

For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears
along,
Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash of right
or wrong;
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Humanity's vast

frame
Through its ocean-sundered fibres feels the gush of joy or
shame;—
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal
claim. ...

Drafted after the Battle of Antietem in

1862, Abraham Lincoln issued the

Emancipation Proclamation on January 1,
1863, freeing all slaves in Union-held territory.

We see dimly in the Present what is small and what is
great,
Slow of faith how weak an arm may turn the iron helm

of fate,
But the soul is still oracular amid the market's din,
List the ominous stern whispers from the Delphic cave
within,—
"They enslave their children's children who make com
promise with sin." ...

New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good
uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward, who would keep
abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pil-
grims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the des-
perate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted
key.

By: James Russell Lowell

Abraham Lincoln Statue inside the
Lincoln Memorial; Washington, D.C.

Abraham Lincoln's Letter to Mrs. Bixby

Executive Mansion

Washington, Nov 21, 1864

To Mrs. Bixby, Boston, Mass.

Dear Madam.

I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours very sincerely and respectfully.

A. Lincoln.

"On the walls of Brasenose College, Oxford University, England, this letter of the 'rail-splitter' President hangs as a model of purest English, rarely, if ever, surpassed."

From An American Bible

I KNOW: ...

Elbert Hubbard
1857-1915
Killed with his wife aboard the
RMS Lusitania during the Great War

That if I would secure reasonable happiness for myself, I must give out good-
will to others;
That to better my own condition I must practice mutuality;
That bodily health is necessary to continued and effective work;
That I am ruled largely by habit;
That habit is a form of exercise;
That up to a certain point, exercise means increased strength or ease in effort;
That all life is the expression of the spirit;
That my spirit influences my body,
And my body influences my spirit; ...
And that to eliminate fear my life must be dedicated to useful work—work in
which I forget myself;
That fresh air in abundance, and moderate, systematic exercise in the open air
are the part of wisdom;
That I can not afford, for my own sake, to be resentful nor quick to take offense;
That happiness is a great power for good,
And that happiness is not possible without moderation and equanimity;
That time turns all discords into harmony if [people] will but be kind and
patient,
And that the reward which life holds out for work is not idleness nor rest, nor
immunity from work, but increased capacity, GREATER

DIFFICULTIES, MORE WORK.

By: Elbert Hubbard

I Have a Dream

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. ...

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
1929-1968

"This is our hope. ... With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together ... to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. ...

"So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

"But not only that. Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi, from every mountain side. Let freedom ring. ...

"When we allow freedom to ring—when we let it ring from every city and every hamlet, and every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last, Free at last, Great God a-mighty, We are free at last."

By: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

MLK delivered this speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., USA, on August 28, 1963.

The Power of the Present

Dr. JJ, before he was a doctor, leads the

pack 600 meters into an 800 meter race

at Weber State University in the spring

of 2003. Running and racing has been an

important part of his life and identity.

Our grand business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance,
but to do what lies clearly at hand.

~ Thomas Carlyle

Beyond the haze of what we face,

There lies the track on which we'll race;

But what we often soon forget:

It's also 'neath our current pace.

We always look beyond the mists,

Squint through the fog toward future lists,

And rarely opt to seize the day:

The here, the now—so often missed!

In the best shape of my
life while running track
in college. Spring 2003.

For what we fail to contemplate,

The present's where we carve our fate,

And future's bliss' only secured,

By mastering what's now on our plate.

But if we grasp on to what's ours,

That's how we'll break our prison bars,

And rise in ways we'd never thought,

To mighty deeds and distant stars!

O man, no longer cast your view,

On things that aren't in front of you,

Do your best now, and trust in faith

That all things in their time shall find you.

—Dr. JJ

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce head amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Who Am I?

I am your constant companion.

I am your greatest helper or your heaviest burden.

I will push you onward or drag you down to failure.

I am completely at your command.

Half the things you do you might as well turn over to me,

And I will do them quickly and correctly.

I am easily managed, you must merely be firm with me.

Show me exactly how you want something done,

And after a few lessons I will do it automatically.

I am the servant of all great people,

And alas, of all failures as well.

Those who are great, I have made great!

Those who are failures, I have made failures!

I am not a machine;

Though I work with all the precision of a machine,

Plus the intelligence of a person.

You may run me for profit or run me for ruin;

It makes no difference to me.

Take me, train me, be firm with me,

And I will lay the world at your feet.

Be easy with me and I will destroy you.

Who am I?

I AM HABIT!

~ Anonymous

You Tell on Yourself

You tell on yourself by the friends you seek,
By the very manner in which you speak,

By the way you employ your leisure time,

By the use you make of dollar and dime,

You tell what you are by the things you wear,

By the spirit in which your burdens you bear,

By the kinds of things at which you laugh,

By the records you play on the phonograph,

You show what you are by the way you walk,

By the things of which you delight to talk,

By the manner in which you bear defeat,

By so simple a thing as how you eat,

By the books you choose from the well-filled shelf:

In these ways and more, you tell on yourself.

So, there really is no particle of sense,

In an effort to keep up false pretense.

—Anonymous

(Sometimes attributed to Marie Losavio)

MORTALITY

OH, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passeth from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together by laid;
And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall molder to dust and together shall lie.

THE infant a mother attended and loved;
The mother that infant's affection who proved;
The husband that mother and infant who blessed,
Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest.

THE maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure,—her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised,
Are alike from the minds of the living erased.

THE hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne;
The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn;
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave,
Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave.

THE peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap;
The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep;
The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread,
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

THE saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven,
The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.

So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed
That withers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.

FOR we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen,—
We drink the same stream and view the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;
To the life we are clinging they also would cling;
But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.

THEY loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;
They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.

They died, ay! they died: and we things that are now,
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow,
Who make in their dwelling a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

YEA! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain;
And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,—
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"

—William Knox

A PSALM of LIFE

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our heart, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great [ones] all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.

Change Yourself

Try not, my friend, to change what's life,

For life cannot be changed.

And trying only brings you strife

And leaves you nigh deranged.

Instead, work hard to change YOURSELF,

And as you do you'll find,

Growth, happiness, and wond'rous wealth,

Including peace of mind.

And neither try to change another,

That e'er ends in a mess;

Try instead to serve your brother,

With examples of goodness.

—Dr. JJ

INVICTUS

William Ernest Henley
1849-1903

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

—William Ernest Henley

YOU CHOOSE

Anyone who'll work and wait

Ensures good fate.

Anyone who'll never quit

Avoids the pit.

Anyone who keeps her soul,

By never casting off his goal,

Sets up a plea

For destiny

That's touched

By Serendipity.

Will You?

Will I?

I guess we'll see...

But this I know,

Though vague it be,

That all of us

Are FREE

To be

The kind of folk

We'd most like to be.

And in the end—

Deep down—

Each of us knows

That blame for failure

Truly goes

To every

Single soul

Who's free to choose—

To win

Or lose—

No matter how the battles rage.

Come wind, come storm, come ice and hail,

You'll always get your due earned wage.

Will YOU prevail?

Fly high and FREE?

Beyond the grasp of gravity?

The choice is YOURS

To win,

Or lose—

YOU CHOOSE!

—Dr. JJ

I Am Sovereign

I am Sovereign!

Today I affirm that

I am the captain of my own life.

I acknowledge that as such,

I am fully responsible for

My attitude,

My decisions,

My personal and professional results, and thus—

My life's long-term

Direction.

No one can take this power away from me,

Though if I choose, I can give it away to

Someone, or

Something else.

This I will never do,

For their is but one me in all history,

And my one shot at life

I will not waste!

In the past I have Blamed

Named,

Gamed, and

Shamed.

No more!

For now I know that I cannot control anyone

But myself.

Yet in that control—and

Aided by the grace and mercy of Serendipity—

I possess the power to

Defy Existential Gravity,

Create my world,

Design my destiny, and

Conquer the enemy within.

All along my journey toward

Self-transcendence

And

Beyond!

Why?

Because

Sovereign!

—Dr. JJ

WILL

THERE is no chance, no destiny, no fate, [that]

Can circumvent or hinder or control

The firm resolve of a determined soul.

Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;

All things give way before it, soon or late.

What obstacle can stay the mighty force

Of the sea-seeking river in its course,

Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?

Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.

Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate

Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,

Whose slightest action or inaction serves

The one great aim.

Why, even Death stands still,

And waits an hour sometimes for such a will. (4)

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Solitude

Ella Wheeler Wilcox
1850-1919

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone,

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air,

The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go.

They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all,—

There are none to decline your nectar'd wine,

But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded

Fast, and the world goes by.

Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a large and lordly train,

But one by one we must all file on

Through the narrow aisles of pain. (10)

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Slaying of the Beast

What holds me back from casting off?

"Why nothing!" said I with a laugh,

"But won't they sneer and scorn and scoff?"

"Of course!" said I, "And that's but half

Of all the calumny they'll heap,

Cov'ring me knee, waist, chest deep."

"When covered all, what then of you?"

The skeptic asked, his motive true,

"Will not they smother all the good,

And spoil God's gift of daily food?

Will not your efforts yet prove vain,

Leaving you with naught but pain?

And 'pon your soul, will yet remain

The deepest, darkest, blackest stain?"

"Nay, not so, dear friend, you're blind,

And I'm bereaved you've yet to find

The one true light that lights the mind,

And with this truth I'll now remind

You of this elementary right:

That God's endowed me with a might,

That's free to those willing to fight.

And with pure weaponry so real,

I've got an everlasting sight

That cuts deep through this earthen plight,

And lifts me far beyond the night

They'd gladly cast me ever toward—

A death incurred by my own sword.

"The beauty of seeing clearly,

To recognize the foe 'tis me,

Not you, but me, yes yes, it's me!

To think that they're the enemy

Is fiercely falsified foolishness!

"And knowing now the facts—the sum,

There's nothing outside me to fear,

The real demon's much more near—

And clear—insidiously in my ear,

Yes! Each one plots their own dam fall,

But for those who come to see

That fiend alive in you and me,

Yet to make the choice—a firm resolve—

To kill the beast that doth evolve

Inside myself, then vict'ries won

In utter solitude... alone.

No shouts or cheers,

No joyful tears,

No thundering applause,

No commendation and no praise,

No rave reviews, no front page craze

Accompanies the slaying of

The beast inside myself.

"But once the demon has been slain

the onward march of time makes plain

The end of it's the start of me—

My pending public victory, (3)

And my eternal destiny."

—Dr. JJ

Become a BUILDER

The world has too many critics; it needs more creators.

The world has too many theorists; it needs more practitioners.

The world has too much deconstruction; it needs more construction and reconstruction.

The world has too many pundits and planners; it needs more players and producers.

The world is full of good ideas, noble dreams, and worthy visions; it needs more people who realize them. (1)

I therefore salute the builders; and call upon every man, woman, boy, and girl

In this world who is not a builder to become one.

Join me, and together we'll make something magnificent of your life.

And in the process, imagine, create, and build things that will leave the world a better place

Than you found it, making YOU one of the honored and revered persons known simply as:

A BUILDER.

—Dr. JJ

JJ's Personal Creed

I am a simple man

With a simple plan.

To live each day the best that I can:

To live simply and pace myself,

With an eye ever focused on long-term ends.

To learn what is right and then do it;

To know what is wrong and eschew it.

To practice fidelity unto my wife—

My best friend, my lover, the joy of my life.

To hearken to conscience—the voice of God's Spirit—

And e'er do my duty whenever I hear it

Call me to lift child, sister, or brother,

And e'er be the change that I wish in another.

God give me strength to always be true,

In Christ's name I pray, through whose blood I'm made new.

Amen.

—Dr. JJ

Be Strong

Be strong!

We are not here to play, to dream, to drift.

We have hard work to do, and loads to lift.

Shun not the struggle; face it. 'Tis God's gift.

Be strong!

Say not the days are evil,—whose to blame?

And fold the hands and acquiesce—O shame!

Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.

Be strong!

It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,

How hard the battle goes, the day, how long.

Faint not, fight on! To-morrow comes the song. (2)

—Maltbie Davenport Babcock

The Finish Line

The day was lost, as many had.

Another gone, a tragic fad.

Lost, yet I, not really through,

Still saw some hope to start anew,

And climb back up into the sky.

And yet, such fret did cross my face—

For to realize

The length still in the race

Placed teardrops in my salty eyes.

Then, in the midst of agony,

My Rubicon comes, and I resolve:

I must not quit,

Run, race the way,

Claw my way out of this pit,

And then one day,

Stand boldly up,

And humbly say:

"Time is done,

And I have crossed

The Finish Line."

—JRJ

Life Sculpture

Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy

With his marble block before him.

And his eyes lit up with a smile of joy,

As an angel-dream passed o'er him.

He carved the dream on that shapeless stone,

With many a sharp incision;

With heaven's own light the sculpture shone—

He'd caught that angel-vision.

Children of life are we, as we stand

With our lives uncarved before us,

Waiting the hour when, at God's command,

Our life-dream shall pass o'er us.

If we carve it then on the yielding stone,

With many a sharp incision,

Its heavenly beauty shall be our own,—

Our lives, that angel-vision.

—George Washington Doane

Coarsely Crossed

Coarsely crossed, the angst-filled smart

Of agony did fill my heart.

An outgrowth of my humbling path,

Bedecked with the Refiner's wrath,

That ripped my soul and taxed my mind,

Beat me through life's unending grind,

That was ordained to make a king,

Who after night is o'er will sing

A thousand praises to the cause,

That aided an end to my flaws.

As for the realms of royal right,

I will transcend the cold, dark, night,

And gratefully begin to see,

The road into eternity's

A path that starts and ends with He—

And all between calls upon me!

—Dr. JJ

Consternated Underneath

Consternated underneath

A soul that's ever burdened,

With all I am,

And all I'm not,

And all I want to be!

O please, dear God, do not forsake

My ever-anxious mind.

Be always near me,

Is my prayer—

And peace

Help me

To find.

—JRJ

SONNET

The Passage of Time

Thanks be to God for the passage of time,

That life marches on to a welcomed grave,

Where at last we may hasten the sublime

Status of living in a new enclave

Outside of TIME—that fleeting enemy—

Which serveth death to each blessed moment

We fain would prolong throughout eternity,

Yet elongates obsessive moments sent,

Perpetuating all with interest

Into the rusted trappings of the mind,

Wherein we may perpetually invest

In joy that ne'er dies, or pain that e'er grinds

To piece and powder all my use of time.

I pray that I may yet summit the climb.

—Dr. JJ

SONNET

The World is Not Enough With Me

The world is not enough with me—NOW,

Too much time spent thinking and forecasting,

Trying too hard to see it all—blasting

The feelings of peace—I fail to allow

Real emotions, the wonder—the WOW!

The satisfied sense of sweat on my brow;

That pure joy—so spontaneous in youth—

The unsullied acquisition of truth:

It moves me not! Great God, I'd rather be

A zealot, willing to fight and to die

For any just cause that might make me free,

Unshackle my brain from perplexing whys,

What e'er it may take, or how I must cloy

To gain the God-granted privilege of joy.

—Dr. JJ

A Two-Edged Sword

OCD:

What has it done for me?

Is it my friend?

Or my enemy?

The answer,

You see,

Though I've

Oft been its slave—

Pathological knave!—

Made me crave for the grave,

Yet somehow,

Someway,

As I've labored

Each day,

I've now been set free,

Through the efforts of me...

And Serendipity.

Yes it does rather seem

That my nightmare extreme,

Sometimes guised as a dream,

And a good one, forsooth!

For in truth

I behold,

That for brain hygiene's gold,

I must work hard to mine,

Spending mountains of time,

Sweating tears as I pine,

Many years 'ere I find,

That the cure for my mind—

So oft plagued by the grind—

Is just like that gold,

Mixed betwixt all the old,

Common, cheap, rocky ore,

Whose plentiful store

Hides all worth

Worth pursuing,

Investing,

Accruing,

Thus, there's no need for

Stewing,

For Freedom's

Now

Mine,

And ever can be

Into eternity,

If I'll never

Forget...

That the price

Involves sweat,

And avoiding

Regret,

And that

I'm only set

When I see

I'm not yet;

And then rightly perceive,

That in time I'll receive

A most pleasant reprieve

That's as grand,

I believe,

As it badly began,

As if alchemy's claim

Held pure gold—not cheap sand.

So, I'll hold on to fight,

Through each day

And each night,

With a pure tranquil

Might,

That affirms

I'm all right;

And ne'er e'er forgetting

The puzzling piece

Of the pie

Peck calls (31)

Grace—

So truly AMAZING—

To see its pow'r

Razing

My mind's ills

Erasing,

With help from my

Pills,

Wills,

Shrink,

Gal,

And SAL

To boot,

But shoot!

What a pathetic

Hoot

I would be

On my own,

Although I'm now full grown,

And have carefully sown

Seeds of thoughtful decision,

Ignoring derision,

Crafting nobly a vision—

Important!—

Yes all;

But lest I should

Fall,

I will never

Forget

The Source

That doth heal,

With sweet salve that is

Real—

As real as YOU—

and me—

And OCD,

And the help,

And the cure—

Or the management—

Here and

Now,

As I await its ultimate

Eradication

THEN...

By HIM:

As long as

Part.

—Dr. JJ

Progress

Alas, my inmost heart breaks free,

From all that has been stopping me.

And I exult in all that will

Break forth into my life yet still.

It cannot happen overnight;

It can't all fall within my sight,

But over time I'll make my quest—

To bit-by-bit become my best.

There is still so much to learn,

Things to achieve and things to earn.

Folks to meet—my heart doth burn—

As for it all I greatly yearn!

This anxious state amidst it all,

Oft seems to blur my life's true call;

Yet spite the pain and petty pelf,

I'll still claim vict'ry over self.

And meantime I'll enjoy the ride,

And bask in the abundance here.

My life will be serene inside,

And outside I'll be filled with cheer.

—Dr. JJ

Sometimes with One I Love

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage
for fear I effuse unreturn'd love,

But now I think there is no unreturn'd love,

the pay is certain one way or another,

(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,

Yet out of that I have written these songs.)

—Walt Whitman

Summum Bonum

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the

Bag of one bee:

All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the

heart of one gem:

In the core of one pearl all the shade and the

Shine of the sea:

Breath and bloom, shade and shine—wonder,

Wealth, and—how far above them—

Truth, that's brighter than gem,

Trust, that's purer than pearl—

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe—

All were for me

In the kiss of one girl.

—Robert Browning

Sonnet
Unveils far More

The pure unsullied sweetness in her face,
Unveils far more than just mere pulchritude.
Her every movement filled with perfect grace,
Hides inner beauty most have never viewed.
The eye itself so poorly judges light,
And oft ensnares mere senses in its grasp,
Rewarding far too much on simple sight,
Ignoring all that's held in a soul's clasp.
But when her inner majesty's revealed,
To one who recognizes Godly grace,
'Tis like a vision of a pure gold field,
Enriching outer beauty in her face.
Alas, my most rewarding quest shall be:
To find her grace and share eternity.

—Dr. JJ

She Was

She was...

An angelic figure of embryonic divinity,
A guileless goddess of perfect pristinity,
My unmatch'ed match throughout all infinity...

This girl that I met just today.

—Dr. JJ

The Beauty of Her Voice

Although I've never seen her face,
Her voice is sweet as honey,
It speaks refinement and pure grace,
That can't be bought with money.

'Tis 'mazing how her tone enchants
My heart and soul and mind,
The lovely sound for me implants
Hope that my eyes might find...

Her face and form and outer light,
And with that meet and mingle.
Then listen to her voice so bright,
My ear for her is single!

Yes hope and words and inner spirit,
All proclaim her golden worth.
And when her sweet voice I hear it,
My am'rous heart is filled with mirth!

—Dr. JJ

COLUMBUS

Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores;
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone,
Brave Adm'r'l speak; what shall I say?"
"Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"

"My men grow mutinous day by day;
My men grow ghastly wan and weak."
The stout mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
"Why, you shall say, at break of day:
'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"
They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak, brave Adm'r'l, speak and say"—
He said: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.
He curls his lips, he lies in wait,
With lifted teeth, as if to bite!
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"

Then, pale and worn, he paced his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck—
A light! a light! At last a light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"

—Joaquin Miller

Keep a-Goin'

If you strike a thorn or rose,

Keep a-goin!

If it hails or if it snows,

Keep a-goin!

'Taint no use to sit an' whine

When the fish ain't on your line;

Bait your hook an' keep a-tryin;—

Keep a-goin!

When the weather kills your crop,

Keep a-goin!

Though 'tis work to reach the top,

Keep a-goin!

S'pose you're out o' ev'ry dime,

Gittin' broke ain't any crime;

Tell the world you're feelin' prime—

Keep a-goin!

When it looks like all is up,

Keep a-goin!

Drain the sweetness from the cup,

Keep a-goin!

See the wild birds on the wing,

Hear the bells that sweetly ring,

When you feel like singin', sing—

Keep a-goin!

—Frank L. Stanton

Waiting

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,

Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,

For lo! My own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays—

For what avails this eager pace?

I stand amid the eternal ways

And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,

The friends I seek are seeking me,

No wind can drive my bark astray

Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?

I wait with joy the coming years;

My heart shall reap where it has sown,

And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw

The brook that springs in yonder height;

So flows the good with equal law

Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,

Can keep my own away from me.

—John Burroughs

The Impossible Dream

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow,
To run where the brave dare not go.

To right the unrightable wrong,
To love pure and chaste from afar,
To try when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star.

This is my quest,
To follow that star,
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far,
To fight for the right,
Without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause.

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star!

—From the musical, Man of La Mancha

I Am Somebody

I am somebody,
I am very special,
I am here today because
I want to learn something that I did not know.
I promise I will not cause problems for my teachers, classmates, school, friends, or myself.

I will let nothing stop me from achieving my goals.

I will not let you stop me from achieving my goals.

I will help you to achieve your goals.

I will achieve the goals that I have set for myself.

With you or apart from you my friend.

—Thresa Brooks

I Am Sovereign (Classroom version)

As the Captain of my life, I understand that I am responsible for
my thoughts, my words, my decisions, my grade, and ultimately, my future.

Knowing this gives me power—personal power—to make good choices, do the right thing, (2) and be successful at Cy-Ridge High School and beyond.

No one can take this power away from me, though if I choose

I can give it away to someone or something else.

This I will never do. For there is but one me in all history,

And my one shot at life I will not waste.

Just for today, (3) I will respect myself by respecting my school, my teachers, my classmates, and by doing my best to master what I am supposed to learn.

I know that I cannot control anyone or anything but myself. Yet with that control I create my world, design my destiny, and conquer the enemy within. Today I choose to be successful in school and in life, because...

I Am Sovereign!

Gradatim

HEAVEN is not reached at a single bound;

But we build the ladder by which we rise

From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,

And we mount to its summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:

That a noble deed is a step toward God,—

Lifting the soul from the common clod

To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by the things that are under our feet;

By what we have mastered of good and gain;

By the pride deposed and the passion slain,

And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,

When the morning calls us to life and light,

But our hearts grow weary, and, ere the night,

Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,

And we think that we mount the air on wings

Beyond the call of sensual things,

While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.

Wings for the angels, but feet for men!

We may borrow the wings to find the way—

We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, and pray;

But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown

From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;

But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,

And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;

But we build the ladder by which we rise

From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,

And we mount to its summit, round by round.

—Josiah Gilbert Holland

Nobility

Queen Victoria of Great Britain
Lived from 1820-1901
Reigned from 1837-1901

While most of us are not born a King or Queen
in a literal sense, all of us have the potential
to become existential royalty over time.

TRUE worth is in being, not seeming—

In doing each day that goes by

Some little good—not in dreaming

Of great things to do by and by.

For whatever men say in blindness

And spite of the fancies of youth,

There's nothing so kingly as kindness,

And nothing so royal as truth.

We get back our mete as we measure—

We cannot do wrong and feel right,

Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,

For justice avenges each slight.

The air for the wing of the sparrow,

The bush for the robin and wren,

But alway[s] the path that is narrow

And straight, for the children of men.

'Tis not in the pages of story

The heart of its ills to beguile,

Though he who makes courtship to glory

Gives all that he hath for her smile.

For when from her heights he has won her,

Alas! it is only prove

That nothing's so sacred as honor,

And nothing so loyal as love!

We cannot make bargains for blisses,

Nor catch them like fishes in nets;

And sometimes the thing our life misses,

Helps more than the thing which it gets.

For good lieth not in pursuing,

Nor gaining of great nor of small,

But just in the doing, and doing

As we would be done by, is all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating,

Against the world, early and late,

No jot of our courage abating—

Our part is to work and to wait.

And slight is the sting of his trouble

Whose winnings are less than his worth;

For he who is honest is noble,

Whatever his fortunes or birth.

—Alice Cary

Will
THERE is no chance, no destiny, no fate,
[That] can circumvent or hinder or control
The firm resolve of a determined soul. ...

Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.
Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
Whose slightest action or inaction serves
The one great aim. Why, even Death stands still,
And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ode on Intimations of Immortality

Forget the glories [we have] known
And that imperial palace whence [we] came. [For...]

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The soul that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.

—William Wordsworth

Not in Vain

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

—Emily Dickinson

The Finish Line: Part II

The day was won,

As many had,

Another gained—

A glorious fad!

Won, yet I,

Not really through,

Still saw new dangers

Lurking true.

And yet,

Such hope did fill my soul:

For to realize

The dragons

God and I had slain,

Empowered me and

Gave me rest.

And with my newfound

Strength and power,

I'll boldly take on each new hour,

Resolved beyond the tempter's snares,

I am equipped to meet all cares.

And so prepared,

And thus empowered,

My sword—once set in stone's—

Allowed to be be drawn forth

To help me fight,

And race,

To win,

And make it

Through the night

First Place

In the most important

Race of all—

The one that pits me

Against me

And Existential Gravity—

That I might

Each day

Stand boldly up

and humbly say:

"As time moves on,

I will keep on...

And on...

To cross

Each Finish

Line."

—JRJ

The Sun-Dial at Wells College

FOR THE CLASS OF 1904

The shadow by my finger cast
Divides the future from the past:
Before it, sleeps the unborn hour,
In darkness, and beyond thy power:
Behind its unreturning line,
The vanished hour, no longer thine:
One hour alone is in thy hands,—
The NOW on which the shadow stands.

March, 1904

—Henry Van Dyke

DREAMS

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

—Langston Hughes

IF—

IF YOU can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Rudyard Kipling
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up again with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!

—Rudyard Kipling

—Dr. JJ

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, USA

Author's Note: This is the 529th Blog Post Published by Freedom Focused LLC since November 2013 and the 311th consecutive weekly blog published since August 31, 2020.

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