Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Me.

I had a dream a few nights ago about Red knowing the wolf for he was, yet she still feigned ignorance.  He called her on it, yet she still denied the truth of his character, his intent, his danger up until the moment he attacked.  In my dream version, the Wolf devours Red. I understand the fairy tale has a happy ending with the Huntsman showing up and destroying the wolf and saving Red, but we all know that’s not how it plays out in reality.  There’s never a Huntsman to save us from our own ignorance. 

I don’t blame, Red. I fear of being like her. I fear being just as naïve, just as stupid, just as blind, or be just as deceived. Wolves are cunning and they seem to be getting better and better at stalking their prey. 

I hate wolves.  Not the four-legged beautiful amazing creatures that live in the wild, but the predators who live next door – I’m talking about the deceivers, agents of deception, liars, cheaters, users, and vampires.  I’m talking about the cold-hearted, callus, selfish predators who destroy the souls of other human beings with their games.  The world is full of male and she-wolves, but God I pray not to be a Red, yet fear there’s more of her in me than I want to admit.

I don’t have a problem seeing wolves. I see them. I smell them. I recognize when they’re tracking, hunting, and stalking me.  I get their deceptive messages, I smell their scent of betrayal, yet I still walk through the dangerous forest alone, I still tell strangers my destination, I still trollop through the tulips with my basket of bread, with not much regard for my safety.  Being safe is being guarded, being suspect, being armored, and being cold and hard as steel.  I’ve been there. I’ve done that – and it didn’t protect me. A wolf disguised himself as another warrior and got me to lay my armor down before he decided to chew me up and leave me for dead.  So, even protected I was not safe.  Being aware, being awake, seeing the truth, and learning how to walk away, to change direction, to evade and avoid …is all I can really hope to do.  My weapons is now truth – by living in the light, not lurking in the shadows.  Wolves don’t like the light and they can’t play hide and seek or stalk prey sufficiently in the open.  So, I don’t hide. If a wolf comes at me, he will have to come at me in the light – and he will be met with a survivor who knows how to fight back, not a victim.

I hate the wolves of this world – both men and women.  Liars, deceivers, con-artists, players, users and manipulators destroy the souls of men and women more than anything else in this world. 

“Grandma, what big eyes you have – do you see me, because I see you.”

“Grandma, what big ears you have – can you hear me? You will hear me roar.”

“Grandma, what big teeth you have – mine are sharper. You will feel my bite!”

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? I am – not that it could or would hurt me – I only fear being naïve to not recognize him before it’s too late.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Whatever It Takes

How many of us say this, and convince ourselves we believe it, but don’t do it?  Will I really do ‘whatever’ it takes?  How about when it gets hard? When no one else believes and supports me? When there’s no reward? No accolades? When it hurts? When it costs? When it requires me to give up someone or something else I love? When it doesn’t match my dreams or imagination?

Right now I’ve been doing this new workout program my boyfriend created for me. I suffer. It hurts me. It pushes me. I have to fight the fifty excuses screaming at me every morning, telling me to go back to bed, taunting me that it isn’t working, I’m wasting my time.  Yes, knowing I’m about to go suffer, I get up, put on my gym clothes, tie my hair in a ponytail, and then drive to the gym.  EVERY exercise hurts, and then the last of each set where I have to take myself to muscle failure – makes me want to throw up. But, I do WHATEVER it takes. I quit focusing on the pain I’m feeling and KNOW I’m going to feel throughout the day and then what I’m going to feel through the night and tomorrow, and focus on the next success.  

Do I love to suffer or feel pain? Hell NO!  But, what I do love more than the pain and suffering is being strong, healthy, and active.  I’m 48. My body is ready to start resting, slow down, take it easy – but I’m not.  I’ve got too many dreams, too many things I still have yet to do.

I got pissed off and frustrated the other day because I wasn’t strong enough to carry my kayak on my own.  I’m going to fix that problem, watch me. I’ll do whatever it takes. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’m thinking about it. I love to kayak, I have a kayak, I have an SUV to carry my kayak, and I am not going to let being small and weak stop me from enjoying something I love to do. And I refuse to depend on someone else to do it.  Don’t get me wrong, if someone else is around, I’ll gladly and appreciatively use their help, but I’m not going to let the lack of help being available stop me.

I made a promise to myself a few years ago I wasn’t going to let the actions or inactions of others stop me anymore for doing what I want and love. I spent more than 20 years practically begging to go to the Grand Canyon. We had the means, time, and opportunity, but no one else wanted to go, so I allowed my dream to be put on the back burner with an empty promise of the next year – that never came.  So, I made a vow to myself to not let other’s stop me from doing what I want anymore. I still haven’t made it to the Grand Canyon, but believe me – It’s in the planning stage. As soon as I have vacation time – I’m going to see that big hole in the ground, even if I have to go alone. I’ll do WHATEVER IT TAKES. I’m going to find a way to load and unload my kayak ON MY OWN – whatever it takes.

In my writing – I do whatever it takes. Writing is hard, it takes devotion, time, patience, bleeding your soul onto the page …and if I want publication – more hard work, being “on” in order to market, promote, engage, sitting at hot festivals, sitting on panels with a bunch of snobbish people, wearing thick skin from the opinionated bad reviews or advice from everyone in or outside the business who thinks they can write your stuff better than you.  Dealing with people …sigh.  BUT, I LOVE writing, it’s as much a part of me as breathing so when I set my mind to a project – I’ll do whatever it takes to see it fly onto the page and then out into the universe. I’m not going to let those things or people stop me.

In work, in relationships, paying my bills, providing for myself, life in general … I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ve only got me. I have people in my life who care about me, but I, ALONE, am responsible for myself.  I’m an independent single woman. I don’t have a husband to share the burdens of this life. My kids are grown and they have themselves to care for, and it’s not their job to take care of me. I have no parents. So, I must do whatever it takes. So, watch me do just that.

Till next time

Move On

Anytime something happens in my life, usually something tragic or a loss of someone I love, or the dissolution of a relationship, people always tell me to move on.  Move on?  What does that really mean, because that could mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people?  I was thinking about that this morning – moving on.

I suppose all of my life I’ve been moving …on – because I keep moving. I am always moving – either forward or backward. I’m growing or shrinking. I’m learning or wallowing in ignorance.  Well, if you really think it about it, I am always headed toward death.  If I stop and give up – I am digressing and dying. If I stop eating, I will die of hunger.  As I move forward and keep aging, I am slowly moving toward death – so I am essentially dying there too.  BUT, the difference is HOW I move toward my death, which is GOING to come.  Next week, if I make it that long (Scott’s workout is torture) I will have moved forty-eight years closer to my death. Pretty sobering, huh?

I’m not being somber here, just real, facing the facts.  Fact is …I am going to die. In my fantasies I’d like to go out in a blaze of glory, being with someone I love, filled with a sense of peace knowing I really lived and loved, and got to experience the best this life had to offer. Our definition of best will probably splinter at this point – but the best in life for me has NOTHING to do with stuff or accomplishments.  It has to do with love and the journey taken to achieve those accomplishments. I just want to be loved, I just want to love the people in my life, and I want to pursue something that fuels my passions. THAT’s it. I can do that in a mansion or a trailer, with a million or a penny.  Don’t make a difference to me – as long as love and purpose are present.

Life is a diamond and shaped with billions of angles.  It’s filled with pain and pleasure. Some of it I’d like to forget, but I can’t. What I can do is not wallow, not dwell, not stay stuck in that chaos – but move on.  Learn from it. I can’t forget the tragic shit.  I don’t want to forget it, because it was the fire that forged the steel that runs through my soul.  Moving on to me is being able to see things in an honest view – all the ugly and beauty of a thing, of a moment, of an experience, of a person, or of a lesson.  EVERYTHING has light and dark, good and bad. I can’t just look at part of a thing and truly understand it. I have to have balance and see all the facets to truly appreciate it.  That to me is moving on – seeing it (no matter the chaos) in its truth, accepting it in its truth, and then learning something about myself from it. 

My life has had some hard truth and it’s been hard to move on.  But, I had to accept it and see it, and learn from it, to honor it and what it means to me. James’ death, my childhood, my divorce, losing relationships are all hard truths. NO relationship in this world is ONLY beauty. EVERY relationship has its weaknesses, its flaws, its ugly – because we are human, we are mortal, we are complex beings filled with both dark and light.  To truly appreciate a relationship, I have to look at it in balance and truth. Fantasy, the idea of what we think a relationship should look like, is the biggest destroyer; false expectations. What we think a person should look like, how they should respond or be, how we should feel, etc.  We make our lists, we set our expectations and then our human counterparts don’t (can’t) live up the fantasy we created in our minds and we get disappointed.  If we looked at people and relationships in balance, see the good and bad, the light and dark, and accept people for who THEY truly are, not who we hope or want them to be, then we will have more successful relationships.

I’m not perfect (shhhh… don’t say that out loud). I don’t always do the right thing. I don’t look like a porn star or supermodel. I don’t have the world to offer on a silver platter.  I don’t have all the wisdom of knowing everything. But, if you strip away all those vain, stupid, unimportant, shallow issues, and look deep at my soul – I think I’m fucking amazing. I love with my whole heart. I give all of me to everything I do. I learn from my mistakes. I own my choices.  I am loyal. I am faithful to myself and the people I love. I am a fighter. I am a survivor. I’ve learned to learn. I’ve learned to move on – to move in life – to keep going forward, not forgetting, but keep moving. My tomorrow is not guaranteed.  I may not be here in the next minute, so I believe with my whole heart that I just have to live the best life I can live, and never take a day for granted, or a person for granted, or a passion for granted. Love me or don’t. I’m going to keep moving on till I have no more breath.

What Do We Want?

Do we really know what we want?  What drives our wants, what fuels our needs and desires? Is it the propaganda that our mind is bombarded with on a consistent daily basis of our culture, education, media and social media? Is it with keeping up with the Jones’?  Is it tradition, idealism of the American Dream that has been planted in our minds from birth? Is the very idea of entitlement grated to us by our own Constitution – in that pursuit of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness?   I’m sure it’s a mixture of all of that – plus our own imaginations. 

I think everything we want FIRST starts as a thought and/or felt as a need. We want love, we want passion, we want purpose, we want vision, we want success, we want wealth, we want health, we want fame, we want direction, we want faith, we want family, we want connection, we want understanding, we want enlightenment, and we want freedom, etc. 

I think about other countries not as fortunate as this beautiful country in which I live and sometimes ponder what my wants and needs would be if I was from a different place, a different race, a different culture, or a different life.  But, it’s foolish and a waste of time to think on those terms, other than for better understanding of our neighbors’ plight, because I am NOT that person and THIS is the life I’ve been given. I was born into this body, in this race, into this culture, into this part of the world.  That doesn’t make me any better or any worse than anyone else – it just makes me …Me. Who I am and who I choose to be – is in every choice I make, and in every want and need I have, and how I go about fulfilling them.

What I want and need today is different than yesterday and tomorrow it will be different than today - because life is fluid and ever changing.  I don’t want to get tripped up always thinking “what if” and miss out living life today. Yes, I have dreams and hopes for tomorrow. Yes, I have memories and some regrets for yesterday.  But today – today I want – to live my life to fullest, to be happy, to be loved, to love, to laugh, to appreciate, to work hard, to be in the moment. I have many fears, because I’m over-thinker, and those fears haunt me always – fear of failing, of getting it wrong, of misunderstanding, of making a mistake, of being naïve, of being taken advantage of, of being used, of being vulnerable, of being hurt, of being unwanted and unloved.  But, I face my fears because I’d rather be all those things  - WHILE I’m living my life to the best of my ability, than having missed all those things, and the good opposite by hiding away in my fear. So, I will kiss the guy.  I will take the chance. I will make the move. I will face that PF360* machine. I will spend the money and book the trip – because I only get one life.  I only have one chance to live. That’s what I really want – to live, to really fucking live.

So, let’s do this.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

 

First Steps

No matter what struggle or difficulty or achievement or success we find ourselves, whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual, we are not stationary in our positions.  ALL life is fluid.  Everything is always moving, changing, and transforming.  Even within our bodies, we are constantly evolving.  Our feelings change. Our ideas change. Our faith changes.  Our knowledge changes. We are born. We live. We die.  In the midst of that journey, based on our understanding and observation we make decisions that effect that life. Some good. Some bad. Some really good and some really bad. Regardless of the state – it won’t remain in that state for long.

Going through a huge heartbreak and recent death, I have felt many times that it’s too much for me, that I can’t even breathe.  The world I imagined, I had hoped for, and I had loved with my whole heart crumbled around me. I saw the destruction coming, I felt the change in the wind, and I noticed the warning signs long before the walls fell. And I fought like hell to stop them, but I was powerless. For me, the reasons why were not good enough to justify the pain. But the pain came anyway. The storm came and blew against the walls, and the house fell. 

All life is fluid.  The storm has passed. Now comes the calm. At times I thought the storm would kill me, and sweep me away with its waves into the abyss, but I survived. I’m standing in the middle of the destruction, but I’m still standing.  Nothing is recognizable around me, except me.  I’m still here. I’m battered, bruised, but I’m standing. My life has changed from what it was, to what it is, and will change again to what it will be …to change even beyond.

I still see the storm raging in the distance.  I still feel the wind blowing. I still see dark clouds hovering, the lightning striking, and the waves beating against the shore. The storm still exists.  It didn’t fade and its winds are still causing destruction, but it’s moved on from me. I’m not part of it anymore.  I can’t save those within it, but I pray they survive. I pray they get out of the storm, but the only way out requires a first step – as with every program and every faith that exists in this world, the road to recovery, to escape, and to freedom is - acceptance.  

The moment I accepted I was powerless to change anything, that I could see the truth of my situation, my life, and my circumstances as they were -  instead of struggling to hold tight to my hope of what had been and what could be, that’s when the storm finally swept me away. We can’t move forward in our life without acceptance.  We can’t change in ANY positive or good way without the acceptance of the truth. We can lie to ourselves and continue to circle the same issues over and over and over and over again – deceiving ourselves into thinking we can change things, or that WE are in control, but that keeps us bound to our destruction, bound to our pain, bound to chains that weigh us down, making us addicts to our own destruction.  Just as an addict or someone involved in destructive behavior will not, nor cannot, change their behavior until they first accept the truth about themselves.  No matter how much we hope for them, plead with them, try to reason with them – they cannot hear ANYTHING until they accept the truth.  Until then, it is a vicious cycle – over and over and over and over and over – some NEVER overcome.  Healing will NEVER come until acceptance. That is the first step.  In faith – acceptance of who we are and that we are not in control of the universe around us, but that there is a higher power – is the first step. 

I took my first step. I accepted. I am surviving.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Where Are You Going, Young Warrior?

Where Are You Going, Young Warrior?

You, with the world on your shoulder and bitterness on your lips, where are you going in such a hurry? You wear your flashy robes and wave banners of disrespect and disobedience high above you with arrogant pride and blind ignorance.

You say you don’t care where the road leads, only that your feet itch to be upon the pavement and impatience fills the air. You’re too busy to stop, to care, or to get your bearings. It’s too hard, too much work, requires too much time, and the disease of integrity. Do you even know your destination?

Listen to my heart, hear my words. I’ve been that way, walked that road, and know all its turns and edges. I can tell you every tree, every rock, every hole, and ever hiding place along the path. I’ve seen where it leads, carried the heavy load, and have felt all its infliction.  Yes, I survived, but barely.

I once believed I too was invincible, that the monsters lurking in shadows would not harm me. Not me!  They only exist to scare children or weaklings, but I’m was a warrior, a bad ass, and took no shit. Come closer, young warrior, and look at my scars and see the toll Road Demons have taken. Don’t only look at the visible scars upon my flesh, but gaze deeper and set your attention upon the inner wounds of my soul where the true nightmares live. That’s where Fear remains, writing his words on the back of my eyelids, on the inner-side of my lips, on the bottom of my tongue, on the back of my hands, and on the soles of my feet.

Young warrior, that I would save you the dark journey is my fondest wish.  Let me feed you. Let me give you a place of safety to rest this night, and with the dawn of acuity, set your fervent feet on a diverse path that will lead to greener pastures, smoother hills, greener woods, and beautiful beaches.  That particular way, the dangerous way you’re headed, is only filled with dead things – lost things – dark things.  You think you’re strong enough to defeat what lurks in the shadows, but you’re not.  You’re just a man, not a god.  

If you can’t heed my words, heed my scars. If you can’t see my scars, close your eyes, young warrior, and listen to the pain that fills the earth.  Listen to the weeping and gnashing of teeth at the cries of injustice, the pain of abandonment, the bondage of addiction, and the cruelty of indifference waft like a low mist. The world of that path grieves because it’s filled with sorrowful songs.

© T.L. Gray 2018

We

We

We speak from pain, words of pain, in cries of pain, we sing.

We speak from love, acts of love, in songs of love, we dance.

We speak from truth, move in truth, in steps of truth, we feel.

We speak from touch, inflict in touch, in response of touch, we reveal.

© T.L. Gray 2018

Falling in Love... Day 7

Sometimes, as men, women… humans, we can be terribly blind.  We are often so busy in life, looking ahead, looking behind, looking all around us to be in the present, and yet still be ignorant to what is standing right in front of us.  It’s not because we can’t see, it’s most often because we’ve created this ideal in our minds of what we’re supposed to see, that we miss the reality, or better yet, the potential. 

Hindsight is a bitch.  She’s that nasty, arrogant know-it-all that shouts, “I told you so.”  I despise her.  I work so hard every day to not let her get a leg up on me, but I often fail.  It seems the more I try to open my eyes, the more I miss.

Life is so fluid.  People come and go, some are only around for a small flash of time, while others who’ve gone before stop by, come right in without knocking, and kick their feet up.  We deceive ourselves into thinking we can control the flow, but that’s another lie we tell ourselves.  We even wrap those lies in commitments, promises, vows, and contracts, but all can and are often broken, because life isn’t something we can control.  We can’t promise tomorrow, because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and doesn’t belong to us. We can’t make people stay, love us, fight for us, or even remember the promises they’ve made to us… or the promises we’ve made to others.  We can only determine how we respond to the changes as they happen.

Today is a sad and happy day for me.  One friend is leaving today, and it breaks my heart something terrible. He was a source of comfort for me at work, yet life changes. I wish him a lot of luck in his adventures, and hope the best for him. I’m also happy today because a boat load of my crazy writer friends suddenly showed up out of the blue.  Though we haven’t really gathered together in a very, very long time, the chemistry is still there and it’s like we never left.  I’m so excited to have them back in my life again.  They were such an inspiration to me.   

I’m sure there’s a reason my Insomniac friends have popped up lately.  I’m learning there’s a time and season for everything.  I’ve been avoiding my greatest gift for the longest season, but I know it’s time to get back to it.  There are no coincidences.  It’s not an accident that the last couple of weeks, I’ve been contacted by different members of this group in various ways.  I’m not the same person I was. Life has changed me, but it didn’t change my gift.  I recently removed “author” from my profile because I felt like such a failure for neglecting my gift for so long.  I felt I let my fans down because I allowed the heartaches of my life to keep me from releasing my work.  I felt I let my friends down by running away. Yet, here they are… as if it were yesterday.

There is was right in front of me all along.  I didn’t realize I felt all this disappointment in myself. I thought my writing was suffering because of space.  True, lack of space hampers, but I used to write anywhere.  I was blind.  In my quest of falling in love with myself, I didn’t think I’d have to deal with this part of my life, but this is a very big part of who I am.  I am a writer. I am a scribe. I am silver-tongue. I am a record keeper. I am a steward of imagination and creativity.  I must forgive myself for my neglect.  My imagination and writing gift was, is, and will always be my first love.

I have no idea what tomorrow holds. I cannot control life, love, or time.  But, I can choose to decide to love myself, and love the gifts I have been given.  We are to value the things we love.  Just as we value the people we love in our lives, how we consider their needs and do what me must to meet those needs, so is the same for every part of us.  To love myself completely, I have to love all parts of me.  Believe me, there are many parts.  Many, many parts.  I may not be ‘hard to carry’ (btw – I misquoted my friend yesterday.  He didn’t say I was hard to carry (that’s what I heard), he said I was hard to keep up with, that someone with my level of ambition would be hard to keep up with unless my partner had a similar level of ambition for themselves.  That while that enthusiasm is attractive at the beginning to any many, unless they were my equal, they would struggle to keep up with me and I’d have to carry them.  In other words, I’m too much for the average guy- he’s going to have to be strong and something extraordinary – my superman), but I’m great at flying.   

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Sleight by Sloane Kady

I promised this review a few weeks ago, but life got in the way and I’m late.  I apologize to author Sloane Kady for my lateness. I made a promise, so here I am.  Please visit Ms. Kady’s website here.

It’s actually hard for me to review this novel.  The first paragraph grabbed hold of me and I actually got a little scared to read any further. 

“I’m the daughter of two defective people.  They came off the factory line dented and chipped.  If you could pick them up and look underneath them, you’d see that they’re just hollow molds, meant to look like real parents, even sounding like them sometimes, but you know you can’t keep them because those chips left sharp edges that will make you bleed, and they’re not real, anyway.  No one wants a cheap knockoff.”

It was too real for me.  Too familiar.  Too raw.  Not from anything that’s happened recently, but with things I’ve put behind me many years ago.  I could feel the pain this author poured into this work, because I recognize it.  I haven’t read anything else by Kady, nor have I met her personally, but I do interact with her at times on Facebook because many of her posts speak to my soul.  Her writing does the same.  I’ve grown a great fondness for Ms. Kady.

Sleight is raw and not for the tender-hearted, yet tender-hearted is exactly what Bryce is beneath the tough, cold exterior.  She’s full of pain, full of loss, full of confusion and all of it together has her stuck… stuck in the pain of a past she can’t forget, stuck in the confusion of a present she doesn’t know how to handle, and stuck in the fear of not knowing which future to choose.  The anger she’s held onto for so long because of the things she once knew, is tossed into chaos as she struggles to re-identify herself as her father struggles to hold onto to his own identity among the identity-stealing grasp of Alzheimer’s.

“The woman looking back at me in my oval bathroom mirror is a stranger to me.  I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t know me, either.  I watch her, trying to familiarize myself with her shocking appearance.  Inside, I’m still casual girl, with my torn skinny jeans and black turtleneck sweater.  The woman in the mirror would pass me on the street and at best glare at me from the corner of her eye in contempt of having to share the sidewalk with me.”

When do we form that inner soul? Mine is still a scared little girl acting tough in a violent world. Even now, she is the voice that moves me forward, reminds me of what I’ve already overcome, and compels me forward.  It’s paragraphs like this that resonate with me, and why this author has a fan for life.

What I saw in this novel is the beauty and ugliness, but most of all the reality, of love.  The chaos of pain.  The consequence of pride. The scars of hate, prejudice, and ignorance. Oh, if we could only get out of our own way sometimes.

As an editor, I found the writing fluid, like it was poured directly from the heart.  The pacing was consistent, slow in the moments of reflection, and then fast in the heat of emotion.  The language was raw and real, which gave an authenticity to the character’s voice. 

I don’t recommend this book for those easily offended or those blind in their preconceived boxes.  It’s a must-read for those with minds wide open, who’ve experienced some shit in their lives, or those who aren’t afraid to face some raw truth and emotion. 

Good job, Ms. Kady.  I look forward to reading more of your work.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Published Author

Georgia Author of the Year Nominee

Editor at North Star Literary Agency

I Give It My Whole Heart... Now

I sometimes wonder how I make it through the day.  I don’t wonder as I’m going through the day, but in those quiet moments of reflection usually at the end of one or in the early mornings of a new one.  I try not to look too far ahead, because while some of those thoughts bring me great anticipation and excitement, others bring me moments of panic, worry and overwhelming anxiety.  I’ve been through too much to not fear the struggles that may lay ahead, because of the struggles I’ve already waded through, but I’ve also experienced some great adventures and anticipate with wonder.  The joy, the peace, or the real struggle is to try to stay as much in the present moment as possible.  This moment is more manageable. It is this moment where your decisions matter most. It’s in these moments that keep you on track of your goals and aspirations, or provide the detours that sends you on a different path.  At least that’s what I tell myself.

What’s in my present moment? What’s going on in my life and what can I do about it?

I’m currently working on a health & fitness program that includes a great workout regimen, a light diet plan, and building a lifestyle of active adventure.  So far, so good.  It’s a decision I have to make on a daily and weekly basis.  I can’t think or plan too far ahead, nor can I dwell on the past successes or mistakes.  I know what works for me, for my body, and for my mind.  My past success and failures help me make my current choices and also leads as a guide in my near-future decisions.  I give it my whole heart… now.

I’m currently in a romantic relationship that constantly makes me smile, makes me excited to get up in the morning, makes me feel at peace for my present, makes me feel loved, wanted and desired as I love, want and desire my man.  I don’t dwell on the relationships of the past. While those relationships sometimes pop up to remind me of both good and bad times, I don’t allow the memories to stay very long.  I also don’t try to plan and anticipate too far in the future.  Anticipation is the root to most of our disappointment. I’ve learned I can guarantee nothing. How can I make a promise that I have no power to actually fulfill? It doesn’t mean I don’t have a desire to see a life full of great moments, great love, and even greater adventure, because I do.  It’s one of my biggest hopes. However, I don’t PLAN it. I just appreciate what I have in this current block of time.  I reflect on how I feel and how the relationship affects me now.  I give it my whole heart… now.

I’m currently surrounded by a few great friends, and have recently made a few new friends.  I’m seeing the beauty of the human heart through some of the people that has come into my life the last few years.  For so long I saw the ugliness, judgement, and depravity of humanity, and many times my heart hurt and my mind fought to have hope.  There are beautiful, selfless, caring people in the world. I’ve had the pleasure to meet a few of them.  While I miss some of the friendships in the past, I’m learning to appreciate the friends in my present and open my heart to new friends.  I give it my whole heart… now.

 I’m writing again.  I have so many manuscripts I could work on, but I’m taking it one day at a time.  If I think of all that needs to be done, all that I’ve left behind, all that I’ve let slip away, or all that I want to do, then I will get too overwhelmed and run back into hiding. I don’t have the luxury to write full-time at this time in my life, and have to make time in my daily schedule for what I could do now.  It has to be a priority.  I have a wonderful job that I really enjoy that allows me to take care of my basic necessities, supports my independence.  It’s a job that ends at a certain time of day so that I am free to pursue those other goals in my life in the other 16 hours. I give it my whole heart… now.

So between my goals of health, fitness and living an adventurous lifestyle, enjoying a beautiful romance, surrounded by awesome friends, working at a good job, and fulfilling a great dream, my day is pretty full.  I don’t have the energy or the time to waste dwelling on a past I can’t change or worrying about a future I can’t control.  Today… I’m happy, I’m living in the moment, I’m in love, I am loved, and I’m excited. I give it my whole heart… now.

Till next time,

Princess of the Present

We'll Figure It Out

The world is a mess. We are all mess. I’m a mess. You don’t know how many times I’ve found myself in situations I knew were coming, yet procrastinated until I was deep into the heat of battle. It’s during times like that I’ve often heard myself say, “I’ll figure it out.” Most struggles stem from a lack of preparation, yet spending my life planning for every situation often caused me to miss out on actually living in the moment. Battles come… always. They never stop. When one is won or lost, another rises in its wake, each leading us closer to the resolution of our war – life. This is our ultimate plot line.

I’m a planner, a dreamer, and survivor. I do try really hard to live in the moment, to focus on the here and now and not continue to be caught up reliving the past or fretting over the future. But, come on – it’s part of my DNA to have the whole story, to flesh out the minor plots, to notice the connections, the paths, the solutions, the threads, and the story on the whole. In the story of life, I’m not only the protagonist, antagonist, the hero, and the villain of my particular tale, but my story intermingles with so many other sub-characters, allies, enemies, and love interests. How can I not get caught up in trying to see where their plot lines cross with mine? We are all part of the same story.

I can’t express how many relationships I’ve run from because I’ve followed the plot lines and found they didn’t lead to where I wanted them to go, or where I needed them to go despite where I wanted. Yet, even the best plot lines, no matter how certain of their direction, were met with plot twists or inciting scenes that changed everything, mostly changing me and what character I thought I played. Some were wrought with red herrings and disturbing revelations, or deep mysteries, while others just simply had a lack of story they became lost amid my drama.

Here I am again with another plot twist. Here I face new plot lines, new characters, new scenes, and a new objective, yet filled with many familiar faces. Here I am once again swimming in a sea of uncertainty, hearing myself say, “I’ll figure it out.” But there is a particular part of me, one of the many characters that has played in the story of my life so many times before, that aches inside. I can hear her soft, broken voice whispering, “I’m tired of going it alone. My cape is worn. My boots are crusted in mud. My mask is fading and withering. No matter how tirelessly I fly from one disaster to the next, the world continues to spin and my job is never done. Who’s gonna save me?”

Though surrounded in this world by people that have come and gone in my life, I’ve always felt alone, an orphan among seven billion people. I’ve tried really hard to let people in my life, to only be met with pain, disappointment and heartache. My walls are too deep to tunnel beneath, or too high to fly above. My skin is made of steel, though it appears soft as flesh. My eyes see through the veils at what is hidden beneath, that it’s hard to see the shallow exteriors. Though I look like everyone else, I’m unique, one of a kind, and alien in strange world. Though strong and gifted, I’m afraid. Not of being destroyed by anything this world can throw at me, but that I’ll always fly alone. What will keep my feet on the ground, tether my cape, and hold me tight as I struggle to fly away?

The world will always need to be saved. Solutions will always need to be figured out. There is no day that will be free of struggle, be free of inciting scenes, plot devices, climaxes, or resolutions. But my greatest hope is that one day I will hear the flap of another cape and a soft whisper in my ear, “We’ll figure it out.”

Till next time,

~ Hopeful Heroine

Manly Man

I’ve often heard a guy talk about being ‘manly’, like his actions determine his level of maturity. But really… who makes up the rules? What is the measuring rod that determines the level of manliness that determines whether a male is manly enough? I hope to God it isn’t his ability to spit a nasty wad of tobacco half way across the yard, hit a chicken in the head, and bounce off a bell. That’s just stupid. I also hope it isn’t the deepness or squeakiness of his voice, because I’ve heard some squeaky men and some deep-toned whiny babies.

So, what truly determines the level of manliness accepted by men? Or do the women set this level of acceptability?

For me, what makes a man a man is simply the way he treats the women in his life. Does he respect his mother? Does he refer to females as bitches and ho’s? Does he treat his girlfriend like an object? Does he treat his daughter like a burden or mistake? Does he treat his sisters like they’re not important? How does a man treat the woman in his life? An imbecile treats their women deplorably… and their accomplishments, achievements or abilities mean SHIT, regardless of their virginity status or deepness of voice. An asshole is an asshole is an asshole. A manly man, in my opinion, is someone who loves, adores, respects, protects, worries, and defends the women in their life.

Also, the way that a man is in life, often determines the type of woman he inspires in life. A cheap, lying, asshole creates a long line of damaged, hurt women. But a real man, a manly man, creates a long line of strong, creative, loving, independent women.

So, I suppose there is a measuring rod for ‘manly’, at least one I use… and I hope the world has enough manly men to help build up these beautiful women. I don’t see many ‘manly’ men these days, but I do have to confess that I’ve some of the best manly friends. I can’t help but become a better woman because of them. I hope they know I love them and am proud to call them my friend. I really am a lucky girl.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

My Personal Epic Fantasy

On my jog this morning I noticed something peculiar that set my mind pondering all sorts of odd ideas. Not new ideas, but really a particular idea that’s been percolating in my mind for a very long time. It’s been years of study really. It’s also been a subject, or at least part of the subject, that’s come up recently in a few casual conversations. Mind you, these conversations are with the male species ranging from 18 to 45. You see, I’m an avid gamer, well, I’m a Destiny gamer, and 99% of the gamers I meet online are male. So, it’s reasonable to expect that 99% of my daily conversations are with the male species. I’m thankful at the moment that my roommate is female, so that way I get a splash of female perspective at times. But, then again, she’s not your typical female roommate, because if we were a lesbian couple I’d definitely be the feminine aspect of that coupling. Not to stray too far from the topic, let me bring it back to my peculiar finding.

It’s very populated where I live now. What a stark contrast from just a couple months ago when I practically lived in a Siberian wasteland and could go a whole week seeing only 2 or 3 people, if I was lucky, and only have to talk to maybe half of those if I was extremely lucky. I now can’t walk out my front door without being greeted by a neighbor or two. So, jogging around the bungalow complex, or down and around the park, or along the sidewalks by the various strip malls, I see a lot of people. Typically, I’d have my earbuds blasting away an upbeat tune to keep me motivated and moving, but mostly as an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I also usually glance at the people I pass but keep my eyes forward to avoid contact. Well, that’s NOT what I did this morning. I made eye contact with everyone I passed (mostly men, btw), smiled at them, waved, but kept moving. Every one of them responded, even the ones who moved as I normally do with only a glance and eyes forward to avoid contact.

So, what was this deep thought I had? It involves porn, but I’ll get to that in a minute. Well, this thought occurred to me when this older gentleman, clearly in his mid-50’s, perhaps early 60’s since he’s running and in shape, made no subtle attempt in letting me know he really liked what he saw. He stopped in front of me, took his ear buds out of his ears, and put both his hands up to his heart…as if to say he’s having a heart attack, but certainly not under any true duress. The smile on his face lit up his whole countenance. Against my usual judgment, I stopped. “Darlin’, I just have to say, “Wowzers”. There’s no other expression I can imagine that would fit any better.” You must remember, I’m not 25 with legs that go on forever. I’m 44, short, curvy, and have a wrinkle and a gray hair or two (with hair dye you’ll never see those). Though I look young for my age, it’s clear to see I’m a mature woman, not a ‘young, hot, thang’. I smiled and thanked him for his compliment and continued my run.

That’s not the first ‘older’ gentleman to hit on me since I’ve been here. I live on the Space Coast in sunny Florida, where the rich recreate and the elderly retire out their golden years. If I so choose, I could easily snatch up a “Sugar Daddy” or two, IF material possessions and money really meant anything to me. Unfortunately, I’m sort of a gypsy, a wild soul looking for adventure more than possessions, love more than money, and living life more than just surviving it. I’ve been in survival mode for too long. It’s time I got back to being my wild, adventurous self.

I can’t help but think about what men really want in women. What do the young want, the old want, or the lover want? I listen to the guys talk in the game chats, and while they talk a big game (in most cases dehumanizing women into sexual objects, something to be fucked and tolerated… seriously… I NEVER hear the guys talk about how a woman is beautiful, smart, amazing, something to be cherished, adored, appreciated, and such… what a culture we live in), but I believe they all want the same thing; they just have different ideas of how to obtain it. I.e. I have this one friend that falls in love easily and often. While he’s very wise on a lot of things, very knowledgeable on a lot more things, very brave in almost everything, I wouldn’t take love advice from him because he doesn’t even know what it is he really wants. While being in ‘love’ with one woman, he keeps a small circle of good female ‘friends’ on a string (not too loose they disappear, not too close to be committed) just in case things don’t work out, more than likely so he won’t be alone until he falls in love again. I’m pretty sure he feels deeply, but he doesn’t express those deep emotions, in a failed attempt at protecting his heart from getting hurt. He hurts. He’s human. Failed relationships hurt, no matter how badass you might be. He’d be quick to protest that he doesn’t fear anything, or isn’t affected when something falls apart. But what is it he’s really looking for? What is it he hasn’t been able to find yet in choices he’s already made? What was it about the women chosen before where he thought he’d found it, to only discover a short time later he can’t see that same thing to sustain it?

Not getting off topic, but shifting gears to come at it from another angle. There’s another discussion in my gaming chat groups about pornography. The guys love it. Many of them watch it regularly, especially the friend mentioned above. They think I’m a prude because I don’t watch porn. I don’t not watch it because I’m a prude or think I’m too ‘goody’ to watch it, as if it’s garbage. I don’t watch it because it isn’t necessary and I feel sends the wrong message about sex, love, AND relationships. I love porn… but not to watch. I love making porn with someone I love. Not filming our sexual acts, but sharing our sexual, emotional, and psychological expressions together, using our imagination to play, have fun, and be together in every way. Being intimate. Porn lacks ALL that intimacy and imagination. I’m not anti-porn, I’m pro-intimacy. I love to be kinky, sexy, and fun. There’s NOTHING in porn that can beat my imagination, but when I feel a man expects what he watches in porn, it stifles my imagination. I can’t fake it, so I shut down. What little porn I’ve watched was filled with a lack of emotion, lack of imagination, and minimizes sex to a mere physical act - with strangers. Does a stranger deserve to see and share that part of me, that part of my imagination, that part of my intimacy? Hell NO. Yes, I’ve done it. I’ve had a casual experience with a stranger. While it was a little fun, and sexually charged, once it was over… it was over and I was empty. Yet, I’ve had a better experience when a man I loved very much simply ran his fingers over my hair. So, I’m sorry… I just can’t get excited or get off watching other people who don’t love or care for one another fucking, and doing it in a boring way. If your sex life is like a porn scene, that’s boring and I feel sorry for you, because your love life is going to be just as emotionally empty, because you’re training your mind and your body that ‘the porn way’ is the way sex is supposed to be done. I also believe that this is the number one killer in relationships for guys, because they’ve set up their relationships like a porn scene < Boy meets girl, sparks fly, they fuck, think they’ve fallen in love because they had chemistry and the orgasms were great, but then the orgasms subside and when they look at each other all they see is a stranger. They might fuck a few more times, but then that episode gets old, that page is starting to stick, and they want to see another one, meet another stranger>… and so the cycle goes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying ALL men are like this, but many are… and they don’t even know it. I’m not harping on just men, either. There are many women in the same boat. I hope my friend someday learns to shut the porn off and swim into deeper waters, because I’d love to see him truly happy. I hope all the Sugar Daddy’s out there finds beauty in the older women they may overlook, while they’re tripping all over themselves over the pretty plastic ones. As for this gypsy, I’m still not going to watch porn, and I’ll still avoid the Sugar Daddy’s and their pockets of sweets, and keep running and smiling until I find my personal epic fantasy. I suppose that’s why porn doesn’t work for me, I’m not into the small and empty, but epic and fantastical magic. It’s no wonder my gamertag is Kvothe from The Name of the Wind. The music this Edema Rue plays has a meaning so deep the Chandrian will try to hunt me down and silence me, and the Arcanum doesn’t have enough room to record it.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Evil Video Games - Be Damned!

*Caution: This rant contains strong opinions. Weak-minded and close-minded individuals need not read any further. You've been warned.

Just in the last few days I’ve read no more than a half dozen Facebook posts linking to articles talking about the evils of kids playing video games. Yet, NONE of these articles reported any scientific facts to back up their claims, just a bunch of close-minded opinions from parents, geriatrics, naturists, and social opinionists. (Yeah, I made those last two up, but so fucking what, I’m a writer and I make up shit with my imagination.)

Before you jump down my throat and to your biased opinions, I want to warn you not to take me wrong. I’m NOT pro or anti video games, I’m just another one of those opinionists who has had the privilege to see things from both sides of the issue.

What exactly is the issue? Is gaming evil? Is our youth being corrupted by the video game industry? Are kids learning anti-social behaviors due to excessive amount of video gaming? Are we desensitizing our children to violence and corruption through video games? Is video gaming destroying marriages and dating lives?

My response: You’re the fucking parent. PARENT your children. You’re the spouse. Be the best SPOUSE possible. Quit projecting excuses of shitty relationships onto inanimate objects and activities for YOUR failures… and communicate. Quit trying to make your kids into mini models of yourself and let them discover who they are. Quit trying to force your spouse into an idealistic mold of what and who you think they should be, and let them be themselves. Did you fall in love with a person, or the idea of a person you want? Want to raise your kids right – raise them to be inquisitive. Raise them to be curious, adventurous, and exploratory. Teach them to learn, and then stand back and LET them learn, their way. Want to make a marriage work, then love the person for who THEY are and don’t be close-minded to the things that bring them joy. Try out their stuff… and encourage them to try yours… and between the two of you – find some common ground. Most of all, communicate with one another.

I play video games, and guess what? I enjoy it. Believe me, it takes skill, timing, talent, patience, determination, and dedication to become proficient with many, many, many of these games. There’s a whole gaming world out there, filled with like-minded people. Now with online gaming, chat sessions, fire-teams, and MMPG, new social skills are being developed.

As with ANYTHING, there’s always down sides, bad points, and abuse by players and non-players alike. Do you know what’s more destructive in a parent/child relationship – a parent yelling at kid, putting him down, putting down the thing he loves to do, the thing he’s excelling at, the thing perhaps his peers appreciate and applaud him for – simply because the parent doesn’t understand and they don’t take the time to find out. Because it’s different than them, their experience, or their understanding – they tear it down and look for everything negative. That’s abuse. That’s bad parenting. That’s despicable.

I watched a video of parents crying because their kids were more excited about playing video games or using their tablets than going outside and building a fort. Instead of blaming themselves that they didn’t understand their kids, didn’t know what their children were doing, surprised their kids liked something different than them, perhaps they should have taken them outside and built a fucking fort with them. I guarantee the next time that kid got into a chat with his friends, he would have been excited about telling them all about building a fort with their parents, and who knows… they may have just inspired a handful of OTHER kids to bug their parents to go outside and build fucking forts too. Instead, video games got blamed for their bad parenting. I wonder how many parents would actually take the time to go outside and build a fort with their kids? Perhaps THAT’s the answer to why some kids spend so much time on video games.

I heard a couple arguing not long ago while I was in a chat session with a fireteam during a raid. The girlfriend was in the background whining and complaining about how her boyfriend spent too much time on his video game, more time with his gaming friends than her, and that he obviously didn’t love her as much. That was an example of manipulation at its finest. This was also the same guy that often talked to us in our group, telling us of all the fun, adventurous things he and his girlfriend did all the time together, how much he loved her, how much he was trying out all the stuff she liked to do – some he liked, some he didn’t like. But his gaming time was getting less and less and less. He was a fantastic and gifted player and had dreams of playing on a MLG team, but he received no support from his family, from his friends, and now from his girlfriend. None of these ass-wipes were willing to play with him, or allow him the time to perfect his skills so he could chase his dream. In their minds, gaming wasn’t an acceptable option. Perhaps had he been a musician, writer, artist, dancer, singer, or actor he’d get the support he needed to follow his passion. Oh, wait… most of those don’t get much support either – because it’s not practical to follow an art. He’s fucked.

I don’t know why it has to be one or the other, gaming or nature, art or hobby, right or wrong. Video games are not evil. Playing video games is not evil. NOT communicating with your kids or your partner – that is what is evil and THAT is all up to each of us as an individual.

I’d love to have a relationship with a gamer, a writer, a musician, an artist, a hiker, a naturist, an adventurer, etc. I’d love to be with someone passionate about something, not some lame-assed fucker blaming everyone else for their failures, or someone who always takes the safe, practical route because it’s what’s expected. I’ve known too many of those. And… if you are one of these artists (gamers especially), perhaps the smart thing would be to choose relationships with other artists, or at least open-minded people who will understand and support your passion. If you choose a lame, close-minded traditionalist, then you can’t bitch when they bitch at you for not being just like them, or when they don’t understand you. Keep it real.

Anyway, since I saw all these blamers putting out their articles, I thought I’d put out one of my own. Bottom line: Stop blaming video games for your shitty relationship habits.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe



*Image from: http://www.zazzle.com

It's Time

It’s time. I’ve been putting a majority of my life on hold, refusing to make any major decisions, actually panicking to do so. Not because I’m afraid of change, but because I’ve been grieving, grieving a life that once was and a dream of a life that will never be. This is part of the grieving process I find fascinating. Not in a good way, but as a point of observation and understanding. When we lose someone, or go through a major shift in our lives, we grieve the dreams that died because of the loss or the shift. I had many dreams that I’ve had to let go, and their loss broke my heart.

It’s time. It’s time to finally look at all the broken pieces and start putting them together again. I can’t remake the image that once was, but I can make something new, something beautiful, a new dream. For the longest time I didn’t want to think about a new dream, because I was still hurting over the loss of the old one, but I have to let it go and move forward. That’s how life works. I will die inside if I remain where I’m currently dwelling, because I’m just existing, I’m not living, I’m not dreaming. I’m afraid. I’m afraid to grab another dream, because what if I lose it, too? Can my heart take it? Can my soul bear any more pain? That’s been my fear, still is my fear, but fear cannot stop me. It’s time.

It’s time to pull the covers from the mirrors, to open the doors of adventure, and get back to my life. I had made so many strides forward before the detour of cancer and heartbreak interfered, but it’s time to get back to progress. Pausing causes roadblocks and complications. My life is somewhat a mess because of my inactions, my indecisions, my grieving, but it’s not hopeless. It’s time I quit existing and surviving from day to day to building a better tomorrow, to striving toward new success, new adventures, new opportunities. It’s time to get busy. It’s time to let loose the woman inside me, who for so many times and so many years made shit happen, accomplished amazing feats, and scaled mighty mountains. She’s amazing and the things she can accomplish are absolutely mind-blowing, and I’m glad to see she’s waking up and taking control. I’m so tired of hearing myself say, ‘I used to …” It’s time.

Is everything going to just magically happen, opportunities going to land at my door, miraculous blessings make all my dreams come true, love come walking through the door to sweep me off my feet? Not in my experience. No, the journey is just beginning, and every success I’ve ever enjoyed required hard work, determination, drive, energy, focus and sacrifice. It’s hard. It’s always been hard. But, it’s time.

The dreams I once had are dead; they’re gone. It’s time I start dreaming new ones. I don’t care what I used to do, what I’ve done, or what I’ve once achieved …I’m a new person. That person I used to be died along with the cancer that invaded my body and the ache that attacked my heart. Those dreams, relationships and aspirations died too. Will I do similar things I did in the past? Will I be a badass, a writer, an entrepreneur, a lover, an explorer, an agent, a gourmet cook, a fitness guru, a motivational speaker, a wife, a leader, a volunteer, etc.? I don’t know, maybe some, maybe none, but it’s time I start dreaming, and whoever I become – she’s going to be beautiful and amazing.

It’s time… it’s time to live. I’m turning 44 this week. I’m starting my life all over again. Watch out, because it’s going to be amazing.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Crisis of Faith

I try to steer away from politics and religion on all social media forums… well, in life in general, because those are two topics, along with money, that destroy relationships, friendships, and any kind of ships really for that matter. It’s a hot topic. Well, I’m not here to debate any of it, just share with you a little crisis of faith I’m having of my own.

No point going into my history, just know that I had both religious and non-religious parts in my life. I became a Christian at 24 and served in the ministry for nearly 17 years. I don’t need a history lesson, nor am I about to give one. I just added that bit of information so you’d understand that what I’m talking about isn’t some idea I pulled off a meme somewhere or heard in passing. I take my faith very seriously. I think it’s probably the thing that broke my heart most when my life fell apart a few years ago.

I don’t have a problem with God, the concept of God, or really any of the teachings attributed to God. The people who claim to represent God, well, that’s another story and one I’m not getting into.

In my meditation this morning I was feeling angry, but I wasn’t quite sure who I was angry with. It could have been directed toward myself for having made a really stupid decision lately where I thought I was helping a friend, but instead was just enabling them to use me. I could have been angry at another friend that had lied to me and made me feel unwanted. I could have been angry at yet another friend that left me high and dry when I needed them most. I could have been angry at myself for being unable to make simple life decisions because I’m stuck, I’m in a numb place, a place of indecision and confusion. I could have been angry just because my pre-menopausal hormones have been going crazy the last few days and have made me want to crawl out of my skin. It could have been one of a million reasons, but as the tears bubbled in the corners of my eyes, it was toward God I directed my anger.

I’ve been reading a lot of religious and anti-religious meme’s lately. Not because I’m searching them out, but because many of my friends have been posting them in light of the Supreme Court decision to legalize gay marriage. I’ve seen them for both sides of the issue. I’m not going to debate that either. I’m not gay and I’m not married, so it’s really none of my business. The majority of these memes I know were meant to be inspirational, to give hope in a time of hardship and pain. But they weren’t. Instead they came off as condescending. Don’t tell me when I’m hurting so bad I can’t breathe that God has a plan for me – that He allowed me to go through this pain so that I can learn some proverbial spiritual lesson that’s going to make me a better person. Don’t tell me because something just became legal all the world is now rainbows and unicorns. FUCK that!!!! I’ll say it again, FUCK THAT!!! If you got a problem with my language, then you don’t need to read my stuff. I’m free to speak my mind – and my mind sometimes uses foul language.

God’s got a plan for my life? You, who thought the fucking world was flat a couple hundred years ago and crucify people daily for being different, thinking different, and believing different… have the right to tell me God has a plan for me? Don’t get me wrong, I believe GOD has a plan for me, but YOU think YOU know what it is, what I should do, how I should do it, or what I need to do to help God help me???? I don’t think so. FUCK THAT. And just because you don’t believe in God, don’t try to tell me I’m using my faith as a crutch and can’t think for myself. Both of you… get over yourselves and stop judging me because I might be different than you.

Shit happens, whether I’m good or bad, obedient or faithful. SHIT HAPPENS. I’ve had a lot of shit happen. Instead of sitting on your righteous high horses and telling me what you think you know of what GOD wants from me, for me, and about me… why don’t you just be real and tell me how you survived those low moments that happened in your life? Tell me how you picked up all your broken pieces and put them back together. I don’t want a magic solution, a supernatural fairy tale, an example of miraculous faith of God swooping down off his throne and showing favoritism because you mumbled a few magic words. Don’t tell me flowers and free love will solve all my problems.

What’s miraculous to me? Being able to love in the midst of such a cruel judgmental world, having hope for a brighter tomorrow, having the courage to chase a dream, having the guts to take a leap to follow my heart, having a compassion to love my neighbor in the middle of tension and hate. Stop telling me what God is doing FOR you, but what you’re doing for yourself, what you’re doing for your neighbor because you love them, not because your religion dictates you appear compassionate, or your lack of religion makes you appear intelligent and all-knowing. Show me your faith, what you truly believe with your actions, not your words, not your mouth, not your scripture, platitudes and memes. Some of the most cruelest people I ever met sat in a church pew or stood in a protest line holding a picket sign. Cruelty is on all sides of fundamentalism – whether conservative, liberal, gay, straight, black, or white.

I see god and enlightenment all the time in a touch, in a smile, in an act of kindness, tenderness, and compassion. Please, please, please for the love of all that is, stop trying to save me and just love me. If God is love, then love is what will heal me and help me. If love is your god, then show me that love. Just stop. It’s not YOUR job to save or enlighten me, only to love me. Let ME save ME. Let me learn what I need to know, because I’m the only one that can.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Letter From a Reader

Awww... I want to cry. I just received the following message from someone that reads my blog. BTW - I responded and told him I appreciated his letter and that I won't publish his name, but that I wanted share what he wrote because it touched me. He answered, "I figured as much. I read your blog everyday. I think I had an idea of how you'd respond. Thanks for respecting my privacy and you're more than welcome to share my words."


Anyway: Here's his message:


Dear, T.L.,


Yes, I'm writing with a greeting. I can't help it. It's how I was taught to write. I'm from the old school of things. When a man wants to write a letter to a lady, he should open with a greeting.


I know we've never met but I've been reading your blog for almost a year. I first stumbled upon it reading a review you wrote for Anthony Ryan. By the way, that was one of the best book reviews I've ever read. I purchased the book immediately and Mr. Ryan didn't disappoint. Raven's Shadow was everything you'd written and more. I hope Mr. Ryan appreciates your enthusiasm for his work.


I'm not writing to flirt with you, only to tell you what reading your blog has meant to me. It's literally changed my life. I'm highly professional and somewhat of a high profile, but inside I struggle trying to self identify. I've lived my life being defined by everyone else around me. In my case, it's been a good definition. I can't complain.


Some of the things you've written touched me very deeply. There were times I misdirected those feelings, believing perhaps I was falling in love with this beautiful soul being poured out week after week in front of me, but I kept telling myself you weren't real, more than likely a created persona to enhance your writing career. Yes, I'm a skeptic. I'm in the entertainment business and question everything. Just when I'm convinced of this created persona, you then write something so naked, so heart-breaking, you'd literally have me weeping at my desk. I knew in those times that you were a real person and you were being honest while sharing the intimate pain of your life.


So many times I wanted to write to you and tell you how beautiful you were to me. I've seen some of your pictures and think you're a very pretty woman, but the beauty I witnessed poured out in those blog posts have greatly exceeded your pretty face. It broke my heart to see you often doubt yourself, doubt your worth, and believe yourself to be unlovable. It boggles my mind how you're alone. I wish there were more like you in this world. Every time I received a new email notification that you've posted a new article, my hope was always to find you'd found your happiness. I wouldn't have to wait long when you would post again and it be something happy, something brave, something that showed you did see yourself as the beautiful soul you really were. I sometimes pondered if you were perhaps bipolar because you often went from one extreme to the next. I slowly began to understand your process. All this time I had felt like you were writing to me, or at least to a captive audience, but you were not. You were the audience. You have been the targeted reader all along. I want you to know you're simply amazing.


I don't have a blog and never will. I'm not as brave as you to expose myself the way you do, but I am taking a page from your example. I've started writing a journal to myself. The first few entries were stilted, odd, and somewhat confusing, but freeing at the same time. I'm not the same caliber of writer as you, but seeing my words on the page helped me see them in a different light and understanding. I'm learning a lot about and not struggling so much with self identity. You've restored my faith in people. You've reminded me about the important things.


I want to thank you Ms. Gray for sharing your heart with unknown strangers as myself. I sincerely hope you find the happiness you're searching for. That man will be one of the luckiest men in the world, because I have no doubt he will be loved like he's never been loved before and appreciated like he's never been appreciated before. I may not know you, but I know your heart. You once wrote a post about why you call someone in your life Beautiful. You, my dear, are the truest example of Beautiful I've ever seen. I work with beautiful faces every day, but they do not possess the kind of beauty I witness in you.


Please keep writing. I believe you're changing many hearts across this world, not just mine.


Sincerely,

Your Faithful Reader


*** With a hand full of tissues, I'm wiping the wet tears off my face and gobs of snot dripping from my nose. *** This just made my day. Hell, it's made my week, my month, and probably my year!!!!