As I’ve walked through the many little graveyards by the old adobe Mission Churches, I’ve wondered as most people do when they look at the sand covered grave with an old weathered wooden cross, “what’s your story?” You can only tell your story while you’re alive, it will be forgotten or misquoted later. I’ve tried to tell my unique story, which most people don’t want to hear, because it is important as every human story has value. Most websites gloss over their real story with pretty pictures and happy faces, but this is their one opportunity to tell the world what it is like living on earth. These graves in the picture become anonymous, their names even washed or eroded away. We have the momentary time in history to tell our stories on web sites, which may or may not have an impact on the future. I grew up with the adults around me saying, “children are to be seen, not heard and children are the property of the parents. Both these opinions led to horrific child abuse. I was raised within the strict, narrow minded Baptist Church, which had little actual knowledge of creative spirituality and even less about God, the Creator working with creativity, and actually banned artwork, artists and other races from the Church. I was extremely affected by my artist Mothers abuse and penitent crucifixion obsession, but it did focus my attention on God, which is the golden lining on the abuse, only because God is real and my relationship with him is real. New Mexico is a wondrous state, landscape, traditions and culture, but it is all being buried with the focus on money and business, but you can still find the beauty and human values in the little villages if you look. Tell your story before you’re gone.


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