Big Dream - Little Dream
When I was fifteen, I put on my headphones, turned on some of my favorite tunes, and laid back on my bed. I began to see the most wondrous psychedelic visions, (no drugs involved), most of which were beyond explanation or words. I wrote in my journal how one day I hoped I might be able to share what I saw with others, and that I wished I could simply open up my head to see what I saw.
Read more: Big Dream - Little Dream
Allow Your Past to Unlock Your Future
There are several recurring events that have shadowed my ancestry. These patterns became so apparent to me, I began to chart them, analyze them, and ponder their significance to me today... and even more importantly... for tomorrow, and for the rest of my life. I began to seek ways to utilize these events in a beneficial way. As I did, something unusual became vividly clear:
The past of our ancestors can serve as a doorway to our future, and in a very positive and powerful way.
Read more: Allow Your Past to Unlock Your Future
Don't Go it Alone
I've always been known to be fiercely independent. Even as a toddler, I learned to flip the latch on my crib, crawl out, and escape the boundaries of sleep and confinement. I won't tell you about all the mischief I got into during those stealth maneuvers, (which included a small kitchen fire, tea parties in the toilet, and de-framing hung pictures from off the wall), but my mother said she enrolled me in pre-kindergarden at age three because she thought I was bored.
Ah the joys of a do-it-yourself grandchild.
Stories that Never Happened... And I Am Grateful
In 1926, Bessie Olla (my grandmother) passed away from tuberculosis leaving behind her husband and twelve-year-old son (my father). In 1985, history tried to repeat itself.
In 1985, with a son just two-and-a-half years old, cancer paid a call. I remembered Bessie Olla in those days. In fact, I thought about her a lot. Her disease resided in her lungs, mine had been found in the upper thoracic. In many ways we were the same. She had left behind a poem that she had written during her fight.
Read more: Stories that Never Happened... And I Am Grateful

