Brenda-Lee Ranta composed her first poem at the age of seven. Throughout her life, she used prose as a means of logging her experiences in a life which has been under ‘constant construction.’
Amazing to her, is that at the age of 58, CTU Publishing Group published her first book, “Myriad of Perceptions,” to be followed by “Allegories – a thirst for connection.” It was for her, a life changing experience, taking her from journal writing to giving her words a life beyond herself. Her two books also were awarded five-star reviews from Readers Favorite.
Brenda-Lee shares her journey with her soul mate, Hugh Dysart, also a published poet, lyricist and musician. They are parents to their collective five children and grandchildren. They live a life dedicated to each other, their kids, pets and their shared artforms.
Here is an excerpt from
It was a fall day in October. Brandi sat at her desk at work, turned on her computer; noticing her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Tightness filled her chest, panic enveloping her. She found herself in the ladies washroom, sitting on the terrazzo floor, trembling, crying, unable to catch her breath. Terrified, she felt like she was having a heart attack; as though someone was sitting on her chest. She didn’t know how to get back to her desk and function. The trembling would not stop, a painful tightness in her chest; she found herself in the emergency room at the hospital. Belinda met her there. After running a series of tests, she met with a crisis worker. The attending physician later deemed it necessary to have at least two weeks off work. He explained panic attacks and physical exhaustion. It was the beginning of what began a year off work; Brandi was unable to even leave her house again for three months.
After a few days at home. Brandi attempted to go out to buy groceries. While getting dressed, she became so full of anxiety with a ringing in her ears that she fainted in the hallway. Her son found her, helping her to bed. From that day forward, one of her children had to accompany her for banking or shopping. She was incapable of standing in any lineups to finish any transactions. Her hands would tremble so badly, it was humiliating. She would cry without warning, tears streaming down her face in a public place. Attending the doctor’s office sent her into panic. The receptionist was kind enough to place her in a room down the hallway, away from everyone, in order to see the doctor. Placed on short term disability, she said out loud, “I am officially crazy!”
Drew would chat online; his alcoholism out of control, repeating himself, typing on some days, illegible. The energy between them, growing, permeating her already fragile state of being. In spiritual speak, this time would be termed, “the dark night of the soul.” Up half the night in meditation, crying herself to sleep, taking medications that made her feel like a zombie. Either filled with emotion or devoid of feeling anything, sleeping for hours or up all night. Brandi wondered around her house, a ghost of her former self. “Where am I going? What are my dreams?” This was alien to her, having protected herself emotionally, for so long; the Levi had finally broken.
Someone find me
I am lost in a labyrinth
of darkness, lost in it’s depths
I am a blind woman,
feeling my way in the dark
please lead me to light
lend me your torch
A dear friend intervened, offering to come to Brandi’s house to instruct her in beginner’s yoga and breath work. She explained how it would teach her inner calmness, providing her with the opportunity to get in touch with her inner self to deal with her anxiety.
Continued in book . . .
A Soul Passenger–Now Available
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