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Letter to Ben(workshopped)

October 19, 2011

Stereo Hearts

♪“My heart's a stereo
It beats for you, so listen close
Hear my thoughts in every no-o-o-te
Make me your radio
Turn me up when you feel low
This melody was meant for you
Just sing along to my stereo”♬

October 19th is the anniversary which I graduated high school in 2006. The date makes me think about all kinds of different things. Mainly, Christal Gordon. She was my best friend in high school, and the reason I graduated a quarter (of a year) behind schedule.
When her car broke down, my grandpa decided to give her the $200 to fix it. He said she never had to pay him back, as long as she promised to take me with her if I needed to go where she was already headed. We worked at the same place, and had classes on the same campuses, so it seemed like a fair deal…

One day, she decided she hated my necklace. I don’t know exactly why? Maybe it’s because we were both fat girls (neck in neck) , and the necklace inexplicably gave me an extra grain of confidence. Maybe it was a reason I have yet to comprehend. Whatever it may have been; She said she wouldn’t take me to our next class if I didn’t take my necklace off, and I wouldn’t.
She never took me to that class again; I had to drop it-causing me to graduate late, and her: early.
Her decision infuriated me at first. I refused to forgive her. She ended up graduating a quarter (of a year) ahead of schedule, in December 2005. That also made me feel so angry at her.

My anger caused me to behave in ways that I will never forgive myself for today. I decided to tell her deepest secret to her crush.

How stupid and immature was I?!
Fast forward to July of 09...
She dies on highway 225.

Now I’m ahead in life.

♩“Appreciate every mixtape your friends make
You never know we come and go like on the interstate”♫

(newspaper article of Christal's fatal accident)


It no longer matters that she graduated before me. The triviality of the issue is nauseating. The lack of substance in the subject is disgraceful. It’s shaming. Weather or not I understand the motive of her actions; I forgive her. I grieve over this reality.
She was robbed of her chance to feel happy like I have felt. I mean… The afterlife may offer eternal bliss, but that doesn’t take consequence away from her loss of turn here, now to achieve success.
I’m sure if she was granted the same chance as I, to mature; She would feel contrite, as I.

♬“If I could only find a note to make you understand
I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hand
Just keep it stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune
And know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you”♩

I’ve been able to watch as my dreams bloom into lush fruits, while continuing to produce plentiful nectar to sustain my next endeavor. I have had the chance to witness my own limitless potential

She used to stare at this old picture of herself. She was obsessed with the girl she was. The girl she had somehow ceased to be. She was never able to return to the past, or get a grasp on the prospective identity she could become from possibility. She never seemed to recognize her true significance. Never truly cognizant of what  magnificence she possessed.

Somewhere over the rainbow, you can’t contend with that view.
It is the destination all dreams pursue.
The location that facilitates potential that is resolute.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
when the time is right, you can hitch a ride
one might decide to supply you with sweet lullabies
if the desire strikes him in the depths of the sky

It would behoove you to stay mindful
sustain an abundant, phantasmic eye full
declare your home in this moment, among this starry night
Your company provides the sky a substantial delight

up on a star your wish does land
thriving to sizes greater than you wagered
blessings blossoming more prosperously than you planned

♪“I think I finally found a note to make you understand
If you can hit it, sing along and take me by the hand
Just keep me stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune
You know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you”♪

This year’s outlook for those of us born in the year of the dragon is rather grim. I acknowledge how lucky I actually am in comparison to a lot of my closest friends. Most of my pain has been transcendental. To be perfectly honest, all of my distressing experiences have generously yielded me with profound wisdom.

the fact that you believed in her, made her real.
when I sought you out in the summer before 8th grade, I lied to you. Twisted the truth. Not always. Mostly regarding my wishes and dreams. I told you I was she, whom I wished I would be.
 The fact that you believed in her with your mental material; Generated authentic fibers for her to wield into actuality. The power of your thought helped her assert reality.

This happens with every story. If a being exists, only within one mind; It is that mind in which this being’s life thrives.

You once painted a portrait of spiders inside my mind. With this appalling image; You save my life. Deep inside me, there is a defense mechanism programmed with this story. Whenever my subconscious feels attacked by an outside source, it manifests in the form of spiders. They attack me first in my dreams. If i’m too dense to receive the message, they start to leave physical bites that only vanish when I truly recognize, and rectify the complication.
The Spider bites her to spite her.
Your spiders became real inside me.

The spirit of every notable essence grows in the fluctuation of contemplation. It’s domain is extended through each mind it is comprehended within.

I read through my old diary. It covered the span from 6th-10th grade. I can honestly say: That little girl’s dreams all came true. Even the ones that seemed improbable- like, a genuine genetic older brother, and about eight younger half siblings.

But, “the map is not the territory”. I spend so much time contemplating the reasons for why I am, though it does not at all precipitate my awareness. I can make traces back to a time when an eccentric behavior of mine originated, and make clear deductions as to why I began to do those things. This however, does not help me grow to transcend these quirks. Even when I fully recognize and admit to the ways that I am obstructed by these mannerisms. What am I missing? (This description is very vague. I will elaborate upon request, but you have the right not to know.)

Last time I sent you a heartfelt message, it was to inform you about my special new relationship. It lasted for a year and two months. She turned out to be a raging alcoholic. I’m not saying that i’m perfect- but i’m present. I was really stupid to have let it last as long as it did. I earnestly confronted her. I can honestly say I did everything I could do to keep our love alive- within reason. I can’t be content with an alcoholic. There are times I almost regret everything. Times when my soul was battered until it shattered into tatters. But at least now I know when to say when. I know that whenever that is- there will unfailingly be a, ‘what if’. Always something I feel I could’ve, think I should’ve, or wish I would’ve done. The real question is, for what?. A human being can only do so much...

Oh my GOD! I am so terrified of growing up; Of failing life. I don’t want to give up so much of my time. I want to feel able to give, and do, and be. I want to do art, and write. I want to change the world. I H AVE TO CHANGE THE WORLD. but how, here? how? I am paralyzed by fear. I am so scared, I am shaking. I hear voices in the white noise. They ridicule me. They hate me. They know all my deepest secrets. It thinks i’m already a failure. It’s me. My own voice. I fight it, and fight it just CONSTANTLY. But here, right now…it’s getting the best of me.
    I’m so confused. I just wish i knew. There are so many things I want to do- but I feel my heart rate escalate, my body starts to shake. I am so afraid of failure. Everyone seems to know I’ll succeed. I wish I could see what they see…..

Deep down, I know too. I know I will succeed- It’s even what the contemptuous voice inside myself wants. It craves to be proven wrong. When it is- it will  ignite, as a match upon strike; Transform from this cold, hollow doubt, into fervent waves of satisfaction…

“Stereo Hearts- Gym class heroes, Adam Levine”

“Alfred Korzybski”


Call to adventure/ Departure/
The Universe: Shine for me; I challenge thee./ Bring it!/Wake up!
    My sister, Toni, always had a quirky accent, and an endearing gait.-Always as if she were dancing. One day in her sophomore year, a teacher accused her of being drunk, and required her to take a sobriety test. This caused her to become outraged. She had never even had alcohol in her life! This incident forced our family to become aware that her little quirk needed to be further examined.
    After that, she took some tests at a special doctor’s office which  ultimately determined that she had a degenerative disease known as Frederich’s ataxia. Not only would she soon lose her ability to dance, or even walk for that matter; She lost her self esteem; the itinerary for her life was subject to major adjustment.
    The circumstance that lay before her forced her to explore, and redefine her sense of ‘self’. This incident compares to the moment, in the tale of ‘The Princess with the Golden Ball”, when the princess loses the ball. Toni’s ‘golden ball’, being her motor skills, and dance abilities.
    Campbell’s description of the departure calls attention to the similarities between the struggles of leaving the warmth, and safety of a mother’s womb in birth, and the  challenging uncertainty of leaving the protection and stability of a mother’s home in early adulthood.
Refusal of the Call//
Star: My light needs for batteries/I lost it! I dropped it! It fell out of my pocket!/(Groaning), Give me five more minutes.

Although Toni was extremely stubborn in how she chose to handle -her dilemma; her choices were also impressive. She resisted using a cane to help her walk, and refused to use a wheelchair until the day she fell so hard, she was unable to breathe for several minutes.
Belly of the Whale// I would rather fail of my own volition, than risk a failure after demonstrating my greatest effort.
    My sister’s circumstance is an extreme representation of what we all somewhat face when we find ourselves in the body of adversity. The, “Oh my God! Who am I?”, moment, when one must re-establish perspective within a modified standpoint. The belly of the whale symbolizes darkness, and confusion. This is when crucial details are painfully plagued by opaque cognizance.
    Sometimes I don’t want to grow up. I am so afraid of becoming nothing; Strangely terrified of success. I stay frozen in this fear; Consumed by my doubt, uncertainty, and the daunting idea that I may fall short of meeting the expectations I set for myself- or even more unnerving: Learning that I am absolutely brilliant, because- if I’m brilliant, what on earth is my freaking problem!? I would rather be an idiot who lives at the top of her potential, then a flummoxed genius- a waste of intellect. These fears, and obsessions can easily create the very fate that delivered them. I was probably never at risk for this outcome until I harbored the mind to fear it.
    A person’s decision to refuse the call, originates from a state of either fear, or laziness- the two major human deficits. It sort of reminds me of that part of Astronomy- the space chemical (fear), slowly changes its composition, and at half life we discover that  the substance has entirely transformed its structure (into laziness).
    Supernatural Aid/Crossing of the First Threshold/Magic Fight/Rescue
Spirit of the Universe: Expose yourself for the magnitude of my Grace to be revealed //Reach for me, and be immersed in my Holy haven
    In Mythology, Which is most often told from a retrospective standpoint; The Hero is defined when he, or she, crosses ‘the first threshold’, or, displays evidence of progress reaching their object of desire- May it simply be survival- They are involved in accepting or initiating their arduous journey away from the known; Willingly averting from security and comfort to confront unpaved roads, and ultimately prevail with the supernatural aid-in the face of chaffing hurdles.
    My Dream/ Personal Myth. (“You” is an old best friend of mine, All of the self pronouns represent me, the dreamer.) I chose to write it out in second person, because it was a more cathartic experience for me. I never had the chance to express any of these things to “you”.
    You and I are walking down a winding path on a beautiful day. It looks kind of like the path in the park near home, but it's not. It's probably downtown or maybe even in New York.... (maybe, the location of this dream, symbolizes the heart of society?)
    Flowers are growing around us on the ground as we pass by. We are so happy. We stop for a moment while you gaze up into the sunshine, letting it wash over your face. Your hair grows instantly (almost like the Mexican pelo candy, or play-dough salon, only more realistic)-it gets much longer than it ever was. You giggle like a child as you shake your head- letting your hair fly everywhere, brushing against your face. I react to this by jumping, and clapping.
    A gnarled,wrinkled, root-like, hand grows from the ground right by our feet. It looks like a weak plant. Like it would rip, not stretch if anything were to strain it. We don't notice it at all. We are rejoicing the return of your long, shiny, beautiful hair. We gaze into the sky together. I point out a cloud that looks exactly like a trolly, and we appreciate it for a moment.
    Slowly, the hand wraps its fingers around your ankle. The fabric of your pants is thick, and the hand touches you very lightly, so you still don't notice. Suddenly it yanks you down, your foot breaks through the cement path, exposing an inferno beneath you. I hold my foot out over the flames for you to grab, and I reach up toward the trolly we saw in the sky. Instantaneously, it meets my hand.
    Only bars separate each window. There is no glass. There is also a narrow platform that goes around the perimeter of the trolly. It's half the size ofmy foot. I grab two of the window bars, and place my free foot on the platform. The passenger at this window, wraps his hands around mine, he is a black man. He wears a long khaki coat with several pockets, a black leather golf cap, and a pair of black sunglasses- the kind that blind people usually wear in movies. I use my weight, and his leverage to try and free you from the hand. The trolly goes into high gear as we play tug of war- you being the rope. (My ankle is hurting really bad, and my foot is scorched- it's very realistic.) You, and my foot are no longer being burned by the inferno. We have moved up slightly, but the demon hand still has a firm grasp around your ankle.
    You begin to lose your grip on my ankle. I attempt to reach for you with one of my hands, but the man who is holding them will not let either of them go. I scream, insisting that he release one of my hands, but he does not outwardly respond at all. He maintains a serene facial expression. His hold stays fixed around my hands- Though he is not squeezing or hurting me. It doesn’t even hurt when I tug.
    The other passengers have all moved to our side of the trolly. Two more of them grab onto my arms, ignoring my protests. As I am grappling with these people, your fingers slip all the way off of my ankle, then my foot, then they slide off the tip of my toe. There is a lot of screaming and commotion coming from you and I- but none of the passengers on the trolly are angry, or disturbed at all. They care, but they're not freaking out. I am hysterical as the three passengers that were holding me, hoist me into the trolly. I look out the window- down at the gaping hole in the path with the inferno bleeding through it-consuming all beauty around it. It has burned many of the flowers that grew around us during our walk.
    The Trolly’s passengers all surround me. One gently comforts me by rubbing my back. The man who initially grabbed my hands explains that you could've boarded the trolly as well- but you didn't want to. I feel like this is ludicrous. Why wouldn't you have wanted to be saved? You wanted to get sucked into the inferno? It doesn't make sense to me. I become angry, but the enchantment of the trolly causes me to be incapable of expressing this in a loud, or rude manner- it comes out as an inquisition. Each passenger takes a turn trying to explain your situation to me, but I am unable to understand it for the duration of the dream.
When I wake up, my foot actually burns for a week.
    It is only NOW that I understand. I didn't even realize how much this dream entails until now. At first, I thought that I still could have helped you. I thought it was my negligence, or lack of doing something I could have done, that caused you to be sucked into the inferno. I constantly assumed the blame for your circumstance because of this piece of enlightenment I was granted.
    I felt that because I had this dream, I could have been aware of the weak plant as it grew next to your ankle- plucked it from the ground prior to it acquiring strength, or power; While it was still a thin twig. Before it was ready to grab you. I also wonder how strong it already was in its earlier stages- if it would have consumed me as I bent to pluck it. Should I have instead moved you from the area where the gnarled hand grew? Which brings me to wonder- If it grew to grab you? If so, would the demon hand have simply grown wherever you stood? Is the solution, to always keep moving? Never stop-even to rejoice for the things we feel are important? I know that I don't have the power to always keep you moving- metaphorically, or in any sense. Does it signify that evil manifests in time of celebration?
    I ignored the explanations of all the passengers on the trolly. They painstakingly attempted to inform me of what I finally understand; You could have boarded the trolly with me. You really did choose to abstain from your rescue.  The man who refused to let go of my arms was Jesus (The driver was God- A stocky black man with mirrored sun glasses.) It wasn't that He didn't care about you- or that he wouldn’t come to your aid; But you have to reach for him yourself. You have to want more for yourself than to sink into that hole.  I can pray for you, but it’s still up to you to desire a rescue.
    You have the power of your very own rescue trolly at your disposal; You aren’t expected to rely on the resources of my prayers alone. The pain in my ankle represented the strain that was caused by exercising every ounce of my capacity to pull you out of the inferno- but I am not strong enough to pull you out at this awkward angle, and it leaves me with a scalded heart. I will no longer enable you, by cushioning you from ‘rock bottom;. I’m only serving to distract you from the urgency here before you. You absolutely must reach out and grab your Trolly-cloud, your Supernatural aid- your savior; In whatever shape, or form they may display.


A soul is broken. Instead of mourning this, or (ultimately) perceiving it as destruction; The hero utilizes this as an opportunity to renovate themselves; Reinforce the aspects that remained standing in the aftermath of this challenge, and redefine the structure of aspects that keeled over at the prospect of adversity. It takes a humble person to permit an experience to question the integrity of their utter identity, in a way that allows them to discover advantage by choosing to welcome- to embrace this condemnation of their overall composition.
    This journey is often associated with the moment when a child is strained through the narrow threshold betwixt youth, and adulthood. They are met with a realization that the time is upon them to accept responsibility for that which defines them. Sometimes, this is through means of an undesirable variation of those things which the individual, identifies with.
    In my sister’s circumstance, She was an amazing dancer. She practiced endlessly, and aspired limitlessly toward the goal of someday turning it into a career. After being diagnosed with her disease, this was no longer a possibility.

the road of trials
This is a prayer I wrote when I was 15:

Hello, I am praying with all my heart for the loving Lord to take my life. Please! I don't want to be here anymore. I can't (under)stand life anymore, I cant! I am begging, please Lord, take my life. I want to be with you now. I can't make it in the world. I am miserable. I am ready.

    The ironic duplicity of my wording did not stay lost on me. My desire was stated in such a vague way, it allowed the statement to acquire a serendipitous elegance which was unbeknownst to me, yet evident in God’s plan.
    I  have been so full of heartache, I contemplated suicide. I am not ashamed. Although putting an end to your life is a shameful act- the feeling of suicide is a misconception of emotion.
What I was truly feeling, was the desire to end my current circumstances. I was experiencing a lack of substance, possibly. Over exertion- I  was working so hard, but couldn’t seem to find meaning.
    My soul was begging me to ask God to take my life. What I was asking was not that God end my life- but that He take charge of my life; Implement His Holy meaning; Use my working hands to complete His Glorious Plan.
    Often times, people are fooled into believing that once they've given their lives to God- they will stop experiencing pain and stress. They are deceived into believing that their suffering should end. Though this is thoroughly untrue- I take pride in the knowledge that the struggles in my life are not without purpose.
    Sufferage is Gods divine way of shaping me into the person He wants me to be; Which, coincidentally- is also the person I’ve always wanted to be.. Because we, as humans; Carry an innate sense of the path we are destined to follow. Our souls have a deep hunger for God's message; The energy that comes from our bodies each day upon waking; Yearns to be spent Glorifying our maker.
    Through struggle, we will come to know the Holy essence, and learn to trust the Holy plan. With our questions, we have opportunities to receive answers directly from the divine- through being receptive, and constantly trying our hardest not to let the faintest whisper evade our perception. Receive guidance from God through a personal, intimate relationship that we individually cultivate with Him- by remaining open to His voice, by contemplating the deep holy meaning of all adversity, by abstaining from laziness- we cannot expect our lives to be lived FOR US. If a job needs to be done for God, it is through OUR HANDS that He shall be served- if we allow it.
    The reason God Chose not to reach down from the heavens to amend the outcomes of uninformed decisions? Free will. As we learn to trust God, we will come to understand the level of trust God has given us. He knows that we live to serve Him, whether we too, know - or not. The truth is always in front of our eyes. One must deliberately avoid it not to see.

Atonement With Father

    I wrote the poem below, on the page after I wrote my prayer above. The words are too meaningful for me to believe they came from myself. I accredit them to the Holy Essence:
Come with me, take my hand. Walk with me to the moon.
I will lead you in the most amazing dance across the stars.
Count them with me, Bring with, your dreams, and your fears.
Together we will fly through all of your years.

Hand in hand, now we glide
Among the clouds we stride
I will guide your life
We will dance through castles where children's dreams thrive.
Remember these skies?
I took both your hands, and led you with closed eyes.
You lived in me- you flew.

Come with me- Dance on the sea
Deep in the earth, travel with me.
Heaven is close, in the beautiful reef
Another world within a world.

Hand in hand, now we swim
One of these days, a Majestic ship will arrive to take us away.
But together now, we sail through another day.
When you're face to face with destiny
you'll have no breath left to ask why
and no desire to *say goodbye
*alternate- *end your life.

 by design,
                                 from your decline
                                       the EXPANSE
                            to Devour
           E n t i r e t y

God tosses us lightly into the distance.
He already knows that we will swing right back to Him.
We are specifically engineered to perform this dance
to recoil from, Existence
Which He is not involved in.
The temptress is most commonly portrayed by a woman. The first example I ever knew, was the story of Adam, and Eve in the ‘Garden of Eden.’ From the Christian Bible. In the story, Eve was not actually the Temptress, the serpent was. Eve, however, was the one who was seduced by the Serpent’s illusive presentation. I think, another contributing factor to this; Is that a woman must behave in a deceptive, tempting way in order to enforce her will on a man because men are usually stronger, and larger than women, and can easily overpower them with brute, physical force.
    The house of Atreus
    Dinner with tantalus, the son of Zeus; Led me to contemplating the infliction of evil upon the human heart. It is difficult for me to fully comprehend exactly what brings a person to want to inflict misery upon another; Especially since, most of those who choose to do this, have experienced suffering of their own. This story demonstrates the way that someone such as this, actually sacrifices their legacies; For a chance, simply to sabotage another’s. This is the disposition of a wicked person. I don’t think anyone really starts off wicked. This corruption is the outcome of a person whose soul shatters under life’s pressure- A soul that was never able to develop an ability to exercise forgiveness, and, who lives doubtful of their potential for greatness. This circumstance is a tragedy.

Crossing Return Threshold//Master of Two Worlds
    I struggle to stop analyzing my reality, and start influencing it. It feels so gratifying to be wrapped safely in a nourishing cocoon of knowledge, and wisdom. It is an addictive feeling, to remain safe enough while softening my exterior, to allow (God) to fully penetrate my identity. I am terrified that to cross back over the threshold, is to return to the confusion I felt when I began this journey. I know there is a way to sustain my growth, and transformation, while existing as proof of the supernatural influence which furnished my success. I struggle to find balance; Between introspective dreaming, and manifesting the fiber to yield enough vivifying substance to adequately dignify the blessings I received; I grapple with my attempts to distinguish feelings of intuition from twinges of impulse- specifically in situations where waiting is not a viable option. I strive to accept the concept of ‘the Unknown’. God is something I can know. Even if I am greeted in afterlife by destitute emptiness; If I cannot ascertain proof beyond my faith - I am unable to deny that He is ever-present inside of me. I cannot extrapolate God’s lack of existence from this, because He already exists so clearly in the absence of such evidence. I can painstakingly swallow the concept of ‘unknown’, with a spoonful of substantiating my trust in ’the Plan’.
    I used to HATE my hair.  I used to cry and hit myself in the head from my frustration with it. I had to learn how to work with it on my own, since it is a uniqueness of mine which is not shared by any member of my family. Now, I love it. I love my hair SO MUCH, I would absolutely choose this hair exactly, if I were given the opportunity. God knew me better than I knew myself -because He made me, and this illustrates that it is a relief to unequivocally trust in Him. Its just that it is also a constant effort to maintain. through the torment of this flawed, hanus reality.


Blue Jam Tunes
Kismet Witstatic

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