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Zoe Turner

I have never truly fit in with my peers. In early grade school, I had a good amount of friends my age, but by the third grade I was reading at least five grade levels above them, and had discovered my love of the written word. I immersed myself in literature as my peers immersed themselves in pop culture. My friends grew closer to each other, as I delved into my own world. A world of fiction and fantasy. As the girls fell in love with the boys, I fell in love with my favorite characters. My vocabulary expanded to the point where large, polysyllabic words were part of my normal speech, and I had to repeat and tailor my sentences to speak to my peers. This trouble communicating pushed me further from my friends and closer to my books. I chose to live my life between the pages. It was only a matter of time, I suppose, before I discovered what reading had given me. I had developed a command over the written word which I could use to create my own stories. I could share my own thoughts efficiently and creatively, and I could make it sound beautiful with the ways I could craft the syllables to my whims. Words became better friends to me than humans. Over time I have discovered myself as a writer and poet. However, I have not lost my interpersonal relationships. I have been in love, I have been hurt, I have learned to interact with my peers, and I have had the experience one receives in high school. I have taken my experiences, both real and read about, and told them with words. I have learned from life and literature, and developed a depth of maturity that separates me from my closest friends. They come to me for advice because I have an understanding of issues that has proved helpful to them, in the rare situation that they actually enact it. However, when it comes down to it, the superficiality of my fellow high school girls pushes me away. I have tried and failed to open up to my peers and have effectively, though rather unfortunately, created a vast distance between them and I. Now here I am, unable to connect with my peers on a satisfactory level, and I feel a deep loneliness despite however many people surround me at any time. I have, to my dismay, dug my own hole, -- the nature of this hole I am still unsure of, could it be my own grave, I don't know -- but I have opened up a bottle of hurt and placed myself in a crippling depression. My own ignorance has been my ruin. I put myself on a plain above my level, and when I finally came down, I came crashing down only to find that I had pushed myself too far away. I have friends whose sincerity I am irrevocably unconvinced, and I have my own thoughts. Thoughts full of pain and resentment. I used to, desperately, blame others for it, too. I blamed my peers for not being on my level, and even my doctors for treating the ADD which could have kept me back from becoming too knowledgable. However, now I see that I am alone because I put myself in solitary. It is as regrettable as the physical scars which I have made on my wrist and gut: the emotional scar I have carved in my own heart. PS: I have a bit of an affinity to Willow Trees...

Sonya Ki Tomlinson

Namaste, Although I am now residing in sunny Florida, I grew up in Queens, New York. I am the eldest daughter of Jamaican, West Indian immigrants. We were a lively family, five siblings altogether with plenty of love and joviality to go around. From early on, I loved creating stories. My brothers and sisters also keenly enjoyed listening to them. But, being the natural artist, I preferred to retreat into the silence of my room surrounded by my dolls, where we would embark on all sorts of imaginative and adventurous tales. My siblings would listen with their ears glued to the bedroom door, occasionally a giggle of delight escaped from the other side of the door. This interest in story telling gradually metamorphosed into the art of penning poetry. Over the years I have written many poems. The fascinating thing about the imaginative process that I've observed, is that there seems to be some sort of bridge that connects us to the creative source. This is similar to what I experienced in my childhood, a quiet space within, beyond me where creative ideas flow endlessly. On another note, I am also an artist. But, LOL, all of my paintings tell a story too. My work is a visual and poetic diary of my spiritual journey. From the highest peaks in the Himalayas to many of the sacred ashrams in holy India I have been blessed with the opportunity to journey through that divine land eleven times. My spiritual quest began on June 6, 1970 with the birth of my daughter. During the birth I had an amazing out-of-body-experience which catapulted me out of ordinary three dimensional awareness into an astounding, metaphysical reality which I know survives and surpasses death, misery, joy, materialism and all that is dualistic and worldly. A space of being in which Pure Love, Life and Light exists Eternally. This event inspired me to explore the intriguing inner realms of Self through Yoga, Meditation, Rosicrucianism and other spiritually laden paths. I have written two books. The first, "Sai Rapture, The Ecstatic Journey of a Modern Day Gopi " portrays my spiritual journey. The second book, "108 Bhakti Kisses, The Ecstatic Poetry of a Modern Day Gopi" is a garland of poems celebrating the divine in everything.




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