Past The Wall of Tears

A Passionate Plea: Thank You!

2011-12-08T11:07:00.013-08:00

Greetings Everyone!

I want to "Sincerely Thank each one of you!" who have very faithfully followed, and visited my blog on a regular basis. Your participation and feedback is very, very encouraging! From now on, I will use as my regular blog- my website: http://godwinbarton.com/

As I do lead a very busy life with a full time job, exercise regime, and making time for friends and family while the whole time staying "Artistically Creative," I've made a decision to post more regularly. I've written many more poems and have five more songs ready to go for recording. This all takes time and money...a lot of money! I also have a very amazing children's book completed and looking to get published, along with a book of poetry. I continue also to do presentations- as a musician, singer/song writer; author/poet; and professional story teller.

My producer, and "Liquid Tension Music" were most gracious in fully financing me for my first professional CD release to the exact amount of $6,500.00 hard cost, and an extensive amount more for miscellaneous. Now, it's up to me to make the money for the next round of recording, and to begin making the music videos that many of you are asking for. Here's where you come in. I beg, and plead to your kindness, and thank you for your already existing support: If you have not yet, can you please go to itunes, CD Baby, e-music, Amazon, or any other large number of sites and make a direct purchase of my CD, or individual songs. I promise you, by the amazing response to my music from everyone who has already purchased...you will not be disappointed. It is being loved by everyone, every where, and people can't seem to say enough great things about it. Also, can you please pass this information on to everyone on your social sites: facebook, twitter, My Space, and any others. Please, I have a dream; and together, we can make this happen. I am a very talented, gifted, and passionate poet, musician, and story teller. It brings me no greater joy than to share these gifts with the world. As I do my presentations in song- music, poetry, and story telling; literally, people are moved to tears, sometimes crying uncontrollably from the beginning to the end as my words pierce into their being- in the beginnings of healing, hope, and inspiration. I share with you my heart; I give to you my soul. I give you the stories- unscripted, unedited, and true. After a presentation, people can't hold me long enough in an embrace of extreme gratitude with a heart full of thankfulness. This is what I want to share with the world; the gift of life, the gift of hope, the gift of inspiration. My stories are many: from interactions with the realms of the supernatural and spiritual (yes, these things are real), and great, extraordinary experiences and events in daily living- to the guidance by dreams, and the realms of the prophetic. There are stories of struggle, destruction, death and annihilation; to hope, endurance, peace, beauty, and love. Then there are stories of pure enjoyment; of happiness. There must be a balance in all things.

I don't have the backing of major corporations or commerce; but I do have a producer who fully believes in me, and my musical talent, gifts, and abilities- so much so that he/they, were willing to place thousands on the line and hope for the best. Please, I, we, need your help.

I thank you again from the deepest parts of my heart, and my soul: you are all truly, truly wonderful.

The new songs too, are absolutely amazing; I know this, because the people who I have played them for already, are lit with excitement, with joy...and can hardly wait for the final, recorded versions.

Wishing you all a very "Merry Christmas and extremely prosperous New Year!"

Again, thank you!

Sincerely, and most lovingly...

Godwin H. Barton

"Today Is A Brand New Beginning For You."

2011-08-29T01:30:00.005-07:00

Greetings!

I had a very significant dream last night; I just have to share it. I had a nephew, named Melvin, who was an incredibly, happy-go-lucky person. People just loved being around, and near him- he was that kind of personality. In my dream, the two of us were sitting on chairs facing each other. He looked at me and said, "Today is a brand new beginning for you." Then, smiling most graciously, he reached for my hand and said: "Congratulations."

My dream ended. Why is this significant? In all the years that Melvin was alive (he died a few years ago, I believe in his late forties), I never dreamed of him. Now, a few years after his death he comes to me, radiant, and with a beautiful message.

I can't help it...I continue to look forward to great and mighty things. God is so good.

Sincerely,

Godwin.

Life Gets More Exciting With Each Passing Moment!

2011-08-26T12:10:00.005-07:00

Greetings!

Check this out...it's yet another component to my musical journey that my producer created for me: I have the greatest producer in the world! He's a "magician, a magical musician" and, "simply the best!" My songs were loved by many before the recording, but my producer has taken them beyond all beauty imaginable...and has given them life beyond my comprehension. Thank you so much!

Link to Vinyl, on-line Showcase: http://whocanthisbe.viinyl.com

With "Heart-Felt Gratitude and Appreciation."

2011-08-18T03:45:00.013-07:00

Greetings!

As you may have noticed by the CD Baby badge at the top of my blog page...I have released my debut mini-album "Your Presence," as of August 9th., 2011.

How this all came to be is quite miraculous in itself. It all began with a very, very specific whispered prayer back in February 2011. A prayer about footsteps and meeting someone, also very specific, a meeting ordained of God and blessed of Heaven. I had no idea who this someone was, but I knew that God knew- and the feeling that I had, it was a meeting for a very specific purpose. I could only trust Him. It resounded so clearly in my heart, and in my spirit. As I prayed, it was too that the words were given to me directly so that I wouldn't miss a thing. I prayed that the Father would ordain our every action together, this person and myself: that, every action that needed to be made, would be made, and that nothing would be left undone. I also prayed that every word of our conversation that we needed to speak, would be spoken; again, that no word would be left unsaid. It felt so important. This beautiful, February morning, was prayed one of the greatest, yet simple, life changing prayers I've ever prayed. I couldn't resist- the urge was too strong.

On my lunch break that afternoon, at a chicken stop near my work place, I stood at the till ordering my food. Then "tap! tap! tap!" on my shoulder. I turned, and very surprised, exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! Hey! What brings you here to this neck of the woods?!" My very good friend and colleague, responded, "Well. I was driving by, coming to the intersection, happened to look up and seen you standing here. I quickly spun my car around and had to come and see you." "Wow! What a delight!" Being that we hardly connected in person and would see each other only at our sometimes, bi-monthly meetings, his popping up was a real surprise. Our conversation continued, about work, and an up-coming audit. When we finished with the formalities of "audit expectations" as I'd been through a couple of them already, myself, and passed, he asked, "So! What else is new?" I responded, "Well, you know I'm a published author..right?" He said yes. "But did you know, as a poet, I'm also a singer/song writer?" "No. I didn't know that. What have you written?" He too is a musician and has recorded his music professionally. I told him about my song "Your Presence" and my great desire to record it- professionally. I told him also of the few other songs that I'd written. He then said, "Hey, I know just the guys for you. Here are their names and contact numbers. Give them a call and they'll gladly help you. I know them personally, and they're great." I held onto this contact info for about a month and hadn't yet made a move. Then, the voice within: "Make the call." Then began this incredible journey.

Being a poet, it's almost a given, if you can play a guitar or piano, eventually, you're going to try your hand at composing...music that is. Knowing a few cords on the guitar, six to be exact, I began to write music. For the past ten years I had this song "Your Presence" which was inspired by a very lovely, young lady friend of mine. I've played this song many times over the years for many people; every one loved it. Not too long ago a teacher friend of mine asked, after I did a session of music, story-telling, and poetry reading for her class, referring to the song "Your Presence": "Have you ever considered going professional, doing music for a living?" She then said, "You're very good. You should consider it." I prayed too, over the years, that one day I would get into a recording studio- if anything, just to record "Your Presence".

On March 12, 2011, for the first time in my life, by the Great Grace of God and extremely generous hand of my producer, Jason, of Liquid Tension Music, I was in studio doing pre-production work. Jason, by his absolute and unwavering belief- in the strength and beauty of my music, in the magnificence of his arrangements, took my songs beyond all beauty imaginable. Now, five months later, the release of my debut mini-album: Your Presence.

I am so grateful for everything that has happened in my life.

I had to mail out complementary CDs and "Thank You!" notes to some very special people who are thoroughly promoting my album. As I wrote, this was spoken clearly into my spirit: "New acquaintances in our lives are additional feathers to our wings- that help us fly." I send this to you all also...with much love, respect, friendship, and appreciation.

Thank you so much for your support.

From my heart to yours...Godwin.

Link to CBC3 Page: http://radio3.cbc.ca/#/bands/Godwin-Barton
Link to Website: http://godwinbarton.com

Cherry Blossom Dreaming.

2011-07-30T15:47:00.008-07:00

Hello!

This is a posting I placed on a social site some time back. It's just something I felt in my heart to write, to post. I received a few very passionate, heart-felt responses before it was flagged for removal. Women, searching for true love were deeply touched by the post's content: its honesty, depth, and sincerity. I guess for others it touched on too great a truth- that ultimately, there is the one out there who is our soul mate; the one who is ultimately made singularly for you, for me. In the direct or indirect acknowledging of this truth, or simple exposure to it, I feel, in denial, many choose to flag this post for its removal because it aroused feelings of discomfort within them. Its removal does not negate the possible truth- that there is a "Soul Mate" out there for you, for me. Too many of us just settle for the one that we think "Is the one," often giving up because of loneliness and not wanting to be alone, rather than letting life and love take its natural path- that would ultimately lead us to our one true love. In the same breath, maybe we do have to go through a few broken hearts and "lost love experiences" before we meet "the one." Also, the post touched on the concept of a "God," I do believe in God, I do believe in Jesus; I am not a man perfect by any means- but given the atrocities, challenges, and struggles of my life and the obstacles which I have had to over-come to get to where I am today...He's always been, and always will be: My best friend. I write this also having been through one failed marriage.

This post is based on a dream that I had one year after my separation. Today, three years and three months later, my ex and I continue to get along and are very, very good friends.

Posted: March 31, 2011 5:00 AM.

You're the most beautiful being that I've ever seen. When I seen you- I stood in awe: mesmerized, speechless...smitten: completely. I looked, I stared- my eyes could move in no other direction than to look deeply into those starlit eyes that shone with the sparkle of diamonds. The eloquence, beauty, and elegance of your stature totally enraptured my heart; my soul- the entire universe stood still, as a soft voice spoke gently into my being: "There she is..." My heart raced, rampant with passion. My spirit reeled; my soul danced. Excitement, happiness, and joy fail to describe fully all that I was feeling at that moment. I was elated, ecstatic, moved deeply with emotion as tears welled in my eyes and rolled gently down my face at the sight of you. First, because I thought that I would never find you- that we would never meet; and second, as each day ended and we still hadn't met, I had no idea how I would continue to carry the burden of the love that I had for you. It was becoming pain, heartache, and even torture. I had no idea who you were, where you were, or what you looked like. I had the image and the description that I often offered to the Father as I prayed. I knew that you were strong, spiritually, and beautiful internally and externally. I had so much love to give, so much love to share. As long as we hadn't yet met, my day ended as it always had: alone, in the agony of another whispered prayer. Somehow, I always found the strength to believe- I refused to give up. Now, here you are: The warmth of the tears rolling gently down my face reign in blessing.

Suddenly every tear cried in the secret place is given substance, depth, and meaning. Every prolonged, agonizing moment of waiting is given purpose. Every question answered, by your presence.

I tried almost desperately at times to make the dream come true; only to come to dead end streets, disappointments, and broken hearts. Finally I gave up the search and thought, "Maybe God doesn't need my help. He knows what's best for me and in His good time He'll send her to me. He'll cause our paths to cross. And when we see each other, we will know."

This God of mine has never failed me and does truly know what's best. If He gave me the dream, this desire, then in His appointed time it will come to fruition. In waiting for you, I had to believe this. This was my hope. After all, how much more symbolic can a dream become than that, of a "Huge, fully blooming, Cherry Blossom Tree" on the beach of my reserve in far northwestern British Columbia, immediately below my sister's house. The tree rooted and grounded deeply, where the water meets the shore. My sister and I on the boardwalk next to the tree, staring in complete awe, "How is this possible?" The blossoms: huge, beautiful, and of the loveliest pink. The leaves: the brightest, radiant green. The trunk: strong, and immovable. Under clear, blue skies, as the waves lightly rippled against the shore, splashing gently toward the tree. It was absolutely beautiful.

I knew your country; your nationality; your origin. I knew that once we met we would become one: rooted and grounded- passionate and beautiful. A love birthed under the clear blue skies of heaven and nourished by the elements of earth and water- these things, eternal. I knew, when I seen you, that you were mine. To do away with even the slightest shadow of doubt it was necessary for the voice to speak internally to confirm this- to know of a certainty, that ours would be a love to last a life time; and that daily our love would be renewed, unending, as the waves that ripple endlessly against the shore. With every passing second we'd fall hopelessly in love with each other- over and over again.

I thank God continuously for the Cherry Blossom Trees that line the many streets of Vancouver. When I look at them, I think how wonderfully blessed I am to have you. I smile, and whisper, reaffirming my love for you. You don't know this, but the moments that I am away from you- I tell you a million times that I love you; and that I miss you. How exciting it is to know that in a few short moments or hours I will be with you again- it makes everything that I do more enjoyable and fulfilling. Everything is given life, purpose, and meaning. My "Beautiful Cherry Blossom," I can hardly wait to see you again. I love you so much.

End of Post.

Two years later; I still wait, believing...in the prophetic and absolute possibility- that dreams do come true.

If you've found love; hang on to it- and fight for it when you need to. If you've found love, it's a beautiful thing- don't ever let it go. A very good lady friend of mine said, as I shared with her my desire for an Asian companion: "Godwin. Maybe you shouldn't limit yourself. You should keep yourself open and available for the possibility of love coming from any direction, and who knows, maybe she isn't Asian. You may have to go through another relationship or two before you find the right one." There's great truth in her words. And maybe, just maybe...

Sincerely,

Godwin.

Electricity: The Cyber World

2010-10-23T11:20:00.011-07:00

A Dream I had the morning of October 20th, 2010.

I was in an area that was an entrance to a sky train station. It appeared to be the Rupert Street Station, a ten minute walk from where I live. I was on my knees immediately in front of the entrance. My head was tilted downward and slightly away from an incredibly bright and blinding light. This light was the lamp which hung immediately to my left from the entrance ceiling and there were no other lights. Its brightness was like that of many lightning bolts; incredibly blinding and pure white. Even with my eyes closed I could see the complete brightness, just as if my eyes were wide open. Standing before me was a very young, beautiful woman; she appeared to be Caucasian. She stood about three to four feet in front of me, enshrouded in, and totally unaffected by the light. Though my eyes were closed, I could see her clearly.

She asked, “What happens to the electricity once it’s used?”

I replied, “It gets recycled and is used again. Each time it becomes more powerful than before.”

Some how, I knew she was talking about love.

My dream ended.

This dream comes just as I am going through an “internet dating break-up” after three months. I’d been slightly broken, but now I’m fine. Sparing much of the details, we had never met, never seen each other- other than the exchange of pictures, and never talked directly- she didn't speak English. However, she was learning. For the most part, ninety percent of our communication was done through a translation site. Bottom line, by the end, we had fallen completely, entirely, and totally in love with each other. We had become so enraptured with the "idea, image, and fantasy," of each other, that we became the essence of each others world entirely. I couldn't wait to be on line with her; she was all that I thought about: twenty-four seven- I lived for her, I breathed for her, and literally, worshiped the ground that she walked on. She said it was the same for her- calling it "Crazy Love!" Saying that she'd never ever experienced love and feelings like this before. It’s interesting isn’t it, the parallel of my dream: “Electricity, the Cyber World.” The “Pure, Blinding, White Light,” the essence of love, and the dialogue, the message: “Love will come again, more powerful than before.”

They Were Fierce and Powerful!

2010-05-11T13:56:00.020-07:00

Greetings!

This is a dream I had the night going into Mother's Day, Sunday, May 9th., 2010.

My brother Hubert (Pops! Short for Popsie- a nickname given to him in his youth) and myself were in a very green, grassy area. The place was surrounded by huge mountains. Pops was laying on his back looking toward the clear blue sky as the sun shone brightly. I was sitting cross-legged next to him. The sky suddenly became dark with a fierce darkness: a darkness so deep, so black, so thick, it was unlike anything that we had ever seen. It wasn't a scary darkness, it emanated in immeasurable strength, power, and glory. Suddenly, there was the sound of thunderous winds, as that created by many mighty wings. The sky grew even darker. As this was happening there was a faint light that encircled my brother and myself. One of our sisters was sitting near by, watching, about eight feet away as this miraculous scene unfolded.

Pops and I looked to the sky. In awe we stared. Flying by the hundreds, even hundreds of thousands, were eagles so huge, vast, and powerful. Their sere numbers caused the sky to darken even more. Against the darkness we could see the silhouetted shapes of these gigantic beings. The length and shape of their wings- impressive, moving with precision, exactness, and presence. Their feathers- some jagged and ruffled, were those proudly worn and told a story of warriorship and victory in battle: they were warring eagles. They were conquerors and undefeatable. They were majestic, and they came from every where.

A huge ball as the shape of the moon appeared. Silhouetted against the light of this object was the upper part of an eagle as it would appear perched on a branch of a tree. Its head was turned to the right. It was distinctive, also powerful, with a beak perfectly defined accentuated in strength, power, and might. Its eyes piercing and bold. Another eagle flew past, thunderous, glorious, and mighty, and as it did the ball erupted into an explosion of light. The explosion was as a thousand lightning bolts put together that shot blindingly through the darkened sky. As quickly as it appeared, it subsided.

Pops and I sat in great reverence before the scene that unfolded before us. Instinctively, I raised my hands to the sky in adoration and respect- as one does when honoring the Father: King of Kings and Lord of Lords. I began to chant, repeating the phrase over and over again: "Eagle. Come to me. Eagle. Come to me."

I had within me a great expectation. Forming out of the darkness, and coming from directly above me, falling toward me, were two beautiful eagle feathers. They were large and black. Excitedly I exclaimed to Pops, "Oh my God. Look!" The feathers drifted lightly into my hand. Pops and I wondered in amazement. The feathers were over-lapping. I parted them with my thumb against my fingers. There, in the middle, was the most beautiful, pure, white eagle feather that we had ever seen. Perfectly shaped and as white as snow. I looked at Pops and said again with reverence and respect, softly, almost whispering, "Oh my God." Facing Pops, who was now sitting cross-legged as I was, I asked, "Do you want it?" He said yes. I gave to him the white eagle feather. My dream ended.

My dearest brother, Great things are in store for us...and it has "GOD" written all over it!

As I reflect further on this dream, this is what I feel, as I sent further thoughts to my nephew regarding his dad, my brother, Pops:

I love and miss you guys so much! I feel very strongly in my spirit that great things are in store for our family...especially your dad. This dream tells me that as God really begins to do his work in our lives (your dad's and mine), that the heavens- the realms of the supernatural and spiritual, will all be in our favor. As the feather was pure, perfect, and white...so it is to be within our spirits in this place to which God is taking us. Take care and be blessed! Share this also with your dad. Love you!

Poster: Ten Eagles by Gardner. www.people.jmu.edy

Up Dates!

2010-02-03T15:43:00.009-08:00

Greetings!

I often receive direction from my inner-most being, and as of late, have really learned to follow this. I also have a very, very close friend who is a teacher/librarian. She is an elderly lady who is a christian, born again and spirit filled. In the time that I've known her she has followed my writing career very closely. She has cautioned me and counseled me as she has noted the success in my life as a writer/poet. She knows too of my blog and has asked me to pay special attention to what I post in regard to my poetry and stories. Yes, she has heard me too as a story teller. By many of my friends within my literacy circle, noting me as a very accomplished poet, I've also been referred to as a "Master Story Teller."

I've been blessed as a writer, author, poet, and story teller. I acknowledge this and I'm very, very grateful.

As I've sat and reflected on my success to date and soon coming (major!) publication, my soon to be published children's book- and another project that I am working on, my book of poetry on which I am doing a final edit (for sure this time! I always say this and revisit the manuscript and again...guess what: I always find words more profound, radiant, colorful, and beautiful!)- in some cases, entire verses of poems have changed!

I feel internally the direction to not put all of my work (entirely!) on my site anymore. If you have been following my blog as I know some of you have, you will see that I've reviewed my blog and have edited certain poems and writings. In each case I've left only excerpts of certain poems and writings. The writings, because these are integral components of the book that I'm working on: "I Once Stood Over: An Eagle In the Wild." The poems, a few I've left fully in-tact as I feel these are deep, very meaningful, healing poems that for me helped me through great family loss and challenge and I know will help others. Death is an inevitable truth and something that every person and family on earth will encounter. In view of this I have left poems such as: "You'll Always Be My Baby Sister"; "I Think About You"; "The Two Best Friends of Mine"; and "The Nights Through the Seasons: Brothers Forever," fully in their entirety.

As a born again, spirit filled believer, I've learned to follow my inner voice and spirit. This has never, never failed me. The bible says: "There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven." As I was thinking on my writing and my blog, I thought, "It's time to revisit my blog, edit it, and remove certain writings." The reason, first, for the many major publications I know are now coming my way and many of these writings are in some way a part of it, and second, plagiarism. I know for fact, as other author friends have shared with me some of their stories, one in particular, of certain verses/lines of a poem which were stolen from him and used in a song, that people do plagiarize.

I'd like to think that everyone in the world is honest and trustworthy; but, in all actuality, this is not the truth. There are people out there who just don't care, are corrupt, and will do what ever it takes to make it, to be in their eyes- successful...even if it means stealing some other person's work.

If you're out there and you've used any part of my writing in any way, shape, or form (without my express written permission or consent) to enhance your writing, singing career, or for financial gain- I will find out. Things, internally, and by dreams just have a way of coming to me. It's always been this way.

I pray, if you've followed my writing you've done so out of appreciation and that my honesty, truth, and humility has in some way touched you and made you a better person.

Sincerely,

Godwin.

Photos: Left: Taken at the Spaghetti Factory while celebrating my 11th Year Sobriety Birthday: January 30th., 2010. My very good friend commented: "You look like an author, an artist."

Right: Presenting to a room full of authors/poets at a major literary seminar in Vilnius, Lithuania, Summer 2009.

Letter to a Friend: Recovery

2009-12-22T12:45:00.017-08:00

Greetings!

Please pardon at times, what may sound like pessimism (literally translated- act of seeing only the bad side of situations, or, expecting the worst).

I appreciate your trying to conquer your last length of clean time. I believe we as recovering alcoholics and addicts all at some point in time came to this resolve in our processes of recovery. As I reflect on this "proposed period of time" I realize now it is just because I (we) were not really ready to quit, to completely surrender- and the only reason we made it through these proposed periods of time is that WE KNEW that we were going to use again- in fact, it was the plan.

In this particular scenario it is not true recovery but the simple acknowledgment of the passage of time with no real "inner work" being done. You see, recovery begins on the inside...with the heart, the spirit, and the soul. People who have achieved inner peace and sobriety and still have it now, many, many years later are those that took the chance to take the journey from within.

It is true- alcoholism and drug addiction is merely the symptom...the real problem lies within: our brokenness, sadness, disappointments, hurts, angers, pain, deep rooted blame and unforgiveness. We can talk until we're blue in the face about how great we're doing and how much clean time we have but if the work is not done internal, I promise you on my mother's grave and on God's Holy Word, we will be using again. Then, it will be worse than before and we'll sit in the stinking(ness) of our addiction and alcoholism, crying in our pity-pot wondering what went wrong. Well, it's simple; pray for the courage, strength, honesty, humility, and determination to face our inner demons and LEARN TO FORGIVE! Quit blaming all those ones who for years we thought were the source of our problems and anger. Take a long look in the mirror and say: "Well! It's not my mother! It's not my father! It's not my brother, sister, aunt, or uncle! It's not my best friend! IT'S ME!!!! IT'S BEEN ME ALL THE TIME!!!! HOW BLIND COULD I HAVE BEEN!!!! I'M THE ONE WHO CHOSE TO HARBOR THIS HURT, ANGER, RAGE, BLAME, AND UNFORGIVENESS! I'M THE ONE WHO HAS CHOSEN TO LIVE IN THIS WORLD OF MISERY!!!" Get off that high horse of self-centeredness, humble yourself- and start apologizing and forgiving others. Yes, if they've hurt you- acknowledge that hurt- this is important too! But deal with it effectively, properly, and productively- this is possible. FORGIVENESS IS KEY!!!! There is no other way! There isn't! And there never will be!

I appreciate that you aim to go for three months of clean time; but, why stop there when so much good is under the bridge.

You want my brutal honesty? You've been hurt! Acknowledge it! Look at it! See how it has shaped your life, even destroyed it and the game you play is one of "Russian Roulette." One of these days you're going to take a bad hit, and, guess what, you're going to wake up in a place a billion times greater or more, than the torment you suffer now: trust me, I know.

You want to get well? Yes, ninety meetings in ninety days is a good thing; it worked for me! My challenge to you in your proposed ninety day sobriety goal- do the work internally, and come and tell me after ninety days that you want to use again. If you do, then you're free to do it. No one will hold you back or try to persuade you otherwise. Do it, put in your ninety days internally: feel great, love life, be born again and anew, quit blaming and forgive. After ninety days, if this is not good enough for you- you're free to "PICK UP YOUR MISERY AGAIN AND GO DANCING SADLY OUT THE DOOR!"

I hope this answers your questions and addresses the concerns which you had.

The response was:

Thank you for spending the time that you have on your reply. It was quite lengthy and you put a lot into it! Yes, I understand what you are saying...but, I know I am still not ready to entirely quit. My co-dependence is too deep, so I want to take smaller successful steps to bring me there...because I DO want to get there someday, and I really am not happy with my willingness!

My reply:

I know no other way- if you're not ready to quit- why put yourself through the misery of the ninety days? Use until you're ready to quit...and, if you don't die during the process- maybe you'll have another chance.

The final word:

Most excellent. One thing you do have is the desire...and really, this is really how it all begins. I pray you make it through.

Sincerely, and truly your friend: Godwin.

PS: By the "Grace of God, through brutal honesty, humility, and forgiveness...on January 30th, 2010, I will be eleven years clean and sober."

Two things that were said to me and I held onto through the earlier years of my sobriety and still recite today: 1) And this too shall pass. 2) By the Grace of God...there go I.

I hope you find what you are looking for...

Photos: 1) Mountain side road in my home village- Kincolith. Recovery is a journey toward the light! 2) Angel Warrior: static.squidoo.com "Go for it! You are not alone!"

The Supernatural and the Spiritual

2009-12-06T02:18:00.004-08:00

Greetings!

It's 2:18 am on a Sunday morning. Around 1:00 am I got through about a two hour phone call, although it seemed like minutes, with a very good friend of mine- we were talking about things supernatural, and the spiritual. These topics, with many of the people that are my closest friends, are the things we talk about the most. It is such a wide ranging topic so effectively approached in biblical truths and based on many of our live's immediate experiences. There does truly exist, the realms of the supernatural and the spiritual: these things, they are real.

I Just Want to be a Writer!

2009-12-02T21:22:00.019-08:00

Greetings!

I just want to be a writer...the deepest and most profound thoughts of my heart, mind, spirit, soul, and body; the feeling and emotion that swept through me as a mighty rushing wind as I walked along the banks of the river that separates New Vilnius from Old Town. Tears streaming down my face in absolute gratitude as I looked to the clear blue sky with hands raised in victory and praise, semi-shouting, with cracking and crying voice, "Thank you! Thank you Father! Thank you! I only want to be a writer! To be known and recognized as a writer! Thank you!" I continued walking, weeping joyfully and thankfully, swept away in a whirlwind of gratitude. Walking back toward Old Town after picking up every newspaper that I could find, eighteen in all, having been told by our director after a morning workshop: "Godwin. You'd better go and grab the newspaper. You're a local celebrity. Your picture is in the paper, actually, more than once." I quickly ran over to him as he showed me the story and the photos. I peered excitedly and then ran. Having had dinner at what had become one of my favorite stops- Fortas Restaurant: elegant, stylish, classy, and affordable. The food, fit for kings and queens and excellently presented, I sought the assistance of a waitress. "Excuse me. Do you speak English?" "Yes. A little bit." I replied, "Good. A little bit is all I need." Reaching for the newspaper which was entirely in Lithuanian, I asked, "Can you interpret this for me, please?"

I began by explaining to her who I was and why I was in Vilnius. A local newspaper had gotten word about the two week literary event being held at the Institute of Vilnius University and the many world renown authors and poets that were in attendance, also, the many participants that had come from Canada, the US, Africa, and Europe- seventy plus in all. They sent a reporter and a photographer. They appeared at an evening reading that was going to feature some famous Lithuanian and American writers. Myself, being the social butterfly that I am, noticed the reporter and photographer and approached them.

Walking toward the one holding the note pad as she was scribbling away, I smiled and said, "Hi! How are you?" She smiled back as she spoke perfect English, "I am well. And how are you?" "Very well, thank you." Looking directly at me she asked me if I was an instructor or a participant. "I'm a participant." She then asked, "What is your name and where are you from?" Her questions then came swiftly as she scribbled and scratched with each word that I spoke. In our exchange she learned that I had a web-site, a blog. As we talked there was the continuous sound of the camera shutter taking pictures it seemed a hundred shots a minute. The reporter, looking very delightfully at me with the most gratifying smile said, "You can look at the camera and smile!" Looking toward the camera I naturally smiled the biggest smile that I could find accompanied with light laughter. Her final question was, "Will you write about your experience in Lithuania on your blog? Specifically, about your experience in Vilnius?" I replied, "Yes, of course, when I find the time. To be quite truthful with you, the program is very, very structured and full, we're kept very busy. We've little time to do anything else during the day but all that is required to meet program requirements." I continued, as she listened very attentively, "I will, as soon as I can, up-date my blog and definitely write about Vilnius." She smiled very pleasantly as she thanked me for my time. The camera taking one last shot as I turned to walk away.

Opening the newspaper and showing the waitress my picture, pointing to the captioning beneath the picture, "Can you interpret this for me, please? I don't know what it says. Can you help me?" Looking at the photo and then to me, she exclaimed,"Oh!" Smiling a very excited and gracious smile, pausing a moment, and then again, "Oh!" as she looked at the photo and again at me. "Oh! That's you!" "Yes. That's me." She stood there smiling, staring into my eyes, her face graciously lit and elated, her eyes sparkling- one final time, "Oh!" I chuckled as her reaction sparked my spirit, "Please. I'm very, very flattered. I need your help. I don't know what this says. Can you interpret it for me- please?" "Yes. yes, of course." Reading it first to herself, she turns to me and says, questioning and with excitement, "You're a writer?!" "Yes. Yes I am." She smiles heartily as she reads:

"It says your name is G. H. Barton. That you are a writer from Vancouver. And that you write about Lithuania on your website."

I say, "Thank you," as she continues to stand before me, glowing. Her smile, face, and beauty...a sight to remember. Finally, after a few moments- she turns and continues her duties.

Note: Click on the image for a larger picture.

Sibling Hurricanes: Fred and Linda

2009-09-10T23:22:00.018-07:00

Greetings!

Today is the eve of my birthday, and what an amazing time it has been already!

It began with my ex-wife calling me late noon to inform me about what she had been reading in the Hungarian News: Hungarian scientists tracking two hurricanes, over the ocean, which had formed in the recent day(s). She then asked me, "You want to know what they named the hurricanes?" I said sure. "They named them Fred and Linda." I responded, "No way! Really!" She said, "Yes. Hurricanes Fred and Linda." I then felt a great surge of energy, emotion, strength, and joy! The titles read:

Hurricane Fred in the Atlantic, Linda in the Pacific both expected to weaken

Fred and Linda, as stated in earlier posts, were two of our siblings who passed away five months apart, four years ago. Fred, on September 24, 2005- and Linda, on March 4th, 2006. It was a great loss.

Here they are, visiting, on the eve of my birthday- TAKING THE WORLD BY STORM! What greater way to make their presence known- I feel electrified, motivated, and energized! I feel so much emotion, strength, and hope! I feel love!

One article begins, and notice the term "sibling":

hu Sep 10, 6:11 pm ET

MIAMI (AFP) – Hurricanes Fred and Linda both lost their punch Thursday and the sibling storms were expected to fizzle in coming days without threatening land, forecasters said.

Photos: Click on the images for a larger picture. NOTE: On the larger picture- the date of my birthday: Friday, September 11, 2009.

Left: Hurricane Linda
Center: Aerial View- Hurricane Fred
Right: Hurricane Fred

Fred and Linda were my absolute best friends in the whole world!!!! Coincidence or miracle? MIRACLE!!! I can't help but feel: "WHAT AN AWESOME BIRTHDAY PRESENT! MAKING THEIR PRESENCE KNOWN!" I feel them so deeply in my soul right now...it's permeating. I'm tearing and choked (pleasantly!), I miss them so much! This is so amazing; I couldn't ask for a better birthday present than this!

"I love you my brother and sister! Thanks for dropping by!"

Cheers!

Godwin.

Climb, Until Your Dreams Come True

2009-09-04T15:25:00.010-07:00

This is a dream that I had, Saturday, September 01, 2007. I recorded it at 5:14 am.

I was up in the back woods area of my home, Kincolith, with a few other men. We were in a gym like setting, they were playing basket ball. One of the men, also a Barton, my cousin, asked me if I was going to help them with the pilings. I didn’t respond as I did not know for sure what he was talking about, and, I knew inside myself I did not want to commit. I walked out of the building. I was walking with my nephews Donald and Desmond. We were walking through the ball field area and the water was very, very high. I looked at the old wooden boardwalk that went from the field to the main village and asked my cousin (although I don’t remember him leaving the gym with us), referring to the posts supporting the boardwalk, “Are those the pilings that you were talking about?” He said no, and as we were now walking on the boardwalk, he pointed to some pilings (poles) that were sticking out of the water not too far from our right, and said, “Those ones. Those are the ones we need to change.” They were just some poles sticking a few feet out of the water; there was nothing special about them. They weren’t very large poles either, rather short and thin. It was obvious the poles served some kind of purpose, as they were coated in creosote to protect them against rotting in the water. I looked, and questioned internally, as they did not seem to serve any real purpose. They reminded me of the poles in Venice on which gondolas are tied to. These were going to be dug up and replaced. I continued walking up the boardwalk. The waters were very high all around us, in a flood like state. At this point, I was again with my nephews Desmond and Donald; my cousin was no where to be seen.

As we were walking, the waters rushed against us covering the boardwalk completely, running just above our ankles. Now, it was just Desmond and I. We held hands to support each other- as the current was slightly strong; he was walking a step ahead of me. We were talking, he mentioned something and then said, “That’s what your dad would have wanted you to do,” increasing comfort as we continued to walk against the water. We were now off the boardwalk and on to a small, narrow, path of ice. Desmond was still walking ahead of me. He slipped; fell backward, and I caught him. He regained his balance, and I looked at him and said, “And I didn’t even step off the ice.” Rather strangely, a school bus went by, and one of the kids was looking out the back window, pounding softly on the window trying to get our attention. I looked; he shouted pointing toward the sky, “Look up there!” It was now dark.

To my amazement, in the sky, just above the mountain was the most amazing sight. Stars flowed and danced as if tied to a string, joined together at one end and flowing outwardly in many strands; like Christmas garlands that sparkled with diamonds. Northern lights danced, and flowed too in the most amazing way, as rivers of emerald green- fading, then darkening, taking on the form of shifting waters being blown by the wind, as they formed from the mountain top to the sky. It was a most magnificent sight. I was now alone. I climbed what appeared to be a tree, to get a better view. I was now on an open plateau. The scene continued before me. I then seen a huge tree, it appeared to be a cedar. The upper part of it was all that I could see, as the lower part was engulfed by clouds. It spontaneously burst into flames. I could see the form of the tree as it burned, but it was not being consumed. The flames went from one part of the tree, to the other, as it burned, intensely; I could hear the sound that cedar makes as it burns. I looked toward the center of the fire; it was the most beautiful, yellowish orange, that I’d ever seen a fire burn: it was intense, passionate, and powerful. I knelt on one knee and stared, anticipating, and amazed. I remembered Moses and the burning bush, but there was no voice. The tree continued to burn.

Next to the area, was a tree, thin and flexible. It appeared to be a young, hemlock tree. From the edge of the plateau, I set myself on a branch of this tree. I prepared to jump, but before I did, I reached for a note pad and pen/pencils that were beside me. I jumped, using the flexibility of the tree to bring me slowly, and safely to the ground. My dream ended.

Godwin H. Barton

Miracles, Signs, and Wonders.

2009-09-02T19:13:00.005-07:00

Greetings!

I lead such a charmed, and blessed life.

Today, at approximately 4:00 pm, I was preparing to do a work-out. On my weight bench was twelve cents- a dime, and two pennies. I took the twelve cents and very carefully placed it next to my stereo. The reason I did so, carefully, is that my cup of water also sits next to my stereo, and when reaching back and forth for it, I did not want to knock the twelve cents on to the floor. There was now nothing on my bench. I left the room for about a minute, and then returned.

There, on the bench, was another twelve cents- a dime, and two pennies. I looked toward the stereo, the other twelve cents was still there, exactly, where I had placed it.

I touched the coins, and could feel an energy radiating from them. It resonated through my body.

I'm expecting great things.

Sincerely,

Godwin.

Photo:
A real, "ONE MILLION DOLLARS," that sits encased in the lobby of the Star Trek Exhibit, at the Las Vegas Hilton.

For Aida: For the Moments of Passion; For the Moments of Truth

2009-08-10T11:21:00.013-07:00

I can still feel the touch of your hand in mine; In a few moments, you brought such life.

Vilnius: City Of Angels

So much beauty-
it envelops and surrounds.
So much beauty-
in the air and all around.

The faces of-
angelic beings that glow.
The faces of-
angelic beings I know.

They're everywhere-
on loan from Heaven above.
They're everywhere-
in the forms of peace, joy, and love.

Effect of such beauty-
immediately melts the heart.
Effect of such beauty-
one smitten from the start.

What is Vilnius...
It is the City of Angels.

Godwin H. Barton

Note: Click on the images for larger picture (1-top; 2-left; 3-right).

Vilnius: City of Romance, City of Angels

2009-08-06T06:07:00.012-07:00

August 5, 2009 Vilnius, Lithuania

Greetings!

I am one of the last two to leave Vilnius of the participants from the Summer Literary Seminar. The dorms, which have been our accommodation for the past three weeks, are very, very quiet. There’s a certain sadness that accompanies this “quietness” as it was only hours ago that the hallways were rustling with the voices and footsteps of many other participants. Now, there is only silence and I’ve got to endure it for one more night. I leave on Friday morning, going to the airport at 4:00 am for a departure time of 6:25 am.

I sit here heavily engaged in thought of one participant in particular. She’s young, beautiful, and a very free spirited individual. We connected in a good way over the course of the past two and a half weeks. I fear though, I may have hurt her heart slightly and this is what bothers me most. Perhaps, this is why the silence is so resoundingly sad. I had opportunity to make amends to her before she left, but, just when I wanted to talk, as one suggested- “heart to heart,” it didn’t really seem that relevant, that any previous connection we made was just that, just a connection with no real significance attached to it...we just got along and had fun together- a lot of fun (Is it like this for everyone who “just meets” and instantly gets along?) This was my feeling when I thought I should bring it up (my offense), and that I was reading too much into it. I’ve convinced myself that just as the Rolling Stones sing, “It’s just my imagination, running away with me.” Maybe there really wasn’t anything there; it’s a fantasy that I created in my mind and totally allowed my heart to feel. If this is so, why is it staring me in the face and right now, why do I feel loss for not talking to her before she left? I tell myself also that everything is alright, I mean, after all, I went to her room to visit her for a few moments last night (as she left Vilnius on an afternoon flight today) and then she came to mine, as I told her I had a gift for her, a little keep-sake and on her way out, she came to get it. Having received the gift she was very delighted, very happy; I motioned her toward me and gave her a great big hug, holding her for a few moments, and told her that I’m going to miss her like crazy. She commented on the good times we had and left my room- happy. So why do I still feel a slight sense of loss.

The morning began, Tuesday, July 28^th, 2009, with the morning lecture being canceled. I was sitting at the coffee shop having my morning treat and was about to make my way to the institute for the lecture. The group who had just left the coffee shop moments before came running back to tell me about the cancellation and that we were free until 2:00. They stood looking at each other, then to this lovely young lady who was with them, and then to me. Just as quickly as they had come, they turned and left, leaving me standing face to face with the lady who was fast becoming my friend. As they were walking away, one turned and said, “Ok. See you guys later!” “What do you want to do?” She asks. I reply, “Well. I think I’m going to go to the city, the newer part of Vilnius and just hang out, look around. And you?” “I have homework to catch up on, reading and critiquing. I’m going to look for a place to work.”

I look at her as she’s looking more beautiful with each passing day, my heart immediately forgets about running around in the city and I say, “Well, I do have reading and writing to catch up on too- maybe I’ll join you.” She smiles as we make our way to the dorms so that I can pick up my lap-top and binders. She then asks as we’re walking along the river going to old town, the more traditional European part of the city, “Where do you want to go?” “I don’t know; a coffee shop or a park? I’ll go anywhere you want to.” It’s a beautiful sunny day and she hasn’t yet been to Gedimina’s Castle which sits high on a hill that we are now passing. Pointing to the castle she says, “Let’s go up there.” I’m not going to object, already imagining the romance and beauty of the moment, “Let’s go.” The walk up echoed in the sounds of our cameras taking as many pictures as possible. Reaching the top we sat on benches that were heavily thronged by the beauty of a giant weeping willow tree. On one side of us were the ruins of the ducal palace and on the other, the best surviving tower of Gedimina’s Castle.

She looked at me as she pulled her books from her back-pack, smiling. In the exchange of our dialogue she was quick, witty, and sharp. She had me laughing. I sat and watched her as she worked- sneaking the occasional picture or two. Every so often we would break and chat, two hours went by as if they were minutes. “I’m getting hungry,” she said, “let’s tour the castle then go somewhere and have lunch.” “Sure, let’s do it!”

Gedimina’s Castle is considered to be a symbol of Vilnius. It was built in the beginning of the 14^th century, and replacing an earlier wooden one, it withstood the attacks of the crusaders. At the beginning of the 15^th century, it was rebuilt, strengthened, and along with the lower castle, composed a powerful defensive complex. Eventually it lost its importance after damage caused by the war with Moscow in 1655, it was not rebuilt. After World War II, the best surviving tower was restored and now houses a museum and an observation platform which offers an impressive panoramic view of Vilnius, both the old and the new.

“Five litas,” the clerk said. Communicating with gestures and words, the best way I knew how because English is spoken by very few in Vilnius, “Oh no. Two. Two of us.” She understands and asks for ten litas.

“This is pretty amazing isn’t it? Look at this, how huge this area used to be.”

The models in the museum depicted areas that were so vast, which were fortified with huge, thick, stone walls lined with towers. One of the models had an outer wooden wall as well as a huge stone wall. Moats were all around the fortified areas. Inside the huge walls were homes, castles, fields.

As we stood in relative awe, I commented, “Can you imagine the work that went into building all of this? And to think, it was all done by hand- there was no heavy machinery back then. Wow, amazing; the higher and lower castles of Vilnius in the first half of the 17^th century.”

The next level had us exploring the armor and weaponry of the knights. “Oh cool. Look! A knight’s wardrobe!” There were shields, swords, and other protective gear and weapons. There was also armor completely assembled forming a towering knight, two of them. Looking at my fair lady and motioning to the knight that’s shinier than the other, I say, “Go and stand beside that one. I’ll take your picture. You can tell your mom you’ve finally found your knight in shining armor!” She laughs, poses, then says, “Your turn!” Our cameras are seizing every picturesque moment, even the unplanned ones.

From the top of the tower the panoramic view is incredible. You can see all of Vilnius: Old Town and the newer part, the city. The old is lined with the distinctive, square shaped, European buildings with the orange tiled roofs, all attached to each other as they follow along the streets. On the main roofs are many smaller, miniature roofs, which protrude above the windows. There are towers, steeples, monuments, and cathedrals, all built in vastly, beautiful, breath-taking architecture: all of which is truly European; lush, green, vegetation and trees, give greater effect to the beauty that surrounds. The new is the city, like any city, with its tall buildings, glass windows, and fast flowing traffic. There is too, a little bit of the old mixed with the new.

We stand close to each other as we’re enjoying the view; the absolutely amazing, amazing view.

“Beautiful, isn’t it- absolutely beautiful.” She agrees, and by the expression in her eyes and on her face, she’s enjoying every moment of it. We pose for more pictures with the panoramic view in the back ground. I comment, “You look so happy.”

“You see that bridge over there, toward the city? It’s the second or third one over.”

“There’s a restaurant there, right on the bridge that I’ve wanted to go to. I was there as I was exploring the city when I first arrived. I haven’t eaten there yet, as I don’t want to be there alone; I’ve been waiting for someone to come along. It’s very beautifully situated. First, the restaurant is made to look like a part of a ship and, it’s right next to the river with nothing but green field all around.”

She replies, “We could go there if you like. If you don’t plan on going to this afternoon’s lecture. It’s one o’ clock now and the lecture is at two.” I think on it for about a second, again, I’m caught up in the beauty of the moment and the possibility of lunch with a lovely young lady at the edge of the river, “Ah, sure, why not.” “What about the lecture?” “Well, missing one lecture won’t hurt. Let’s go.”

“It’s a bit of a walk. How will we get there?”

In Old Town people get around by walking, biking, driving, or using a bicycle drawn rickshaw.

She says, “Let’s take one of those,” pointing to a bicycle drawn rickshaw.

The teenage driver looks at us as we’re trying to explain to him where we want to go. “Over there, the city, restaurant on the bridge.” He does not understand us. He pulls out a map. Pointing, she says, “Here, along the river- to this bridge.” He says, “Ok, twenty lita.” My feeling is he still doesn’t fully understand us but knows he’ll be fine if he just stays close to the river. Intent on sharing the cost, she reaches for her money and says, “I don’t have any change right now. I can pay you later.” I tell her, “No. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem. I’m just very glad to have your company.” We pose for a few pictures in the rickshaw before we begin our short journey.

We talk and laugh as our cameras continue documenting. I take pictures of her taking pictures. I have an adjustable display screen on my camera. I can turn it around and backward, and holding my camera in front of us, take pictures of us together fitting us perfectly into the screen. I check the picture to see how it turned out. “Wow. Look at this; very nice. Look how happy you are.” She attributes the glow to years of practice by her parents who specialized in photography.

We pass the castle in the down town area, at the part of the river where the words are written, in Lithuanian, imbedded in rows of beautiful, bright, red flowers on the banks of the river, opposite each other; on one side, “AS TAVE MY LILI!” and on the other side, “IR AS TAVE” accentuated by an enormous, beautifully and perfectly shaped heart, made of the same radiant, red flowers. As we were informed by our tour guide in an earlier arranged tour, the words translate to: “I LOVE YOU!” And, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” Such life affecting words to put next to a river that flows continuously. Love should be that way- it should just flow.

Our rickshaw is slowing down, almost, to a stop. I realize we’ve come to a very, very narrow part of the side-walk. Our driver is trying his best to navigate slowly around the pole that takes up most of the space, without having the rickshaw topple onto the street. I look at my companion, “What do you think? Should we stop and get out for a minute?” She looks at me, agreeing, “It’s probably a good idea.” I say, “Yeah. If we topple, I won’t look too good lying on the street with the rickshaw on top of me.” We laugh. We stand and watch as our driver continues his maneuver. As careful as he is, one wheel drops onto the street and the rickshaw topples lightly. We look at each other and smile, “Yep. Getting out was a good idea.”

“Here we are! Right over there- that bridge, that restaurant!”

We pull up, and before we fully disembark, I take a photo of the lovely young lady next to the rickshaw, she who is looking more and more beautiful with each passing day.

She chooses a table on the corner closest to the river. It’s such a beautiful, sunny, sunny day. “Do they serve us or do we have to go and order at the counter?” “Just a minute, I’ll check.” I return to her, “We order at the counter and when it’s ready, they deliver to the table.” “Sweet,” she loved to use the words “sweet,” and “cool.” From her, it just seemed right.

We used the bit of time we had waiting for the food, to do more studying. Actually, she did. I sat and watched her. Just being near her made me feel good and she was such a lady. “Hhhhmmm this looks good.” My dish was coiled, white sausage with sauerkraut and mustard. She ordered a wrap. We exchanged a few bites and sipped our drinks. Some how we got onto the topic of partying, drug use, addictions, and trauma: I shared with her the struggles and challenges of my life, briefly, from childhood to now; how I used to use and the incredible dysfunction that became my life. The trouble, encounters with police, and hospital visits, which were all indicators that I could no longer drink safely. I concluded, “Now, by the grace of God and his incredible mercy, I am over ten years clean and sober.” At this point she said with absolute delight and the loveliest smile to back it up, “Alright!” and high-fived me. She spoke of others in her life that had a similar story and how she helped to support them.

I then recited one of my favorite verses, from one of my poems:

“Wishing to be a child releasing laughter in the rain-
only one way to go, again walk through the pain.
Character, wisdom, knowledge, and strength-
seek only to be thy attributes, event after event.”

She looked at me with her expression of continued delight, and said, “Now that I’ve heard a part of your story- that makes perfect sense.”

We finished our meal, then continued with our assignments; we read, critiqued, wrote, for at least another couple of hours. Somehow, her presence took away what can be the arduous task of studying. Again, the hours felt like minutes. We then made our way toward the mall, the Europa. We needed to find a place for her to mail her post cards. Although the malls are nice in America, there seems to be and added “touch of art” to many of the malls here in Europe- the Europa was no different. In its interior, its classiness, elegance- in its uniqueness, it is very structurally appealing. They’re just different, some-how, and fancier.

“Hhhhmmmm a chocolate shop!” she said happily as we made our way through the door. Looking at the wide assortment of very attractive and fancily decorated chocolates, “What’s in this one?” The clerk explained, “That one is made with cinnamon filling.” “Oh, I’ll take a couple of those.” Before the clerk even had a chance to put the chocolates in the bag, my friend was already picking and choosing other chocolates, shooting her questions rapidly, “And this, what’s in this?” It was a joy to watch her, as the expression goes; she was truly like a kid in a candy store. Those were the best chocolates I’d ever tasted, as they went from her mouth, to mine; they were truly, delicious.

I left her for a few moments and caught up with her in an accessories store a few doors down. I asked her, as I'm also looking for gifts to buy for my sisters, “Have you found anything that you like?” She looks at me smiling, “Well, I did find a really cool necklace that I like, and I’m trying to decide whether or not to buy it.” I say, “Show it to me please.”

It’s a very nice, Egyptian style piece, I imagine, an Egyptian princess would wear; gold in color. I look at her and say, “Please. Allow me to buy it for you, to commemorate this wonderful day having spent it with you.” Excitedly she responds, “Really! You’d do that for me?” “Yes. Please. Allow me too.” I take the piece, along with another which I’d picked out for one of my sisters, and return to her, “Here, from me to you.” Reaching to embrace her as she leans toward me, I say, “Thank you for making this such an amazing day.” She smiles radiantly and with such pleasure. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much!” I continue, “The truth is, every time you doll up and are getting ready to go out, as you put on this piece, you’re going to remember me. The thought of me is going to pass through your mind, and if you don’t say it out loud, you’re going to whisper it in your heart: Godwin.” The smile that she so often responded with was becoming etched upon my heart. “Again, thank you for such a beautiful day, it’s been fun.”

We left the mall and began our walk back to the dorms. We walked along the river, first, because it’s a lovely walk, and second, it’s a shorter route. Again, our cameras snapped this shot and that shot; I was not going to miss the picturesque moments of such lovely company while walking along side of a beautiful river; she, to whom it has been said, has the spirit of water. When she first told me, I thought, “How beautiful; as water is the symbol of life.”

As we prepared to bed for the night, each of us to our own rooms, I caught her outside her door. “Thanks again for such a wonderful day.” She responded, “Yeah, thank you. It was fun.” I continued, “You know, you’re an answer to a prayer. I prayed that at some point in time I’d have the company of a lovely young lady; someone to share the more beautiful parts of Vilnius with. Then you came along.” Reflecting further on the day, and not allowing her to pay for anything, except the chocolates, I said, “Thank you for letting me spoil you. It’s a very special feeling. I haven’t had any one to spoil for a very long time.” From here we exchanged our “good nights,” and were off to bed.

My offense: The very next morning as I was sitting having my coffee and treat, she came down the stairs. I was engaged in a conversation with some others. I saw her in the corner of my eye: she was beautiful, smiling, and radiant. She looked at me and I just looked away. I didn’t say a word. I entered the coffee shop to get more coffee, she was there, two persons in front of me. I wanted then to acknowledge her, but just couldn’t. She left.

The day passed quickly and I hadn’t seen her again until late evening, and it was only for a few moments. Still, no words were spoken. For sure, it was too late to say “Good morning!” I felt so bad for not acknowledging her, as she, like a princess, walked down the steps of the coffee shop. I think about it, and I reason. It is because of the slight tinge of rejection I felt in my heart, as we were engaged in conversation the day before, and she said: but I have a boyfriend, and he’s nice.

“I’m so sorry for not acknowledging you. Please forgive me.”

I wish I weren’t so selfish in love and friendship; or maybe, it was: just my imagination- running away with me.

What Has Been: Vilnius

2009-08-02T08:24:00.010-07:00

It’s been twenty two days since I arrived in Vilnius. It’s hard to believe that I’m on the final four days of my trip. I leave Friday, August 7^th, at 6:25 am.

This is my fifth trip to Europe in the past nine years. I was married to a very lovely Hungarian lady (Vilma) which accounted for the first four trips, as we would journey to Europe to be with her family. The first trip was for three months (December 13^th, 2000 – March 13^th, 2001). We arrived two weeks before Christmas, so, as in Canada, we were heading into a very special part of the year. During the three months we were all over Hungary; its major cities, towns, and villages; we spent three weeks in Budapest. In February, went on a four day excursion to Venice for the Venice Carnival. This was my first world trip and what an amazing experience it was. Three weeks into the trip, however, I was ready to pack my bags and go home.

I sat on the edge of the bed listening to some CDs that I had brought with me from Canada. Listening to them on the little portable CD player that too, was a part of my luggage, because I wanted to make my three month stay in Hungary as “home friendly” as possible. I sat there and eventually got trapped in a song by Slade, called “The Party’s Over,” as the lyrics, “I need a miracle,” played over and over again. The song itself is a bit mellow-dramatic, and speaks of desire, loss, and yearning. It is slow and very beautiful, and can be categorized a love song.

After the fourth or fifth time, Vilma turns to me and says, “Are you alright?” I say yes, and she continues doing what she is doing. A few plays later she looks at me again and says, “You’re not alright. Something is bothering you. What is it?” I begin to speak as tears begin to fill my eyes. “You know that I’ve grown to love you, and that I’m very glad to be here with you and your family. You guys have been wonderful, loving, and very supportive.” By the expression on her face I know she’s not sure where this is going. I continue. “Since I’ve been here I haven’t been able to talk with any one. No one here speaks English, except you and your brother, and for this I am very thankful. I want so much to talk with your mom and dad, and I can’t even do that. I thought, that by touring the few smaller cities and villages that we have so far, that we’d at least find some English speaking people. No. There hasn’t been any. I look at the people as they go walking by, they turn and look away. I only want to say hi.” Vilma looks at me empathetically, and re-assures me that we will find some English speaking people, and that everything will be alright. “Another thing,” I say with extreme sadness and my voice beginning to break, “there is none of my kind here. There are no Indians. Not one. I look, but I can’t find any.” In a feeble, heart broken attempt to interject humor at this point, I ask, “What have you guys done with all the Indians?” By now my voice is heightening, cracking, as I feel the total loss and separation from my people; my beautiful Indian people; my friends, my family; seven thousand miles away from home. I begin to cry- even, uncontrollably. I sat there, and I wept. Vilma could do no more than hold me, and tell me, everything was going to be alright.

After many moments of agonizing loss, I turned to her and said, “I want to go home. I want to go back to Canada. I can’t take this any more. Three weeks is enough. I want to leave tomorrow.” Vilma was shocked by my request; we were to be in Hungary for three months. At first she was silent, and then said, “Please,” almost begging, and now too, in tears, “just give it one more day- please, just one more day.” Feeling her slight opposition I said strongly, “Why? What’s the use? How are things going to change over night? Is everyone just going to suddenly start speaking English and all the Indians appear?” She was speechless and searching for words to say. “You’ve been wanting to go to Budapest- if I can convince my brother to take us to Budapest tomorrow, will you consider staying? I promise you, things will change. Budapest is a huge city, and for sure ,there will be English speaking people there. People come from all over the world to live in Budapest. You’ll find people. And, it’s a very beautiful city with so much more to do.” Questioning her sincerity, I look to her and say, “Well, you’ve been saying for the past week or so, that we’re going to Budapest. It hasn’t happened yet, what makes you think it’s going to happen now.” I continued, “If it doesn’t happen, I’m not even going to hesitate. I’m going to pack my bags and find my own way to the airport, and, I’m going back to Canada.” Vilma was relieved, for now, she’d found some reprieve.

There was silence, anticipation, as we were on route to Budapest. Vilma looked at me throwing one of her sweet, innocent, and lovely smiles. Perking up she said, “You’re going to find South American Indians here too. Many of them come from places like Guatemala, and make a living playing their traditional music, selling CDs, and other items from their culture.” I look at her and smile.

The traffic lanes begin to change- they begin to widen into multiple lanes. There are more street and directional signs- all indicating that we are getting closer, and closer, to the city. I can feel the excitement begin to re-generate inside me. Finally, a breath of fresh air; there it is, in all its splendor: Budapest.

My heart leapt just as it did, three weeks earlier, when we touched down at the Budapest Airport.

Vilma’s cousin comes into the room as we’re settling in, “Godwin, we’re planning on going to this Ryke session tomorrow. We were wondering if you’d like to come with us.” I’m laying there, so relieved to be in the city, and thinking on all the fun and exciting things that we’re going to be doing, and the many English speaking people we’re going to meet. “Ryke? What’s that exactly?” “Well. It’s like going to church but without the church. People come together and sit in a circle and attempt to make conscious contact with God. Like I said, it’s like church, but without the church, and all its rules and regulations. We just sit, talk, and meditate. For many people, it’s very healing.” “It sounds alright. I guess I can come.”

Being brought up as a very devout Anglican, and exploring Pentecostalism later, I wasn’t too sure if I was doing the right thing. I went any way.

There were about fifteen people in the circle, two of which spoke English: Vilma, and her cousin. The leader spoke eloquently and with much gentleness; each in turn, spoke, in Hungarian. As I sat not being able to understand, I began to feel the same imprisonment of the previous three weeks. I sat there and began to stew, feeling again the loss, separation, anxiety, pain, and brokenness. Then, I was asked to speak- with the instruction that Vilma would interpret. I sat there, with every intention of sharing- and the complete focus on me. I looked up into the faces of the people around me, tears had already welled in my eyes, they were waiting. I was different, I wasn’t from their country. I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I looked at Vilma and began to cry, and, almost shouting, I said, “I can’t do this. Why did I listen to you? Why the hell did I come to your country?” I jumped up and ran out of the room.

Vilma followed and caught me, as I stood outside the building near a wire fence- crying, cursing, and shouting. She didn’t say a word, as I kicked and punched the fence; ranting and raving. “Why? What the hell am I doing here? How is this supposed to make things better?” Her cousin approached us, slowly, delicately. “Please Godwin. Come back in. The people want you to come back in.” I said, “After this incredible act of cowardness and humiliation, you want me to come back in? Are you crazy?” She pleaded some more, “Please. Please come back in.” I looked at Vilma and sensed her sadness, and her helplessness, “Ok, let’s go. One more time; let’s go back in.”

Vilma placed her hand upon my thigh, as I began to speak- speaking through deep moans, and sobs, with a breaking voice, “I can’t communicate with any one, every one always looks away. And there are no Indian people. I miss my people so much; my family- so far away...” As I continued, I cried and cried. I’d never felt so isolated and so alone, ever, in all of my life. Vilma cried with me- as did a few others in the room, as they began to share my pain. The leader came toward me, took me gently by the hand, and led me to the center of the circle. He just held me. No words were spoken; he just held me. I could speak no more in English, as the heavenly language just began to permeate through me- the gift of “speaking in tongues.” I knew now, the anguish of my soul was being translated into a language that only God can understand, and, that something was going to happen; something good. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to, and I didn’t. It was too beautiful. I left feeling rejuvenated, and alive. I left feeling that everything was going to be alright, and knew that things were going to change.

The next morning, Vilma, her cousin, and I, were getting ready to go to the West End Center, one of Budapest’s larger malls. I just missed the city and wanted to get a feel of city life again. As we were walking through the mall I began to hear softly, almost a whisper “Isn’t that guy an Indian? He looks like an Indian.” I ignore it at first, and continue walking. It continues, “Go and ask him. Find out where he’s from.” My curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn. Immediately, as if I’ve discovered riches far greater than gold- my eyes light up, my smile spans the length of the mall hall, I look at the two sitting on the bench and say to the guy, softly, “Indian?” He looks at me, smiling, ear to ear, “Yeah. Indian.”

Immediately I jump, dance, and shout, throwing my arms in the air: “Woo-hoo! Indian! Indian! Indian! Oh my God- an Indian!” He looks at me wondering what the heck’s going on, yet pleasantly pleased. I look at him and exclaim, “I can’t believe I found you. You can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it has been for me here in a country where there is virtually no English, and for sure, no Indians.” He smiled, and said lightly, “I’ve only been here for a week, and know already what you mean. I was beginning to feel the same way.” My next question was: “Where are you from?” He smiled as he said very proudly, “Regina. Saskatchewan- Canada.” Oh my God, I was so elated; someone of my own kind, and from the same country. “I’m from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. I’m originally from a little reserve in northwestern BC, but I’ve lived in Vancouver for the past many years. Man, it is so nice to meet you.”

From that moment on, over the following two weeks, we became friends and connected with each other as often as we could; he, with his Hungarian girlfriend, and I, with mine.

Not only did I meet a genuine, full blooded Indian from Canada, but I also had the privilege of attending a four day “Indian camp,” held by a group of Hungarians, who regularly traveled to the United States to do cultural exchange and interaction with the Lakota Nation. They interchanged, adopted, and shared many aspects of their traditional cultures, and the Hungarians brought many practices back from the United States; many, of which, I was familiar with. We did meet the South American Indians, and they too, over the three months became very good friends of ours. As they traveled from city to city, as if by divine providence, we just kept on meeting.

As for the English speaking people, they were everywhere, even the Hungarian people themselves. Now, a few years later, through the establishment of dual language schools in Hungary, English is more widely spoken, especially in the smaller towns, cities, and villages.

How does this all translate to Vilnius?

I came to Vilnius, my first world trip entirely on my own- to meet with approximately fifty other participants for a Summer Literary Seminar. Hungary, which I now consider my training grounds for foreign travel, prepared me for the many things I may encounter during trips to other parts of the world. Here, the experience has been beautiful.

I’ve felt right at home in this city: Vilnius. No matter which direction I’ve taken, I’ve been unable to get lost; it’s an innate feeling, really- as if I were born here: I know each step I am to take, and end up exactly where I want to be. It’s a miracle, too- I just have not been able to get lost (not that I’ve been trying). The people here are very, very hospitable, and friendly. I chuckled as I was in the city, the newer part of Vilnius, if I needed a direction or clarity, I’d ask someone, usually a woman. I did ask men for direction and help a few times, but ninety-nine percent of the time I gravitated toward the woman. Why? Because many of them are so undeniably, and inextricably, beautiful...and, it’s an opportunity to speak with a princess; if one did not speak English, they quickly ran and grabbed one of their friends that did- then, all standing in a semi-circle around me, the one speaks, while the others listen, smiling, beautifully. It’s an enriching, and enlightening feeling, sparking an even greater confidence and magnetism toward this country.

The food, as someone said, and I share the same opinion, “It’s to die for, and the coffee. Traditional Lithuanian food is so good!”

I was asked in an interview: “How has being in Vilnius affected your writing?

I answered:

“It’s an incredible place of inspiration: the architecture, history, culture, and the people. It’s all around you. You become saturated in a different life style, a different way of living. What you eat, the way you interact with people, and the way that you renew your view of seeing things- these all in some way become reflective in your writing. There is so much to write about.”

I smile, as I think, but don’t say, “And the woman, oh the lovely, lovely woman; such beauty, such elegance.”

As I sit, I remember the one that I’d seen- her hair, her eyes, and her shape; her face- truly the countenance of an angel; the shape of her mouth, her lips, and perfectly shaped nose- glowing, just as radiantly. I had to stop, stare, in awe; I couldn’t believe such beauty walks this earth...and here, in Vilnius, a few thousand miles away from my home, to which in a few days I shall return.

The question has been asked of me a few times- like others before me: writers, poets, authors, photographers: “Would you consider moving to Vilnius?”

My response, “She’d have to be pretty darn beautiful, internally and externally, for me to up-root my life in Canada and give up all that I know- to live a life here in Vilnius.”

“Don’t get me wrong- I do love your city.”

I Sit At This Window

2009-07-25T10:37:00.007-07:00

Greetings from Vilnius:

I’m writing today from my dorm room at Vilnius University. As I look out my window, which I am sitting immediately in front of, the scene is truly European. The house built of brick with lumber inlaid across and down giving each wall a pattern of squares. The building looking like something from a farm and possibly used to store harvest from the field- the bricks a weather worn yellow and the lumber that totally accentuates the European tradition of building, brown in color. Slightly further up are the concrete built houses, off yellowish in color with the traditional orange tiled European roofs with their large concrete chimneys and many windows that have their own little roofs extending from the main roof. All this nestled perfectly amongst lush, green trees that grow thickly in the area sitting nicely underneath the almost clear blue sky that holds strands and puffs of grayish, white clouds. My spirit extends far beyond the beauty that sits before me, it flows through Vilnius. In my brief stay here so far, what an amazing experience it has been.

For an Indian (First Nations- the politically correct term in Canada; a term which in my travels I don’t use too often because people abroad are not familiar with this term and then begins the fifteen minute long explanation, which often is followed by the question: Why? Are you ashamed of being Indian?) who comes from a little reserve- Kincolith, in the far reaches of Northwestern, British Columbia, Canada, thousands of miles away; the experience is almost surreal.

I never imagined in my wildest dreams that one day I would be walking the streets of the cities of Europe. I don’t recall ever hearing of Europe much less any other places, countries that existed. As a child, my world did not extend beyond the boundaries of home except to take the ten to twelve hour boat ride or half hour flight to the nearest town of Prince Rupert and back.

Here I sit, having weathered many of life’s greatest atrocities, storms, and challenges: mom’s death when I was six; the extreme, physical beating at the hands of my father (enough to kill any six year old child) immediately after her death- (my father and I had a time of reconciliation six months before he died); the residential school (Institutions built to house Indian children whom were in many cases literally kidnapped, tricked, lied to, and forced into these institutions where the mandate was to “de-Indianize” the child). De-Indianization occurred through great measures of punishment, humiliation, and shame- in a government sanctioned mandate to do away with the Indian nations all together (The governments, both provincial and federal, have since taken steps which have begun the restitution and reconciliatory process); dad’s death when I was ten; and every brokenness, heart-ache and pain that was to follow.

I sit at this window: healed, whole, alive, and well. I sit at this window: a writer, a poet. I sit at this window: thankful for “everything” that has been my life. I sit at this window: with a heart full of gratitude- for out of the ashes and the dust, have come, the beauty of prose and the beauty of poetry. Out of it has come Vilnius- a truly magical place; a land filled with kindness, hospitality, friendship, great food, and a land of absolutely beautiful woman. I sit at this window: I see opportunity.

One Day In Vilnius (Lithuania)

2009-07-25T10:28:00.013-07:00

One Day in Vilnius (Lithuania)

I can’t believe sometimes, the miracles that happen to me

the places that I go, and the things that I see.

Here I sit again, in a strange and foreign land

yet not strange and foreign, for there’s many a helping hand.

The curiosity of the people, as upon me they stare

I’m different; dark skinned, with very long, black hair.

One she described me, as a very beautiful face

saying there’s a peace within- not common to every race.

Many people they smile, as we try to communicate

even share in light laughter- opportunity, a friend to make.

As hunger began gradually, to move me along

“Eat traditional Lithuanian food,” she said, almost in song.

I’m yearning for the company, and I know it will come

of a lovely fair maiden, our spirits be one.

To share with me her country, and all there is to see

of all the wonderful sights- its culture and history.

I can’t believe sometimes, the miracles that happen to me

past races, and color, such beauty I see.

Here I sit again, in a strange and foreign land

yet not strange and foreign, others are helping me stand.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Vilnius, Lithuania.

Journey To Vilnius

2009-07-25T10:22:00.005-07:00

Frankfurt: Wednesday, July 15, 2009 10:15 AM Local Time.

I left Vancouver BC, Canada, Tuesday at 11:10 am. It was a nine and a half hour flight to Frankfurt, Germany. The flight however, did not seem that long at all. First, due to the quite excellent company of a lovely young lady, and, the three movies and other programming that was a part of the in-flight entertainment.

My new friend was very, very nice. We talked, shared a few light laughs, smiled, and enjoyed “Marley and Me” as well as “He’s Just Not that Into You.” The only times of silence were when she was sleeping or the few times that I managed to nod off; from here we deplaned together and found our way through customs and to the luggage claim area. My company has parted here in Frankfurt, to connect first, with her family, and then to meet her boyfriend whom she has not seen since January.

Before leaving Vancouver I had attended two weeks revival meetings with a visiting prophetess. She was dynamic, inspirational, and completely full of the power and glory of God on fire. Her meetings were extremely, extremely powerful. Part of her final word of prayer for me as I left my final meeting with her and her ministry team, was that while in Europe, everything would be by divine appointment, and that God would make provision and I would not lack, that he would grant me great favor in the eyes of man. She said also that I was to get ready, for this is the beginning of great, great things to come for me. I left very blessed and full of the confidence of the Lord. While I sit here in the airport at Frankfurt (I have an eleven hour lay-over), I feel his total and complete presence. God has already granted me great favor through the assistance of others around me as I navigate my way around this very, very huge airport in which you have to take a bus or sky ride to connect terminal to terminal. Checking in and going through security also has gone smoothly and with-out hindrance. While sitting in a coffee shop earlier, in which you had to pay an additional 50% on top of your food purchase to sit in the shop’s seating area- I was granted favor by the lady serving me who told me just to have a seat right next to the serving counter and she didn’t charge me the additional 50%. I asked for another coffee, a small one. She said in this particular area, to continue sitting here, I’m supposed to order a large. She gave it to me anyway- what should have been a small coffee, disguised in a large cup (which, she filled regardless).

So, even in the smallest of details, the Lord has already granted me favor. I can only begin to imagine what great things are in store for me in Vilnius.

If you are following my blog, you’ll be familiar with the occurrence of the number “222” in my life; its significance and really, miraculous manifestations. I’m due to arrive at Vilnius at 22: 20. Now, if that isn’t a variation of the number “222,” I don’t know what is.

Really, I am expecting great, great things to materialize in Vilnius as the Lord takes me on one of the greatest adventures of my life. I’ll write more as the trip continues. Take care and God Bless.

Call Upon Me And I Will Answer Thee, And Show Thee Great And Mighty Things Which Thou Knowest Not

2009-07-08T09:19:00.033-07:00

Greetings!

I just came out of a three day fast: seventy-two hours with absolutely no food, no drink other than water, prayer, times of reading the word (bible!), and fellowship. Although at one point it was a tremendous challenge to remain in the fast, the night of the second day, through prayer the strength and grace of God brought me through to the end.

I committed to this fast because of an up-coming trip I am making to Europe. On July 14th I am leaving for Vilnius, Lithuania, to attend a rather prestigious literary seminar. There, I will be working with some world renown, very accredited, and accomplished award winning authors, writers, and poets. The seminar runs for a two week period- from July 19th to August 4th. I have tremendous aspirations and dreams as a writer and poet; some, one might say, that are totally inconceivable and far fetched, and others, seemingly possible. As I've shared the magnitude of my dreams with certain individuals, it is apparent that some are totally convinced that I can and will do it, and others, think just that, that I'm just a dreamer. The reason I'm going to Europe is that back in February, I entered a poetry contest. The contest was facilitated by Concordia University, English Department, out of Montreal. This was an open contest and entries were sent in from various parts of the world. Out of over nine hundred submissions, I came in as a semi-finalist. A letter sent to me later indicated that the judges were very impressed with the quality of my writing and poetry, and I was offered a fellowship of a thirty-percent tuition waiver in an invitation to attend this seminar. Looking at my present financial situation and debt incurred in my separation, the cost of this trip, even with the tuition waiver was going to be $4, 368.95. This does not include lodging or food, and expenses toward scheduled tours, functions, and entertainment. This trip seemed like a total impossibility. By the support of my home community in an agreement that I've made with them, many things came together and in less than one week, I'm on my way to Europe. They have very strict guidelines, conditions, and criteria, to which they have to abide- and for them to assist me in the way that they have, really, is a miracle. While in the fast, I prayed that God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven, while I am in Vilnius. That everyone that I'm supposed to meet, I will meet, and everything that I am to be a part of and everything that is to be a part of me, will happen. I prayed for prosperity, for absolute success, diligence, commitment, desire, not only for Vilnius, but for my career as a writer, author, and poet.

I think of Joseph in the bible, he, as a child, had tremendous dreams; things in his life that indicated that he was destined for great, great things. His own family ridiculed him, laughed at him, mocked him and called him a dreamer. The book of Genesis says of Joseph:

Genesis 37:3-11: Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colors. And when his brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him. And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it to his brethren: and they hated him yet the more. And he said unto them, hear, I pray you, this dream which I have dreamed: For, behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and, lo, my sheaf arose, and also stood upright: and, behold, your sheaves stood round about, and made obeisance (gesture of respect and deep reverence) to my sheaf. And his brethren said unto him, shalt thou indeed reign over us? Or shalt thou indeed have dominion over us? And they hated him yet the more for his dreams, and for his words. And he dreamed yet another dream, and told it to his brethren, and said, behold, I have dreamed a dream more; and, behold, the sun and the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to me. And he told it to his father, and to his brethren: and his father rebuked him, and said unto him, what is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I and thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth? And his brethren envied him; but his father observed the saying.

At this point, Joseph's brothers took their father's flock to a place called Shechem, and then further to a place called Dothan, that they might be fed. Joseph's father called him and instructed him to go to his brothers to see if all was well with them and the flock. Joseph was to report back to his father.

The story continues (Vs. 18 -34):

And when they saw him afar off, even before he came near unto them, they conspired against him to slay him. And they said one to another, behold, this dreamer cometh. Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, some evil beast hath devoured him: and we shall see what will become of his dreams. And Reuben heard it, and he delivered him out of their hands; and said, let us not kill him. And Reuben said unto them, shed no blood, but cast him into this pit that is in the wilderness, and lay no hand upon him; that he might rid him out of their hands, to deliver him to his father again. And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they stripped Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colors that was on him; and they took him, and cast him into a pit: and the pit was empty, there was no water in it. And they sat down to eat bread: and they lifted up their eyes and looked, and, behold, a company of Ishmeelites came from Gilead with their camels bearing spicery and balm and myrrh, going to carry it down to Egypt. And Judah said unto his brethren, what profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood? Come, and let us sell him to the Ishmeelites, and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brethren were content. Then there passed by Mideanites merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmeelites for twenty pieces of silver: and they brought Joseph into Egypt. And Reuben returned unto the pit; and, behold, Joseph was not in the pit; and he rent (tore) his clothes. And he returned unto his brethren, and said, the child is not: and I, whither shall I go? And they took Joseph's coat, and killed a kid of the goats and dipped the coat in the blood; and they sent the coat of many colors, and they brought it to their father; and said, this have we found: know now whether it be thy son's coat or no. And he knew it, and said, it is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces. And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth ( a garment made from coarse fabric and worn as a sign of mourning) upon his loins and mourned for his son many days.

Through trials, testing, abandonment, accusation, and imprisonment; Joseph's dreams probably at a certain point in time, seemed just that: dreams.

I often reflect on the things the Lord has planted in my heart, in my spirit. I think of the prophet Elijah praying down fire from heaven. What a sight that must have been. I imagine Moses and the people of Israel standing before the Red Sea and all the enemy fast approaching from behind with full intent to slay them, ultimately destroy them, to kill every last one of them. By a word of declaration in his God and with his staff raised, Moses speaks. I see the waters of the Red Sea parting to form great walls as the people stared is absolute awe and disbelief, and cross on dry land. I see Peter as he merely walked the streets and his shadow fell on the sick laid along the way, and instantly they were healed. Truly miraculous. Truly magnificent. Truly, awe inspiring. An omnipotent, wonderful, powerful, powerful God. The beauty of it all, he's the same God then as he is now.

I write right now as I am most in need of reminding of this great and powerful God that I serve. You see, on the morning of the sixth day from now, I leave for Europe. I have but a dollar to my name in the top drawer of my dresser, and thirty dollars left in the over-draft of my bank account. My total debt amounts to $39,060.91: this is my bank loan as well as credit cards combined. When my wife and I separated, we agreed that I would assume full responsibility for our debt on the premise that she would require no further monies from me. Although I've been late with many, many payments, everything to date that needs to be paid has been paid. This is even miraculous in itself given that, out of the kindness of my heart, and yet love toward my ex-wife, I continue to help her financially. As I re-read this specific paragraph and feel the immensity of my obligation and extreme, dire need, for more finances toward my trip, I read out loud as my voice trembles and shakes and tears roll heavily down my face. God does not have to meet with me, does not have to do anything further, does not have to provide further finances: He has done so much already...but you see, the bottom line: I can't stop loving him; I can't stop praising him; I can't stop worshiping him...I can't help but believe.

As Paul said (Romans 8: 35-39): Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, for thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This is truly how I feel. Through the deaths of my best friends, Fred and Linda, my brother and sister; through the agonizing pain and uncertainty of my initial separation; through the death of our pet and truly our baby, Gepi: nothing has separated me from the love of God. I feel him today more than I've ever felt him before. I love him more than I've ever loved him before. He is my all, my everything. I exist and breath, only because of him. He is my God: he is my Jesus.
What is my deliverance you may ask? Jesus, first, is my deliverance. But he's not just going to show up at my front door and hand me a cheque for $39,060.91 and give me extra cash for my trip to Europe (although he is not exempt from performing in this manner). I believe now he has truly blessed the work of my hands. I have two manuscripts seeking publication and I believe with all of my heart and everything inside of me- these will be published. I have absolutely not one shred of doubt. This is only the first phase of my dream, it gets bigger; much bigger.

How does my dream end...here's how Joseph's dream ended- after he interpreted Pharaoh's dream- Pharaoh: the King of Egypt (Genesis 41: 37-44):

And the thing was good in the eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of all his servants. And Pharaoh said unto his servants, can we find such a one as this is, a man in whom the Spirit of God is? And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, forasmuch as God has shewed thee all this, there is none so discreet and wise as thou art: Thou shalt be over my house, and according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the throne will I be greater than thou. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, see, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph's hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck; And he made him to ride in the second chariot which he had; and they cried before him, bow the knee: and he made him ruler over all the land of Egypt. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I am Pharaoh, and without thee shall no man lift up his hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.

The Pharaoh's dream came to pass. Just as Joseph had interpreted, famine hit the land and was going to last seven years. Everyone in the surrounding area came to Egypt to buy what food that they could. They had to come to Joseph- including his brothers.

Genesis 42:6-9 says- And Joseph was the governor over the land, and he it was that sold to all the people of the land: and Joseph's brethren came, and bowed down themselves before him with their faces to the earth. And Joseph saw his brethren, and he knew them, but made himself strange unto them, and spake roughly unto them; and he said unto them, Whence come ye? And they said, from the land of Canaan to buy food. And Joseph knew his brethren, but they knew him not. And Joseph remembered the dreams which he dreamed of them...

There is much more to the story. In the end, there is joy, happiness, tears, love, hugs, and forgiveness. In the end, there is life.

Where are my dreams taking me? Exactly where God said that I am to go: not a step or a word further, and not a step or a word short: Exactly, where I am to be.

Here is an excerpt from one of the poems that has me on my journey to Europe: And thank you, it is my absolute privilege to share a part of my day with you. Cheers!

Inside of Me

I awoke from a dream strange in the day
on my couch in puzzlement quietly I lay.
Fists clenched and arms crossed upon my chest
though disturbed in my sleep a beautiful rest...

...A lowly defeated figure now standing outside a closing door
death takes too many loved one our pleas it does ignore.
There’s an energizing presence becoming evident in this night
as slowly I lift my head to such a beautiful sight.

Photos:

1) Myself by the river at the back of my village. Look closely, do you see the outline of a figure that stands to my left. It's perfectly symmetrical, from top to bottom.

2) Eagle on a cross: photo compliments of friend. Taken in Vancouver.

3) Scenic shot: just out side of my village.

Such A Glorious Day!

2009-03-18T14:36:00.010-07:00

It's spring break. So far, other than going out to go running I've pretty much been home bound. I had planned coming into the break that I was just going to stay home and relax, do more writing and exercise. Including the weekend this is day five of the break.

I work out sporadically through the winter months. Since re-committing to my work-out schedule which is what I do in the spring and summer months, I'm on the verge of completing my second six day cycle. I work out Saturday to Thursday, alternating weight work with running. I love to run, since losing fifty-two pounds in my grade eleven year, running has always been a passion of mine. I love the challenge of feeling I've come to my complete end and that I have nothing more to give and I push myself to reach yet another marker. I live in the knowledge that for me to be able to exercise, really, is a gift; there are many out there who do not have this same ability. I've yet to beat my longest run set a couple of years ago of thirteen miles, non-stop. I will do this, one mile at a time. As per usual each spring I start easy. I fast walk one mile, run two, then cool down with an additional mile. I know internally when it is time to increase the distance and further my run just as it will be for my weights. I have to be careful not to let my emotions dictate my ability to work out as "emotional ability" does not always equal "physical ability." Having emotion is good, but when driven beyond your physical ability, this can be dangerous. I love the feeling of working out- it truly does strengthen the heart, mind, spirit, soul, and body.

I've also given as off these past couple of months more attention to my writing projects. This is so rewarding. I often think on where all these things are going- then, I think: "You take one step and he'll take two."

My reason for reflecting on this today is simple: "Hope Lives!"

As written in previous entries to my blog there is the occurrence of the number "222". How, in some very critical moments in my life this number has factored in and has brought some very re-assuring messages. Well, feeling some what homebound this spring break and lack of finances having a lot to do with it, this morning I had an immense feeling that every thing is going to be alright.

My anti-virus software activated its scheduled scan. A scan of my whole computer takes a little over five hours. Sitting on my couch I decided to check its status. The exact time that it was at, in regard to scanning so far, was 2hrs and 22 minutes...222. Immediately I looked at the time on my computer, it was 2:22 pm. There are no clocks in my living room.

I received the message two fold today. How can I not believe great things are in store for me regardless of where I am at personally or otherwise.

I choose to believe and I'm just going to keep on trusting.

Sincerely,

Godwin B.

Photo: Me on the Sea Wall in my home village
Christmas 2008

The Few Faces of Godwin

2009-03-01T11:58:00.016-08:00

One learns to live through transition, challenge, and change.

In the words of George Dawson: "Life is so good. I do believe it's getting better."

Cheers!

Godwin.

The Transformation: Sobriety- Ten Years Later: January 30th, 2009.

2009-01-30T21:13:00.027-08:00

I wept joyfully as I drove to work today. Today is my sobriety birthday. "Ten years clean and sober- by the Grace of God." Such joy, such fulfillment, such life! Truly, there is no life like it.

The first picture was taken as I was entering my grade eight year (the little guy standing with me is my nephew and great friend, Chris). The second, a complete transformation: the end of my grade eleven year. I began a work out program in grade eleven so that I could get my PE credits for my high school graduation. My weight, as obvious in the first picture, was a real problem. By the end of the year I had lost fifty-two pounds...and to think, this all began with a twenty dollar bet with my grade eleven PE teacher.

This is how I feel about my sobriety: transformed-I'm certainly not the man I was ten years ago. I have experienced significant growth- mentally, emotionally, physically, and above all, spiritually. I have a relationship with the Father (God!) today that can fully be described as "Best Friends Forever!" I've come to know him in ways that I never knew he existed, and have experienced his grace and mercy in ways that continue to blow my mind. He truly is a God beyond the four walls of a church, and not just one who sits on a throne in the heavens, watching my every move, just waiting to "throw darts of lightning" at me the minute I mess up.

He walks with me, he talks with me. I hear him in the wind and the rustling leaves. He's the hand that causes the trees to sway and the grass to bow. He makes the waters flow so crisp and so clean. He causes every star in the sky to shine most beautifully and just when you sneak a peek at them he causes them to "twinkle" just for you. As I'm walking and I say good-morning to the singing birds or to the squirrel that runs across the street or up a tree...it is God. He is every where, in every thing; and the most beautiful thing of all, every time the sun shines you can feel his beautiful warmth upon your face: caressing you, loving you. He is so wonderful: so beautiful. When I'm at the beach at the waters edge with grains of sand slipping through my fingers...it is God. He's the sound of the waves as they crash lightly and softly against the shore. When I think about the beauty and awesomeness of God, I am moved emotionally: I cry. He's so tender, full of grace, and rich in mercy. In the early months of my sobriety, when the pain was too great, and uncertainty and chaos was the torture of my soul, he didn't turn away, but allowed me to be me, and let me go through that passage I needed to go through to get well.

I cussed, I cursed, I swore. I yelled, I shouted, I screamed. I punched, I kicked, and I threw. I blamed. You know what he did? He loved me. He loved me again and again, and again. As much as I fought it and didn't want it, he loved me anyway. A tortured soul full of bitterness, hatred and rage doesn't want to have anything to do with love. If once there was love and trust that was shattered with death, destruction, and broken promises- love is the furthest thing from one's mind. I could feel his hands wrapping around me in these my moments of torture. I could feel his embrace when I tried to fight it. I could feel his love when I didn't want it. He sat with me, after I'd just got through throwing the biggest fit of rage, and calling him every foul name that I could think of, cursing him, hating him...and he whispered: "Godwin. I Love You."

Oh that the world would come to know such a loving God; such a kind, caring, generous, and compassionate God.

That the broken hearted could know that there is hope. Let this hope begin with knowing that God is every where, in every thing. He'll meet you where ever you are. In that deep and darkened room with that needle in your arm. In that back alley as you sit in your unwashed and filthy clothing that you have worn for the past few months drinking from that bottle of whiskey that you pan handled for. Your family has given up on you, your friends have given up on you. No one wants to have any thing to do with you any more. You're a hopeless case. Guess what? There is love...there is so much love. It's in the winnowing wings of angels that sit at your side watching over you. You wonder why that empty bottle suddenly fell off the table as you're sitting there ready to inject your arm- you are not alone. You wonder why when there was no breeze that that empty, crushed, pop can suddenly came your way. You're not alone.

There is the heavenlies; the invisible. There is the spiritual. There is God. There is hope.

Where do we go from here. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives. There are only great things in store for people like us, because it is people like us that have really learned compassion, love, grace, mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. It is people like us who truly know what it is to walk a mile in another man's shoes. It is people like us who truly bear the gift, the gift of life.

With this birthday I've been given a brand new slate. I started using, drinking and drugging, when I was thirteen. I used for twenty-three years. Today, I am ten years clean and sober. If you add the numbers you will see that there's a perfect balance now in terms of the number of years that I used and the number of years that I've been clean. Taking into account the years from birth, to the time that I first started using at the age of thirteen, combined with my ten years sobriety...this adds up to twenty-three. A totally clean slate, a brand new beginning: twenty-three years of using and twenty-three years clean- a perfect balance.

It's amazing how from death, one learns to live.

In his love and mine,

Godwin H. Barton

Gepi: He Was Truly, Our Baby

2008-11-23T11:31:00.003-08:00

To My Readership: This story initially had been presented in its entirety: however, as it has been echoing very, very strongly in my heart and spirit, I feel I have to remove it. What you see here are excerpts. The direction I am receiving is to send the original story to publishers in the hopes of being published. For those of you who were able to read the story in its completeness, thank you for your loyalty and very positive, and empathetic feedback. The message impedes upon me tremendously, I must send this story to be published. Again, thank you.

Mother's Day, 2002, ushered in a beautiful litter of kittens. "Oh my, look at that one!" Vilma said excitedly as the tiny kitten scurried away from the others. "Grab him and put him back with the rest." For a few seconds he stayed put and then ran off again to forge and explore his brand new world. "Look, he just won't stay still. He's so active." We laughed delightfully, as the black, little, ball of fur stumbled and crawled over his siblings to get away. His small, white paws clawing as fast as they could, accompanied by his very sweet, new born, baby meows. "He has black lips and a pink nose," I observed, cheerfully. Smiling, as the kitten now made his way into the living room, Vilma said, "That's the one I want. I want that one!" Light-heartedly I said, "But he's so hyper. Look! Now he's trying to climb up the side of the couch!" This was one decision that was not going to change. On June 27th, 2002, the baby kitten was on his way to his new home...

...Gepi grew very quickly. Our freshly bought Christmas tree stood in the middle of the living room floor, drying. I walked in from the bedroom as Vilma was in the kitchen. Laughing, I exclaimed, "Look at Gepi!" There he was, half way up the tree, totally sprawled out- two paws stretching to the north and two to the south: flatly. We laughed, as it was such a funny sight. Helplessly Gepi meowed as he looked desperately toward us. I couldn't help but tease him, "What's up eh! Need a hand? Just hanging around are ya!" We treasured the moment some more before we took him down. Excitedly, he ran just as if nothing had happened. "How are we going to keep Gepi from the tree once its decorated?" I asked Vilma. She replied, "We'll figure it out. He's a smart cat and will learn quickly not to touch the tree."

.....One night, we heard cries of such desperation coming from the back door; meows so loud, and filled with hints of agony. Vilma and I looked desperately toward each other and shouted, "Gepi!" We ran to the back door and opened it. Our hearts broke. Gepi came stumbling in- beaten, battered, and torn. His entire body was dripping wet and muddy. Lacerations and cuts covered much of his body, especially his head area...

Photos:
1) Baby Gepi's First Night At Home
2) Gepi Opening His Christmas Present
3) Gepi On A Weekend Trip With Us

Godwin H. Barton

Promises...

2008-10-20T18:16:00.024-07:00

Greetings!

I woke up this morning feeling great. As of late, I've been getting up, showering, running out the door and grabbing breakfast on my way to work. This morning I thought I'd go back to square one- make coffee after showering, have cereal and/or toast with a protein shake, then head off to work. This just felt like the right thing to do.

As I sat having breakfast I looked at my bible and daily devotional sitting on the table in front of me. I thought of my previous times of sold out devotion to the Father and to the fellowship. I thought of how I used to wake every morning and the first words to come out of my mouth were: "Good morning Father. I love you." These still do come but not as devotedly and as passionately as it once was. I remembered how I couldn't wait to get on my knees and start fellowshipping with the Father. I also remembered how I couldn't wait to get into reading the bible...how exciting this all was. At these times, Sunday couldn't come fast enough- effectual, fervent times of worship and praise. Testifying, excitedly, about the beauty and glory of an almighty and powerful God- how I couldn't wait to share his goodness. Then I asked myself...what happened?

I thought, "Well, I am going through a separation...an inevitable divorce." Then I thought, "No. This lack of commitment and desire has been going on for a longer period of time..." Suddenly the image of my brother Fred and myself in church hit me like a ton of bricks. The image of how we used to fellowship together and hearing again the words that were prophesied over us. A very evident lump arose in my throat, tears welled in my eyes. Church unknowingly had become a place of voidness because Fred was no longer there. I began to feel the loss, the pain. I began to speak to God as if he were sitting in the chair across from me. I began to express myself- my thoughts, my emotions, my tears...I began to cry.

As I cried I confessed my weakness, my hopelessness, my despair, my pain, my brokenness and, although it's not as evident as before, my anger . I confessed that in appearances it seemed that I was living a life free of these things and that I was doing quite well, but evidenced by the sometimes wickedness of my tongue and behavior absolutely unfitting for a Christian, obviously, something somewhere was not right. I realized that since my brother's death, spiritually, I really have taken a few steps back. The once burning fiery flames of passion that even burned as an inferno, have become flickering lights in the night, and...it's only the Grace of God that has kept me going. It is said that there is a way that seems right to a man but in the end it leads to destruction- I may have been treading on these grounds. I'm only glad to be still alive today.

Fred and I loved being in the presence of Lord. We'd dance, shout, clap, laugh and cry-the greatest was in the thick of it all and all you could do was clench your fists with your hands shooting in the air and shouting "JESUS!!!" over and over again. Our eyes were as if they were flames of fire that shot boldly into incomprehensible darkness with an expressoin of absolute determination and drive, triumph and victory. It was like calling on the captain of captains, the leader of leaders, the champion- the ultimate warrior: with him you would know no defeat- there was no defeat in him. With him, no matter how great your problems, all things were possible and every thing would be o.k. Some how, dancing, shouting, and glorifying him seemed to add dimensions to his already great and tremendous strength and ability; an undeniable and undefeatable force. It was a beauty unimaginable and something the human mind and spirit could not fully comprehend. It was joy beyond our greatest expectation and fellowship the greatest riches of this world could not buy. We'd speak to each other of the things of the Lord with diamonds in our eyes, a sparkle enough to light the night skies. Our excitement was such that a lot of the time we'd speak so excitedly that our words would be pouring out a mile a minute especially when it came to talking about the word of God and reciting scripture. Fred could recite scripture after scripture word for word and by all of the passion of his heart, you knew he believed it...I believed it too.

It was spoken unto us, my brother Fred and myself, by our then pastor who also operated in the gift of prophesy: "There's something different about you two, I don't know for sure what it is and I've never seen anything like it before. You two have been given a special annointing for a specific purpose...like Joshua and Caleb- the two that were not afraid..." She spoke these words, not necessarily prophetically, but in awe of the Glory of God that shone in and around us. This, I know is where I began to feel the loss and slip from the fellowship- Fred is no longer here: physically, he is dead. As I recollected I began again to hear and recite the promises of God.

Numbers 23: 19- God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?

Isaiah 55:11- So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.

Proverbs 30:5- Every word of God is pure; he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him.

Romans 4:21- And being fully pursuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform.

These are just a few of the promises that began again to run rampant in my heart and spirit as I envisioned my brother and myself in the fellowship. Hearing again the many words that were spoken over us and wondering how these things now could ever be. I know I serve a God that specializes in impossibilities- I know that my brother physically has been in the grave now for over three years. How could that glory ever be recaptured; how can those days ever be relived. How can I ever have my brother back again that the church and fellowship with the Father can become again that which it used to be. I don't know...but God does.

I ended my time of fellowship at the breakfast table with gratitude- thanking the Father for the years that I had with my brother- for those times of fellowship...asking him to bring me again to the beauty of what it once was; to start over again. I didn't ask for a sign, but I did ask him to show me something beautiful today: "Please Father, show me a miracle."

Today marks what would have been my seventh year wedding anniversary. My wife and I separated almost six months ago. I felt the loss but paid little or no attention to it. My wife and I get along fine, we are actually better friends than we were a husband and wife. Now, we have fun together and do a lot more together than we ever used to. We're still divorcing, we've accepted this. It's the best thing for us...we tried, it's just unfortunate it didn't work out. I really didn't feel like doing much of anything today when I got home from work. I checked my emails and sat down to watch a movie. My tv sits in front of my living room window. The curtains were slightly drawn. I was right into my movie and then looked up. There it was, as if it was magically painted and instantly appeared- a big beautiful rainbow. It flashed perfectly across my living room window perfectly fitted between the width of the drawn curtains. It was as if it were made especially for me. Immediately I remembered my request: "Please Father, show me a miracle." I fell to my knees as I always do in times of extreme jubilation and thankfulness. I began to kiss the floor, seven times, thanking the Father while making the sign of the cross upon my being- this is just what I do. I forgot, but he didn't. He took the time to send me a rainbow. The rainbow is the sign that he placed in the sky as a reminder of his promise.

Genesis 9: 13, 14, 15- I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth. And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh.

Grace, Mercy, Peace, Patience and Love: God. This is what it is all about. This is who he is and what he does. He sends you your rainbow when you least expect it and reminds you of his promises when you have forgotten.

Be blessed...In his love and mine: Godwin B.

The Father's Touch

I feel the father's touch, as the sun warms on my face
a tender picture of beauty, a tender picture of grace.
Reminded of his love, through the dancing butterfly
in all its radiant colors, rainbows in the sky...

Photos:
1)The Rainbow: Taken today from my living room window the moment it appeared.
2) My high school graduation- 1981 : My brother Fred and myself.

Beyond the Golden Door

2008-02-11T23:15:00.003-08:00

Greetings! I have such a longing to be with my family members who have passed on- especially mom, dad, Fred and Linda; just to see them again. I miss them all so much. I reflect on movies that I've seen, movies based on true stories. One of the latest, "Peaceful Warrior." It is a magnificent movie and by the end you (I) conclude that the young man's mentor is either an angel or an alien. I choose to believe he is an angel. It is a movie about mystical and magical events; the saving of a young man's life really. The events depicted in the story too are some what hard to believe...but, it is said, they are true.

I think of the miracles in my life: of stalking the eagle in the wild; the messenger in the night (Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul- Touched by a Higher Power); and the dates in my bibles. I think of the transparent, floating, very beautiful lady that I had seen while doing home work into the late hours of the night.

We lived in a small, older apartment attached to the back part of a larger building in Chilliwack, B.C. It was about 4:00 am in the morning and I was sitting at the living room table doing science homework. This was my first year of university. Every one else was in bed, sleeping. There was no one awake but me. From where I was sitting you could see into the kitchen. Immediately on the other side of the kitchen was a door. This lead into the only other bed room in the apartment. Right next to this door was a fridge- between the fridge and the wall there was a space of about a foot and a half. Stacked inside this space were a few pots and pans, one on top the other.

I had a lamp on the table and the light was on in the kitchen. I looked up and there she was: one of the most beautiful beings I'd ever seen. She appeared for about twenty seconds, it was quick. I stared. I wasn't scared; I was amazed. She had long flowing, very beautiful hair. I vaguely recall her facial features but she was beautiful. She was wearing a very beautiful long and flowing gown. I clearly seen her hands, very delicate as she moved them slightly in a walking motion. As she moved, she drifted about a foot off the floor. Then, as she quickly passed all the pots and pans, bang! All the pots and pans fell to the floor. She then disappeared. I sat staring. I wasn't afraid- I was curious, amazed. I sat for a bit pondering the experience and then went to wake my friend and told her what had just happened.

My point: If events like this can happen and those of the "Peaceful Warrior," then surely there must be a way to access these realms: the realms of the supernatural and the spiritual.

I often think on these things. I only want to get a glimpse of my brother. Lately, I've been missing him so much.

Beyond the Golden Door

There’s a path I long to take not laid with earthly ground

a direction so intangible not even a whispering sound.

Many are the souls of them who’ve journeyed on before

awakened on the other side before an open door...

...Suddenly you realize there’s no flesh but only spirit

no audible sound of the voice but you so clearly hear it.

No more is the shape of man but beautiful beams of light

such eloquence and majesty and burning oh so bright...

Monday, February 11, 2008

In Loving Memory

2007-06-23T11:14:00.003-07:00

Linda Joyce Barton
March 26, 1960 - March 4, 2006

You’ll Always Be My Baby Sister

You’ll always be my baby sister I write to honor you
for all your kind and loving ways and gentle spirit too.
Your smile was such that we could see you coming from far away
people loved to meet with you- you brightened their every day.

I hear your laughter and see your joy to others you brought the same
life to you was never complicated it was never a vicious game.
You learned to live internally to let your little light shine
living each moment the best you could taking it one day at a time.

You kept your home most beautifully- your lovely haven of rest
people entered and felt so welcomed in this they were truly blessed.
You offered drink and also food giving the best you could
if it were possible to give the world this you surely would.

You’ve lovely daughters grandchildren too of which you were so proud
your heart it sang this beautiful song just ringing it out loud.
I remember watching you on your couch as you watched your little ones play
they never wanted to leave your side with you they wanted to stay.

This says a lot of the person you were and the one you’ll always be
such treasured moments and special times a golden memory.
To see a rose its beautiful scent igniting the passion of love
I see your face and hear your voice encircling from above.

Can You Hear the Whisper

2007-04-28T18:11:00.003-07:00

Hello Again!

In the past three weeks I've had tremendous experiences that have really taken me back to the days of my childhood, and life on my reserve. On the Easter long weekend we went to visit a friend of mine who I had not seen in ten years, an elder that I used to work with at the Native Education Centre. Being on his reserve brought me back to the days of my childhood: the scents, sounds, activity, hospitality, and emotion. I returned to Vancouver revived.

This week, I was on a school camping trip with ten staff and ninety-five students. We were at a camp on the Sunshine Coast (of which it poured all three days of our trip), located at the edge of the ocean. In spite of the rain, the kids were real heros; no one complained, and every one was fully involved in all the camp activities, both in-door and out-door. For the most part, it was a lot of fun.

An hour or so after we arrived at the camp, I had a few moments of quiet time. I sat under the covered area where archery takes place. This light structure reminded me of one of the forts we attempted to build as children. It was amongst some bushes, just like the ones that grow on my reserve, the ones with the small, pretty pink, early spring flowers. There were trees all around, ever green and hemlock, and a lot of grass. It was pouring rain. I sat with my eyes closed listening to the sounds around me. There was the steady sound of rain hitting the shelter top as well as the sound rain makes as it's bounching off leaves. This was accentuated by the heavy "bloop! bloop! bloop!" that rain makes as it drips heavily into puddles. The birds seemed to sing each in turn; then came this humming sound, increasing in intensity as it neared, slightly strong that I could feel a soft vibration. Curiously, I opened my eyes.

There, about two feet in front of me, suspended in mid air, was this hummingbird. It did its little dance, then darted for the bush. The scents too were all the scents associated with life growing up on the reserve. I began to reflect on my childhood; thinking about mom and dad, Fred and Linda, and the years, how they've gone so quickly.

It was a beautiful time and an absolutely wonderful experience. A trip that I am very glad I made. This is all very healing.

Can You Hear the Whisper…

Can you hear the whisper of my heart,
as I tell you I love you so;
can you also hear the sad regrets,
it hurt me to let you go.

Can you feel the touch of my hand,
the way we used to play;
hear the laughter and feel the joy,
that filled our every day....

Photos: Mom and dad, probably taken late 50's early 6o's.

Missing You Will Never End

2007-03-27T22:12:00.000-07:00

I Think About You...

I think about you continuously,
how you meant so much to me;
the hugs, smiles, fun and laughter,
echo endlessly.
Your spirit dances deep within,
causing my heart to soar;
touching, feeling, ever healing,
even beyond heaven's door.

Godwin H. Barton ©

Modern Day Prophet?

2007-03-10T15:08:00.000-08:00

Greetings! I feel a deep presence resonating within me, a feeling that I should write. The words that keep coming to me are: "modern day prophet." I reflect on the office of the prophet, who was, in earlier times known as a "seer." I continually think on the happenings in my life: the messenger in the night (Chicken Soup- Recovering Soul: Touched By A Higher Power), the experience of the, "Eagle in the Wild," and, most significantly, the dates in my bibles. As these are "extraordinary" events, coupled with the many other significant happenings in my life, I can't help but feel there is more to my existence, and something greater that I have been called to do. I feel, as I do very profoundly right now, a strong tugging on my heart, in my spirit, and in my soul. It's something that I have never been able to shake, be away from. It just keeps on reverberating and making its presence known.

Prophets had dreams and interpreted dreams. There is significant communication in dreams; some dreams are prophetic, and even warnings. Of people that have come to me, two stand out very clearly in my mind. One was a young man, in his early thirties. He said that he kept having this recurring dream. In his dream, there was this casket floating down a river. In the casket was a young man with no face. This is all his dream was, and nothing else, his dream would end. Before I told him what had come to me immediately, I called another friend who was close by. I said, "I need you to witness this. Frank (not his real name), has come to me with a dream and wants to know the interpretation. It's quite serious, and, before I tell him what has come to me, I'd like you to be here as a witness; to hear what is being said." He agreed. I said to Frank, "Now remember, you asked me this. You may not like what I am about to tell you, but I'm going to tell you any way." Frank was a very short tempered young man, very troubled. He was a part of a christian group that we belonged to. We had just come from doing street ministry. Frank used to often get into arguments with people. He was very forceful, and sometimes, quite aggressive. I began to tell him: "The person in the casket is you. The reason the face is missing, is that somewhere deep inside of you, there is something that you are not willing to face, or to deal with. As long as you keep ignoring, and not dealing with this issue, it's going to mean one of two things. First, your spiritual death- signified by the river of water, (Biblically, water is symbolic of the Spirit); or, second, your physical death, signified by the casket." I looked at Frank. He became very upset, very angry. "You don't know what you're talking about! Get away from me!" Frank did not heed the word, he refused the warning. He got mad, and pushed me aside. A few weeks later, it was not determined if it was suicide, or an accident, but Frank ended up being run over by a semi. He died instantly.

The second, has to do with church leadership. A close family member came to me and said, "I had this strange dream last night. In my dream, a giant cockroach was in our church, walking up and down the aisle, eating people." I told him: "Some one in leadership is going to die, and there is going to be a great falling away." This is exactly what happened. A short time later, one of the church leaders was diagnosed with a terminal illness, and died very quickly. This person was loved by many. Many lost faith and hope, many turned away. The church, for a period of time, and due also to other events, was almost empty.

Then, there are my own dreams. One, a few years ago, when I was still living in Chilliwack, B.C. In this dream, one of my nephews and his girlfriend had come to visit. We were shopping for groceries at Save-On-Foods. No sooner had we exited the store with our purchases, the roof caved in. My dream ended. Now this is not a normal dream. Two weeks later, the roof of the newly completed, Save-On-Foods at Metrotown, in Burnaby, B.C., caved in. Luckily, no one was hurt.

I also had dreams of my brother's and sister's death, two sisters, which too have come to pass.

Eagles are a huge part of my life. Not too long ago I had this dream. In my dream, I was in my home area kicking a soccer ball around with one of my nephews, and a very good friend of ours. We were playing in a sandy area with a lot of dry grass. My nephew kicked the ball, I went running after it. As I was running, I noticed something sticking out of the ground. I took a closer look. To my dismay, it was the beak of an eagle. I dug around the beak, there was its head, then full body. It had been very ruthlessly killed. Its body was covered with coins, deteriorating and rusted. Literally, hundreds of dirty, old coins. A great sadness over came me. I knelt next to the eagle and said a prayer. My dream ended.

I shared this dream with my wife. The interpretation did not come immediately. The thought kept coming to me, that someone was killing eagles for money. I prayed if this be so, let it be revealed. A week or so later, a story broke in the news of many eagles that were found dead, and buried, in the bushes of North Vancouver. The people had been killing them for their parts and selling them. As the story unfolded, there were over two hundred eagles that had been killed. I prayed that justice would be served, and the people responsible for the deaths of these eagles, be found and dealt with accordingly. They were found, as to their final fate, I do not know.

Prophets spoke and the elements obeyed. A couple of weeks ago the forecast called for rain, rain, rain. I awoke at 5:30 am to use the washroom, and, the rain was pelting down on our skylite. I remembered the forecast, and spoke: "I speak the staying of the rain and I call forth the sunshine." When I woke at 7:00, the rain had stopped, and by early morning the sun was shining. The next day called for rain and snow. I spoke, because on these days I had to do a lot of driving: "I speak the staying of the rain and the snow! Again, I call forth the sunshine!" By early morning there was no rain, no snow, only sunshine. I thought I'd leave it at that and think on these things. Coincidence or truth?

Is there really such a thing as a modern day prophet? If so, what can he/she possibly do that can be greater than any thing that has already been done, and recorded, in the bible?

Prophets made requests that were often granted. One time we, a good friend and myself, had trouble remembering this man's name. He was a good friend of ours, but, we couldn't remember his name. We were standing right there talking with him. Afterward, my friend and I were racking our brains trying to remember his name; we couldn't. Before I went to bed I said to the Father, "Father, you know that man's name. Reveal it to me in a dream tonight." That night, I dreamt I was in a church. I was at the back part of the church talking to a lady. This same man walked past, immediately, I asked the lady, "What is that man's name?" She said, "That's Walter. Walter Garcia." I awoke in the morning, I remembered my dream, and went immediately to my friend and said, "Hey! The guy last night, his name is Walter Garcia." He said, "Yeah right. How did you remember?" I told him, "I asked God, and he told me." We laughed a bit and rejoiced.

At another time, my brother Fred and I were helping out our cousin, picking up her grandson at his school and bringing him home. When ever we came to her house she usually offered us food and drink. This one day I had a craving for home made chow mein. I said, "Father, if she offers me food today, let it be home made chow mein." I walked in the door with the grandson, the first words to come out of her mouth were, "Are you hungry? Would you like some home made chow mein?" I smiled, and said yes.

There are many more significant happenings. Some major, others small reminders that I, we, are not alone.

There are many real life experiences. There are the two lightning strikes, each, within about a twenty, to twenty five foot range of me. Each time, I was enshrouded in a sheet of blinding, pure, white light, with the exploding sound of thunder, deafening my ears. The one strike hit the top of a church building a few feet away, with every car alarm throughout the street going off. Me? I buckled to the ground with my hands covering my ears, and eyes shut, under the presence of such raw, natural power. The second strike, about a week later, hit a tree about twenty five feet away, snapping of the top part entirely. Again, I found myself enshrouded by pure white light, with the deafening sound of thunder exploding inches from my ears. I came to, I had staggered to the center of the bridge, luckily there were no cars coming. I shouted, "Alright! Alright Father! What is it? What is it that you want?" "If you're trying to tell me that you're powerful, I know! I know that you are powerful!" I continued on my way home.

Going back to dreams, about a week ago, I dreamt that I was in my village of Kincolith. I was on the cement walk way going into the Christ Church. I had on garments fitted for a prophet, and a long, brown, wooden staff in my hand. The staff was about six feet long, and the upper part of it was covered with two to three inch wooden spikes. I stood underneath the grey cast sky, facing the church. Snow was falling very heavily. Snow had also piled a few inches on the ground. There was a certain darkness about it, a very unpleasant feeling. I raised my staff and shouted: "I speak the staying of the snow and I call forth the sunshine." Immediately, the snow stopped. The snow that was on the ground began to melt, roll back, as a blanket that is being pulled from a bed. All the snow was gone and the sun began to shine. Later on in the dream, a group of people from a local church were walking toward me. One man among them ran to their pastor and said, "See. This is the man that did what you have just witnessed. He spoke to the elements, and they listened." The pastor, some one I know in real life, looked at me. His look was of fear and apprehension. He tried to connect with my eyes, but he couldn't. My dream ended.

The reason I've written all this is that I know, there is great penalty for the one who abuses the office/gifting, of the prophet; if indeed, this is my calling. I know, that in one instance in particular, I am guilty of this. In a moment of anger, I blurted out to another some thing that I had felt, had been totally confident of, by the dreams this individual had been sharing with me; this involved death. I hurt this person, tremendously. I have confessed my wrong to this person, and I, we, have made amends. We have chosen to forgive. In earnest prayer, I have made request to the Father, that death would not be upon this individual; and, for my misuse of the gift, that this sentence be moved upon me. If it be so, that His will be done on earth, as it is in heaven, concerning this. I question, is this enough that my sentence be passed. Of this, I am not certain. The misuse of this gift is punishable by the taking away of this gift, or, even by death. There is a tremendous responsiblility that comes with bearing such a gift, I pray always, if I continue to be groomed in it, that I use it wisely.

If I die, it will not be because of what the Lord has done, or anything that man has done to me. Do not hold this against any one. It will be because I have been served by the highest court of the universe, and my punishment, fitting to my crime. Remember, my family, God is still God, and always will be God. Nothing will ever change this: Nothing! I want you to continue praising him; continue up lifing his name. Keep on worshipping him. Keep on living for Him. He's God above all Gods: King of Kings; and Lord of Lords...there is none other like unto him. NOTHING...will ever change this. My punishment will not negate my entrance into heaven, I will still meet you there. It will, however, forfeit all the glory that lie before me, in what ever it is that God wanted to do through me. This will be passed onto some one else.

What is my greatest fear? This is my greatest fear: that all that I've longed so much for, in the awesome display of God's power, I may not live to see.

Herein lies a warning for every one else outside of us: Psalms 105-15: "Saying, touch not mine annointed, and do my prophets no harm."

I feel what needed to be written, has been written. The undeniable tugging of my spirit, for now, has subsided. I know, it will come again.

Image: Red Sea: www.itsablackthang.com
Artists: Allen and Aaron Hicks

Eighteen: The Number of Life

2007-02-18T11:40:00.005-08:00

REPOST.

Greetings! It's been ninteen years since I've received the date: February 18th. As you will recall in a previous post, "A Work In Progress," this date was given to me in 1988, and the significance of it discovered a few years later. From my personal experience, I keep expecting something truely miraculous to happen on this day. Each year brings with it this same "great expectantcy." Although there has been no tremendous manifestation, the miracle of it all is the life I now live, signified by the continual healing in my life - a life of absolute sobriety; drug and alcohol free now for over eight years. February eighteenth was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to me.

I'm going to share an excerpt on a very painful time in my life. A time when I could have been killed. I was six years old...

I have faint memories of my mother's funeral. There's the one image of all the brothers and sisters along with dad, standing helplessly, hopelessly, beside our mother's casket. There is emptiness, sadness. In light of the faith that she had instilled within us of a mighty and miracoulous God, the fact remained, she lay dead before us. I turn to look at one of my brothers. His face was shapened with pain, his lips quivering, and his eyes held back a flood of tears, holding onto nothing. My sisters, their cries so piercing and great. I turned to look at our father - it was pain personified, evidenced by the rivers of tears, uncontrollable cries, and his shaking body. In my mind I asked, "Why did you have to die? What does this all mean, and will I ever see you again." Hands upon shoulders, brother to brother, sister to sister, brother to sister, and father to children. No words were spoken. It's impossible to speak amidst great pain. There's only the sound of deep groanings between sobs, unending and from the deepest parts of the soul. In my young heart I prayed, "Father help me through the times that are to come. What is death and how do I handle this?" Angrily I stepped away from the casket. The days of darkness and despair were just beginning. "God is to blame for this! I'll show him!"

The pain of this experience manifested itself in our lives in many ways...

...Dragging me up the steps of the back porch, he threw me onto the floor. He grabbed the first thing he could see, a pipe pole. As I looked at that pipe pole, knowing what was about to happen, my pain turned to fear as I pleaded and begged through sobs and tears, "I'm sorry dad! I'm sorry! I'll be a good boy! Please! I promise. I'll be a good boy!" My dad was even angrier than he was a few moments ago. Pipe pole in hand and me in the other, he pushed open the kitchen door and threw me onto the kitchen floor. Terror ran through my body. It seemed, nothing in the world could stop what was about to happen. By now, through soul agonizing cries, on my hands and knees facing my father, I was begging for mercy, apologizing, "Dad I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry." There would be no mercy for this broken hearted six year old child, as the force behind the aggressor was that of imense pain and anger, driven by the death of the one whom he had loved the most. My pleas fell upon deaf ears...

Post Script: I ran away from Port Alberni Residential School when it was time to return for another year. I was nine. The bus was readying to leave from Prince Rupert, B.C. I looked to my brother and sister who were also on the bus with me. I told them I wasn't going back, and, that I was going to run. I asked if they wanted to run with me. Fred looked at Linda and asked her if she wanted to run. She said no. She said that she wouldn't be able to keep up with us and told us to go. Fred then looked at me and said no, you go. I'm going to go back with Linda. I hesitated, then I ran.

I stayed hidden in a very dark spot in an alley, underneath some stairs in down town Prince Rupert. I hid behind some 45 gallon drums. It was two o'clock in the morning when I began to make my way home knowing for sure, now, the bus had left without me.

I approached the door to the house, not knowing what to expect. I opened the door slowly, cautiously. I peeked in. I heard the sound of someone sobbing, crying. I also heard the uttterance of words through this, like someone praying. I snuck in. It was my father. No one else was home. I whispered, "Dad?" He took one look at me and starred at me in disbelief. Tears rolling down his face and in desperation, he threw open his arms and called me to him. I ran to him, threw myself on his lap, wrapping my arms around him as he wrapped his around me. We just sat there and cried. We cried and cried as he held me in one of the most beautiful hugs I'd ever felt in a long, long time. He pleaded, "Don't you ever leave me again son. Don't you ever leave me again. I love you so much. Don't you ever leave me again."

I ran the way that I did, not knowing the real reason why I was running. I ran to spend the last six months of my dad's life with him. On February 14th, 1973, he died. I am extremely grateful for this time. If things had not happened this way, my last memory of him would have been the pipe pole and the beating. Now, it's been replaced by the experience of my father's love.

I truely love and miss you dad. Thank you for being my father. As our brother Fred said, you couldn't have picked a better day to go and be with our mother, right on Valentine's Day.

In Hebrew, as it has been told me, 18 is the number of life. I am so thankful for the one I have today.

February Fourteenth 2007
"Happy Valentine's Day Dad!"

It’s been thirty-four years today since you went away
February fourteenth right on Valentine’s Day.
In the year of our Lord nineteen-seventy-three
a shoe box full of valentine’s waiting for you to see...

...You were my greatest jewel my most beautiful treasure
you were the diamond that I clung to loving without measure.
For every lesson that you taught me I still cling to today
in my darkest moments you still show me the way...

Originally written February 14th, 2003

2006-11-26T12:37:00.000-08:00

The Beauty Within

If you look in the mirror and see a twinkle in your eye
it’s a reflection of your soul a fiery sky.
Your strength is great and your beauty serene
a magnetic personality by all persons seen.
So when life around you is rough and the mirror’s reflection dim
focus not on your outward beauty but see the beauty within.

Life Through Another Door

2006-11-22T17:57:00.004-08:00

Greetings! I've had something fluctuating within me for some time now; this is basically how it goes. Sometimes I can just sit and write, at other times thoughts and messages circulate in me and I know it's something that I should write about. This has been happening in relation to memories. I sit and reflect a lot on the losses of my brother and sister, the lives that we had together. Most recently, the loss of my brother in law who was a very, very large part of our family. These deaths happened so quickly and in a space of thirteen months and a few days. I keep thinking, life is too short. I must learn to live it to the fullest and without regret. What do I need to do differently now that I wasn't doing before. The answer: make memories.

Making memories means going to the P.N. E. and riding the rollercoaster hands in the air from the beginning to the end, even if you don't feel like it. Laughing and hollering through it all as your niece sits beside you hanging on for dear life managing some laughter between her screams. The picture in the end is of one seemingly dancing in the seat as the other hangs on tight, both faces smiling, filled with laughter and excitement from the thrill of the ride. The image is set in time and etched deeper in the heart when your niece turns to you and says, "Let's do that again!" My wife on the other hand, one time was enough for her as she so boldly got on saying: "I can handle this. I go on the one in Budapest all the time." If I had known, I would have told her the one in Budapest is a kitten compared to the lion that we have here. She screamed, eyes closed, from the beginning to the end: she was absolutely terrified. I could not go hands in the air as she was squeezing the life out of me using me as an anchor and laughter was hard to find because I just wanted to get her off the ride alive. Well, the ride stopped. She finally opened her eyes and we looked at each other...instantly, we burst out laughing. I asked, "Are you o.k.?" We laughed even harder. We staggered over to the photo both and looked at our picture. She said, "No thanks. I don't look too good in there!" Teasingly I said, "So my brave Little Flower, want to try that again?"

Make the most of every moment, laugh as much as you can, and include as many others as you can in every beautiful moment. The ones you love, tell them how much you love them.

Take a ride on the Log Shute falling down the steepest drop, "Yes!" No hands- hollering, screaming, shouting, cheering...drenched by a blanket of water cooling the heat of the day. Go to the kiddie area and jump on a few rides. The Kiddie Roller Coaster, a sweet experience, rough enough that afterward I asked, "Boy, I wonder how many kids are messed up after that little ride." Even my wife screamed. The Scrambler and the Gladiator and of course, the Merry Go Round: We have to go on the Merry Go Round. Never too old to be a kid, after all, this is the stuff that memories are made of.

I want you to remember me for what I was. The times that I made you laugh, the times that I made you smile. The times that I sat and had a listening ear and sometimes with you just sat and cried because there were no words in the english language that could tell you how I was feeling. Of course there will be the sad times, the times that I made you cry; the times that I hurt you: for all of these I am so very sorry. That's the other thing...words so much fail to describe what it is that we are truly feeling. And when it comes to making apologies, the words too can be very difficult to find. This is why I make you that cup of coffee that you weren't expecting and bring it to you first thing in the morning, especially after a big, big fight. This too is the reason that I straighten your bed for you when it's time to go to bed, sometimes I do it with a tear in my eye because sorry is so hard to come by. When I look at you and all you see is sorrow in my face and tears welling up in my eyes it's my way of saying I'm so sorry I hurt you again, it's something that I said I would never do. Again, this is the stuff that memories are made of.

I've decided that I'm going to say sorry to as many people as I can who I know I have wronged. I'm going to talk to people who are a part of my life that I don't often talk to. For all the ones that I love, I'm going to tell them that I love them.

I realize that I'm not quaranteed a tomorrow. As the saying goes, tomorrow may be too late. My brother, sister, and brother in law have reminded me of this. I'm going to be the best that I can be and all that I can be. I'm going to live each day to the fullest and without regret. I'm going to party with the Rolling Stones this weekend at B.C. Place Stadium and like the other times before, it's going to be one of the greatest times of my life. I'm going to write poetry and songs, finish my book and dance, this is the stuff that life's made of. Memories: I want you to remember me making you laugh and smile; feeling appreciated. I want you to remember me, remembering you.

Life Through Another Door

If I knew tomorrow my time would end here’s a list of things that I’d do:
first I’d call you up and brighten your day and tell you I truly love you.
I’d make amends for all the pain I’ve caused and every tear that I made fall;
I’d hold you in a tender embrace begging forgiveness and that’s not all...

...Most of all I’d write you a song for the whole world to sing along,
warming your heart with melodies sending you love when I’m gone.
If by chance tomorrow would come and my eyes they’d open no more,
remember my friend it’s not the end but life through another door.

The Silver Corvette

2006-07-18T23:40:00.002-07:00

My brother Fred died September 24, 2005. Five months and a few days later my sister Linda died. I had dreams about my brother Fred's death months before his passing. This is the last dream that I had about two months before he died.

I was in a small room with a single bed in one corner and a chair at the foot of the bed. The room was very clean, well lit, with no other furniture and one door opposite the end of the bed. Lying on the bed, on his stomach, was my brother. His head was turned to the side with his eyes closed and a look of peace all about him. He was dead. Sitting on the chair at the foot of the bed was our friend Nelson, who died at least two years earlier. I stood at the end of the bed next to Nelson, starring at my brother. I asked, "What happened?" He replied, "Nothing. He got up, said he was going to the store, came back, laid down and went to sleep." "That's it. Nothing more. He just went to sleep." I felt rage well up within me as I stood there. Then I remembered: just a minute, I'm a changed man. I'm not the man I used to be. The rage subsided as I bid my brother farewell. My dream ended.

We stopped over in Prince George for the night on our return from our brother's memorial and funeral. At breakfast I told my sister about the last dream that I had about Fred's death. She replied some what surprised and encouraged, "That's exactly what happened! He phoned me earlier that day saying that he had just returned from the store. He said he was feeling fine. He got up, showered, and decided to go for a walk. He went to the store." She continued, "He was so happy, laughing because he got lost on his way home and had to stop and ask someone for directions. First time something like this happened since he moved into his own place. That's the last I heard from him. He said he was tired and was going to rest. He died later on that night."

I spoke to Fred on the phone three times the day of his passing: at 1:00 p.m., 3:00 p.m., and again at 6:00 p.m. I was very concerned about him and felt a deep need to talk to him. His last words to me were, "I'm very tired bro. I'm going to lay down and get some rest now. I love you and I'll talk to you again later."

Around the middle of February I had another dream. Fred came speeding up to me in a silver corvette. It was a hatch-back with polished silver highlites. He slammed on the brakes, and very skillfully came to a complete stop directly in front of me. He shouted, "Get in!" I looked and there was one of our sisters sitting in the passenger seat next to him. I got in and Fred shouted, "Hang on!" We took off like a silver bullet. When I realized what was happening, and at the speed that we were going, I fought with all of my strength to get that hatch back open. Suddenly, I hollered with all that was in me, "JJEEESSUSSS!" That hatch back flew open, and in slow motion like movement, I jumped out of that corvette in a semi-circle landing on my feet. I turned to the corvette as it was traveling faster than the speed of light, disappearing into the next dimension, through a haze of fog and cloud. I seen only the rear of the corvette as it became a silver blurr. I stood and said, "I'm sorry guys, but I'm not ready for this." The corvette disappeared. My dream ended.

At first I thought it was my sister Sharon that was in the front seat. Upon reflection and prayer, I realized that it was my sister Linda. I said to my wife two weeks before my sister's death, I think Linda is going to be going home soon. Fred came to pick her up in a silver corvette. Two weeks later, quite suddenly, Linda died.

She had in her young life, three major open heart surgeries. Besides other work, she had implanted two artificial heart valves. She was on heart medications and blood thinners. For a brief period of time she was without her blood thinners and had gotten very, very sick, with pneumonia and developed a very serious blood clot. She was sent to the Terrace General Hospital, and within a day or two, to Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria B.C. On the morning of March 4th, 2006, at 5:30 a.m., I received a call from the doctor in Victoria saying that Linda was not going to make it, and, that I should inform the rest of the family. He said that she would not make it through the next twenty-four hours and may even be gone by late afternoon. He requested that family come over as soon as possible so that she would not be alone when the time comes.

I phoned the family, and by noon, my wife, my sister Flora and myself, were on our way to Victoria. I prayed before our departure that the Lord would keep Linda alive long enough for us to spend some time with her. Before we left we had to go to the bank to cash a cheque. Upon leaving the bank I hopped into the car and said to my wife, "There. We are officially on our way. One stop, to pick up our sister Flora." We turned onto the main road, Broadway, and immediately a silver corvette pulled in front of us, leading us for a distance before it took its own course. My wife and I sat silently, looking at each other, and at the corvette. No words were spoken. We continued on our journey and arrived at the hospital at 4:30 in the afternoon. We got to spend some time with Linda. Although she was heavily sedated and non-responsive, we knew that she knew that we were there. As we spoke to her, tiny puddles of tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She passed away at seven-o-clock that evening.

I went back to the family room. My wife came in a few moments later offering her condolences and holding me. She said, "Sweet-heart. Remember when we turned on to Broadway and a silver corvette came in front of us." I said, "yes." "Your brother Fred came to get your sister Linda." I replied, "I know baby. I know." I held back my tears for I had to be strong. The time for my crying would come.

My sister, after the autopsy would be sent back to Terrace, back to the family at which time she would be taken to our reserve. No one, except my wife and sister Flora, knew about my dream of the silver corvette. A couple of days later we arrived in Terrace. My brother Cecil who had been looking after much of the affairs, concerning our sister, invited me to the funeral home to see the casket that they had picked out. He, our brother George, and sister Addie, had picked out a very simple but elegant casket for Linda, indicative of her gentle nature and calming spirit. She was a woman of great simplicity; very kind, very gentle, very giving, and very loving. He called me into the back room where the casket was, and to my surprise, I looked at it and exclaimed, "Cecil. The silver corvette!" (I had just shared with him my dream of the silver corvette the morning we arrived in Terrace). He said, "You're right!" The casket was finished with a fine silver, nicely patterned linen material, and the handles were all of polished silver. I stood there in awe, inspired, and encouraged. The hand of God, just like my brother's departure, was all over this.

The truck that drove my sister to her final resting place was silver. All these things unplanned, yet so beautifully put together.

I thank God for his mercy in preparing my heart for the departure of two of my best friends. The warnings were time for me to pray for increased strength and hope, for myself, and for my family; a prayer for protection over the souls of my brother and sister, and their soon eminent departures. One of the most beautiful things of all, the corvette has always been my dream car. Ever since my earliest years, around tenish, when I first seen the movie, "Corvette Summer," I've always had a fascination with corvettes. My brother and my sister, continue to enjoy the best ride of your new lives!

Another point of interest. We've seen many corvettes around town, but never a silver one. The first time we seen a silver corvette was about a month before our sister died. We were on our way to a coffee shop on Main Street, the corvette was parked on a side street on route to the coffee shop. I immediately pointed it out to my wife. It was a very beautiful car. The next time we seen a silver corvette was when we were leaving to see Linda in the hospital in Victoria.

Quite significantly, after my sister's death, and at the times that I'd really been missing both my brother and sister, a silver corvette would appear from some where, pass close by and breed feelings of such comfort. It was as if my brother and sister were driving by to say "Hi" and to let me know that everything is alright. Each time I whisper, "Hello my brother and sister. I love and miss you so very much."

God is so merciful.

Take care and may the Lord richly bless.

Sincerely,

Godwin H. Barton

The Two Best Friends of Mine

2006-07-09T17:54:00.002-07:00

IN LOVING MEMORY

Linda Joyce Barton
March 26, 1960 - March 4, 2006

Frederick Edward Barton
August 25, 1961 - September 24, 2005

The Two Best Friends of Mine

I'm trying so hard to be happy as I live each day here
to remember that I'm alive avoid the falling tear.
I force my feet to walk in paths that I know are right
thinking happy thoughts bringing light to the night.

Sometimes it's so unavoidable this pain that I feel
it shifts and shapes undeniably reminding that it's real.
A grip it holds so tight at other times barely known
I think the worst is over that I've surely grown.

A smile appears once more laughter in happy glee
then I sit in silence is this really me.
Family members no longer here now walk a different plane
bereaved I quietly ponder when will I see them again.

I try so hard not to cry to show my saddened heart
but is this good for my spirit is it being slowly torn apart.
Not talking about what's inside is this the way to go
putting on a happy face not letting the pain show.

I know they're in a better place no loneliness heartache or pain
no more open heart surgeries no more crashes in a plane.
No more saddening phone calls streets to walk aimlessly
unending joy and gladness is all there will ever be.

Please forgive me for I must cry for I surely miss you so
a sadness now I can't escape surely a pain I know.
The sting of death's not new to me it's visited many a time
I just never thought it would take so soon the two best friends of mine.

Loving you two always and forever, your brother:
Godwin. ©

The Zeno Test

2006-07-06T00:27:00.000-07:00

Another day has come to an end. It's now 12:24 a.m., Thursday, July 6th, 2006. It's one of my sister's birthday and right now she's on the bus travelling north to Terrace B.C. (Happy Birthday Sister!). This is also the day that I met my wife six years ago back in 2000. Six months later, in December, we were on our way to Hungary to meet her parents. This was the first greatest adventure of my life. I'd never been outside of B.C. other than a short drive now and again to the the states, let alone over seas to a country seven thousand five hundred miles away.

A few days before our departure we had a family gathering to share a traditional christmas dinner. Then, we were seventeen Indians and one Hungarian. Later on in Hungary at a traditional Indian camp facilitated by Hungarians, we were seventeen Hungarians and one Indian. If you were to research the traditional Hungarian way of life and compare it with the traditional Indian (First Nations), you would find that they are very similar.

Upon arriving in Hungary after a very lengthy nine and a half hour flight to Amsterdam and then a two hour connector to Budapest, I was very, very ecstatic. Excitement ran through me like electricity. Here I was, an Indian from a little reserve in the far reaches of north western British Columbia, Canada, seven thousand five hundred miles away from home in a very new and foreign land. I thought, "This can't be so bad. I have Vilma and her brother and from what they've told me about their parents, I'm going to be o.k." It was the dog that I was worried about.

They have this big Hungarian Vizsla named Zeno. From pictures that I have seen he's almost twice the size of the average Vizsla. He's also an excellent hunter; he goes on regular hunting trips with his master, my father in law. He once chased and caught a pheasant before it was even shot. His bark is very fierce and backed by his size it is a very convincing bark. His eyes also add to his stature as do his teeth. "Don't get him too excited and you'll be alright," is what I thought.

Zeno is also known to be an excellent guard dog. You'd never get near the house with out the whole neighbourhood knowing. The mail man fears him; the garbage men fear him; and any service agents that come would gladly stay outside that locked gate until his master comes along. When they see that Zeno is safely put behind a closed door only then do they breath a sigh of relief and enter the house. Upon doing so they will stay near the master's side knowing that he has full authority over Zeno and that he will protect them. Don't get me wrong, Zeno in my opinion would never ultimately hurt any one...he just guards very well those he loves and those who love him.

Our car pulled into the yard about the midnight hour. It was an hour and a half drive from Budapest. My future inlaws anxiously waited on the top stairs watching for us, or, watching for what would be Zeno's reaction when he saw me. The car stopped. I looked out the window and could see that big Vizsla running around the yard and then to the car. I looked toward my inlaws, they were watching intently. I heard Zeno's bark. It was loud. I was reassured by my brother in law, "Don't worry Godwin, he won't hurt you. You're a nice guy, I'm sure he'll like you."

I whispered a prayer and thought on my Indianess and connection with the animal kingdom. I opened the door. Zeno was running around the car barking excitedly. He ran toward my open door. I sat there as he starred at me. "Hello Zeno!" Leaping he placed his front paws in my lap and began licking my face. "Hello boy. I knew you were a kind one. I knew you wouldn't eat me. I think this is the beginnig of a good friendship." I got out of the car with Zeno happily taking each step with me.

I looked toward the stairs as my inlaws to be were starring, smiling, and even laughing. I passed the "Zeno test".

I am very proud of this, considering, that when one of the closest friends of the family - a sweet elderly man - comes to visit, Zeno goes into a rage; he has to be locked away at these times. Since Zeno is never wrong about people, the family sometimes wonders: What is it about the old man?

Today Zeno and I are best friends. Whenever we are in Hungary much time is spent walking and playing with Zeno. I feel so privileged to be his friend. Each time we part I share a few words with him. On our last departure the lump in my throat was huge as tears welled in my eyes- saying our temporary farewells. As we drove away Zeno was running along side the car inside the fench as he let out some of the most gut wrenching cries I'd ever heard a dog cry.

"It's o.k. boy. We'll meet again." And we will.

Take care!

Sincerely,

Godwin B.

In Loving Memory

2006-07-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

IN LOVING MEMORY:
Frederick Edward Barton: August 25, 1961 - September 24, 2005

The NightsTthrough the Seasons: Brothers Forever

I’m surely going to miss you playing the way that brothers do:
running, shouting, climbing, hiding, even swinging too.
Through courage, strength, hope and love, always seeking to revive-
I’m surely going to miss you your fighting spirit to stay alive.

The nights through the seasons hours laid awake in talk-
planning our next move where it is that we would walk.
Laughter then sometimes silence, asking, “Are you still awake?”
There didn’t come an answer had to give a gentle shake.

Looking to you my hero you brought my days to life-
Knowing you were there seemed to melt away the strife.
It was when I’d wake in the morning to the start of each new day-
I knew I had powerful wings to fly and together we’d fly away.

You’ll always be in the falling snow also the soft crunching sound-
you’ll always be in the whispering winds and the leaves that blow around.
You’ll always be in the sound of rain that falls beautifully in gentle showers-
you’ll always be in the beautiful sunshine that shines endlessly for hours.

So when I miss you I’ll go outside and be reminded that you’re everywhere-
just like you a most generous being you’re now the world’s to share.
My love for you yet pierces my heart it still moves my eye to tear-
But that’s o.k. because in the end I know that you’re so near.

For you my beloved brother: Frederick Edward Barton.

I (WE) LOVE AND MISS YOU SO VERY MUCH.

Cheers!

2006-07-04T14:04:00.000-07:00

Greetings !

It's been awhile since I've been blogging. I spent the past couple of hours adding photos to my existing posts. Hope you like them!

CHEERS! Especially to my family who have, and are enduring one of the toughest years of our lives! Our brother and sister live on....in a different place. Momentarily, we will see them again.

Love always,

Your brother,

Godwin B.

Dream: 222 - 2 : Completion

2006-03-01T23:14:00.000-08:00

Greetings! This will be continuing on the number "222" and what was the final, significant, occurance of it.

The official book launch party for "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul" was happening in Las Vegas, Nevada, on February 24th, 2005. This was in conjunction with the Ninth Renewal Convention on Adult Children, Recovery & Trauma which was scheduled February 23 - 26, 2005, at the Las Vegas Hilton.

When I was contacted by the author who had assisted me in the publication of my work, she asked if I, as a contributing author to Recovering Soul, would be attending the convention. I told her that I wasn't sure, that certain things needed to happen first in order for me to attend. First, I would need at least a week away from work and second, finances so that both my wife and myself could attend together. Well, both of these happened. Getting time away from work was no problem because I had accumulated 35 flex-time hours, this allowed me at least one week. As for the finances, a very short time before the convention, my bank had contacted me and wanted me in for a meeting regarding my financial situation. Apparently my credit rating had improved tremendously in a very short period of time and in the end, I ended up accepting a line of credit. This was not a bad deal, without a doubt, my wife and I knew we were on our way to Vegas.

As always seems to be the case, everything came together. We were on our way to Vegas and I was going to attend my first book launch party and book signing event ever...as a published author, and, staying at the Las Vegas Hilton for the entire week!

The day before we were to leave for Vegas I had a dream, this was on the morning of the 21st. The real significance of this is that it happened within minutes, and finished within seconds of my alarm clock going off at 7:00 a.m. I recorded the dream immediately and this is what it was:

I was at a table playing cards with my nephew Donald and another friend. It was my turn to play. I had no cards in my hand and had to pick up...I picked up three cards. The exact cards I picked up were 2-2-2. I looked, somewhat surprised, but not ultimately; I did not want my opponents to know that I had just drawn cards to make an excellent play-also, the number 222 had become a regular occurance in my life. I thought, "Hhhmmm. Interesting." I needed one more card for the throw away. My nephew drew it for me, threw it on the table...it was the last remaining two. My dream ended.

This is a beautiful dream. It's an indication of completion. I was on my way to Vegas and knew I was in for a wonderful time.

Being a person in recovery now for a few years, the convention itself was absolutely inspiring. The book launch party was scheduled on the second night of the convention. It began at seven and the official book signing event was scheduled for nine and was to finish at ten; at midnight, we were signing the last of the books. This was an event that I will never, never, forget. I sat so privileged among many very esteemed, established, world renown authors. I was one of sixteen.

I also met Elton John, chatted with him, shook his hand and have nineteen wonderful pictures to prove it. There were other celebrities present also but Elton John stole the show. I did meet at least two others: Robert Goulet, world famous Jazz singer and David Brenner, a famous comedian. Vegas, like the trips to Europe- Hungary, Italy (Venice), and a day in Austria (Vienna), impacted me so deeply that tears of absolute joy and thanks-giving flowed down my cheeks. Not bad when I think of the times that I was in my addictions and all I wanted to do was die. God is so merciful.

As I was preparing to leave Vegas to return to Vancouver, I walked toward the elevator on the seventeenth floor of our hotel. I reached for the elevator button, before I could press it the door opened on its own. No one was near the elevator and no one was in the elevator. I stepped inside and music was playing. The very next line said: "Thank you for opening the door for me." This spoke to me as I remembered my dream of the cards.

I'm anticipating great things. David, in the book of Psalm in the bible at one point said, referring to God, "The eyes of all look upon thee in great expectantcy."

I feel the same as I wait continually upon God, expecting great things. It seems 222 has been completed and the door is now open. I know the thoughts of my heart regarding my writing career. As one of my teacher friends said, "Godwin, I have high hopes for you as a writer."

Take care and may the Lord richly bless!

Sincerely,

Godwin H. Barton

And These Signs Shall Follow Them That Believe

2006-02-11T23:27:00.000-08:00

Greetings!

It's me again! My wife is such a beautiful and supportive person. Wanting me to continue blogging, she went on to blogger for me and worked until she solved the problem of my being unable to sign on. As per usual, even though it may seem to take forever with what-ever it is she is trying to solve regarding our computers, she always manages to fix the problem. Thank you wifey! I love you very much!

I continue to be infatuated with the significance of the number "222" and the role it has played in my life. After its series of occurances in early spring and with no real defining moments in regard to the "manifestation of a miracle," I'd not given up hope but believed that if God had cared enough to send me the message continually, that surely he would see it through to its end. This I absolutely believed, because, he, God, which has begun a good work in me is faithful and will see it unto its completion (Philippians 1:6).

The two most pressing issues in my life at this time were: one, waiting to hear back from an author/editor regarding a story that I had submitted for publication (Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul); and two, another trip to Europe. My wife is Hungarian, it had been four years since we had been to Hungary to visit her family. She missed them so much and my heart broke as I would sit and watch her knowing what she was thinking, feeling, and experiencing inside...especially the many times that we were out together or just sitting at home relaxing, above us the jets would fly over and because of the longing it bred such a lonely, lonely, sound.

These things I just kept presenting to the Father, standing on his word, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28).

It was now June and I hadn't seen the number "222" for a while. I was driving to work on June 2nd, 2004, and I was thinking on these things. As I was driving toward a main intersection I stopped to let a car in, in front of me that was coming out from a back road. It pulled ahead of me and I was absolutely delighted to see its liscense plate which read "DSK 222," (to me it sounded like "Disc 222," immediately I thought on my writing discs at home). I spoke softly, "Hhhmmm. Welcome, I haven't seen you for awhile. It's nice to see you again." A few seconds later I drove through the intersection and did the same thing at another back road, I stopped to let in another vehicle, it pulled in front of me and its liscense plate read "KLM 222." Immediately I thought of the KLM Airlines which we had first flown over to Europe on. I smiled even harder as I said, "Alright. Thank you very much!" "That's it! My writing is going to be published and we're going to Europe this summer." This is exactly how it happened.

By the end of June I had heard from the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" author. She sent me an up-date, an apology, for not getting in touch with me any sooner. They had been very, very, busy and were quite back logged. She said that my story was still being considered for publication and had reached the final stages of evaluation. School was now out for the summer.

It was about mid July. I went to check my mail and found that a credit card company that I had applied to many weeks earlier had issued me a card. I opened the letter and found that it had a five-thousand dollar limit. I handed it to my wife and had her double check it. "Does it really say five-thousand dollars?" In absolute surprise she said yes. I phoned the company right away to verify the information and to make sure that it wasn't a mistake. They said, "No. It's valid. Would you like to activate it now?" Excitedly I answered yes and hung up quickly after the process in the event that they would discover it was an error. It wasn't.

I walked into the living room and my wife was on the floor, reading. "Hey baby, do you want to go to Europe?" She responded, not too sure if I was serious, "Are you kidding? Let's not be like kids in a candy store and go all crazy with this." "O.K. But I want you to seriously consider my offer. I know how much you miss your family. If you're concerned about catching up later, let's not worry about it. Let's just live for today- today is all we have. Things will work out, they always do." Smiling ear to ear she said, "Yes." Then... "Just a minute." Then..."Yes. Sure. Why not?" "Wait a minute. Let's think on this for a few days." A few minutes later we were in our car heading over to the travel agency.

On July 27th we were on our way to Europe, flying KLM. This did not come with-out even greater news. A few days before our departure I received an email from the Chicken Soup author. My story had been selected for publication in "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul." It was released in stores in December of 2oo4. This brought tremendous joy and more completion to my life. Also, as a result of this publication I was featured in another edition called "Chicken Soup Daily Inspirations." This was released in December 2005. I've been so blessed. It doesn't stop here...it gets better.

I'll write more tomorrow. It's now 1:20 a.m. and I must be going to bed.

Two-twenty-two (222) has been a comfort and an inspiration, as great as the miracle has been...it's getting better as I look to even greater blessings.

It was an absolutely wonderful summer in Hungary. I stayed for a month, my wife for two and a half. I had to return to work in September. I work for the VSB. My Chicken Soup publication took me to Las Vegas for a week in 2005. I'll tell you about this later and how the number "222" factors into this. It has also opened doors for me to do readings and presentations through out the school district. It is opening doors for poetry readings around Vancouver. Life is absolutely wonderful.

We've just completed another trip to Europe. We had one of the most wonderful Christmas holidays we've ever experienced; we also ushered in the year 2006 Hungarian style. It was absolutely beautiful.

I celebrated my seventh year of sobriety on January 30th, 2006. These are only a few of the promises and gifts that come with sobriety. Really, when it comes right down to it, for me, it's all about Jesus and what he has done for me. I give him all the honor, power, praise, and glory.
Without him I can do nothing, I am nothing....but I can certainly do all things through Christ Jesus which strengthens me.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I pray God's blessing on you and I hope you are inspired.

Sincerely,

Godwin B.

Up Date

2005-10-17T22:14:00.000-07:00

Greetings!

I just wanted to thank all of you that have so respectfully regarded my blog and have gotten in touch with me. Thank you! This is very encouraging.

I've been out of the loop for some time now due to technical difficulties. I tried logging on many, many times but was unable to do so. Therefore, I just left it alone. I decided to give it another try; it worked!

I've so much to catch up on, especially regarding the occurrence of the number "222"; so much has happened in my life in regard to this and continues to do so. I'll up-date as soon as possible.

Again, Thank you!

Sincerely, Godwin B.

A Work In Progress

2004-04-18T17:18:00.000-07:00

Greetings! It's Sunday morning and I made a "conscious decision" not to go to church. I'm sitting here at home and I'm mulling over the significance of the church. I've been a regular attender and have attended one church in particular now for a little over a two year period. I'm right now at a bit of a stand still. I'm contemplating withdrawing, for a period of time, from church. This, not for any reason in particular, it just seems "right now" to be the right thing to do. Yes church is a place of congregating, as the bible instructs us , "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the matter of some is..." (Hebrews 10: 25-King James Version). Note, although we are encouraged to gather as "brethren" (brothers and sisters in Christ), there is no mention here of the "church building" itself. The same passage, however, in the Living Bible, a paraprased edition of the King James, reads: "Let us not neglect our church meetings, as some people do..." This verse comletes by saying, "but encourage and warn each other, especially now that the day of his coming back again is drawing near."

I'm a man of sobriety now, "By the Grace of God!", for over five years; totally drug and alcohol free- each day just keeps getting better! As I've sometimes reflected on my sobriety and how it came about, much of the work happened away from the church. The reason you might ask? In a lot of my earlier "church experiences" I left each time more broken than I was when I went in! This, not only from sermons that had me feeling greater hopelessness because "I couldn't live up to that standard"; but, also from "well intentioned ministers" who, while I acknowledge that they too are only human, pushed to shape me into a man after "their own image". Other sermons of hell, fire, and brimstone, didn't serve to heal too well the pain that I knew was inside me. I needed to experience love.

I'm not a perfect man by any means. I still say and do things I shouldn't say and do; just ask my wife, she'll tell you everything, truthfully. She, in a moment of conflict said to me, "If you're an example of what a christian is like, then I don't want to set foot in a church again." She's right! Not to excuse my behaviour, but, I hold no shame in this because I know that I'm a work in progress.

Philippians 1:6 says, "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." The living bible puts it this way: " And I am sure that God who began the good work within you will keep right on helping you grow in his grace until his task within you is finally finished on that day, when Jesus Christ returns." In light of my many short comings, defects of character... sin, I am encouraged: I am a work in progress and God's word is final! The bible does state that all have sinned and come short of the Glory of God (Romans 3:23); understand, this is not a ticket to sin, or, in your christian walk, to go on sinning. James 4:8,9 states: "Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded." Further more, as works in progress, we are called to holiness (I Peter 1: 13-16). I know that all these things that yet so heavily plaque me, just like my drug and alcohol addictions had, will too, soon be gone! As for those of us who think we're better than the next, remember Christ's words, John 8:7: "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone..." Verse 9 tells us, "And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one..." The stones all of a sudden became too heavy to lift, and, too heavy to throw! I am so thankful that I'm a work in progress. I am going to make it!

As for the church building itself, the "Temple" of God, I reflect on three bibles which were given to me. The first, The Living Bible, Paraphrased. This was given to me by my sister Sharon and her family, and dated February 17, 1982. The second, The Holy Bible, King James Version. This was given to me by my sister Addie and her family, and dated February 19, 1982. It wasn't until I moved to Vancouver that these bibles would take on a deeper meaning. At a prayer meeting, an outreach program for this particular church I was now attending, I would be blessed with a third bible; The Holy Bible, New International Version. This was given to me by my niece Zelda, and was dated February 18, 1988.

The perfect, chronological order of these dates did not occur to me immediately. One afternoon I decided to do some reading- I grabbed all three bibles, opened up the front cover of each, and was amazed to see the exact alignment of all three dates: February 17, 18, 19. The third date, the 18th, coming six years after the first two. I sat thinking this is too real to be a coincidence, knowing that the Lord does not toy with, or tease, HIs children.

The anxious, energetic, ambitious, (obnoxious?) young christian that I was, I began to get all spiritual! I thought, "It's time to fast and pray! I have to find out what this all means!" "I have to read more, pray more, go to church, fellowship! If I want my answer, I really have to watch how I live!" "HELLO!!! HAVE YOU NOT HEARD ABOUT GRACE?!" There's nothing that I could have done to ensure that I would have gotten the answer! In the wisdom of my brother Steven, most recently (pertaining to the number 222), "Be patient. God will reveal it to you in his time!"

I fasted- I just ended up stuffing my face! I prayed- and began to think how repulsed God must be by my vain repetitions! I fellowshipped, but the answer did not "pop" out of the mouth of anyone around me in this "great prophecy". I gave up! In the least...I could still read. Which is what I decided to do, this beautiful, April morning, some two years later (I'm glad that I didn't continue fasting. Over this period of time, I surely would have been a bone rack by now!)

Just as in the days of my youth, when I would awaken with my father at 5:30 in the morning, together to do morning devotions- I awoke, and felt this compelling need to read and pray. I went to the corner table stand and grabbed my living bible. Sitting next to the window, I placed it open faced on the table before me. I looked up and stared at the sun for awhile; It was such a gorgeous, April morning. I began to read, and there it was, flashing right in my face, the date: February 18. It was the completion date of the rebuilding of God's Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

King Darius had issued a decree concerning the rebuilding of the temple, (Ezra-Chpt 6). Verses 13-15 in the living bible state, "Governor Tattenai, Shethar-bozenai, and their companions complied at once with the command of King Darius. So the Jewish leaders continued in their work, and they were greatly encouraged by the preaching of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah (son of Iddo). The temple was finally finished, as had been commanded by God and decreed by Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes, the kings of Persia. The completion date was February 18 in the sixth year of the reign of King Darius.

I was in awe, inspired, and hopeful! Compassion ran through me like a hot knife through butter. Finally, the significance of February 18. Thinking on the "Temple" I was lead to the book of Corinthians.

I Corinthians 3: 16,17 states: "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth within you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are." I knew God was speaking to me about my body, his temple; my life, the brokeness of it, and the necessity for healing. As I imagined the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, I began to think about the destructions of my life; all of the heart-ache, pain, sorrow, and grief. The realities of the brokeness of my existence was set on a platter before me, I could no longer deny these.

My hurt began to surface. I sought God with greater devotion, commitment, sincerity, and desire. There were more quiet times. If He was showing me my pain, I knew that He wanted it; but first, I had to go through it. Serenity enveloped me as I thought somemore on the completion of God's Temple. Finally, a chance at "wholeness". I was overwhelmed by God and his exactness. I didn't know for sure what was going to happen, all I knew is that I was crying more. I began to experience the places of Psalms 51: 17: "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." Feeling my pain was o.k., as long as it was in God's hands.

I continued to go to church, to fellowship, and to fast. I continued to read. This time, the experience was different than before...something was happening.

Greater sadness filled me as I had no choice now but to face head on, the greater truths of my life. I was sad, hurt, lonely, angry, and broken. I felt now more than ever, the death of my mother when I was six. The severe, merciless beating I took at the hands of my father, shortly after her death. I began to feel again the loneliness of separation from family...to the terror, torture, isolation, and pain, of the residential school. So much for a six year old to endure; followed, and punctuated by, my father's death when I was ten. I began to experience again the years of abondonment, hunger, and the cold. The enescapable yearning for my mother's loving touch. Sleeping under other people's houses, or the church next door, for fear of going home only to be beaten. Stealing food out of other people's porches so that I could feed my brother and myself; taking blankets from their clothe-lines so that we could stay warm in the night. So much heartache, so much pain...too much for one soul to carry.

This, although I didn't know it back then, would be a perfect, platter of sacrifice, to a loving, kind, generous, and compassionate God. I continue in my healing journey today. Gradually, I am becoming whole and my temple is being restored.

As for all of these "things" that I'd only used to deal with by drinking and drugging, I now had to find a more profitable way. Hospital visits, suicidal tendencies, and encounters with the police were signs enough to tell me that something was terribly wrong. Self-destructive behaviours, and at times self -mutilating behaviours...were strong indications that I needed help. The pain hurt so much; the natural course seemed to be to increase the pain.

I needed a place where I could sometimes swear, and be angry, even violently, and not be judged. I needed a place that I could sometimes shout, rant, and rave, and not be condemned for my actions. I needed a place to cry, sometimes uncontrollably, and not to feel shame. The church could not do this for me. Sad to say, in those more important years, it just compounded my pain. I walked away knowing that if God cared enough to send me the dates in my bibles, and speak to me about inner-healing, he cared enough to heal me regardless of where this healing would take place. In a church, or somewhere else. He would still be God and the one doing the healing. The cuts ran deep and the healing would not occur over night. It took years to accumulate, it may take years to unravel.

As to the question of attending church, I am glad that I made my way back. Church is a good place to be. For the time being, however, I think "I'll just be still and know that He is God." To make time to work on my manuscript I started three years ago; I have a story to share, and I believe someone out there needs to hear it.

Take-care, and may the Lord richly bless.

Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton

Don't Quit Five Minutes Before Your Miracle

2004-04-12T15:05:00.000-07:00

Since I've signed on to Blogger, I've had this "greater urge" to continue to write. I now know that it's more than just blogging, it also offers me an outlet to express, in the moment, what I am feeling. Possibly a great way to overcome writer's block. It also has rejuvenated my energies to write.

It's the intervention of the divine. My experience with the number "222" and the unltimate message of it. "Don't quit five minutes before the miracle!"

For years I've thought on being a writer. I've written several poems, completed one manuscript born out of a week of fasting between my wife and myself, and now, I'm working on another manuscript which I'd begun while in Europe, December to March, 2000-2001. Since being back in America, other than writing a few more poems I haven't really given much more to the manuscript. I have submitted poems to contests (vanity publishers), and although two have been published...it seems all they keep asking for is money, money, money. In another instance, publishing seemed an absolute (by the interaction with the editors and publishers-another contest) only to have the deadline for contact come and go, and there was no contact. I've also sent querys to publishers and a response is any where from a few months to a year. Although my first response was a refusal, I was absolutely delighted, because I'd actually received a response from a publisher! Others I have not heard back from. This for the longest time, most recently up to "222", had me very discouraged.

I remember watching an Oprah show. Her topic for the day was writers, authors. Many things stuck with me from this episode but especially one thing in particular, a concluding comment that Oprah made: "One thing you will know for sure...if you're born to be a writer, nothing in the world will stop it! It will happen!" This penetrated me so, that a tear trickled down my face.

So all discouragements aside and again back to my rejuvenated, new found self, I truly believe this!

As I reflect on my life with all of its challenges, pit-falls, stumbling blocks, mountains, valleys- with an "Ultimate hand of Grace" that always seemed to intervene; I think, how can I not tell people about this? And when I have, the response has always been, "Really. You should be writing a book!"

So I've decided that I'm not just going to keep churning butter, I'm going to believe with all of my heart, my miracle is just around the corner!

Godwin H. Barton

The Meaning Of 222

2004-04-11T10:41:00.000-07:00

This is in addition to the previous post.

My wife did some research on the internet, and this is what she came up with in reference to the number 222. Numerologists call the repeating two digit numbers, master numbers (11, 22, 33, etc.). Three digit numbers are called super master numbers and some are believed to have some spiritual significance. In my direct case, the number 222.

According to numerologists, here is the meaning of the number 222:

"Our newly planted ideas are beginning to grow into reality. Keep watering and nurturing them, and soon they will push through the soil so you can see evidence of your manifestation. In other words, don't quit five minutes before the miracle. Your manifestation is soon going to be evident to you, so keep up the good work! Keep holding positive thoughts, keep affirming, and continue visualizing."

Even before this finding I was telling my wife I feel so encouraged, so alive.

I have every reason to be. The message "222" was sent to me repeatedly until I finally received it!

Godwin H. Barton

Stilling The Anger

2004-04-09T12:18:00.001-07:00

In the bible there's a phrase which states, " And these signs shall follow them that believe..." (Luke 16: 17). This is in the context of Jesus instructing his disciples to go into all the world to preach the gospel to every creature. In the same chapter, verse 20, we read: And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following.

I've had a lot of very interesting experiences in my life. Some explanable and others unexplanable. Some miraculous, others mystical. Again, I am in the middle of one of these times. It all has to do with the number 222. Here it is.

One night last week, toward the latter end of March, I awoke with my eyes just suddenly "popping open." Immediately I looked at the alarm clock and it was 2:22 a.m. I turned over and went back to sleep. Later on in the day I had to phone my wife using my cell. My cell, as most cells do, records the length of the call in minutes and seconds. The exact length of this call was two minutes and twenty-two seconds: 2:22. I thought, hmmm...interesting. The following night it happened again, my eyes popped open and it was exactly 2:22 a.m. Monday evening, April 5th, I went to the ministry which I play drums for. The service was over and I stood outside the church doors waiting for my wife to pick me up. I looked at a notice on the church door posted by another ministry that uses the same building, it read: To the congregation, our church time has been changed to 2:22 p.m, Sunday afternoon. I stood, staring, almost in a meditative state, thinking on the significance of 222. I let it go knowing some where, some how, the answer will come. Tuesday, April 6th, I went to the hospital to visit my brother. As I was walking on the hospital grounds I was thinking, if I had driven (as I had taken the city bus), where could I have parked? I noticed that every parking lot had signs that read: "Parking by hospital pass only." I looked toward a car to see what this pass looked like. Of the fifty plus cars in the parking lot, the very one I looked at had a parking pass numbered 222.

Thinking on this not as coincidence but surely as "these signs shall follow them that believe..." I spoke to my brother about it. He is seventy-five years old and also is a christian. He sat there and smiled his beautiful smile filled with wisdom and said," Be patient. God will reveal it to you in His time."

Last night I had a dream (April 9th). In my dream I was in a huge auditorium. I was sitting in the front row of velvet covered seats, burgundy in color. In the rear part of the auditorium there arose a commotion. I turned to see what was happening. There was a man; drunk, enraged, and angered. He was creating such chaos, even threats, that no one dared go near him. I knew this man but I did not want him to notice me...he was the brother of my wife. Finally, not knowing what to expect, I turned to face him. No words were spoken. He took one look at me, ran toward me, was crying and gave me the biggest embrace he could find. We held each other as I told him it's alright, everything is going to be O.K.

He then asked for his sister. I told him she was upstairs packing as she was leaving. There had been a conflict between the both of them that had her hurt and afraid...he wanted to see her before she left. Two of my sisters appeared, they asked for my wife. I said she was up stairs packing, she's getting ready to leave. Immediately they assumed that we had had another fight and somewhat frowned upon me. I just looked at them and didn't say anything.

Now upstairs, the brother still drunk but in absolute control, ran into an open room and jumped immediately into a bed. He just wanted to rest. I told him no, this is not your sister's room. Come on, let's go. A boy and a girl were sleeping in their own beds in the same room. Having awakened they ran out of the room. I told them not to be afraid, they weren't in any danger.

My wife then came to the area that we were in. I told her where her brother was, she went to get him, the dream ended.

I shared this dream with my wife. This is her interpretation.

The drunk man symbolizes your past (as he is younger)- your old, distorted self, bound by alcoholism and anger. That part of you that often wants to hurt me. In your dream your new, healthy self, finds a way to still the anger of the old self. It signifies healing. Your old self running to embrace your new self: this embrace represents acceptance, unity, and the result of that is inner peace.

As I think of this it is very much true. My inner child needs no longer to be afraid. There is no more fear, no danger...no more dark rooms to run out off. That as I continue on my healing journey I will find places of rest and a place of absolute peace. That unity I am seeking for most in my marriage, it will come.

"And these signs shall follow them that believe..." Two-twenty-two: 222...and two shall be one.

Godwin H. Barton

A Smile That Wraps Around Your Face

2004-04-05T17:35:00.001-07:00

It's such a beautiful day here. I had another awesome day at work, my wife spent the day gardening, and our cat...with the sun shining so bright and warm, lays sprawled on the couch, sleeping. He's not only our cat, he's our baby!

This is my second post. I don't know exactly where it's going to take me or that anyone will even read it (I've learned that there is no way to access public blogs through the blog home page, but it is possible through Google.) The accessing of public blogs through the blog home page, I have been informed, is something that the blog technicians are working on. So, if you're out there and you read this, feel free to send me a qucik note - using my "Comment" link - to let me know (It's to satisfy my own curiosity!)

I just want to connect, to know that my words are not just drifting aimlessly in cyberspace.

Thanks for your time. I hope that your day is just as sunny as ours, or, if you're in the dark, I hope you wake up to sunshine!

Keep Fresh The Enthusiasm

2004-04-04T16:32:00.001-07:00

Lately, I've been somewhat discouraged. I think, in my inner-being, I set myself up for this discouragement. I have too great expectations of what "I" have perceived to be my talents, gifts, and abilities, and, to where "I" think that these should take me. When a door has not opened or an answer seems so far away, it's difficult to keep fresh the enthusiasm. I do, however, in light of disappointments believe things happen for a reason. Maybe my answer did come, just not in the form that I had expected it to, or, that I've been too self-centered lately that I've missed it! Maybe it just a flat out "NO!" and this is something I have to accept. None the less, no publisher's letters arrived in the mail and the finances fell short. Still, I live and I breath and weatherwise, today holds more sunshine than it did yesteday!

My wife (Hungarian!) often shares with me many Hungarian proverbs and stories. These are always so "wisdom filled" and totally appropriate to the moment. Having said that, this is a chinese one! Two frogs were hopping down a back alley. They came across an open window going into someone's basement. Out of curiousity, they jumped into the open window only to land in a bucket of cream. Realizing now that they were both in serious trouble and could not reach the edge of the bucket to climb free, they had no choice but to swim. They continued to swim round and round as they tried to think of how they could get out of the bucket. One of the frogs began to tire, it was too much for him to continue swimming. The frog lost hope, gave up, and perished. The other frog just kept on swimming. He soon realized something was happening to the cream as he swam. The cream was getting thicker. He swam harder, faster. The cream thickened some more. He continued this until the cream had gotten so thick that he was able to step on the chunks that had formed and was able to leap to freedom. The frog had churned the cream to butter!

In the words of my wife. It may seem like you're just going in circles but what you're actually doing is churning butter. Something has to give some where and you will get your answer!