Being on the Other Side

I can still hear the cell doors closing. It was like a cackle of evil as the steel doors clacked and clocked. If you were sleeping a dream of love, family, good sex, and food…there was nothing like that echoing ghost to wake you up into reality.

My brother is in there…

He tried to reach me but that prison phone isn’t designed to help, it is designed to make you pay money to some private company so you can talk to your friend or loved one. That damn prison phone. How dare you hold my brother for ransom and make me pay, using something new called telephone extortion.

That prison phone is always taken too. Have you ever sat on a steel stool under bright lights waiting for an open phone to call your loved ones. Add a small, neurotically controlled room filled with many different forms of violence, rape, molestation, mental illness, broken homes, and what you have is fear and anger. You need both to survive.,

Back to the story.

There i was, walking in the humid and sticky golden sunshine of Florida when I receive a phone cal from a Texas number. For the first two minutes I am talking to a machine telling me someone in jail is trying to reach me.

Really? Hmm…who could that be?

I guess they forgot we were human…

Someone in prison turned out to be my brother who is not by blood, but by bond. He was there for me when I was down and out, and I am repaying the favor. I do it for reasons that are not for me to know or understand, just do what is right and pay it forward.

At first I am kind of angry and feel upset about the whole situation. He was doing good, he was getting involved with a church group and AA members, he was slowly getting his life back together.

He fell…and he fell hard.

But then I remember the power that exists in working with another on solving problems, like defects and dysfunction, and I remember how to exercise that power. It is in guiding another towards a common goal of surviving that we find what it means to love.

I accept the call by pressing 0 and finally get to talk to my brother. We both wasted 30 seconds bitching about how the phone was cheap on time, until he gave me the address to the facility he is in down in Maryland.

We get disconnected. I am walking down my street and this computer voice tells me to get out my credit card to set up an account. I shake my head in disgust at this low blow to humanity’s balls…

I get out a piece of paper and a pen, and I do something that is a forgotten relic of the slower past: I write him a letter. Not just any letter, one that connects to him to a level of understanding. This is the only way to work with someone and help them recover from anything.

In that letter I tried to give him so much love, compassion, and kindness on top of stern, angry, frustrated sentences because I was hurting. My brother hurt me the way he wasn’t being healthy, or taking care of his kids, or being a better husband to a wife that when together would mix into police and court cases. I love them  both, and I love their two boys. They are so young and have a good chance of growing up to be the next savior!

That is how we go from being on one side of life to another. From darkness to light. From dope to hope. From death to  rebirth into a new person.

I am happy to say that today my brother is out of prison. He is not just free physically, but there is something about his spirit that gives him this personal freedom, all to his own. It is times like these that I  stop, take a moment to breathe, and realize just how important words can be. When I think back on the phone calls from that Texas private prison number, I remember wanting to break him out but the only way out…was for him to do it on his own with his personal belief in God.

Today he is living like God.

Thanks for being beyond a best friend to someone I consider family by bond. We are just like Bill and Dr. Bob, and the funny part is most people don’t even know who the two greatest movement starters since Jesus and Moses’ time!

Let’s go out and see if this magazine can’t do what the Big Book did! But this is not about AA or NA, this is about UA: UniversallyAnonymous

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A Basic Miracle

Let us suppose, for sake of example, that on a certain Monday, your affairs are in such a condition that, humanly speaking, certain consequences are sure to follow before the end of the week.

These may be legal consequences, perhaps of a very unpleasant nature following upon some decision of the courts; or a physician may decide that a perilous operation will be necessary.

Now, if someone can raise the consciousness of the harassed individual above the limitations of the physical plane then the conditions on that plane will change, and, in some unforeseen and normally impossible manner, the legal tragedy will melt away, and to the advantage, be it noted, of all parties to the case; or the patient will be healed instead of having to undergo the operation.

In other words, miracles, in the popular sense of the word, can and do happen as the result of a change of consciousness, and a change of consciousness is usually accomplished through prayer. Thus prayer does change things.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts(Isaiah 55:9)

Let’s explore something new, something different, something that could be used to rise up above the low level of fear, worry, anxiety, and stress disorders…they are not disorders, they are just imbalances of the brain which can be fixed by a what?

A miracle.

I am a miracle, you are a miracle, we are eternal my friends, and we live one hell of a story. You have always been with me, my friends, even during times I didn’t want you…I didn’t want anyone…I wanted to be dead…

All around me I recognize fellow souls kindred to mine, and when we connect and talk to one another we are discovering new worlds. As stars collide and are reborn we collide with one another and exchange elements, thoughts, words, ideas, laughter, tears, appearances, judgments, past in the present moment. It is almost like a portal to another existence, an evolution, and this is where miracles happen.

If one human can live at a low level of existence with minimal knowledge and talent, and grows up angry and fights because he doesn’t understand why he feels that way, and rise above all the limitations set by his own confused and immature mind. If that  one human could evolve…to a higher state of thinking, his life would be saved from court dates, jail time, detox vacations and getting caught treatment cycles….and dodge the bullet that is fired from that dark place.

All it takes is a thought.

Loneliness is the perfect time to start getting to know yourself. I sat down with myself tonight and cried, I laughed, and felt so human and so vulnerable. The feelings were a mix of happiness and pain, happy because I am ready to live the life of a spiritual warrior, and pain because I can feel it in the air…the cries…

I need to connect…where are my fellow spiritual warriors at? Time to fight back, and we do it with love. The real revolution is love…and when these readings inspire me to share it to anyone who has been through something hard, something traumatic, something that changed you forever…

Call it whatever you want, it is something that never leaves me, the darkness…but the dark gives me room to pray, to exercise love and expel fear, and rise up to meet the challenge of my generation. I have faith in my fellow young people. I have so much trust in the power of a country turned into a large fellowship.

The only democratic society is one that has been judged as a cult, so forget any huge public opinion on Alcoholics Anonymous they are afraid of the word ALCOHOL.

The attitude toward drinkers is still negative. What about the attitude of AA towards non-alcoholics? It is intolerant toward so many people and it divides, not unifies, the power of the Fellowship.

But the one thing that gives it validity as a  true democratic party is there is no ruler. There is no president. There is no monarchy. There are millions of groups all connected by one common purpose: to recover from a sickness of mind and body. This bond makes it the best kind of gang, because they are  not going to rob you, sell you drugs, or kill you for some trivial reason…we have members like that too, but we roll with LOVE and SERVICE to the person out there who is all lone and slowly dying…

To see them come back to life is truly worth all the pain and suffering we go through when one of our loved ones suffers from addiction or a hidden illness that people just don’t understand! When that happens, when they come back from the gates of hell and we hug them, kiss them, welcome them home…

we heal.

Home is where the heart is, and some hearts beat miracles. Drop that beat.

 

Change From Within

Kindness

Man is a mental being, and to know this is the first step on the road to freedom and prosperity, for as long as you believe yourself to be primarily physical, a superior kind of animal, you will remain in bondage – in bondage, that is to say, to your own habits of thought, for there is no other bondage.

Since you are a mental being, you will see how foolish it is for you to endeavor to improve your conditions by altering your environment while leaving your mind unchanged. To attempt this is to foredoom yourself to disappointment. Mind is cause, and experience is effect. If you do not like the experience or effect that you are getting, the obvious remedy is to alter the cause and then the effect will naturally alter too.

– Emmet Fox

Thou blind pharisee, cleanse first that which is within the cup and platter, that the outside of them may be clean also  (Matthew 23:26)
 
There will be another free distant energy healing for everyone who wants to join and all their friends, families and anyone else who reads this. The main healing session is SATURDAY FEBRUARY 22, 2014 from 6-7pm Pacific Standard Time or same as Los Angeles, (7-8pm MST), (8-9 CST), (9-10pm EST-same as New York).

You can join this free distant energy healing session by using your intention to be included. If you wish to join, just close your eyes for a minute when you read this and mentally say that you intend to join the session and want to be included. That is all you have to do to connect with the energy and you don’t have to do anything else. Healing energy can begin to flow to you once you do this as many people who have done this before have reported.

You join simply by using your intention after reading this.

The energy works on many levels, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Even though it’s a group healing, the energy works with everyone individually. The energy is intelligent and knows best how to work with your energy system. The energy infuses light and energy into your energy field and can help clear and balance the acupuncture meridians, chakras and other energy channels. The energy won’t weaken with a large group and can even get stronger with more people. Distance isn’t a problem and you can receive this energy anywhere in the world.

To receive the energy you just sit or lie down and relax on FEBRUARY 22 from 6-7 PM Pacific Time-same as Los Angeles (PST) or 9-10pm New York Time (EST) and receive the energy. Even if you have to be active during the session you can still receive great results.

Many spiritual traditions teach that we are all connected and now some Quantum Physicists are saying the same thing. These ancient teachings often mention the most important thing we can do is help others. When we help others we are also helping ourselves because we are all connected…

And So It Goes…Healing from Within

Our Father

The Lord’s Prayer is the most important of all the Christian documents. Everyone who is seeking to follow along the Way that Jesus led, should pray the Lord’s Prayer intelligently every day. The Great Prayer is a compact formula for the development of the soul. It is designed with the utmost care for that specific purpose; so that those who use it regularly , with understanding, will experience a real change of soul. It is the change of soul that matters. The mere acquisition of knowledge received intellectually makes no change in the soul.

The first thing that we notice is that the prayer naturally falls into seven clauses. This is very characteristic of the Oriental tradition. Seven symbolizes individual completeness, the perfection of the individual soul, just as the number twelve in the same convention stands for corporate completeness. The seven clauses are put together in perfect order and sequence, and they contain everything that is necessary for the nourishment of the soul. The more on analyzes the Lord’s Prayer, the more wonderful its construction is seen to be.

After this manner therefore pray ye…(Matthew 6:9)

-Emmet Fox

If you went to church as a kid, then you have the Lord’s Prayer memorized and can recite it on demand. If you go to any 12 step group whether it be AA, NA, OA, SA, CA, Al-Anon or any of the thousands of “Anonymous” groups, then you recite the prayer at the end of the meeting while holding hands together in a circle. Not every meeting ends like this, some choose to recite the Serenity Prayer, usually because they think the Lord’s Prayer is too churchy and religious. That is too bad, but to each their own.

Since all the 12 step groups spawned from Alcoholics Anonymous, it is important to look at where this fellowship got its roots of spirituality and belief from. The literature for AA is called The Big Book, and it is a book based on Christian beliefs in one God and that God is mentioned many times along with prayers that sound really religious. A lot of people are turned off by this and turn away from the true message behind the words because it brings up resentment and uncomfortable feelings. This needs to be addressed since this book contains the simplest and most direct way to God that even priests agree with. Many people find their understanding of God through 12 step groups. They have the best approach, one that does not involve forcing one belief down your throat as the end all be all of religious truth. It is one that allows the person coming in the door to decide for themselves what kind of God they will choose to believe in, and the success of millions across the world of people who were once sick and suffering is proof that it works.

But where does it all come from?

Alcoholics Anonymous was started when Bill Wilson who lived in New York, a drunk, found another drunk,  Bob Smith, and they shared their stories of insanity and alcoholic tortue together. Both stayed relatively sober after that first meeting, and after finding other drunks to get sober, created the 12 steps of recovery. That is the history in a nutshell, so all you history experts stop right there and shut your dirty little whorish mouths. 10th step: Admit when I am wrong. Sorry about the rude comment, I didn’t mean it and was only trying to be witty, clever, and silly. Moving on…

This guy Bill, who engineered the 12 steps, attended lectures and followed the New Thought movement that was big back in the 1930’s. The movement was led by a little man from Ireland name Emmet Fox. His understanding of the Bible surpassed any of his time and in my belief any since it was written. Fox used to fill Carnegie Hall and lecture halls across the country, this little guy with a little voice, and people were captivated by his love and his understanding which he spoke so clearly about to the audience. Bill Wilson and the early Alcoholic Anonymous’ would not have made it without his help. Maybe they could have but Emmet Fox’s influence on the Big Book literature is unmistakable. The daily inventory, the prayer and meditation, the restitution, the self-analysis, the positive and constructive thinking that it promotes…all stems from principles that Emmet Fox talked about and wrote about.

In fact, up until a certain period Emmet Fox could be read about in pamphlets that were handed out at AA meetings across the U.S. But for some strange and very disappointing reason, General Service stopped supporting that and it faded away. The message contained in Fox’s words gave myself and my father a spiritual experience, and also helped people who I gave it to. Any message that has the power to change the way someone thinks, from one way that isn’t working to another that is better and works 10 times more effectively, is exactly what the Bible and the Big Book is supposed to be doing…but sadly it is not. The Big Book has become a prop for windows, a paper weight, and a place to hide money. If you look at the recovery rate across the country it is directly related to the decrease in understanding and usage of the Big Book, which contains a powerful message and practical daily designs for happy, peaceful, positive living. Why? How come?

The treatment machine is one reason. Why use something that is free and works when you can market something like expensive ass treatment facilities that don’t work and it will keep them coming back for help? The intention might be good but all that does is make a smooth ride to hell. Which is what is happening in these facilities as funding shuts down. If any of you have been in a holding facility in Massachusetts, you will know what I speak of. Same thing for detox and residential programs. Detox is the only necessary thing for a drug addict or alcoholic to go through because of the dangers that come from withdrawal from alcohol and benzodiazepine. Heroin, cocaine, and meth are all drugs that don’t kill you if you try to come off of them.

Watered down, that is one word I hear a lot throughout the 12 step communities, and what I have been hearing and seeing is true. People who are not in a position to help because they do not have the power nor understanding of the 12 steps (ie spiritual and sane) are sponsoring other people who are lost and need guidance. That person might get the help they needed, and then they MIGHT pass it on to someone else. The message is weak, the message is diluted with lies and lesser, easier ways that are short cuts. The reward for this is exactly that: short. The real reward is in going through the whole process of the 12 steps and having a life changing spiritual experience that transforms the person from thinking and acting one way into another that is beyond and more powerful. What is the point of the 12 steps if you don’t change?

An example of what is happening to what used to be almost 100 percent successful in helping sick people recover completely as if they were “cured” is the Lord’s Prayer. At the end of the meeting everyone stands up and awkwardly holds hands with one another to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Our Father…blah blah blah it goes on with no feeling, just a chant that people can’t wait for it to end so they can stop holding the hands of someone else. One of the most powerful prayers is being overlooked and misunderstood or not understood at all.

Just look at the first two words of the prayer: OUR FATHER. When the people in the circle say that, how many actually put feeling behind it and feel the love that exists in those two words? Do you feel the brotherhood? The bonding? The fellowship uniting as a family because OUR FATHER is a loving, caring, benevolent power like the sun that shines on all of us? No matter who you are or what you have done? Most people rattle through the prayer like parrots and don’t get anything from it. It is just a shame because of what they are missing. Don’t shy away from God or fear God because of your past. Don’t water it down and reword it so it sounds less religious. Get over it. Or die.

Embrace God as your father, and open up to the possibility that regardless of how the world was created, there is a power out there and inside of you that is all good, all powerful, all loving, all about helping you reach your true place in life.

Strength

prison bars

The saying is

“Do your time,

Don’t let it do you.”

But imagine

Five years for something

You didn’t do

That’s the hell

I’m going through

You don’t want to believe

What I say is true

Regardless, I’m not sad or blue

I ask myself: “What can I do?”

Stay positive and better myself

I’ll make it through.

Jason B.

Taken from The Voice Inside

The End

BY ANONYMOUS AUTHOR

This was written a few weeks ago. After hearing that Philip Seymour Hoffman suffered from drug addiction to heroin, it seemed appropriate to share this story again, as it serves a purpose in keeping the awareness of the heroin epidemic alive. When will society stop denying that there is a big problem that is tearing apart our country? When will they stop judging the junkies and the alcoholics for who they really are: shining stars who are so bright they have to do drugs and drink to dim the light and just exist in a world that drives them away and pushes them to the edge. Jim Carey tweeted after hearing of his passing: “Dear Philip, a beautiful beautiful soul. For the most sensitive among us the noise can be too much. Bless your heart. ;^{”

 

The door is locked, he made sure of it, and he felt a small feeling of safety as he sat down on the white carpet of his bedroom. Safe and secure in his little cave of escape. It is as if he is in a trance. A candle is lit, the only light in the room, and the shadows dance around the posters, the trophies, the family photographs like black ghosts of the past. Around him lay an assortment of items, each in a certain place. His ritual will not have it any other way. He picks up the first item on the list. The preparation gives him this sickly sweet sensation that rumbles in his gut. His palms are sweaty. His heart begins to race.

He almost forgot one important ingredient in his recipe for escape…music.

He walks over the piles dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, water bottles, cd’s, books, notebooks filled with 10 years of diary entries since he was 13 when he first got high, to the stereo sitting under the window that is covered up completely with a blanket to block out the sunlight. He presses play and hears the familiar sounds slowly pour out of the speakers. The musical notes of the bass guitar give him goose-bumps, and for a tiny moment that he doesn’t even notice the music lifts his soul up out of the darkness it has been living in for 10 years.

Then the guitar strings flutter out and hit him in the chest. He closes his eyes and listens, and just for a few seconds his mind is clear with no manic thoughts and no terrorizing past.

We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time

He opens his eyes and remembers who he is, itches his arm and why he needs to do what he has to do. He walks back to the center of this room and sits down crosslegged as if he was going to meditate like a Buddhist monk. For a while he just stares at the flame from the candle as it dances to the beat of the drums, the stringing of sad chords, and that voice filled with pain.

And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

The ritual requires concentration and precise measurements. He feels that familiar urge overcome him. For a second he stops and wonders if there is any other solution. Any other way. Maybe he could change. He thinks of his family and how much he has put them through. It starts in the heart, the gut wrenching pain burns, and it spreads until nothing remains but total insanity because he would have to be crazy to not do this…thing.

Oooh…Oooh…
Oooh…Oooh…

He couldn’t hear the knocks on the door.

He couldn’t hear the banging and the screaming of his friend’s voice calling out his name.

He couldn’t see the door break open and see police and EMT’s enter his room.

He couldn’t watch his friend crumble in tears watching such a beautiful soul laying with a needle in his arm.

He couldn’t wake up.

 My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find
And yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can’t be my own
I’d feel better dead

Saint of Suicide

Angel 2

BY ANONYMOUS AUTHOR

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

“Ma you can’t say that to me and NOT tell me! Come on, out with it!”

“It’s Serenity…” My mother starts to tell me but then stops, and I can hear the pain in her voice. “She…killed herself.”

I am a million miles away laying down in a green field under blue skies and golden sunshine. There is a river there, moving gently but swift through the field into a dark forest. The sound of the water used to calm me, now all I hear is someone crying. A scream. A loud banging. Red lights. I am ripped away from the peace of nature and brought down to the cold concrete of reality.

“Danny?”

“Yes mom, I’m…I’m still here. I can’t believe it…she was doing good…she hadn’t been back to the hospital in years right? How did she do it?”

“Apparently she overdosed on her medication.”

I shut my eyes and clench my jaw tight. I grip the phone like a life raft, my knuckles turn white, my mind scrambles to find the right thoughts, but it all feels so pointless…life…what is the point?

“I know Danny, I know. I am so sorry. Her mother is hurting really bad. I cannot imagine what she is going through. Do you want her address, maybe you can write to her?”

“I have it. I will write a letter to her. God damn it what the—-!”

I almost slam the phone against the wall, but I hold back. No sense in getting in trouble.

“You know I love you, right Danny? You know that right? I love you so much!”

No emotions, no tears, nothing. Empty. Cold. Lifeless. Stuff it down to the deep dark depths where this will never see the light of awareness again.

“Yes mom, I love—-”

YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES REMAINING ON THIS CALL

Our conversation is interrupted by an ugly computerized voice telling us that we have to say goodbye. It cost 10 dollars for 30 measly minutes to call and talk to family and friends.

“I love you mom. I gotta go.”

“Hang in there kiddo, you are strong, stay strong and maybe talk to someone?”

“Yeah I will, thanks. Say hi to Dad for me okay?”

“I will, good—-”

CLICK

I hang up the phone and turn around to face the unit I live in. To my left is the basketball court. A heated game of hoop is going on which will probably end up with a lock down because of a fight over something stupid. I put my head down and walk, watching my Velcro shoes tap against the stained white linoleum tiles. I weave around the wist players throwing cards down like they were throwing down their lives. Past the Scrabble players trying to find the perfect word to win the 20 dollar pot that they bet. That is a lot of ramen noodle soups. I pass the zombies staring at the television screen watching another rerun of Two and a Half Men. I look around for the guard, he is at his desk using his smartphone. I keep moving. I reach the stairs and I climb them to the second tier and make my way to my home away from home. The one I am forced to live in for two and a half years for something I did not do. I fight back the rage that swells in my chest and threatens to consume me. I just grit my teeth and clench my fists until I reach my cell.

I hold my hand up signaling to the guard to crack my door so I can shut it. The loud crack lets me know I can lock myself in. I walk by the stainless steel mirror and stare at it for I don’t know how long. I just stare into my eyes and wonder. Who the hell are you? What have you become? Why are you here? When will I get out of here? Where is Serenity? Why did the only girl I have ever loved kill herself? Was it because I was in here? Was it because I couldn’t be there to help her? She had bi-polar numero uno, that means she was unstable and crazy right? I couldn’t help her! I tried. I tried so hard…but look at me, I’m in jail and she is in the ground, or in the morgue, frozen, cold, lifeless, empty…just like me. I am alive in a grave, at least now she can rest.

Serenity…

Your blonde hair. Your sweet smile. Your loving laugh. The feel of your body on mine. Your touch. Your voice, it was like an angel.

I wet my face. The cold water soothes my burning face.

I sit down on my bunk and put my face into my hands and just sit there in the solitude and silence. I cannot hear anything. All I hear is her. I picture Serenity in front of me. I almost believe it isn’t true, and that she is still alive. I try to imagine her laying on her bed…all alone…an empty bottle of Klonapin on the nightstand…her last moments…what was she thinking? Was she thinking of me?

My hands shake. My legs feel numb. Vision blurry. I slowly fall to the cold cement floor and curl up into a ball.

All I feel is…I cannot feel. No tears, no emotions, no feelings, only this emptiness.

This makes me feel worse. Why can’t I feel. I want to feel! I have spent my whole life running away from my feelings, and right now I just want to feel the pain. I want it to wash over me like the waves at the beach I used to go to as a child…

Serenity…

Where’d you go?

Please don’t leave me.

I love you.

I need you so much, and I’m so scared Serenity please…please…please…

Curled up in a ball all alone on the cold floor of a jail cell.

And then…my eyes are closed and all I see is white.

And then…the tears. Flooding my whole being is a tidal wave of feelings that I never got to feel.

I hold on to the vision of Serenity. I hold on to it as I convulse in pain. I can barely breathe…

Time did not exist, space was only in my body, and I cried and cried and screamed in pain.

And then…Serenity.

Angel 1

“Hope springs eternal”

When I sit up late at night like I am doing right now, tired, by myself staring at this brightly lit computer screen, thinking of what to write so I can become famous…nothing comes to my mind. Nothing worth writing about at least. I have many thoughts, ideas, and stories I could write on this blog and feel good about it like “Yes Sean! You are one hell of a clever chap all right!” Fuck all that.

I want to write shit that makes people nod their heads in understanding, or in sympathy, or feel it in their hearts that this? This is the truth and I want to read more of what this guy has to say because the words spoken have a certain power that reaches beyond the superficial mask of self and deep into the soul.

Stories of Hope?

How can I reach someone with a story of hope? What can I write to inspire, to motivate, to hold someone’s heart in my hand and carry it through whatever darkness is surrounding them?

The truth is all I have is my experience. Within my experience is one vital, concrete, foundational practice that I have found to work in even the most dire and sincerely scary moments of our lives when it seems the very gates of hell are being shut on us.

Think of a time in your life, and it shouldn’t be hard to remember it, that time when you were all alone in a place that nobody could reach you. This could have been a prison cell or in your own house surrounded by family, and I am talking about falling into a dark place not even your closest loved ones could bring you back from.

I have known a few people who found themselves in this proverbial place of blind, deaf, dumb, numb, and completely delusional mind states. The blind mind state cannot see the truth right in front of them. Deaf mind state does not heed the warnings of danger or ominous foreshadowing of death or destruction because it cannot hear. Dumb is the mind that makes those decisions which lead the person into pain and misery. Numb is the mind state that is not a state anymore, just a mess…a noisy, wild, crazy mess hidden underneath  a sheet of ice.

The delusional mind state is the worst and encompasses all of these defects in a circle of insanity. The people I knew loved life, and lived it in a different way but it was full of something, everything, and on the surface it looked beautiful. But somewhere along the line something snapped, a wire burned out and caused the system to shut down, short-circuited, haywire.

It happened to me, it happened to my sister, it happened to someone I loved perhaps the first person I ever felt love for…Summer.

Hope.

Is it just a four letter word that makes people feel better or is it a power beneath the surface of this life pushing and pulling matter forward and backward and sideways along the pathway of forward progress?

Why do some people embrace the word by continuing to live? Why do some people not see it and choose to use their hands as weapons on themselves? What went wrong? Why? What drove them to that point of no return where no human power could save them?

That is it right there. No human power. The truth. The spiritual part.

London to Brighton Veteran Car Run

Doctors, pills, blood tests, psychiatrists, asylums…is there hope in these things? Hope springs for a little while, but not eternal.

No, hope is much bigger than a pill or a psych doctor. If hope were a pill it would be made in meetings, in love, in spirit, in truth, in help from strangers, from the heart…not a pharma factory or a script pad…no, from something more than human power.

I am a story of hope.

You are a story of hope. Anyone who is still alive and living each day as it comes, especially after going through trauma, evil, and death around them? God is love and the love in me recognizes the love in you. I love you. Without you I could not exist, I am here today as a true testament to the power of love, because somebody loved me I am still breathing.

If I do anything in life, it is to honor those who did not make it through the day. Who decided to give up today. Who did not have any hope, who couldn’t see the sunshine outside only darkness and pain and a quick solution to end it.

People might blame God for such horrible tragedies, but I blame no one. We all have a will and a mind that can make decisions, and if we decide to do something bad it is our choice not God pulling the puppet strings.

One story is one life, a life I used to cherish and think about all the time and want to make better with me in it…did God let her take all of her klonapin and close her eyes permanently? Did he make her do it? She was just like you or me. Full of life, hope for a bright future, a laugh that lit up the room with love…no God wasn’t there because she shut the door on God, her mother, her friends, her loved ones that had God in them and wanted to help. She shut God out of that room, that lonely, dark, cold room that offered her the comfort of a warm bed and a pill bottle.

Story of hope?

We are all stories of hope.

It is not just a word or a force. No it is who were are.

It is life.

 

Basketball Star’s Rise and Fall

Flash of White Lightnin'!

Flash of White Lightnin’!

I was born in an affluent suburb of Providence. RI. And as I grew up, I realized I had potential that others did not have. As High School came to an end, I was on top! Girls loved my personality and I became the Basketball stud that had chances to possibly it make the pros. I had many scholarship offers, but I knew I could do better.

I went to a prominent Division II college in Florida where I was the second shortest kid on the team ( 6’3″) with a 41 in. vertical leap. But, I messed up my knee and never played there again. I began meaningless jobs to pay for the ridiculous tuition. I had no one to help me financially. The next year I left the institution because my partial-scholarship was revoked due to my nonperformance on the team.

I decided to go back into the restaurant business, which I knew  well. I got stuck in it for a while, too long…

Eventually the path I took brought me deeper and deeper into the abyss.

When I finally decided that the path I was on was a path of destruction of my dreams,

I said to myself I need to fix this and lead a productive life and stop making excuses to go back to the sadness that had been part of my life for far too many years. And the cold-turkey attempt didn’t work; my body was addicted to it. I needed to go to rehab to get my body physically off of the substance. It is a tough decision to make; but I weighed the pros and cons. That made the decision clear…

I want to make you feel safe. I want to make you think you’ll be fine with ‘luck’. But addictions are always honest.

So that is what the cure has to be. I’ve been there. I’ve been helpless. I have been depressed. I have been physically sick. I have been under control of addiction. I have been at the bottom of the hole only to look up and ask the same question you have asked yourself: how do I get out?

I never have been the one to fear the challenges life presented, but I was humbled by the force that took over me. The vicious vixen that made me happy for the short term, but then sad later on. Eventually, I needed the potion to counter-act the effects of not having it in my system. I took a long look in the mirror, then I found out that the cure comes down to one simple ingredient the we all possess but don’t always choose to use:

will-power.

Will-power is in direct correlation with confidence. Confidence is a virtue that every being ever to grace this planet with their presence has had. Humans have been spoiled for centuries by the advancement of our developing brain and now have wild ideas milling around in our heads; warped expectations. Think of your life up until now. What did you expect life to be. Is it realistic? Maybe. But you’re here now, and that’s much further away than you expected.

Guns can kill people. Do you wake up each day and think of a way to get a gun and place it to your head then pull the trigger? No. Do you ever think of licking your finger and sticking it in an electrical socket? No.  Maybe jumping out of a perfectly good airplane with no parachute? No. Ever think of injecting your self with arsenic? No. Ever think what harm that your choosing to do to your self can do? What about to your family and friends? Have you ever thought: what if I never let this garbage take victory over me?

You’re not weak; that is what you don’t understand. The toughest step is the one right in front of you: today. Forget about what happened yesterday because you cannot change that, but you can change the outlook for tomorrow.

And you can do it TODAY. So, go look in the mirror, look into your eyes for that power that you have and slay your dragon. It will be a rough journey, no doubt. To be brutally honest, your actions got you here and it will be your actions that get you out. So, stop finding reasons to harbor your addiction, and start looking for reasons to oust it.

But there is a bombshell of optimism I have for you; there is a way out… YOU.

Just For Tomorrow

Just For Tomorrow…

I will be happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that  “Most folks are as happy as they make up there minds to be.” And we all know Lincoln was a smart guy, he had to be or how else did he not manage to be killed for such a long time?

Just For Tomorrow…’

I will exercise my soul in three ways: I will do something nice for someone and not tell them about it. I will try to smile through the pain and as I listen to songs like Audioslave for some reason Cornell’s voice hits a heartstring and plays that thing like a fiddle. The last exercise I will try to give someone who is not doing as good as me compassion. These strengthen the soul and give it power to help others.

Just For Tomorrow…

I will be unafraid because with the truth there is no fear.

rawforbeauty.com

rawforbeauty.com

I pray that death comes quick

The only hope I have

In this life I live.

Through it all – the institutions, jails, and meeting halls –

One truth I have avoided and every time I fall.

The Love has left me

Inside I am dead and empty

After running for so long

I can’t stand my legs, so heavy.

Around me is a loving family

Inflicted with pain

From my insanity

The truth is in front of me…

But this soul is blind, it cannot see.

When you ask for love

Say please!