Evil is not an entity. It is not a being, nor a force that moves on its own. It does not float through the universe, waiting to strike. Evil is born. And it is born inside us—not as something separate but as something we create, shape, and give life to through emotions we fail to control, thoughts we refuse to confront, and actions we justify in moments of weakness.

At the root of every evil act, you will find a wounded emotion—someone betrayed, angered, humiliated, or broken. In that moment of pain, they make a choice. A choice that carries weight. A choice that alters reality.

The Role of Emotions in the Birth of Evil

Emotions are tools, nothing more. They are meant to guide us, like a compass navigating the currents of life. But just like fire, they can either warm and illuminate or burn and destroy. And here lies the truth: Evil is never born from happiness. It is a byproduct of suffering.

A person who is happy, at peace, and fulfilled naturally makes choices that align with harmony. It is rare—almost impossible—for a truly happy person to intentionally harm someone. Evil does not breed in joy. It breeds in pain.

Pain clouds judgment, poisons logic, and blinds the spirit. It convinces a person that destruction is justified, that revenge is righteous, that cruelty is strength. Pain is the doorway where evil enters.

Think about it:

• When does a man decide to kill? When his anger, fear, or jealousy blinds him.
• When does a woman decide to destroy? When betrayal, bitterness, or grief consumes her.
• When does a child become cruel? When their suffering teaches them that cruelty is power.

Pain fuels destruction. And the greater the pain, the stronger the reaction. This is why when a person is deeply hurt, their immediate decisions are almost never rational. Their actions come from raw emotion, not thought.

Now, some will ask: What about those who are born evil? The ones who harm without reason? The ones who kill without provocation?

The answer is simple: No one is born evil. But some are programmed to become it.

The Generational Cycle of Evil

Some people do not need pain to be cruel. They do not need betrayal to deceive, nor loss to destroy. Their actions seem driven by something deeper, something instinctual. But even they are not born evil. They are programmed into it.

• A child raised in chaos learns chaos as truth.
• A mind exposed to cruelty accepts cruelty as normal.
• A soul deprived of love forgets what love feels like.

This is how evil moves through generations—not as an inherent trait, but as a repeated pattern. The sins of the past embed themselves in the present, rewriting the mind before it has a chance to form independently.

And unless broken, this pattern continues, spreading like a disease across bloodlines, across civilizations, across time itself.

Yet, there is always a choice. Always.

No programming is absolute. No destiny is fixed. Even the deepest darkness can be undone—but only by those who see it. And this is why most do not change—because they do not recognize the chains they wear.

The Illusion of Justified Evil

Here is where things get dangerous: Most people who commit evil do not believe they are doing wrong.

Evil does not announce itself. It does not say, I am destruction. Instead, it whispers:

• I am justice.
• I am necessary.
• I am right.

No one believes they are the villain in their own story.

• The man who seeks revenge believes he is delivering justice.
• The leader who oppresses people believes he is securing order.
• The woman who manipulates others believes she is protecting herself.

This is the great deception—evil rarely sees itself as evil.

When emotion controls the mind, logic bends to fit its desires. And when logic bends, reality distorts—a distortion where cruelty becomes necessary, where harm becomes justified, where destruction becomes an act of self-righteousness.

The greatest evils in history were not committed by people who thought they were wrong. They were committed by those who believed they were right.

But the truth is simple:

If your pain is controlling your decisions, you are not in control. You are being controlled.

How to Break Free from the Cycle of Evil

If emotions give birth to evil, then the only way to fight evil is to master emotions.

Not to suppress them—not to pretend they don’t exist—but to understand them and use them wisely.

1. Recognize your triggers. What emotions make you react instantly without thinking?
2. Pause before action. The biggest mistakes in life happen because people act in the heat of emotion. Learn to wait. Learn to breathe.
3. Detach from the illusion of control. Many people act out of pain because they feel powerless. But power does not come from controlling others—it comes from controlling yourself.
4. Rewrite your programming. If your bloodline has a history of destruction, it is up to you to end it. Awareness is the first step. Choice is the second. Action is the third.
5. Do not trust your emotions in the moment of pain. If you make decisions while you are hurt, angry, or afraid, you are handing your power to the very thing you are trying to escape.

Final Thought: The Truth About Evil

Evil is not a monster hiding in the dark. It is not an external force waiting to attack.

It is simply what happens when emotion overpowers wisdom.

No one is born evil.

But anyone can become it.

The question is—who is in control? You or your emotions?

You Discover to Recover .
Life is not about waking up, working, eating, and sleeping. It is not about surviving day by day without questioning why you are here. Life is a journey of self-discovery. It is about peeling back everything that has been placed upon you—your name, your culture, your beliefs—and finding out who you truly are.  
Many people go through life lost, not because they are incapable, but because they have never taken the time to discover themselves. They live based on the expectations of their parents, society, religion, and culture, never realizing that all of these things are external influences. But the truth is,  you are more than your identity. We must awaken to the realization that we are not just physical beings, but spiritual entities, connected to the universe and all its wonders. This journey of self-discovery is the foundation upon which we build our lives, and it’s crucial that we grasp these fundamental concepts to unlock our full potential and fulfill our divine purpose. You must  discover yourself to recover from all the confusion, limitations, and doubts that the world has placed upon you. Only when you truly know yourself can you live a meaningful life. This journey is about unlearning what you thought was you and stepping into the truth of who you really are.
1: Who Are You? (Beyond Your Name and Identity)
The first step in self-discovery is asking:  Who am I? 
Most people believe they are their name, their nationality, or their religion. But if you remove those things, what is left? Who were you before you were given a name? Who were you before you were taught to think a certain way? The truth is, you are not your identity—you are the one experiencing the identity.  You are not your body—you are the one inside the body. You are not your thoughts—you are the one  watching the thoughts. As we delve deeper into our inner world, we’ll discover that our true essence is not just a physical body, but a multidimensional being, consisting of body, mind, and spirit. We are a spark of the divine, a droplet of the infinite ocean, and our true nature is connected to the universe and all its wonders. We must discover who we are, what we stand for, and what our values and principles are.
How to Discover Who You Truly Are
1. Question everything. Why do you believe what you believe? Did you choose it, or was it given to you?  
2. Spend time alone. Without distractions, you begin to hear your own voice.  
3. Observe yourself.  Notice your emotions, your habits, and your instincts. They tell you more about yourself than words ever can.  
4. Listen to your intuition.  Deep inside, you already know who you are. The problem is, the world has silenced that voice.  
Once you begin to separate yourself from the labels placed upon you, you will start to feel lighter because you are returning to your true self.  
Step 2: Where Are You? (Understanding Your Environment)
Once you know who you are, the next question is:  Where are you?  Not just physically, but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.  
Your environment is not just the place you live—it is everything around you that shapes your mind. The people you talk to, the beliefs you hold, the energy that surrounds you—all of these things influence your growth. By recognizing our place in the world, we can begin to appreciate the complexities and nuances of our existence. We are not separate from the world around us, but an integral part of it. We are connected to the earth, the air, the water, and the fire, and our actions have a profound impact on the delicate balance of nature. We must understand our role in the world, our responsibilities, and our contribution to the greater good.
How to Discover Where You Are
1. Look at your surroundings. Are they helping you grow or keeping you trapped?  
2. Pay attention to your emotions. Do you feel free, or do you feel stuck?  
3. Check your energy.  Are you in a place where your true self can thrive, or are you just surviving?  
A seed planted in the wrong soil will never grow. The same applies to humans. If you are in an environment that limits your mind, you will never evolve. Sometimes, the only way to truly discover yourself is to change where you are. If your surroundings do not support your growth, you must seek out a new space—mentally, emotionally, or even physically.  
Step 3: Why Are You Here? (Discovering Your Life Purpose)
This is the question that separates those who live with meaning from those who simply exist:  Why are you here? No  one is here by accident. Every soul that enters this world has a purpose, a role to play in the grand design of the universe. But most people never find their purpose because they never ask the right questions. Your purpose is not just about having a job or making money. It is about what you give to the world, what you  create,  what you  build. It is about the energy you bring to others and the mark you leave behind. We must discover our mission, our vision, and our reason for being. This self-awareness will guide us to live a life that is authentic, meaningful, and help us fulfill our divine purpose.
How to Discover Your Purpose 
1. Look at what excites you. What do you love doing, even when no one is watching?  
2. Pay attention to what people come to you for.  What do others naturally seek your help with?  
3. Think about what challenges you’ve overcome. Your greatest struggles often prepare you for your greatest purpose.  
4. Listen to your inner voice.  What is that one thing you’ve always felt called to do?  
Purpose is not something you find—it is something you uncover.  It has always been inside you, waiting for you to remember it.  
The Truth About Life
Many people search for meaning in books, religions, and other people. But the truth is,  the answers you seek are already inside you. The problem is, most people are too distracted to listen. Life is not about waiting for something to happen. It is about actively discovering who you are, where you are, and why you are here. Because the moment you answer these three questions,  everything changes. You stop living in fear. You stop following the crowd. You stop searching for validation. As we navigate this journey, we’ll encounter various spiritual principles that will guide us on our path. We’ll discover the law of attraction, the power of intention, and the importance of mindfulness. We’ll learn to cultivate gratitude, compassion, and forgiveness, and we’ll understand the value of living in the present moment
You become  who you were always meant to be.  
So start today. Discover yourself. And in doing so, recover the life you were meant to live.

A Reflection on Existence

The concept of the  future is one of the greatest deceptions ever accepted by the human mind. We are taught from childhood to believe in it, to chase it, to plan for it, as if it is something real, something tangible, something awaiting us. But the truth is, the future does not exist.  It never has. It is nothing more than a thought, a projection of the mind that keeps us distracted from the only thing that has ever truly existed:  the present moment.

We live under the illusion of time, dividing it into past, present, and future, as if these are separate realities when in truth,  they are all the same. There is no past. There is no future. There is only NOW Whatever you call the past was once  NOW. Whatever you call the future will only ever arrive as NOW. So what, then, is the difference? There is none.

The Deception of Time
Human beings have created clocks, calendars, and timelines to measure existence, but energy, the very essence of life, does not move in a straight line. It is not bound by beginning or end. It simply  IS Everything you have ever been, everything you will ever be, already exists within you right now. Time is not a force of nature; it is a mental construct, a tool designed to help us function within this three-dimensional world. But a tool is not reality.  

We deceive ourselves into believing that the future holds something different, something more, something greater. “One day, I will be happy.” “One day, I will have everything I need.” “One day, I will understand.” But that  one day never comes. Because whenever it does, it is no longer the future, it is just another NOW If you cannot enjoy something now, you will never enjoy it at all.  

What About the Past?
If there is no future, does that mean there is no past? Yes. Because past and future are two sides of the same illusion. The past is nothing more than a memory, a story we tell ourselves, shaped by perception, colored by emotion. It does not exist outside of our minds. Just like the future, it is a projection. We say, This happened, but all that truly exists is our remembrance of it right now.

And yet, everything is energy. Energy is not born, nor does it die,it simply changes form. It has no beginning, no end, and no direction. If something has no origin and no destination, how can it have a past or a future? It cannot. The only reality is the infinite unfolding of energy, experienced through the limited perception of human consciousness.  

The Purpose of Human Existence
So why are we here? Why this world, this experience? Because Earth is a gathering place for energy. Everything you see, everything you touch, everything you ARE it is all energy, interacting, reflecting, learning from itself. You do not know yourself without me, just as I do not know myself without you. Our existence is defined by the presence of others.

Humanity is not just a species, it is a  stage in consciousness. A temporary phase, a learning process. When our understanding of this world is complete, when we have taken all we need from this form, we transcend. We evolve into something else, something higher, something more refined. Perhaps an angel, perhaps a god, perhaps something beyond even our current imagination.  

But the transition is not automatic. The energy you cultivate here determines what you become next. You could ascend into higher consciousness, or you could descend into something darker. A monster, a lost spirit, a force trapped in endless cycles of confusion. The choice is yours, shaped by the awareness you develop while in this body.  

The Only Truth
So if the future does not exist, and the past is only a memory, what is left?  

Only THIS; This moment, this breath, this feeling. The only purpose, the only true responsibility we have, is to make this existence meaningful. Not by waiting for the future, not by being trapped in the past, but by understanding  the now. Because this is all there is, and all there will ever be.  

William Joseph

To those who seek silence,  

There is a belief—a fragile, deceptive belief—that somewhere, somehow, quietness exists. That if one escapes far enough, buries themselves deep enough in solitude, or stills their mind with enough discipline, they will finally find it. But the truth is, quietness is an illusion. You will never know this until you become quiet yourself.  

The moment you sit in what you think is silence, you realize—there is no such thing. The world hums, vibrates, whispers beneath its breath. The wind murmurs through the trees. The walls creak as if sighing under the weight of time. Even your own body, the very thing you seek to still, betrays you—the steady rhythm of your breath, the pulsing of your blood, the subtle ringing in your ears that you had never noticed before.  Even in the most desolate places, there is sound.

And yet, in the modern world, we are so flooded with distractions that we do not even recognize the absence of quietness.  Noise has become our default state. The endless hum of technology, the constant barrage of notifications, the artificial voices that demand our attention—these things do not just fill space, they erase our ability to perceive true presence.  Social media, smartphones, and the digital world have not just taken our attention; they have stolen our ability to experience memory in its purest form. When noise never stops, reflection never begins.  

Memory itself is tied to quietness. True recollection happens in stillness, in the absence of external noise. But how can one remember when they are never still? How can one reflect when their mind is constantly being filled with artificial chatter? The ability to be alone with one’s thoughts has become a lost art, drowned beneath the never-ending stream of information.  

And what of death? If one cannot find quietness in life, can they find it in death? Perhaps not. For even then, the soul is energy, and  energy never truly rests. Frequency exists beyond the physical, and who is to say that the afterlife is not just another form of vibration, another realm of sound beyond what we can perceive? Silence, true silence, may not even belong to the dead.  

So, if quietness is an illusion, what is left?  Awareness. To recognize that you will never escape sound, that you will never truly silence the world, but that in understanding this, you can choose which sounds you allow into your mind. You can choose to hear yourself beyond the noise. And maybe, just maybe, that is as close as we will ever come to quietness.

William Joseph

There was a time when she felt completely lost, like a stranger to her own reflection. The weight of pain, fear, and self-doubt had buried her true self so deeply that she didn’t realize how much of herself she had been hiding. The healing process wasn’t something she sought out intentionally—it began as a means of survival, her life suddenly impacted by a single event that forced her to step into the depths of the unknown.

At first, healing felt like unraveling the shredded pieces of her life. She was forced to confront parts of herself she didn’t want to face: the hurt, the anger, and the pieces she believed were irreparably broken, including her passion for changing lives with the sound of her voice. It was messy and uncomfortable, but it was also a raw and honest journey. Slowly, she began to understand that those broken pieces weren’t something to be ashamed of—they were stepping stones to rediscovering who she truly was and who she was becoming as she waded into the deep.

What surprised her most was realizing the strength she already carried within her soul. She found her healing in the most difficult spaces. For so long, she thought she needed to be “fixed,” but the truth was, she simply needed to reconnect with herself. Each moment of reflection, forgiveness, and growth became a step toward reclaiming the person she was always meant to be.

She was undefined by a diagnosis. Her worth, identity, and potential were not confined or limited by any medical diagnosis or label attached to her spiritual garments. She found the strength to whisper to her reflection, “I am more than my condition, and it does not define who I am.”

It was about rejecting labels that boxed her in and instead embracing the complexity and depth of who she was beyond what any diagnosis might suggest. She declared to the world a powerful affirmation: “Thank you for the medical jargon, but this time, I’ll write my own story—one that mandates new ABILITIES!”

There were days when it all felt overwhelming, but those were the moments she learned to lean into kindness—especially toward herself. She found joy in the smallest things: the warmth of sunlight, the sound of her own laughter, the feeling of her breath grounding her in the present. Each small step brought her closer to herself. She demanded that her healing be louder than the silence.

Looking back now, she can see how far she’s come. The healing process wasn’t about erasing her pain; it was about transforming it into something meaningful. It taught her that she wasn’t defined by what had happened to her but by how she chose to move forward and help heal others.

Finding herself wasn’t a single, dramatic moment. It was a series of small, quiet realizations that she was enough, just as she was, and that she was still learning to grow. Healing didn’t make her perfect—it made her whole. And for that, she will always feel a deep sense of gratitude for stepping away from the shallows and into the deep. Her transformation is a reflection of the courage it took to walk into the depths and rediscover her true self.

As you rise from the ashes, something remarkable happens. You begin to see the masterpiece that you are. Every scar, every tear, every step forward becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of your life.

You are no longer the person you were before the trauma endured—but that’s not a loss. The person you are becoming is stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. You have walked through fire and emerged with a strength that cannot be taken from you.

This masterpiece you are creating is not perfect, nor should it be. It is real, raw, and breathtakingly human. It is a testament to your resilience, your ability to heal, and your refusal to let darkness define your story.

Your journey of rising from the ashes is not just for you. When you are ready, your story becomes a beacon for others still trapped in their pain. By sharing your truth and redemption, you remind them that healing is possible, that they are not alone, and that they too can rise. There is beauty from the ashes if you allow yourself to rise up and over the trauma inflicted.

Your courage becomes a light that pierces through the darkness, a reminder that beauty can emerge even from the deepest pain. No longer defined by a life sentence; rather a beautiful masterpiece refined by the inferno.

Rising from the ashes of trauma is not about erasing the past; it’s about transforming it. It’s about taking the pain and using it to create something extraordinary—a life lived boldly, authentically, and fully.

You are not what happened to you. You are the masterpiece you have become, a testimony and alive to guide others out of the inferno.

So, rise. Paint your life with every color of your journey. Embrace your strength, honor your scars, and stand tall in the knowledge that you are whole, worthy, radiant, beautiful and YOU-uniquely YOU.

Because you, dear survivor, are a masterpiece—and the world is brighter because of you.

A small shadowy figure of a girl stumbles out of her house, and quickly paces through her backyard. The lawn hasn’t been cut but she still treads through barefoot without a care. To others around her she seems disheveled, even slightly scary. She heads towards the darkest corner and peers over her raggedy fence and caught a nice gaze at the sky. “Ahhhh, no clouds tonight” she happily told herself.

What this means for Jaria, is she can do her thing now finally. No obstructions tonight. She closes her eyes and throws a nice calming frequency tone on in the background. Takes a deep breath and then asks for guidance from within. She realizes that way too much suffering has been occurring for far too long. Past, present, and future if nothing changes. Her focus starts tuning in and here come all her higher thoughts. She calmly reaches for her blue selenite crystal because she remembers the moon will recharge it. A special friend from the Unkechaug Tribe told her this tip many years ago. She keeps paying attention to her breathing, and the breaths get longer, fuller and somehow even more fulfilling. She stretches out every part of her body, then says ok “RELEASE”!

Nothing major or dramatic seems to have occurred. Atleast not instantly that is….Jaria lightly starts humming and moving her legs around. She remembers stories as a little girl, and now senses the whispers of her ancestors telling her to dance. See, dancing for her was not just for what you see on television. Dancing was not only part of her culture, it was used for it’s healing properties as well.

We all have energy, and movement causes vibration. Vibration can in turn heal us. Jaria didn’t have many words to speak anymore. She has seen a lot here on Earth. So this is what she must do to remain calm and strong if there is to be any future hope left in humanity.

Dancing somehow holds the key which is put into a doorknob and when she turns it-she’s granted access to somehow release all of her hidden emotions. She can somehow feel a sense of control by the mastery of her movements the older she gets.

All of a sudden Jaria isn’t so disheveled and uncharged. Swiftly she notices more, then she has enough self awareness to pick up on her own bad mood and decide to change it. She has no care for the conception of time, monetary items or toxicity. She walks to the beat of her own drum… literally.

Two hours has gone by, and it’s going to take a full nights rest now. This was a lot on Jaria’s soul. But in a good way. She breezes past her neighbors, now seeming light as a feather. Even her neighbors figure she must have gotten some good news or something.

Unfortunately this is a common pattern for our little moon child here. This is what Jaria must keep doing not only for herself, but for all future spiritual creatures alike. May we all find our place in the Universe.

Dearest Readers…This is a fictional story. Any and all characters in this story are purely fictional. Any and all relations to real people is unintended. I hope you enjoy!

I thought I heard music coming from the door. But, I knew better than to go in because he always told me not to. “That’s not a place for little children. Only me and mommy.” There was a certain feeling coming from the door pulling me to it. But I never went in. Until that day.
I had come home from school and my mom was already at work. My dad was home but in the garage where he mainly worked on his off days. I go to the garage to tell him I was home but, he wasn’t there. I looked around the house and found my mom’s purse and phone on the table. I heard music and followed it to the door. “That’s not a place for little children.” My father’s voice echoed in my head but, I wasn’t a child anymore. I opened the door and a blinding light shielded my vision. I kept hearing my name and I went toward the voice. “Rhyla? Can you hear me?” I slowly nodded my head. “Where am I?” The woman sighed and had a smile on her face. “Welcome back. You are in the hospital. You’ve been here for several months. He had a tight hold on you this time didn’t he?”

This story is inspired by those who struggle with mental health each and every day. I am glad you are still here! You have friends and family who love you and people willing to help you feel like yourself again!

A NOTE FROM GRANDMA SOLETA
TO LUJUANA MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas, moms, and their granddaughters, and women everywhere. We are beautiful. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Dear Lujuana,
We are not promised roses without thorns nor rainbows without rainstorms.
I miss you so much. I am in the light now but was granted temporary leave to write you this letter. You are an incredibly talented and beautiful woman. You lost your creativity for a moment in time, but you will soon receive all the talent and creativity back that a few people who wished you back luck had put a spell on you wishing you homeless, and in dire poverty so they could convince everything and everyone that you are a bad hombre. They lied about you to your friends and acquaintances. The ex-lover wanted to destroy you as a human being out of revenge and hate. In his opinion if you did not want him then you were on drugs and seriously dumb to not have stayed with his lying narcissistic personality. The rejected lover wanted to hurt you and throw you into the dark night of the soul forever, but you, my beautiful granddaughter, did not succumb to their threats of hate and evil intentions to destroy you as a human being. Your ex-lover vowed to destroy you so you would never find love again. He and his cronies laughed at you throwing stones through words and gossip to anyone they encountered to hurt you so deeply hoping you would die or live in darkness, but you, Lujuana, are a child of the Universe. You are surrounded by light and angels.
However, my sweet Lujuana I was allowed to send you guides to watch over you and protect you from his evil intentions to destroy you as a human being.
I want to let you know I love you so much. I know you have had too many broken relationships by wrongdoing men. Even though you are old now, age 74, it is not too late to have a special relationship with an artistic, creative man. I know you say it must be a miracle music man to stroke your breasts and kiss your lips. So, my dear Lujuana you will meet your mystery man like a bump in the night.
I have permission to continue to watch over you by hiring your spirit guides to always be around you to keep you safe.
I am watching you write, create art, and grow into your peace and light and love position as a human being. There are many stories you can write to help others with your stories of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and photography. Even your little stick figure drawings and your flower drawings are a part of your many gifts given from the Universe.
I wanted to stop by to deliver this message of love, peace, and light. I wish we could text each other as you do your friends in 2024. Despite this I will always be by your side to guide you. Your pop says hi and to let you know that no matter how old you get you are still his baby girl. Your mom, my daughter, has gone into the light and moved on as a reincarnated soul to learn lessons. She loved you very much but died young at age 65 and must reincarnate with her soul into another human body.
I love you my dear Lujuana, and you are protected from all evil intentions of an ex-partner that wished you harm. I know you know that the ex-partner truly kept all your photos to create a dark aura around your life not wanting you to succeed in your career. They no longer have power over your life.
May God, the Universe guide you to be the strong warrior you are to fight for equality for all, LBGTQ rights, women’s rights, gun control, peace, love, light, and understanding.
Be thankful, pray, create roses with and without thorns.
Love,

Grandma Soleta
January 30, 2024
This is a fictional story. Any representation of situations or real characters is unintentional. My grandma did visit me after her death. I have spoken with spirits and decided to dedicate this story to all grandmas and their granddaughters. Peace to all. To all my relations.

Dear Unsealers,

I wrote this poem as an homage to our ancestors, when spirituality came before organized religion, when we viewed the world with wonder, and when we longed for understanding of life and death:

Primitivo

I worship the Sun

And his daughter, the Moon

I pray to the sky; morn, evening, and noon

The stars I will use as my guide and my light

To honor my ancestors throughout the night

And I pray to the gods of the wind and the rain

For peace and strength and no more of the pain

For my mother, the Earth, and my father, the Sea

Gave life and birth for me to be

The son of comets and shooting stars

My brothers Venus, Earth, and Mars

Watch over me as I wake and rest

And live my life as I do best

For when my body returns to clay

The stars will cradle me, and there I’ll stay

A poetic/fictitious mixed short about greeting your melancholy with kindness and making your mind into a nice place to call home.
—–
The autumn flush bashfully comes in during this time of year. Traces of red and orange line the green just enough to give the sense that it might actually get colder than fifty, but it never does. Most of the homes in Tomales are farm-style. Less greek revival, more horse and buggy. Wrap around porches hug the treeline rooftops parallel to an unneeded chimney. Hummingbird feeders hang nectar on every doorstep like there might be a modern day Passover. I once even heard someone call their laundry closet an ‘alcove.’ The neighborhood is literally so pretentious and inviting that you can practically taste Grandma’s cookies underneath a family timeline of Stanford cap and gown photos.

Houses like that are meant to be shared. Mine is just for me.

There was a Victorian on the hill, half a mile south of the city limits. There were rumors about it. Ghost stories that were best left dismissed. With fresco painted ceilings and a view of the bay, I’d blindly bought in. The previous owner even left behind an old piano. I called it a steal.

Economically sound: the only type of echo I’d ever considered when buying the house. The first creaky floorboard fell through while I was carrying in the dishware. Termites. And if that wasn’t enough, the flip of the switch fried the chandelier’s circuit in one go. Ridiculous of me to expect the house to do more than look like the photos.

“Goddamnit.” I collapsed onto the piano bench for the first time. All of my boxes were just inside the hall. The air was stifled by thick humidity. I could feel myself getting sick in the first breath. Nobody had lived here in years. Perhaps no one was meant to.

I’d left the city to learn more about myself. My friends found it a bit extreme: “You’ll be all alone up there, away from the city.” Their voices carry through the thirty-two miles in between us. But, I’d never been alone before. Truly alone. There was always the buzz of life swarming me into a perpetual FOMO. And in some manic-state, I decided to discover the sensational melancholy that William Wordsworth wrote all of those poems about.

On the first night I’d been on the air mattress. That was when I decided that the air quality might be getting to me. Around one in the morning I woke up to the sound of my own floorboards giving in fours. The sounds of a horse. I thought myself to be crazy – exhausted from moving. But, when I peeked out the bedroom door into the hall – I saw it. A ghost-white Shire tiptoeing across the fragile wood.

The next morning, there were the slightest indentations in the floor. So faint, that suggesting a horse might be responsible was insane. Still, I called my mom to tell her the news. She suggested a hallucination remedy, a new brand of air filters, and sent over a list of psychologists – just in case.

Still, the horse visited me. New air filters and all. Nineteen hundred pounds creaking through the halls on four legs. Sometimes when we made late-night eye contact, the horse would spook and kick hind legs into the air. If it weren’t for all of the holes born in the walls – I’d pass it off as delirium. Too frightened to unpack and settle in, and more afraid to abandon the purchase: I’d tell myself one more day. I can do one more day here. And for days, the house remained as it was. Empty and unusable. Every night brought new holes in the hallway walls.

The ninth day, something changed. Call it boredom or insanity, but I went for a walk. The cookie cutter houses allured me in their simplicity. Transformation of a new perspective. With flower beds lining their white picket fences and patio furniture I felt a sense of inspiration to decorate my own lawn. Wandering down the street further, I found myself at the market.

“A single potted plant and a carrot?” The cashier chuckled briefly before a glance at the dark bags sunk under my eyes.

I set my plant up on the porch that day. The only unboxed item in two-thousand square feet. And while the house had a long way to go, it was something pleasant. Something small.

That night I set the single carrot outside my door, in hopes to soothe the fear of the Shire. And to my surprise, I slept through the night. Full of rest, my feet found the floor next to my air mattress and when I opened the bedroom door, the carrot was gone.

In a burst of unwearied energy, I unpacked the first box. Dishware. Some cups and plates chipped from the move, but the functionality remained in tact. I organized them neatly into the cupboard. At the bottom of the box was a glass vase, sized perfect for the window sill in the front hall. After placing it there, I left the house for another walk, this time hunting for the perfect flower.

There weren’t many wildflowers left, especially in such a domesticated area. But, I found one. Maybe nothing more than a weed. Yet, it looked like a daisy to me. It would do just fine.

That night I put the carrot further down from my room, closer to the front entrance and I went to bed, sleeping through another night peacefully. Many days went on like this – another box unpacked, a new plant adorning a canny corner, the horse reappearing at night to come and go. By what means – I do not know. Furniture was arriving. I was off the air mattress and into a real bed by the second week. The tent for the termites came and went – more affordable than I’d predicted. I wrote the check at my window, foliage draped over the glass in a perfect frame.

Yesterday on the phone with my mother, I accidentally called this place home.

It’s late October now. “Finally settling?” I read on the phone screen once more. I woke up early these days, in a routine to water my back porch plants. They’d become more like friends to me. And there the white Shire was, grazing through the green yard. My body paralyzed at first – remembering all of the fear caused. Besides, I’d almost finish patching the holes in the halls. Inching towards the creature, I held out my hand in a white flag.

I stroked the muzzle once. Then again.

***

You finally rested your head on my shoulder, and I named you Casper.

Our moments were never filled with fear again. We understood one another. You ruled acres of land and I had the Victorian. There were still the occasional spooks. Mangled hair and disagreements. But, I no longer lived alone.

Even if I never had to begin with.

***

A year has gone by now. It’s Halloween. And I’ve got Trick or Treaters. Football-sized ghosts and miniature princesses making the long haul up my driveway. The only monster in the house is inflatable, peering out the window next to the vase. The kids love it. So do I.

I baked for them this year, a recipe from Ms. Arnett. She lives in one of the homes off Kennedy – widowed at twenty-nine. We met through our gardens. Nicknamed ‘The Greenhouse’ my plant collection had grown into a jungle. Dutch bulbs lit up the yard in frenzied patterns. I coined myself Queen Wilhelmina, but the kids don’t quite get that one. Ms. Arnett stopped by to chat about an idea she’d had for her tulips. We forgot to finish that conversation, two pots of tea later. We’re always forgetting, it seems.

Casper’s dressed as a reindeer this year. The kids feed her carrots I picked up from the market and she takes them tamely. Gratefully even.

When the night grows late I find myself candle-lit at the piano. A new thing I’m learning. With my shadow dancing off-key to my chorus, I remind myself that I’m learning.

I really am.