The Diva in 2010 — 100 days on 100% raw vegan… 24 yrs old, 5’5″ (gained two inches in height since 2008 on High Raw), 120 lbs… generally high energy, headache-free, and significantly reduced symptoms from Endometriosis!

The Diva in Summer 2010…  after 9 months 100% Raw Vegan, balancing out nicely on all fronts, skin glowing, ENDOMETRIOSIS-FREE, hypoglycemia-free, migraine-free (unless I overeat chocolate!), and LOVIN’ LIFE!!! Age 25 — ready for the next step!

]]> http://dauntlessdiva.com/before-after/feed 1 http://dauntlessdiva.com/i-am-a-woman http://dauntlessdiva.com/i-am-a-woman#comments Thu, 15 Jul 2010 20:06:47 +0000 Dauntless http://dauntlessdiva.com/?p=738 The following entry is by guest-blogger, Doshia. It’s a powerful manifesto of what Doshia believes it means to be, simply (but no, not simply) A Woman.

I Am A Woman.

I am not a bitch.
I am not a whore.
I am not a slut.
I do not use my genitalia to manipulate or denigrate another human being.

My sexuality is priceless; my sensuality unrivaled, because it is uniquely mine. I would not seek to compare or compete with another. I am me.
I am beautiful.

I love who I am.
I love my body, my shape and my colors. I love the feel of my own skin, the texture of my hair, the changing hues of my eyes. I move like a woman. I dance softly to the music inside of me, in everything I do. I am frail. I am precious. I am easily hurt. I touch my belly, and remember the warm excitement of a tiny body growing there, the indefinable flutter of another heartbeat resting below mine. I exude femininity; I am soft, sweet. But my soul is unconquerable, my commitment to myself unbreachable.

I Am A Woman.
I Am Strong.
I carry the legacy of generations of women who have endured, and conquered, the injustice of a world that has deemed them inferior simply because of their gender. Women who have stood under the violence of angry and frightened men, who have fought back against the machine that would keep them in skirts and kitchens, who have realized the dreams of their mothers and grandmothers. I belong to a quilt comprised of luminous hope; of rainbowed threads of amazing, wonderful, unbreakable women. I have witnessed the struggles, I have heard the cries, I have seen the fragments of who we are. I am reminded of the compassion, I have felt the love of who we continue to be. I will not turn, I will not submit, I will not die. I have stood in the face of mockery, I have smelled the hot breath of spite, I have seen the glare of indecency. I have felt the blows of hatred upon my body. I have protected myself against a world that would rape me, body, mind and soul. And I continue to love. Because I am a woman.

I love my children tenderly. I wake in the night to soothe their dreams, I sing soft songs, I cradle and rock them in gentle arms. I rise at daybreak, to sweep away the shadows of yesterday and breathe prayers of hope for today. I prepare my children for a world outside my care. I bandage their wounds, correct their mistakes, and support them unwaveringly. I shelter them. Fiercely. My presence, strength and love cover them in the heat of an unkind world. My back is unbending. I am their Mother. There is no greater force.

I love my man passionately. I am there to comfort him when his efforts go unrewarded. I stand beside him, silently, to support him when he is strong, and vocally, when his strength is waning. I touch him carefully, to ease his anguish, to fulfill his dreams, to encourage and appreciate him. I am there, always, to please and honor him. I release my longing to him; my desires are received. I celebrate with him, admire him, burst with the pride I have in him. I have held his hand, and I have held his tears. He holds my heart. He builds me up, and creates a strength in me that cannot be defined or diminished by any other being. I am his alone. There is none other. He is my pillar. I am his Woman.

I live in the whispering memory of my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother’s lives. The wind brushing over my face carries with it the scent of lavender and wheat, the warm reminiscence of American summers built on hard work and love. I shoulder the mysteries of women who struggled in fields, barns, desert shacks, dreaming of another life, but accepting the day; women who kissed husbands and sons bound for war goodbye; women who stood bravely in the truth that those husbands and sons may not return. I come from the battles of the Irish, the Scottish, the Italian women who stood in hot rooms, cooking, cleaning, loving each other with stories and songs and memories. I hear the echoes in my mind of women who imagined, women who walked on, women who stamped their feet in the soil of history. I learn integrity, strength and wisdom from the women whose bloodline I travel. I am proud. I am fortunate. I am beautiful. I remember.

I come from the Earth. I will return. While my feet tread the path, I will plant seeds of life, nurture relationships, and reap unforgettable moments. I will speak kind words, offer my hands, carry the weight of another soul too heavy laden. My spirit will pass from here content and free. I have been a woman. I have felt emotions unexplainable to men. I have had the courage to love and say, “I love you.” I have been beaten, broken, sacrificed and forgotten. But I have endured. And I continue to grow. I have sat in circles with women, feeling the drumbeat of our hearts, for a peaceful future, a softer touch, a quiet passing when our time has come. I have promised to be kind. I have promised to hope. I have promised to remember where we have been, how far we have come. I have promised to keep walking.

I am not a bitch.
I am not a whore.
I am not a slut.
I Am A Woman.

I’m sitting in an OBGYN’s office, pain wracking my abdominal region like never before. For weeks now, I’ve been crippled over with severe cramps that shoot burning tentacles through my guts, sometimes ricocheting up into my lungs or down through my legs. Nothing relieves the pain for more than an hour or two, not even hot baths and gentle, loving massages from friends.

Along with the pain, I’m having every symptom of early pregnancy known to man, from the morning nausea to the hot flashes, the swollen breasts to the frequent trips to the bathroom.

The OBGYN, a tall, dark-mooded fellow with little interest in my pain, my humanity, or the typewritten description of my recurring symptoms that I hand to him, ushers me into a treatment room. He runs a series of tests, ending with the painful prodding of an ultrasound wand.

I am in tears. The whole procedure is horrendous. The OBGYN continues to prod, twice making mocking comments about my teary-eyes and leaving me with an unsettled, saddened sense of just how disconnected he is from the fact that I’m not just a patient paying his bills – I’m a person in pain.

The test is over. The OBGYN turns to me: “I see no signs of visible Endometriosis anywhere inside you. You look like a very healthy woman to me. Healthy ovaries, healthy everything! The only thing I see here is some liquid in your uterus — looks like you might have had an ovarian cyst! That would explain all the pain.”

I leave the doctor’s office in stunned silence. No sign of visible Endometriosis…

It’s April 2010 and I had at that point been 100% Raw Vegan for just 6 months.

“In the Face of Silence “

Elisa was 6 months old when I met her in December 2007. She weighed less than 10 lbs and had beautiful, silky black hair that curled slightly around her tiny skull. Her chocolate-colored eyes overwhelmed her baby face with their hugeness. I wanted to hold her, but the nurse, a gentle nun in a colorless dress and black scarf, quietly intonated that it was best if I did not. I could hardly take my eyes off Elisa until Ricardo Gallego entered the room behind me.

“She is a beautiful baby, eh?” he asked in a thick accent leftover from his days as director of the Sonoran government’s Child Protective Services in Sonora.

“Yes,” I said. Then I noticed it: a stiff cast wrapped around Elisa’s tiny midsection.

I gestured toward it. “Poor baby girl. Was she in an accident?”

Ricardo’s face clouded. As his smile faded, he laid a light hand on Elisa’s forehead and tousled her hair gently. She kicked one foot out and I thought maybe she smiled at his touch.

“It is from her birth father,” said Ricardo.

Ricardo Gallego is the young and courageous director of God’s Haven for Children International, a mission in Nogales, Mexico that rescues and cares for abused children.

He began to tell me in fractured English phrases how they had found Elisa in a house where she was being tormented and abused by her own father, resulting in several broken ribs and potentially life-threatening internal damage.

As I listened, the shock of what Ricardo was saying overpowered all my senses and for a moment I felt like I was falling, fainting inside. I gripped the edge of Elisa’s crib to steady myself, my eyes fastened on her tiny broken body.

“We saved her life,” finished Ricardo. “She will be fine.”

He was smiling now. I was not.

Abused by her own Father… a six-month old infant? What demon possessed the man who would commit this vile crime? And what tragic concept of submission and dependency filled the heart of the mother who would allow this to happen to her own baby?

I met many other children that day in Nogales, Mexico. Ranging from ages 6 months to 12 years old, the girls and boys rescued by GHFCI had the appearance of schoolchildren. Everyone was trimly attired and clean, reminding me of the children I had cared for in day care centers and as a nanny. But contrary to the children I had worked with in my youth, every one of the children at GHFCI had been rescued from sexually abusive parents, relatives or other situations.

They lived in the Haven because, for now, they had nowhere else safe to go.

Though cheerful and comfortable, God’s Haven for Children International was little more than a former private residence converted into a children’s home with brightly painted walls covered in paintings and posters. Some of the posters were simply encouraging reminders that the children were loved, by God and by the Haven workers. Others were carefully-drafted admonitions of good behavior, such as the benefits of sharing and the rules to using the library and school room.

Yet for all this positive energy, the strange, irregular behavior and severe physical injuries evident in new rescues, was enough to keep me aware of the size of the giant the Haven was seeking to slay. Ricardo was indeed a young David, determined to do the work of a hundred men because he had the vision to see that if he did not stand forward and take up this cause, none other would. And his Goliath? The thriving, deadly virus of child sexual abuse in the Borderlands region.

In Nogales, MX, a city that hides no less than fifty (50) houses of child prostitution and pornography, Ricardo and his staff work day and night to bring hope and healing into the lives of the children they rescue. Various international sponsors and religious organizations provide the primary funding for the Haven. Their support makes sure the children always have several solid meals a day, clean clothes and a warm bed at night. However, with a work force including two psychiatrists, rotating caretakers for the children, menial laborers, a lawyer and office staff on payroll, Ricardo sometimes finds the funds running thin at the end of each month.

“We need several thousand dollars a month to run the Haven – minimum,” he told me toward the end of my visit.

At first, the money bowled me over. But as I was driving home, it dawned on me that I, as a single individual with no children to care for, no house to maintain and no staff to pay, require on average $2,000 a month to live on. And here Ricardo was feeding, clothing and providing for not just 14 children, but a full-time staff of no less than ten adults and their families on an income just roughly six times mine! His pleas for funding rapidly became clear to me after I ran these numbers and realized how very little he was really asking for, and how much each dollar was actually doing for the children.

During a television interview for Project Break the Silence, I focused heavily on a statistic that stated that one child in Arizona is abused every hour.

However, in Nogales, MX, Ricardo told me, over 200 boys and girls are sexually abused in their own homes and neighborhoods every day.

That’s nearly ten times the stateside average, and unfortunately on the Mexico side of our borderlands region, the problem gets far less public attention. Not for lack of trying by those who have a heart to change this, however.

After he spoke out against the sex-trafficking of girls in Nogales, Ricardo received death threats on the phone. Still, he persisted, believing that his work with the Haven was not enough and that many more children needed his voice. But sex-trafficking is a multi-billion dollar industry, and according to the Oprah Winfrey Show, which recently ran a special on sex-trafficking featuring advocate Ricky Martin, human sex trafficking is the second-largest organized crime in the world.

With powerful men standing against him, Ricardo would have been well within his bounds to give up in his work and focus just on the Haven and the children the Sonoran government sent his way. But his hope was to bring light into the darkest corners of borderland society and expose the criminals in their dens.

So though the death threats continued, Ricardo was not easily silenced…

Until … the day he was driving his wife and child through the streets of Nogales on a shopping trip. As they pulled up to a stop sign, an untraced assailant fired on the van from across the street. The terrifying whir and splinter of the bullets as they passed by his open window and struck a pole behind the van shook Ricardo to the core. Miraculously, no one in the vehicle was injured and Ricardo was able to get his family home to safety.

This sex-trafficking monster is too big for me to fight alone, he realized.

Against his will, Ricardo was forced to keep silent about the sex-trafficking industry in Nogales and instead focus his boundless energies on the work at the Haven and the children under his care.

Today, the faces of the children at the Haven still drift through my mind at times. I find myself dreaming of tiny Fabian and his drooling, toothless grin… the 2 month old girl who fastened her strong baby hand around my fingers and stared silently up at me from her pink blanket…and Gabby, who when asked how old she was, held up three brown fingers and flashed me a starry smile from under dark bangs. These children are the reason people like Ricardo risk their lives every day, and if our nation could only recognize how deeply our own futures are affected by the children of the Borderlands, perhaps more people would join this cause. But until more people do stand forward, Ricardo, his staff, and myself will continue to speak and work for the hope and healing of the next generation.

As we drove away from the Haven that sunny winter afternoon, Ricardo Gallego turned to me from the driver’s seat of his van and said, “Don’t forget to tell people our sign: Cambiamos lagrimas por sonrisas…we turn tears into smiles!”

For your vote, you receive a FREE recipe book of Raw Vegan entrees and desserts and other misc. foods… and you get the satisfaction of supporting HEALTHY living in a fun context!

Thank you for your votes, friends and fans!!!

Where Is The Diva in Her Journey Today?

In April 2010, I relocated operations to the sunny coast of Southern California, where I discovered a warm and welcoming community full of like-minded individuals. It’s been an enriching experience.

Since being assaulted in March 2010, I have begun consciously employing various healing modalities in clearing my past of the 24 years of sexual, physical and emotional abuse that preceded my recent joyous discovery.

I can both create power in my Present, and eliminate the blockages from my Past permanently. Do you yet know that the same is true for you? Do you accept that the same is true for you? The only difference between knowing and accepting, is your choice to move from one to the other…

Two Tools the Author Uses to Feel Like a Diva

• 100% Raw Vegan diet with an emphasis on Green Smoothies and Green Juices (as of mid-June)… Why so many Greens? In my experience, fresh, organic, home-prepared greens are grounding, aid in detoxification, and are high in mineral content which is crucial in my continued physical healing journey as well as my emotional healing journey!
• Intentional Gratitude… creating lists at least a few days a week (though daily is much more effective) of no less than ten things I am grateful for each day. I sometimes post these lists in public places, which is not necessary but I have found often keeps me encouraged to continue writing and appreciating my day-to-day experiences. The power of gratitude has been written about by countless best-selling authors and earth-shakers down through the generations… affirm that power in your own life by giving the practice a one-week trial. I recommend creating a free profile at Bodacious Living or Raw Food Talk and joining the folks who write Daily Appreciations in the forums.
• And the third tool……………..?

#3: Righteous Anger!

Since creating this site in October 2009, I have intentionally been an open book about my life, my health and my healing journey. I share my life openly with you because I believe that by speaking clarity and truth about both the painful AND the joyful, I empower YOU to do the same in your life. Sometimes, simply feeling “free” to speak your truth is the key to your own healing.

Over the last few months, I have received numerous letters from women and men who experienced abuse in the past and are opening up their own lives, writing their own stories down, and telling their families things they have kept hidden for years.

In one instance, a young woman who has feared repercussions from her parents since her early childhood finally began speaking out – publicly in print – about the abuse she suffered at the hands of her parents’ friends. Her bravery has cost her those relationships, but has opened her heart to deep healing. (I would argue that relationships with family or friends who do not support your desire to speak truth, openly, and heal from your past are NOT healthy relationships in the first place. Losing those who drag you down is no loss, at all! And she agreed.)

Breaking the silence is how we break the patterns that we often feel have locked us down… and breaking those patterns is how we free ourselves to create new experiences, new relationships, and new visions that enable us to live healthy, nourishing, joy-filled lives brimming with richness of all kinds.

And there’s one other tool that may actually be imperative if you want to clear the old fatty deposits of your past experiences PERMANENTLY so you have room to create a new and better life.

That tool is Righteous Anger!

*crash BOOM Smash!!!*

I know what you’re thinking. You’re remembering Vacation Bible School and images of a (generally Caucasian, white-bearded) angry God hovering over earth on a cloud (Heaven), pounding his fists and glaring beet-faced down at you and I as we hapless minions huddle together in terror at his feet (Earth).

While this image may have terrified you as a child and may cause you to smile a little today, it’s not exactly what I have in mind when I’m discussing Righteous Anger… rather: Righteous Anger as defined in the Diva’s Dictionary of Dauntless Terms v.2010, is an adjective describing “The process of allowing oneself to fully experience and expressively release the inner rage that one may have allowed to build up inside throughout a lifetime of negative experiences.”

Wait a Minute, Isn’t Anger Unhealthy…?

Today, my therapist, a gentle and encouraging woman I will call Jane, told me something that was mind-blowing to this old-fashioned-past, strictly-raised, heavily-disciplined young woman… she said, “Don’t discount the value of allowing yourself to be angry about what has happened to you in your life.”

Think about that for a minute. Then run down the following list and ask yourself if you identify with these points:

1. Each one of us had things happen to us in our lives that we perceived as “negative”, whether it was the loss of someone we thought we couldn’t live without or something as simple as a red light at the wrong time of the commute.
2. Many of us have chosen to express the feelings that follow such “negative” experiences by locking them up, pretending to forget about them (and even succeeding for a time)…. or, lashing out at others or ourselves in anger at “God and the world” for what you perceive to have been another dark act in a stormy plot against your happiness.
3. Most of us regret the anger later, and wonder why it is we feel angry, and by questioning the validity of our anger, we make ourselves MORE angry AT ourselves, until it becomes a self-perpetuating cycle of self-condemnation and angry outbursts.
4. Most of us have been taught as children to consider expressions of anger to be an improper display, unhealthy, and/or deserving of punishment.
5. Some of us, deep down, aren’t sure that Point #4 is really all that accurate anymore.

If you’re a human being reading this, chances are you are very familiar with Anger! Chances are you identify with not just one, but most of the five points listed above.

In the book, You Can Heal Your Life by best-selling author and teacher Louise L. Hay, Louise describes her childhood and the years of abuse and emotional torment she suffered at the hands of her step-father and others. She tells how she developed Cancer, and learned that it was her resentment and pent-up anger from her earliest years that had caused the dis-eased cells to form in her body.

She then provides a beautiful, succinct description of the healing power of Righteous Anger:

• “I knew I had to clear the patterns of resentment I had been holding since childhood. It was imperative for me to let go of the blame. Yes, I had had a very difficult childhood with a lot of abuse – mental, physical, and sexual. But that was many years ago, and it was no excuse for the way I was treating myself now. I was literally eating my body with cancerous growth because I had not forgiven.. With the help of a good therapist, I expressed all the old, bottled-up anger by beating pillows and howling with rage. This made me feel cleaner.”

(Excerpt from: You Can Heal Your Life, Louise L. Hay, ed. 1999, p238)

So there you have it. The Diva’s third tool of choice. Whether it’s pounding pillows… writing fiery streaks of old feelings, intentions, and memories across pages of my journal… crying in the shower or crying behind the wheel of the car… singing songs that express the past and make room for the future… working with a therapist or counselor you can trust… or occasionally screaming at walls… or some other safe, guided, and serious method you choose to release the locked-inside emotions from your earliest years to today — I recommend you give Righteous Anger a go.

This Diva chooses to remember the past, accept the past, embrace the past, and release the past — and occasionally, throwing an intentional fit is how it’s done!

All text copyright Martine Eros 2010 except for the quoted excerpt from You Can Heal Your Life, copyright 1999 Louise L. Hay and Hay House publishing company. Permission required before reprinting the content of this article. Email dauntlessdiva@gmail.com for more information.

You Can Heal Your Life… and it IS time, now.

Dive into the stream-of-consciousness fun behind the Diva curtain… enjoy some short story goodness and humor, and learn a little about how the Diva became… a Diva.

*            *              *              *          *             *

I spent the summer of 2009 under the instruction of CA, a professional coloratura Opera singer who, and I quote one of the most famous music directors on the Eastern Seaboard, has, “The most perfect singing technique on the East Coast.”

Ironically, CA now lives in Arizona - where, according to Hamlet 2, “dreams go to die”. And up until this Summer, it was indeed where MY dreams had all met their end! In fact, before I was introduced to CA by my voice coach, the young champion baritone – SK (remember his name because he will be famous in 3 years) – I was a demoralized, defeated University student in the BA of Vocal Performance program, trying and failing repeatedly to earn admission into the BM of Voice Major.

I’m a dramatic actress, mind you, and a little diva in personality – so repeated failure to accomplish my goals put me in a major slump. I had actually begun to believe I could/would never go anywhere with my voice, that I was destined to be the Could’ve-been-who-should’ve-never-been.

And yet, I still had this amazing natural ability to soar around in the whistle register with nary a care in the world, and I knew… I just knew… there was something special about a soprano who could nail F6 over and over, and still walk away smiling.

August 2009 was the telling point. After two months studying with CA, I had begun to unlock the key to placing my voice safely for those high notes, and drawing out the richness of the lower notes… in fact, I had begun to feel like I had unlocked LA VOCE completely for the first time since I had first sung opera at age 17!

I had also worked hard all summer to avoid anything which might affect my vocal chords negatively due to my rampant allergies, including pecans, furry dogs, men’s cologne, dairy products, carpet, and all the other good and wonderful things in life!

Which is why I was devastated when on the Monday before CA’s end of term studio Master Class, I accidentally snorted Comet + Bleach.

I’ll leave the “Exactly how does one snort Comet?” to your imagination. Just picture me whirling around a kitchen, clutching my burned throat, gasping for breathe, my Betty Boops eyes bugging out of my head…. realising that I had quite possibly just undone all my hard work of the summer – less than two weeks before my final 2009 Audition for the BM Program!

I spent the next two days bashing my head against a (padded) bedroom wall and repeating in a drooling monotone, “You are stupid, you suck, you are stupid, you suck.”

Then Thursday came – and I went to CA’s Master Class where I sat in silent, burning awe (the burning part being literal) as young diva after young diva ranging in age from -200 to +19 years, stood up, performed a perfectly choreographed, vocalised piece of music, and sat down to be mobbed by all the other divas in wild support.

Then it was my turn. I stood up and warbled a faint reendition of “Ah, non credea…” and then collapsed down in my chair. I was not mobbed in wild support, but I did see CA’s large eyes flutter in wonderment and I recall her saying generously something like, “Well, that is certainly NOT Martine’s normal voice, ladies!” Not only were my vocal chords scorched, my MORALE was ashes.

I managed to get through the rest of the Master Class, even performing a half-hearted version of “Ah, non giunge…” before calling it quits for the day. That night, I cried myself to sleep. I realised that my entire summer of hard work had been jeapordized, and I considered slashing my name off the audition sign-up sheet.

The next morning after a particularly potent Green Smoothie tonic, I re-determined that giving up was NOT an option, a la Winston Churchill, and that burned vocal chords or NOT, I was going to go into that Audition and giving them everything I had to give.

August 20, 2009

Throat somewhat healed after a week of partial voice rest and warm water gargling sessions in the shower, I warmed up my vocal chords singing some rather stunning notes at CA’s house, played around with the whistle register, and shopped for an “Opera Dress” with my friend, SU. I felt ready – but more importantly, I had decided that my goal for this Audition was no longer to be admitted into the BM Program, but simply to do my absolute best, kick butt, and have FUN!

So there I stood in the hallway of Room 162, waiting for my turn to go up, when one of the Programme leaders came out and said with furrowed brow, “What are you doing here?”

Oh boy… I looked at the list of singers for the day, and yes… you’ve got it. I WAS NOT on the list! I had warmed up and dressed up on the WRONG day! Brief moment of panic, followed by quick thinking response to the Goodly Professor, who shall heretofore be referred with no gender implication whatsoever as the Dark Lord, “Well, I have to work tomorrow and you only have a couple people today – would it be okay if I sang for you today, instead?”

*stoney silence from the Dark Lord*

Followed by, “I’ll ask the others.”

The Dark Lord disappears behind the doors of Rm 162, emerges a moment later and says with a stony expression that might be perceived as disappointment with the cohorts’ conclusion: “They said go ahead.” Vanishes again.

*chills*

So I sat there (and paced, occasionally) for the next 40 minutes, waiting to be admitted for my jury. And I prayed, and softly vocalized, and re-read my sheet music for the nine millionth time, and prayed some more.

By the end of the 40 minutes, when the Dark Lord emerged from the shadows for the final time to summon me into the misty (musty) Chamber of Doom, I was ready. My knees were no longer knocking, my throat felt open and alive, and I was READY! I had decided I simply DID NOT CARE what they thought anymore and I was going to sing for ME.

I sang… but I didn’t just sing. I laughed! I flirted! I was reckless and absolute, focused but aloof. I had FUN!!! Me!? FUN in an AUDITION! And when I reached the ending of my little song and soared up to the F6, suspended there for a few seconds, then glided down to a cheerful Bb, I ENJOYED it!

And when it was finally over, I laughed and bowed twice to the Faculty. The looks on their faces were priceless. I could see my coach, SK, beaming from his chair, and the leading Doctor looked truly surprised – pleasantly surprised, dare I hope?

Then the Dark Lord moved, leaned over in his chair, and said in a half-hushed voice to his colleague, “Do we even HAVE another soprano in the School who can sing that high note?”

I went outside while they deliberated, and SK came out to hug me and tell me that I had made him proud. I hugged him back and relished the moment – because I knew without a shadow of doubt that I had given my 100%, conquered my fears of the Dark Lord and the rest of the Horde, er, Faculty – and I didn’t care at ALL what they thought of me from now on – because I knew I rocked!!!

Then the Dark Lord emerged, whipped his robe behind him, handed me a sheet of paper and mumbled something about my being put into 185V and they were disappointed in me for only singing one song, could I please bring a more varied repertoire in December.

A brief flash of disappointment crossed my mind, but I laughed it off – no! I had given my best and had a blast doing it! I stuffed the paper in my purse and went bounding out to my car, elated in the knowledge that, even though I failed to get into the BM Program, I was STILL amazing! And, I had already determined that I was better off staying in the BA anyway, so I could graduate sooner, so… who cares!?
THE END

Not quite…

Part II

(Or…What Doesn’t Make You Laugh, Makes You Scream)

So, it’s 9:20pm at my house when I finally take the time to examine the sheet of paper the Dark Lord had handed to me after the audition. At this point, I’ve already told all my family and friends that I put on a great show, but was not admitted into the BM.

That’s when I notice that the sheet of paper has me in 185V voice class, at 4 units. I am instantly upset, figuring this means they’re DROPPING me in voice class level, and still doubling the number of songs I have to memorize!!! So, I call SK, my everlastingly long-suffering voice coach.

And he quietly tells me that, no, they are NOT dropping me in voice level. “Why would a BM student take lower level voice classes, anyway?” asks SK.

It takes fourteen clicks of the old brain for me to grasp what he just said. “BM what?” I whisper in disbelieving awe.

“Dauntless,” says SK in a patient tone, “You are in the BM Program now.”

That’s when I died, went to Heaven, and then was kicked out because, and I quote St. Peter, “We only allow smart people in Heaven.”

THE REAL END

Epilogue ————— After careful deliberation of at least five minutes, Dauntless decided to accept the generous offer of the Dark Lord and his followers and join their battle against the forces of Sanity. Arizona… where dreams go to die, burn to ashes, and resurrect like the glorious Phoenix. Bring it on, Dry Desert Devoid of Deciduous Declamation (…uh… trees)!!! I’ve got your number.

— but you have no idea where to begin?

In 2007, Matt Monarch – a young Raw pioneer known for his popular TV show, The Raw Food World – wrote a guide for those seeking to transform their diets (and lives) to balanced health and longevity.

The book, Raw Success, outlines a handful of simple concepts to aid the reader in creating a sustainable 100% Raw Vegan lifestyle. Much of Monarch’s research was based off his educational relationship with Dr. Fred Bisci, a clinical nutritionist, researcher and 40-year Raw Vegan.

Raw Success seeks to answer some of the pressing questions facing raw vegans today, including…

Why aren’t Raw Food Eaters living decades longer than cooked food eaters?

Why are many Raw Foodies experiencing mineral deficiencies?

….and…

WHY do so many Raw Foodies have dental health issues?

Throughout the pages of the book, Monarch scatters a few mainstream concepts for maintaining health and avoiding some of these issues, including:

• Green Juicing (i.e., making fresh, live green vegetable juices in your home… combining ingredients strategically to gain specific effects… and drinking immediately for the best health benefits, as per Dr. Norman Walker’s juicing manuals)
• Colon cleansing (i.e., regular colonics… at home or done by a professional)
• Enzyme therapy (i.e., because we live in an era of depleted soils, we need a little help to maintain our internal enzyme balance and reduce enzyme depletion, which contributes to aging and illness)

But the area in which Raw Success separates itself from many other health, wellness and raw food books is the centerfold, a section entitled “The Science Behind It All“.

In this section, Matt uses a series of graphically-delightful images and a reader-friendly exploration of the cellular science behind why some Raw Foodies succeed in achieving optimal health… and many don’t.

Curious about Matt’s theory and Dr. Bisci’s research? Looking for ways to boost your raw vitality, increase your longevity, and enjoy better health now? Wondering what all this 100% Raw business is about, anyway?

We recommend you purchase a copy of Raw Success through the Diva’s store— then add your thoughts to the discussion in the Comments thread below.

Rating: * * *

In conclusion, the Diva gives Matt Monarch’s book Raw Success a rating of 3 out of 5 stars… Though it occasionally lacks cohesion in some chapters and parts of the introduction follow rabbit trails, all in all Monarch and the inspirational contributions of his predecessors, Dr. Fred Bisci and Dr. Norman Walker, succeed in presenting a series of methodically-tried and holistically-true plans for creating true Raw Success in our lives.