Religion is a topic that is undeniably universal. Every country, every city, every state, every island, and every continent has its own spiritual beliefs. There are many holy books, countless different faiths, numerous practices and rituals. In all of my research, over the years, I have found that there is a common message amongst them all.

The message is one of love and kindness. A noesis of knowledge, wisdom, and an understanding of that which you have learned. It's about not speaking upon topics that you do not have concrete knowledge about. Instead, seeking insight and truth so you may educate others with facts. I've found, it is also common, that if you don't follow these simple guidelines, you will have to be sacrificed. We cannot allow someone to spread hate and ignorance amongst the people. I call my spiritual journey Rainbows and Bunnies. It's my explanation of personal success. A continuous journey of drops and hops. It's the Jay Kaz way.

~ The Beginning ~

I've never been into the whole ‘church’ thing. As a kid we only went on holidays, unless Bubba and Pap-Pap were taking us with them, for one reason or another. However, that changed after my parents divorced. My father married himself a nice Christian woman. Regular attendance at church and youth group was now mandatory.

It was so fake. The adults words, they didn't match their actions. They would gossip about a 'friend’ then smile in her face, welcoming her as she walked through the main door. Dad asleep during the sermon, our new stepmom poking him in the side as he began to snore. I was young, a teenager, but I knew it was a crock. I refused to be part of such a masquerade. My father and I ‘broke up’, not speaking to each other again for many years to come.

~ Broken Hearts ~

I was 26 when I met Jeff. He was a broken and sad soul, as was I. We found comfort in each other, knowing we shared a deep and painful sadness. Sitting at the local bar together, drinking our troubles away. I guess it was good in the beginning. At least at the time it felt better, however, the ‘happy’ didn't last very long.

I remember the first time he put his hands on me. He was upset I had cheated on him. He only knew about my unfaithful act because I was feeling guilty and decided to be honest with him. My honesty didn't matter, he choked me till the blood vessels in my face popped and I pissed on myself. He would remain 'upset’ for the next two years. The physical abuse becoming a nightmare that I didn't have to close my eyes to experience.

Boom! I was struck, over my head, with a glass bottle of vodka. Boom! My head...