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Cancerous Emotions Cause Heartache

I have learned many things since I started this horrid battle against the Pharyngeal and Squamous Cell Carcinomas.

One of the most important, yet heartbreaking, being that having terminal cancer changes all aspects of life. Yours and every person connected to you in any and each way.

For the patient it is difficult enough. They must go through the various stages of coming to the realization that they do indeed have terminal cancer. And Death is intimate.

I was tortured through the first few stages of cancer acceptance.

First came the “Denial” .

I don’t have cancer. I want another and another opinion.”

Then came “Depression.”

The darkness crept in. The tears began to fall.

And of course this was followed by the demonic “Suicidal” stage.

I gave it serious consideration. Being a man who has been Blessed with loving family and dear friends, I was pulled from the bowels of this Demon.

And in all honesty it was just in the knick of time. I lie to you not

I am now in the “Acceptance” stage.

I am at peace with the diagnosis.

I am at war with the desease.

My soul mate, my family, my friends and everyone connected to my life get the smelly end of the stick.

They must stand helpless and full of guilt because they know not what they can do to alleviate my suffering.

(“SUFFER” is an understatement – what my precious loved ones had to witness was heartbreaking for me.)

Like I stated previously, I have no choice but to accept the “diagnosis“.

I DO NOT HAVE TO AGREE WITH THE “TERMINAL” labelling.

They, my loved ones, will forever be stuck in the “Denial” stage.

For who wants their spouse, parent, child, best friend, etc. to be dying of not one, but two cancers?

The pain and sorrow I see in their eyes fuels my fires to beat this demonic affliction against all the odds that are stacked against me.

I cannot allow cancer in my body to cause pain and heartbreak in their hearts.

We have all changed personality wise. My many sons and I have grown much closer. As has my relationship with my dearest friend and deepest love. The relationship between my ex-wife of 32 years and I has become far more calm, for lack of a better word.

The pleasent side of this is I hear the words, “I love you.” often. Not spoken only to me, but being readily exchanged between family and friends.

What makes this far more heartwarming is not only do I hear the sincerity of the “I love you’s”, I have the Blessing to see the “love” being naturally expressed.

There is always something good trapped inside a disparaging situation. You simply have to identify and bring it to the surface so that it may be a Blessing for all.

The cancer emotions are severe – severe enough to destroy even the strongest and most faithful of souls.

I put my loved one through Hell on many occasions this past few months. Especially when I battled my way through the Denial and Suicidal phase.

I am still a very moody and cantankerous prick at times. I try not to be but it happens. I could blame the pain, or the depression, or the side effects of the opiates, but I blame myself. It is up to me to not take my frustration and sadness out on others.

This Cancer War has made me a grounded soul. I realize that I am far from immortal now. Life is far more precious now. I treasure each second of every minute of each hour I have with my loved ones.

I see more beauty in my soul mate – my dearest friend – Maria. I see how handsome my sons are. I appreciate the love as a friend my ex-wife and I can now share.

Greatest thing I have learned is that life has no time for drama or childish arguments. That one smile is capable of banishing a hundred frowns.

I learned to love MYSELF once again and to let the people I love know that I do truly appreciate and love them.

Yet, I hold that guilt and the sorrow of what I see in their eyes.

I wish they could and would believe that although I am living in a painful Hell, I will be fine. For this Original Urban Viking – the Last Canadian Cosmonaut is not ready for ascension.

I will beat this demonic affliction back to the dusty bowels of Helheim it came from.

Until then, I shall remain – Dann, just as I am

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A Conversation With My Last Born

My Last Born.

My Pride.

My Joy.

My new life began the day I watched him come into our world.

May 30th, 2003 was a memorable day in life – one of my personally happiest milestones.

Dakota, your soul is as pure and kind as is your heart is large. You are the iconic “Gentle Giant“.

I am privileged and PROUD to be your father.

I feel that I am not too demanding a father. I always kept you boys close to my side, but at the same time gave you room to soar.

I want you to soar higher than you can imagine. Go where Miss Destiny leads.

Take those doubtful “leaps”.

Important to not leap without looking.

I left home at an age where most my peers were playing with their ‘Hot Wheels” race sets.

I have been out here 50 of my 62 years. It has not been an easy journey.

Trust me on that.

I learned early that the key to basic survival is to have a true heart, practice compassion, speak only truths, listen with intentioned desire to help and most of all, stay HUMBLE.

There is nothing that will make me happier then if you follow and practise these few “rules” or “lessons”.

As you well know I tried all my life to treat my Family, my Loved Ones, my Friends and many more with respect, charity and compassion.

If you can incorporate these into your already soulful personality your life will always be Blessed my Son, always. ….

Hold your head high, always. Be Native and Verner Family Proud.

Be Humble. Humbleness is key to happiness.

Never look down upon anyone. They may be broken from a situation unknown to you or one that they suffer within alone. “Broken ” can be repaired.

Never, under any circumstance, disguise “Deceit” as “Love”.

NEVER. Emotions are not weapons.

Love is the greatest gift the Creator allows us.

THIS IS THE NUMBER ONE TRAIT YOU MUST LIVE LIFE BY, SON.

32 years with your Beautiful Mother is proof that being loyal pays.

Never stray, Son. NEVER.

Why eat cookies in shame when you have Angel Food Cake at home?

To stray is to lie about love. The worst lie of all. A lie that destroys life’s very essence.

I cannot express how strongly I feel about this.

THIS IS THE NUMBER ONE RULE TO BEING A GOOD FATHER, HUSBAND AND MAN.

Never give into that hormonal Darkness.

If I can look down from Valhalla and see my Last Born being the first born to become who he was meant to be and living a humble life, then I may finally smile and know that my humble life had meaning.

And that amazing Light locked within you will emerge and you will live a many faceted fantastic life.

And I shall be the proudest Father, Husband and Man ever to walk this walk.

I love you Dakota James McLean Verner.

I love you Son.
As I love your Brothers

#VernerFamilyProud
#LightHouseDannVerner

Piscina de Lágrimas

The night reminds me that there lay a hole in my heart.

A dark aching patch which once was filled with joyous laughter and pride.

Pride for being gifted with loving her.

I shall never not love her.

How could I?

For my heart beats only for her.

In days of futures past the love will still be genuine.

Love is not a mere word. Although, some may believe.

It well may be a physical part of that which we are made of.

So, I shall shed these tears.

For they are mine.

They shall gather as a pool of joyfulness and sorrow in the dark hole within my heart.

And I will smile.

And remember when it was love …..

At first sight.

Winds of Change, Tides of Emotions

It is very windy tonight. The serene howl of the steady gusts plays nic nac on my back.

This takes my mind off the physical pain.

Yet, I am still tormented by the nagging burn through out my neck.

A mere price to pay for a longer life.

Speaking of which …..

I am having trouble dealing with both ‘life’ and ‘death’.

To be honest, I am not ‘dealing’ with them well at all.

I am an angry, emotional wreck of a once funny man.

I used to laugh as much as possible. Always was able to find the ‘other side of life’ Now, I am not able to find much to laugh about.

It is unfair what the PTSD of a cancer diagnosis does to you and everyone in your life. I believe it is an actual part of the actual desease.

Many of the days and nights that I lay in the hospital bed, I would cry and, often, wish for Death’s Kiss.

Is this world that the we are in worth going through this therapy?”

I will not agree to any surgery that will leave me disfigured or immobile.

Being alone 24 hours a day, in an isolation room, for eleven weeks and on high doses of opiates is NOT good. It steals the ‘Light’ from your soul and replaces it with conspiracy theories and self-destruction.

I am not sure how I survived these past six months. The stroke, the abscess, the septicemia, the exploded spleen all on top of the two cancers.

Doctors only explanation is “a miracle“.

That I do believe as truth.

I have been out of Princess Margaret Cancer Hospital two months today. Seems like years.

The after shocks of the radical radiation treatment are attacking me strongly. The pain is often unbearable.

If I don’t bear it, who shall?

None of this is fair to my loved ones and my dearest friends.

I see the sorrow in their hearts and eyes when they glance at me.

My ex-wife tries her best to hide her tears. My sons are constantly reminding me how greatly they love me.

I am full of self hatred for my allowing cancer into my life. No man wishes such pain and anguish on his family.

In some ways I guess you could say that cancer is a family affliction. For the whole family suffers from it’s demonic stranglehold.

I will die feeling the guilt of bringing pain and sadness to my family.

The girlfriend couldn’t handle it. She chose to believe that I am a liar and am not going to pass.

That was heartbreaking. Yet, she seems to think that I have done this on purpose. An attention grab.

That is sad. For her attitude has assured me that not one single “I love you” that escaped her lips was spoken with truth.

I fear it is more her loss than mine.

My love was honest and true.

I am beginning the second stage of this horrific battle.

Many, many upcoming tests and procedures. Numerous more appointments.

Tons more mind debilitating pain.

I pray.

Often.

I place all my woes in the hands of my Creator.

And I pray.

Am I Finally Broken, Never To Be Repaired?

I am lost.

I am all alone in a crowded world.

A cold world for sure.

It’s not like it was during my youth.

Society has changed. The people haven’t, but their ‘society‘ has.

So, I am left to ask you, the total stranger, am I finally broken, never to be repaired?

I blame most my demise on the era I went through my puberty in.

That sliver of time between the 1950’s and it’s gospel /bluegrass/country & Western musically influenced attitude and the 1960’s Dawning of Aquarius/LSD/Frank Zappa cultural shock era.

I embraced the latter lifestyle tightly. I still do to this day. Peace, Love & Hippie Dope – the artist eccentricity creating chaos in my heart.

My choice to bear the weight being a vagabond twelve year old hippie nomad led me into a world where feelings were real and emotions ran free. Everything was black and white.

It is what it is. Never sugar coat reality.

I was always partaking in one or more exploratory excursions into the expanded conciseness mindset.

The artist within me caused an eccentric side. I loved too honestly. I angered too deep. I was a nonconformist.

I was walking counterclockwise in a clockwise world.

My analytical side over examined all and everything within my realm of life.

The ten years of chasing Her Majesty, The Black Dragon, across her tinfoil highway did not help.

I have lived over six decades so far.

My life, or lives, has/have taken five autobiographical books thus far to enlighten ‘others‘.

I certainly have not lived a ‘normal‘ set of lives.

In a confessional way you could say that I have lived a tragic and chaotic youth.

Yet, from these sixty-one year old clouded eyes, I would confess from my standpoint that I merely ‘lived’ my life.

No one sees their life as it is perceived through the eyes of others.

“What is my greatest regret? you ask.”

LOVING TRULY, MADLY & DEEPLY”, I must answer.

I was a liar, cheat, thief, punk, gangster and killer in ALL aspects of all my lives – EXCEPT WHEN IT CAME TO LOVING SOMEONE.

I can go to Helheim or Valhalla knowing that in the matter of love, I was devoted one hundred percent into staying faithful, loving truly, madly, deeply and I never held back from confessing my love to my beloved.

AND BY DOING SO I HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF TEARS. I HAVE LIVED LOVE LOCKED INTO A FANTASY I PRAYED WAS A REALITY.

A falsehood created by overthinking and over loving.

I only had a few true loves in my life.

All of which I dove heart first into.

My eccentric artist side painted fairytale portraits of family bliss on the canvas of my emotions.

My first true love being my teenage sweetheart of eight years.

She destroyed my heart by giving away my first born son and then cutting her own throat. Causing herself severe, irreversible brain damage, while I sat in the discomfort of Her Majesty’s Super Maximum Penitentiary.

The nerve of me to pay my debt to society!!!

Then there was my first wife.

I paid her mother fifty dollars for her.

True story.

Six weeks later we were legally married.

To each other.

Eight months later we were divorced.

From each other.

My Mother being horrifically murdered was more than her snitty self could handle.

I loved thinking we had been in love.

Number three lasted thirty-two years.

It was true love. No lie.

It became tainted by my rebel ways, my eccentric behavior and my constantly venturing into the Dark side.

This led to our growing apart from our original selves.

Not to say we didn’t have a good run.

We had many, many good years.

In today’s world it takes but one or two bad years to bury thirty good ones.

Unfortunately, my becoming a victim of a tragic industrial crippling accident was the catalyst of a ripple effect that ripped our family apart.

Our love for each other lost in the typhoon of modern life.

Again, the artist within had painted many a lifescape and my hands molded sculptures of everlasting bliss.

This lay cause to becoming greatly damaged emotionally upon the marriage disolution.

Then came my greatest and most cherished love. I am so deeply in love with her that I hurt.

I believe she strongly loves me, also.

But, she cannot express or confess the trueness of her love. She is robbed of enjoying the escasty and bliss of being truly loved. It was stolen by her being the victim of an expert manipulation of a Narcissistic Meth Head.

His brainwashing cut deep wounds across this beautiful soul’s heart.

My artistic eccentricity is causing me to self destruct. I have been living in a self potraited fantasy of living the rest of my life wrapped in the warmth of loving only her.

And she is brainwashed into believing and living in the shadows of fear planted by a sick excuse of a man.

My heart is hers – I call her “Mi Corazon” – for she is my heart. Each beat whispers her name.

I am trapped in my desires to be her man so badly that I cry.

I have to love her one hundred percent.

I am hurting myself loving her.

She is not capable of dropping her past abuses and allowing true love into her life.

A life she would honestly enjoy. If only she were capable of accepting affection.

I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

And I cry at the minimum of twelve hours per day.

Not over dying of cancer.

I cry because the kind soul buried deep within me cannot find the resources to show my truest love how to allow herself to be loved truly and faithfully.

I do not wish to die knowing she will live her life afterwards full of unretractable regrets.

She deserves a far better life than she has ever known.

I have earned my chance to finally be a real man and love the way love is portrayed to be.

Am I living a fantasy brought forth by the eccentric hippie attitude within?

Kapitulation

Many have surely noticed by now that my emotions and writings are up and down more than elevator at a tourist attraction.

I apologize for that.

I am going through so much, … too much, for me to quell the demons.

I apologize.

I never expected that by my becoming a victim of cancer it would cost me all the things most dear to me.

My home = gone

My son = gone

My dogs = gone

My truest love = gone

My physical body = gone

My innermost soul = gone

It has to be me. Every day it’s the same subliminal accusations. So, I must be doing some sort of low life activity that I am unaware of.

It’s the only logical explanation.

In my day, it was said that if someone constantly accuses you of doing something then it was THEY who are hiding secrets.

I do not believe that either, though.

I feel like a damn broken recording, but, I will repeat this one more time :

I may be a dangerous man, a killer, a thief, a biker, a nomad. BUT ….. I never lie about how truly I love someone. Only a low life piece of crap would play with another souls emotions. It is one of the worse things you can do to anyone – playing Russian roulette with their hearts and souls.

Cancer is evil. It takes control over your family and close friend’s emotions and tries to wreak havoc every way it may.

Often it wins and destroys the patient and his/her family ties.

Many marriages fall apart due to the complexity of what comes with a cancer diagnosis.

I am tired, very tired. Mainly emotionally, but very much physically, also.

I have had so much happen in the past two years.

Fall and winter 2017/2018 – nine surgeries on my kidneys, and bladder.

Removed my gall bladder.

One third of my liver removed.

Spring 2018 – repair and replace part of the hardwear holding my right foot together.

Followed shortly thereafter by yet another heart attack.

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Summer 2018 – seizures started. It was determined they are being caused by residual damaged from when they removed C2, C3, C5 and C6 vertebrae and the spinal cord and brain damage from the shattered neck.

Fall 2018 – shot in the leg by a nice black man on Dawes Road. Wrong place at the right time.

Early October diagnosed with Pharyngeal carcinoma, Stage 4 – 19 tumors in my head, neck and upper chest area.

Exactly one week to the day I received the diagnosis of the Squamous Cell carcinoma, it also is Stage 4. One very large tumor on the base of my tongue and one smaller tumor on either side 3 close to my heart and 3 additional ones in the frontal lobe area of my beautiful brain.

Both cancers too far past conventional treatments.

My two options consisted of complete removal of my tongue and most everything in my neck cavity

or

take part in a human trial and complete a very radical and complex series of radiation therapy.

Hence, I chose the latter.

January 2019 – while hospitalized for treatments they found an extremely large existing abscess in my lower abdominal cavity.

This abscess was existing for Lords know how long and was not related to the cancers or previous conditions. 

One week after the removal of the abscess I had a drain tube malfunction that tore up more of my intestines and such. It manifested into a full blown septicemia battle. Almost died twice during the battle to survive.

February 2019 – after being home only two nights on February 2nd my spleen explodes in my sleep and I bleed out. Eventually I would go through 8 litres of my rare blood. But for the grace of God I am still here today.

Miraculously, they kept me alive and I was able to get discharged from the Micheal Garron Hospital and re-admitted to Princess Margaret Cancer Hospital.

March 1st 2019 – I successfully finished the radical radiation sessions.

Very successful in killing the both types of tumors.

Or so we had thought ……..

April 2019 – 7 Squamous Cell tumors return.

Come May 6th, 2019 I will receive a complete and more complex updated diagnosis of my situation.

Until then, I remain, Dann – just as I am.

Broken

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Deep Thoughts

Emotions run deep with aging. Things matter more as your aged body reminds your brain that time is slithering down the drainpipe of life.

I find myself experiencing moments that often well my eyes with tears. Be they of joy or of sadness, they appear frequently.

I have become an emotional senior.

A simplistic hug from my grown child, a smile from a grandchild, watching my nephews with their daughters or just sharing a coffee with a friend fills my heart with a warmth like no other.

All my life I was known as a”tough guy” and in many ways I may have well been such.

I can only say that I perceive myself as a mere man who – due to leaving home at a very young age – learned that life is survival of the fittest. So perhaps I inherent acquired “tough guy facades”.

I am extremely tough within myself. Physical pain is my souls equivalent of an Oreo cookie is to my taste buds.

I have the ability to withstand the highest thresholds of physical pain you could imagine.

I fear not pain. I have had far too many surgeries to accept pains tangy bite.

Mental anguish, however, rips me to pieces. Never used to, though.

This is yet another newly acquired curse brought up by the aging of the body and mind. The “Maturity of Self”, if you will.

Aging and I are at ends. I see no friendship developing between us. I find aging to be an ignorant, pushy, son of a bitch. It would be best to step aside and return me my full head of hair.

I like bunnies. They are cute, but can be viscous little creatures. It being Easter, many a bunny will be suffering in a short period. Victims of someone’s idea of a “cute” Easter present.

Cute until either let loose to fend for themselves or orphaned to the nearest Society for the Prevention of Animal Cruelty.

Poor bunnies. I like bunnies.

Don’t like insects. Little frackers make me itch. Big time! Worse than the skin condition I caught off of that East Indian girl in junior high school. But, I do not think we should speak of that any further.

I love loving. It is the one life long “habit” that does not fade away as our facial wrinkles grow deep. Love feels the same or greater with each day.

For it is as real as all the other emotions that form our individual personalities.

The most important of all emotions.

I respect aging. Can’t be stopped. Persistent till the end. You must respect that determination. I will compromise. We will live side by side within the boundaries of my persona.

I am fighting two cancers. I almost lost the first round.

A stroke, an abscess from Hell, septicemia attack, my spleen exploding and resulting in my bleeding almost completely out – – – all the while having two double sessions of radical radiation per day.

I live a very strange life while existing in a strange society.

And I like bunnies and a fiesty woman.

Tumors Are Back With A Vengeance

I received my test results.

It’s confirmed. The cancer is winning.

Big time.

Payout is about two months away.

I won round 1 only to be sucker punched into a Round 2.

I am emotional to say the least.

The bastard got me. Hook, line and sinker. Or so it believes!

I can’t stand up to face Round 2 without a referee. My referee will be my Faith.

If it is to be a clean fight I will need a few well placed right hooks, or we will go down fast.

Cancer doe snot fight a clean fight.

Cancer is a dirty fighter.

I will have to fight as a true Urban Viking and utilize whatever I may to bring this wretched , demonic dease to it’s knees.

I am “The Original Urban Viking” , as such it is up to me to lay the ground rules for future Urban Vikings, who may follow and have to fight for their very lives.

The most important rule to fighting cancer is to not be afraid to cry or laugh.

You will be scared. No one fighting these battles can say they were/are not afraid.

YOU ARE FACING DEATH!!!!

There will be days when you beg your Creator to just take you and end your suffering.

DO NOT GIVE IN TO THIS NEGATIVITY!!!!

There will also be days that you are smiling and ready for whatever is tossed unto your lap.

You will have emotional days where as you feel you have lost all your manhood or womanhood. Days where the mirror becomes your enemy as you realize that you look like a holocaust survivor. Where you do not recognize the poor soul in the mirror.

Just bear in mind that you can recover. It will take time. A long time. But, you will recover.

My recent test results surprised me. I was not expecting such a severe diagnosis. I expected bad, but not horrible.

I committed the biggest mistake in a cancer battle ….

I let my guard down and allowed hope to give me a false feeling of a battle already won.

This leaves me in the uncomfortable position of choosing which remedy best suits my recovery.

Option one:.

Death within 2 months. Not acceptable!

Option 2:

Another round of heavy duty radical radiation. No one else has survived.

On my right shoulder I have a cute white winged Angel telling me to follow them.

Her remedy was to pass the bucket on the left hand side and, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, ingest large quantities of radiation. With no guarantee other than months of discomfort.

Of which my chance of being cured lay at a measly 7 percent survivor rate.

On my left shoulder stands a drunken mini version of a Keebler Elf with tossed salad in his hair.

His remedy was to allow the Winds of Change and Darkness to take as much time as they need to devour my frontal lobes.

Totally unacceptable.

Which would you choose?

I opted for allowing Nature to attack at her wish.

I will counterattack with all my resources. The human body is an amazing machine and with the right positive attitude is capable of much that modern medicine cannot explain.

My surviving the first round of this battle is living proof of this.

To quote my team of doctors,

Only words to describe my winning so far is ‘Miracle’.”

I have to wait now.

Patiently.

For Ascension.

To put this in “Layman terms”:

I got two cancers. First we thought we were winning. This was a ‘hope’.

I know I am far stronger than most believe. More than I even believe.

I will do what I must to stay alive. The only thing I will absolutely refuse is disfiguring surgeries.

For, I am The Original Urban Viking and Valhalla is not ready for me. Helheim is afraid of me.

I will go down head held high and my axe swinging.

Frack cancer.

I choose life!

Was My Life Hard? I Think Not

I am ‘LightHouse Dann Verner’.

A man who some say has lived many tragic lives.

The first decade of my life I had lived in thirty-two homes. None of which I ever spoke the words, “Mom or Dad“. Only “Mister or Misses”.

I started my ‘Walks‘ at the age of ten fighting the monsters in my head. The demons were winning for many years.

I left my siblings Father’s house at the age of twelve to join a hippie commune and learned how to be a Heroin addict.

I have never slept in my father or mothers house since that day.

That was over fifty years ago…..

Was my life hard?

I think not.

Every life is difficult.

It is our trials and tribulations that define who we become in life.

I have done many things I am ashamed of.

I have done far more that I am proud of.

Never let your past transgressions define your future.

Hold your head high and hold the attitude that you are the best you that you can be today.

For yesterday has ‘passed’.

Tomorrow is always “tomorrow“.

Today is ‘now‘ and only the Creators know what each day will teach you, show you and bring to you.

Never be leary to stand head high.

Always treat each new day as another ‘birth“.

Walk With Dann Collection” tells you of my many trials and tribulations.

Available at:

amazon.com/author/lighthouseverner

Hope Is All We Really Have

So, final diagnosis from the surgeons …. oropharyngeal cancer’ in the neck and my cranium. And now in addition to that I have been diagnosed with Squamous Cell Carcinoma which has grown in the form of a very large tumor on the back of my tongue.

This tumor presents life threatening and serious consequences. Hence, my throat is closing up. On January 3rd, 2019 I will begin radical chemo/beam radiation treatment for periods of six and a half weeks, a short break and then repeated.

Also, I have to have a surgically implanted feeding tube installed and a trachea breathing airway in my throat and a port-a-cath for administrating medications and such.

I have battled many things in my life, but this will be my greatest battle of all. I am scared. I am not ashamed to admit that. I cry at night. I cry when no one but my soulmate can see or hear. I have the right to cry for I may very well not make it through this battlefield of treatment.

The doctors say if the Squamous Cell reaches my liver there will be little they can do other than dope me up and let me pass on to the next space/time continuum.

I have walked my seven paths on the seven continuum’s. The eighth you do not return for that is the one where the Light chooses you, not you choosing the Light.

If that is what lays before me, I am okay with it. I have lived a wild life, Blessed life – a life many would be jealous of. I have walked many different paths, a beggerman, a thief, a hippie, a biker, a vagabond, a father, a husband (a few times), an electrician, a poet and recently, an author.

To quote Kid Rock, “I have ate of dumpsters and I have dined with Kings.”

I would do it all over again if given the chance. My lifestyle and the choices I made, although often tragic, gifted me with meeting tens of thousands of people from every walk of life there is. I learned from them, I absorbed knowledge from every encounter and the greatest thing I was rewarded with was “SURVIVAL” .

I left my parents home at the age of 12. A mere snot nosed baby in diapers. I never went home since then.

Who does such a thing you may ask.

I do.

I am ‘LightHouse Dann Verner’.

A man who some say has lived many tragic lives.

The first decade of my life I had lived in thirty-two homes. None of which I ever spoke the words, “Mom or Dad”. Only “Mister or Misses”.

I started my ‘Walks’ at the age of ten fighting the monsters in my head. The demons were winning for many years.

I left my siblings Father’s house at the age of twelve to join a hippie commune and learned how to be a Heroin addict.

I have never slept in my father or mothers house since that day.

That was over fifty years ago.

Foster care, jails, pain, sorrow and addiction were my childhood friends.

My playgrounds were the streets.

My rocking horse a Harley Davidson motorcycle.

I learned how to survive the best I could. I learned the harsh realities of everyday life. I learned deceit, honesty, love, hate and most of all “HOPE”. I survived day by day hoping the next sunrise would be better.

Sometimes it was better. Sometimes it was not.

I have hope today. Hope that although there lays a fifty/fifty chance I will soon be ascending I will survive.

For hope is all we really have.

Namaste’