Somehow They Always Find Each Other

Isn't it amazing how REALLY bad writers (and dressers) always find each other?

Lety, the woman Tamarack was getting his "intended to be mated" on with while sending "love" letters to a female student, was later sent copies of the letters. She asked the student for further explanation about what really transpired. The student complied. This is an excerpt from Lety's return response.

She do sing a twinkie song, don't she?

Thank you so much for your sharing, for extending your Trust to my listening.

You have strong Wind Medicine in You. The tempest of your turmoil has shaken me to my roots. Branches from my tree have been ripped and shattered at my feet. Green leaves as well as brown ones form a carpet on the sacred ground I stand on. I have put myself in your shoes and reveled in the rich texture of your complexity, and bled with the anguish of your Secret Voices, the ones that haven't found true resonance.

I looked in the mirror and realized it was really me I was looking at. The clamorous din pervaded my being, each Voice weighing heavier than the other, my back sagged, my knees buckled. My eyes flooded over with the thought fueled emotions. There was no hope, the Secret Voices were being drowned by the shrieks of love forsaken ghosts screaming for retribution, for restitution. I realized they were after my flesh, so I gifted them with it, grateful that there was something I could give for their pain. With a prayerful sigh, I capitulated. Death washed over me with its healing balm.

The Present moment was the only reality left, New Life coursed through my veins, and renewed hope filled my awareness.
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