Tag Archive: magic


Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live.” ― Nora Roberts

So come with me and take my hand and hold it tight, lets allow the stars to be our guides tonight,  taking us through all the things we’ve lost along the way before tonight. Where we’ll walk with me through starlit libraries and catch fireflies in big glass jars and dance like fools beneath the pale moonlight, in a meadow full of wild flowers where no two blooms are ever alike, let go of your worries, your discontent, instead remember what it was like to really laugh, to smile until it hurts, just let go and just enjoy the now. Let’s reignite that fires and the passions we lost we were kids and truer to ourselves. Back when we chased each other in the night, playing hide and seek with our friends in the dark.

So let’s denounce all the lies we’ve told ourselves and let’s rejoice and share secrets in the dark, let’s tell stories that will create a spark and let our imaginations run rampant and wild without constraints.

 Let’s take a moment to slow down, unplug and unwind, turn off the T.V. Put away the phone and lock it away in your nightstand and get up from the computer and go outside. Sit around a campfire with family or friends and share your stories and all the laughter and tears that live there as you connect. Let’s forgive past wrongs, let the past die and just forgive and let live.
Take a long bike ride, and let the wind whip against your skin and through your hair as you pedal and race faster than you ever before dared, feeling your pulse quicken with exhilaration as you live, really live, remember what it was like being a kid and not be so weighed down by all the burdens and past sins.Let’s forgive ourselves and start life anew. Ask yourself what eight year old you would think of you, the twelve year old you and you at sixteen, would advice would that younger you tell you? Let’s speak honestly, with strength, conviction, love and understanding. Let’s change everything and change ourselves and just disconnect from all the computer screens and cellphones and let’s talk to people like all the adults did when we were kids, when everyone in the neighborhood were their friends.
Remember how our bicycle’s warm golden eye would  protect us from the world of responsibilities and hostilities. Remember that feeling of the cool crisp wind blowing through your hair as you rode like the wind, believing your childhood would never end, feeling free, with limitless possibilities and dreams whirling around inside your head, before you were told to grow up and act your age? Let’s write stories of princesses living in white marble castles and of the heroes who come and save them from the old and mundane before we all go insane, and let’s remember the magic we once had and held oh so dear and always believed in with all our heart and souls before we’ve been showed and told all of the magician’s tricks, forever robbing us of that sense of wonder and disbelief we held so dear.
Remember the magic we were born into, even me despite all the struggles I had growing up in a broken home, with an abusive mother and the bullies that waited for me every day at school, who never let me escape their sight. Despite how many times I was knocked down, or how often I felt like I was just losing the fight, I always kept getting back up and I always kept my hope alive. I let my light burn and never hid it from sight. I still lived in fear that one day I would wake up and find that my friends were no longer there, a thought that was almost too much for me to bear. But even with all this and having only a small handful of friends that got me through high school, I can still tell you that I grew up in a magic time and was raised in a magic towns, amongst sorcerers, wizards, wicked witches and genies eager to grant my every wish. I saw this world that no one else could see and I thought it was funny how no one but me could see it or how we were all connected, ensnared and captured into in the silver filaments of this magic web. Weaved by the dueling spiders of chance and circumstance, knowing that everything and everyone mattered, it was my biggest secret, one that I’ve always known, one that I kept all to myself until now.
 I was seven when the world revealed itself to me, I saw magic in all things, I was five when I was sitting in my living room, with the tacky golden couches when I first tried touching magic for the very first time, attempting to make a quarter vanish and disappear from my tiny closed hand. I was certain if I concentrated hard enough, focused enough, I would open my hand to discover I had somehow manged to make it vanish I saw many magicians do. It didn’t matter how many times I would open my fist to find the quarter still there, because I could feel it, I knew the magic was around me and in the air and I could see all new beginnings, the present and the future and this story’s ending. I saw myself in ways I can never describe and I saw the simple truth in all things. You probably did once too; but you just don’t remember, or maybe you do, but you just forgotten.
See, this is my opinion; we all start out knowing magic, believing a blanket tied around our shoulders can make us fly and by night our blankets would protect us from the monsters that lurked in our closest,  under our beds and in the dark. We had this world inside of us, where a stranger could become one of our best friends, we believed and had faith in people and we all lived and understood  what it meant when the floor was lava and kiss could heal any hurt and we lived with no fear and we looked at people and just saw people, we didn’t discriminate, or hate someone because they were different than us, we accepted them, as they were and we eager to talk and get to know them. But we get the magic, the love and the wonder educated right out of our souls, we get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get told what to believe and even how to pray and when I was a kid, I would talk to God all the time and I would speak to him as I would a friend, like I would speak to you now. But we get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age, to grow up and to take off our magic capes and to stop stomping through the yard like we’re dinosaurs on parade and to put all our childish things away.

 And do you know why we’re told all this? Because the people doing the telling are afraid of our wildness and our youth, and because the magic we grow up knowing makes them feel scared, ashamed and a little sad of what they’d allowed to wither and die within themselves. Because after you get so far from it, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it, moments of knowing and remembering. Whenever you watch children at play and marvel at their imagination, when you’re outside and hear their laughter and remember when you used to laugh so hard while sitting in class and the more you tried to quiet yourself the harder you would laugh and even though you got in trouble you wouldn’t want it to have happened in any other way.

You feel it when you‘re watching a movie and find tears welling up in your eyes and it’s because in that darken theater, when the lights are down, that your disbelief is suspended for a few minutes or hours, you find yourself immersed once again in that golden pool of magic that dwells and swirls around in your heart, when you feel like anything is possible and when you touch it, you become filled with that same sense of wonder and mystery that you’ve always known, then you’re young again, with your imagination filling up and you find you still have hope an you still believe. When we were kids, we dreamed of changing the world, or saving it from all the wrong we’ve seen. Like the times you’ve witnessed someone being singled out, harassed, or discriminated against and you wanted to do something, but instead you hesitate too long, you over analyze, it’s like when you leave a darken theater after watching a good movie and your imagination runs wild and you’re still carrying those feelings it stirred up within your soul, until the lights come on and you step out into the hard sun and you fall back into a world of logic and reason all over again. Which further dries up that pool of magic within our souls. So when you see or witness adversity you shove your hands in your pockets and walk away, wondering what you could have done, believing it would work itself out in the end, telling yourself all the things you wished you would have said or done, as you walk further and further away to never see them again.

Which always leaves you wanting and a little heart sad, for you can never fully understand why this is. It happens all the time, when a song stirs the distant memory of young love and the future you thought was so certain, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a distant train passing in the night and you wonder where it might be going and what it would be like to ride its rails at least one time. It happens when you hear a piano playing softly and you become lost in the endless depths remembering what was lost and forgotten. It’s that time when you step up and beyond who you are and away from where you had been, it’s then that for the briefest of moments that you find yourself back in that magic realm, feeling like you did back when you were ten.

I know it’s hard and there are days when you feel like you’re miles away, spending a whole December hoping things will go your way and I stand here today, wearing my heart on my sleeve, telling you all the things that I believe and truth is every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, and some not. Things happen to us all the time, with hurdles we think we’ll never get over, or get by and for me it was my mother, High school, and then came the real trials of stepping out into real world, getting my first job, losing what was once my home, saying good my to good friends, wondering if I’ll ever see some of them again. But no matter where they went, to Afghanistan to fight in a war, or to warm beaches to relax under the sun, or suffering behind a desk in a day job that they hate, a part of me will always be with them, just as I will always carry a part of them with me. Some went on to become heroes while others just became lost.

But things change all the time, while some never do. And the truth is, life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, even when you fall in love honestly, for the world can still be a very mean, dark and nasty place and no matter how strong or tough you think you are, it will beat you to your knees just like it had me, the first time I fell in love and lost on the battlefield of love. Then when I found love again and once more I found I was one of two choices, but then I chose another path and simply walked away without word or argument. Believing if was meant for me, she would find me again, or chase after me.

My head was left bloody but unbowed. Yet I still loved her, didn’t want to see her hurt, didn’t want to cause her any pain or drama, I simply walked away.

I was broken and on my knees, knowing life would keep me there if I let it and that was a guarantee. So no matter what happens, take it from me, you can’t ever quit and you have to fight like hell to keep that light within you alive even when the whole world feels like it’s against you, you must always strive to press on to something more and never quit, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how sore. Learn to love what you got and not the things that you’re not. You can choose life and look up, or continue being a victim or whatever else it is you want to be. Or you can press on to something more, because if you call it quits and simply give up on live, you’ll never knowing how close you came to getting past those hurdles, to finding solace in a moment, when peace finds you while you’re walking barefoot through the grass with a pretty girl

And me…I just want to write, to change the world with my words and get people to read again, to discover the magic in the written word, that magic that has been buried in the hidden depths of in the soul of my readers. To remind them that your life is a story, and some chapters end, while others are just beginning, so if you ever think of ending your story prematurely, you’re robbing yourself and of those around you of the story of you and you’ll never see how things would turn out, or how it was meant to be. Remember that no matter where you are in the story, that the best ones have the hardest beginnings, and the happiest of endings. , because no one will ever hit you as hard as life can and will, but it isn’t about how hard you get hit, or how many times life keeps knocking you down, it’s about how many times you keep getting back up, keep moving forward; how much you take and keep placing one foot in front of the other, knowing the battles you’ll fight will be hard and that no one ever said it’ll be easy, but no matter what happens, or how many times you keep getting knocked down, never stop getting back up. And don’t forget that person you set out to be. Don’t get lost in stark and the mundane, instead look up and keep moving forward unto the dawn. Until you discover that the reward is a life well lived and realize it’s been made all the sweeter because you experienced the sour. So when your journey finally winds down and you look back, you’ll remember the lessons you’ve learned and finally see how far you come.  Discover that by weathering the storm, you have become a little stronger, wiser and just better for having just lived through it. You’re a survivor, a fighter and you’re everything you wanted to be and more.

So yes you may lose your heart’s desire along the way, which can be most tragic, but you can also find it and there is no greater joy than rediscovering who you are and you’ll be surprised where you go and just how far you’re capable of going. Yes, accidents will happen along the course, you may lose your way, which can be frightening if you let it, or you can embark on an all new journey of discovery until you find your way back home, and home is wherever there is someone who thinks and cares about you.So no matter where life takes you, always stay true and always be you, because this world is filled with its crazy mazes, obscene obstacles, and flashing lights all meant to confuse you, to test us, distract us and derail us from the very thing we set out to do.

 

Life and the adults of this world always seem to be in such hurry to grow up, to be professional, and successful, they forget to take time for themselves, to stop and smell the roses, to indulge their lost inner child. So they do their best to take our innocence and the essence of magic away from us, to make us just like every one of them, a person who never looks up, but always down, and always with that sad frown. Of course you never know it, until one day you realize you’ve lost something and you’re not sure what it is. It’s like being in a grocery store and smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” for the first time. It just happens.

These memories of who I was and where I’ve been are important to me, just as yours should be to you. They make up a large part of who you’re going to be once your journey winds down. I don’t want to be the person my parents wanted me to be. I want to write, inspire and be free. I love my father but he’s not the kind of person I want to be, because I just want to me. So I know I’ll need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic and get people to pick up a book and read again. So I need to know and remember who I was, where I’ve been and I want to tell you its okay to be a little afraid sometimes, it’s okay to explore the unknown, to think and live with wonder. Question the world around you, question everything, and remember today’s yesterdays, crack open a book and read under a tree on a lazy afternoon and howl and dance under the moon.

It’s okay to laugh and to be inspired, to live and marvel at this incredible thing called life, to see what we’ve been given. So the next time you hear a piano playing softly, close your eyes and think of me and consider my words and remember the magic you felt during your first kiss, remember the exhilaration of jumping in puddles and laughing in the rain. Remember how it felt playing in the fall leaves and take the time to walk barefoot through your yard and feel the soft grass between your toes and gaze up at the clouds and tell me what you see, for world is filled with magic and it’s all around us, all the time, it’s with you and me, within all of us.

 

            “Its two a.m. and I can can’t sleep again, so I decided to sit down in this computer chair and just start writing again, not really knowing where I’ll end, but the voices of the past are telling me where I should begin and trying to fall back asleep has lost its appeal, so I sit back and wondering if any of this is even real.” J Cooper.

I’ve had this passion for story telling since I was boy, I started off hating to read, but the words were quiet and persistent, inviting me into these whole new worlds, filled with both magic and wonder, offering me an escape from the place I didn’t want to be and making me wish I could always be as I was, free and carefree as any kid. I wanted to live forever as a child, to always find myself on one adventure or another, to explore the world with wonder and imagination. I saw castles, fortresses, crept past enemy lines, discovered lost and hidden abilities that I never knew I had and I never wanted to let any of it again.

In books I would lose myself completely in their pages, becoming momentarily lost in the books I’ve read, imagining what it would be like to discover a den of thieves and to don that invisible cape, to right wrongs, to save princesses, to become the hero I always wanted to be and to live in those moments, even if they lasted for just a moment. But I would carry those stories with me, with the characters often becoming my friends and would often occupy my thoughts as I drifted off to sleep. Habitually dreaming of meeting those characters who I loved, respected and admired, befriending or falling in love with them as we shared an epic journey, which would make me cling to sleep and those memories of dreaming long after my waking hours. Growing up I was found to be a quiet and introspective, spending long car rides just staring out the window letting my imagination run rampant, my thoughts wonder.

It’s these experiences and the memories that carry me through the long and lonely days. It wasn’t long after I fell in love with reading that I stated writing my own stories, creating my own characters, some of which I still carry with me today and write about. I was eight years old by the time I started crafting my own stories, with their twist and turns, sharing them excitedly with family, friends and the teachers who marveled over my creativity and originality, which motivated me to only write more.

I fell in love with words and the art that comes with writing your very own story, in your very own voice, putting yourself and working aspects of those closest to you and the ones you admired into the stories you craft. Of course, every story I wrote had characters born from different parts of me. Some were how I saw myself, while some were everything I wished I could be and who were still perfectly flawed, while others were mirror opposites of me and everything I believed in. They represented me as I imagined if I were to lose or forget myself, making the villains I would write all the more interesting and complex and born from the advice a young film maker gave me on a chance meeting when I was at Kings Island with my father, which is that even the most villainous of characters are never truly evil, most of the time they believe they’re doing the right thing.

My magic RingEven as a kid I believed that very few people ever thought of themselves as evil, less still ever wanted to be the villain. In their journey and in their eyes, they often saw themselves as heroes themselves. But every character has a journey, one that makes them who they are and often when I would sit in the car staring out the window I would imagine how my life would be with these different scenarios that often played on inside my head. Often wondering how I would have turned out if my father won custody instead of my mother, or if I stopped believing in God and fell in with a bad crowd, how would I turn out.

Then one day I sat at the dinner table, working on an outline to a story I was writing for my friends, when my mother asked me what I wanted to do after high school. And do you know what she said to me when I told her I wanted to be a writer? She laughed and said “You shouldn’t, your chances are one in a million of you being successful,” And I said “Maybe, I’m that one,” And she said “But you’re not, instead you should consider going in the military or getting into politics, because you have a better shot at being the President then you ever will being a writer.” She tried telling me I should give up on my dreams and to pursue a career where the financial success was more guanteed, she tried telling me to give up on the one thing that I loved, what made me feel alive and to simply give it up.

She didn’t care how much I loved to write, or that I felt like it was the one true thing that I could offer the world and how I dreamed of being able to change it. I know it may seem silly to you, but even back then I believed in words and if you could string together the perfect combination of words, you could save the world from itself. I was seventeen years old and I knew this to be true, because I’ve already seen the change my words had created in the people around me. I’ve turned enemies into close friends and my friends became my best friends, my brothers and all because of writing, which was the catalyst for everything. There were people who never liked me, who saw me as geek, a nerd, a loser, a fag, but I found my way with my words, sparking the sense of wonder of those around me, watching as they clung to every word I spoke and read to them the first page of my story, with my voice trembling and my hands shaking, until I looked up and saw all their eyes were upon me and leaning forward in their seats, with all of them listening to me, clinging to my every word. In the span of a few heartbeats and for the first time in my life, I had won over an entire room, I was thirteen then.

            Giving up on writing would never be an option and something that I always felt would cost me my very soul, because I had all these stories in me and these characters who wanted, needed to their tale to be told. And you know what I discovered by chasing my own dreams? My mother was wrong. And whatever she thought she saw in me was also wrong…Because I am that one in a million and so are you. We all have that something special inside of us, we’re born with storms, tidal waves, comets and forest fires raging on within us, we’re all born and gifted with magic and I for one was born in a magic time, in a magic world and no, not everyone could see what I saw then and what still see now. You see, we’re all born into this world of magic and wonder, connected my silver filaments of both chance and circumstance, and when I was child, I could talk to animals, sing to birds, read stories in the clouds and see my destiny in tiny grains of sand, the world was my magic ring and by its soft warm glow I protected, saved and changed the world countless times. Sometimes I was alone and sometimes I accomplished even greater feats with my brothers or the friends I made along the way, my world was in constant flux, growing and shrinking whenever friends came or went away, but no matter what, we were always connected by this web that connects and binds us all together. Friends, brothers, family and all the people we meet along the way on this journey called life, joining us, becoming connected, with some friendships lasting for only day while others forever. Learning slowly and over time that people will always come and go in our lives, no one leaves this world alive and those who leave us, leave behind permanent impressions and their fingerprints of who they were and what they meant to us on our very soul, for they may not always be with us, but their words will last forever in our hearts, the memory of those random strangers who came into our lives offering us their hand in friendship when we needed it, bonding in that single moment forever frozen in that one moment in time. The friends I made on vacation back when I was a kid, or more recently when I went to Fandom Fest in Louisville, Kentucky, making friendships I wouldn’t soon forget and all the like minded people I met, with the memories of who they were and the friendship we forged during my two day stay was and still is baffling to me, leaving me still wondering how and where they are now and if they ever got their flask signed by those two movie stars who we all loved and admired. Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flannery.

photo

The scars of who we are, Part 1.

The scars of who we are, part 1.

Intro. Life is often like our dreams, where nothing is ever quite as what it seems.
~J Cooper

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by someone else, I don’t know. All I know for certain is that some will read this thinking I’m just playing the victim, when I’m not, I’m just sharing the truth as I know it.  So if you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were too busy fighting to really take a moment to just stop and get to know me.

But that isn’t how I’ll like to begin, even though if you’re reading this now, I had just finished writing the final installment to this series, about my life, telling it as honestly as I know it. it took me a year to sum up most of my life in 17 chapters. My intention wasn’t to focus on my family, but the struggles of dealing with abuse at home and going to school and facing down the bullies that were there. But as I wrote, I found all these memories and emotions inside of me, with the story of me and my family just wanting to get out of me, so without intending to do so, it all just came pouring out.

It all started in late December of last year, when a friend heard a little of what I went through and she told a friend of her’s Shane Pergrem of True Artist Studios, check them out here http://www.trueartistsstudio.com. Who does  a lot of documentaries and had called me in for an interview. I never realized until I started talking about everything that I went through growing up about how much I needed it, needed to just talk about it. I was always afraid of being a burden, or that I would come off as a whining victim, or risk people accusing me of being a liar. When pressed I would sometimes open up and give people a few snippets of growing up with my bi-polar and my more or less schizophrenic mother. But despite everything I’ve been through, suffered, I’m still alive, I’m still standing, so I’m going to share my story with you, so that you know that things do get better, even when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, with no no hope of getting out, because you can. It won’t be easy, it’ll be he hardest, longest and toughest battle you’ll ever face. You may get tired or fall along the way, which we all do, but what’s important is to keep getting back up. No matter what life throws at you, you have to keep pressing forward, never stop reaching out and always, always believe in magic.

Because, that’s what I believe in. I’m a Christian who firmly believes that when God created this world, he did so with a little magic, magic that he placed in you. Because we  all start off knowing magic when we’re young. We’re born with fire, storms and comets inside us. Even when I was a boy, I would step outside myself and see a world of endless possibilities, I believed in magic, heroes, dragons and that all animals secretly had the power to speak and all we had to do was be patient and listen. talk. But not everybody could see it, that web of magic we all lived in, connected my those silver filaments of chance and circumstance, but I knew it all along. The world was my magic lantern and with it  I unlocked the secrets of the past, adventured in the present and explored the far future. When we’re kids, we don’t discriminate, beat ourselves up, or make excuses, we live in the moment, day by day, capable of seeing our destinies on tiny grains of sand and the power to sing to birds.

But as we grow older, we develop fears, doubts and become consumed by the opinions of others, becoming afraid to say what’s on our minds, our heads and in our hearts. We worry about what others might think, or do and we forget the magic that’s been imprinted, like fingerprints onto our very souls. We often take for granted the moment we feel that magic pool residing within our souls, when you finally get the chance to sit and talk to your crush and how you experience this incredible moment where time just stops and it lasts much longer than just moment. We forget to look up and see the world around us and the beauty we once saw in the clouds when we were young, staring up at the sky in awe, wondering what it would be like to fly up and sail through the very clouds we watched from the ground.

Many lose their way, we stumble and fall and forget sometimes the magic within their hearts. But the wonder and the magic of this world can often be found in the silver filaments of our dreams. But like all things,  once you get so far from it, it gradually fades away, like a long forgotten well that eventually dries up, becoming lost in the sands of time. And we fall in line with chance and circumstance, forgetting about the dreams where we can fly, or fearlessly exploring a lost cavern with nothing to light our way but the fading glow from the lantern we carry along in our trembling hands.

But me, I’m a dreamer and as a dreamer I believe  there’s a certain kind of magic locked deep within our souls and its called imagination and imagination is what keeps us young. (Or keeps me young at heart to say the least)

Of course growing up we do tend to get away from it, we stop believing in fairy-tales, the knights in shining armor, and the damsels in distress. Often with it goes our sense of chivalry and honor,  no longer do we believe in the magic of a moment which settles and hovers there in the air, and becomes much more than a moment, once sound stops and movement ceases for much, much more than a moment. Like when your hands brush against that of your one true love right before you share your first kiss and you can actually feel the electricity in the air, as your heart flutters and feels like it’s about to beat right out of your chest, making you feel weak, strong and lighter all at once.

But we often drift away from this feeling of magic, wonder and the daring to wish and hope upon a star, and every day thereafter it becomes that much harder to believe in both magic and the dreams that guide us. Which is odd to me, since we spend almost as much time dreaming as we do being awake.

But even if you lose that spark, all is not lost, believe me. Loss sometimes marks a larger return, being a writer I often lose several pages or entire chapters that I had spent half the night working on, or maybe an entire month of writing, honing, editing making it perfect, just to lose it. ( which tends to make you want to throw said computer out the window.)  Then after I finish shouting to the heavens and bashing my head against my desk and pacing the floors, I take a breath and mutter a few swears and other nonsense, before taking a another breath. Then I crack my knuckles and sit back down and start all over again, much like life. Sometimes you may lose a job, or a spouse, a save file, flash drive, or a loved one. No matter what it is you’ve lost, you eventually have to pull yourself back together and start over. Which can be daunting I know, I had to start over and rebuild my own life a few times over and it’s something that never gets any easier and it was never easy to begin with. But you do it, because you have too, because quitting and giving up isn’t an option, I survived and been through too much to have it kill me right there at the end. Besides, if you quit, I’ll never know how close I’ve came to achieving everything I set out to do.

With that said and remembering all those things I’ve said so long ago, many may call me a failure. But to me, failing is something that only happens once you’ve given up. I may not have achieved much of what I set out to do and had hoped to have done at this point in my life. But I’ve gained more than I could have have ever hoped for, I discovered that family is what you say it is, not what it should be. A stranger can become a friend, that friend can later become like a brother, who then becomes family.

I do all this because I have all these stories inside of me, characters who long to live, waiting patiently for me to tell their story. I learned a long time ago that you can never let little setbacks derail you, or become a roadblock. It happens, even to the best of us and with that I say, never lose that spark, that so irreplaceable spark, that animates and connects us all to everything. Remember your dreams, remember the simply joys you had as a child, when you were jumping from one couch to another to avoid the lava.

Even when we get so far away from the magic and the songs within us, I believe that whenever a song stirs a memory, or when you’re sitting in a darkened theater watching a moving that stirs your feelings, or moves you in a particular way.  For people like me, the people who have picked up a book and decided to just read again, this happens whenever you nose is buried in a book and you feel your heart racing as you immerse yourself in the world the author had created and you’re living the story as much as you are reading it, watching it all unfold before you as if you were there.

It is within these rare moments that you become connected with the swirling pool of magic residing in your very own heart. When you’re accompanying these characters on their journey, with your heart racing as you inch ever closer to the climax, just to breathe a sigh of relief as you reach the conclusion, for whatever it may be. Leaving you with the resolution, which sometimes brings closure, or contempt, sometimes great sadness or joy, even on the rare occasion it brings great displeasure. Because for a few minutes, these characters, these words written on a page have become real.

For better or for worse, I grew up in a magic time, in a magic world which helped save me from the darker side of life, which is why I decided to write this. The few people who have heard about my life and my childhood tell me how inspirational my life is, because I didn’t let the darkness encroach around my heart and soul, didn’t let it define me. Even in the times when it threatened to swallow me whole.

Now this may sound clique, but my story is my own. It may not be for everyone and I may be writing for you, just you, because this isn’t going to be a story all about sunshine and rainbows. It’s about my life and my struggles with growing up in a broken home, with an abusive mother and only being able to see my father every other weekend, which became the only thing for me to look forward too. My father saved my life and helped salvaged what little childhood I had and made it worth living. I love my father, despite his flaws and short comings. I know he did his best and he still tries to always be there and support me when he can. It’s not possible to admire someone more than I do my own father.
Now I ran a bit long here so, you’ll have to wait until The Scars of who we are Part II, where I’ll actually dive into my childhood and how I actually survived my own abortion or so speak. But before I go, I would just like to inform my readers, that despite everything I been through, I survived. Even my suicide attempt I survived (obviously) but more than that, I persevered and overcame my demons and all my troubles. I’m fairly well-adjusted and my life has greatly improved and my only complaint is that there isn’t enough time in the day to do everything I want to do. But I look forward to each new day with enthusiasm, curiously, wonder, and grace. So keep reading and keep living.