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

I’m a good person.

Forgetting modesty for just a minute, I want people to be happy, if there’s a way to help someone I will, and I try to put the needs of other before mind. Sometimes my good intentions can stray from where they should be, but then again so can every ones. I tell the truth when it matters most, I don’t do drugs, I don’t drink, or smoke.

I know what hard work is, and unlike a lot of people I know, most the time I would choose that over the easy out. I grew up in a place where I never heard the words I’m proud of you. I grew up in a place where the words I love you only came after things like “Okay it’s time to go into surgery.”. (I tried to come up with another example, but I couldn’t find one.)

The place I grew up was hard, strict, and unforgiving. I don’t say all this for sympathy, or for pity, because no one benefits from either of those things. As I write these words I remember things that I have said to people for years after telling them the stories of unfairness at my “home”. (Yes notice the “”).

I do know that the people that raised me raised me right, and the person I am today is a lot because of them. In way I would like to thank them, because, as sad as it may sound, it taught me who I should not be. It taught me the different between wrong in right. Examples: 1.Kicking out their 18yr old, because she slept over her friends house after them saying no? -that is wrong.

2.Trying to push them to wear certain clothes, by insulting them? -wrong.

3.Threatening to take away everything, because they don’t want to go to church? -wrong. 4.Giving one of their kids piano lessons, but not giving the other one guitar? -wrong The way I see it: 1.Communication at a very early age is very, very important. 2.Who cares?

4.You can’t force religion on someone.

5.Be fair. Anyone reading this could say that I’m being stupid, and hey I might be, but when you see that you’re being treated unfairly especially from the ones you want to make proud, it’s hard.

When all you want to to be told you did well, even if you know you did, it kills you slowly to realize it’s a losing battle.

~Hayley Fray

There Will Come a Time

When no human power will stop you from doing this one thing…you are powerless over it and I can tell you now that your mind will not think so. Your mind is the ruler of your life and unfortunately it will lead you down the wrong road to pain, suffering, and our good friend misery.

Listen to your thoughts…

What do they smell like? Some thoughts stink of negativity and fear, and leave you with a sour taste in your mouth. We as humans do not understand our own thoughts and where they come from. But once a thought comes in, it is how we deal with it that matters, how we act out the thought is the crux of all behavior.

Everything begins with one single thought.

Say a thought comes in to your head that is so completely crazy, yet legitimate and almost reasonable that you consider it, you play with it, you entertain it.

For example: you just got out of jail after serving a year for getting high on drugs…

And a week after you are out…the same thought that came into your head that got you into trouble in the first place reappears. At first you dismiss it like a bug, but it keeps coming back and landing on your consciousness…

You know in your rational mind that to do drugs again is pure suicide and will probably end in either jail or death, if you’re lucky.

Yet something is not right inside. You spent the whole year playing cards, playing ball, and working out. Not to mention many many many lonely nights masturbating to pictures in maxim and curves…nothing really changed you are still the same person who went into jail a year earlier…just another year older…inside you are carry the weight and load of resentment and rage born out of a traumatized childhood…but it went undiagnosed and there you stand at the crossroads for the thousandth time.

All it takes is a decision.

The fear can seem so real and the lies so convincing that it looks impossible to not take something into your body to escape the demons hunting your peace and hunting your sanity…

You keep imagining that drug and how it will make you feel, that rush, that sweet release….

Then God gets tired of helping you and realizes you are not ready to serve the good army and help others….which is why we are all here…

Try again next life…

.

Fallen Heroes’ Rest

For Lt. Edward J. Walsh and Michael Kennedy, thank you for the sacrifice you made on that last alarm call. We are forever in your debt. God bless their souls and sincere condolences to the families of Walsh and Kennedy. God be with you to the injured fire fighters in the hospital recovering from the back-draft…may you overcome this challenge and live to laugh another day. God bless your souls.

To ease the suffering of those who lost someone they loved in a fire that was too strong for them, we bow our heads and pray for the pain to be relieved, imagining the situation and realizing that hope can be found in the worst of places.

Even in the grave, some places reveal more than just grief and sadness at the idea that our loved on is physically gone forever. We send you love from our hearts as we give love to our kids and our mothers and father.

We love a little bit stronger because of these tragedies. It is like a pendulum swinging back and forth, from peace to gut wrenching pain that tears you apart inside. I have felt that pain, although different circumstances.

We send you this letter because we want you to know that you are not alone, and that the community of good people watched the news and cried, and the community being the brotherhood of good that it says it is, ran to action and we not only send love and prayers but stories, and poetry, and expression of suffering through any form of art…

And the healing begins…

For the two souls whose bodies were overcome by flames and smoke in the Back Bay of the great city of Boston, my home forever…

We are here for you.

 

 

Circle of Love

He walks alone in the morning sun feeling the sand beneath his feet as he trudges onward, forward, continuos one step after another towards an unknown fate. He trudges. And trudges, legs heavy with regret and anger, head light with thoughts of giving up. What drives this sorry excuse for a human being on his last chance to do the right thing? What motivates him? Why does he continue to get back up after every fall…and he falls hard.

Up ahead in the distance is a group of people, strangers to him, sitting around in a circle.

He watches his feet sink into the sand after each step, approaching this group of men and women as if he knew them all along. He takes a seat in the sand outside the circle and says a modest hello to no one and anyone who cared. Immediately he feels a change coming over him, something is changing what it is he has no clue.

The outside world did not exist anymore.

All that mattered was the moment and how it was shared with one another. Who were these interesting and different characters wearing bathing suits and sunglasses?

These were members of a secret cult. One of the nicest and most welcoming cults too.

For the first time all day, perhaps all week, he shut up and listened. This was amazing to his friends, who judged him or didn’t care why he went to this cult.

In this cult he sits on the sand in a nice beach, in the morning, while people on vacation walk by and look. He listens to another persons life and experience told through voices he recognizes as being good people, good souls. To him the meeting is a form of meditation. His mind never stops tormenting him with a constant onslaught of thoughts. This is how he changes from a bad person who hurts others to someone who has a heart of love and gives it to others.

The world around us is growing dark with shadows and if you don’t believe in demons then you have been fortunate enough to not meet one! Watch the news for 10 minutes and you will see suffering and pain, and no answers!

The answer is in changing from within. Why do you we still scratch at the surface with our opinions and our titles of expertise? When has that solved those problems? Yet when something tragic happens like a plane crash or a mudslide that instantly kills hundreds and rips away our friends and family…what does the authority do? Camera mobs stalk and harass the privacy of these hurting and grieving people who are so fragile yet we as a collective society don’t even talk about it…maybe between the audience but overall the problem only worsens and we all suffer.

Until one of us changes within and begins to express that change to his community! Calling all superheroes where are the good guys?

Help one another, and stick up for your neighbor, get to know one another…because when it comes down to it, we are only worth the amount we help others…not a bank balance or popularity or number of twitter followers…get real!

He raises his hand in the silence of the circle, and a woman sitting directly across from him noticed the man on the outside and pointed her finger indicating he could speak.

The circle was focused on this young man in his twenties who began with his name in a Boston accent. Slow and deliberate he tells everyone he is new to the area, and doesn’t know anyone. He talks how alone he feels in the battle against evil and the negative things in life like addiction and other disorders. How hard it is to keep positive during times when suicide seems the only option! He tells this group of strangers where he is from, and what his life was like, and how he changed from a bad person into a good person. He speaks in a voice that rises in confidence as he goes on connecting with the circle.

He notices men and women nodding their heads once in a while, and he notices them actually listening to what he says.

He describes how his world is so misunderstood and so lost in confusion and ignorance. He tells the group that he needs help, and he tells them why: so he can get back to what he loves in life!

He doesn’t come to this meeting because he is an alcoholic, he comes to this meeting because he needs to connect with other people, and share the pain that is inside of him.

He tells the truth, and he listens to others express themselves through self-analysis and introspection. Half way through the meeting he feels different compared to at the beginning when he sat down in the sand outside of the circle.

He is just like me and you, a regular guy, who cannot be himself without first finding what that self is and looks like.

The meeting lasts an hour and everyone seems to stand up on cue. The strangers look to their left and right and grab the hands extended to them. The circle is now connected by human links, and the energy is pure love and healing power that exists in the middle of the circle.

As people walking by on the beach stare at this strange event happening right in front of them, the circle recites the Lords Prayer in unison.

This is what happens at an AA meeting, that stands for Alcoholics Anonymous, and it is the greatest movement that is still saving lives of hopeless addicts across the world!

The thing is? These meetings are for everyone. And they are secret and anonymous, so people walk right by because they weren’t invited!

Bill Wilson is the founder, and in the book of AA he says that one day…this 12 step process could help everyone, not just addicts.

Time to open up our doors and show the churches what spirituality is!

>

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.

 

And So It Goes

It was another day.

Nothing unique about it. I woke up around 1:00pm alone as I usually did, went downstairs to take my morning piss and asses the situation. I was almost out of booze but I still had some weed. Plus I had a pocket full of cash my girl gave to me the night before. A few hundred bucks in soaked and wrinkled in sweat, mostly one dollar bills. I had gotten used to it and so had all the local merchants I frequented. It all spends the same I suppose. Besides, how could I be upset? After all I was her best customer when we met. Ah well, I digress.

Time to see who is out there.

My cousin and his girl are still passed out in the other room and everyone else works…except Steve! Good ole Steve. He is always ready to party. I grab the keys to my jeep and head to the Cape to collect the boy. After finding him at his parents house having just woke up himself, we torched a bowl of my finest herb and cranked some TOOL and headed down the power lines for an off road adventure.

After a couple of stops to smoke more weed and finish off last night’s tequila we decided the bar was in our future. I brought Steve to his truck so we could race each other to Plymouth. His was the faster rig but I am the more aggressive driver and I take more risks.

Before the night ended we were kicked out of over five bars and one family restaurant for being “obscene”.

Steve sat shotgun as we left his truck at the first bar, and now he was hanging out my passenger window screaming “fuck you” and flipping the double bird to anyone including a family and I turned my MVD tires into a cloud of smoke. I don’t remember the drive, just the music. Marilyn Manson’s Anti-Christ Superstar album cranked as loud as it could possibly go.

I must have had God on my side that night.

We made it to my place without incident or accident. We had to hold each other up in order to walk(stumble) and slurred the lyrics to “Follow the Reaper” as we made our triumphant return. When we opened the door we saw my cousin wearing an empty 12 pack on his head, next to his girl and a beeramyd of epic proportions on the coffee table.

Steve and I looked at them and then at each other, we both smiled, and then we simultaneously pinched each other in the face. Both of our noses were instantly broken and bloody before the battle even commenced. I remember my cousins girl screaming and my cousin kept trying to stop us. But we were target fixated on each other. Both looking for a knock-out. At one point he even threatened to “jump in” if we didn’t stop. We paused just long enough to point and laugh at him and continued to fight.

By  the time we stopped, blood was on every floor and wall.

Both of us were spent and needed sleep with buckets for the blood and vomit. Somehow Steve made it home safe and sound. We are still as close as brothers. Today we get a laugh out of the memories of our crazy past.

But we are also reminded of how lucky we both are. We have both suffered greatly in this life having similar demons feasting on our sanity. However, we both strive to recover. I can now remember most of the things I do and I pray daily.I am thankful that all of my personal stories end without death. Though I cannot say the same for my fallen brothers. I’ve lost 2 close friends to this illness in the last 6 months and another was in a coma for 90 days and suffers from permanent brain damage.

I am 30 years old but my body feels like I am middle aged. I am optimistic, and I am blessed with two beautiful sons and we are all in decent health. Life is worth living if for no other reason than love. Even the hope of a possible future love is worth striving for. I am not perfect and I will make many mistakes, but I no longer live in a self-destructive state of mind. This thing called “addiction” or “alcoholism” is trying to kill us as it lies to us with its false comfort and convinces us everything will be fine.

That’s not real life! Real life hurts sometimes and things are not always pretty. But if I try to kill the pain and suffering with drugs and booze the relief is only temporary and returns with vengeance seven-fold. The only thing it truly kills is hope and love. If you find yourself feeling hopeless, please reach out and scream for help. God shows you love and understanding through another suffering and recovering addict, or anyone who has been through something traumatic.

We are out there and we are here to help.

We love you.

“Anonymous”

 

 

 

Jesus Teaching

Jesus explains what the nature of God is, and what our own nature is; tells us the meaning of life and of death; shows us why we make mistakes; why we yield to temptation; why we become sick, and impoverished, and old; and, most important of all, he tells us how these evils may be overcome, and how we may bring fulfillment into our lives, and into the lives of others.

Jesus warns us, not once but often, that obstinacy in sin can bring very severe punishment, and that a man who parts with the integrity of his soul – even though he gain the world – is a tragic fool. But he teaches that we are only punished for – and actually punished by – our own mistakes; and he teaches that every man or woman, no matter how steeped in evil and uncleanness, has always direct access to an all-loving, all-powerful Father-God, who will forgive him, and supply His own strength to him to enable him to find himself again.

if ye know that he is righteous, ye know that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him(1 John 2:29)

Over the past few years I have been getting closer to this power everyone calls God. A part of God is this image of Jesus and his likeness: love and service. As I live each day to help someone else out there in the world, I see how Jesus never died. He is an archetype, a group of ideas and principles, that I am forever striving to perfect. The closer I get to perfection, the closer I get to you, and finding myself in the process.

When I shake your hand and meet you, and talk with you, and connect…I am meeting not just a human being, but also a focal point of God. I am meeting a potential Jesus, depending on the amount of love they have and if they give it to others.

All my life I searched for answers in anything that gave me a feeling of love. Even if that feeling was temporary and fleeting. The shortest paths to love are the most destructive in the long run. I am still picking up pieces of wreckage from the past. I meet fellow spirits who are doing the same.

We seek refuge in the safety of our souls. We find comfort in the love we give to one another. We survive each day by talking, listening, and relating to one another through stories and expression of words.

As one child of a Vietnam veteran said, whose father was saved by opening up and talking…”Just talking and listening, writing down your story, it can mean life or death.”

To all of my friends,

I love you.

Email andsoitgoesmag@gmail.com to tell your story…and save not just your life but the life of someone else who needs help!

What Are Angels For?

As they sat there talking on Facebook like two giggling gals from down South, nothing really mattered except a properly placed LOL and maybe a smiley face with that seductive little wink. Nothing mattered because nothing existed outside of that computer screen. Life to them was about checking messages, liking things, and commenting on anything and everything the girls felt really, truly mattered.

O the lack of HUMANITY!

Until their next door neighbor was invaded by an evil army of masked men with guns…

“The victims said the gunmen were ‘nice’…” about the whole duct taping them to the bed and chair, stealing money and jewelry from them!

Only then did they look up from their computers with scared little innocent teen girl faces and realized something…they didn’t know what to do. But they would never tell you that and admit they were wrong! No, they delete the message and move on as if nothing ever happened.

But something did happen. Our neighbor was attacked, tied up with duct tape, and robbed at gunpoint by masked men. They will not find them, because they are professionals, and they are already ahead of you on that one. So what does a community do when things like this happen? What is the strategy to cope, to defend, to protect the civilians?

It happened in a gated community! Apparently these places are an illusion of safety compared to regular divisions. But what if it was an inside job, and the landscape workers or guards or internal personnel were in on it? Hypothetically speaking, and we can speak freely if it is to help the people that were robbed, and ensure the safety of the people who are laying in the open.

In the event of an emergency situation, most people are clueless and are left to fend for themselves against a threat that is unknown. Are we to let these robberies and home invasions conquer us to the point of submission in FEAR? Especially since there are so many ex-soldiers waiting for a chance to do their job: protect the people such as their families, their friends and loved ones, and the country!

Since they have no direction when they return from active duty in the Middle East, young veterans turn to drugs, drinking, and ultimately suicide just to escape what they saw in combat. Yet what is each community doing about it? We have become so bloody numb to what and who is around us: they are just like you! It is like a brain without any connection to the body and the functions, so it just sits around and thinks of things that it won’t do.

I bet if you woke up a captain in the military from World War II, like my grandfather, from the grave and asked him what he thought of our country today…

Shamefaced and annoyed at the younger generations inability to come together and fight for a country he fought for and lived to create my family, my mother his daughter, and so it goes…

WHAT ARE ANGELS FOR?

When life becomes consumed by fear, there is no telling what will happen, since fear is evil and evil knows hell. Do you know it? It is in not being able to sleep again for weeks after being tied up and had a gun pointed at your head. Have you ever been in that situation? It is interesting. All of what you know and who you are as a person just fades away and you are left with two options: live or die. That is the choice the gun is forcing on your life, and it is up to the finger on the trigger to decide which one is correct.

Where there is evil there is the force of good which is the only force, as this is what people come back to when they return from a dance with the devil. It is the constant, the silence, and evil is a noise in the night. It comes, and it goes. What remains is your true self, and the soul that guides it. If you know how to pray, then pray for the families who were forced to watch gunmen take the wedding rings of the parents and rummage through their home.

What is going on? This was the first time a home was invaded in 9 years, according to official NBC-2 news coverage, and now there have been two total home invasions. These crimes are done by the dirtiest criminals, you know the type, the sociopathic and the desperate. Then ask if the police are able to protect you when they come onto your property. It takes at least 5 to 10 minutes if they are nearby for them to come to your aid. They are a good option when you only have one, but how can protect and defend your home without a gun?

Who is going to help them?

It is the angels of good that can guide people to help in ways that have not been seen too much around here. Ways like getting to know your neighbor and offering your help in case anything happens like a home invasion. Ways like looking out for one another instead of just looking out for ourselves. Protect your family, protect your neighbor, protect yourself.  If they come in with guns, unless you are Chuck Norris in a karate film, just do what they say.

As a victim of home invasion, I know the fear that can change the way you act. I felt the gun muzzle on my temple, and there was nothing I could do but stare off and pray.

God be with all of you!

 

 

 

Overdose of Reality

2nd-Annual-Gloucester-MA.-Overdose-Vigil-luminaries-2012Photograph from overdoseday.com, 2nd Annual Gloucester, MA Overdose vigil of luminaries, 2012

The last time Susan Cyr saw her son Eric alive, he was dressed for a job interview and asking which cologne he should wear “because he wanted to smell right.”

When the 32-year-old did not return home, his mother enlisted a friend to help scour Raynham and Taunton for her son. The police found him the next day in the parking lot of a Taunton CVS, his body slumped in his mother’s Toyota Camry.

“That day he left my house, he was my wonderful son. He was happy, very energetic, talking about going to college again,” Cyr said. “He wasn’t expecting to die.”

Heroin, laced with the drug Fentanyl, killed him five weeks ago, his mother said.

This was taken from an article in the Boston Globe and is available at this link right here: Heroin Capital of the United States

CAST THY BURDEN

Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved (Psalm 55:22)

We sometimes hear the expression used, “cast the burden”, and it is useful to consider what this phrase really means. Used intelligently, it is one of the great keys to spiritual victory. To cast the burden means to really insist upon harmony and peace of mind, and to cease from worry and anxiety there and then.

If, when faced with trouble, whether it be old or new, you can affirm positively the harmony of being and then refuse to reopen the case, no matter how much fear may urge you to do so, you have cast your burden upon the Lord, and you will win.

-From Essay by Emmet Fox “Cast Thy Burden”

“You are a signal, a messenger who lives the message, who embodies the meaning of the holy in every choice you make. You are a healer, a source of nurture and wholeness, here for a reason, a reason that restores the bridge of hope.”

Letter by Anonymous

I have to start off by qualifying for some good pain and expressing grief stuffed so far down, it seeps out slowly into my heart and my soul…it is an intense physical sensation that grabs my whole being and shakes it a little. I tend be poetic when writing about it, and by relating to someone else being ripped away from you by drugs…it helps heal that pain and grief.

For 10 years I visited all those places on earth that I saw in movies and read about in books. I hated the way I looked, hated the way it that made me feel, but if one thing was certain in a very uncertain life, it was the need to be free and to find something real.
It started with a joint of marijuana that I was so ignorant about, I didn’t even inhale at first. Then it went to having a couple beers. Then shots of liquor. On and on and so it goes to the next form or “freedom”. I wanted freedom for the simple fact that I lived in a good family and I felt so unloved and I just couldn’t exist without some sort of silence or fight amongst us. I snuck out, and stayed out, and I learned really fast the damage done by the endless, infinite obsession around me. Sister is not around she is at college down South. Mother and father play a role not unlike two policemen and guess who the runaway prisoner.was?
I was prisoner of my own soul, and I paid my own ticket thank you very much. I want to thank Heroin for being such thief. You don’t even wait til it gets dark, because dope never sleeps and while my mother waited at home I was searching for a fix that would make me feel less crazy, psycho alone.
To sum up the beginning of my life and the world I knew in New England: pain and anger from fear and lies ruled me like a crazy king. 10 years was how long it took me to get to a point in my life where the past no longer haunted me like a demonic ghost. I traveled in different circles as an covert agent moves on a mission to find the truth. Deep down was the idea that one day I would be okay, but the reality of it was that I had to walk my own way out of everyday hell. Waking up with a sickness that won’t let go not for a second, and seeped in such a saturated brain soaking in brown syrup I doubted I would ever see a happy joyous free day again. Not like those untouchable memories that are sunny, in the backyard playing catch or shooting supersoakers, a happy family you can tell by the smiles, now only photographs placed in spiritual books.
The Boston Globe reporter was not an addict, and therefore does not know the truth in matters involving a serious, life-or-death disease that is bigger than any cancer known to mankind. How is that possible? The truth is in the numbers of deaths involving drugs and alcohol from a disease that is so powerful it can kill families. A big percentage of the people in our country are involved with this disease. Alcoholism was first compared to cancer, noticing the contrast in responses to someone who has cancer compared to someone who has a cancer of the brain, of the mind.
When someone has cancer they are compassionate, loving, and either sympathetic or empathetic to what they are going through. Not so much with the junkie, or addict -and addict means alcoholics too – since the addict usually hurts those around him before anyone ever realizes he has a disease. The ignorance surrounding addiction today is astounding. With all the treatment centers in Massachusetts, and all the options available, there is still a negative perception of anything involving the words heroin, cocaine, crystal meth, bath salts, fentanyl, percocet, oxycontin, benzo’s, any pill that ends in pam, the list goes on ad infinitum but what should be recognized most importantly is the fact that more young kids and fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, are getting ripped away from us.
Ups and downs came and trouble went like the wind in the trees and breeze through your hair. That soft and seductive whisper as it rushes by your ear drums. Such a beautiful life I have lived to this day. Even now, as I sit in the shade from the angry sun shining and setting the afternoon ablaze.
The fire inside is burning live and well enough to finally be of service to others who need a hand to hold, or a hug, or a couple bucks for some gas, or maybe help through school, or maybe it is JUST LOVE!

Where there is shadow, may I bring light