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My mother, Evelyn, dropped out of school when she was in 8th grade and was kicked out of her mother’s home. I don’t know much more than that regarding my mom. I only spent the first six years of my life with her. I imagine she lived life how any 13-year-old would living on the streets – constantly in a state of not knowing: where a meal would come from or where she would sleep, and doing whatever was necessary to earn those taken-for-granted items. And I imagine also that that is what led her to be in a truck stop the night my father, Franklin, was passing through. She was eighteen years old. Details of that meeting have been lost to the passage of time. Maybe they sat in a corner booth, chatting over coffee. That’s how I like to view that moment. What I do know is that the very same day they met, they did much more than chat. And the result of that “conversation” is yours truly. I wouldn’t say I’ve physically struggled with that; but, perhaps it has jaded me. Can you imagine being told, as a child, how you were conceived? And only rationalizing what that actually meant much later, when you became a little more seasoned in the world? I wasn’t born of love, but rather of a 45-year-old man who liked younger women and a woman who wanted to be loved and taken care of because she couldn’t take care of herself. My father told me he stayed with my mom because that’s what people did back in those days. “If you got a woman pregnant, you married her. That’s just the way it was.” Twist the knife a little deeper.

I look at birth, at the moment of conception really, as a Big Bang (no pun intended) on the minutest of scales. The moment the sperm joins the egg, masterful entanglement begins. Mini Big Bang. There is no energy that comes from nothing, that has been proven. Energy cannot be created; it simply changes forms. So, the energy that expels at the moment of conception – it came from somewhere. I’m a science nerd of sorts, so follow me here: the moment at which conception occurs, where the energy is no longer on the other side, but not quite yet on this side, that moment – that miniscule moment – is the Event Horizon. Moving from the womb into this plane of existence is yet another Big Bang, with its own Epic Event Horizon.

I must have been awfully comfortable wherever I came from, because I certainly didn’t want to be here. I started life on this side having to be cut out of my mother’s stomach. I can just imagine, had they done an ultrasound at that very moment, my hands would have been against the uterine walls, outstretched to keep me from going anywhere, feet firmly planted – breach. But, that type of behavior is not tolerated in these parts, and they knew exactly how to keep me moving. At 6:30 pm, on the dot, I joined those on this side after an emergency C-section.

This would not be the last time that I would illustrate my abhorrence for this side. It would take some time before I would figure out that my powers of manifestation, my m.a.g.i.c.,

Manifesting

And

Generating 

Intentional

Creations

was indeed real; but, in desperate need of fine-tuning.