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

1. Macro
Micro
cosm
Macro
Microcosm
L i terary and Ar t Journal
Online preview

2. MacroMicroCosm
Primordial Edition, 2014
Chief Editor: Kyle Gonchar
Layout: Melissa Ratajczak Ratel
Cover Photography: Eleanor Bennett
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN: 978-0-9921188-4-6
Copyright © Vraeyda Multimedia Inc 2014
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or
transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise)
without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the below publishers.
literary@vraeydamedia.ca | www.vraeydamedia.ca
VraeydaMedia Inc
9131 207B Street
Langley, BC V1M2P5 Printed in Canada

3. Poetry
Prose
This is a free trial copy, it is not complete.
For full version, please subscribe/purchase
www.vraeydamedia.ca/store
6 Change
13 Poetry Has Eyes As the Sun
63 Say No To Goodbye
Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
21 ARCHIVE ONE
ROBIN WYATT DUNN
40 GENTLE RAGE
SAPHA BURNELL
48 WE BELONG TO THE PLACE WE COME FROM; THE SUN
SAMUEL ALDER
61 THE IRON-COVERED EARTH
MARLENA BONTAS
4 THE BEAUTY OF PRIDE
22 ON MICROCOSM
62 ON MACROCOSM
MELISSA RATAJCZAK RATEL
7 SMILING
14 THE GIANT OF AMMONITE FALLS
MATTHEW WILLIAM ABRAM FAST
11 RUST
SAPHA BURNELL
24 PENELOPE AURORA AND THE ENCHANTED MAP OF PARMA
C.L. SHOEMAKER
44 BANKRUPT! WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT LIFE
KATHARINE FAHLMANN
50 CAN YOU HEAR THE ANGELS SING?: FORGIVENESS
SETH AYETTEY
ART
9 HER ARCHETYPE
ZADA HEBERT
42 SEED OF LIFE
JANET MYER
1 & 64 PHOTOGRAPHY
ELEANOR BENETT

5. This free trial is incomplete. For full
version, please purchase/subscribe.

6. CHANGE

7. SMILING

11. The sun winks an eye
In burning flames
And fights the moon
To drift from night's scene
So it could frown on its naught of day
And time, of the people's impunity
Before it gets judged
By the natural under its watch
The sun is an eye
A noble soul of the world
And opines,
War is not healthy,
Not in my season!
Debts are cancers
To the well being of a country
And would not eat in my wake.
I,
the sun
will not stare
whilst you hang our democracy
bury leaders as paupers
enslave their strength
for I ask,
Where thou reside O ye citizens?
I,
the bronzing sun
will scorch the ills
of man, and sum the concoctions
to the moon, and activate its flare
'till I recover my bake at dawn
I,
the just sun
befriends the light at the end of the tunnel
and persuade the shadows mast
to fade into the dead,
And trot the sins of the souring heart to reaffirm their
fates to the vows
of love and peace
that were marred by you and I.
I
will give you hope
across the crowded road
'till you sneeze your noise to gold

13. somehow, as though there was this incredible urge
to burst forth.
Alexander turned and started making his way
down the river towards the falls. He stopped at the
edge of them; watching the water tumble off,
wondering if he, like a droplet of water, should take
hold of inspiration and leap.
Before making his way back down the steep
trail, Alexander turned to look back up the river.
Something caught his eye. There, for a brief
moment, Alexander swore he saw a faint flicker of
movement. A glimpse of a woman in the dust. A
hint of Inspiration.
ARchivE OnE
RobinWyatt Dunn
I sing the body electric,
My body, and your body,
The rutting Rubenesque grove of civilization,
Fondling all your bootsoles,
Whimpering in its glee thick madness,
The Internet Wayback and the piles of fruit--
Bodleian and Sumer
The book and the chap,
The scribble in the dump,
The true number of the beast,
And the hummed melody of song whispered by a librarian on her way to lunch--
The NSA is alien and it records us and we are alien and we record the NSA,
And all of us electric body thrumming to the grief stricken omnibus edition of life:

14. the Pro’s and Con’s.
Even without scientific data of the physical responses to
biological affection, one is hard pressed to find another
human being who feels no love, or has had no love felt in
them. We don’t need an understanding of neurochemistry
to see the way Margaret holds Joseph’s eyes, or the way
Joseph makes Margaret smile and laugh when nobody
could do it. We say, “Those two, it’s love.” We could watch
as Margaret and Joseph meld their respective social groups
and in the shift of dynamics watch a new social group bond,
perhaps plus and minus a few who lost interest or found
another group in the shift.
If I put on a lab coat and set up a powerpoint in a lecture
hall and presented my thesis on “Rogue Planets Margaret
and Joseph: Star-Crossed Planetary Bodies whose Mutual
Gravity broke from their Solar Orbits” and through a series
of astrophysical mathematics and slides from the Hubble
Telescope explained how the planetary body known
colloquially as Joseph drifted close to Margaret, and in the
drift ended up being caught in mutual gravity & momentum,
and thus Margaret flung out of her orbit taking Joseph with
her, and in Margaret’s absence from her solar system
created a chaotic entanglement of void and pressure until
the situation finally equalized in a new configuration, I might
lose a significant amount of the crowd.
How many specialists or interested parties are there in the
physics of rogue planets flinging from their solar orbits and
creating a situation worthy of the best Chaos Theorists in
the Northern Hemisphere?
How many specialists or interested parties would listen to a
story about two people whose coming together created
tensions and emotional balms to the other bodies around
them?
Some things were meant to be easier to understand. To
innerstand, deep inside ourselves. It is to the eternal credit
of the human race that we are able to meet interpretations
of the larger scale in smaller form and come to know and
communicate with them on a daily basis.
The cosmos is within our realm of interpretation, for we are
within our own realm of interpretation.
Hypothesis:
This free trial is incomplete. For Full Version,
Please purchase/subscribe.
microcosm = macrocosm
microcosm = (little) (world)
microcosm = (smaller representation) (world = cosmos)
microcosm = the key to the cosmos
Greek over the head and yanked it ‘fair and
square’. Little world.
The microcosm is important because it
gives us a view of the universe we can
inspect and comprehend. We might not all
be able to use Keppler’s Laws of Planetary
Motion, or extrapolate how many Quarks
live in a nearby star, but we can come to
understand how two bodies in motion, say,
Margaret and Joseph, continue in their
linear pursuit toward coupledom. Falling in
love is as much a vector, a line of motion,
as it is an intent and series of chemical
triggers in the brain.
Most would agree that love in all its
unfathomable depths is more than:
love = instinct (genetic immortality + self
preservation) + neurochemicals (Dopamine
[seeking & finding] + Oxytocin [trust] +
Serotonin [Respect & Dominance]) +
hormones (pheromones + adrenaline +
endorphins)
A heart has intelligence. It nurtures. We
have all had a time where something didn’t
feel right in our hearts. Or it felt right in the
heart, but not the head. ‘Going with our
gut’ can be just as indefatigable as listing

15. This is the story of a princess who had a most
unexpected adventure. Now, before you say, "I have read
many stories about princesses who have adventures. In fact,
I just read a story about a princess last week. The bookstore
has been flooded with stories of princesses and there is a
library in Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany on the top floor of
an old stone castle built on the tippy top of a very skinny
mountain that contains exactly six thousand, four hundred
and forty two stories about princesses."
Before you begin with these royal concerns, the author
must make one small observation (well, technically, two). I
know of the library in Germany. I met the curator on a train
ride from London to Paris during some terrible winter
weather. We became stuck on track seven for over three
hours, waiting for a snowplough and some friendly locals to
dig us out. It is surprising how well you can get to know
another person when you are trapped in the same train car!
During our forced confinement, I learned that Hans
Bendelsnap, curator of the Princess Library, hated camels,
had a pet iguana named Goustave, and had once
accidentally dyed his hair pink. But that is an entirely
different story. What is important to our tale is that Mr.
Bendelsnap had never heard a princess story quite like this
one. Out of all the tales in his library – and he had read each
one thirty-seven times – there was not one tale like this one.
As I said, it was an unexpected adventure.
Most stories begin with “Once Upon A Time,” but such
an opening does not fit this tale, as the author is well aware
of when the adventure happened. She has been sworn to
absolute secrecy to not reveal the exact location or the
precise moment, but she may reveal just a bit to you.
Our adventure occurred during the reign of King Ezekiel
the Great, ruler of all Parma at the Eastern Sea. You may
have studied your history in school and wish now to inform
me that there is no King Ezekiel in your textbook, and you
would be right. There is no Ezekiel because you are not
supposed to know about the land of Parma or the world of
the neighbouring elves. If you were to wake up in the early
morning to watch a beautiful sunrise, and squint as much as
you could towards that pink colour in the sky, you might be

16. able to make out the mountains of Parma and the
Eastern Sea. You see, Parma is a kingdom made
visible by belief. Many children are quite familiar
with Parma and can travel there if they concentrate
hard enough (which is to say if they are left alone
and not bothered by adults).
However, as children grow up, they seem to
think that Parma must be only in their imagination.
They say to themselves, “Centaurs cannot exist, for
I have never seen one in real life. A centaur has
never been weighed or measured. There are no
pictures of centaurs in the encyclopedia and,
therefore, centaurs cannot be real.” And they fail to
remember that when they were four, they met a
centaur in their backyard. And by the time they
have finished school, they know that centaurs
cannot exist because some very misguided authors
have told them so in large books with hundreds of
pages. At this point, the children are adults and
think themselves quiet clever because they believe
that rules, scales, and photographs can prove the
existence of things. But if these clever adults would
take a moment to speak with some well-informed
children, they might learn that they have been
grossly misguided. It is upon this point that I
gravely fear for our education system. That is
another topic for another time.
Where were we? Ah, yes! Parma. If it has been
quite some time since you last visited, let the
author refresh your memory: King Ezekiel lived in a
beautiful palace made of glass, polished precious
stones, and pink diamonds. He ruled from the
throne room overlooking the Eastern Sea with the
Queen by his side. Sometimes, if you were lucky,
you could see through the open balcony into the
throne room from the nearby hills. The King and
Queen had only one daughter, Princess Penelope,
who was seven-and-a-quarter years old, but always
insisted she was “nearly eight.” Penelope lived in
the west tower with her nurse and a pet squirrel.
She also had two centaur guards (I told you they
were real!) who escorted her to all royal events.
Princess Penelope had been educated in all the
important activities required of a princess. This
included turtle herding (the turtle market was ever-growing
in Parma), horseback riding, acrobatics,
archery, and singing. While Penelope excelled in
most of her studies, she failed to master turtle
herding. It was in part due to the fact that the
turtles never wanted to go where she instructed
them, and they often chose to hide in the royal
pond. While Penelope was vigilant in searching for
the turtles, her instructors did not appreciate that
she often did so by swimming through the pond in
her royal dress. In the end, Penelope managed to
attain a passing grade by December as a result of
the frozen pond. She borrowed the maid’s broom
and slid the turtles across the ice into the required
star formation. On account of these unique
methods, her instructors were forced to pass her
for she had completed the assigned task in under
ten minutes. I believe the instructors also felt sorry
for the turtles who were turning blue from the cold,
and therefore, a pass was hastily agreed upon.
While Penelope enjoyed her studies, she often
found them confusing. What exactly was a princess
to do with acrobatic skills? She tried entering her
birthday gala with a double back flip, handstand,
and a number of cartwheels, but this resulted in her
landing in the birthday punch bowl. Her technique
was perfect, though the guests failed to appreciate
her talent when they were drenched in cranberry
juice. She was the first to admit her accuracy
needed some improvement.
In February, Penelope tried delivering Valentines
to her favourite servants using her archery skills, but
this plan did not go as expected. Penelope failed
to consider that her correspondents would be
moving targets, and she accidentally pinned a few
servants to the castle walls. Soon the head guard
complained to the King that his favourite hat had
arrow-holes and Penelope was forced to retire her
bow for a full month.
While Penelope was an excellent horse rider, her
centaur guards did not appreciate being ridden,
and her own horse often left the castle stables to
explore green pastures. It certainly wasn’t
Penelope’s fault if she showed up for her riding
lessons but her horse did not.
This left only her singing. Penelope was a gifted
singer. She had perfect pitch, meaning she could
sing any note you asked on cue without an
instrument. She could even sing an entire song.
However, her gift of perfect pitch also included the
gift of perfect aim. You haven’t heard of perfect
aim? Well perfect aim allows someone to throw his
or her voice in a certain direction, like a baseball
and strike any object. It is very helpful in battle, but
can be disastrous if you have a singing argument
with your little brother. For Princess Penelope, it
meant that she couldn’t sing at anyone or her voice
would knock them off their feet, pick them up, and
throw them out the door. The King and Queen
discovered Penelope’s gift during her third

17. birthday when she joined in the chorus of Happy
Birthday and threw three guests into the royal
pond. The party became a pool party, and I believe
the centaurs brought out steel drums for musical
ambiance. No one was hurt, but Penelope was
encouraged to limit singing to safe environments.
Where is the adventure, you ask? Well, just hold
on. It is coming. On a particular day, the 13th of
Minch, in the year of the rising sun, Penelope had
finished all her assigned homework, accidentally
sung a cook out a window, and collected all her
turtles. Thus, her teachers, desperate to find
something for her to do handed her a copy of Elfin
History Through The Enchanted Ages. While
history is a wonderful topic (the author would like
to state that she has nothing against individuals
who lived in the past and are now dead or,
perhaps, may still be alive), this particular book
posed problems (the author would also like to state
that she has nothing against elf history). If you
actually know your Elfin history, you are aware of
the excitement and activity that occurs in the Elfin
lands. There are wand wars, battles for magical
thrones, spell creations, animal-elf treaties, and
many celebrations. Sadly for Penelope, the book
which she was given was written in the Elfin
language and her teachers had failed to consider
that Penelope had never learned ancient Elfin.
Thus, she was left in her tower with a book that
looked to be filled with squiggles. They were
beautiful squiggles, but they were nonsense to her.
Yet Penelope was a determined student.
Despite the squiggles, she flipped through every
single page in Elfin History Through The Enchanted
Ages. It was this determination that started her on
her adventure, for tucked inside the book at
around page six hundred and thirty one, Penelope
found an old, folded paper. She opened it to
reveal a map of Parma. This map was an
enchanted, ancient drawing with a red line that
went straight from her western tower through the
garden, over the castle wall, and out into a world
that Penelope had never seen. Penelope stared at
the scarlet line and wondered why it was glowing.
The only maps she had studied were the war
maps in her father’s battle room, and they only
included the castle, the green pastures, and the
Eastern Sea. Penelope had never considered the
fact that there were other lands. Geography was
not included in her lessons, and now she looked
upon it as a serious defect in her educational
upbringing. On this map there were strange places
with names like “Lake Look Under”, “the Forest of
Misery” and “Hilltop Meadow”. Penelope did not
think it odd that she could read the map, for she
knew from the sparkling red line that the paper was
enchanted. However, it did bother her that her own
name appeared near the bottom of the page in
gold lettering. The map read:
To Princess Penelope, the Heir Apparent.
Penelope did not know what “heir apparent”
meant, but it sounded like it had something to do
with her parents, and that was always important.
What should I do now?” she asked herself. The
map didn’t answer back, even if it was enchanted.
Nothing appeared on the map. No ghostly voice
answered her question, but the red sparkly line
glowed stronger and stronger until it looked as
though it would burst into flames. Penelope ran to
her bedside table and doused the map with a glass
of water, just in case the strange paper did decide
to erupt. Nothing happened. The water rolled off
the map and the red line continued to glow.
Maybe I should follow it?”
At this thought, Penelope decided that she
should prepare for such a journey. She did not
know how long it would take her to reach her final
location, but she hoped to be back in time for
dinner. If she was travelling, she would need a coat,
her bow and arrow, and her pink shoes. Penelope
also decided that it was better if her teachers
thought she was still in her room enjoying Elfin
History Through The Enchanted Ages.
The best way to leave her tower would be by
acrobatic methods with her bow and arrow. After
saying farewell to her squirrel, Penelope loosed an
arrow, a rope tied to the end, out her tower
window. The arrow secured itself in the
surrounding rampart of the castle wall and, after
knotting the other end of the rope to her bedpost,
Penelope tightrope-walked her way down to the
perimeter wall. She was greatly relieved that she
could finally put her balancing lessons to good use.
Standing on the castle wall, Penelope jumped
down to the other side. Landing on the grass, she
was surprised at how high the wall looked. The
castle suddenly seemed extremely tall and large.
Taking out her map, Penelope traced the red line
with her finger to her first destination: Lake Look
Under. Determining the correct direction, Penelope
set out on the dirt path that aligned with her map.
The first five minutes of Penelope’s adventure
were exciting, for she had never been outside the
castle walls. The grass looked different – a bright

18. This free trial is incomplete. For the Full Version, please purchase/subscribe.
www.vraeydamedia.ca/store macromicrocosm.tumblr.com
swimming skills to use and made for the surface
but when she reached it she hit the clear blue
barrier. The pixies were laughing. Their lips curled
back into grins, their sharp teeth flashed, and their
horrid giggles rang out as they watched her
struggle. Penelope panicked. She would drown.
The mermaid swam up beside her and pushed
against the barrier. Penelope banged her fist
against the solid water.
"It is a spell. No one can break it.” The mermaid
spoke, her voice clear under the water.
Penelope clutched at her throat. She needed air.
Air? Her voice. Her gift of throwing. Could it
possibly break the barrier? With the last ounce of
strength and air left Penelope sang out a phrase
“Break, and let me breathe.” Her voice
reverberated through the water, building, throwing
the mermaid down into the depths of the lake, and
with a final thrust, shattering the lake’s barrier into
a thousand tiny white pieces. The shards flew into
the sky and then disappeared.
Penelope broke through the water and gasped
for air. The pixies stopped laughing, let out a
collective gasp, and flew away in fear. Penelope
clutched at the shore, exhausted and breathless.
She was about to climb out onto the grass when a
voice stopped her.
How did you break the curse?”
It was the mermaid. Her head bobbed above
the water and her voice sounded like the rushing of
wind. “I have not felt the sun or seen the sky for
hundreds of years.”
"I sang. I have a gift,” Penelope explained.
“I am Arawell, daughter of the last Sea King. I
was trapped here by a powerful Mandril lord, a
member of the first magic council of kingdoms.
Thank you for freeing me. I may at last return to my
people and my father.” Penelope had to catch her
breath and could merely nod in response as she
gasped and pushed wet hair out of her face.
"I am sorry. I forget humans breathe air. Are you
alright?”
“For now, but I’m all wet and I haven’t brought a
change of clothes.”
“Oh, that is easily solved. Take some starlight
or sunbeam flowers from those bushes. They will
dry you in mere moments. And please, take this
necklace,” Arawell requested as she held out a
shell. “It is a Tallis Conch Heart. It will protect you
from harm on land or on water. It is the least I can
do, now that you have released me.”
Penelope gladly accepted the mermaid’s gift
and her advice. After bidding her farewell, she
went in search of sunbeam flowers. While Penelope
had seen sunbeams before, it took her a long time
to locate any in the meadow. Perhaps Arawell’s
eyes were stronger. A mermaid, after all, has to see
underwater in the dark depths of the ocean.
Poor Penelope tromped all across the nearby
hillside, around the lake, and even up to the edge
of the forest in search of sunbeam flowers. Even
though she walked in the sunlight, her clothes were
still soaking wet and she was chilled to the bone.
She wanted to turn around and go home to a warm
fire, hot chocolate, cookies, and her mother. But
something urged her to continue her search.
At the very edge of the hills, right where the
forest began Penelope finally found what she
needed: a small patch of bright yellow flowers.
Penelope was about to pick them when a deep
voice stopped her.
"What do you think you are doing, little one?”
Penelope jumped and turned to see a large
black Clydesdale standing among the trees. He
was bigger than any horse she had ever seen in her
father’s stables. He was certainly larger than her
own horse, and he seemed to be a creature of
importance. His eyes were a bright blue, like two
shining crystals, and his hooves gleamed black
among the forest moss.
I was trying to become dry,” Penelope
answered, her teeth chattering as she spoke.
“And how did you become wet?”
“I was pushed into a pond by some murderous
pixies,” Penelope snapped. She was beginning to
become cross. Being cold, wet and tired will do
that to a princess. It is difficult to remember your
manners and social graces when you are dripping
wet and shivering.
“So that was you?”
“What was?”
“That earth shattering cry that disturbed all of
the Enchanted Forest.”
“I was trapped. I was going to die and I saved a
mermaid,” Penelope protested.
“And what about the rest of us?”
“Pardon?”
The horse sighed and appeared to be making a
decision of some importance. Finally, he spoke.
“My name is Reginald. If you want to become dry
follow me. There is a cottage one mile out. Bring
the sunbeams. Silly merfolk think they know earth
matters. You’ll need to boil them first or you will
never be dry.”

20. “Yes, Mother.”
Astride her palomino, Penelope’s mother leaned
forward in a beautiful red dress and beamed down
upon her daughter. “Then I am very proud of you
my dear.”
“Proud?” The King gasped. “But Geraldine, we
cannot encourage disobedience and lack of
responsibility. Penelope knows not to leave the
castle grounds without informing us. She must
always tell us where she is going and take a royal
centaur—”
“Dear,” the Queen insisted with a warm smile,
“we are not encouraging disobedience, but rather
encouraging bravery, loyalty and self-sacrifice: all
traits of a good king or queen. I think our Penelope
is smart enough to know not to do this again. I
believe she will make an excellent and wise queen
one day.” King Ezekiel simply stared in shock at
what he was hearing.
“I will second that blessed fortune, and hereby
swear the assistance and protection of the Elves
from the North if Parma is ever in need of an
alliance in war,” the Elf King spoke from where he
had silently observed his men and the
conversations..
“I dare say the Sea King will offer his promise of
protection. I will speak for my herd, and for myself,
when I promise the Princess eternal protection,
should she need it,” Reginald offered with a bow.
After these generous promises, the young
prince stepped forward and bowed to Penelope.
His clothing had returned to its original pristine
condition before the curse, and he looked as a
prince should look. “I, too, should offer my thanks
to you, Penelope for coming to help me when no
one else would. To thank you for your bravery and
loyalty, even when I was cruel, I offer you this
artifact that was in our family for years. I hope it will
bring you what you seek.” The prince reached into
his jacket pocket and produced a roll of paper.
Curious, Penelope took the scroll and opened it.
“Oh, look Reginald,” she cried. “Another map.”
The King and Queen looked at each other with
great concern. “Oh dear,” they said.
Oh goody!” cried Penelope. END
GENTLE RAGE
“I scar easy, watch the scissors.”
Quiet eyes,
Electric blue
Distills you
Instills you
It fills you with espers
Aspirations with your fears.
Breathe deep.
Devils don't stand
for you...
You are God's Boy.
Fighting
Fighter with swollen knuckles.
SAPHA BURNELL
@USURPERKINGS

21. JANET MYERS began to paint DNA
codes, spirals of life and patterns
of fractal dimensions. Honey combs
within the waters. Beings emerged
from the forest within the trees,
and Seed of Life was born. Janet
Myers is a UK-based visual artist.

22. BANKRUPT! WHAT I LEARNED
ABOUT LIFE
“Katharine,” my husband said, a catch in
his voice. Whatever Dwayne was about to say,
intuition told me that I wasn’t going to like it.
“I’m listening,” I answered, leaving the
floor his. “I need you to come to the bank with
me and sign some forms.” Mostly my husband
was a strong and proud man. At that moment
he seemed more lost.
“Okay,” I agreed, not bothering to ask
what kind of forms. Banks lent people money;
we obviously needed a quick cash influx.
“What time?” I asked, sensing his deep
sadness and not mentioning the lone tear
edging his clouded brown eyes. Protective
instincts kicking in, I momentarily considered
closing the distance between us and hugging
him. But I knew my husband well enough to
know what he needed at the moment was
space.
“Ten, tomorrow morning,” he supplied,
lowering his head as he turned and exited the
room.
“Your debt-to-asset ratio has greatly
affected your credit rating,” the loans officer
said, his expression sober as his shoulders
squared off with Dwayne. “Quite frankly, we
aren’t confident that you’d be able to fulfill
your payment obligations.” We wouldn’t be
able to fulfill our payment obligations? Did I
hear him correctly? Nervously reaching for the
papers I studied our bleak financial picture.
“There must be some mistake,” I said
aloud, inwardly realizing that there wasn’t. My
husband hadn’t revealed all the facts and
figures before our appointment; nevertheless, I
knew our financial situation wasn’t ideal.
Turning to facing me, the loans officer said,
KATHARINE FAHLMAN
“There’s no mistake. I completed your financial
profile myself. It’s accurate.”
Deafened by the hysterical trample of inner
screams, I’m not certain if either the loans
officer or my husband responded. Like a
thousand horses stampeding, hoofbeat after
hoofbeat, clatter pounded against my temples
as the room teetered and my face flushed red
hot.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, standing and
heading for the office door. Things like this
happened to other people, not to us.
Somehow having found my way to the
ladies room, I gaped in the mirror. The sweat-speckled
crimson ‘me’ looking back seemed
foreign and odd. My legs too weak to support
the shock of my mangled new reality, I braced
against the sink before splashing cold water on
my face. I still couldn’t ground, seemingly
floating out of my physical body and into a
weightless dimension. Taking deep breaths
helped to somewhat reconnect my mind and
body. Counting to ten slightly calmed my
anger, as my overwhelmed mind frantically
sought to assign blame elsewhere…anywhere.
Our financial safety was gone. Sad,
hollowed and numb I dragged my
sandbagged feet down the hall and back into
the reality room. A quick glance at my
husband told me that while I was absent, his
conversation with the loan’s officer had been
strained. Locking eyes with Dwayne, my heart
flipped upside down, but landed safely. There
had to be a way out of this mess.
On the way home from the bank that day, I
recalled how many weeks earlier, Dwayne and
I had talked to a debt management consultant,

23. acting as a liaison and offering suggestions;
reducing resistance and avoiding unnecessary
arguments with someone you love.
Should you be faced with bankruptcy, the
first step I recommend is taking an inventory of
your assets and resources. Add up what you do
have, not what you owe or don’t have. You will
be surprised at your tally. We still had our jobs
and were allowed to keep some assets. Our
debts were not completely wiped out. We still
had to pay a predetermined ‘outstanding debt
balance’ which we’d earlier negotiated with the
help of our trustee. Thanks to an old boss, who
helped rather than judged, Dwayne worked a
second job and that money went toward
reducing our residual debt balance.
FYI: Reestablishing your après bankruptcy
credit rating is less complicated than you might
think. Dwayne’s longtime bank lending officer
advised and approved a Registered Retirement
Savings Plan loan for Dwayne.
Thanks to this earth angel, my husband’s
credit rating began an immediate upward
swing. While waiting to again become a good
financial risk, prepaid credit cards, cell phone
plans, and car purchases are still attainable.
Dwayne and I learned about bankruptcy
the hard way—we couldn’t maintain our debt
load. Don’t let that become you. Within the
world of finance there are many escape
hatches and solutions for ordinary folk. Our
government is acutely aware that thanks to the
constant onslaught of media fueled
consumerism and credit card companies willing
to fulfill our lifestyle dreams via unsecured
debt, personal bankruptcies continue to rise.
To this end, legislation is in place to ensure
citizens caught within the buy-buy-buy frenzy,
or who find themselves in an unforeseeable
monetary bind, have a chance to recover
financially and start over again. But long before
you get to where you need to be bailed out,
take personal financial control. One safeguard
we now use is dealing in cash, rather than bank
and credit cards. Counting out what you pay
for groceries, clothes and entertainment keeps
you aware that your hard-earned dollars are
slipping away. When declaring bankruptcy, be
mindful that your self-respect and confidence
are at risk of plummeting out of control.
Should anyone close to you measure your
value as being the sum total of your assets and
bank balance, take a deep-hearted look at
whether to continue with that particular
relationship. Those who empathize and
support you in spite of your financial troubles
are worthy of your continued friendship. Those
who don’t, obviously need to re-evaluate their
priorities. No one enters bankruptcy easily. It’s
an anxious, guilt-ridden ordeal, during which
the financially stressed person continually
berates him or herself. Should bankruptcy
become the unfortunate fate of someone you
know, regardless of anything you might think
about their financial irresponsibility, trust me,
your loved one is doing a much more thorough
job at deprecating themselves than you ever
could. My advice regarding any time you find
yourself considering saying something hurtful
to someone, stop and think—it only takes a
second to wound a heart that may take a
lifetime to heal.
The most valuable asset Dwayne and I
saved was our marriage. Take heart and feel
the hope, there is life after bankruptcy. What
your life will look like will be up to you. Count
your blessings and be thankful for your truly
precious assets—health, love, family, and
friends—they will be instrumental in helping
you through. The chain of positive events that
has occurred since I turned my earthly destiny
over to God continues to amaze and inspire
me. Every morning, I wake up and read a sign
that I posted on my wall: “Good morning, this
is God speaking. Today I will be handling all
your problems, so just relax because I don’t
need your help. Thank you for your trust and
understanding. Our spiritual guides are always
with us. Ask your higher-power for guidance
and then watch carefully and listen openly. I
think you will be pleasantly surprised by the
people and answers that come to you.
The Heartmind Wisdom Anthology
www.heartmindwisdom.com

24. we belong to the place
we come from; the sun
Livingintheheart,
wediscoverthesacredart,
ofrowingourboatdownthestream,
whereourshareddreamsburstattheseams,
Samuel Alder
with gratitude and grace, we put theleft and right oar and water splashes our face, asthe truth twinkles because of the sun we let go and are at one, givinggrace its rightful place, not a single distraction ameliorates our face
Claritysetsonourbrow,wearerememberingandlearningexactlyhow,
tomanifestwhatisbestsothatthisearthcanonceagainbeblessed:
wewon’trunawayfromthismomentbutliveinthenow.
Ripplesandreflectionsareonthewater,wegiveourallandsometimesfall;
in,butitdoesn’tendthenitjustbegins,goosebumpsarewhatwefeel,
whenwearenotskimmingbutswimminginthewatersoflove,acrystalclearfield,
theninspirationswoopsdownlikecloudsfromabove,
remindingusofanytruthorlovewehavelost:
Wediscoverthingsbelowthesurface,
feelingwhatisreal,thedeepnolongerconceals;
somethingbecomesimmediatelyclear,thesunlivesinus,trust!
Aboveandbelowareone.
andwe’realljoininginthefun,we’reinitforthelongrun!
Toshinelikethesunisourdestiny,todiscoverthebestinyouandme,
learntoharnessthe4elements;Earth,Wind,Water,Fireintherightorderwilltakeusbeyondanyborders;alwayson,
higher,lower,higher,oursoulburns,itisfire,inner,outer,wholeworldsitinspires.
Nooneknowshowitwasallmade,
that’swhatmakesthisgamefun,it’snotjustacharade
It’sdifficulttotellheadfromtoe,whenwearealwaysonthego,
Thatiswhywemustlearntogowiththeflow,andjustknowthemusicinwhichourownsoulisimmersed,thesong
whichfromourheartandlungslongstoburst,

25. Giveitspacegiveittime,itisadivinevine,onedoesnotpickgrapesbeforetheyareripe,
that’salmostacrime.
Discoverthedirectionleadingawayfromsenselessslaughter,motherearth,sky’sdaughter,haveaplan:torestoreall
ofthislandandendwhatnatureabhorsnamelywars,whichareendlesslyboringchores:everybrokenbonemustbe
healed,violencehasnoyield…afamilywillmissitsmembers,justlikeatree,feelsallofitsroots,theyaretender.
Wearestridingalongthewayofpeace,notslaves,butbraveones,soletusmasterthisbeast:theimpulsesofthe
body;nolongergivingourselvesovertofeelingswhichcanonlybedescribedasshoddy.Rememberingthedignity
ofbeinghumanandwhatitmeanstosaytruthfully„GodLovesMe“.
Weknowthepaceandtherhythm,we’resmilingbecauseit’salreadygiven!Heavenhasacode,andofitthereisa
node,itpulsatesinourchest,ifwelistenwecanknowitandbeblessed
it’snotmatterORmindit’sboth,solet’sdowhatwelovethemost,knowthattheanswersareinourhearts,there’sa
placeforusontheark,aplacetofreeourdivinespark,aplacewherewecanalwaysrestart,
whereagemeetsyouth,lovedoesn’tseemodd,
butyouknowthetruthofgod:godislove,
andthat’swhynooneisoutofplace,thatiscertainandtrue,youreallydon’t
needtofeelblue,becausewhiletheycallthisthehumanrace,
knowthathere,thereisoverflowinggrace.
That’swhatmakesiteasytokeepthepace!
SoLet’salljoinintheheavenlymusic,
whichthesunbydaringtoshineallnightlong,
keepsplanetsmovingon,whilstsingingitswonderfulsong,
TheSoulisthegoalofthissong,andwhenyoulistentoityoucandonowrong,
Becauseitiseverythinglighttouches,andlet’syouknow:youtrulydobelong.
Vraeyda Literary is
OPEN to submissions.
Visit vraeydamedia.ca today to feature your
fiction, non-fiction, poetry, art graphic
novel in future issues of MacroMicroCosm
Literary Art journal.
Full Length Manuscripts Accepted.

26. Chapter 12 Forgiveness

27. hundred days by radical Hutus out of racial
hate, political rivalry and hunger for power.
What this nation needs most now to be able to
forge ahead in development as one people
with one destiny and to break the cycle of tribal
hate is forgiveness. One of the finest acts of
forgiveness towards this end in Rwanda has
been captured in the book, “Left to Tell” by
Immaculee Ilibagiza. The subtitle to the book is
“Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan
holocaust”. Immaculee’s family fell prey to the
atrocious murderous acts of their neighbours.
Blood stains remained deep in the soul. Yet,
Immaculee discovered the most important part
of the holocaust: evidence of the presence of
God in the midst of death and decay.
Her Tutsi father had been instrumental in
educating children both Tutsi and Hutu alike. A
God-fearing Hutu priest had hidden her and
others away from blood-thirsty members of his
tribe. When the holocaust ended, some of the
perpetrators were arrested. Among them was
the person who killed her family. When she was
asked if she wanted to meet the leader of the
gang that killed her mother and her bother
Damascene, she replied, “Yes, I do”.
The assailant Felicien, was sobbing before
her in shame. Immaculee reached out for his
hand and, to the surprise of all, said, “I forgive
you”. When Immaculee was asked why she did
not question Felicien or spit on him but rather
forgave him, she answered, “Forgiveness is all I
have to offer”.
The evidence that Immaculee had truly had
an encounter with God manifested in her
attitude towards the person who tormented
and butchered her family and who had also
hunted her with murderous intent. Need I say
more! What a beautiful story. What an action of
true love by one who, together with her family,
had suffered treachery at the hands of people
they had loved and cared for but who hated
them sorely in return. Like Immaculee, all I have
to offer those that treated me and my family
cruelly is the best in me: forgiveness and love.
ThE IRon-CovErEd Earth
MaRlena Bontas
I don’t know any prayer
To wake up the dead
from underneath the shallow ground
Sing with me the song of rain
To help those lives rise again
To new beginnings.
Darling, say you’re not my father
And that you’ll not make me burry you
In the backyard among flowers and plum trees
That bloom in the spring.
Daddy, you are not my lover
But you have bit my vein for a decade or so,
Should I pray with you for my sake?
Daddy, don’t turn me into you,
I am a princess and you are a dog that carries my
crown
Release me from the dream of life that you hid
Under the mountain of your pain.
I am not a fascist lover
I am not a bag full of babies that can’t stop crying
If you give me God on a plate
I’ll suck the faith out of your bones
Until you’re done.
Daddy, I am not your mother
Or the healer of you iron heart
Leave the garden of your dreams to dry out
And send me a flower
So I know you care.
Father, I wanted you
I wondered who you are for so long
There’s no hammer strong enough
To break your iron shell.

28. OOnnMmaacCRorocCoossmm
Melissa Ratajczak Ratel
A girl walks up to a man, “I forgive you”.
A frame of reference is needed to make sense
of any given action or effect. Take away one of the
axises which makes up the modern human
experience, and the walls crumble down into paper
thin line segments dashed across a horizontal plain.
Like the Sphere coming to visit in Flatland, all the
magnificence of depth is squelched for a simpler
path. How can it be the Square’s fault to doubt the
existence of a 3rd Dimension, when being a Square,
he’s had neither the education nor the experience of
such a vast place of x, y, and z axes?
The microcosm can only function within a larger
scale. Like a first year chemistry student rectifying
both sides of an equilateral equation, we can fumble
with the jargon and sling Carbon atoms from one
side to the other in risk of odd precipitates until
some mean and unimpressed Professor tuts our way
and sends us off to the Teaching Assistant. There we
may find a gentler coach, who comes to us with
simpler equations and the plodding patience of the
underemployed.
Better yet, find a Teacher with perspective. My
Martial Arts Master describes to his Staff that
anyone, with the proper application of “Monkey
See, Monkey Do” can teach a martial arts technique.
Add some time, and one can become proficient at
teaching the physical demands of Taekwondo. It
takes a more advanced instructor to be able to teach
those same movements with the application of a
quality of technique. Speed this week, Power the
next, down a line of adjustments to create a less
flawed example of a Round Kick. We’re closer now
to the Platonic Ideal kick.
The instructors we must seek are those which
teach the motions of an interest/pursuit, qualities to
improve and a greater feat of mental and emotional
aptitude. This instructor teaches the art of a round
kick, while also teaching humility, confidence,
attitude. It’s the coach in soccer who teaches duty
and teamwork alongside a winning advantage and
footwork, the music teacher who sits their student
down and although the student was proficient at the
melody of a piece, demonstrates the emotion and
spirit behind it. It could be the mountain a climber
@vraeyda
spends three months learning to climb, which along
with physique and a view of the outdoors taught
focus and perseverance. It could be the storm
hitting a ship mid-ocean, where sailors wrestle to
maintain control, then learn to slowly give way and
float with the current to safer waters. It could be the
sound of a young mother pleading with an infant to
calmly fall asleep. Mother’s here teaching security in
a higher power. Lesson learned, that infant grew and
in their mother’s time of need or withering age
threw their arms around her and says “I’m here, I
haven’t forsaken you”.
Without the larger perspective for an event to
sit within, that action can mean nothing.
A girl walks up to a man bent low, peers down in his
terrified face, and says “You killed my family, you
tortured us. I forgive you.”
He breaks down in tears. Immaculee walks away a
hero of forgiveness and grace.
Healing, in Rwanda.
The action is the same, yet through viewing the
larger scale, a new understanding breaks the ice of
flippancy and easy shoulder shrugs. In our first issue,
we watched the sun rise with laughter, over the way
a group of German musicians discovered beauty,
fantasy and inspiration in the Scottish Highlands.
We’ve seen the heart of a woman peering for a brief
moment at a broken-knuckled man, and seen the
swirls of light and love reformed into a forest in Seed
of Life. Alone they are pieces of identity, academia,
metaphysical poetry and the view of a man after a
fight. Looked at from a larger distance, what is it we
see?
On behalf of the contributors and staff of
Vraeyda Literary, thank you for cracking open the
spine of this primordial edition. We hope you come
back to vraeydamedia.ca and check out more works
of these authors, artists, musicians and filmmakers.
With love,
Melissa Ratajczak Ratel
C.E.O.

29. MichaEl Kwaku
KEssE Somuah
Someday,
I will go to heaven and fall in love
with the world of children
to a thought of smiles
and breath of fresh air.
Someday,
My heart will sing a song
of love, in a Holy City
where you would belong
and dance to paintings of life
eternal
Someday,
Precious stones of diamonds
would not be a pleasure of the eyes
milky meals on the menu
would delight those who succumbed to death
Someday,
I will wed my arms open
to the basking souls
who lived at peace with me and all men
SAY NO
TO
GOOD
BYE
This preview is incomplete.
For the full version, please purchase
And subscribe.
www.vraeydamedia.ca/store
macromicrocosm.tumblr.com

30. www.vraeydamedia.ca 1st Edition 1st Issue Winter 2014