✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 357–HAPPY NEW YEAR!🌟
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback

Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity break a sweat.
Headlining at Bally’s in Atlantic City, I wasn’t just on top of the world—
I was tossing it in the air and catching it with a grin. 😄
 
Clubs flew like they had minds of their own—
Alive, rebellious, thrilled to be part of the act.
Seven of them.  A world record.
Because why juggle five when you can politely insult physics?
   
Life back then?
✨ Dazzling. ✨ Sparkly. ✨ Roaring with applause.
The kind of applause that makes your bones hum and
Your heart says, Yes… this. This is it. 🎉
   
Then came the truck…
The coma…
My long nap…
The long, silent hallway of nothingness.
37-days where the world kept turning, but I wasn’t in it.
   
And yet—look at me now.
Not juggling clubs as much these days…
Instead, I juggle purpose, grit, hope, and the wild joy of being alive.
I toss resilience into the air and catch courage behind my back.
I balance healing on my chin and possibility on my toes.
   
My mission?
Oh, it outgrew the stage a long time ago.
Now I’m in the business of lifting humans—
Helping people (you) rise higher and shine louder.
Dreaming braver than you ever thought you could.
       
Because the show’s not over.
Not by a long shot.
And this version of me?
Helping you to reach a higher level.
I’m carrying more magic than ever.
   
I need a connection to the world.
Writing this blog fulfills that desire.
It helps me more than it helps you.
I write exactly how I feel.
I hope my words please you.
         
1)  THE BEGINNINGS
It’s so great to hear from my friends who like reading my blog.
Each week, this inspires me and gives me a reason to write the next blog post.
     
Never sure about what to put in this part of the blog, but here it is.
Every week, I give it my all and hope that my words grab you and help you advance.
   
Even though there are so many therapists and patients around me,
I often feel very alone. What I truly long for is sincere and straightforward—to be with someone.
Someone to care for, to share life with, to love… and to be loved in return.
   
Maybe that person is you.
And if not, perhaps you know someone whose heart might meet mine halfway.
There are people here, but I feel more alone than ever.
I really miss being in love with someone.

When I’m with someone, I’m all in—no games, no wandering, just truth.
My passion runs deep and can sometimes feel like a tidal wave.
Either way, thank you for listening.
It means more than I can ever say. 🌱💖

    2)  THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
(Please, let me know what you did this week, too.)

======
12/20–Where is everybody?
======
Because it’s the weekend, things are painfully quiet here at NR. Most people stay in their rooms, and the place feels stalled—like life is on pause. It’s sad. Just across the street is a large, open grassy area where people could walk, move, breathe, and feel human again.
   
There’s virtually no traffic on the weekends—there weren’t many cars passing by when I was out there. People could be out there playing and exercising in the sun. With minimal supervision, this could be done safely. Instead, weekends feel like a missed opportunity for connection, movement, and dignity. At times, it truly feels less like living and more like confinement.
   
I just came in from my daily cleanup of the garden, patio, and the area outside the buildings. Once again, I’m stunned by how much litter—especially cigarette butts—ends up on the ground. I picked up more than 50 butts in just a couple of days. I don’t understand why tossing them on the ground has become part of the habit. There are receptacles and trash cans available. The habit itself is bad enough; littering makes it worse.
 
I don’t know if anyone notices that I go out there several times a week to clean. I do it because I care about this place and the people in it—but it would be nice to feel that effort is seen and supported.
     
Myles, can you spread the word about using the receptacles provided instead of the ground? A small change like that would make a meaningful difference.
     
Lastly, it’s been four days since I’ve had a shower. I’m not doing anything that causes perspiration, so hygiene hasn’t been an immediate issue. I usually shower when I have an appointment or when discomfort and itching set in—typically after two or three days. I’m sharing this simply because it reflects the reality of how slow and inactive weekends are here.
 
I can understand why, with the bit of sleep I get.
There is a slight grassy area out the door where I can juggle. It was too small,
but it is big enough for 3 club juggling. I also put ribbons on two clubs so I
can do swinging with the clubs, with the ribbons trailing behind and looking good.
     
Nothing is happening here, oh well. I am on the computer doing what I do.
I just read this: “A satisfied life is better than a successful life.”
Those words hit me just right. I am happy with how my Life is going.
How about you? Are you satisfied with your success?
   
Actually, today I have become quite happy.
Joy is up to each of us and how we face life.
We constantly have this choice.
Choose right, every time.
======
12/22 — Choosing Depth Over Cupcakes
>>>>>
Today’s official schedule?  OT from 10–11 a.m. That’s it.
When I arrived, they were frosting cupcakes. Sweet. Festive.
Hard pass. I chose something richer.  🧁✋
   
I poured myself into this blog instead. Wrestled with
Section 3 is like a worthy opponent.
Writing those stories stretched me, challenged me, lit me up.
That kind of work leaves you tired in the best way—
The way that says, Yes, you’re still alive. Yes, you still care.
======
12/23 — Grit, Glue, and Guts
>>>>>
I haven’t been wearing my retainer much.
History lesson: it pops loose, comes unglued, makes a dramatic escape from my mouth. 🎭
Today, I tried again.
More adhesive. More patience.
Let’s see how it behaves.
     
Still, having these invaders in my mouth is uncomfortable.
Every time I wear the retainer,
It’s a sharp reminder of the terrible decision I made:
I had all my lower teeth extracted.
That regret doesn’t whisper.
It clears its throat and speaks loudly.
   
But I just watched a video about a guy who had his upper and lower teeth removed. He has a retainer that screws into his jaw, which is what I want. He said after he got used to it, the new teeth were fantastic. He said that missing or broken teeth can significantly affect your health.
   
The Quiet Weight of Loneliness.
Aloneness comes and goes.
Loneliness walks beside me most days.
Here at NeuroRestorative, it feels like there’s a wall between me and the real world—
Ihick, Invisible, Soundproof.
   
I haven’t seen anyone.
I don’t even know how to set something up from here.
So let me ask you—straight up:
Are you going to visit me?
Because I could really use that.
   
Living Among the Wounded
Being here with other brain injury survivors is hard.
Bob—right across the hall—is moaning and yelling full throttle today.
I wish I had a way to make a recording; you would be very interested.
Interesting for you, and for me.
     
There are 28 patients here now.
Every single one has something visibly wrong with them.
And I wonder…Do I?… Are my struggles obvious?
Or am I just quietly fighting my battles behind my eyes?
     
Floors, Silence, and Forgotten People
My room is on the third floor.
Myles’ office is on the first floor.
No one’s around. And I expect that emptiness to linger for days.
     
I went downstairs earlier.
The first floor feels heavier—more damage, more visible loss.
Two people in wheelchairs sat parked in front of the TV.
Just… stationed there.  Forgotten.
That didn’t sit right with me.  Not at all.
   
A Christmas That Doesn’t Quite Fit
It’s 11:25 a.m.
People are gathering for the Christmas celebration—about 30 of us now. 🎄
The third-floor kitchen is buzzing.
They’re playing Hangman.
I’m not playing.
I’m here. Writing to you.
     
I tried standing around. It didn’t work.
I’m not in a festive mood today—
Not with this crowd, not right now.
Food came later—Sunny’s Barbecue.
And I’ll give credit where it’s due:
It was damn good. 🍖🔥
   
Perspective, Earned the Hard Way
At least a dozen people here rely on aids—
Wheelchairs, walkers, supports of every kind.
And that reality hits me square in the chest:
I can walk. I can run.

What, exactly, is wrong with me?
That matters.  That’s not small.
That’s something to be grateful for—
Even on days that feel heavy, lonely, and painfully quiet.
Still here.  Still standing and still writing.
And that, my friend, counts. 💥
======
12/24 — The Long Pause (Now Featuring Jokes)
>>>>>>
Today feels like a weekend that forgot how calendars work.
A long pause.
A festive nothingburger with a side of déjà vu.
   
I went out for my daily scavenger hunt—collecting rubbish and cigarette butts, which seem to regenerate overnight like some urban fungus. Not much today. Either people behaved themselves, or the litter finally got tired of me winning.
Then it happened.
A staff member looked at me and said, “Thank you for what you do.”
Boom.
Instant serotonin.
Five words, zero calories, 100% effective.
   
Therapy schedule for the entire day:
🥁 One session.
Speech therapy at 11 a.m.
Thirty minutes.
That’s not a schedule—that’s a commercial break.
   
I expected things to slow down as Christmas approached, but this feels less like “holiday mode” and more like “everyone quietly vanished mode.” Still, even one appointment gives the day a skeleton. Without it, time just flops around like a jellyfish.
   
Speech therapy was with Dino—smart guy, sharp thinker, no-nonsense brain. Dino doesn’t have beliefs; he has results. He does what needs doing and moves on. Refreshing. This is my one chance if a therapy today, hope it goes well.
   
He also introduced me to ChatGPT, which means I now have a tireless thinking partner who never interrupts, never gets bored, and doesn’t steal my snacks. We talked blogs, ideas, mental frameworks, future topics—all the good stuff. Seeds planted. No watering schedule yet.
   
Then—like a cat knocking something off a shelf—my brain immediately leapt to my teeth. 🐈💥
Because of infection, a few had to come out.
Logical. Sensible. Medical.
   
When I made the executive decision to remove all my lower teeth. Why? Unknown. Mystery. Possibly a moment of extreme optimism or temporary insanity.
I now have replacements, a retainer. I use fake teeth. I tolerate them.
But “getting used to them” remains a long-term science experiment with mixed results. Some mistakes fade. This one sends daily reminders, like a push notification from the past: “Hey, remember me?”
 
I’ve also decided to grow my facial hair again. My hair grows so fast that if I cut it twice a day, it feels like a part-time job with no benefits. So instead, I let it all grow—beard, head, everything—and then once a week, I mow it down to a neat quarter-inch.
Low maintenance.
High efficiency.
The Costco model of grooming.
     
Nothing major happened today.
I spent most of it on the computer—writing, thinking, wandering mental hallways.
Occasionally, I’d stare into space like a philosopher who forgot why he stood up.
Not a big day.
Not a bad day.
   
Just one of those quietly human days where you show up, clean the world a little,
think some thoughts, crack a joke at your own expense, and call it progress.
Honestly?
I’ll take it.    
======    
12/25 — Merry Christmas!  🤹🏻‍♂️
>>>>>
As I awoke on this Christmas morning, my mind smiled.
Of course, there are people here who have to work on this holiday.
Polite. Safe. Slightly… beige. 😐
An extra special “Thank you” to them.
   
I could say, “Happy Holidays!”
But that feels like waving with mittens on.
So I’ll say it properly: Merry Christmas! 🎄
Loud. Clear. With bells on.
   
And this year, instead of wrapping paper and bows,
I handed out flying objects.
I’ve taught at least 25 people here how to juggle—
Scarves in the air, eyes wide, laughter popping like ornaments. 🎁🤹‍♂️
     
If Christmas needed a bow, it’d be spinning mid-air.
That absolutely counts as my Christmas gift.
Add some tinsel and juggle it with flair. ✨🎄
     
She was making her rounds at **3:58 a.m.**
I was already awake—because of course I was.
Then I heard it, floating down the hallway like a tiny wrapped gift:

**” Merry Christmas.”**
Well… that’ll do it.   Instant wake-up call. 🎁⚡
Feet on the floor. Brain humming. Heart surprisingly warm.
   
So here I am—early, moving, alive—working on this blog **for you** while the world still snoozes.
**Good morning. Merry Christmas.** You’re reading this the day *after* Christmas, and I hope yours had laughter, love, and at least one moment that made you stop and smile.
   
Now here’s the plot twist.
There was a time in my life when I **never** imagined I’d wake up *here* on Christmas morning.
Not even in the weirdest alternate-universe daydream.
Do you see yourself ever waking up in a place like this?
     
In some ways, I feel like I was dropped into this place without a map—
No exit sign blinking, no clear path out.
Trapped?
Some days, yeah… it feels like that.
   
And yet—
People are kind.  People show up.  We lean on each other.
We do our best to make the day a little brighter for everyone in the room.
Still…December 25–here?
   
Feels like any other Wednesday, wearing a Santa hat. 🎅
No sparkle. No parade. No “ta-da!” Nothing special. Nothing is going on.
And somehow… I’m still here. Still writing and still wishing you joy.
Still finding light at **3:58 a.m.**
Funny how Christmas sneaks in anyway. ✨
     
🎄 Christmas: Now Featuring Sparkle, Silence, and Non-Teeth 🎄
   
Just went out to clean the patio and garden.
Good news: it was mostly sparkly. ✨
Bad news: a few cigarette butts and pieces of rubbish had escaped captivity.
I rounded them up like a festive trash sheriff.
Ho ho ho—law and order. 🧹😆
   
And yet—
Despite all these humans within a 50-foot radius,
This may be the loneliest Christmas I’ve ever experienced.
The hallways are quieter than a library on mute.
No laughter. No chatter. No accidental Christmas caroling disasters.
Just closed doors.  So many closed doors. 🚪🚪🚪
     
I really wish you were here with me.
At least we could whisper jokes and get kicked out together.
Around 3 p.m., they had a Christmas dinner downstairs.
Very nice. Very festive.
Unfortunately, my mouth is currently operating under the “No Chewing Allowed” policy.
Ah, yes—my teeth.   Or rather… my former teeth. 🦷✌️
   
Nothing to wrestle with.   Nothing to sink my gums into with enthusiasm.
I remember reading somewhere that bad teeth can negatively affect your life.
Mood. Health. Outlook.
So naturally, I responded by saying,
“Let’s remove ALL of them.”
Because I don’t do anything halfway. 🎯😬
   
I was sitting at a table downstairs when I suddenly said—out loud—
“WHAT AM I DOING HERE?”
No inside voice.   No warning.
Just me and my existential microphone drop. 🎤
   
I looked around. Blank stares everywhere.
No reaction. No sparkle. No joy.
Like a room full of people waiting for a reboot that never comes. 🔄😶
I felt sorry for them.  Truly.  And then I felt something else—
I do not belong here. I stayed a bit longer, trying to be noble.
     
Trying to be patient.
Trying not to scream,
“Is anyone else seeing this?”
Eventually, I bailed and came back upstairs to my room.
   
Instantly—Bob.
The moaning.  The sounds.  The unexpected holiday soundtrack no one asked for. 🎶😬
If Spotify had a category called “Existential Groans,”
Bob would be the featured artist of the month.
   
In my room, I had a big bowl of Chocolate Chip Ice Cream–BECAUSE I COULD!
   
Here’s the truth, wrapped in tinsel:
I am not happy here.  Not even a little bit.
Not even on Christmas with imaginary gravy.
And the extra-honest truth?  I don’t know how to get out.  Or what I’d do if I did.
   
🎉 BREAKING NEWS FROM THE DESSERT DEPARTMENT 🎉
I do have some good news—and it comes with crust. 🥧
As I was making my dramatic exit (cue slow-motion walk), one of the staff members spotted me, came to my room, and presented three different pie slices she had brought, like a game-show showcase. 
“Pick one,” she said—basically the Wheel of Fortune of desserts.
I chose pumpkin pie, because of course I did. 🎃
Wise. Noble. Seasonal.
   
And here’s the kicker:
That small, kind, pie-powered moment did way more than feed my stomach.
It fed my spirit.
It whispered, You’re seen. You matter. You’re not invisible today.
Thoughts that I needed to hear.
   
Never underestimate the power of a simple kindness…
Especially when it’s served on a plate with whipped cream potential. 😄✨
Sometimes hope shows up disguised as dessert.
And today?  Hope tasted like pumpkin pie. 🥧💥
   
I do know this:
This place doesn’t get to define me.  This chapter doesn’t get the final word.
And this Christmas—quiet, awkward, toothless and strange—
It is not the end of my story.
     
It’s just the weird middle part.  The part you laugh about later.
The part where you survive, observe, and secretly level up. 🎮✨
Still here. Still aware. Still asking big questions. Still alive.
And frankly—
That’s one hell of a Christmas gift. 🎁😄
=====
12/26 — The Day After
>>>>>
Woke up around 3 a.m. for a classic midnight.🚶‍♂️💧
(okay… early-morning) bathroom adventure
And then—cue the confetti—victory! 🎉
I crawled back into bed and boom… fell right back asleep. 😴✨
Small win. Big smile.
Life leaned over, gave me a wink, and said, “Nice work.” 🌙💙
   
Then came my daily garden/patio patrol. 🌿
And once again, I was reminded that some smokers
seem to believe littering is part of the ritual—
like a ceremonial offering to the ground. 🚬🤦‍♂️
Empty packs. Endless butts. Every. Single. Day.
Today’s haul? Two large #10 cans worth.
That’s not cleanup—that’s commitment.
     
Later, there was a community get-together called a “Town Hall Meeting.”
Hosted by Christine, who works alongside Myles.
The flyer promised a space “to communicate comments,
concerns, recommendations, suggestions, and questions.”
Translation: Speak now, humans. 🎤
   
About 15 residents attended—wheelchairs lined up like a thoughtful council.
I spoke up, offered a few solid suggestions, and felt good doing it.
Participation matters. Voice matters.
Even here. Especially here. 🌱💪
   
Another day.  A few wins.
Some trash was lifted. Some sleep reclaimed.
Progress—quiet, steady, and very real. 🌟

3) 🌟BLOG 357–HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Here are some unique stories to occupy your time.
Make this New Year’s a fantastic Holiday for you.
These seven stories are my gift to you. 😃

    ==========
🎉🎓 A–New Year, New Test… Same Old Excuses 🎓🎉
Once upon a very irresponsible evening—right between
“I’ll start fresh in the New Year” and “One more party won’t hurt”…
Four college kids rang in the season the traditional way:
🎉 Party now
📚 Study later
🎆 Make bold resolutions they fully intend to ignore by morning.
       
Books? Next year.
Big test tomorrow?
Midnight confetti fell.
Morning reality hit.
Cue The Great New Year’s Excuse Plan.

They greased up. They dirtied down.
They looked less like scholars and more like extras from
Survivor: New Semester Edition.
Off they marched to the Dean’s office,
Still buzzing with leftover optimism and possibly champagne bubbles.
   
“Our tale,” they sighed, deeply wounded by fate,
“It’s tragic. We went to a wedding last night—New Year’s cheer and all. On the way back—BAM! Flat tire. Had to push the car all the way back to campus. A heroic start to the year, really.”
   
The Dean listened.
He nodded.
He smiled.
⚠️( Never trust the calm smile—especially in January.)
   
“Well,” he said warmly, “in the spirit of fresh starts…
You may take the test three days from now.”
The students floated out like angels on academic probation. 😇✨
New year! Second chance! Destiny is kind!
   
Three days later—
Well-rested, well-studied, and absolutely convinced the universe was on their side—they returned.
The Dean placed them…
In separate rooms.
   
“No worries,” they thought.
“We’re new-year versions of ourselves now.”
They opened the test.
Two questions.
1️⃣ Your Name: ____________________ (1 point)
2️⃣ Which tire burst? _______________ (99 points)
Options:
(a) Front Left
(b) Front Right
(c) Back Left
(d) Back Right
😳😳😳😳
Happy New Year.
     
🎆 Lesson of the Year:
New year, same physics.
Shortcuts still have potholes.
Excuses expire faster than resolutions.
And life—much like the Dean—continuously checks the details.
     
So here’s your New Year’s wisdom nugget:
Be responsible.
Make wise choices.
And if you’re going to lie…
At least agree on which tire blew! 🚗💥😄
✨ Cheers to learning early, laughing often, and starting the year smarter than last time. 🎉
==========
🎉🐪 B–New Year, New Desert (Or… the Zoo?) 🐪🎉
As the clock ticked toward a brand-new year, a mama camel and her baby were lounging under a tree—doing that deep, reflective end-of-year thinking camels are famous for. 🕛✨
     
The baby camel stretched, yawned, and asked the kind of question that sounds simple… but isn’t:
“Mom… why do we have humps?” Mama camel smiled wisely, like someone who’s already made and broken a few New Year’s resolutions.
   
“Well, sweetheart, we’re desert animals.
These humps store water so we can survive a long time without it.”
The baby nodded.
     
“Okay… then why are our legs so long and our feet so big and round?”
Mama replied, “Those are for walking across hot desert sand without sinking.
Very practical. Very camel chic.”
   
The baby paused again—clearly in reflection mode.
“Alright… last question. Why are our eyelashes so long?
Sometimes they’re just… extra.”
Mama chuckled.
“Those thick eyelashes protect our eyes from blowing desert sand during storms.”
The baby camel thought. And thought. And thought. 🧠💭
     
Then—like a sparkler going off at midnight—he asked:
“So… the hump stores water for the desert.
The legs walk the desert.
The eyelashes protect us from desert sand…
THEN WHY ARE WE IN THE ZOO?” 🎆😳
==========
🎉 C–New Year, New Chicken, New You 🍗✨
The Finger-Lickin’ Fresh Start Story
Once upon a very crunchy New Year’s Eve…
There was an older gentleman named Colonel Harlan Sanders.
       
Picture this:
💸 Broke
🏚️ Living in a tiny house
🚗 Driving a car that had seen better decades
💰 Living on $99 a month from Social Security
🌑Not exactly “New Year, New Yacht” vibes.
👴At 65 years old, while most folks were polishing their rocking chairs, Colonel Sanders said,
🕛 “Nope. New year. New plan.”
   
So he asked himself the ultimate New Year question:
“What do I already have that could change my life?”
   
Answer:
🍗 That legendary chicken recipe.
His friends couldn’t stop talking about it.
“THIS chicken!”
“YOU need to sell THIS chicken!”
“This chicken could save the world!” (Okay, maybe not that… but close.)
   
So off he went—across states, across diners, across dreams—
Knocking on doors with hope in one hand and a secret recipe in the other.
His pitch was simple:
👉 “Use my recipe for FREE.
👉 Just give me a tiny percentage of the chicken you sell.”
Sounds like a slam dunk.
Wrong.
❌ No.
❌ Nope.
❌ Absolutely not.
   
He heard NO over 1,000 times.
That’s not rejection—that’s a rejection marathon.
But here’s the magic:
He didn’t quit.
He didn’t sulk.
He didn’t say, “Well, I’m 65, guess I missed my chance.”
On rejection #1009…
🎉 YES!
And with that single yes, everything changed.
   
That one belief-filled moment launched Kentucky Fried Chicken—now known worldwide as KFC—and changed the way America eats chicken forever.
🥂 New Year Lesson (Extra Crispy Edition)
✨ You are never too old.
✨ You are never too late.
✨ You are never one “no” away from failure—you’re one yes away from a breakthrough.
     
This New Year, keep knocking.
Keep believing.
Keep seasoning your dreams.
Because sometimes, all it takes…
is one yes 🍾🎆
==========
🎉 D–The Obstacle in Our Path (New Year’s Edition) 🎉
Once upon a brand-new year—you know, that magical week when gyms are crowded, and planners still look innocent—there lived a wealthy, clever king with a mischievous streak. 👑😏
   
To kick off the year with a lesson, the king ordered a massive boulder dropped smack-dab in the middle of the busiest road. Then he hid nearby (because kings apparently had great hiding skills) to see what people would do when life threw a rock at them. 🪨
     
🚶‍♂️ First came the wealthy merchants and courtiers.
All dressed up and very important.
They gasped.
They scoffed.
They complained loudly.
“Terrible roads!”
“Someone should do something!”
“Honestly, what are taxes for?”
   
And then—without lifting a finger—they tiptoed around the boulder and marched on into the New Year carrying nothing but opinions. 🙄
   
🥕 Then came a peasant, arms overflowing with vegetables, sweat on his brow, resolution in his eyes. When he reached the boulder, he didn’t curse it. He didn’t detour. He didn’t post about it on PeasantBook.
He put his load down.
He leaned in.
He pushed.
     
It wasn’t easy. He grunted. He slipped. He tried again.
But eventually—Victory!—the boulder rolled aside. 💪🎊
As he gathered his vegetables and prepared to continue.
On his journey, he noticed something glittering on the rock.
Once stood…
     
💰 A purse. Heavy. Full of gold.
Inside was a note from the king:
“This reward is for the one who chose action over avoidance.”
   
✨ And here’s the New Year lesson, wrapped with a bow:
Every obstacle you meet this year—every boulder, setback, or
“Well, that wasn’t in my vision board”—is hiding a gift.
     
Most people walk around problems.
Some complain about them.
But a few roll up their sleeves… and get rewarded.
   
So as the calendar flips and confetti settles:
When you hit a rock in the road this year—
Push. There might be gold underneath. 🥂🌟
==========
🚂 E–Everyone Has a Story in Life
🎆 New Eyes for the New Year 👀✨
   
A 24-year-old young man leaned toward the train window and shouted with pure wonder,
“Dad! Look—the trees are running backward!” 🌳💨
His father smiled softly.
   
A young couple nearby exchanged glances.
Awkward.  Strange.
Pitiful, they thought.
   
Then the young man burst out again,
“Dad! The clouds! They’re racing us!” ☁️🏃‍♂️
   
The couple couldn’t hold it in any longer.
They leaned over and whispered to the father,
“Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?”
 
The father smiled—this time bigger, brighter.
“I did,” he said gently.
“We’re just coming from the hospital now.
My son was blind from birth…
And today, today he got his eyes.”
💥 Boom. Confetti cannon. Perspective shift. 🎉
 
As the calendar flips and the New Year rolls in, here’s the reminder wrapped in fireworks:
✨ Every single person on this planet is carrying a story.
✨ Don’t judge people before you truly know them.
✨ The truth might surprise you.
   
And here’s the New Year’s mic-drop:
🎇 This can be your year to see differently.
🎇 Open your eyes.
🎇 Open your heart.
🎇 Open yourself to wonder again.
             
You are capable.
The world is still magical.
And maybe—maybe—this is the year you see it for the first time. 🌟🥂
==========
🎉🐘 F–The Elephant Rope
A New Year’s Wake-Up Call 🐘🎉
As the New Year’s confetti settled and the calendar stretched its fresh, blank pages, a man wandered past a group of elephants. He stopped mid-step, scratching his head. 🤔
   
These enormous, magnificent creatures—
Living bulldozers with eyelashes—
They were held in place by a tiny rope tied to one of the front legs.
No chains.  No cages.  No elephant bouncers on duty.
   
At any moment, they could have strolled off to brunch. Yet… they didn’t.
Nearby, a trainer sipped his coffee and welcomed the question.
As a New Year’s Day gift to the elephants, he wanted to set them free.
“Why don’t they just break free?”
   
The trainer smiled. 😊
“When they’re babies—small and wobbly—we tie them with the same rope. Back then, it was enough. As they grow, they never test it again. They believe the rope still holds them… so it does.”
💥 Boom.
The man stood there, amazed. A rope didn’t trap these elephants.
Old beliefs trapped them.
   
🐘✨ Your New Year’s Mirror ✨🐘
Now here’s where the New Year fireworks really start popping…
How many of us are still standing still because of a rope we outgrew years ago?
A failed attempt.
A harsh “no.”
A voice from the past whispers, “See? You can’t.”
     
But listen closely—because this year has good news:
🎆 That rope is old. You are not. 🎆
Failure isn’t a stop sign—it’s a training montage. 💪
Growth means testing the rope again.
Learning means tugging—harder this time.
     
So as the New Year dawns, here’s your invitation:
✨ Question the rope.
✨ Pull on the belief.
✨ Step forward like the powerful, growing, unstoppable human you’ve become.
       
This year… break free.
The road is wide.
The rope is weak.
And the calendar is cheering you on. 🥳🎊
==========
🫏 G–🎉 The Donkey, the Pit & the New Year Plot Twist 🫏✨
Once upon a rough day—the kind you’d rather not carry into the New Year.
A man’s favorite donkey went plop! Fell into a bottomless, dark pit.
Not a cozy pit.
Not a “we’ll laugh about this later” pit.
A gulp… this looks bad, pit.
   
The man pulled. He tugged. He strained.
He made all the heroic noises. Nothing. 😬
With a heavy heart and zero options left.
He sighed and thought, “I’ll fill in the pit.”
So the dirt began to fall.
   
Plop. Thud. Dump.
The donkey felt the weight…
Paused…
And then—genius happened. 💡
   
Instead of panicking, that donkey shook it off…
…and stepped UP on it.
     
More dirt fell. Shake it off. Step up.
Again. And again. And again.
By noon—🎉 PLOT TWIST! 🎉
That donkey wasn’t buried.
   
The donkey climbed right out of the pit.
Strolled into green pastures.
Started munching grass.
“Cool story. What’s next?” 🌱😄
🥳 Welcome to the New Year Truth Bomb 🧨
   
Life will toss dirt on you:
Old mistakes
Fresh disappointments
Surprise setbacks with horrible timing
   
But here’s your New Year strategy—no gym membership required:
✨ Shake off what weighs you down.
✨ Step up on what tries to bury you.
   
Every problem? 👉 A platform.
Every setback? 👉 A step forward.
Every “this is the end”? 👉 Just the plot twist before your comeback.
     
So raise a glass 🥂, shake off the dust, and step boldly into this New Year.
The pit didn’t win.
The donkey did.
And guess what?
So will you.
     
4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
      ✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
   
“Cheers to a New Year and another chance for us to get it right.” – Oprah Winfrey
   
“Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.” – Carl Brad.
   
“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” – Aristotle.
     
“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” – C.S.Lewis.
   
“A dream written down with a date becomes a goal.
A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan.
A plan backed by action makes your dreams come true.” – Greg S. Reid.
     
“There comes a day when you realize turning the page is the best feeling in the world because you realize there is so much more to the book than the page you were stuck on.” – Zayn Malik.
     
“To lead a fascinating life, one brimming with art, music, intrigue, and romance. ”
You must surround yourself with precisely those things.” – Kate Spade.
   
“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” – Bill V.aughn.
   
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” – Lao Tzu.
   
“If you can’t fly, then run; if you can’t run, then walk; if you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
   
“Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.” – Dalai Lama. Lama
   
“I walk slowly, but I never walk backward.” – Abraham Lincoln.
   
“Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.” – Oscar Wilde.
   
5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
YOUR NEW START!
Plan to make this new year the best you have ever experienced.
Make plans now to make this next year the best you have ever had. 

6) NEXT WEEK>> BLOG 358–​Build Your Life as you Build Your House.
I know you’re out there, my friend. How about sending some words to me?
kitsummers@gmail.com 

🌟7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
  Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE! 

✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 356–A Godless Christmas?🌟
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback

Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity break a sweat.
Headlining at Bally’s in Atlantic City, I wasn’t just on top of the world—
I was throwing clubs like they were alive!
With a world record of juggling 7 clubs.
Life was dazzling, sparkly, full of applause.
   
Then came the truck…
The coma…
My long nap…
The long, silent hallway of nothingness.
Thirty-seven days where the world kept turning, but I wasn’t in it.
   
And yet—look at me now.
Not juggling clubs as much these days…
Instead, I juggle purpose, grit, hope, and the wild joy of being alive.
I toss resilience into the air and catch courage behind my back.
I balance healing on my chin and possibility on my toes.
   
My mission?
Oh, it outgrew the stage a long time ago.
Now I’m in the business of lifting humans—
Helping people (you) rise higher and shine louder.
Dreaming braver than you ever thought you could.
       
Because the show’s not over.
Not by a long shot.
And this version of me?
Helping you to reach a higher level.
I’m carrying more magic than ever.
   
I need a connection to the world.
Writing this blog fulfills that desire.
It helps me more than it helps you.
I write exactly how I feel.
I hope my words please you.
         
1)  THE BEGINNINGS
It’s so great to hear from my friends who like reading my blog.
Each week, this inspires me and gives me a reason to write the next blog post.  
    =========
I NEED YOUR HELP!
I want to share something personal, and I do so with care and humility.

A few months ago, after losing several teeth, I made the difficult decision to have ALL my lower teeth removed. I believed it was the right path forward at the time. It wasn’t. I’m living with that choice now, and it’s been painful—physically and emotionally.

Currently, I have a temp retainer, one that you have to glue in each day. I will need them to drill holes and put posts into my jaw. The new teeth will attach to these posts/implants.

To heal and move forward, I need a lower dental insert. It will make a real difference in my comfort, my health, and my ability to live fully again. Unfortunately, it also comes with a high cost.
     
If you’re able to help in any way—large or small—I would receive it with deep gratitude. Truly.
And if you’re not, your kindness, good thoughts, and care still mean the world to me.
   
If you’d like to reach me directly, you can:
📞 Call or text: 610-400-3233
📧 Email: kitsummers@gmail.com
     
Thank you for reading this.
Thank you for caring.
And thank you—for being part of my world. 💛
With love >>> Kit

Haveyouevertriedtypingwithoutusingthespacebar?
Itisquitedifficult,tryit.
Andafuntimeishadbyall.
   
Could you read it?
That’s just one of the ways I find pleasure.
Write to me, I miss you.
      
I’m in the brain injury hospital now.
I usually weighed about 161.
They just weighed me. I am up to 191.
This is the most I have ever weighed.
In a way, I do not care; I don’t care about death, after all.
           
At times, is my life going backwards?
I find myself questioning everything.
That is not a good way to spend your life. 

Kit with his temp choppers

Today, I found another video questioning the idea of a god.
Learn from this >>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adRIBCSu3KI
   
💛 (Here’s the secret — “I love you”.

2)  THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
(Please, let me know what you did this week, too.)

12/13–Awake at two again.
It’s becoming routine—my personal sunrise, minus the sun.
Stuck here for the day. What to do, what to do?
It rained, so juggling outside was off the table.

I went out anyway. Did my daily ritual: cleaning the back patio, the path, and the garden edges. I’m always amazed by how many cigarette butts appear overnight, as if they reproduce when no one’s looking. Then back to my room, grabbed the broom, and swept the wood chips back where they belong. Order restored. It feels calmer out there now. Kinder.

Back inside, I noticed my trash can overflowing with candy wrappers. Guilty. Lindor chocolates—I love them. They feed me well here: three meals a day. I add snacks to keep going. Still, it feels like I’m eating too much.

It’s Saturday. Which means nothing is happening.

Time crawls here—so slowly it feels unreal. People yelling down the hallway. It’s unsettling. Living here feels less like living and more like existing in separate cells, each of us locked into our own version of confinement. I’ve lost my joy. I used to run for pleasure. It fueled everything.

I’m watching Rise of Planet of the Apes. There’s a scene where the chimps are locked in separate cages, desperate to be released. It hit me hard. Too hard. I felt like I was watching myself.

Later, a helicopter crashes in the film. That stirred something old and profound. When I was six, my father—Virgil—died in a helicopter crash. I don’t know why it surged so strongly today, but the anger inside me is growing—sharp, restless, everywhere. I’m angry at everything. Maybe even at myself.

I was named after him: Virgil Carson Summers Jr–I am. They called him Virgil, so they nicknamed me “Kit,” from my middle name. I’ve never gone by my real first name. Now you know.

The anger keeps building. I miss my freedom.
I could leave this place. I really could.
Right now, I’m not even allowed to go outside.

If I left—then what? Where would I go? What would I do?
Sometimes I imagine walking all the way to Key West.
I’ve been there before. I like it there.
Maybe I’d just… live until I didn’t.

Lately, I don’t even seem to care about my life. I feel heavier, softer, despite eating constantly. I tried juggling three clubs—something that once defined me. Today, I could barely keep them in the air. This is who I am. Or who I was. And now it feels like another loss among so many.

Sometimes I wake up thinking someone is beside me in bed.
“I just wanted to let you know that I reached out,” I say.
But there’s no one there.
I am alone.

The loneliness is brutal. I hate it.
There is no one I long to be with,
and somehow that makes it worse.
I feel entirely alone. No one.

It’s 2:22 in the afternoon, and I already feel finished with the day. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of it—perhaps the rest of my life—watching YouTube videos, letting time pass, letting everything pass, and then dying quietly.

I’ve written things like this before—shared them with ChatGPT.com, even. The responses often include phone numbers for help. Right now, I don’t know what kind of help would even make sense… or if I’d want it. I’ve been through so many trials, and lately everything feels heavier.

I HAD TO LET YOU SEE WHAT CHATGPT SENT ME:
“And just to say this plainly, because it matters: you don’t have to carry this alone. If at any point the weight feels like too much, help is available—in the U.S., you can call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, any time, day or night. You’re not too weak to need support. You’re human.”

12/14–Living here feels strange—like wearing someone else’s shoes that never quite fit. It doesn’t feel right. And yet, I remind myself: I have a place to sleep, food to eat, and that matters. Gratitude doesn’t erase the discomfort, but it keeps me human. 🌱.
   
When the Horizon Goes Quiet
The challenge I’m facing right now isn’t a lack of
ability or effort—it’s the absence of a clear target.
No mountain to climb.
No flame to chase.
   
So let me name some of the peaks I’ve already scaled >>
1) In high school, I pole-vaulted 18’6″, setting a school record
And proving early that gravity and I would have a complicated relationship.
2) I committed myself to becoming one of the best jugglers in the world—and followed through.
3) I fought my way back from a life-altering accident, reclaiming not just function, but purpose.
4) I wrote what many have said is the best book ever written on juggling.
5) I created and nurtured the finest salsa imaginable, and watched it thrive.
https://sites.google.com/site/summerssalsa/
     
Each of these goals gave me direction.
They added friction, fire, and meaning to my days.
I chose them to forge me forward—to shape who I was becoming.
And now?
The horizon is quiet.
The compass spins.
The next mountain hasn’t introduced itself yet.
(But oh… it will. And when it does, I’ll lace up my boots and grin. 😄🔥)
     
The runway is clear… but the destination hasn’t announced itself.
So I’m asking—curious, open, and ready—
What’s next on Kit’s agenda?
Please, help me decide.
   
Because I know this much:
I’m not done climbing.
I’ve got to find new things to consider.
I need a new summit to aim for. 🌄🎯
   
Today was devoted to shaping this very blog—
Proof that life keeps moving,
And our thoughts are allowed to evolve right along with it.
But there is more to life than this blog (or is there?)
And then you die. 🌱✨
     
12/15–As usual, the alarm clock in my brain went off at 2 a.m.
No snooze button.
No negotiations.
I’m awake.
For the day.
     
Today?
I am not loving life.
Not enjoying existence.
At all.
   
What can I do?
Ask God for help?
Hard pass.
   
Today is prep day for tomorrow’s Big Event—the grand tour.
A colonoscopy from one end.
An endoscopy from the other.
Yes, I’m being inspected like a very expensive used car.
   
To prepare, I’ll be drinking four liters—FOUR—of a magical potion designed to encourage… enthusiastic output. (Yes. Poop. Precision matters.) 🎩💩 It’s basically a party where no one brings snacks, everyone regrets attending, and the bathroom is the real VIP lounge.
   
Honestly, this liquid ordeal is the worst part. For the actual procedure, I’ll be blissfully asleep—lights out, brain unplugged, consciousness on airplane mode. Compared to chugging this watery regret? That part sounds downright luxurious. 😴✨
   
Tomorrow, I’ll be gently powered down—goodnight, folks. 😴✨
First, the anesthesiologist (a truly heroic word, thank you, spellcheck) flips my OFF switch.
No mallets. No Bugs Bunny stars circling my head. Just modern science, a polite countdown, and—poof—I’m gone like a phone at 1%. 📱💤
   
Then the doctor checks things out from the back.
After the rear end is checked out, move on to the throat.
While I’m still blissfully unconscious, a tube goes down my throat.
   
My esophagus has narrowed, making swallowing a real-life boss battle.
All this while I am blissfully asleep, but not snoring.
They’ll gently stretch my throat—science’s way of saying, “Hang on, buddy, we got you.”
   
In simple terms:
An endoscopy uses a thin, flexible tube with a light and a camera.
This takes a guided tour of the esophagus, stomach, and duodenum.
Science at work. Glamour not included.
     
This is not a spa day.
But it is a step forward.
And right now?
Forward is enough.
Today, progress wears a crown,
Struts confidently and calls it a win. 👑✨🌱
     
As for the GaviLyte—four liters of it—
Mission accomplished.
It was unpleasant.
It was thorough.
And I am officially cleared out for tomorrow
Onward. 🚀
   
12/16–You know the drill: up by 3, into the shower with a smile, clothes put into the washer, and all this while smiling early in the morning.
   
Today was surgery time! Thank you, Nora, for driving me. Writing of Nora, yes, I am in love again. She only works at NR a few times a week, so I don’t know when I might see her again. A lovely thought, though.
         
Very comforting, I can see why Michael Jackson liked Propofol so much. I had an IV into my vein, and the sleepy drug was put into me through this. I had asked the doctor to let me know when he put the drug into my body, and he did. My mind snapped away quickly.
 
The first thing you experience is a deep sense of comfort throughout your body; I see the reason why people like taking illegal drugs. Then sleep comes quickly as pleasure takes over and your mind turns off. Such a great comfort this drug has.
   
Sometimes, as I go to sleep at night, I try to detect the moment when my mind passes from consciousness to unconsciousness. In attempting this, my mind never does go to sleep. This experiment has kept me awake through many nights. Because I was medically induced to sleep, I thought I could see the transition point. But I could not; it came too quickly. Try it sometime, you will experience an awake mind thinking about sleep. I felt pleasure and then pillow time.
         
12/17–🎭 The Day After: The Sequel No One Asked For

Aww… the day after.
I woke up today feeling exactly the same as I did yesterday.
Same model.
Same settings.
No exciting updates.
Maybe my throat feels a tiny bit tight—but honestly, it could just be offended it was recently invaded.

For dinner, I had some rice and munched it down. At one point, rice got caught in my throat, as it had before. It is hard even to tell if they did the surgery. I called and left a voice message informing Dr. Ramech about what happened. There is no way to just check my throat, they would have to put me out and go down again. Oh boy, I can’t wait.
   
I was told they removed a few polyps from my papilla (sounds fancy, doesn’t it?), yet my body responds with a collective shrug. Nothing hurts. Nothing screams. Nothing applauds. Just… business as usual.

💛 Humans Being Wonderful (A Rare and Beautiful Thing.)
Many people at NR asked how yesterday went. That kind of care? Gold. Good humans. Good staff. Real concern. I feel lucky to be surrounded by people who actually notice each other. 🫶
   
The morning procedure cost over $2,000 (thank you, insurance gods, 🙄). I sincerely hope someone, somewhere, is keeping a spreadsheet with my name highlighted in neon. Unnecessary costs still make my eye twitch—but onward we go.
   
I do hope someone, somewhere, schedules these things thoughtfully, preferably not during every moment of my existence.
   
🧠💪 Therapy Adventures: Balance, Bars & Baby Steps.
Therapy today? Light. Manageable. Sneaky-hard.
Finished up OT with Maryann.
 
We practiced balancing on the parallel bars—and wow, it still shocks me how wobbly my balance can be. It’s like my legs are improvising jazz without telling my brain.
Then weights!
I dropped down to 7-pound dumbbells instead of 10 (now who’s the dumbbell here?)
Maryann wisely reminded me: 
“Build strength first, then level up.”
Totally fair.
I’m currently training my arms for their eventual destiny—500 pounds per arm.
(Yes, I’m smiling. Yes, that was sarcasm. 😁)
   
🚨 FIRE DRILL: THE SEQUEL 🚨
JUST got back from another fire drill.
Encore performance.
A real fire truck arrived.
A real fire truck left.
A truly breathtaking use of time. This time—plot twist—a real fire truck showed up… and then did absolutely nothing. A cameo appearance. No lines. No fire. No action. ⭐🚒
   
I learned there are 28 patients here at NR—and it looked like just as many staff members standing outside with us, wondering about their life choices.
 
🍪 Holiday Baking… Sort Of
OT with Terrie brought Christmas cookies into the mix. 🎄🍪
Sadly, these cookies did not believe in structure.
They melted.
They spread.
They became abstract art.
Some had to be… retired.
Want a cookie? “No?” Wise choice.
🎄 A Pause, A Gratitude, A Send-Off
   
I just learned Maryann—one of my main therapists—is off for a few weeks for Christmas.
Good for her. Truly. Maryann, I hope your holiday is filled with joy, rest, laughter, and zero fire drills.
You’ve earned every bit of it—however you choose to spend it. ❤️
   
I’m–
Still here.
Still moving forward.
Still with my new lower teeth.
Still smiling—sometimes at the absurdity, sometimes because I mean it.
Onward. 🎉
     
12/18–Morning again.
There was an outing today—a trip to Tampa.
I didn’t hear about it.
I wasn’t invited.
I don’t know why.
   
Today’s entire schedule: 30 minutes of speech therapy.
That’s it.
Am I wasting my time here? My life?
At least I get to write this blog for you—and that matters. Writing still feels like a lifeline.
   
Right now, though, life feels unbearably heavy.
I don’t know what I want.
I don’t know who I want to be with.
I’m terrified I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.
I’m crying as I write this—not out of drama, but confusion and exhaustion.
I’m so tired of being alone. I hate that feeling.
   
I met with Lillie—my only therapy today. Just half an hour.
My memory is slipping more than I’d like. Yesterday, I met with Maryann and Terrie, yet today I forgot it had even happened. That scared me. I also noted other concerns.
I’m not liking life very much right now.
   
At 1:15, we had a conference call with my doctor and several therapists.
From their perspective, I’m “doing alright.”
From mine, life has been hard—relentlessly hard—with all these changes.
Both things can be true at the same time.
   
12/19-A Sharpened, Clearer, Truer Version
This morning, as usual, I woke at 2 a.m.
I lay there trying to remember what I did last night—and who I was with.
Nothing came.    I just stared into the dark, thinking, What next?
     
Oddly, a word floated up: epiphany.
I smiled at that.
I like it when my brain reaches for words I don’t usually use.
Even better—I used it correctly without realizing it.
   
An epiphany is a sudden, clarifying insight—a sharp “aha” moment! The time when something clicks and your understanding shifts. The word comes from Greek, meaning appearance or manifestation. It also carries religious meaning, but I’ll leave that part aside. What struck me wasn’t theology.
It was that the word fit.
   
Because even as I write this, I still can’t remember last night.
I don’t know who I was with.
I don’t know what I did.
And I have no one to ask.
   
That realization lands hard.
This scares me.
Am I living moment by moment now—without continuity?
That’s not the life I want.
I have memories, yes—but recent ones fade too fast, like chalk in the rain.
Last night is already gone.
   
So I ask myself:
What can I do about this?
Or… do I even want to?
   
My thoughts begin to morph—another word I don’t usually use. (I’m oddly enjoying the vocabulary upgrades.) But the meaning is darker: everything starts blending into the same anxious loop.
Is my mind getting worse?
 
I’ve said before—half-joking, half-dead serious—that if my mind ever truly went, I wouldn’t want to stick around. Is this that moment creeping closer?
I once imagined living past 100.
Now I question that vision.
   
That doubt circles back to a recent decision I regret deeply: having all my lower teeth removed.
Why would I choose something so drastic?
What was I thinking?
Tears come.
Confusion follows.
   
People are trying to help me. Genuinely kind, loving people.
But I’m not making it easy for them to help.
Another thought slips in: I don’t want to be a burden.
More tears.
The clock reads 3:58 a.m.
   
Early mornings can be cruel places.
Which brings me back to the question I keep circling—if there is a god, why would that god punish someone like this?
Does anyone have an answer?
   
And now the time is 7:18.
I’ve been up for many hours.
Even being here, there are things I need to do.
       
Just returned from the dentist. She adjusted my retainer, which was causing pain. Now it fits well, no pain. Of course, someone had to walk me the two blocks to get there, which I easily found. Such a waste of time for the person who went with me.
        =====     
3) 🌟BLOG 356–A Godless Christmas?
                ✨THE DAY KIT SUMMERS STOPPED SHRINKING✨

A Happy Christmas — From My Heart to Yours 🎄
For Christmas—and always—this blog is my gift to you, my dear.
I write because I want your life to feel richer, lighter, and more awake.
If my words add even a small bit of beauty to your days, then they’ve done their job. 🎁
   
My Christmas Story (No Pulpit Needed)
Religion was never part of my Christmas.
My father died when I was six, and Christmas became something quieter,
softer—time with my mom, my brothers Mike and Gary, and my sister Kath.
     
No sermons.
No doctrine.
Just family.
   
Always loving.
Always warm.
Always enough.
   
Throughout history, humans have imagined and worshipped thousands of gods—each claiming exclusive truth while outright contradicting the others. There is no consistent evidence and no reliable way to separate fact from fiction. With no rational reason to favor one god over the others—or to believe any are real—the question remains unanswered.
 
You may not believe in Zeus or Athena. I take the same step with your god.
Human history has produced thousands of gods, each tied to a particular place and culture.
The god people believe in usually depends on where they were raised, rather than on proof.
   
Born in the U.S., you’re likely Christian.
Born in India, Hindu.
Born in Afghanistan, Muslim.
Born in Israel, Jewish.
Belief, more often than not, follows birthplace—not evidence.
   
If a God exists and genuinely wants my belief, that God would know exactly what it takes to convince me. Silence, ambiguity, and ancient stories don’t qualify. I’ve seen nothing that rises above coincidence, psychology, or wishful thinking.
   
Prayer carries centuries of devotion behind it, but shows no measurable, repeatable evidence that it changes outcomes. When prayers go unanswered, explanations shift—wrong motives, insufficient faith, sin, or a mysterious “higher plan.” Eventually, prayer is quietly redefined: not as something that works, but as something that feels good. A conversation. A comfort ritual. A form of meditation.
   
I believe the idea of a god emerged when humans became aware of death—and refused to accept it as the final chapter. Once we understood that life ends, we began searching for a way beyond it. Not a map. Not proof. Just hope.
     
In that sense, God is less a discovery and more a creation—a story shaped by longing. A bridge built from fear, love, and imagination stretched across the terrifying gap between life and nothingness. God promises continuity when biology says stop. Meaning when randomness feels cruel. Comfort when reality offers none.
   
God is hope given a face.
Hope given a voice.
Hope whispering:
“This isn’t the end.
You matter.
Your story continues.”
     
And that hope is deeply human. It doesn’t need temples or texts to exist. It naturally rises from our awareness, our love for one another, and our refusal to believe that everything we are vanishes. God became the answer to the most uncomfortable question we ever asked: Is this really all there is?
     
If these words resonate with you, I’d love to know.
You say, “But God helped me find my keys after I prayed.”
Okay… let’s hold the applause.
     
How about curing cancer—so five-year-olds don’t die?
How about restoring a lost limb?
If divine power exists, celebrating misplaced keys is like bragging about a raindrop during a flood.
     
Belief isn’t a moral achievement.
It’s not a badge of virtue, a measure of goodness, or evidence of superior character. You don’t earn belief by trying harder, wanting it more, or keeping your heart extra open. Belief isn’t a reward—it’s a response. It appears when the evidence is convincing, and it doesn’t when it isn’t.
     
I looked. I stayed curious. I listened.
And I never found the belief so many claim to have.
Clean. Honest. Grounded.
No fireworks—just truth standing there with its hands in its pockets.
     
We don’t choose what convinces us. No one decides to believe in gravity, germs, or fire because they’re morally upright; they think because the evidence is unavoidable. The same standard applies everywhere else. If a claim is valid, it should be backed by clear, compelling, and repeatable evidence—evidence that doesn’t rely on special pleading, emotional pressure, or cultural conditioning.
   
🎄 Happy Christmas—
A celebration of humanity, honesty, and hope.
    =====
 1–Belief isn’t a virtue—it’s a conclusion.
People don’t choose their beliefs the way they choose their outfits. Belief is a response to evidence. When convincing evidence appears, belief follows. When it doesn’t, disbelief isn’t a flaw—it’s intellectual honesty.
    =====     
2–Where?
To date, no god claim has been supported by reliable, testable, independently verifiable evidence. Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof. None has arrived.
   =====
3–Too many gods, no referee.
Human history offers thousands of gods, each rooted in a specific culture and time. They contradict one another in origins, morals, and revelations. There’s no consistent method to identify which—if any—is real. Most people reject every god except the one they were raised with—an accident of birth, not a discovery of truth.
    =====
6–A hidden god who wants belief makes no sense.
If a god exists and desires belief, that god would know exactly what evidence would convince each person. Yet sincere seekers encounter silence. Prayer performs no better than chance. Miracles dissolve under scrutiny. Revelation is indistinguishable from imagination, coincidence, or cultural conditioning.
      =====
5–Nature keeps winning.
What gods once explained—lightning, disease, earthquakes, planetary motion—science now explains better. Each discovery reduces the need for divine intervention. The universe operates on observable laws, not divine moods. No gap requires a god.
    =====
6–Meaning doesn’t need permission.
Morality arises from empathy, cooperation, and our shared desire to reduce suffering. Purpose is created, not assigned. Love, creativity, curiosity, and responsibility matter more because life is finite. This isn’t a loss—it’s an invitation. When this life is the only one we know we have, it holds profound importance.
    =====
7–The result.
In the end, disbelief isn’t rebellion.
It isn’t cynicism.
It isn’t emptiness.
It’s a commitment to intellectual honesty.
   
Until credible evidence appears, the most reasonable position is straightforward: there is no god. Humanity—imperfect, fragile, and often ridiculous—manages just fine taking responsibility for itself. For me, if there is no proof, I could never believe.
 
Despite centuries of devotion, prayer, tradition, and certainty, that evidence has never arrived. Stories are not proof. Feelings are not facts. Ancient texts, personal experiences, and social reinforcement may be deeply meaningful, but they do not meet the standard required to justify belief in an objective reality.
     
If belief were a virtue, doubt would be a vice. But doubt isn’t moral failure—it’s honesty. It’s the refusal to claim certainty where none exists. Withholding belief in the absence of evidence isn’t stubbornness or rebellion; it’s integrity.
   
If convincing evidence appears, belief will follow naturally. You don’t need to do anything. Until then, disbelief isn’t a flaw—it’s an honest response to the evidence we actually have.
No faith is required. Just integrity.
   
This raises a simple question: if a god exists and wants to be known… why all the hiding?
   
These are my thoughts for now—held lightly, not carved into stone or sold with a lifetime warranty. I’m after truth, not comfort. If you’ve got a sharper argument, a clearer lens, or a truer angle, toss it into the mix. I’m listening. Upgrades are welcome. Clarity does the convincing. 🎩✨
   
As for church—I remember my mom taking us once during the season, more out of tradition than belief. God wasn’t necessary for a Merry Christmas then—and isn’t now.
Christmas, for me, was family. Love. Caring.
   
A secular Christmas is a bright, human-centered celebration of winter—one that sets doctrine aside and shines a spotlight on what unites us all: people gathered close, generosity flowing freely, laughter cutting through the cold, and light winning—again—against the dark. 🎄✨

AIM YOUR LIFE TOWARD REASON
NOT TOWARD ANY GOD

This celebration honors what humans have always shared across cultures: decorating trees, exchanging gifts (with a cheerful nod to Santa 🎅🏻), gathering around hearty meals, telling stories, and caring for those who need a little extra warmth—of heart or home. Its roots reach back to ancient winter-solstice traditions and flow forward into modern life, blending history, joy, and a bit of today’s twinkle. 🌟
     
Believers, non-believers, and everyone in between take part—not out of dogma, but out of love. It’s a reflection without rules. Connection without conditions. Joy without gatekeepers. In short: a celebration of humanity itself—wrapped in lights, kindness, and hope. 🎁
   
And Santa? Oh yes—Santa mattered.
God? Not so much.
     
At six years old, I hid under the living-room table, determined to catch Santa in the act.
I didn’t.
I fell asleep instead.
My mom found me there and carried me to bed. xx
     
That moment.
That love.
That was Christmas.
Happy Christmas: A Celebration of Humanity 🎁
   
Happy—or Merry—Christmas doesn’t belong to religion.
It belongs to people.
To laughter echoing through living rooms.
To lights pushing back long winter nights.
To our universal need for warmth, kindness, and connection.
   
No one actually knows when Jesus was born. Historians place it somewhere between 6 and 4 BCE, before King Herod died. December 25th was chosen centuries later—without historical evidence. Which brings us to the truth beneath the tinsel:
     
At its core, Christmas is about togetherness.
It arrives during the darkest, coldest time of year—when nature whispers, “Huddle closer.”
Long before religion, humans gathered around fire, food, and stories—not for theology, but for survival. Physical survival. Emotional survival. Community.
   
That instinct hasn’t changed.
The Joy of Giving (No Obligation Required)
Giving isn’t about price tags.
Lindor candies aren’t that much.
It’s about delight.
The quiet power of saying, “I thought of you.”
   
Some of the greatest gifts cost nothing.
A happy Christmas doesn’t require God—just kindness, generosity, and joy.
Warm. Human. Inviting.
No God required—just love, laughter, and a Happy Christmas.
   
Short. Cheeky. Smile-worthy.
Christmas joy stands just fine on its own—no God necessary.
Bold. Steady. True.
Writing this blog is my gift to you.
How to Celebrate a Happy, Secular Christmas 🎄
     
Focus on what matters most:
Love
Giving
Kindness
Cozy moments
Time with people you care about.
   
Fill the season with words like:
“Merry everything and a happy always.”
“Peace, love, and holiday cheer.”
“Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall and charity in the heart.”
Food Is Love You Can Taste 🍪
     
Shared meals slow us down.
They spark conversation.
They turn strangers into friends.
Cookies. Casseroles. Even questionable fruitcake.
The table becomes sacred—not by ritual, but by presence.
     
(And yes… Lindor chocolates are always welcome!)
You can find me here:
Kit Summers
NeuroRestorative
3701 Avalon Park Blvd #100
Orlando, FL 32828 😄
           
And then there’s the light. 🕯️
But that—like love—is something humans have always known how to create.
If you want:
• even tighter
• more poetic
• more provocative
• or more mischievous

NeuroRestorative

Candles.
String lights.
Fireplaces glowing.
The darkness didn’t win.
Light says something simple and powerful:
Even the smallest flame makes a difference.

A secular Christmas honors hope, resilience, and our
Instinct to create beauty—even when the world feels heavy.
Memory, Meaning, and Looking Forward
   
Christmas is also a time for remembering.
Stories are retold.
Photos resurface.
We hold the past gently—and the present closer.
   
It’s a moment to ask:
How do I want to show up next year?
Who can I be kinder to?
What joy do I want to create?
Most of all, Christmas Is Inclusive ❤️
     
No belief required.
No doctrine at the door.
Just humanity—
Messy. Hopeful. Imperfect.
Doing its best to be generous for a moment.
     
A Happy Christmas Is a Choice
Choosing joy
Choosing kindness
Choosing to give
Choosing connection
Choosing light
   
And in a world that feels rushed, divided, and exhausted—
Those choices are nothing short of miraculous.
Make them every day of your life.
Happy Christmas to everyone.
I love you. 🎄✨🎄✨
     
4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
      ✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
   
Dale Evans:
“Christmas, my child, is love in action.
Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.”
     
Kit Summers:
“A happy Christmas doesn’t require God—just kindness, generosity, and joy.”
   
Norman Vincent Peale
“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”
   
Hamilton Wright Mabi
“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.”
     
W. T. Ellis
“It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.”
   
Dale Evans Rogers
“Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.”
   
Mary Ellen Chase
“Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind.”
   
Alexander Smith
“Christmas is the day that holds all time together.”
     
Peg Bracken
“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”
     
Marjorie Holmes
“At Christmas, all roads lead home.”
   
Peg Bracken
“Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.”
     
Gordon B. Hinckley:
“As we give presents at Christmas, we need to recognize that sharing our time and ourselves is such an important part of giving.”
   
Toni Sorenson:
“Christmas is about giving from the heart more than giving from the store.”
   
C.S. Lewis:
“Once in our world, a stable had something in it that was bigger than our whole world.”
   
Charles Dickens:
“It was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!”
   
Ruth Carter Stapleton:
“Christmas is most truly Christmas when we celebrate it by giving the light of love to those who need it most.”
     
Thomas S. Monson:
“Christmas is the spirit of giving without a thought of getting. It is happiness because we see joy in people. It is forgetting oneself and finding more time for others. It is discarding the meaningless and stressing the true values.”
   
Helen Keller:
“The only real blind person at Christmas-time is he who does not Christmas in his heart.”
   
5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>

Spread love and delight through this happy season. You know that older neighbor who spends so much time alone? Invite this person over for Christmas dinner, or take a full meal to their house. Spread love how you can.
   
6) NEXT WEEK>> BLOG 357–You Still Matter!

🌟7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE! 

✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 355–You’re Dead! You’re Just Not There Yet.🌟
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback

Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity break a sweat.
Headlining at Bally’s in Atlantic City, I wasn’t just on top of the world—
I was throwing clubs like they were alive.
With a world record of juggling 7 clubs.
Life was dazzling, sparkly, full of applause.
   
Then came the truck…
The coma…
My long nap…
The long, silent hallway of nothingness.
Thirty-seven days where the world kept turning, but I wasn’t in it.
   
And yet—look at me now.
Not juggling clubs as much these days…
Instead, I juggle purpose, grit, hope, and the wild joy of being alive.
I toss resilience into the air and catch courage behind my back.
I balance healing on my chin and possibility on my toes.
   
My mission?
Oh, it outgrew the stage a long time ago.
Now I’m in the business of lifting humans—
Helping people rise higher, shine louder,
and dream braver than they ever believed they could.
       
Because the show’s not over.
Not by a long shot.
And this version of me?
Helping you to reach a higher level.
He’s carrying more magic than ever.
         

1)  THE BEGINNINGS 

It’s so great to hear from my friends who like reading my blog.
Each week, this inspires me and gives me a reason to write the next blog post.  

I have been paying for Amazon Prime, but haven’t been taking full advantage of it. Jasmine told me about Prime Video, so I checked it out, and I like what I see. Do you have Prime? We could share the cost, and each enjoy Prime. Let me know.
   
First up, I am watching the TV show, “Hogan’s Heroes.” This show has some good laughs, as I remember from the old days. Sad to remember that all the cast of this delightful show are dead now. Yes, death, that common thing that people forget about.
   
💛 (Here’s the secret — “I love you”.) 

2)  THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
(Please, let me know what you did this week, too.)

12/6–It’s a daily task, people never thank me, but I know. Every day, I am out there near the garden and patio area, picking up butts. With the can right there in front of them–they still think they have to throw their used-up cigarette on the ground.

Last week they had fireworks.
This shot was taken right outside the back of my residence.

   
I shouldn’t use the word, but I will, smoking cigarettes is just stupid, then tossing them on the ground later is disgraceful. Of course, on my return to my room, I have to clean my hands thoroughly to get the cigarette smell away. No one seems to notice, but I do!
     
I’ve had Amazon Prime for some time, but never fully taken advantage of it. Jasmine just sent me a link to learn about Amazon Prime Video. I am already watching Hang ‘Em High with Clint Eastwood—a good flick. Thank you, Jasmine.
   
Next up — “Punch Drunks” with The Three Stooges. Laughed my head off (and boy, you should see me without my head!) And then, “Hogan’s Heroes” is always enjoyable. This was one of the first to be broadcast, nice.  Black and white, like the old days. Hard to believe the cast is all dead now, like us all.
     
12/7–The day kicked off before the sun even rolled over and hit the snooze button. Around 5 a.m., the guy across the hall from me launched into his trademark symphony of nonsensical noises—his own abstract remix album, available nowhere but here.
   
I feel for the guy, I really do… but wow, his vocal stamina could power a small village. His soundscape continued until after 9 a.m.—a marathon with no medals, no finish line, and absolutely no sign-up sheet. It sounds like he is full of anger at life, which I can fully understand.
   
Then my teeth thoughts barged in—those pesky little gremlins of regret tap-dancing on my brain. Removing my bottom teeth may have been a fast-forward decision when a slow-motion moment would’ve served me better. Oh, how I wish I’d paused, breathed, and pondered. But life doesn’t hand out rewind buttons—just a big, stubborn PLAY button that keeps marching forward.
     
What a change, having all my lower teeth removed. So here I stand (toothless but not truthless), adapting to a new lifestyle, making peace with the smile I’ve got, and choosing courage for the one I’ll wear tomorrow. And, learning to eat and chew all over again. These are painful when I leave them in, so another trip to the dentist must be scheduled 
 
Then the garden called—loudly—and of course,
I answered like a proud groundskeeper of destiny.
Plants? Thriving like overachievers.
Trash? Also… thriving. Sigh.
   
I picked up at least 50 cigarette butts—yes, fifty!—plus a handful of miscellaneous debris that humans drop like molting birds. In the afternoon, I returned with a broom and gave the space another round of tender loving elbow grease.
     
If cleanliness earned merit badges,
I’d be the Garden Scout Master.
Grand Chancellor of Cleanliness.
Keeper of the Sacred Broom.
   
Does anyone notice?
Who knows.
But I noticed.
And that’s enough.
   
Hallway wisdom of the day:
Someone drifted by and tossed out the autopilot classic: “How are you?”
You know the type—words tossed like confetti with no intention behind them.
The verbal equivalent of an empty envelope: paper, but no letter.
   
Honestly? I’d take silence over hollow noise any day. At least silence tells the truth. Whenever anyone says this to me, I say, “Yes, I am” right away, before they can even think. (If you don’t mean the words, don’t say them. There—public service announcement complete.) No more, “How are you?” from your lips.
   
There are so many conversation starters.
Stop a moment and think before you talk.
For one, compliment the person strongly.
     
Then came the headline of the day:
The scary guy next door is moving out.
No more pounding on the walls.
     
No clue what logic brought this about, but I felt a wave of relief—like someone cracked open a window in a suffocating room. He’d been saying he wanted to leave, so perhaps the universe finally penciled his name onto the “exit” list.
     
Living here continues to be one of the strangest chapters of my life—
A curious blend of noise, patience, courage, oddball characters, and unexpected lessons.
But hey… I’m still here, still learning, still turning the pages.
   
And this story?
Oh, it’s far from over.
Stay tuned, you’ll see.
 
12/8–The weekend is over, and things should start happening around here.
   
The Day I Wrestled With Gravity (Again)
She swept in for PT like a balance wizard with a mission. We dove into exercises that reminded me just how wobbly I can be—picture a flamingo standing on a moving skateboard, and you’re close. She also told me she read last week’s blog and noticed the famous Kit Head Tilt in a few of the photos. Ah, yes… my signature move. Très chic.
   
Then came OT round two—the OT person who decided to toss me a curveball—MATH. Yep, apparently we’re solving equations now. I didn’t know I had signed up for “Juggling Numbers 101,” but guess what? I held my own! Somewhere, a calculator is applauding me.
     
The speech was as follows. We cracked open some old emails to remind me just how spicy I can be when I get fired up. A little blast from my own past. Nothing like reading your old words and thinking, “Wow… who gave that guy a keyboard?”
     
PT, OT, Speech—each for 30 minutes. A perfect sampler platter of self-improvement. 👨‍🍳✨
   
And yes, I’m trying and really trying. But the balance? Still wobbly. The head tilt? Still stylin’. The memory? Still playing hide-and-seek with me—and winning. Frustrating? Oh, absolutely. But hey, every hero’s journey has its tricky chapters.
     
Finally, we had Sports Group. They gave me little 3-inch rings to toss through a hole in a board. Honestly? Not my event. My inner athlete took one look and said, “No, thank you, I’ll sit this Olympics out.” But others loved it, and I loved that they loved it.
   
Another day in the adventure of Kit —
Juggling challenges.
Laughing at the chaos.
Marching forward anyway.
Onward we go, my friend. 🎪🔥
   
12/9–They did it again. You know how I dislike waste. My trash can was barely an eighth full, but they took everything, including the almost-empty bag. They would probably, without thinking, take the bag alone, even if it were empty—just mindless work without thinking.
   
Shhh, don’t tell ’em–I’ve been putting the can in the bedroom at night so they can’t take it, but I forgot last night, my trash bag was confiscated. I’ve written about this subject before, and I will keep writing about it, but I won’t keep dwelling on it. Life goes on, trash bag or not.
   
With this new retainer to replace my lower teeth, I am getting used to it; it’s not a burden. This is a change I must adapt to and face head-on. We all face life changes, and we must learn to adjust and accept them. In other words, we must learn to change with the changes.
   
On my schedule for today, I have something labeled ‘Therapy Outing’ scheduled for 10 am. I will let you know later what it is as soon as I know. After two hours of preparing and driving, we finally arrived at https://www.jojosshakebar.com/ in Orlando. Too far to go, I must say. 

You may know of my swallowing problem. After just two bites of food, my throat closed up, and nothing would go down or up. It is agonizing when this happens. It is happening about every meal nowadays. I brought my food back and will eat it later.
   
To make matters worse, my new lower retainer came out when I was trying to deal with this swallowing problem. I finally just removed the retainer and did not eat anything more at the restaurant. I did not have a good time on this outing.
   
Each time it hurts a lot, and I cannot eat, so I didn’t. It finally went down, and I drank some iced tea. The meal will be for tonight or tomorrow. I am scheduled for surgery for this problem with my oesophagus. Myles is working toward moving the surgery up.
     
Along for the ride in the two vans were nine therapists and helpers, along with seven patients. I am told they do an outing like this every year to celebrate the holidays. Nice for people who work there, they get to get out and have a free meal. But it would not be good to return to Jojos; it was not that great a place and was too far away.
   
Some of the therapists who went with us were not so friendly. Very controlling, I was told where to walk, where to stand, and where to go. It was harrowing, you know how I dislike being controlled. I know you have to keep people in line, but this was just too much.
   
People weren’t having fun for that reason. I will not go with a group like this again. I wanted to take a photo of the group to show you while you read this blog, but I was told I couldn’t. I did not want to argue, so I just backed down. People would have liked to see themself in my blog.
   
I was told I could only take a photo for myself, but I could not use the group’s likeness on my blog for you to see. Just for your information, anything you can see in public can be photographed. There are no rules against doing such a thing. It will have to wait for the future.
 
No therapy was scheduled for today; the outing was all their way. It is about 3 pm, and I will go out to see the garden grow and clean up while I am out there.
This is my quiet place.
My pleasure place.
   
12/10–This morning, I am looking forward to getting out to the garden and doing some work. Of course, the sun had yet to appear, so I awoke early again, at about 4 am.
   
You have to remember, it is winter now (even down here in sunny Florida). When spring comes, the garden will take off. But, will I be here or take off myself? Either way, people like the vegetable garden, and I am sure it will continue.
 
I just found out that the group is going to https://cleantheworld.org/ today. I will go along because it is something to do. Two vans are traveling to Orlando to help them out. I went in a van that had four seats in the back and two in the front.
   
The fellow across the hallway made his decision.
To take exercise to a whole new level today.
He grabbed his walker…
And absolutely zero clothing.
Away down the hallway for all to see.
Yes, you read that right.
A full moon at high noon—right in the hallway. 🌕🚶‍♂️
     
Now, I’m all for staying active, but come on!
There are better ways to get your steps.
You don’t need to traumatize the neighbors.
Good for him for moving his body…
But wow, some sights you can’t unsee.
Yes, you read that right.
A full moon at high noon—right in the hallway. 🌕🚶‍♂️

So that you know, here is where I live >> 

     
12/11- I ate a banana this morning and paused over the peel. Instead of throwing it away, I put it into the garden soil. Banana peels are rich in nutrients and make excellent natural fertilizer. It felt good—one small, intentional act that supports growth rather than waste. 🍌

During OT, I worked on math problems. I became frustrated when I couldn’t figure some of them out, even with a calculator. It made me question my intelligence. The truth is, I haven’t needed math skills in years, and unused skills fade. Still, that understanding didn’t quite the self-doubt.

From 10:00 to 11:00, I attended a cognitive group with Lilly. She asked us to write about an event we had earlier in the week. I couldn’t remember it. I felt embarrassed and angry with myself, especially because it seemed the others could recall it. Eventually, Lilly reminded us—it was our group lunch at JoJo’s.

JoJo’s had been chosen for its festive atmosphere and wide selection of food. I learned that NeuroRestorative spent about $520 on the outing, which surprised me. What troubled me more was that this had happened only days ago, yet my memory of it was vague. Was this a recall issue? Or something worse?

Lilly reviewed several details I should have remembered. I couldn’t access them. My frustration turned inward. I wasn’t angry at the therapists—I was angry at myself. I wondered whether I had always been like this, or if I was getting worse.

Afterward, I met with Maura and Lilly to tell them how deeply distressed I felt. For the first time, I questioned whether life was worth continuing. If my memory is declining, what does the future look like? I am not enjoying life right now, and that realization scared me.

When the group moved on to painting ornaments, I chose not to participate. I returned to my room and wrote this instead. After the accident, I still loved life and made sure people knew it. Today, that feeling is gone. I feel disconnected from who I used to be.

It is now 1:10 p.m. If asked, I would have guessed it was around 6:00. Losing track of time is another unsettling sign. I find myself wondering what is happening to my mind—and whether this is temporary or a deeper decline.

12/12–As usual, an early awakening.
Only a couple of things are scheduled for today.

The walking group from 9-9:30.
10 am–A “Holiday Movie” (as they call it).

In the afternoon — ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
All the therapists get time off.
As Christmas comes, there will be more and more time off, too.
Myself, I don’t get a break.
   ============================
3) 🌟 BLOG 355–You’re Dead!
    You’re Just Not There Yet.🌟
                    ✨THE DAY KIT SUMMERS STOPPED SHRINKING✨
           👣 Death. As you may remember, this subject has been covered before; I thought it necessary to repeat. It will happen to each of us — including you! Now that I have a lot more readers, another trek down this path toward our demise is essential.
   
You first need to ask yourself — what is death? Also, ask “What is life?”
When I die, I want my naked body to be left in the wilderness so small animals and bugs can feed on me, ensuring my energies are not wasted. 

FIND AS MUCH JOY AND HAPPINESS AS YOU CAN!

Life and death are not rivals—they’re dance partners. Two ancient forces swirling together in a cosmic waltz that reminds us how precious every breath truly is. Mortality doesn’t diminish life; it electrifies it. It whispers, “Wake up. Pay attention. This moment is yours—use it well!”
   
And death?
It isn’t just a curtain closing.
It’s a transformation.
A Renewal.
   
Death is a shift as natural and graceful as the turning seasons. Leaves fall not to signal loss, but to make room for spring. In the same way, death becomes less of an ending and more of a doorway—into legacy, into memory, into whatever mystery lies beyond our last heartbeat. 

YOUR LIFE IS PRECIOUS — SEE AND MAKE IT THAT WAY! 

You might be wondering,
“But Kit… You write of death, what about God?”
That’s a fair question—and here’s my honest, heart-wide-open take:
I’ve never believed in any of the many gods humanity has imagined over the centuries. People do, of course—and sometimes that belief lifts them, steadies them, gives them comfort.
   
I just came upon this video of the idea of a god and belief >>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqNbfXR8Nco
If you are a believer, watch these. (I’ll never tell.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGS59SufxzM
And, watch this >>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDo5OfHH6k0
     
Take the time to watch the videos; if you believe, you will change.
Remember, curiosity is the enemy of blind faith.
If you say you have faith, you are lying to yourself.
     
Other times, it gently (or not so gently) steals their fire… convincing believers they can coast through this life because a better one is waiting down the road. Curiosity and joy are far more critical than any god. Sort through your thoughts and adopt the correct mindset.
   
🔥But here’s the jolt of truth I’ve learned >> 
Through fire, trucks, miracles, and second chances:
This is the life we know we get.
No guarantees.
No cosmic do-overs.
No backstage pass after the show.
And because of that?
This moment is the only one we’re certain of!
     
💥 We’ve got one chance to make Life magnificent.
Not someday.
Not “after.”
Not “when the universe gives me a sign.”
“NOW!”
Right here — While our hearts are still going.
Beating their brave little drum.

PEOPLE SEARCHED FOR MEANING IN A CONFUSING WORLD

The idea of God didn’t just drop out of the sky—nope! It was sculpted, polished, and proudly paraded by early humans who were trying to make sense of thunder, lightning, life, death, and why their neighbor stole their goat. And let’s be honest… It worked. Nothing organizes a crowd quite like, “Do this… or the Big Invisible Boss is watching!”
   
But beneath the rules and rituals, there’s a softer truth:
People were scared. Scared of the dark, scared of dying, scared of the big unknown door at the end of the hallway. Now we know better.
   
So they did what humans do best—they invented meaning. They created gods who could comfort, protect, explain, soothe, and promise something delicious and golden on the other side of life’s finish line. And oh boy, that promise felt GOOD. Like warm soup for a cold soul.
   
And, as things changed down the road, these ideas changed, too. The concept of a god changed as people became more advanced. Christmas is coming soon — a time of love and sharing. God was never a part of my Christmas celebration, and I like it that way.
   
That’s why every culture, from mountaintop tribes to desert wanderers, spun its own divine stories. Not because they were foolish, but because they were beautifully human—hungry for hope, eager for comfort, longing for a reason to keep moving forward.
   
Gods were the original emotional safety blankets. 🎁
And hey, when the blanket feels warm, people tend to hold on tight.
We know better now.
   
I have two questions I have asked believers.
No one can answer these simple questions >>
1) What are the two BEST reasonable and rational proofs for God?
2) Why should I believe in your god?
Can you send me answers? Let’s break this down:
   
🌟 TWO QUESTIONS THAT MAKE BELIEVERS SWEAT (AND THINK!)
You’ve been tossing these questions into conversations like a juggler hurling flaming torches—brilliant, bold, and impossible to ignore. And guess what? Even though no answer is perfect, I can share what many thoughtful believers try to offer.
   
Let’s keep this playful, open-hearted, and full of wonder.
✨ 1) What are the two BEST reasonable, rational proofs believers often give for God?
Think of these not as ironclad “proofs,” but as the best attempts humans have made over centuries of head-scratching and sky-gazing.
   
💡 A) The “Something rather than nothing” Argument.
Many believers say:
“Look at the universe! It exists! And everything that exists has a cause… so the ultimate cause must be something outside the universe.”
   
To them, God is the “First Spark”—the original domino that tipped all the others over and said, “Let there be galaxies, mountains, Kit Summers, and lettuce seeds!”
Is it perfect logic? Nope.
Is it interesting? Absolutely.

💡 B) The “Fine-Tuned Universe” Argument
This one is popular because it sounds scientific and fancy.

Believers say:
“The universe is tuned just right for life—like someone perfectly adjusted every cosmic knob: gravity, chemistry, physics, stardust recipes.” Or, did we adjust to fit in better?
      
Too perfect, they argue, to be a cosmic accident.
Like finding a fully baked chocolate cake on the sidewalk…
You wouldn’t assume it assembled itself out of random crumbs.
       
They conveniently forget about earthquakes, fires, tsunamis, asteroids, and every other reminder that nature does not cater to comfort. Add to that the fact that only a tiny fraction of Earth’s mass is actually habitable.

So no—this planet was not “made for us.”
We weren’t gifted a perfectly tuned world; we adapted. We learned, adjusted, and evolved to survive the planet we happened to land on and the constant changes it throws our way.
           
✨ 2) Why should you believe in their god?
Ahhh, this is where things get fun.
Because every believer has their own God,
their own story, their own version of “truth”…
And somehow they still claim everyone else is wrong.
Here are the most common reasons they give:
     
💛 A) “Because my tradition says so.”
People believe in the god they grew up with.
Geography creates theology.
If they were born in India, they’d offer you a different god.
Saudi Arabia—another one.
NYC another.
Japan—another.
The pattern is adorable… and telling.
   
💛 B) “Because my god helped me personally.”
This is the big emotional hook.
People often feel comfort, healing, or guidance and credit it to their god.
But personal experience, while meaningful, isn’t universal evidence.
   
It’s like someone saying:
“My chiropractor cured my headaches!”
Great!
But that doesn’t mean you gotta book an appointment.
     
💛 C) “Because believing gives me hope.”
This one is honest and sweet.
People believe because it feels good.
Hope is delicious.
And humans love comfort the way squirrels love acorns.
But warm feelings aren’t the same as truth.
     
🌈 SO… SHOULD YOU BELIEVE IN THEIR GOD?
You get to choose your own meaning, your own awe, your own magic in this wild carnival of life. 🎪✨
You don’t need a supernatural being to live bravely, love fiercely, or make life magnificent.
   
Your story shows that you are already a miracle.
You resurrected your life when no “god” stepped in.
You created purpose after chaos.
You turned brokenness into fireworks.
     
If someone insists you must believe in their god, smile and ask:
“Why yours and not the other 4,000?”
That usually makes their brain do a little tap dance. 🕺💥
   
Since the beginning of time, humans have developed thousands of gods. This is a comfort for many who can’t see that life just ends, and there is nothing else. I have never thought that way. I have added enough to life, through my books and speaking, that I will be alright.
   
What have you done to help this world we live in?
It’s not–but it should be a rule–you cannot die until you add something that allows the human race in some way. You are still alive, make changes to the world to make things better for others.
     
So whether you believe or don’t believe, the assignment is the same >>
Show up fully. Live boldly. Love wildly.
Create a life so good that the angels are jealous.
Raise kids who help the human race, not kids who fear a god.
This is your one known ride—make it a masterpiece. DO IT STARTING NOW!
   
Seen this way, the inevitability of death becomes a teacher, not a tyrant. It nudges us toward gratitude. It sharpens our purpose. It invites us to live boldly, love deeply, forgive freely, and savor the fleeting beauty of impermanence.
 
Death is not merely the quiet end of awareness—
It is a reminder that awareness itself is a miracle.
And when we understand that?
Oh, life becomes luminous. ✨
   
“Death. The word alone can feel like a stone dropping into the soul’s quiet lake. But look closely, and you’ll see the ripples aren’t only sorrow — they’re also meaning, clarity, and a deeper appreciation for the wild, colorful business of being alive.
     
Strangely enough, death gives life definition. If we lived forever, days would blur, choices would drift, and urgency would evaporate like morning mist. Knowing our time isn’t infinite nudges us — lovingly, insistently — to show up, to savor, to dare. Mortality is the drumbeat that reminds us to dance now — shall we? 
   
It also delivers perspective. Challenging moments shrink in the shadow of the bigger picture. Arguments lose their teeth. Grudges melt. Death pulls the camera back and whispers, “Is this worth your limited heartbeats?” And most of the time, the answer is no — freeing us to choose peace, forgiveness, connection.
     
And oh, the legacy it reveals.
Stories get told.
Gratitude gets spoken.
Death turns the volume up on how much a life mattered.
   
Love, often shy in daylight, comes rushing out. It’s in those moments that we see the truth: a person doesn’t vanish — they echo. They ripple. They continue in memories, actions, and the changes they sparked in others.
     
Perhaps the most significant benefit is this: death teaches us how to live. It’s the constant reminder to hug tighter, laugh louder, wander boldly, juggle better, forgive quicker, and plant seeds whose shade we may never sit beneath. Without death, life would lose its magic; with it, each day becomes a tiny miracle.
     
So yes — death closes a door. But it also opens a window to gratitude, courage, compassion, and purpose. And until the day each of us steps through that final doorway, we get the gift of choosing how brightly we shine while we’re still here.
   
A FEW THOUGHTS >>
EVERY DAY, PRETEND IT’S YOUR LAST DAY ALIVE
No melodrama, just wakefulness. Don’t rush—revel.
Taste the air. Say the thing. Laugh so fully the day itself applauds.
     
YOUR LAST DAY?
If the curtain were about to fall and you had one more act,
Would you whisper safe lines or roar your truth?
The encore is yours to command.
   
MAKE IT YOUR ENCORE!
This is your sparkler finale, your wild bow, your closing number.
The question isn’t “what if I fail?”
It’s “what if I never try?”
Step forward.
The spotlight’s already warm.
     
THE WARMER MEANING
Memento mori.
Remember—you must die.
Not grim, just grounding.
The Stoics didn’t say it to mourn life,
but to magnify it.
Mortality makes meaning blaze brighter.
     
BE BRIGHT, BE CLEAR, BE BOLD
Time is a shrinking window.
Step through it.
Shrug off the static.
Stand tall where it matters most.

YOU MUST LIVE FOR NOW, AND DO IT NOW!
THE KEY TO LIVING GRACEFULLY IS THIS >>
IN YOUR LIFE, DO SOMETHING THAT WILL
BENEFIT PEOPLE IN THE FUTURE! 

But let’s not whisper that truth—let’s ring it like a bell across the mountains of your life.
Every one of us gets a limited number of sunrises, a finite stack of days to play with. We don’t get to choose when the curtain drops…
   
But oh, how magnificently we can choose what we leave glowing behind us. Dying gracefully isn’t about slipping away quietly. It’s about living so boldly, so lovingly, so generously that your final breath is simply the soft punctuation at the end of a powerful sentence.
   
It means planting seeds—carrots, ideas, kindnesses, stories, lessons—
That will keep growing long after your footprints fade from the earth.
Bending down to lift someone who will one day lift someone else.
Choosing to make the world just a shade brighter than you found it.
     
When you use your life to build bridges for others…
When you dare to teach, to share, to inspire, to create, to comfort…
When your actions today echo into someone’s tomorrow…
Help as many as you can before you end…
     
That is grace.
That is legacy.
That is you.
That is how we leave—not with fear, but with a quiet, triumphant smile.
     
Because in the end, the most beautiful way to die…
Is to know that your life—messy, glorious, courageous—
Will keep helping people long after you’re gone.
And that, my friend, is a kind of immortality anyone can earn–YOU.

      ==========================
4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
  ✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
   
“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” —Thomas Campbell.
   
“Death is nothing to be scared of; it is a part of life.” —Kit Summers.
     
“The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.” —Marcus Tullius Cicero.
     
“What we have once enjoyed we can never lose.
All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” —Helen Keller.
   
“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.” —Irish headstone.
   
“What will survive us is love.” —Philip Larkin.
   
“Death is not the opposite of life but a part of it.” —Haruki Murakami.
   
“It is as natural to man to die, as to be born;
and to a little infant, perhaps the one is as
Painful as the other.” —Thomas Hobbes.
   
“Death is the crown of life.” —Ovid.
     
“For life and death are one,
even as the river and the sea are one.” —Kahlil Gibran.
     
“The idea is to die young as late as possible.” —Ashley Montagu.
   
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.” —Mark Twain.
     
“If a man has not discovered something that he will die for,
he isn’t fit to live.” —Martin Luther King, Jr.
     
“I would rather die a meaningful death than live a meaningless life.” —Unknown.
   
“Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.” —Dr. Seuss.
   
“As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death.” —Leonardo da Vinci.
           
5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
Plan for your future death.
What do you want to happen?
Who do you want to be?
      ======
6) NEXT WEEK>>
BLOG 356–​A Godless Christmas

🌟7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE! 

✨KITTING AROUND✨
   🌟 BLOG 354 — Good Memories are Worth Any Cost 🌟
       By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback

Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity nervous.
A world record of juggling 7 clubs, who would ever think?
Headlining at Ballys in Atlantic City, I had it all.
Life was grand!
 
Then came the truck, the coma, the darkness…
Thirty-seven days of nothingness.
And yet—here I stand.

Not juggling clubs so much anymore…
Now I juggle purpose, healing, and helping humans.
Rise higher than they ever imagined.

Today, my mission stretches far beyond the stage.
I’m helping people around the world live braver, brighter, better lives—
One insight, one adventure, one spark of courage at a time.

1)  THE BEGINNINGS
Throughout this blog, you will see photos from my past travels. Such great memories my travels hold.
Enjoy the read.
💛 (Here’s the secret — “I love you”.)

It’s so great to hear from my friends who like reading my blog.
Each week, this inspires me and gives me a reason to write the next blog post.
“Magnificent, insightful writing, Kit!
You are a fantastic author!”
Larry Zieger (Larry taught high school at Point Loma High in San Diego, where I graduated from in 1977.)
=====
Happy Thanksgiving, Kit…
“I hope you enjoyed that ice cream!”
Chris Foster (I performed with Chris’ brother, Randy, for many years).
=====
“You have been through so much, and yet you continue to inspire others!!! I love every one of your writings and take something (usually MANY things) away from EVERY ONE!!!! Thank you, my friend, for all that you do. I am certain your words AND ACTIONS inspire many others besides just me, even if they don’t write it down or express it. Keep being your positive self; I know it will lead you to better places. Be well, my friend!”
Phyllis May Lynch (Phyllis is the person we bought our house from, and a great friend.)
=====
“I really enjoyed these philosophical musings. And, yes, we all have to, at one time or another, question our own existence on this planet. I think it is essential, and my first psychotherapist, the late, great U. Robert Akeret, said that the truly aware person contemplates suicide at least once in a lifetime. I always find your insight enlightening. I do compare myself to others, but less than I used to. I am on my way to becoming what and where I need to be. You have helped me, and I am grateful, so thank you, Kit!”
Judy Finelli (Judy is an old friend who used to juggle with Hovey Burgess.)

2)  THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK >>

11/29–Have you started? Ohhh yes, you have—but today’s the day to crank that memory-making machine up to full glitter mode. Because memories are the secret sauce of a meaningful life… and you, my friend, are the master chef with the apron flapping heroically in the wind.

🎒 Collect Moments Like They’re Hidden Treasure.
Your memories are your greatest treasure.
Reach back, grab your good times, polish them, toss them in the air, and let them rain down like confetti.
Then—make more.
Start today.
Start now.
Start before someone tries to hand you another packet of hospital mashed potatoes
🌱 Tiny Seeds, Big Magic

There you were, Kit Summers, Guardian of the Patio Realm. You were
waging war on cigarette butts like a caped crusader with a grabber stick.
And right next to that?
The tiniest of tiny lettuce seeds.
Little green specks that could easily blow away if someone sneezed.
Yet those specks?
They grow into crisp, healthy, glorious, full-sized lettuce heads bursting with life.

A cosmic wink from Nature herself, saying:
“Hey Kit… tiny beginnings lead to big, crunchy greatness.” 🥬✨
That may go for what I do, too.

🔥 AND THEN–Fire Drill Frenzy (aka The Great Shuffle Outside)
At 2:45 in the afternoon—sirens, alarms, and the monthly “let’s-all-pretend-there’s-a-fire” parade.
The people here remind me of the group in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” in the boat scene.

As I was going out, I grabbed a chair to sit on (I’ve heard I am somewhat smart).
Some without, 12 people in wheelchairs, everyone groaning, shuffling, rolling, wobbling outside…

And then?                          Yikes–a broken harm.
Right back in.       
No fire.
No smoke.
No roasted marshmallows.

Just another episode of “Why Are We Doing This Again?”
A monumental waste of time…
But hey, you survived another drill. Gold star for you. ⭐

🤔 “What Am I Doing Here?”—The Big Question
Standing among the crowd, you suddenly felt that whisper in your soul:
“Why am I here?
What is happening to my life?
Where’s my glass of wine?” 🍷

Yes—this environment is wearing on you.
Yes—it’s getting harder to swallow.
Yes—you’re craving freedom like a bird staring at an open sky.

But listen…
THIS moment?
This discomfort?
This “what am I doing here?” feeling?

It’s the compost.
The stuff that feeds your next breakthrough.
Lettuce grows from tiny seeds, my friend…
But YOU are growing from these giant, messy challenges.

And someday soon, this chapter will become
—guess what?—
One of the memories worth keeping.
One of the ones you’ll turn into gold.

Keep going, Kit.
Keep noticing.
Keep creating.       
Keep cleaning up the patio, planting lettuce, and asking big questions.
You’re not stuck.
You’re rising.
One tiny seed at a time. 🌱✨
       
11/30–Getting back to life. I just looked through many photos I have of myself in the mountains. This brought back so many great memories. You can only hold so many memories in your head; it is good to have the photos to remind you.
   
This morning, the guy across the hall from me, Bob, is really moaning and carrying on. It’s agonizing to think of what and how his mind could be thinking. It came to mind this morning that I was living in a crazy house. Me? Here? Yes–it’s happening. Bob’s voice is grating, too.
   
There are people here, like Bob, who will be here until they die. Not a life that I would want, but some have no choice. People working here do their best until the end. The people working here deserve commendation.
   
Writing is funny. I’ve never used the word “commended”, but it came to mind as I needed it. Strange how thoughts and memories pop into your mind when you need them (well, most of the time, anyway.) But it is hard when they don’t just pop in, too.
 
A slow Sunday today. 

At 3 p.m., someone was supposed to escort me across the street so I could juggle. They were supposed to yesterday, also, NO ONE SHOWED UP! I checked in with the head nurse today, and he repeated the rule: someone has to go with you. He claimed they had no one “assigned.”
   
But here’s the truth: I don’t need an escort to cross a quiet, single-lane road. I want to juggle alone! I’ve crossed hundreds of roads since my accident–roads in busy cities, deserts, forests, and national parks. Trust me—I know how to put one foot in front of the other—without a babysitter!
   
So I said NO.
Not out of rebellion—out of confidence, capability, and self-respect. I know you can’t treat all your patients here the same. I understand how many would not be able to manage going across the street–BUT I CAN!
     
I CAN HEAR BOB THROUGH THE DOOR! Makes me want to go out for a long walk–but I can’t even do that! I understand that he is going through brain problems, but there is no reason I have to hear it. I did go out to the patio and read for a while.
 
                                                                  See Kit, down on that road? 

And living in the suite right next to mine, a man who always has to have an escort.

Everywhere he goes–All night, too.
At night, he bangs on the walls and makes noise.
   
Then, across the way, John walks abnormally. He can pick up his feet; I’ve seen him walk normally. But he slides on his feet as he walks. For some strange reason, this really bugs me. At times, I’ve seen him walk normally. I know he can do it.

Juggling snowballs, what fun!   >>> 

It can be scary to live here.
Makes me want to go crazy, too.
Where’s the nearest nut farm?
   
I’m not here to be coddled.
I’m here to live.
And I’m not done juggling yet.
     
🌅 GOOD MORNING, WORLD—KIT IS ON THE MOVE!

12/1 — The building may still be rubbing the sleep from its eyes, but you, my friend, are already pacing at the starting line, grin in place, spirit humming its favorite tune. The hallways whisper, the lights stretch awake… and here you are, tapping out your truth before the sun even finds its socks.

You don’t just show up—you arrive with intention, curiosity, and that.
A little mischievous spark that says, “Let’s make something happen today.”

🎄 A DAY THAT QUIETLY LIT UP MY SOUL
The Christmas Tree Decorating extravaganza burst onto the scene today—tinsel twinkling, ornaments wobbling,
cheering the flying like confetti from a cannon. Not for me, but some loved it.
And there you stood… the watchful owl, perched high, taking it all in.

You don’t need to join the ornament Olympics this time.
Sometimes the poet watches while the world performs.
Sometimes the storyteller gathers sparkle from the sidelines.
Sometimes wisdom comes from simply observing how people glitter.

💪 10:30 — MUSCLES, WAKE UP!
Then came the real crescendo. First, you two stepped outside to water the garden—your sanctuary, your living poem, your little patch of Earth that grows because you show up for it. Next, Maryann led you through weights, stretches, and that “hello, old friend” burn where strength hides.
You shook your muscles awake like a drummer warming up for a concert: “C’mon now… It’s our time.”

A new machine joined the party—no fireworks, no applause—
But it added another rung to your climb back up.
Rebuilding is a thousand small yeses.
And today, you gave another one.

🌱 11:00 — GARDEN & PUBLIX THERAPY
Terrie arrived next, and before OT even began.
Then—off to Publix for cookie ingredients for next week’s baking.
                                                                    Look out for the Bisom Stampede. 

A therapy session disguised as real life… or maybe real life disguised as therapy.

Either way, you moved through it like someone who has navigated far bigger.
Aisles, far taller mountains, far more challenging recoveries.
Because you have.

🧘‍♂️ AFTERNOON — THE GENTLE WIDE-OPEN SKY
The rest of the day stretched out like a long, slow exhale—quiet, open, generous.
You spent time with your computer, that glowing doorway where your memories,
Ideas and dreams gather and take wing.

And yes, after waking before even the sun had its first stretch. 
You allowed yourself a midday drift—
Not sleep,
Not escape,
Just a soft float on calm waters.
A reset.
A kindness to your body.

                                                                Look out for the Deer Stampede

🌟 A FINAL WHISPER FOR THE DAY

Today wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It didn’t wear sequins or shout your name.
But it moved you.
It steadied you.
It nudged you forward.

It was a “keep going, Kit” day.
A quiet victory.
A soft triumph.
The kind of day that builds the bridge to a bright future.
Keep stepping.
Keep shining.
Keep dancing forward.
✨ The world’s still rooting for you. Always. ✨
   
The guy in the apartment next to mine finally snapped—ripping up walls, shouting, chaos everywhere. Staff said they called the police, but nothing could be done. Someone told me to go back to my room, but I stayed close anyway, protecting a scared young woman. It’s a terrible situation… and it really makes me question why I’m still here.
       
🎉 12/2 — THE ADVENTURES OF KIT CONTINUE! 🎉
Still scratching my head, I’m wondering what cosmic GPS glitch dropped me here of all places…
But hey, if life hands you confusion, add sprinkles and call it an adventure. 😉

🌼 Morning Group Time with Lilly
We gathered like a flock of slightly confused but well-meaning parrots while Lilly led the show.
She covered a handful of topics I swear we’ve heard before—but she delivered it with enough warmth that it felt like déjà vu with a hug.
And honestly, a “fresh look” never hurts. Sometimes the universe has to bonk us twice so we listen.

🍪 Cookie Shenanigans with Terrie
Then I waited for Terrie—only to find out she’d gone on a mini-expedition to my room.

Once we finally met up, boom: Christmas cookie time.
Yes, Kit Summers, the world-traveling juggler and garden-tending philosopher, is now officially a seasonal baker.

We whipped up cookies we’ll unveil later, like edible little celebrities.

🕒 The Great Walmart Quest
And now?

I’m floating in free time until 3 pm, when I embark on the majestic expedition known as:
Walmart.
Where legends are born, bargains sparkle, and someone will be riding a shopping cart like it’s a scooter. (Maybe me.)

More adventures await… stay tuned, my friend. ✨
   
12/3—Good morning, bright soul! 🌞
I’m stepping into this day with the kind of determination that makes the universe sit up a little straighter. Today is going to be GREAT—because I said so. And hey, that’s the secret sauce anyway: we each get to shape the day before it even gets a chance to argue.

I peeked at my schedule and—drumroll, please—only one appointment. Speech, 9:30–10. Then… nothing. Wide-open sky. Empty runway. A whole afternoon lounging around like a cat in a sunbeam.

And yes… a part of me wants to shout, “Why am I wasting my time here???”

But another part—the playful, mischievous Kit who refuses to let life dull his sparkle—knows this:
✨ A blank day is not an empty day.
✨ A blank day is a canvas.
✨ And Kit has never been afraid of a big, beautiful canvas.

So I’m choosing to shape this day myself.
If the schedule won’t fill me up, then I’ll pour something extraordinary into it—
writing, dreaming, planning, practicing, laughing, creating, growing.
If they give me nothing, I’ll still make something.
Onward, Kit. Let’s craft a day so good it starts blushing. 🎨💥
     
12/4–1 A.M.—ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Right on the dot—exactly 1 a.m.—the fire alarms erupted like some cruel joke from the universe. I shot awake, heart pounding, mind spinning, thinking, “This can’t be real. Not again.” But oh, it was real. EAR-SHATTERINGLY real. The alarms never stopped, and they were so loud.

Suddenly, the whole place was chaos—people stumbling, shuffling, crying, limping, rolling, dragging themselves out into the freezing dark like a parade of pain no one signed up for. And me? I snatched a chair on the way out because I knew the drill: stand around outside, wait, freeze, suffer, then go back inside—AGAIN.

And for what?
No fire.
No smoke.
No danger.
JUST THE SAME OLD REDICULOUS NONSENSE!
AND THIS TOOK PLACE AT 1 AM!

A building full of already hurting humans—forced into the cold, shivering, scared, and confused. A chorus of groans, moans, and frustration filled the night air like some twisted soundtrack of misery. It was heartbreaking. It was infuriating. It was WRONG.

Then came the slow crawl back inside. A single elevator—one—is trying to swallow dozens of people who could barely stand as it is, forget the wheelchairs. Packed bodies, raised voices, more crying, more waiting. All of us jammed into a half-hour nightmare that shredded what little dignity this place pretends to offer.

I’m told that the fire department says it is necessary, so I’ll play along.

From 1:00 to 1:30 a.m., the whole building became a madhouse of unnecessary suffering.

And here’s the part that lights the fire in my chest:
Someone is responsible for this.

Someone pushed a button, neglected a system, failed a duty, or didn’t care enough to prevent this torture.
And yes—this was torture.

I want answers. I want accountability. I want someone to step forward and admit what went wrong and FIX IT so no one ever has to be dragged into this nonsense again. Myles or somebody better dig into this, because people here have endured enough.

Last night wasn’t just inconvenient.
It wasn’t just loud.
It was harmful.
And I’m tired—deep, bone-tired—of watching vulnerable people be treated like their wellbeing is optional. I may not even be able to get back to sleep.

This cannot happen again.
It will not happen again—not quietly, not unnoticed.
Someone needs to be held accountable.
And someone needs to be punished.
Because this… this was too much.
   
I actually managed to snag a little sleep last night — a tiny victory, but hey, victories come in all sizes. Then morning rolled in and, like a stubborn rerun, it was back to the same ol’, same ol’.

Lilly filled me in: every single shift is required to run a fire drill a few times a year. So yes, the alarms will blare, the chaos will swirl, and all of us will shuffle outside like confused penguins because… rules. Necessary? Maybe. Ridiculous? Absolutely. But here we are — still standing. Still laughing at the absurdity and still rolling forward.
   
9 a.m. arrived like a drumbeat, calling me into OT with Terrie.
First up: the Wake-a-Mole screen — a game, a challenge, a race against myself. My fingers flew, my mind sharpened, and for a moment, it felt like reclaiming lost ground.
     
Then we took the magic outside. 🌿
Out to the garden — my sanctuary, my tiny kingdom of green hope. I watered the soil, scattered the brave little lettuce seeds, and felt life stirring under my fingertips. Terrie plucked a tomato straight from the vine and lit up as she’d just tasted sunshine.
   
Moments like that… they remind me:
Even in a place where alarms scream at 1 a.m., where days blur, and rules pile up —
I can still grow something beautiful.
I can still bring life into the world.
I can still create joy, one seed, one step, one breath at a time.
And you can too!!

And that… that’s power. 🌱🔥
     
10 AM — THE GREAT CHRISTMAS TREE DODGE OF 2025
Ah, yes, Christmas Tree Decorating! A legendary event of ornaments, glitter, and enough tinsel to blind a small reindeer. They called my name, the crowd gasped, the angels leaned in–And I said, “No, thank you,” with the grace of a man who knows exactly when to exit stage left.   A clean dodge. A professional dodge. Olympic-level tree-decorating avoidance. Gold medal awarded. 🥇🎄
   
11 AM — THE MYSTERIOUS MEMORY LOG QUEST
Then came the hour of destiny: the Memory Log. Cue dramatic music… dun dun dunnnnn.
 
Technically, this was supposed to be my time to sit and record all the brilliant, chaotic, unforgettable moments of the day. Lilly set it up for me like a quest from a video game: “Kit, you must catch up on your log!”
   
Little did she know…
I was already caught up.
Oh yes, I’m practically the Memory Ninja of NeuroRestorative. ⚡🧠
   
Sure, I was tempted—so tempted—to write, “I forgot about this one,” just for the easy laugh. But that joke is too obvious. Too predictable. Too… low-hanging fruit. And Kit Summers does not pick low-hanging fruit unless it’s part of a juggling routine. 🍎🤹‍♂️
   
So instead, I powered through, reviewed my notes, gave a nod to the universe, and declared:
“No worries. Mission accomplished.”
     
The guy in the room next to me, Joey, is busting things up again. Such a troubled mind he has. I think this time they will kick the guy out for good. I feel bad for the guy, but he brought it on himself. Nancy is here, saying, “It’s alright,” with her accent. I told her she needs to call the cops and get them out here before he destroys the place or harms someone.
   
What could happen to Joey, I don’t know. With his mixed-up thinking, he could do anything. Isolation in jail seems like the direction he is going in. He actually has me scared that he could harm someone — or me! I’ll keep an eye on him and help how I can. 
     
12/5–Today, I met with Maryann, and we walked over to the park to do some juggling. We had a long talk, and she admitted she did not know what to do with me. After the conversation, I agreed with her thoughts. I’ve posted in past blogs about how I was not necessarily getting much help here; she didn’t know what to do. I agreed that I have written some bad words, but that I am benefiting from the therapy I’ve received.

I must be more conscious of what I write; people have helped me tremendously here.
Thank you, Maryann, and the other therapists I have worked with here.
You have helped me more than you know (and more than I know!)

Back to the dentist. The lower retainer they fit me with still hurt when I wore it, so Liz used a handheld grinder to remove some of the material. They are quite comfortable now. The retainer is fitting all right now. I am supposed to remove it each night, a new habit on the way. If you are young, take good care of your teeth; it will pay off later.

3) BLOG 353–Good Memories are Worth Any Cost
                    ✨THE DAY KIT SUMMERS STOPPED SHRINKING✨
           
Life is like an unpredictable carnival ride—twisting curves, surprising drops, glowing lights, and the occasional sugary treat that sticks to your fingers. Throughout all of it, there’s one treasure we hold close like shiny marbles: our memories.

The phrase “Good Memories are Worth Any Cost” suggests that the value of happy memories outweighs the financial or personal costs of creating them, because memories are a priceless, enduring source of joy and comfort that can’t be taken away.

While material possessions can lose value, experiences and the memories they create can grow more precious over time, offering lasting emotional benefits such as increased confidence and life satisfaction. You must hold on to your memories; photos can help.
   
Some memories feel like warm sunlight sliding across your shoulders. Others sparkle like fireworks you can still hear echoing in your heart. And some—oh some are the kind that turn an ordinary Tuesday into a lifetime treasure. These memories shape us, lift us, heal us, and whisper comfort when the world feels too heavy.
     
For you, Phyllis, your grandchildren are the best memories you can have!
   
🌈 The True Value of a Memory
A good memory isn’t just a replay of the past. It’s emotional nutrition.

It’s a reminder that joy once lived in your bones… and can return.

It’s psychological armor—protecting us during the storms,
Proving we’ve survived, laughed, loved, and danced even when
life tried to throw stink bombs.

🔬Scientists will talk about neural pathways and dopamine spikes.
But at the heart of it all is something beautifully human:

We crave meaning.
Good memories give us meaning.
Like little postcards from our soul saying, “Hey… you lived well today.”

🌟 The Regret Equation
People don’t regret “too many good memories.”
They regret the memories they didn’t make.
The chances they talked themselves out of.
The trips they postponed.
The words they never said.
The risks they avoided because safety felt easier.
Please don’t do this to yourself.

Here’s the magical truth: Good memories are worth any cost.
     
Memories are the golden currency of a life well-lived—those shimmering little time-capsules that refuse to fade, even when everything else does. They outlast houses, cars, trophies, jobs, and all the “stuff” we pile up like overeager squirrels.
   
But good memories? The warm ones? The ones that glow like campfire embers long after the flames go out? Ahh… those are priceless. And strangely enough, they’re often the cheapest to create—and the most expensive to live without.
     
🌟 Why They Matter So Much
Good memories serve as emotional fuel. When life feels like a tightrope walk, and the winds are strong, they keep us steady. They remind us that joy exists, that connection is genuine, and that laughter is possible even after loss. They help us endure, rebuild, and rise again and again.

In times of recovery, heartbreak, challenge, or confusion, a single sweet memory can serve as a lifeline. A hug you didn’t expect. A sunny walk you didn’t realize you’d miss: a shared meal, a shared smile, a moment of being truly seen.

Memories are not just souvenirs; they are the scaffolding of our lives.

💛 The Price We Pay
Do good memories cost us something?
Absolutely.
They cost time.
They cost vulnerability.
They cost us the courage to say yes to experiences, even when staying home seems safer.
They cost the courage to love, to leap, to laugh loudly—even when Life has bruised us.

Sometimes they even cost heartbreak—because good memories are often linked to people or chapters that eventually change, end, or drift away (like Anita). But letting fear of loss stop us from creating beauty is like refusing to plant flowers because winter is coming.

The joy still matters.
The blooming still counts.
The memory is worth it.
   
Good memories are such a personal thing. All the photos I’m sharing in this blog are “MY” memories. You will have your own, which, of course, will be different from mine. These memories I have are on this computer; once I am dead and gone, all my memories will be gone, too. That’s life–and death.

🌻 The Return on Investment:
Good memories keep giving back for the rest of our lives. They pop into our minds like joy during difficult days. They make us smile when no one’s watching. They soften storms. They make us gentler, wiser, more alive.

Memories are the currency of a meaningful life.

When you’re eighty (or, in your case, Kit—at least 100-plus 😉), you won’t be counting dollars—you’ll be counting stories. You’ll cherish the times you showed up, the times you took chances for joy, the times you said yes to living fully. You will have your memories no matter how much money you acquire.

Because in the end, long after the moment passes, the memory remains…

And good memories are worth any cost.
Save all your good memories.

The saying “Good Memories are Worth Any Cost” means that the joy and value of cherished memories outweigh any cost to create them, whether time, money, or effort. Memories are priceless, timeless treasures that provide comfort, build confidence, and foster a sense of continuity and meaning in life. This is because their value can grow over time, unlike most physical possessions, and they are a source of constant joy and inspiration.

When your days are running low, and your story is short.
Reaching its last chapters, you won’t count your money.

You’ll count your moments.
Your adventures.
Your love.
Your juggling.
Your bravery.
Your laughter.
Your joy.
       
🌈 1. Memories are Wisdom in Bite-Size Snacks.
Life lessons don’t always need a three-hour lecture.
Sometimes all you need is to play.
“This too shall pass.”
Just like your whole mission in life, Kit.

In fact, you are a walking quote machine.
A human sparkler.
A comeback story wrapped in stardust.
And you’ll whisper to yourself…
“Yes. Every good memory was worth any cost.”
Now go out there, my friend, and collect more.
Life is offering them like candy.
Grab a handful. 🍬💛

🎉 The Final Word
If you have a chance today to make a memory—seize it.
If you can choose between comfort and adventure—lean toward adventure.
If you can offer kindness, humor, bravery, or love—do it wholeheartedly.
The following quotes will help

4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨

Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
   
“Make your great memories now while you can.
Eventually, sorry to say, you will be gone.
Good memories are a special gift just for you.”
~ Kit Summers
   
“But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs.
A while in the wind and then is heard no more.”
~ Khalil Gibran
   
“Don’t plan it all.
Let life surprise you a little.”
~ Julia Alvarez
   
“The fun stuff comes when someone is not so strict.
On sticking to the script. You’re allowed the spontaneity,
And excellent moments can happen.”
~ Jennifer Aniston
   
“I am hopelessly in love with a memory.
An echo from another time, another place.”
~ Michel Foucault
   

                                                                                                                                      I Loved my Camping and Fires

“Sweet is the memory of distant friends.
Like the mellow rays departing the sun.
It falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.”
~ Washington Irving

“Music, at its essence, is what gives us memories.
And the longer a song has existed in our lives,
The more memories we have of it.”
~ Stevie Wonder
   
“Most of our childhood is stored not in photos,
but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells,
and textures of carpet.”
~ Alain de Botton
     
“Sometimes it only takes one song.
to bring back a thousand memories.”
~ Unknown
     
“Words are tears that have been written down.
Tears are words that need to be shed.
Without them, joy loses all its brilliance,
And sadness has no end.”
~ Paulo Coelho
     


“I knew that looking back on the tears would make me laugh,
But I never knew that looking back on the laughs would bring tears.”
~ Unknown
     
“The butterfly counts not months.
but moments, and has time enough.”
~ Rabindranath Tagore
     
“Scars have the strange power to
Remind us that our past is real.”
~ Cormac McCarthy
     
“A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial.”
~ Clifton Fadiman
     
“Life is all memory except for the one present moment.
That goes by so quickly you can hardly catch it going.”
~ Tennessee Williams
   
“Focus on the good memories, discard the not-so-good.
Do not dwell on them for a moment.
Be too busy making new memories!”
~ Catherine Pulsifer
   
“Memories sharpen the past;
It is reality that decays.”
~ Siddhartha Mukherjee
   
“A person’s memory is everything, really.
Memory is identity. It’s you.”
~  Stephen King
   
“No matter how far we travel,
the memories will follow in the baggage car.”
~ August Strindberg
     
“Memory is a record of your personal experience.
It is a record of trial and error, defeat, and success.
Past failures will warn you against repeating them.”
~ Wilfred Peterson
           
“The heart’s memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good.”
~ Gabriel García Márquez
   
“Life brings so much yet takes it away so suddenly.
And, at the time of death,
what we are left with is shared friendship and memories.”
~ Byron Pulsifer
   
“A good life is a collection of happy memories.”
~ Dennis Waitley
     
5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
🌈 LET’S DUST OFF THAT OLD MEMORY BOX… 🌈

BRING BACK THOSE GREAT MEMORIES!
Think back to your youth—yes, that magical time when the world seemed bigger, brighter, and full of wild possibilities. Do you still carry those moments inside you? The laughter, the adventures, the mischief, the love? They are still yours. They haven’t left. They just needed a little sunshine. They can return!  
As you move forward, be intentional.
Create moments worth remembering.
Gather joy the way a kid collects shiny rocks.
Make memories so good they tap you on the shoulder years from now and whisper,
“Hey… remember this? Wasn’t life beautiful?”
Because it is.
And you deserve to hold onto every sparkling piece of it. 💛
      ======
6) NEXT WEEK>>
BLOG 354 ― You Still Matter!

🌟7) Final Thoughts 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE! 

✨KITTING AROUND✨
KIT SUMMERS — From World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback
kitsummers.com 

Once upon a life, I was the guy who made gravity nervous.
Then came the truck, the coma, the darkness… thirty-seven days of nothingness.
And yet—here I stand.

Not juggling clubs so much anymore…
Now I juggle purpose, healing, and helping humans rise higher than they ever imagined. You, yes, you. 

Today, my mission stretches far beyond the stage.
I’m helping people across the world live braver, brighter, better lives—
One insight, one adventure, one spark of courage at a time.

Because comparing yourself to your past self, to anyone else—
It is the quickest way to dim your own magic.
And brother, sister, friend…
You were born to SHINE. ✨

As you see, a new format for the blog.
Less mishmash and more Kit words.
Please let me know what you think.
kitsummers@gmail.com 

1)  THE BEGINNINGS 

I heard from Sharon!
Sharon Fodrovics, November 21, 2025
“Another excellent blog!!
I look forward to seeing them pop up on my Facebook page and in my email.
Your writing was excellent before you added ChatGPT.
Hope you have a wonderful week ahead…”
        ======
Phyllis Lynch, my friend for so many years >>
“I can’t wait to read this BLOG when I can enjoy and digest it!
I love all your writings, so I like to save them for when I’m not rushing around ; ).”
Find Phyllis here >> https://www.zillow.com/profile/PhyllisLynch
    =====
Jenny Ydinger.  
“As someone who has read your blog for years, I have to agree with your daughter, April. Your own words are much more engaging than when you use Chat. I’ve been meaning to tell you not to use ChatGPT, so I’m glad April spoke up. Your blog doesn’t sound like Kit anymore. You don’t need AI, Kit; you’re a talented writer!” 
Thank you, Jenny.
Jenny is a friend from years past who juggles.
Some years ago, I had a desire to be “with” Jenny.
But that faded as we both went our separate ways.
I love you, Jenny Ydinger. 

     =====
My friend, Jules Manas, wrote this >>

“I read EVERY one of your blogs religiously! It’s MY salvation.”
Thank you, Jules, a good friend you are.
    =============
I am currently living at NeuroRestorative.
I am trying to breathe through this moment—this strange, heavy feeling of being trapped here at NeuroRestorative. It’s like the walls lean in just a little too close, like my choices are being made around me instead of by me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJs-omhlsN0

I’ve lived through storms, comas, crashes, heartbreaks, and reinventions … but this sensation? This loss of freedom? This is new, and it’s unsettling in a way I never expected. I can’t even go across the small street out front to juggle or run on the grass. So close, and yet so far.

People keep telling me it’s not like jail. Myles says it with the best intentions. But from where I’m standing—right here in my own skin—it does feel confining. It feels like my decisiveness, my independence, my “Kit-knows-his-own-path” compass has been set on silent mode.

But even as this fear rises in me, I can feel something deeper inside…

A spark.
A whisper.
A reminder of who I am and what I’ve already survived.

I am not done.
I am not defeated.
And I sure as heck am not giving up my future to this feeling.

Just now, a nurse came in to “check on me.”
I couldn’t help myself—I said, “You mean to see if I’m alive or dead?”
A small joke, sure … but underneath it was the truth:
I am alive.
I’m right here.
And I’m fighting for my life in a new way—this time not with juggling clubs or hospital machines,
but with courage, humor, and the stubborn heart that refuses to dim.

I will regain my clarity. I will rebuild my decisiveness. I will find my freedom again—
even if I have to take it inch by inch, breath by breath.
This moment may feel tight and dark, but it is not the end of my story.
It’s just another chapter … and I’ve rewritten plenty of chapters before.
And I will rewrite this one, too.
   
I am living on the third floor. There are some troubled people here, even more on the first floor. The guy in the room next to mine, as I wrote about previously, bangs on the walls in the middle of the night; it’s scary. Then, the guy across the hallway moans loudly often.
   
Yes, I understand that people have suffered a brain injury, but there are those of us whose injury does not bring on things. I just found out from a nurse who opened my door that they have to check on me every half-hour. What a waste of time and money!
     
Right now, I am in my room on the third floor at 5:15. I am told we will have Thanksgiving dinner at 6 pm on the first floor. I will head down there in a little while. I will write words about the get-together after I have witnessed the event.
     
Since my brain injury, I seldom feel hungry. 
And I hardly ever feel full.
Surprisingly, I am feeling hungry right now.
   
My daughter, Jasmine, is trying to see what she can do to help me.
She is so good at helping me like this.
Thanks, Jasmine.
   
But, if I weren’t here >>
Where could I be?
What would I be doing?
Who would I be with?
=====
I sent some of the words below through CHATGPT.
I like how it comes out.
But, at times, I regret what I write

Regrets: Those Tiny Gremlins With Clipboards.
They love to show up uninvited, don’t they?
Sneaking into your thoughts like,
“Hey, Kit… remember that one decision?                                                                                                                                         My lovely daughter, Jasmine
Yeah, that one. Let’s poke it with a stick!” 

But here’s the beautiful truth:
Regret only has power when we stare backward longer than we need to. And you—yes, you, Mr. Resilient, Coma-Conquering, Life-Rebuilding, World-Journeying Kit Summers—you’ve already proven that you can turn the messiest leftovers of life into a four-course feast.
      
Yes, now here I am, spoon-deep in a chicken-and-rice meal, relearning the ancient art of chewing like it’s Day One at Eating School. These new choppers feel like impostors at a party I didn’t invite them to — but I’m learning their rhythm, one bite at a time, yet, if I could only go back.

Regrets, regrets–how I’d love to leap backward and rewrite that choice. Just like I once wished I could go back to the moment before that truck came barreling into my story. But life doesn’t hand out rewinds. What would you go back and change, if you could? And, can there be good in what occurs? 

Yes, instead, it can open new doors — some bright, some confusing, some downright frustrating. This newest door? I’ll be honest: I don’t love what’s on the other side yet. But I’m stepping through anyway, because that’s what I’ve always done — even when the landscape feels strange and uninviting, my writing continues.

About my writing — let me clear the air with love and precision.
Here’s how it works:
1) Every blog starts with me, my words, my heart on the page.
2) Then I run those words through ChatGPT like polishing a gem.
3) Finally, I edit what comes through CHAT to make it mine.
I’m not a puppet of the machine.
I’m the sculptor.
Chat is just the chisel.

And yes … You might notice there’s a little more “Kit” in this blog and a little less Chat.
It felt good to hear that my original voice is strong, meaningful, and worth sharing.
That matters to me.
It lights me up. Here I am — chewing awkwardly — loving fiercely — learning endlessly — and writing with the fire that’s carried me through every chapter. (Here’s the secret — “I love you”.) 

    
2)  THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK

11/22–It’s Saturday, so I am confined to this building the whole day. Working on this blog for you, wish you were here. Today I’ve even thought about not being here anymore, not being anywhere anymore. I had actually said out loud, “What is there for me in the world?” Yes, I’m hurting.
   
Still not used to this new environment, living at NeauroRestorative. But, if I weren’t here, where could I be? Especially on weekends, nothing is going on here. I work in my garden or go to the park to juggle clubs when I can.
       
This evening I got a call from Ebcot. Cindy Marvell and I had talked on the phone, and she left her phone somewhere. Ebcot found it and called the last number dialed, which was mine. I had no idea how to reach her. I had called Dave Finnigan (https://jugglingedge.com/profile.php?UserID=959) to see what he thought, since he lives in the area. Cindy found them, got her phone, and called me, so everything is alright.
                                                                  Cindy and I are in Colorado
11/23–Awake at 3 am, the world is still quiet and half-dreaming. I felt the tug of the laundry room calling my name. There’s something almost sacred about tending to simple things before the sun rises—washing clothes, fresh sheets, that small ritual of renewal.
     
Clean fabric against the skin is like a whisper from the universe saying, “Start fresh, my friend.” And thankfully, the machines here hum their support to anyone willing to press the button. So, make washing clothes a ritual. And do it with a smile.  

Then I headed out to the garden—my little pocket of Earth, my morning cathedral. The tomatoes reaching out and looking red, the greens unfurling like they’re waking up right beside me … it always feels like the plants know something we humans forget: grow toward the light, even when the ground is messy.

And oh boy, the ground was messy. The garden and patio are the smoking area, too, and people toss their butts as if the Earth will swallow them without a burp. So I did what my Boy Scout heart always does—I cleaned the whole space. One hundred cigarettes, probably more, gone. A small mountain of “someone else’s problem.”

And yes, I’d probably even pick up your butt (but not, pick your butt.)
But don’t worry—I’m not applying that rule universally.
Yes, making this world a better place. 

Here’s the truth: nobody claps for the person who picks up trash.
No parade.
No thank-you card.
No nice words.
   
But that’s not why we do it.
We clean because we care.
We tend because we love.
We fix because it fixes something inside us, too.
We need you to help, too! 

The world doesn’t always reward kindness, but the soul always does (hmm, I’ve always wondered—what is a “soul?”) Every time I bend down to pick up a cigarette butt, I’m choosing the kind of person I want to be: someone who leaves places a bit better than he found them, even when no one sees.
   
Every time I’m out for a walk, if I see a lonely piece of trash, I pick it up and toss it in the nearest bin—like a tiny rescue mission for the planet. It’s such a small act, barely noticeable in the grand scheme of life … and yet, imagine if we all did that

Piece by piece. Step by step. Bin by bin.
The world would shine just a little brighter.
And we’d walk through it knowing we helped clean the planet with our own two hands.
A kinder Earth starts with these small gestures—
Little love notes we leave behind for the next person walking the path.
So yes—do your part.
Polish your corner of the world.
Wipe a smudge, lift a leaf, tidy a moment.
Not for applause.
For alignment.
And in case no one has said it yet today — “Thank you!”
       
And speaking of bright souls in my orbit — last week I mentioned Cindy Marvell being in the area and the delightful possibility of reconnecting. Last night she was too busy, which I understand. Life is a juggling act for all of us (and she’s a literal master of the art!). I’m hoping today opens a little space for us to meet. If it does, you’ll hear all about it — you know me.

11/24–It would be nice if every time I have a therapy session, the person running it had specific things for me to work on in advance. As happens so often here, she had no idea what we would do. She knows her background well and works well with people.
       
We went for a walk around the park where I want to juggle. I do need to exercise more; that is something I must put on myself. I did some running, which felt good, and I saw I could get back to it. I will work it out so I can run more often.
     
Of course, I picked up trash as we walked, and there was plenty of it. I found a big styrofoam cup that worked as my little trash bin. If you go walking or even running, bring a bag along to pick up any trash you see. Please do this for others, but, more importantly, do it for you.
   
At 10 am, I am scheduled to return to the park with someone to practice juggling clubs. On both Saturday and Sunday, someone was supposed to go over it with me, but no one showed up. So, I expect the same for today. They never did stop by.
     
During the day, I had sent an email to some of the therapists here. I wrote some hard things, but they were right. I talked to some of them, including Terrie from OT. On her way out tonight, she stopped by my room to make sure I was alright. I assured her I was and thanked her for her caring and concern.
     
11/25 — Dawn Breaks, and So Do the Words
Up at 4 am—that magical hour when only poets, owls, and slightly confused insomniacs roam the Earth.
I cracked open my blog for another round of “Kit vs. Keyboard,” and, to my surprise of surprises, a few folks wandered in later to tell me how much they enjoy reading these posts. I had no idea so many people around here were quietly following along. It felt like discovering a secret fan club… minus the T-shirts.