Posted by: Artsy Squibbles | September 26, 2006

LONGRIDERS, Big Dreams…Documentary (repost)

Wishes are horses with wings? If pigs could fly? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?

What am I talking about?

Creating a documentary? Helping instigate a dream that has been waiting in the wings of my soul for several years now. Why? Read the previous posts.

Here is what I’ve done today.

And so I am trying to post the letter I wrote and have sent to three people thus far. Copy this and send it on to as many people as you think would be interested.


Dear Stephen,
May I call you by your first name? Good morning. My name is Kristine. I am a single parent, artist, playwright in progress, and dreamer of big dreams. Utilitarian, attempting to be humanitarian, utilizing every resource available. I see you as one piece in this puzzle called life.
Potential Scenario…troubled teens becoming Longriders. Training, responsibility for self and others, love and nurturing (a learned experience) required to survive on a thousand mile trip across country. Pit stops to share this experience through the arts at libraries, and other free venues along the way. With film, personal documentation, music (what’s a journey on horseback without a harmonica or guitar), photographic, illustrated, poetry, literature, journaling, how would a group of maybe fifteen troubled teenagers progress? Think about all the possibilities.
After this, please make note that this is not just some fashionable dream to save a group of teenagers. My health would likely not allow me to participate in such an endeavor. The intent is to establish a turning point in the system and how it has become an ineffective piece of shit!
Think along these points for just a few minutes.
If you had an opportunity to escape an environment that was keeping you from growing emotionally, though you couldn’t name it as such, if that place were available for a short time, a space where you could connect with the true inner self, through nature, through responsibility, and guidance from a non threatening source…would you go?
If this was your last chance before going into a violent and corrupt system created by adults…
If this was the only way that you might learn how to love unconditionally…and so accept unconditional love…
Thank you. I am a nobody with my breathe as my credentials.
Please help me.
I believe these folks listed here would be interested in helping.
Charlie Rose. Brian Adams. Bruce Springsteen, Willie Nelson. Tina Turner, Cher, Kevin Spacey, Patti La Belle, Anne Murray, Joni Mitchell, and yes, and even William Shatner.
The Breeder’s Cup, Churchill Downs, National Rodeo Association, along with other associations related to the horse industry are potential sources of support.
Microsoft, Bill Gates, PBS, various medical associations from Pediatrics to Psychiatry, just to name a few.
I realize you want something more tangible than a dream to work with. A Mission statement, a format, anything more than this email…
All I have are a bunch of hand written notes from the last five years…and a mouthful of wishes.
Are you exited? Even remotely interested?
What I wonder, is how many groups of teenagers on the verge of becoming adults could we help. And in so doing, how many would be enabled to help others. Our footprints on nature, our hands reaching across an emotional divide, our hearts reaching into a space that is uncharted with only one word…trust, as the guide to opening an entirely new existence to the word reality.
I’m glad I ran across your name at Trigger Street. Maybe the artists here would help as well. How many of these writers, photographers, editors, students, parents, teens, innumerable personalities could help this become something desirable and beneficial across the planet.
How many Long riders are waiting? How many would become the extraordinary individuals they were created to become?
Thank you for your time.

So the dream has finally been offered up to the Universe. The prayer has been lifted from my soul and flies about like Pegasus, more than a whim, more than a wish, but an ethereal hope searching for a place to land. Parnassus is not far from here.

You wonder, why this direction, for those of you that have read my old posts and seen me thrash my way through this computer maze. Because this is from my heart, this is my inner soul crying out for others to help with what I cannot do by myself.

I can get a day job, night job, dream about screenwriting, playwriting, sculpting and designing, and it does me not a bit of good when there are other things out there that need my assistance just as badly as I need theirs.

I love my family. I want this family to succeed as a complete team. Not some unstable individual out for myself scenario that is perceived by so many other cultures. My light, small as it is, wills itself into this tiny flame, casting light on one small corner that in the long run can have an effect on a larger area of this planet. It sounds egotistical, but what if the future President of the United States is waiting for us to help him find that eloquent voice that has been buried beneath anger and abuse. What if the next Einstein is buried beneath poverty and hunger and so cannot focus on the task at hand. What if the next Florence Nightingale, Condoleeza Rice, Princess Diana, Mother Theresa, Hillary Clinton or Marie Curie, is hiding beneath a stairwell crying into broken dreams that where ripped from her hands by some arrogant fourth year. What if.

What if a small program were made available to help troubled teens become what they are capable of becoming. What if…what if ! What if I post my letter. What if I breathe love your way.

What if I trust one more person. What if one more person trusts me. What if I put my anger to the side and use my energy to tweak this screwed up system of ours into something manageable. I could if you helped. Yeah, me, I may not be the most intelligent gal on the block, but what I do know and what I do see, and what I do feel is that there is something seriously wrong with this world and I know that I am not doing enough. Are you? Join me.


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