Hey pal,

It’s the first snow of November, and you happened to cross my mind. It’s nice to know you’re still kicking. I’m proud of you. You did it! You overcame the hurdles and made sure you used those boots! I know you must still be hurting from wearing them every day. I know I am. I want you to know it’s okay. Those mistakes you made helped you get to where you are right now. You shouldn’t beat yourself up so much. I’m still your best friend. There’s no need to isolate yourself. I’m glad you put the beer down and bought the house. I feel a sense of fulfillment knowing you exist. I see you in my mind every day and aspire to be you. You’re who I’ve always wanted to be when I grew up.
I’m almost 30 now, but I’m still making some of the same mistakes. You’d be proud to know I’m on my way to you and what I’ve always wanted. Thanks for being patient. I feel like I can hold your hand. I can feel your existence and the sweet aroma of what is you. You can stop trying to be perfect now. I hope you never forget this moment. It’s okay to feel that hunger to grow continuously. You strive; that’s our thing. There will always be more, but that doesn’t mean that what you have right now is less. Smell the air, bask in it. We did it. If I haven’t said it today, I love you.

Hey Heru,
I write this for you as a tribute. When I am aware that my vision is acute and I can see the tapestry of this life outstretched like so many unpacked fibers lied upon the loom of my future, you are with me. When I stride forward without consideration for the would’ves and could’ves… when I see the traumas as skinned knees and the deaths as milestones, I am with you.
This is a letter to my future self that is now, this is prayer to the falconer of my soul. I am moving steadily from that small space where we were a hurt thing that hurt things, reciting the satanic verses of self-limitation under muffled breath. I am the kid that settled for a GED, and atoned with a JD, for the sake of what could be.
This is a letter for the one who saw far. When we were a meek scrappy thing in Mosul, and then in Fallujah, you gazed above the event horizon of all the violence to the place where we are now. You tilled the fields and turned them over with no promise of what the new season would yield. I was the stone that builder refused, and you were the level and the mortar by which each of our hurts could be affixed, brick by brick to a zenith befitting your vision.
This is a letter for one that now sits astride his wisdom, surrounded by beautiful progeny that he can send back to his daughters as grandfathers do, whenever he sees fit. This is for the etched lines around those eyes, and the deep marks around the mouth, emblematic of the smiling done long after the work had been done. This is written to you in tribute…
I used to see you in the mirror when I was scrawny enough to see my own heartbeat through my ribcage, muscular and tall. I only hoped I would be able to be you, and that hope did turn round (as hope does) and beckon to me through the pain and struggle until I realized in stalwart fashion that I had no choice…I am you. I look back from where you are even now and I see what must be done to be where you are, and I am grateful.
I thank you for being the one that looks at my scars and smiles at the memory of how they got there. I thank you for lording over me when I though about quitting, screaming frothy mouthed obscenities at me when I laid down to die. I thank you for letting me feel the sun on my face whenever I survived something that brought me close to death…my future self.
This letter really wasn’t as epiphanel as I had supposed it would be, and I am glad that you are there in the arc where the light hits the land. I am glad that I see further each day and disregard the things in my direct footfall, it assures me that I will be you some day…Heru.

Eternally you,
B

It is more important
To be calm and collected
So that you could look
At your reflection
Feeling satisfied.
You see
Honesty, modesty and curiosity.
While seeking for answers
Hidden in plain sight,
And solutions as to how
To perceive and proceed
This journey of life
We have graciously entered.

Is it happenstance or is it kismet?

Remain unassuming and relentless, 
as you’re most times unconscious
To the truth that you’re the chosen one,
To pave your own path,
Realize you have the ability to
Walk to the beat of your own drum.
Go on with your wild,
Conspicuous and curious mind
Explore the adventure of a lifetime.
Addicted to adrenaline
Whilst you remain calm and collected.
It’s all ok as long as you
Can look in the mirror 
And be satisfied
With the person you’ve chosen to become.
What’s more important than being seen
Is how you made them feel.
Sensitive and sensible creatures we are
Although some I’d like to question.
Embrace the chaos
But do not dwell in your mind
Attached to nothing,
Yet open to anything
Will get you to places few have seen.
Pick people up and leave imprints on those
You have to leave behind.
You carry the burden
From the womb to the world.
Realize that it’s not a burden,
Only a great responsibility
Wherein lies your power.
Not for control but for figuring out
That you really have no control
Over the chaos, confusion, delusion
We all live in.
Just dance and make light
As life is a mirror
And we are here to create
The best versions of ourselves
You are the image
With an indomitable spirit.

You will get lost
As explorers usually do,
I only ask that you
Stay true to you.

One day it’ll all make sense
Looking backwards
You’ll see that all
Will be in place
In a matter of time.
Only then, looking into the wake of your life

Will you understand.

I know I haven’t been the kindest to you,
But it’s hard to be nice when everyone leaves, it’s true.
The ones who stick around often use and abuse,
And there’s no one around to believe your own cues.

I’ve heard you cry alone, serenading your pain,
In the solitude of night, tears falling like rain.
I know your kind heart’s been played and tossed away,
Scared to get close, fearing they won’t stay.

You’ve longed for friends, been afraid to be alone,
Reaching out to figures, only to hear “Give it to God” thrown.
You have dreams, beautiful and grand,
But thought they were out of reach, hard to understand.

Questions echo in your mind as you lay in your bed,
You try to fit in, be ‘normal,’ but that’s not where you’re led.
You know you’re not meant to fit in a box or conform,
You understand this truth better than I do, I’m informed.

I know your pain because I am you, you see,
How did you reach the point where dreams become reality?
How did you conquer trauma and give it to God’s care?
Do you still fake smiles, or is happiness your daily fare?

I have countless questions on how we turned out to be,
In the entertainment industry, living our dream so free.
How did you make connections and break the stuck slump?
Did you hit rock bottom again, to rise and jump?

How did you become that beautiful, confident queen,
Running the world, living life with a sheen?
I’ll follow your path, working on my own trauma’s release,
Striving for success, following your footsteps with peace.

What’s it like to be in a movie, to fulfill that dream?
To captivate the audience, make your scenes gleam.
You walk onto the set, nerves brushed aside,
Lines memorized, emerging in character with pride.

I can picture you watching the screen with delight,
Seeing yourself in character, a stunning sight.
Feeling alive, the rush I remember from the stage,
On the theater’s boards, where we found solace in our age.

How does it feel to write a song, as we’ve always wished?
Are the lyrics healing, just as we envisioned and commenced?
Creating melodies and raw, emotional lyrics with grace,
Helping those who listen find solace in the chase.

In the studio with a notebook, melodies flowing free,
Crafting lyrics that heal and set hearts wild and free.
When the song’s released, it touches those in need,
Healing their hurt, fulfilling our musical creed.

How does it feel to write a script, a story to tell?
Are the cues, set design, costumes, all working well?
The characters, casting, do they fit the role just right?
Are they committed, taking their roles to new heights?

You’ve written a script, brainstorming with your crew,
Perfectly, it flows, all thanks to the creative few.
Casting and crew, a harmonious, well-oiled machine,
Creating magic on screen, a masterpiece, it’s seen.

How does it feel to direct a movie, to see it all through?
Are cast and crew taking you seriously, as they should do?
Does everything come together, better than you imagined?
Seeing your vision on the screen, so skillfully aligned.

And your first book, how does it feel to have it published?
Is it as we dreamed, the dream we’ve always cherished?
Do our books help people, leaving a lasting mark?
How do we come up with plots, making them spark?

The final draft finished, nervous and anxious in your seat,
Hoping it succeeds and sells, making your dream complete.
Impacting lives, touching hearts as we’ve always yearned,
With each word, each page, a story beautifully learned.

Helping small businesses take off, are we mastering that?
Getting more confident, less tongue-tied as you chat?
Are we helping them thrive with the resources in our hand?
Is the studio a success, as grand as we had planned?

You save small businesses, bringing in the big bucks,
Gratitude in their faces, their relief, it struck.
Moving on to bigger and better things, oh so bright,
Becoming a better businesswoman, reaching new heights.

How’s our ministry going, and the blogs we create?
Are they bringing people closer to God, their faith to elevate?
Are they healing from traumas, learning to love themselves?
Equipping them with tools, and wisdom that compels.

Blogs filled with love, merchandise to match the theme,
Devotional booklets on life issues, like a sunbeam.
Exposing trauma, turning lives around for the best,
Blessing people’s lives, helping them find rest.

Lastly, how’s our mental health, the battle we’ve faced?
Do low self-esteem, anxiety, and depression still interlaced?
Is self-hate and suicidal thoughts still in the fight?
Or have we conquered them, emerging into the light?

Is fear of rejection, abandonment, and loneliness still near?
Or have we conquered those too, dispelling the fear?
Are we the fearless queen we fantasize in our mind?
Taking each step with confidence, leaving the past behind?

Are we actually happy, surrounded by solid friends,
No longer used and tossed aside in the end?
Do we still enjoy the things we love right now,
And have we finally sought therapy, learning how?

I can picture it like this, a future that’s so bright,
Moving out, finding a side job to pay bills, a temporary light.
The studio flourishing, marketing, graphic design in the flow,
Climbing the ladder of success, your career’s grand show.

Landing roles in shows, gaining popularity with grace,
Writing scripts, directing, creating in your creative space.
A future so promising, fulfilling dreams with glee,
I’m excited for you, for me, for what’s to be.

Man, what dream
No, that’s my destined reality
That is the ideal me.

Hey there Higher Self,
Have you placed yourself back on the highest shelf?
Aware of all the life lived below you?
Have you practiced self help?
Or redefined yourself ?
And have you allowed yourself to step into all your glory?
It’s nice to talk to you.
And see that you’ve made your dreams come true
Past the mundane, the afraid, and the judgement
I see how hard you work
And how you get up when it hurts
Because you know your spirit within is what guides you
You try everyday to be your very best
You have goals you have set
And some you have & haven’t met
But never do you let them deter you
There are things you have to learn from
And lessons.. you ought to earn some
Before you can trek on to what’s before you.
It’s all in Gods timing
So just keep on grinding
Because this best you will be something un-defining
So don’t give up, or beat yourself up
For this is something exciting.
A chance to create
A chance to escape all the things you left behind you!

Dear Carolyn-Jean,

It’s getting very difficult to feel proud of myself. Former classmates ask me what I’ve been up to since graduating, and it takes me about three and a half seconds to answer that question with a “Not much”, that I push out as blithe as my conscience allows me too. Then I sit there, listening to them talk about new friends they’ve made, new places they’ve visited, these absolutely beautiful narratives they are creating for themselves with the newfound freedom of adulthood. I smile and congratulate them on their success, but I worry the envy is starting to unveil itself from underneath my expressions of admiration.
People who know me well, know that this isn’t where I wanted to be in this point in time. I talked big talk, filled with optimism and ambition. I wanted to be in Italy or Denmark, fulfilling my dreams of studying abroad through a program that I was more than ready to apply for. But now I gaze through the screen of my phone and view the photos and videos my peers post from their travels. It was my dream, and they’re living it. And that is a really difficult thing to sit with.
I was an incredibly grateful and content person, but I now feel myself overflowing with anger and jealousy, and it makes me feel even sicker than I already am. Did the universe think I was underserving of the future I desired so badly? Is this what I deserve? A body that’s cemented to tired familiarity and routine. A body that’s rejecting everything. Food, medicine, sleep. Have I been deemed undeserving of those things as well?
How is it that you no longer find yourself lying awake, during the nights of insufferable pain and nausea, circling that question in your head? You can look at someone who is abled bodied and achieving things you once dreamed of achieving and feel nothing but joy for that person.
It’s because you’ve shut down the comparison game. All the anger you felt towards your illness has been tranquilized by the act of accepting your illness and appreciating the aspects of your life that have been improved since getting diagnosed with an auto immune disease.
You no longer let your fear of sickness get in the way of anything you want to do. You take chances. You started going to festivals and concerts again, because you trust your body and the signs that it gives you. You make plans with people that you didn’t get to see much the year you were really sick. But you’ve also learned how important it is to find people who make an effort to understand your illness. You no longer feel guilty for having to drop out of plans at the last minute because of a flare up. Or for having to leave commitments early due to medication side effects making your body feel foreign. The people in your life have more understanding and grace for you than you ever thought was possible.
You have also developed more grace and understanding for yourself and your body. Understanding that there are things about the physical appearance of your body that you cannot change due to your illness and having to relearn how to be okay with the new appearance of a body you worked so hard to keep healthy. I tell myself that there are things out of my control, and I need to accept that. But I find that somedays I am still far from fully believing that.
When explaining all my emotions towards my illness to people, I have found myself coming back to the emotion of grief. This has confused some people, but not those who are also managing a chronic illness. They understand how painful it is to grieve things as little as favorite foods that we can no longer eat, to grieving the immense loss of the reality where my body would be able to sustain a pregnancy. It all feels like I am grieving the loss of a life that I haven’t even lived yet. But the fact that it is isn’t attainable anymore, causes enough frustration to begin grieving.
One day I won’t have to long for the life that I dream of having, because I’ll be able to be content in the one I am living inside of this body that’s been given to me. Our body that is teaching me so much about perseverance, optimism, resilience, and how to be grateful for every little moment of peace that shows me that I am still more than deserving of an incredible future.

To the future that awaits,

Carolyn-Jean Cox

I Like My Coffee How I Like Myself
By Ingrid Pujol

I held a cup in my right hand
As the night left my eyes
And my mind painted a land
Where the darkness can’t survive.
In the window danced the light
With the clouds’ milky whites,
And the green behind the glass
Looked like fine sugar grass.
My cup was almost empty,
But I knew there was still plenty
Of newer flavors to brew;
I craved for the many tastes
Of those sweeter and softer moods.
Within view I found a bookshelf
And picked a volume that read:
“Selected Letters to My Ideal Self.”
I poured myself some more coffee,
And this time I was a thief
That stole the milk from the clouds
And fine sugars from the green.
My eyes walked through the pages
With the grace and pace of a queen,
But the thoughts couldn’t find a throne
Where to rest the mug and sip.
The bottom of my cup looked old,
As old as the stories we are told;
I spilled the coffee and brewed my own
In the kitchen of that place I call home.
In the left corner my heart wrote:
“If I were to be reborn,
Your coffee wouldn’t be dark nor strong,
It would be sweeter, light and soft
And through your veins it would run
Down to this place you call home;
What you feed me, you become.
The story is this simple and short.”
I walked back to the old bookshelf
Where I fed softness to the strong;
An overflowing cup with a new look
Rested on the pages of the reddest book,
Between brown stains, brown eyes read:
“I Like My Coffee How I Like Myself.”

I have this memory from when I was seven years old. I was crying in front of my orange and white Fisher-Price doll house. I couldn’t understand why I felt this void in my chest, why my sister and my parents got along the best. I got tired of playing make-believe. I put all my hope into a dollhouse that I wished would come to life. With the trope of a perfect family, where love was more than just implied. Where my presence wasn’t a burden, where the sound of an opening garage door didn’t make me nervous. And I put all my hope in a Cinderella song, where a wish is more powerful than a knight. So through smoke surrounded hope, I threw my lifeline of dreams to the sky, and the summer breeze let them coast to a place where teardrops make starlights. I prayed that the sky would read the salt in my tears, my hope despite my fear, and my deep longing to be anywhere but here. And I ached and I ached until I put all my hope in a God I didn’t know. I begged him to read the glaze in my eyes, and clutched the hole where love should reside
before I asked him why I felt so confined. Shouldn’t a home feel safe inside? He gave me solace, in the quiet of night, and said my house lacked a home, a room for my soul.

So I’ve dreamed of growing old since I was seven. Dreamed of a place, so peaceful it could be heaven, where my feet could run and jump and dance, without playing a weighty game of chance. My smile would be a blooming bouquet and in the breeze, my fears would drift away. But at the end of the day, I was seven. I was crying along in my room in front of my orange and white Fisher-Price doll house, begging whoever in the universe was listening to grow me up. I begged them to have mercy on my young and tired eyes, begged them to let me leave this house of lies.

So since then, I’ve longed for the day when I can finally pack up and say,

“I’m going to find my home, the place where I can be me, and I can be known.”

My best self is truly joyful
Not letting the little things bother
Live with ease
Proceed with caution
Not everyone has pure intentions
Stop giving to those whom don’t give back
Don’t Stress on situations you can’t control
Be you
No matter what
Don’t let anyone change the woman you have become
You’ve come such a long way
Through pain in the past
To get you where you are now
You are Poet
You are a Singer
You are a true writer
Here’s to sharing your story with the world
Using your words and melody
Smiling even though you’re hurting
This growth i see
This Vision
Our Journey is here
It’s Ours
Patience is key
Persistence is needed
Be Consistent
You are no longer distant
You are me
We are one
Us as one will become
Everything we dreamed of
In time we will see
What it takes to
Express me

Dear my Ideal Self,
I hear you no longer accept fear cradling you comfortably in what you already know. Rumor has it anxiety no longer serves you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You’ve shed it like a dead coat to reveal a set of silky new feathers. Like the last evolution in the zodiac of the scorpio you have become the phoenix. What is it like to be the best version of an ever growing self? Can you guide me there like a shepherd to water? I am willing to be uncomfortable on the journey just to taste a new life. You no longer wield anger around freely. You have learned the ego is a trickster and has no value on the weight of our inner self. That being so careless with hate can damage the people who care for you deeply. You have mastered letting it go because this is your human experience. It doesn’t benefit you to hold it so close as if there is nothing else in this life to use as fuel. What does it feel like to have a grand drive carried by joy and passion? You have found the secret and understand you are enough regardless of any external factors. Loving yourself so fondly you decide everyday is another blessing to spend creating something to fill your spirit. Your soul is the house you’ve always imagined and the lights are on most of the time. Tell me, my ideal self… What is it like to feel sadness greatly but know you will recover? You have the coping skills to nurse yourself well despite the unexpected blows of mortal existence. What is it like to stand so firm at the core of one’s being? You have much knowledge but know you do not know it all. There is a grand prize for having let go trying to manipulate everything towards your desire. The universe knows what you need and does not care for what you want. Gracefully you act on as well as listen to the lessons that have been set in this life. My ideal self oh how I now understand she has been with me all of this time. Flourishing everyday into an amazing human being and I accept my challenges with open palms. I am marvelous in all my forms and worthy of love. I just keep growing and that to me is ideal.

The ideal version of me is not a dream or destination, but more so a decision.
She is the woman I am now and the woman I will be.
She is not a woman I have to write to, but remember and reimagine.
You see, the state of being ideal is situational.
It’s not a suit you slide on eventually.
Ideal you is not your spic and span version,
But the one with speckles of flaws and beams of beauty.
She is not only present when triumph is.
She is there during the tribulations.
I never want to feed myself the illusion that the ideal me only exists in the future
which I reach via a time traveling machine.
She is available now for me to meet..
To touch,
To get to know.
I don’t have to reach for her, I just have to remember and reimagine her.
Remember what ideal looks like now,
Reimagine what ideal looks like in 20 years.
It’s not that I oppose delayed gratification,
It’s that I am full of gratitude for the ideal versions of me that have come and gone.
That already exist(ed).
The versions of me that have shape shifted to carry me through various seasons of life.
The ideal version of me is not something I inherit.
My human defects don’t have to die for me to step into me, ideally.
There will always be room to grow.
There will always be something to fix.
So I’ll be her currently and eventually.
I’ll take risks, I’ll self correct,
I’ll love and reflect.
I’ll have faith, I’ll utilize my discernment.
I’ll be frugal with my energy.
I’ll be wise with what I ingest.
I’ll be flawed and I’ll mess up.
I’ll come back with my mop of accountability
I’ll clean up my spills.
I’ll accept that I will never be perfect because I will forever be human.
Ideally, that is me.
A woman full of understanding,
with a deep knowledge of myself, this life, on this Earth.
Ideally, my soul introduces itself before you hear me speak.
Ideally, I leap to live my life despite the dark and gut wrenching fears that try to shackle me to idea of being safe in familiarity.
To be ideal is to be iridescent,
A spectrum of beautiful moments that depend on
the angle you look at them.
If there were a yearbook of each year of my existence,
I’d find it’d be signed “Me, ideally”.
Because ideal me made an appearance each year.
Even the years I hated,
Even the years that hurt.
Even if she didn’t stay, she came and visited me.
All of it is me.
And truthfully,
what is more ideal than accepting yourself in totality even if you’ve been broken into pieces?
But even more importantly,
accepting yourself in totality….Today.

You are a man who:
wears his beard fully,
not because he’s handsome but because uncle sam, doesn’t have a say anymore

A man who embraces that hint of wild man that he is

A man in the woods, only answering to the birds call

A man who knows not the name of every tree but all of their essence

A man who isn’t afraid of alarms anymore

A man whose son’s friends all want to meet

A man no longer confined by garmets who tried to garnish Vietnamese farmers

A man who travels the word sharing his love for poetry, enticing others to write their own story

He doesn’t care how sad or boring,
this man wants to illuminate a safe space for your allegory,

Because on any given day, your words may save someone’s life

A man grounded in the Earth
A man who doesnt fidget and twitch because his back doesn’t hurt

A man who doesn’t get anxiety between 5 and 6 PM anymore

A man that doesn’t lash out when he’s challenged by a loved one

A man who takes a deep belly breath each time

A man who’s presence alone makes people feel better about themselves

A man who’s wife always feel safe in his arms

A man that takes those wanting to fly, under his wing

A man….
that I think I’m
Pretty close to actualizing

Beloved Ideal Self,

As I write this, I find myself in the midst of my chemotherapy treatments. It’s the fifth one out of a total of eighteen. Sitting here in seat eleven, with its lucky view of the beautiful Burbank mountains, I can’t help but think of you. I envision you as someone who is healed, happy, and radiantly beautiful. You possess a deep wisdom that I have yet to discover. The kind of wisdom earned by a warrior.

There are still thirteen more infusion treatments to undergo, along with two major surgeries and radiation treatments, before I can reach the point where I become a cancer-free survivor like you. As a Stage 3 Triple Negative Breast Cancer patient, the distance between us feels vast. However, these past ten weeks of living with cancer have taught me a profound lesson in forgiveness. A lesson I wouldn’t trade for anything.

None of us are guaranteed a long and healthy life, and yet we often take it for granted. For so long, I held onto anger towards the people I love. Now, I understand that our purpose on this earth is simply to love and forgive one another. And so, I have forgiven them all – those who have caused us pain. I have even forgiven myself for the actions I took to survive. I now realize that it was these burdens that gave rise to this cancer. I have released them all, not just for my own healing, but also so that one day, I can become you. So that you never have to go through this again.

From this vantage point on the fourth floor infusion center, I can see a greater perspective. I see the struggles and pain that each person, even those who have hurt me, go through. It fills me with compassion and empathy. I send them love from here and believe that our world needs more care and understanding for each other’s pain. We place unrealistic standards upon ourselves and others, which can never truly be met.

I can see you now. You are wise, strong and beautiful. You help other people find their way toward forgiveness. You help them find the way to put their burdens down. You show them how beautiful forgiveness is so they can feel the peace it brings wash over them without having to pay in suffering.

In my journey towards becoming you, I have learned the importance of forgiveness and the power of love. I hold nothing but gratitude for the lessons cancer brought me. They were lessons I desperately needed to learn. I stand with my arms open wide, welcoming the lessons that have yet to come. I hope to continue growing closer to you, my Ideal Self, with each passing day.

With all the love in the world,

Katie C’etta

Dear Jordan Taylor Bradford,

I have always wanted to be unapologetically myself
And I would say I was,
Yet I would find myself apologizing for existing

Apologizing and resisting
Doing what I truly wanted
What my heart of hearts yearned for

I want to be famous, and myself

You are a household name
I want to be like you,
I want everything I have to be earned
To put all the years of school
and life lessons I learned

To positive use
to make a legendary impact
to inspire future and former generations alike
to follow their dreams
and keep their heart intact

Dropping out of grad school
wasn’t a waste.
While it drained my finances,
it makes me who I am today:
someone whose heart dances
with joy and delight, rage and depression alike

Excitement, obsession, and envy despite
Being so magnificently me
So powerful on my own
Even more so when I’m not alone

I am beautiful and strong –
Words I vehemently denied for so long

I want to be ethereal like you
So delicate and seemingly too light to be true

I am well on my way
to becoming Myself today
I eat for energy and happiness
which is a long way
from the darkest depths of my eating disorders
That I am overcoming each day

I indulge in
the meditative and physical aspects of yoga
as privileges, rather than
“must-do tasks”

Because it is an honour
that I get to ask
My body to take a breath,
take a break

I am *mostly*
no longer someone I hate
I am like you,
I am whole and real

When I feel my feelings,
I mean I really FEEL

and that makes my heart happy
Along my journey to heal

Love,
Jor