The Story of Together

(Read to Song for Rome by Brian Crain)

In her mind there is a fantasy.  A world where all offenses were erased and everyone started new.  She can see a staircase from which people of the past come to see her.  There are smiles and stories shared.  There is laughter, and exchanged smiles are not frozen in time.  In her story, everyone got the opportunity to apologize from the heart.  Transgressions were erased, and there are no scars that are either visible or remembered.

They all come, it is quite the reunion.  There is that staircase; it shines of clean white light.  All of come to gather one more time to be happy, be together.  They have come to write the story of together.

The story starts to be written.  The beginning is beautiful to her.  They are all together, sharing their love for company.  Sharing the good times, and the memories.  Once more, she has them all together for the first time under the same roof.  These are not the missed old days.  These are the good days.  The ones that happened many holidays ago.  When mom and dad cooked delicious dinners in expectation of hope, and new things to come.  Those days are gone, yet the staircase has brought goodness back.

And she wonders as she watches them come down the staircase.  Yes, that beautiful staircase that emits such a wonderful, clean white light.  The air is clean, they are all dressed in pure light or is it white?  She never saw such beauty.

They come in, hug her, tell her that all is well.  They bring their permanent things, and wear a permanent smile that says “I will never leave you.”  There are so many of them, where will they go?  Yet the house expands as far and wide as the staircase.  It can accommodate all.  Because we will never be alone again, we will never be separated.  We will have those good times when mom and dad cooked the foods that brought the neighbors, friends and family to their home.  Back when there were the good days.  The uncomplicated days.

She turns around, the house has expanded from a five bedroom to a comfortable building of apartments.  She cannot quite tell whether these are townhouses, yet it matters not because they are here to stay.  For the upcoming good days.  The forever days.  There is no more pain, suffering, or bad memories.  They are all improved, and this is what she believes heaven shall look like.  They are so glad to see each other.  She is so glad to have them near.  So close that she can touch them.  She no longer imagines the good days, because they have come.  She is relieved.  She can breathe again, deep into the diaphragm.  Down into her soul.  Down into her healed heart.

They have come to write the story of together.


Apology Letter 1

Hi Shannon,

I never got to properly speak with you after the debacle.  You know you had it coming.  It had been years of abuse and trashing other people.  You were rather liberal with the truth, and it finally caught up with you.  You know?  I used to admire you from afar.  There was something positive about you; a light that I felt you gave away.  I was so wrong about it.  You were a bitch.

Oh, sorry…that doesn’t sound like an apology.  STARTING OVER!

Hi Shannon,

How have you been?  Oh, don’t leave please.  I need to apologize to you.  Its been a bit over a year since we last interacted.  Perhaps I did not understand where you were in your life at that time.  But was it my responsibility?  I, after-all, worked for you.  I remember how you lost all that weight, and started wearing red lipstick.  I remember those weird shoes that you used to wear to work with the prints all over them.  The shoes reminded me of the Mad Hatter’s outfit in Alice (you know, the one played by Johnny Depp).  It was all so strange.  You took that long vacation, and I knew right away that you had potentially had some sort of cosmetic surgery.  Oh, but Shannon…that modification did not help you with your attitude.  You see?  Treating the surface stuff never helps.  You gotta get deep in there, but you never did.

Do you know what we all thought of you?  That you played ‘flavor of the month.’  This referred to how you got every time a new employee joined us.  You were a fan for like 3 months straight…then, it was all over.  It was frustrating.  You were the boss!  I mean, would you play favorite with your kids?

Anyway, I’m so sorry that I had to call the cops on ya.  You cornered me; I was afraid of you.  So powerless.  Shannon, filing racial discrimination complaints is a right that all citizens have.  You mistreated me for my nationality and background; I was cornered and had to do something.  You betrayed my trust; I used to look up to you.

My complaint was not the only thing that got you fired from your job; it was the complaints of so many others.  Yet, we did not all come together as a team.  You played us against each other.  You were bad business.  In the end, your own boss could not wait to see you go.

I am sorry that things did not work out between us.  I apologize.  No, the letter does not resemble an apology letter, yet I had to put my feelings out there.  Shannon, I really hope that you have found God.  I hope that you left all of the fairy and witch stuff go away.  I pray that you have changed.  I also pray that if you did not change, may the Lord set you aside to a place where you cannot damage anybody else.



Apology Letters / Thank You Letters

I am not sure how or why I came up with this idea; I’m certain that I am not the first person to think of this.  Last night, I was praying and thinking of all the suffering that is currently taking place around the world.  Yes, we’ve had suffering for a while, but I was specifically thinking of the events in Mexico, Puerto Rico, and finally Las Vegas.  It is just a LOT to take in.  So, I thought about writing apology letters to the people that I think, sense, and feel that I have done wrong in the past.  A few years ago, I thought about writing 10 Thank You letters to random people but never did.

I am not suicidal:  although I’ve been there.  These are not goodbye notes; my family needs me okay!  I’m narcissistic enough to say that out loud.  A year ago, I felt different.  Today, I’m in a better spot.  Anyway, join me in reading the good, the bad, and the nasty that I can bring as a human being.  I will say what folks think yet do not articulate.

Cheers and blessings 🙂

What losing hope looks like

It all started a couple of years ago for me.  It built up from somewhere.  I cannot identify today when exactly it all started, but I do remember the feelings each time I felt it.  In spite of all the things that I have gone through in life, I never lost my hope in people.  I always looked first at the good side of people; it felt right.  In time, I realized that I was wounded over and over again.  In response, I wounded back.

I did not realize that I was playing a survival game.  You see?  When you have no choice but to be in a situation, in the company of certain people, you learn to cope.  You learn the triggers.  You learn the ‘what to’s’ and the ‘what nots.’  It is all a survival game.

Yet, it was not until last year that I fell entirely.  I was paranoid, I could not find one person to trust.  Here is the worse part of it all:  I didn’t even bother going to God.  I did not pray about anything because I had become so self-sufficient.  I mean, I had the “fear” of God, as Christians define it…but I did not “go to” Him.

The day that I realized I was pretty much mortally wounded, I couldn’t fathom just how much blood I had lost in the game.  I was dehydrated, malnourished, unprepared.  I fell on the ground with a fatal wound to the heart, the chest, and my soul.  I realized that I had lost my weapon in the field of battle.  I had no energy.  Gone.  Dead.  A zombie.

Yet, I disappeared into the desert.  There, in the solitude of all, I started to gain strength.  I stayed there until my legs could carry me.  I questioned God a million times.  I learned that God does not answer all prayers.  I learned that God grows quiet.  I learned that the more I screamed at God, the less He spoke to me.  I learned that going to God with “me” or “I” does not get me a quicker response.  I learned to live, breathe, and wait every day.

Learning that God does not answer all prayers has been hard.  It has given me the ability to survive with what I have.  For the first time in my life, I have no clear path.  I don’t know who I am.  I don’t know why God is keeping me around.  You know how Christians speak of how God has a greater plan?  They speak of how God has the situation?  How God has prepared the way?

Well, sometimes I feel that God’s purpose for me is to make an example out of me.  That perhaps all of these dreams in my heart are meant to break me.  That I think too highly of myself.  That I have no right to dream.  That I do not work hard enough for those dreams.  I mean…what is a dream if you do not work towards it?  I mean…didn’t we need Judas to betray Jesus so that we could all be saved?  I’ve heard that Judas had a choice…but did he?

What about David and Goliath?  David wouldn’t be so famous if he didn’t kill Goliath.  So…didn’t he need that giant then?  Later on, the stories of King David would not be so great had we not known of his biggest enemy:  King Saul.  So, would King David’s deeds be so big had it not been for King Saul?

Is my destiny to be someone’s Goliath, Saul, Judas?  Am I God’s “what not to do” special?

I am not trying to kill your faith with this.  I am questioning  what has happened in my life.  Why did I end up here?  Like this.  Some may say that I need to pray more; yet the truth is that I pray everyday.  On my knees, I humble myself.  I do.

Because believe it or not…God is all I have left.  Last year, I fantasized with sleeping and never waking up.  These days, I wake up with a lot of pain on my chest.  I believe that the many blows to this heart of mine have left a bruise.

I have managed to stay away from people for close to a year now.  It has been healing, yet I realize that I am still too sensitive.  Opinions bother me, I am disappointed in myself, I cannot find a recruiter that will call me (I am unemployed).  I feel like a slow train wreck.

Is there any hope that this will all end well?  Is there something good for me on the other side of the road?  Is God ever going to…?

Save me


S.O.S. by Indila

This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
I’ve quited all but don’t resent me
Needed that I went, I was not me anymore
I’ve fallen so low
That no one sees me anymore
I’ve sunk in anonymity
Fought the emptiness and the cold, the cold
I’d like to come back, I don’t succeed
I’d like to come back
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…
Silence kills the suffering in me
Do you hear it? Do you see me?
He promises to you, makes of you
An object without brightness
Then I’ve shouted, I’ve thought of you
I’ve drowned the sky in the waves, the waves
All my regrets, all my story
I reflect it
I’m nothing, I’m no one
I’ve all my sorrow as a kingdom
Only a weapon imprisons me
Seeing light through the bars
And looking how beautiful the sky is
Do you hear my voice that resounds (that resounds)?
This is a S.O.S., I’m touched, I’m on the ground!
Do you hear my distress, is there someone?
I feel that I’m loosing myself…

The incomplete story of someone that used to be someone

(Read to “Out of It All” by Helen Jane Long)

I was once someone.  A person of value.  A person present, a person in the moment.  I knew who I was.  I was certain.  It was me.  I knew me.  I knew her.

Now, I live under the shadow of what I used to be.  Some have told me that I must let that person go.  That I need to move on.  But how can I break up with myself?  How do you let go off the one that you loved?  What if it was you whom you loved all along?  Should I let her go?

She is still here.  I can feel her inside of me.  There are traces of her in my house. Yes, I can definitely feel her in the mornings.  I can feel and see her.  I can see her making her favorite breakfast in the morning.  That seamless smile when she tastes the fresh cup of coffee in the morning.  Many don’t know this, but I do:  it is not the taste, but the scent of a freshly brewed cup that makes her eyes shine.  She used to say “My coffee is not a drink.  It is dessert.  Shh”

God, I miss her so much.  I was jealous of her, you know?  She knew who she was; and I didn’t.  She was not afraid; this feeling was a waste of time for her.  She was powerful, and she walked like a person that knew her future.  But, did she?

One day, her steps faltered.  She fell, out there… in the rain.  It was a mess.  She fell, and she could not get back up as she used to.

Today, she walks with a limp.  There are times when she has to use crutches, because she is afraid of the rain.

She is afraid of the fall.

I am afraid of the fall.

The night my enemies loved me

(Read to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” as interpreted by Midnite String Quartet)

Last night I dreamed that my enemies were my lovers.  Well, not really.  I dreamed that every single one of my enemies was very attracted to me; they all wanted to flirt with me.  They wanted me sexually.  They wanted to be my friends.  I was a magnet, and they were in my magnetic field.

And I wanted them to want me.

So we flirted all night, yet we looked at each other from the ends of a room.  Not a large room, not so small either.  Just right.  We could had walked to each other, but it was better to miss each time.  From afar, we laughed and danced.  I believe we danced all night.  I don’t remember.  The wine was…

But this night was different.  I was beautiful, and they were attractive.  We were in that space because of the cold outside.  They approached and wanted to love me.  And I wanted them to want me.  Because this night was different; I was beautiful.

That night I was the one.  Better yet:  I was the one within the one.

But I didn’t let them love me.  I didn’t let them want me enough.  I didn’t want to dance with them, not closely anyway.  From far away things seem so much better.  I am braver this way.  I am beautiful this way.  I don’t have to escape from the cold of the wind.  Because it is warm inside.  Let’s stay inside.

All I wanted was my drink.  I wanted their eyes off my body.  Yet, it was not my body that they wanted.  What did they want?  I think I knew all along.  Towards the end of the evening, I realized that either I gave them something, or I would go back to ordinary.  No one prefers the ordinary; beauty is so much better.  The wine was…

My eyes.  They wanted the light in my eyes.  Once they knew about it, they needed it gone.  I wondered what I should do:  let them take it, let them ask for it, let them steal it, let them…drink it.

My enemy wanted a drink of my eyes.  Because then, from afar, I would be trivial again.  No one prefers the trivial; beauty is so much better.

…they wanted it all.



(Read to Beethoven’s 5 Secrets by the Piano Guys)

“For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality.” 1 Corinthians 15:53

When are you going to breathe the life that is inside that living body?  Look at the sky, count the stars.  Find something that amazes you, that takes your breath away.  Can’t find it?  Go for a run.  BUT GET UP and be ALIVE.


Don’t be a bitch to destruction.  You are not a toy to your enemies.  You are alive.

RISE AGAIN.  And if you fall again?  Get back up, rise, and RUN back to the living.



Open wounds that do not heal

(Read to Michele McLaughlin’s “The Druid’s Prayer”)

They hurt.  Wounds that are open cannot easily heal.  They remain open to the infections of this world.  Recovery, are we capable of it?  They hurt, they ooze out what is left of our souls.  There is no redemption for the stupid, for the lonely, for the deep inside.

Open wounds that do not heal.  You have gotten used to the idea and some of the pain.  Pain is pain, how can we ever get completely used to that?  If it hurts, well…it hurts.  Yet, you are wondering when will these wounds heal.  Close off.  You have tried all sorts of methods.  Stitches, gauze, bandages, they stay there.  Open for all to see.

Open for all to see.  The open wounds that do not heal.  It has been so long, you wear shame on your face.  You try to hide your face and your eyes from the world.  But you just can’t remember that the world is not a forgiving place.  The world enjoys seeing you injured.  The world enjoyed see you fall on your face in the battlefield.  It cheered to your mistakes, it laughed until it cried.

You fell.  You hurt.  You injured yourself so badly that the wounds will not heal.  You look at the sky and you pray.  First, you pray with your heart.  Second, you pray with your brain.  Third, you pray in your pain.

But the wounds.  They do not heal.

Rising above…but when?

(Read while playing Carly Comando’s “Everyday”)

Ever had a situation that seemed so completely unfair that it left you speechless?  I’ve had that feeling many times.  We always seem prepared for the unexpected, until the unexpected happens.  This is especially true if you are a person of your word.  If you give your word because there is honor in you, then you may assume that others have the same capacity.  The truth is that honor and giving our word has become something of the past.  It even seems like ‘giving your word’ has become an expression, figurative speech, not serious.

Then betrayal happens.

Suddenly, you remember all the words.  They come to you, at you, through you furiously fast.  You replay every moment.  You’ve never been paranoid, but today you are a master at it.  Because…

“What did I do to deserve this?”  “How could they lie so easily?”  “He was there, he saw everything!  Why did he lie?!?”

Perhaps it is not as bad.  You’ve been wronged, or at least you feel you have.  At first, you feel that you’ve made the right choice in leaving a bad situation.  Yet now, you wonder.  Why did YOU have to be the one to go?  Why did YOU have to be the BIGGER person?  Screw the bigger person.  Fuck the bigger person.  Can’t we just be trivial for a second here?  Can’t we just bitch and complain one more time!?  Can I just rant for a second here and empty my soul into your ears??  CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING!  SCREECHING!  HOLLERING!

Pain, depression, sweat, sleeplessness, paranoia.  FALL ASLEEP, START OVER TOMORROW.  REPEAT.

It had to be you, because you are the daughter of light.  It had to be you, because you are the son of justice.

It had to be you.  Thrive, rise, come back, move on.

The words.  They mean something.