We’re Born to Die


There’s only one thing in life that is true for every human on the planet, and that is, we’re born to die.

Why I was chosen to tell you this had me baffled at the time, and if anyone would have told me that my soul’s mission was to deliver this universal truth to mankind, I would have laughed and waved them away.  But here I am, detached from your world, about to embark on a journey that to most humans would seem utterly unfathomable.  But, getting back to this truth . . . It’s something that you need to know. Understanding and accepting it won’t be easy, as it’ll go against everything you’ve been conditioned to believe. Even my students at Columbia had a difficult time understanding it, and it was pounded into their heads every day. Explaining to them that we’re born to die, and that death is what we aspire to, was like trying to explain calculus to an infant: it wasn’t happening. It’s not that they weren’t fascinated or interested in learning it; they just couldn’t grasp the concept. Of course, while teaching them, they continually hounded me to present proof, but I had no literal proof at the time, as no human does. But after studying the greatest scholars and spiritual teachers, and after traveling around the world to further my studies, I formulated a belief based upon my experiences, and that belief is: there is life after death.

And I was correct.

It was Thursday, May 3, 7:52 a.m. when they pulled the plug and declared me officially dead. But I was gone long before that. You see, when a person’s hooked-up to a life support system, it’s that system keeping their vitals alive. The spirit leaves the body before it shuts down. It knows its time is up. And that’s what happened with me. A blinding white light came into my view and when I focused on it, I was ripped out of my body. It was a moment of euphoric revelation and freedom, one that I’d like for you to envision.

I could actually feel myself rising out of the confines of my imprisonment; ripping away from my robe of flesh, separating from it, like a butterfly separating from its chrysalis.  Gone were the shackles that made me a slave to my own life; those hurts and fears that kept me unfulfilled and oppressed. I was now free from their captivity—my body left behind; that lifeless, disease-filled corpse which would soon be buried and forgotten.

Now I ask you: could any human know the exuberance of this freedom? Could they understand how a butterfly emerges from a creature that can only crawl—how its metamorphic frame can lift gracefully into the air with just the flutter of its parchment wings? My soul now understands that to be a butterfly, it must first know its beginning; the genesis of its existence and the many stages it must experience in order to arrive at its full enlightenment.

As I crossed into the dimension known as the other side, I was able to see into the life I left behind—into those endless corridors that I once roamed, searching for that one door that would open; that one door that would lead me to happiness. While alive, I couldn’t find the door; I was blinded by my struggles. But from where I am now, the truth is so clear: life isn’t a punishment that has a pointless ending. Life is for learning. It’s about rising above the atrocities and emotional pains that are self-inflicted and creating our reality from within. And death? Death is part of the reason why we’re born. It’s the prize we get for enduring the trials of life. It’s what we aspire to on an unconscious level—something that no human can escape. Death is our reprieve. It allows us to look back on our mistakes so that we can grow. And, as we cross back to our natural state of spirit, we remember this. But in the physical world, all this knowledge is forgotten. It’s pushed down and buried under layers of living—deeply filtered by our subconscious and ego. We lose our perfectness when we’re born into the physical world—to the point where we grow into hateful, vengeful, greedy beings—known as man.

You see, man was created in God’s image so that man would enhance God’s own existence; so that man would expand space and perpetuate realities through his thoughts. But the image that man was created in wasn’t just the physical aspect of God; it was the mental aspect—the workings of God’s mind . . . His ability to create. Yes, God gave man the whole package, and included in the package was the freedom to make his own decisions. It’s called free will. And even though God knew every thought and action that man would ever have, He didn’t interfere with his decisions. He let man make his mistakes. He had to; it was a part of the plan. He called it lessons, and without them, the soul wouldn’t be able to evolve to its full potential.

But despite man being created in God’s image, he wasn’t made perfect; although, man believed that he was. Man believed that he could outthink God. He believed that he was it. He believed that all his ideas and dreams were born only to him. But I’ll let you in on a secret. Every aspect of man’s mind, from the most darkest and inconceivable thoughts to the most ingenious ideas, have already been a thought in the mind of God. Even man’s emotions were given to him for a reason. He didn’t just summons them into his gut; they’re a part of his navigational system—to guide him. When man gets off track with God, he feels sadness and a lack of purpose. Man was supposed to question these feelings so that God could guide him onto his path, but he didn’t. Instead, he disillusioned himself into believing that his sadness was caused from an outside source, such as lack of money or lack of love, but that was just his ego masking the truth. Man didn’t want to accept that there was something bigger and better than him. And although he knew it deep down, he chose not to deal with it by telling himself that if God were real then life would be perfect; and this gave him the reason to keep his ego alive. It made him powerful. It made him feel in control. But deep within man’s soul was a fact that he would never understand while in the physical world: he only existed because he was a part of the plan.

Yes, God deliberately made man. He gave him the ability to create his outside world through his thoughts. He gave him the power to communicate with Him by using a special part of his brain—the part that’s hidden behind his eyes, located between the two hemispheres. It’s what the prophets spoke of for thousands of years. It’s called the Pineal, and it’s the key that unlocks supernatural doors, enabling man to cross the threshold of the physical world to step into the beyond.

You see, man always had the ability to connect with God while living in the physical world, but he chose not to figure it out; because figuring it out would make him work too hard for something that he wasn’t sure of—for something that he couldn’t see or touch. It was knowledge that was innate, just waiting to be tapped into. God didn’t want it kept as a secret. He wanted man to reach for Him for all his answers, but man didn’t. He chose to look elsewhere, and God knew that this would happen. He knew that man would take the ring and run with it, believing that he had all the control.

Man indulged his ego to the point of self destruction. He allowed money, sex, and power to dictate his life. He blamed his decisions on his right to pursue happiness. He told himself that he had to take care of number one. His hypocritical reasoning used the idea of God when his life was good, and when his life was in chaos, he blamed God for deserting him. Man became cocky and shunned the one thing that was there for him all along. Not only didn’t man revere God, he no longer believed in Him.

What I’m about to tell you may fill you with uncertainty and apprehension. God isn’t some celestial ruler created by a bunch of religious scholars. And while all you people have been living a lie, living in your ego-filled worlds, an ethereal plan has been unfolding; a plan that will make the Book of Revelations look like a child’s tale.

Know this: Man was given two paths to choose from. He listened to his ego. Now they’re both going to pay.




YO, Adrianne. That’s right. I have a New York Accent

I’m Valentine deFrancis, and I’m a writer from New York. Today, I would like to talk to you about stereotypes and how a typical New Yorker is stereotyped as, well, not so bright. Now I know that TV and movies depict New Yorkers as sausage eating, money hungry, pushy, arrogant, gangster-leaning types, but of all those things, what gets me the most is how our intelligence is based upon our accents. It’s true.  Hey, listen. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Yeah. That’s right. Brooklyn—the pizza capital of the world; the place where John Travolta struts his bad-ass self in Saturday Night Fever. Yep, that’s where I was raised. But here is where the whole thing starts going uphill. People naturally think that New Yorkers are not sophisticated because we have that accent. Know what I mean? Let me educate you on our wordage, if I may.

The entire U. S. says the word coffee as follows:  caa fee

A New Yorker says  caw fee.

The entire U. S. says the word water as:  waa ter

A New Yorker says  waw ta

The U. S. says hello

A New Yorker says yo, whas up?

The U. S. says, forget about it.

A New Yorker says fuhgeddaboudit

The U. S. says, thirty third and third

A New Yorker says tirdy tird and tird

But people, does that make us stupid?

I was speaking to some friends from Myspace on the phone and each one of them giggled at my accent. Each one of them said, “Gee Val, I never expected you to sound so New Yorkish.”
Heck, people. What the hell am I supposed to sound like? A Frenchie? A Brit? A Korean? I’m a New Yorker! I’m supposed to sound this way, but that doesn’t negate my brilliance. Did I mention that New Yorkers are also very modest?
Just because I have this Brooklyn accent doesn’t mean that I was raised in a cabbage patch. Oh contrare, my lovelies. This Brooklyn native is quite intelligent and more than on her toes. You have to wake up prit-ty darn early to get over on me or any New Yorker for that matter. Get a load of this little diddy that happened two days before I flew out to Vegas last week.

I went online to purchase my plane tickets, and I happened to notice that you can buy extra leg room for $30.00 per person. I’m 5’7″, and the boyfriend is 6″, so I say to myself . . . great. I’ll buy the seats with the extra leg room. Who cares about the $30.00 per person. I need to be comfortable when I’m flying. Of course, my boyfriend doesn’t care where he sits because he’s a commercial pilot, and he’s used to sitting anywhere. So I buy the seats with the extra leg room.

Twenty-four hours before my flight, I print the boarding passes, and I see a little notation that advertises the extra leg room seats for $10 per seat. I say to my New York self, WTF? They ain’t rippin’ me off. So I call them, and this is the brilliant answer I get.

JetBlue, my name is Betty, how can I help you today?

Yes, I purchased two seats to Las Vegas, and I paid $30.00 per person for the extra leg room seats. I just printed my boarding passes and noticed that you are now selling the extra leg room for $10.00 per seat. I want my account credited for $40.00.

Let me check that for you ma’am.

I tap my pen and begin to softly hum, and then she comes back on the line.

Ms. deFrancis, the reason you were charged $30.00 per seat is because you have a longer flight time.

I laugh out loud.

Let me get this straight. I am charged more money for the same seat because I will be on the plane for an hour more? What kind of nonsense is that?

Well, Ms. deFrancis, if you think about it, it makes sense.

Oh it does, does it? Explain how.

Well, your legs will be stretched out for a longer duration, she says.

I bulge my eyes and shake my head, wondering if I heard her correctly.

Repeat that again?

Yes, Ms. deFrancis. Because you are using the plane’s seat longer, we charge you more.

I stare at my refrigerator for approximately 3 seconds before my New York attitude kicks in. Where are you located, Betty?

I’m located in Utah, she says.

Hmmm, Utah. Well, let me tell you something, Betty, from Utah. Do you expect me to buy that line of shit? Is that what JetBlue tells you to tell your customers, or are you just winging it? I have never been so insulted. What kind of crap is that? The plane and the seats are still the plane and the seats whether I fly to Florida or Vegas. So you’re saying that because I stretch my legs for 2 hours more, I’m charged for it?

Well, umm, yes Ms. deFrancis. That’s our policy.


Ummm, I can see you’re upset, she says.

No Betty, I’m not upset. I’m insulted at your pathetic attempt to demean my intelligence with that absurd answer.

She giggles.

I hang up on her.

Now people, tell me. Did that make any sense to you? I may have a New York accent, but I don’t hear with an accent. Geesh, give me a break!

I Lived Two Centuries Ago

I could see from where I was standing that the sun was just peeking over the water’s horizon. It looked as though a blaze of orange was emerging from the ocean; almost as if God was pulling it up by invisible strings. 
The smell of the salty, warm sea air, as I breathed in deeply, reminded me of when I was a little girl, when my family used to have picnics on the shores of Long Island. No memory could compare to those days of freedom; nothing could come close to the feeling of the security that I felt when I was with my mother and father. 

I poured myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and let the screen door slam behind me as I proceeded to walk onto the beach. There wasn’t anyone around but me; the silence was welcomed, even in spite of the ocean’s roar. It was as if it was saying something to me; taunting me with each rush it made to the shoreline. I took a sip of my coffee and reveled in its hazelnut sweetness, and thanked God to be having the experience that I was having at that precise moment.

The sky was violet; I say violet to emphasize the clarity of its blueness. White formations floated above, making me think that something as beautiful as this could only be appreciated when you appreciate life—when you step away and let yourself be. My dreams are like the clouds—forever and ethereal, and they remind me that I am more than this space that I occupy.

Closing my eyes, and letting myself be, allows me to align with Him; my thoughts are of pureness and deep revelation; a contentment which goes deeper than any gratification could offer. It’s a freedom from this world. It’s a flight of my senses that goes beyond fleshly recognition.

I began to walk; my feet sinking deeply with each step I took. Seashells stared up at me, begging for my attention. The tiny, white ones were the ones that I picked up because the sun had made them glisten, like tiny diamonds. Nowhere in my world is there a place as perfect as this. A lifetime ago made itself known, just as it always does. The memory never leaves me when I set my imagination and soul free from these prison walls called now. 

A black and yellow butterfly graciously floats past me, and then lands on the sand a few feet ahead. And as I get closer to it, it lifts off in slow motion and gently brushes against my arm. Seagulls fly above; their cries bring me back to that time, and again, I can’t remember when that was. I only know that I was there and that I would never forget it.

My soul will never be complete. It hungers for yesterday and begs for tomorrow. It searches for newness, yet seeks the comfort of familiarity. Gin Lane is where I once lived over two centuries ago.



Step right up folks and witness the miraculous handy, dandy steamer cleaner. You’ve never seen anything like this before in your life.
Yes people, this handy, dandy steamer cleaner will clean any surface anywhere in your home, boat, car, and office.
Yes, with this handy, dandy steamer cleaner, you will steam your way to health. Just aim, spray, and let it disinfect the germs and dirt away. It slices, it dices, it cooks your meals, takes the wrinkles out of your clothes, disinfects the toilets, makes the bed, feeds the kids, satisfies the hubby, and it can be all yours if you act fast.

Yes, people, for only 3 easy payments of $33.33, you can have this miracle cleaner and all of the attachments, but you’ll have to act fast. And if you act now, we will throw in the floor kit so that you can mop away your cares. And if that’s not enough to make you pick up your phone, we’ll even make the first payment for you. THAT’S RIGHT! YOU HEARD IT CORRECTLY. That means that this handy,dandy,miracle steamer cleaner and all its attachments, and the floor kit, and the hubby pleaser will be yours –all for only 2 convenient payments of $33.33. But you got to order now. Our operators are standing by. Please have your credit card ready.


It’s a good thing I couldn’t find a pen.

Ooh, gotta go. Cindy Crawford is coming on and she has instant face lift in a jar.

Black Friday is a plot, I tellya

Black Friday. Why is the Friday after Thanksgiving called that? Why didn’t they name it Red Friday or Shop-till-you-drop Friday? Does anyone know? Well, I know. The Friday after Thanksgiving, and all the super-duper discounts that the retailers are giving, is a plot. That’s right. It’s nothing more than a psychological plot created by the retailers to ensure that they stay out of the red. Seriously. Are we that naive? The retailers should be giving us these so-called miraculous discounts throughout the year. Maybe if they did, they wouldn’t panic at the end of the year.
They give these tremendous, hurry-to-the-mall, discounts because they’re clearing out all their inventory for the year. In other words, they’re desperate to show an increase on their ledger sheets; whereby, keeping their books in ‘the black’ instead of being in the ‘red’. Get it? They named the Friday after Thanksgiving, Black Friday, as a symbol for staying profitable. Clever. Yes. Now I see. Maybe everyone knows this and I’m the last one to figure it out, but just in case you didn’t know it, now you do.

They have to get up prit-ty early in the morning to get over on this chickie. Hey, wait. They did.

You’re living in a trailer while they get rich off of you

I don’t know how this world got to be so out of balance, but I think everyone needs to take a step back and reevaluate who’s in control. First, I’d like you to answer these few questions.

1–Who puts the president into office?
2–Who makes movie stars and musicians famous?
3–Who shops in all the stores in this country?
4–Who buys gas at the gas stations?

If you’ve answered, WE THE PEOPLE, then you’re half way there. If we can make these institutions rich, and give them power and control, then we can take it away just as easily. It is this nation, as a whole, who’s given the government, the media, the retailer, not to mention the oil refineries, their wealth. We’ve let the government take over our lives. They tax our income and after they tax our income, we have to claim the interest that we earn on our savings. They tax our land, our bridges and tunnels, and they tax our utilities. What isn’t taxed? Now here’s my question. Why are we being taxed on things that have been paid for a thousand times over?

Let’s take the Verrazano Bridge in Staten Island, NY, for example. Now, two years ago, statistics said that on the average, 195,000 cars travel over the Verrazano each day. Now, each year or just about, the cost to cross the Verrazano is raised. It now costs 11 dollars to cross the bridge. If we take 195,000 cars per day and times it by 11 dollars, that would make $2,145,000.00 that the bridge brings in each day. Now, if we take $2,145,000 a day and times it by 365 days in a year then that would be a total of $7,829,250,000.00 HELLLLOOOOOOO? That’s for one year, and I didn’t even factor in vehicles with more than four axles or increase in traffic.
This bridge has been open since 1964. If we allow for population growth and toll increases throughout the years, well, do I really have to spell it out for you? What have they done with all this money? And here’s the kicker . . . Staten Island residents have to pay the toll, as well. The only benefit we get by being a resident is that we pay half price. Well I say phooey! We pay property taxes, city taxes, sneezing taxes, and don’t forget the farting taxes. Isn’t that enough?

I’m sick of seeing money being spent on power struggles. I’m sick of seeing it being wasted on war. I say, screw the war and let’s start taking care of us. We need help. We need to reconstruct the system. We have to help those who are less fortunate. Who gives a shit about fighting? We’re all going to die sooner or later. Why fight over power. It’s just a phallic thing for these assholes.
Come on guys. We are the ones giving these people the power. If we would stick together and exercise our right to choose, they would crumble. Don’t you see? We have choices. We can vote or not vote. We can buy from a retailer or not buy. We hold the power. Think about it. If we exercise our right to choose, they’ll go down. And they will. Because history always repeats itself.

You’re NOTHIN’ without your money

Will somebody please explain this to me. Why do people with money look down at the rest of us?

I got to thinking about this last night. I woke up about 3 a.m. with this very profound thought. I don’t know where it came from–perhaps I was dreaming and it woke me? Anyway, I woke up picturing a huge stage where several rich people were standing in a line. There wasn’t an audience, and there weren’t any props.
Then, one by one, each of them had their money taken away. Their jewelry vanished. Their homes and cars were gone. All the people in their lives, who kissed up to them because of their wealth, walked away. They were stripped of everything except of their clothes. Suddenly they were like all the rest of us, and they felt belittled and ashamed. Their heads hung as the harsh truth washed over them.

They were now faced with the understanding that their money was the only factor in giving them their value. Without their money, they weren’t important. They couldn’t buy favors. They couldn’t buy friendships. And even worse, they couldn’t buy their character.

Someone tell me, please. Do people with money actually believe that they’re above the rest? Or did they forget that their money is what buys them their power? I have to be honest. I have been around very wealthy people who had about as much class as a first-grader. Their homes and cars were messy and their intelligence and attitudes lacked finesse. The fact that they had money wasn’t a bad thing, but somewhere down the line they lost their humbleness and believed that they were above reproach. Well, I have two words to say on that . . . bull poopie!

There are millions of people who aren’t rich, who are brilliantly gifted in various areas of life, who shine way above some of these rich folks. Don’t let anyone fool you. A small percent of Americans are wealthy, but does that mean that they’re better then everyone else because of it?

I want everyone in this world to be wealthy. I believe that there is enough to go around. But really, people, if you get money, remember one thing. If the day ever comes where you’re standing on a stage, getting stripped down to the bare truth, don’t come running to those who you’ve treated poorly. Learn the value of life. Step away from the money and take a long, hard look around. We come in this world without it, and we leave without it. What does that make a rich person? It makes them just like the rest of us.

Take every human on this planet and line them up shoulder to shoulder. Strip them of everything. Do you know what you’d have? You’d have equality! That’s what you’d have.

Hey, I don’t wake up in the middle of the night for nothing. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.