let me tell you a story about a boy and a girl

story about boy and girlOnce upon a time, there was a man and woman that fell in love when they were kids.  As kids do, they separate and continue living their lives.  Nineteen years later they reconnect, and one thing is for sure – there was a reason they had each other in their hearts for so long.  There was a reason why they had always harbored a love for one another.  There was a reason they would reconnect at 35 years old and realize it is with each other they were meant to spend their lives with.

Before this man and woman traveled through this life in their flesh, they traveled as one in spirit.  God makes us this way.  He split their darkness, light, depth and love and placed them exactly where they needed to be and to whom they needed to be borne to.  The spirit of the boy was to be seasoned with a life of love, hardship, loneliness and fear, while the spirit of the girl was to be seasoned with a life of suffering, compassion, adversity and pain.

God saw the traveled paths of these two beings on Earth, but had faith that they would meet in this material world.  This faith brought them together in their youth.  The boy and girl locked eyes and heard each other’s voices.  There was an unexplainable connection, but being so young they didn’t understand.  They fell in love, but still needed to learn so much more in life before they could be ready for each other.  Although they parted paths, God still had faith in their spirit.

Their paths would cross multiple times throughout their young adulthood, but it was never at the right time.  The magnetic force of spirit would bring them together but their yearn to succumb to the earthly life would triumph.  God still had faith.

Their trials in life had brought them close to God.  The boy realized that with God as his rock, he will never waiver.  The girl realized that she was never alone, God was with her through all tribulations.

After living many years of life and experiencing many adversities of life, the man and woman connect again. God is the adhesive; it is He that adjoins the spirit of the man and woman.  It is He who makes them complete.

The connection you feel, it’s because of this.  I am the other half of your happiness.  I am the other half of your emptiness.  I am the unvoid to the void.  I stopped praying to God for many years, and yet I knew he continued to speak to me.  Finally I accepted my path, and prayed that I would “let God.”  Two weeks later I heard your voice and I smiled from my heart.  Thank you, God.

storytelling: I love you, Floyd

storytelling: I love you, Floyd

Sunday, December 30, 2012.IMG_3758

I woke up at 9am like most Sundays, walked the doggies, and started getting ready to go to church.

My church was not of an organized religion, but a circle of friends – young and old.

We would get together every Sunday, normally at Gary and Betty’s house, eat brunch, meditate, read inspirational works and discuss life.

During brunch, Gary and Betty shared with us the details of their Buddhist retreat trip in Hawaii and passed out some neat gifts they got each of us. They gave me a license plate frame that says, “I’d rather BE HERE,” from Ram Dass’ Be Here Now book and teaching.

After delighting with the company of good friends and before going home, Betty shared a poem from a book she read the night before, a poem by Hafiz, titled My Eyes So Soft.

Afterward I headed home, feeling a sense of peace and excited to install my new license plate frame.

I pulled into my col-de-sac and parked. I opened the garage door and as it rolled up, saw Floyd and EviePoe waiting for me in the house through the screen door, wagging their tails, excited to see me. I went to greet my Boxer and little Shorkie, and let them out of the house. We went to the side of the house searching through the toolbox so I could change my license plate frame.

As I was tightening the second bolt and beginning to feel good about my declaration, EviePoe started barking at a person in a wheelchair across the street. She began to run.

I yelled at her, calling for her to come back, but she was determined to bark face to face with the man in the wheelchair. Fear swelled through every part of my being, not wanting her to get hit by a car, and I started to run without thinking.

Being the obedient dog that followed me everywhere, Floyd ran too. He was a little ahead of me, about 2 feet, and as soon as we reached busy Parkside Avenue, I heard the screeching of rubber on tar and before a breath could come from my lungs, the bumper of a lifted Toyota Tacoma hit Floyd’s face and both the front and back tires ran over his body.

I never screamed and cried so hard in my life.

EviePoe was freaked out by the whole thing she was growling at the people that came near Floyd and me. Too afraid to move him, I placed my face on his and cried, asking him to let go and assuring him that I will be okay. I could hear the driver of the Tacoma apologizing and calling 911, asking what to do.

I couldn’t move away from Floyd, I couldn’t be apart from him for one second, I knew he was trying with all his might to hold on. Blood began to come from his nose and mouth, he kept gasping.  He was drowning internally, and I couldn’t stop screaming.

Someone was shaking my shoulder and I looked up into the eyes of a woman. She told me her name is Camilla and she helped me snap out of my shock and get in action. She told me to get my car and take him to the nearest animal ER.

I grabbed EviePoe and ran to my house, quickly told my family of the situation as I ran back out. I hurriedly drove my car over to the middle of the street on Parkside Avenue, grabbed Floyd and carried him to the car. I placed 70 lbs of dead weight tenderly on the back seat, explaining to him what I was doing.

I can still feel the heat from his blood all over my shirt and neck.

I started to drive to the animal ER in Chula Vista, trying to see through my swollen, tear-filled eyes, keeping control of the wheel with my shaking, bloody hands. I reached my right hand to the back seat and held his paw.

“It’s okay Floyd,” I cried, “please boy, please let go.”  At the top of my lungs, I kept begging him to stop suffering.

I got to East H Street in Chula Vista and I felt a calmness surround me. I stopped screaming and gained a composed breath.

Still squeezing his paw, I cried to him softly full of love and tears, “I am so sorry it’s all my fault. I should have known better. I should have been better. I love you. I am a better person having had you in my life. I know why you’re holding on, and I promise I’ll be okay, boy.”

I kept repeating, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His choking was ceasing, and even though I was only connected to him from my right hand to his paw, I felt his release. He left.

The sky was filled with a dark haze of clouds and it began to sprinkle.

I reached the ER, ran out of my car, open the back door and carefully took his body out. A lady with a gurney met me and I placed his bloody, lifeless body on the cold steel of the gurney, and as we went inside, the sprinkle began to transform to rain.

Inside the ER he was pronounced dead.

They let me have a room with him and told me I can stay as long as I wanted. Camila and Keith, the driver of the Tacoma, were there, making sure I was alright and apologizing for my loss.

Keith was so grief-stricken and a huge amount of guilt was on him. I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t blame you, it’s not your fault.”

Moments later my mom came running in, crying hysterically, holding the dead body of the best dog in the world, while I was trying to deal with the reality of the situation. During the next hour, my family members came to the ER to say goodbye to Floyd. He touched the heart of every single person in my family – and I was appreciative to see that.

While I stayed in the ER, my mom’s friend cleaned my entire car in the parking lot, making sure there was no blood left. Apparently, I left my car running with the keys in it, doors open.

It took me three hours to leave Floyd. By then it was late at night and the rain had stopped. My mom drove me home in my car. I felt lifeless, with the dried blood of my dog all over me. As we approached home, I saw that the rain had cleared the blood from the street.

I thanked God, knowing that the sight of Floyd’s blood on the concrete would have pulled me further into the storming depression that was forming.

I cleaned up and got into bed with EviePoe. I watched videos of Floyd on my phone and I let the tears run from my eyes. I could hear the words of Hafiz, from the poem that Betty shared today speaking to me:

Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly,
let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
as few human or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft,
my voice so tender,
my need of God absolutely clear.

I let this experience season me – praying for the gift of time, knowing that our memories can fade.

I can still see everything replay through my mind, but as time passes, the details become less vivid and the sounds less sharp. The falling of my heart becomes less painful and my eyes become less cloudy.

I know that there was only a matter of feet between EviePoe, Floyd and me. It could have been any of us that reached that street at that same time. It could have been me. But it wasn’t, it was Floyd – and I know he saved me.

thank you for allowing me to learn this on my own

For the first time, I didn’t see myself when I looked in the mirror.

I saw your eyes.
But not the ones you look at me now.
I saw the eyes that I can still remember when I was a child,
when you looked down at me and held me in your arms
when you told me everything was going to be alright
when you told me you would keep me safe from harm.

I saw your life.
The pain you endured throughout your childhood
the pain you swore your children would never feel
the pain from failing on your promise.

I saw your suffering.
From the decisions you chose to make
for running away when you thought you couldn’t handle
the insecurities you allowed yourself to create
the lack of spirit you had and couldn’t share.

I saw your confidence.
In knowing that regardless of the pain that we went through
we were all alive
somehow we made it and we still survived.

It was at this moment I saw your love.
Something I yearned for all my life.
Hoping that each time I disappointed you that you would still love me.
Hoping that if I failed that you would still support me.
Hoping that when I fall that you would lift me and hold me.

Everything I hoped for you still didn’t give.
But when I saw your love for me,
I knew in your eyes.
That you knew all along I’d be okay
you knew all along of the fire inside of me.
Because you gave it to me.

All this time I thought you kept your spirit from me.
All this time I thought what little you had you were selfish to keep for yourself.

But I was wrong.
The moment I entered this world, you sacrificed it all for me.
You gave me all of you.
Every last bit of spirit you had left from living in this world.

At this very moment, I understood.
At this very moment, when I looked in the mirror, I understood why I saw you.

You gave me all of you.

All the goodness you had left to give
All the courage you had to use
All the passion you had left inside
All the desire and drive you had left to weather through this life.

You gave me all of you.
When I see me, I see you
And now I understand.

I will still love you

There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you.

We grew up in a very conditional home.  Negative criticisms upon us for what we did and what we did not do.  We witnessed the destruction of our parents, we experienced the loss of our childhood, we both had to grow up at a young age.

When they fought, we heard it.  When they would hurt each other, we felt it.  When people would judge our family, we stood up for it.  It was ours, we owned it, we lived and breathed it, it was our home.

Now we are older than they were when we were learning to survive.

After a long day, working a job, making dinner, watching TV – we always look into the mirror before we go to sleep.  Every time we do not like what we see.  Each day we tell ourselves that tomorrow will be different – we will learn to love ourselves, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes, but we still do not like who we see.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, we see our parents.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, we remember where we come from.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, just for one second, we believe all the horrible things anyone has ever said to us and about us.

We find ourselves in the footsteps of our parents.  We find ourselves fighting, creating bruises on the flesh of those we love.  We find ourselves diving into chemical escapes.  We find ourselves striving for an eternity of rest.

We make mistakes.  Hopefully one day we can forgive ourselves.  One day, we can look into the mirror and like what we see.  Just know, that even though I struggle to love myself, even though I struggle with who I see in that reflective glass, that no matter what you do, what life you have lived and who you want to become, I will still love you.


I am tied – my hands, my ankles and my lips.  I am tied with an invisible piece of unbreakable material.  A material that has happiness at the core and wrapped around are the threads of affliction, clandestineness, consternation – all to protect the penetralia of longevity and bliss.  To support these threads are hidden wires of adamantine elements of chagrin, and covetousness.

I am unable to move – forward, backward and side-to-side.  I am unable to share the thought that emanates from my mind.  I cannot touch or fidget due to sensitivity and wounding matters.  My eyes continue to stay open, and yet I wish they were tied as well.  I witness happiness, cruelty, joy, suffering, laughter, pain… and my lips continue to stay sealed.  My hands continue to stay unstirred.  My feet remain in a locked position for dismay of falling.

I become an onlooker of aversions, of fruitlessness, of emptiness, of loss – and I am still binded.  Confused with no clarity in reach, I cannot make sense of thought and feeling.  The line which separates the right thing to do becomes blurred.  The defined person with millions of visible intricacies becomes obscurred.

Silence and separation overcome me.

To stop breathing, because you create a material so unbreakable that to destroy it, you must destroy your own happiness.