How sweet it is: FRUITION. Today, at last! THE ARRIVAL OF THE BOOK. I had the leasing agent, a wonderful man himself who knew that I had been waiting anxiously for over a week for its arrival, to take a photo of me tearing the book from the packaging as if I was a child opening a gift from Santa on Christmas day. Only this time, Santa arrived 5 days late. After that, I just so happened to run into an old college buddy outside my building that I had not seen in over 28 years. As he walked by, I was like, hey, I think I know that guy. He looks familiar. I called out to him and Lo and Behold he and I had been members of the prestigious Birmingham-Southern College Concert Choir way back in the olden days, LOL, some would say the Golden Days prior to the dreadful, God-awful HIV ANNOUNCEMENT DAY in 1984. Ole-boy and I reminisced about college choir and the death of friends we missed, one of whom I had hoped to reacquaint with who had taught me to love everything Barbra Steisand ever sang, LOL, but whom I was informed several months after arriving here, had died. The person who reluctantly shared that news with me, told it in such a way as to not tell the whole story, but imply what had happened. If you are anything like us, you know exactly that awkward feeling of having to reveal that a beloved died from so called HIV to people you know who knew them too. One never wants to be put in that awful position. I was so saddened that I was thrown off balance for several weeks afterwards. My old friend, like many of my friends and acquaintances throughout the long years since undergraduate school had been murdered with HIV Drugs. Wow, how time flies. How precious and short life can be. Please forgive me. I digress. Give me a moment. ----------. Anyway, I decided to renew a library book called The Art of Spiritual Dreaming before late fees ensued. I had joined a group of ECKists right here in the Magic City 2 months ago. We meet once a month at the public library. This would be my second and last-allowed renewal of the book as per library policy. After doing that, I would go to Starbucks, of all places, a place I infrequently visit, but on today, I thought, why not go there to read my book-in-hand for the very first time? My eyes could not help but periodically peer over at the book cover as it lay safely in the passenger seat of my car en route to the library. Anybody looking-on as I drove by would wonder why I was grinning for seemingly no reason at all. If only they knew everything that went into that book; my heart, my mind, and my life, the excitement, the terror of sharing my personal story, the opportunity to help others that lay before me next to me, that lay behind me, right there next to me since I became an avid HIV Dissenter all those many years ago. When I arrived at Starbucks, the son of a college mate I met when I returned to my old college town in Birmingham Alabama, after having being away for over 28 years, walked in. I moved back here because this is the place where I went to college and where I was when we first heard of HIV on television in 1984, the place where in that very instant, my life was changed forever. It was never the same after learning that people like me were dying from a disease said to be afflicting people like me. Something inside me changed that day. A piece of my soul fragmented every time thereafter when the word HIV was heard. I went through life smiling on the outside, but troubled within the depths of my being. Somehow, all these years later, I am here thriving and living a purposeful life when death was once thought to be my fate since 1996. So, here I am, relocated back here after all those years of fear and turmoil and healing to heal further and write the second revision of my book, right in the place where it all started. Forgive me, I digress and I shutter. Give me another moment.------. Anyway, I know that my old friend’s son, who was a baby when his dad and I met in college, is among many other wonderful things, a writer. I told him that I would be honored if he would read the first page of my book so that I could see his reaction. The opening few lines of a book determine if a reader will likely persist through it in anticipation of a thrill, or set it aside for leisure reading at a later time. Either way is fine with me, as the messages in the book are so important for people to hear. I studied his face and gestures as I looked-on expectantly while he read. There was no visible reaction, initially. Before looking up, he paused, twisted and shifted and swiveled his body in his seat, tilted his head and looked skyward for a time, and then looked down and up, directly at me, and smiled reassuringly. He actually took the time to write this for me, after I asked him if it was okay if I posted his photo and our special meeting on Facebook. He gladly agreed. While multi-tasking, he spoke about the importance of seeing that his 2 young children be homeschooled and not be educated by people who do not have our children's best interests in mind. Home-Schooling is an ever-increasing phenomenon, especially among Black families. He spoke of Group Home-Schooling. Then he passed the note he wrote to me. It simply said this: "The voice of the dissenter isn't always the most wanted but very often the most needed. The questions posed by Damian Laster on the first page drew me into a conversation about self-awareness and healing that clashes against traditional thinking, but feels good to the soul. ~~ Voice Porter.
Imagine that; a compliment from a man named Voice, Voice Porter, the son of Dewayne Porter, my college buddy from way back when...who resembles, unlike his dad, one of my favorite singers, Gregory Porter. Even Voice acknowledged the he and Gregory might be related. I showed him the photo that Gregory graciously allowed me to take with him backstage after his impressive performance here in the Magic City at the historic Carver Theatre last week. Not surprisingly Voice loves Gregory's song stylings too. Hmm. I am reminded that Porter=Port=Gate=Gateway=Opening). Perhaps synchronicity is showing me that I am choosing to enter the gateway that opens to new possibilities and opportunities. How sweet it is; FRUITION! Thank you, Divine Mother God. I love you too. Let the healing continue right here in the place where all the pain set in.
~~Damian Laster/ The Conscious Doctor
There Is NO HIV, The Rainbow Warrior Exposing The Truth About HIV Antibody Testing and The Metaphysics of Self-Healing through Chakra and Kundalini Awareness
www.consciousdr.com (your ONE STOP location for all things HIV Dissent and all things Metaphysical and all things HEALING! You are welcomed there.
***********I am learning how to become a successful SELF-PUBLISHED AUTHOR. Please bear with me as I learn to master the art of going global. For now, please visit www.consciousdr.com and click the PURCHASE THE BOOK link for Amazon and follow the prompts. International customers can go to Amazon, click the HELP button, then SHIPPING QUESTIONS and then SHIPPING RATES and proceed as normal when ordering any book online. Amazon Customer Service can be reached at 1 866 216-1072. Contact me for any additional information. I will help as best I can. Otherwise, remain patient as I learn how to be a voice for global awakening to the truth about HIV Antibody Testing and market and sell my book on my own; Sovereign***********
Hetepu, Peace to You,
Dr. Damian Q. Laster, Msc.D. M.Ed. aka Kbr Amn Rkhty which means (I AM AWARE THAT THE SPIRIT OF THE HIDDEN GOD LIVES IN ME AS THE CHRIST POTENTIAL)
"We are like children. We're painted on canvases. Watch your technique as you go. Sit back and admire my view. Can I choose the colors I choose? Do I have some say what you use? Can I get some green and some blue? We're made by the pigment of paint that is put upon; our stories are told by our hues..."