Introduction

 

 

"Make visible what, without you,

might never have been seen."

 

Robert Bresson

 

 

   A conversation I had with my mother just a short time before she passed away as I was writing my first book.

​

"Hi Mom."

"Hi Honey Bunny, whatcha doin?" I loved when she called me "Honey Bunny." It told me she was in good space. She sounded hopeful, upbeat, alive.

"Not much. I'm writing. In fact I believe it's turning into a book."

"Am I in it?" she asked with a hint of fear in her voice. She knew I always wanted to write a book.

"Yes. Yes, you are."

The dreaded moment of silence I intuitively knew would be there as the conversation unfolded.

"Is it bad?" with a bit of defeat in her voice.

"It's truthful."

More of that painful silence.

"Do you think it will help someone?" now with a glint of hope in her voice.

"I really do. Even if it helps only one person then it's a success."

"Then you be as truthful as you have to be."

She offered that with a level of confidence I had never heard before in her voice.

"Thank you Mom. Thank you so much for that, I so appreciate it."

-

   We all have a story. And its authentically ours. To love, or to hate. To move from hating it to loving it. Or to move from loving it to hating it. No matter where your station it will always be authentically yours. Would you believe me if I told you that there was an Infinite Design that held sway over it? Would you believe me if I told you that your story, no matter how big or small you think it is, is your most powerful possession? That it indeed can be used on so many levels? To encourage? To love? To be instrumental in another's "story," their station?

   It is so.

   Although there were long periods of time that I wished to hide my story, to run from my story, to evade my story, I have come to believe in its power. I have moved from loving my story to hating my story then back to loving my story. And this is where I am at the moment. Total ease and comfort with the entire design of it.

   When I share with you that it took decades to reach this space I am not exaggerating. Although I've always worn my heart on my sleeve deep within I never wanted you to know my story. I didn't want you to know what was buried deep down inside of me. The guilt. The shame. The remorse. The sense of being lost. The feeling of never being a part of or of even fitting in. I always felt like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. But I've come to believe, to see, and to feel, that we are all very much the same. People, places, and things may be different for each of us but at our core we are all the same. It makes no difference what our color is, what our creed is, what our race is. Deep down within we are one and the same and truly connected by God.

   Since arriving at loving my story, in essence fully accepting my story, I have wanted to shout it from rooftops. Not in a vain manner but in a way that might resonate. Resonate with you. But I was blocked. The greatest variable to writing my story without reservation has been fear. Actually quite a few fears. The fear of what you might think perhaps heads the list. Most certainly followed by the fear of my family, fear of what they might think, fear of how they might react to it. I must share that it doesn't matter anymore at this point. I am free from the fears. This allows me to make what has always been held within "visible." And perhaps by making it all visible then another might be inspired to do the exact same thing. And perhaps with this more and more will be made visible thereby creating the two things that face fear head on. Faith and Hope.

   My story began long before I arrived here and it began with my family. Generations and generations of persuasions and philosophies passed down from generation to generation. Guiding forces created by varied experiences that allowed many of my relatives, many I did not know, to pass on their ideas, their attitudes, and their emotions. As a species who is in a constant state of evolution there seems to be no escaping this passing on of generational trauma. This is the part of my story I held in contempt for so many years. This is the part of my story that I felt so powerless over. Powerless over accepting and powerless over changing. My story has always been tied into my family's story, individually and collectively.

   As you read it is my hope that you might identify, relate, to a better part of it. I really hope you can relate to every aspect. The joy. The pain. The love. The hate. All of it. It is the greatest of my hopes that you might find what I have found in the way of an Answer.

   I ask two things of you. If you throw the writing across the room go pick it up and dust it off. And if you begin to experience awareness's perhaps never felt, or long abandoned, please embrace them and know this. You are not alone. We are never alone.

   Here is my story. I am ready to make it visible and take you on the magical mystery tour.