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MacroMicroCosm Primordial Edition

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Macro/MicroCosm is an inspection into the cycles and patterns that built our cosmos & rule our lives. Introspection turns into outward study, heaven turns to earth. Macro/MicroCosm includes poetry, short stories, articles, art, & photography.

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MacroMicroCosm Primordial Edition

  1. 1. Macro Micro cosm Macro Microcosm L i terary and Ar t Journal Online preview
  2. 2. MacroMicroCosm Primordial Edition, 2014 Chief Editor: Kyle Gonchar Layout: Melissa Ratajczak Ratel Cover Photography: Eleanor Bennett 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 ISBN: 978-0-9921188-4-6 Copyright © Vraeyda Multimedia Inc 2014 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the below publishers. literary@vraeydamedia.ca | www.vraeydamedia.ca VraeydaMedia Inc 9131 207B Street Langley, BC V1M2P5 Printed in Canada
  3. 3. Poetry Prose This is a free trial copy, it is not complete. For full version, please subscribe/purchase www.vraeydamedia.ca/store 6 Change 13 Poetry Has Eyes As the Sun 63 Say No To Goodbye Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah 21 ARCHIVE ONE ROBIN WYATT DUNN 40 GENTLE RAGE SAPHA BURNELL 48 WE BELONG TO THE PLACE WE COME FROM; THE SUN SAMUEL ALDER 61 THE IRON-COVERED EARTH MARLENA BONTAS 4 THE BEAUTY OF PRIDE 22 ON MICROCOSM 62 ON MACROCOSM MELISSA RATAJCZAK RATEL 7 SMILING 14 THE GIANT OF AMMONITE FALLS MATTHEW WILLIAM ABRAM FAST 11 RUST SAPHA BURNELL 24 PENELOPE AURORA AND THE ENCHANTED MAP OF PARMA C.L. SHOEMAKER 44 BANKRUPT! WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT LIFE KATHARINE FAHLMANN 50 CAN YOU HEAR THE ANGELS SING?: FORGIVENESS SETH AYETTEY ART 9 HER ARCHETYPE ZADA HEBERT 42 SEED OF LIFE JANET MYER 1 & 64 PHOTOGRAPHY ELEANOR BENETT
  4. 4. This free trial is incomplete. For full version, please purchase/subscribe.
  5. 5. CHANGE
  6. 6. SMILING
  7. 7. The sun winks an eye In burning flames And fights the moon To drift from night's scene So it could frown on its naught of day And time, of the people's impunity Before it gets judged By the natural under its watch The sun is an eye A noble soul of the world And opines, War is not healthy, Not in my season! Debts are cancers To the well being of a country And would not eat in my wake. I, the sun will not stare whilst you hang our democracy bury leaders as paupers enslave their strength for I ask, Where thou reside O ye citizens? I, the bronzing sun will scorch the ills of man, and sum the concoctions to the moon, and activate its flare 'till I recover my bake at dawn I, the just sun befriends the light at the end of the tunnel and persuade the shadows mast to fade into the dead, And trot the sins of the souring heart to reaffirm their fates to the vows of love and peace that were marred by you and I. I will give you hope across the crowded road 'till you sneeze your noise to gold
  8. 8. somehow, as though there was this incredible urge to burst forth. Alexander turned and started making his way down the river towards the falls. He stopped at the edge of them; watching the water tumble off, wondering if he, like a droplet of water, should take hold of inspiration and leap. Before making his way back down the steep trail, Alexander turned to look back up the river. Something caught his eye. There, for a brief moment, Alexander swore he saw a faint flicker of movement. A glimpse of a woman in the dust. A hint of Inspiration. ARchivE OnE RobinWyatt Dunn I sing the body electric, My body, and your body, The rutting Rubenesque grove of civilization, Fondling all your bootsoles, Whimpering in its glee thick madness, The Internet Wayback and the piles of fruit-- Bodleian and Sumer The book and the chap, The scribble in the dump, The true number of the beast, And the hummed melody of song whispered by a librarian on her way to lunch-- The NSA is alien and it records us and we are alien and we record the NSA, And all of us electric body thrumming to the grief stricken omnibus edition of life:
  9. 9. the Pro’s and Con’s. Even without scientific data of the physical responses to biological affection, one is hard pressed to find another human being who feels no love, or has had no love felt in them. We don’t need an understanding of neurochemistry to see the way Margaret holds Joseph’s eyes, or the way Joseph makes Margaret smile and laugh when nobody could do it. We say, “Those two, it’s love.” We could watch as Margaret and Joseph meld their respective social groups and in the shift of dynamics watch a new social group bond, perhaps plus and minus a few who lost interest or found another group in the shift. If I put on a lab coat and set up a powerpoint in a lecture hall and presented my thesis on “Rogue Planets Margaret and Joseph: Star-Crossed Planetary Bodies whose Mutual Gravity broke from their Solar Orbits” and through a series of astrophysical mathematics and slides from the Hubble Telescope explained how the planetary body known colloquially as Joseph drifted close to Margaret, and in the drift ended up being caught in mutual gravity & momentum, and thus Margaret flung out of her orbit taking Joseph with her, and in Margaret’s absence from her solar system created a chaotic entanglement of void and pressure until the situation finally equalized in a new configuration, I might lose a significant amount of the crowd. How many specialists or interested parties are there in the physics of rogue planets flinging from their solar orbits and creating a situation worthy of the best Chaos Theorists in the Northern Hemisphere? How many specialists or interested parties would listen to a story about two people whose coming together created tensions and emotional balms to the other bodies around them? Some things were meant to be easier to understand. To innerstand, deep inside ourselves. It is to the eternal credit of the human race that we are able to meet interpretations of the larger scale in smaller form and come to know and communicate with them on a daily basis. The cosmos is within our realm of interpretation, for we are within our own realm of interpretation. Hypothesis: This free trial is incomplete. For Full Version, Please purchase/subscribe. microcosm = macrocosm microcosm = (little) (world) microcosm = (smaller representation) (world = cosmos) microcosm = the key to the cosmos Greek over the head and yanked it ‘fair and square’. Little world. The microcosm is important because it gives us a view of the universe we can inspect and comprehend. We might not all be able to use Keppler’s Laws of Planetary Motion, or extrapolate how many Quarks live in a nearby star, but we can come to understand how two bodies in motion, say, Margaret and Joseph, continue in their linear pursuit toward coupledom. Falling in love is as much a vector, a line of motion, as it is an intent and series of chemical triggers in the brain. Most would agree that love in all its unfathomable depths is more than: love = instinct (genetic immortality + self preservation) + neurochemicals (Dopamine [seeking & finding] + Oxytocin [trust] + Serotonin [Respect & Dominance]) + hormones (pheromones + adrenaline + endorphins) A heart has intelligence. It nurtures. We have all had a time where something didn’t feel right in our hearts. Or it felt right in the heart, but not the head. ‘Going with our gut’ can be just as indefatigable as listing
  10. 10. This is the story of a princess who had a most unexpected adventure. Now, before you say, "I have read many stories about princesses who have adventures. In fact, I just read a story about a princess last week. The bookstore has been flooded with stories of princesses and there is a library in Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany on the top floor of an old stone castle built on the tippy top of a very skinny mountain that contains exactly six thousand, four hundred and forty two stories about princesses." Before you begin with these royal concerns, the author must make one small observation (well, technically, two). I know of the library in Germany. I met the curator on a train ride from London to Paris during some terrible winter weather. We became stuck on track seven for over three hours, waiting for a snowplough and some friendly locals to dig us out. It is surprising how well you can get to know another person when you are trapped in the same train car! During our forced confinement, I learned that Hans Bendelsnap, curator of the Princess Library, hated camels, had a pet iguana named Goustave, and had once accidentally dyed his hair pink. But that is an entirely different story. What is important to our tale is that Mr. Bendelsnap had never heard a princess story quite like this one. Out of all the tales in his library – and he had read each one thirty-seven times – there was not one tale like this one. As I said, it was an unexpected adventure. Most stories begin with “Once Upon A Time,” but such an opening does not fit this tale, as the author is well aware of when the adventure happened. She has been sworn to absolute secrecy to not reveal the exact location or the precise moment, but she may reveal just a bit to you. Our adventure occurred during the reign of King Ezekiel the Great, ruler of all Parma at the Eastern Sea. You may have studied your history in school and wish now to inform me that there is no King Ezekiel in your textbook, and you would be right. There is no Ezekiel because you are not supposed to know about the land of Parma or the world of the neighbouring elves. If you were to wake up in the early morning to watch a beautiful sunrise, and squint as much as you could towards that pink colour in the sky, you might be
  11. 11. able to make out the mountains of Parma and the Eastern Sea. You see, Parma is a kingdom made visible by belief. Many children are quite familiar with Parma and can travel there if they concentrate hard enough (which is to say if they are left alone and not bothered by adults). However, as children grow up, they seem to think that Parma must be only in their imagination. They say to themselves, “Centaurs cannot exist, for I have never seen one in real life. A centaur has never been weighed or measured. There are no pictures of centaurs in the encyclopedia and, therefore, centaurs cannot be real.” And they fail to remember that when they were four, they met a centaur in their backyard. And by the time they have finished school, they know that centaurs cannot exist because some very misguided authors have told them so in large books with hundreds of pages. At this point, the children are adults and think themselves quiet clever because they believe that rules, scales, and photographs can prove the existence of things. But if these clever adults would take a moment to speak with some well-informed children, they might learn that they have been grossly misguided. It is upon this point that I gravely fear for our education system. That is another topic for another time. Where were we? Ah, yes! Parma. If it has been quite some time since you last visited, let the author refresh your memory: King Ezekiel lived in a beautiful palace made of glass, polished precious stones, and pink diamonds. He ruled from the throne room overlooking the Eastern Sea with the Queen by his side. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you could see through the open balcony into the throne room from the nearby hills. The King and Queen had only one daughter, Princess Penelope, who was seven-and-a-quarter years old, but always insisted she was “nearly eight.” Penelope lived in the west tower with her nurse and a pet squirrel. She also had two centaur guards (I told you they were real!) who escorted her to all royal events. Princess Penelope had been educated in all the important activities required of a princess. This included turtle herding (the turtle market was ever-growing in Parma), horseback riding, acrobatics, archery, and singing. While Penelope excelled in most of her studies, she failed to master turtle herding. It was in part due to the fact that the turtles never wanted to go where she instructed them, and they often chose to hide in the royal pond. While Penelope was vigilant in searching for the turtles, her instructors did not appreciate that she often did so by swimming through the pond in her royal dress. In the end, Penelope managed to attain a passing grade by December as a result of the frozen pond. She borrowed the maid’s broom and slid the turtles across the ice into the required star formation. On account of these unique methods, her instructors were forced to pass her for she had completed the assigned task in under ten minutes. I believe the instructors also felt sorry for the turtles who were turning blue from the cold, and therefore, a pass was hastily agreed upon. While Penelope enjoyed her studies, she often found them confusing. What exactly was a princess to do with acrobatic skills? She tried entering her birthday gala with a double back flip, handstand, and a number of cartwheels, but this resulted in her landing in the birthday punch bowl. Her technique was perfect, though the guests failed to appreciate her talent when they were drenched in cranberry juice. She was the first to admit her accuracy needed some improvement. In February, Penelope tried delivering Valentines to her favourite servants using her archery skills, but this plan did not go as expected. Penelope failed to consider that her correspondents would be moving targets, and she accidentally pinned a few servants to the castle walls. Soon the head guard complained to the King that his favourite hat had arrow-holes and Penelope was forced to retire her bow for a full month. While Penelope was an excellent horse rider, her centaur guards did not appreciate being ridden, and her own horse often left the castle stables to explore green pastures. It certainly wasn’t Penelope’s fault if she showed up for her riding lessons but her horse did not. This left only her singing. Penelope was a gifted singer. She had perfect pitch, meaning she could sing any note you asked on cue without an instrument. She could even sing an entire song. However, her gift of perfect pitch also included the gift of perfect aim. You haven’t heard of perfect aim? Well perfect aim allows someone to throw his or her voice in a certain direction, like a baseball and strike any object. It is very helpful in battle, but can be disastrous if you have a singing argument with your little brother. For Princess Penelope, it meant that she couldn’t sing at anyone or her voice would knock them off their feet, pick them up, and throw them out the door. The King and Queen discovered Penelope’s gift during her third
  12. 12. birthday when she joined in the chorus of Happy Birthday and threw three guests into the royal pond. The party became a pool party, and I believe the centaurs brought out steel drums for musical ambiance. No one was hurt, but Penelope was encouraged to limit singing to safe environments. Where is the adventure, you ask? Well, just hold on. It is coming. On a particular day, the 13th of Minch, in the year of the rising sun, Penelope had finished all her assigned homework, accidentally sung a cook out a window, and collected all her turtles. Thus, her teachers, desperate to find something for her to do handed her a copy of Elfin History Through The Enchanted Ages. While history is a wonderful topic (the author would like to state that she has nothing against individuals who lived in the past and are now dead or, perhaps, may still be alive), this particular book posed problems (the author would also like to state that she has nothing against elf history). If you actually know your Elfin history, you are aware of the excitement and activity that occurs in the Elfin lands. There are wand wars, battles for magical thrones, spell creations, animal-elf treaties, and many celebrations. Sadly for Penelope, the book which she was given was written in the Elfin language and her teachers had failed to consider that Penelope had never learned ancient Elfin. Thus, she was left in her tower with a book that looked to be filled with squiggles. They were beautiful squiggles, but they were nonsense to her. Yet Penelope was a determined student. Despite the squiggles, she flipped through every single page in Elfin History Through The Enchanted Ages. It was this determination that started her on her adventure, for tucked inside the book at around page six hundred and thirty one, Penelope found an old, folded paper. She opened it to reveal a map of Parma. This map was an enchanted, ancient drawing with a red line that went straight from her western tower through the garden, over the castle wall, and out into a world that Penelope had never seen. Penelope stared at the scarlet line and wondered why it was glowing. The only maps she had studied were the war maps in her father’s battle room, and they only included the castle, the green pastures, and the Eastern Sea. Penelope had never considered the fact that there were other lands. Geography was not included in her lessons, and now she looked upon it as a serious defect in her educational upbringing. On this map there were strange places with names like “Lake Look Under”, “the Forest of Misery” and “Hilltop Meadow”. Penelope did not think it odd that she could read the map, for she knew from the sparkling red line that the paper was enchanted. However, it did bother her that her own name appeared near the bottom of the page in gold lettering. The map read: To Princess Penelope, the Heir Apparent. Penelope did not know what “heir apparent” meant, but it sounded like it had something to do with her parents, and that was always important. What should I do now?” she asked herself. The map didn’t answer back, even if it was enchanted. Nothing appeared on the map. No ghostly voice answered her question, but the red sparkly line glowed stronger and stronger until it looked as though it would burst into flames. Penelope ran to her bedside table and doused the map with a glass of water, just in case the strange paper did decide to erupt. Nothing happened. The water rolled off the map and the red line continued to glow. Maybe I should follow it?” At this thought, Penelope decided that she should prepare for such a journey. She did not know how long it would take her to reach her final location, but she hoped to be back in time for dinner. If she was travelling, she would need a coat, her bow and arrow, and her pink shoes. Penelope also decided that it was better if her teachers thought she was still in her room enjoying Elfin History Through The Enchanted Ages. The best way to leave her tower would be by acrobatic methods with her bow and arrow. After saying farewell to her squirrel, Penelope loosed an arrow, a rope tied to the end, out her tower window. The arrow secured itself in the surrounding rampart of the castle wall and, after knotting the other end of the rope to her bedpost, Penelope tightrope-walked her way down to the perimeter wall. She was greatly relieved that she could finally put her balancing lessons to good use. Standing on the castle wall, Penelope jumped down to the other side. Landing on the grass, she was surprised at how high the wall looked. The castle suddenly seemed extremely tall and large. Taking out her map, Penelope traced the red line with her finger to her first destination: Lake Look Under. Determining the correct direction, Penelope set out on the dirt path that aligned with her map. The first five minutes of Penelope’s adventure were exciting, for she had never been outside the castle walls. The grass looked different – a bright
  13. 13. This free trial is incomplete. For the Full Version, please purchase/subscribe. www.vraeydamedia.ca/store macromicrocosm.tumblr.com swimming skills to use and made for the surface but when she reached it she hit the clear blue barrier. The pixies were laughing. Their lips curled back into grins, their sharp teeth flashed, and their horrid giggles rang out as they watched her struggle. Penelope panicked. She would drown. The mermaid swam up beside her and pushed against the barrier. Penelope banged her fist against the solid water. "It is a spell. No one can break it.” The mermaid spoke, her voice clear under the water. Penelope clutched at her throat. She needed air. Air? Her voice. Her gift of throwing. Could it possibly break the barrier? With the last ounce of strength and air left Penelope sang out a phrase “Break, and let me breathe.” Her voice reverberated through the water, building, throwing the mermaid down into the depths of the lake, and with a final thrust, shattering the lake’s barrier into a thousand tiny white pieces. The shards flew into the sky and then disappeared. Penelope broke through the water and gasped for air. The pixies stopped laughing, let out a collective gasp, and flew away in fear. Penelope clutched at the shore, exhausted and breathless. She was about to climb out onto the grass when a voice stopped her. How did you break the curse?” It was the mermaid. Her head bobbed above the water and her voice sounded like the rushing of wind. “I have not felt the sun or seen the sky for hundreds of years.” "I sang. I have a gift,” Penelope explained. “I am Arawell, daughter of the last Sea King. I was trapped here by a powerful Mandril lord, a member of the first magic council of kingdoms. Thank you for freeing me. I may at last return to my people and my father.” Penelope had to catch her breath and could merely nod in response as she gasped and pushed wet hair out of her face. "I am sorry. I forget humans breathe air. Are you alright?” “For now, but I’m all wet and I haven’t brought a change of clothes.” “Oh, that is easily solved. Take some starlight or sunbeam flowers from those bushes. They will dry you in mere moments. And please, take this necklace,” Arawell requested as she held out a shell. “It is a Tallis Conch Heart. It will protect you from harm on land or on water. It is the least I can do, now that you have released me.” Penelope gladly accepted the mermaid’s gift and her advice. After bidding her farewell, she went in search of sunbeam flowers. While Penelope had seen sunbeams before, it took her a long time to locate any in the meadow. Perhaps Arawell’s eyes were stronger. A mermaid, after all, has to see underwater in the dark depths of the ocean. Poor Penelope tromped all across the nearby hillside, around the lake, and even up to the edge of the forest in search of sunbeam flowers. Even though she walked in the sunlight, her clothes were still soaking wet and she was chilled to the bone. She wanted to turn around and go home to a warm fire, hot chocolate, cookies, and her mother. But something urged her to continue her search. At the very edge of the hills, right where the forest began Penelope finally found what she needed: a small patch of bright yellow flowers. Penelope was about to pick them when a deep voice stopped her. "What do you think you are doing, little one?” Penelope jumped and turned to see a large black Clydesdale standing among the trees. He was bigger than any horse she had ever seen in her father’s stables. He was certainly larger than her own horse, and he seemed to be a creature of importance. His eyes were a bright blue, like two shining crystals, and his hooves gleamed black among the forest moss. I was trying to become dry,” Penelope answered, her teeth chattering as she spoke. “And how did you become wet?” “I was pushed into a pond by some murderous pixies,” Penelope snapped. She was beginning to become cross. Being cold, wet and tired will do that to a princess. It is difficult to remember your manners and social graces when you are dripping wet and shivering. “So that was you?” “What was?” “That earth shattering cry that disturbed all of the Enchanted Forest.” “I was trapped. I was going to die and I saved a mermaid,” Penelope protested. “And what about the rest of us?” “Pardon?” The horse sighed and appeared to be making a decision of some importance. Finally, he spoke. “My name is Reginald. If you want to become dry follow me. There is a cottage one mile out. Bring the sunbeams. Silly merfolk think they know earth matters. You’ll need to boil them first or you will never be dry.”
  14. 14. “Yes, Mother.” Astride her palomino, Penelope’s mother leaned forward in a beautiful red dress and beamed down upon her daughter. “Then I am very proud of you my dear.” “Proud?” The King gasped. “But Geraldine, we cannot encourage disobedience and lack of responsibility. Penelope knows not to leave the castle grounds without informing us. She must always tell us where she is going and take a royal centaur—” “Dear,” the Queen insisted with a warm smile, “we are not encouraging disobedience, but rather encouraging bravery, loyalty and self-sacrifice: all traits of a good king or queen. I think our Penelope is smart enough to know not to do this again. I believe she will make an excellent and wise queen one day.” King Ezekiel simply stared in shock at what he was hearing. “I will second that blessed fortune, and hereby swear the assistance and protection of the Elves from the North if Parma is ever in need of an alliance in war,” the Elf King spoke from where he had silently observed his men and the conversations.. “I dare say the Sea King will offer his promise of protection. I will speak for my herd, and for myself, when I promise the Princess eternal protection, should she need it,” Reginald offered with a bow. After these generous promises, the young prince stepped forward and bowed to Penelope. His clothing had returned to its original pristine condition before the curse, and he looked as a prince should look. “I, too, should offer my thanks to you, Penelope for coming to help me when no one else would. To thank you for your bravery and loyalty, even when I was cruel, I offer you this artifact that was in our family for years. I hope it will bring you what you seek.” The prince reached into his jacket pocket and produced a roll of paper. Curious, Penelope took the scroll and opened it. “Oh, look Reginald,” she cried. “Another map.” The King and Queen looked at each other with great concern. “Oh dear,” they said. Oh goody!” cried Penelope. END GENTLE RAGE “I scar easy, watch the scissors.” Quiet eyes, Electric blue Distills you Instills you It fills you with espers Aspirations with your fears. Breathe deep. Devils don't stand for you... You are God's Boy. Fighting Fighter with swollen knuckles. SAPHA BURNELL @USURPERKINGS
  15. 15. JANET MYERS began to paint DNA codes, spirals of life and patterns of fractal dimensions. Honey combs within the waters. Beings emerged from the forest within the trees, and Seed of Life was born. Janet Myers is a UK-based visual artist.
  16. 16. BANKRUPT! WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT LIFE “Katharine,” my husband said, a catch in his voice. Whatever Dwayne was about to say, intuition told me that I wasn’t going to like it. “I’m listening,” I answered, leaving the floor his. “I need you to come to the bank with me and sign some forms.” Mostly my husband was a strong and proud man. At that moment he seemed more lost. “Okay,” I agreed, not bothering to ask what kind of forms. Banks lent people money; we obviously needed a quick cash influx. “What time?” I asked, sensing his deep sadness and not mentioning the lone tear edging his clouded brown eyes. Protective instincts kicking in, I momentarily considered closing the distance between us and hugging him. But I knew my husband well enough to know what he needed at the moment was space. “Ten, tomorrow morning,” he supplied, lowering his head as he turned and exited the room. “Your debt-to-asset ratio has greatly affected your credit rating,” the loans officer said, his expression sober as his shoulders squared off with Dwayne. “Quite frankly, we aren’t confident that you’d be able to fulfill your payment obligations.” We wouldn’t be able to fulfill our payment obligations? Did I hear him correctly? Nervously reaching for the papers I studied our bleak financial picture. “There must be some mistake,” I said aloud, inwardly realizing that there wasn’t. My husband hadn’t revealed all the facts and figures before our appointment; nevertheless, I knew our financial situation wasn’t ideal. Turning to facing me, the loans officer said, KATHARINE FAHLMAN “There’s no mistake. I completed your financial profile myself. It’s accurate.” Deafened by the hysterical trample of inner screams, I’m not certain if either the loans officer or my husband responded. Like a thousand horses stampeding, hoofbeat after hoofbeat, clatter pounded against my temples as the room teetered and my face flushed red hot. “Excuse me,” I muttered, standing and heading for the office door. Things like this happened to other people, not to us. Somehow having found my way to the ladies room, I gaped in the mirror. The sweat-speckled crimson ‘me’ looking back seemed foreign and odd. My legs too weak to support the shock of my mangled new reality, I braced against the sink before splashing cold water on my face. I still couldn’t ground, seemingly floating out of my physical body and into a weightless dimension. Taking deep breaths helped to somewhat reconnect my mind and body. Counting to ten slightly calmed my anger, as my overwhelmed mind frantically sought to assign blame elsewhere…anywhere. Our financial safety was gone. Sad, hollowed and numb I dragged my sandbagged feet down the hall and back into the reality room. A quick glance at my husband told me that while I was absent, his conversation with the loan’s officer had been strained. Locking eyes with Dwayne, my heart flipped upside down, but landed safely. There had to be a way out of this mess. On the way home from the bank that day, I recalled how many weeks earlier, Dwayne and I had talked to a debt management consultant,
  17. 17. acting as a liaison and offering suggestions; reducing resistance and avoiding unnecessary arguments with someone you love. Should you be faced with bankruptcy, the first step I recommend is taking an inventory of your assets and resources. Add up what you do have, not what you owe or don’t have. You will be surprised at your tally. We still had our jobs and were allowed to keep some assets. Our debts were not completely wiped out. We still had to pay a predetermined ‘outstanding debt balance’ which we’d earlier negotiated with the help of our trustee. Thanks to an old boss, who helped rather than judged, Dwayne worked a second job and that money went toward reducing our residual debt balance. FYI: Reestablishing your après bankruptcy credit rating is less complicated than you might think. Dwayne’s longtime bank lending officer advised and approved a Registered Retirement Savings Plan loan for Dwayne. Thanks to this earth angel, my husband’s credit rating began an immediate upward swing. While waiting to again become a good financial risk, prepaid credit cards, cell phone plans, and car purchases are still attainable. Dwayne and I learned about bankruptcy the hard way—we couldn’t maintain our debt load. Don’t let that become you. Within the world of finance there are many escape hatches and solutions for ordinary folk. Our government is acutely aware that thanks to the constant onslaught of media fueled consumerism and credit card companies willing to fulfill our lifestyle dreams via unsecured debt, personal bankruptcies continue to rise. To this end, legislation is in place to ensure citizens caught within the buy-buy-buy frenzy, or who find themselves in an unforeseeable monetary bind, have a chance to recover financially and start over again. But long before you get to where you need to be bailed out, take personal financial control. One safeguard we now use is dealing in cash, rather than bank and credit cards. Counting out what you pay for groceries, clothes and entertainment keeps you aware that your hard-earned dollars are slipping away. When declaring bankruptcy, be mindful that your self-respect and confidence are at risk of plummeting out of control. Should anyone close to you measure your value as being the sum total of your assets and bank balance, take a deep-hearted look at whether to continue with that particular relationship. Those who empathize and support you in spite of your financial troubles are worthy of your continued friendship. Those who don’t, obviously need to re-evaluate their priorities. No one enters bankruptcy easily. It’s an anxious, guilt-ridden ordeal, during which the financially stressed person continually berates him or herself. Should bankruptcy become the unfortunate fate of someone you know, regardless of anything you might think about their financial irresponsibility, trust me, your loved one is doing a much more thorough job at deprecating themselves than you ever could. My advice regarding any time you find yourself considering saying something hurtful to someone, stop and think—it only takes a second to wound a heart that may take a lifetime to heal. The most valuable asset Dwayne and I saved was our marriage. Take heart and feel the hope, there is life after bankruptcy. What your life will look like will be up to you. Count your blessings and be thankful for your truly precious assets—health, love, family, and friends—they will be instrumental in helping you through. The chain of positive events that has occurred since I turned my earthly destiny over to God continues to amaze and inspire me. Every morning, I wake up and read a sign that I posted on my wall: “Good morning, this is God speaking. Today I will be handling all your problems, so just relax because I don’t need your help. Thank you for your trust and understanding. Our spiritual guides are always with us. Ask your higher-power for guidance and then watch carefully and listen openly. I think you will be pleasantly surprised by the people and answers that come to you. The Heartmind Wisdom Anthology www.heartmindwisdom.com
  18. 18. we belong to the place we come from; the sun Livingintheheart, wediscoverthesacredart, ofrowingourboatdownthestream, whereourshareddreamsburstattheseams, Samuel Alder with gratitude and grace, we put theleft and right oar and water splashes our face, asthe truth twinkles because of the sun we let go and are at one, givinggrace its rightful place, not a single distraction ameliorates our face Claritysetsonourbrow,wearerememberingandlearningexactlyhow, tomanifestwhatisbestsothatthisearthcanonceagainbeblessed: wewon’trunawayfromthismomentbutliveinthenow. Ripplesandreflectionsareonthewater,wegiveourallandsometimesfall; in,butitdoesn’tendthenitjustbegins,goosebumpsarewhatwefeel, whenwearenotskimmingbutswimminginthewatersoflove,acrystalclearfield, theninspirationswoopsdownlikecloudsfromabove, remindingusofanytruthorlovewehavelost: Wediscoverthingsbelowthesurface, feelingwhatisreal,thedeepnolongerconceals; somethingbecomesimmediatelyclear,thesunlivesinus,trust! Aboveandbelowareone. andwe’realljoininginthefun,we’reinitforthelongrun! Toshinelikethesunisourdestiny,todiscoverthebestinyouandme, learntoharnessthe4elements;Earth,Wind,Water,Fireintherightorderwilltakeusbeyondanyborders;alwayson, higher,lower,higher,oursoulburns,itisfire,inner,outer,wholeworldsitinspires. Nooneknowshowitwasallmade, that’swhatmakesthisgamefun,it’snotjustacharade It’sdifficulttotellheadfromtoe,whenwearealwaysonthego, Thatiswhywemustlearntogowiththeflow,andjustknowthemusicinwhichourownsoulisimmersed,thesong whichfromourheartandlungslongstoburst,
  19. 19. Giveitspacegiveittime,itisadivinevine,onedoesnotpickgrapesbeforetheyareripe, that’salmostacrime. Discoverthedirectionleadingawayfromsenselessslaughter,motherearth,sky’sdaughter,haveaplan:torestoreall ofthislandandendwhatnatureabhorsnamelywars,whichareendlesslyboringchores:everybrokenbonemustbe healed,violencehasnoyield…afamilywillmissitsmembers,justlikeatree,feelsallofitsroots,theyaretender. Wearestridingalongthewayofpeace,notslaves,butbraveones,soletusmasterthisbeast:theimpulsesofthe body;nolongergivingourselvesovertofeelingswhichcanonlybedescribedasshoddy.Rememberingthedignity ofbeinghumanandwhatitmeanstosaytruthfully„GodLovesMe“. Weknowthepaceandtherhythm,we’resmilingbecauseit’salreadygiven!Heavenhasacode,andofitthereisa node,itpulsatesinourchest,ifwelistenwecanknowitandbeblessed it’snotmatterORmindit’sboth,solet’sdowhatwelovethemost,knowthattheanswersareinourhearts,there’sa placeforusontheark,aplacetofreeourdivinespark,aplacewherewecanalwaysrestart, whereagemeetsyouth,lovedoesn’tseemodd, butyouknowthetruthofgod:godislove, andthat’swhynooneisoutofplace,thatiscertainandtrue,youreallydon’t needtofeelblue,becausewhiletheycallthisthehumanrace, knowthathere,thereisoverflowinggrace. That’swhatmakesiteasytokeepthepace! SoLet’salljoinintheheavenlymusic, whichthesunbydaringtoshineallnightlong, keepsplanetsmovingon,whilstsingingitswonderfulsong, TheSoulisthegoalofthissong,andwhenyoulistentoityoucandonowrong, Becauseitiseverythinglighttouches,andlet’syouknow:youtrulydobelong. Vraeyda Literary is OPEN to submissions. Visit vraeydamedia.ca today to feature your fiction, non-fiction, poetry, art graphic novel in future issues of MacroMicroCosm Literary Art journal. Full Length Manuscripts Accepted.
  20. 20. Chapter 12 Forgiveness
  21. 21. hundred days by radical Hutus out of racial hate, political rivalry and hunger for power. What this nation needs most now to be able to forge ahead in development as one people with one destiny and to break the cycle of tribal hate is forgiveness. One of the finest acts of forgiveness towards this end in Rwanda has been captured in the book, “Left to Tell” by Immaculee Ilibagiza. The subtitle to the book is “Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan holocaust”. Immaculee’s family fell prey to the atrocious murderous acts of their neighbours. Blood stains remained deep in the soul. Yet, Immaculee discovered the most important part of the holocaust: evidence of the presence of God in the midst of death and decay. Her Tutsi father had been instrumental in educating children both Tutsi and Hutu alike. A God-fearing Hutu priest had hidden her and others away from blood-thirsty members of his tribe. When the holocaust ended, some of the perpetrators were arrested. Among them was the person who killed her family. When she was asked if she wanted to meet the leader of the gang that killed her mother and her bother Damascene, she replied, “Yes, I do”. The assailant Felicien, was sobbing before her in shame. Immaculee reached out for his hand and, to the surprise of all, said, “I forgive you”. When Immaculee was asked why she did not question Felicien or spit on him but rather forgave him, she answered, “Forgiveness is all I have to offer”. The evidence that Immaculee had truly had an encounter with God manifested in her attitude towards the person who tormented and butchered her family and who had also hunted her with murderous intent. Need I say more! What a beautiful story. What an action of true love by one who, together with her family, had suffered treachery at the hands of people they had loved and cared for but who hated them sorely in return. Like Immaculee, all I have to offer those that treated me and my family cruelly is the best in me: forgiveness and love. ThE IRon-CovErEd Earth MaRlena Bontas I don’t know any prayer To wake up the dead from underneath the shallow ground Sing with me the song of rain To help those lives rise again To new beginnings. Darling, say you’re not my father And that you’ll not make me burry you In the backyard among flowers and plum trees That bloom in the spring. Daddy, you are not my lover But you have bit my vein for a decade or so, Should I pray with you for my sake? Daddy, don’t turn me into you, I am a princess and you are a dog that carries my crown Release me from the dream of life that you hid Under the mountain of your pain. I am not a fascist lover I am not a bag full of babies that can’t stop crying If you give me God on a plate I’ll suck the faith out of your bones Until you’re done. Daddy, I am not your mother Or the healer of you iron heart Leave the garden of your dreams to dry out And send me a flower So I know you care. Father, I wanted you I wondered who you are for so long There’s no hammer strong enough To break your iron shell.
  22. 22. OOnnMmaacCRorocCoossmm Melissa Ratajczak Ratel A girl walks up to a man, “I forgive you”. A frame of reference is needed to make sense of any given action or effect. Take away one of the axises which makes up the modern human experience, and the walls crumble down into paper thin line segments dashed across a horizontal plain. Like the Sphere coming to visit in Flatland, all the magnificence of depth is squelched for a simpler path. How can it be the Square’s fault to doubt the existence of a 3rd Dimension, when being a Square, he’s had neither the education nor the experience of such a vast place of x, y, and z axes? The microcosm can only function within a larger scale. Like a first year chemistry student rectifying both sides of an equilateral equation, we can fumble with the jargon and sling Carbon atoms from one side to the other in risk of odd precipitates until some mean and unimpressed Professor tuts our way and sends us off to the Teaching Assistant. There we may find a gentler coach, who comes to us with simpler equations and the plodding patience of the underemployed. Better yet, find a Teacher with perspective. My Martial Arts Master describes to his Staff that anyone, with the proper application of “Monkey See, Monkey Do” can teach a martial arts technique. Add some time, and one can become proficient at teaching the physical demands of Taekwondo. It takes a more advanced instructor to be able to teach those same movements with the application of a quality of technique. Speed this week, Power the next, down a line of adjustments to create a less flawed example of a Round Kick. We’re closer now to the Platonic Ideal kick. The instructors we must seek are those which teach the motions of an interest/pursuit, qualities to improve and a greater feat of mental and emotional aptitude. This instructor teaches the art of a round kick, while also teaching humility, confidence, attitude. It’s the coach in soccer who teaches duty and teamwork alongside a winning advantage and footwork, the music teacher who sits their student down and although the student was proficient at the melody of a piece, demonstrates the emotion and spirit behind it. It could be the mountain a climber @vraeyda spends three months learning to climb, which along with physique and a view of the outdoors taught focus and perseverance. It could be the storm hitting a ship mid-ocean, where sailors wrestle to maintain control, then learn to slowly give way and float with the current to safer waters. It could be the sound of a young mother pleading with an infant to calmly fall asleep. Mother’s here teaching security in a higher power. Lesson learned, that infant grew and in their mother’s time of need or withering age threw their arms around her and says “I’m here, I haven’t forsaken you”. Without the larger perspective for an event to sit within, that action can mean nothing. A girl walks up to a man bent low, peers down in his terrified face, and says “You killed my family, you tortured us. I forgive you.” He breaks down in tears. Immaculee walks away a hero of forgiveness and grace. Healing, in Rwanda. The action is the same, yet through viewing the larger scale, a new understanding breaks the ice of flippancy and easy shoulder shrugs. In our first issue, we watched the sun rise with laughter, over the way a group of German musicians discovered beauty, fantasy and inspiration in the Scottish Highlands. We’ve seen the heart of a woman peering for a brief moment at a broken-knuckled man, and seen the swirls of light and love reformed into a forest in Seed of Life. Alone they are pieces of identity, academia, metaphysical poetry and the view of a man after a fight. Looked at from a larger distance, what is it we see? On behalf of the contributors and staff of Vraeyda Literary, thank you for cracking open the spine of this primordial edition. We hope you come back to vraeydamedia.ca and check out more works of these authors, artists, musicians and filmmakers. With love, Melissa Ratajczak Ratel C.E.O.
  23. 23. MichaEl Kwaku KEssE Somuah Someday, I will go to heaven and fall in love with the world of children to a thought of smiles and breath of fresh air. Someday, My heart will sing a song of love, in a Holy City where you would belong and dance to paintings of life eternal Someday, Precious stones of diamonds would not be a pleasure of the eyes milky meals on the menu would delight those who succumbed to death Someday, I will wed my arms open to the basking souls who lived at peace with me and all men SAY NO TO GOOD BYE This preview is incomplete. For the full version, please purchase And subscribe. www.vraeydamedia.ca/store macromicrocosm.tumblr.com
  24. 24. www.vraeydamedia.ca 1st Edition 1st Issue Winter 2014

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