Through one of my closest friends, The Gift of Samuel: Grey Dawn made it into the hands of Mrs. Vancil, the 8th grade teacher at Volta. Mrs. Vancil liked the book so much that she asked if any of her students would like to read it on a voluntary basis. Many of the students were curious and ended up reading the book. I was fortunate enough to spend some time with them after they read it.

I got to the school having no idea what to expect. That said, I was extremely excited and nervous to hear what the kids had to say. This was the first group of young adults, near the age of the protagonist in the story, to read the book. I hoped they identified with Joshua, his emotions, and how he approached various issues before him in the story. This meeting was a big deal. If these young adults did not connect with Joshua, then I would have missed the mark. On the other hand, if they liked the book, then I would have achieved what I set out to do.

As I waited in line with the head of security to print out my visitor badge, I couldn’t help but feel the energy of the kids scampering around me. The building was full of energy; there were kids everywhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a group of four kids kind of huddled together, looking at me. Once I received my visitor pass, I turned to the group, who were suddenly walking towards me. I noticed my book in their hands.

“You’re the author of this book, right?” one of the kids asked.

“Yep, that’s me.” I said.

“We all love this book, and we can’t wait for the next one!”

“Awesome! Thanks guys! See you in a little bit for our group discussion?”

“We’ll be there!” They said as they ran off, up the stairs.

A sense of relief washed over me. I didn’t know the number of students meeting with me that morning, but I knew at least four of them liked the book.

The group discussion with the kids was incredible. They were curious, excited, shy, and innocent. But above all that, they were intuitive, asking me deep and engaging questions. As I answered their questions and we embarked on discussing various topics, I was filled with a joy that’s hard to describe. These 14-year-old students have so much life in front of them. It made me think of what I was like at that age, getting ready to graduate 8th grade. I was terrified. Looking back, I wish I understood the importance of being excited about the opportunity that was ahead of me as I entered high school.

Suddenly, I knew the ultimate message I wanted to convey. I wanted these kids to embrace their lives ahead of them. I wanted them to face all of their fears and challenges with open minds and open hearts, trusting that all will work out exactly as it’s supposed to, if they just have faith. It’s taken me nearly forty-eight years to realize that fear isn’t something to dread or avoid. Fear is an opportunity to grow, to realize your potential. You just have to find the courage to face your fears. It took me writing and publishing this book to come to this realization. I wanted to be an inspiration not only for them but for all young adults who are uncertain about the future.

Near the end of our meeting, one of the kids asked me what the best part was of writing this book. Was it holding the first draft in my hands? Was it holding the finished product in my hands? Was it the first five-star review of my book?

Francisco, Krishna, Collin, Keziah, Ananya, Lesly and Brissia – I meant every word I said in our meeting and in my answer to that last question — meeting you and spending our time together, talking about life, dreams, overcoming fear, believing that love conquers all, and that no one person has more worth than another, that was, and is, the best part of writing this book. Seeing the looks in your eyes, sharing the excitement of talking about the opportunities in front of you, and having a mindset that nothing is insurmountable, that elation I felt far surpasses any other joy associated with publishing this book. You are our future and I’m honored and humbled that you read my book, enjoyed the story, and received the messages contained therein.

I sincerely thank each and every one of you for giving me that joy. Thank you, Sean and Mrs. Vancil, for coordinating such a meaningful event. I look forward to seeing all of you again down the road and in that golden opportunity we call the future.

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As I gazed, I understand that Samuel was one of the moons. He was the largest moon of the group in the sky. And his importance could not be understated. He, as that moon, was a symbol of unconditional love, forgiveness, kindness, joy and generosity. He was a noble and strong leader and I looked to him for inspiration and support.

Next to him, also in the sky, I could see a timeline of his life, from his birth to his death. In the timeline, there were various events that took place. As I looked over these events, I noticed that his death would come at a time much too soon for his age. He was going to die in his mid to late 20s and he would not live to see or experience the gift of growing old and living a long life.

My heart sunk, and I was desperate to save him. I reasoned that if I was able to see the timeline of his life, with various junctures and events that would lead, one after the other, to his eventual death, perhaps I could change some of those events. Perhaps I could make it so that I would be able to save him and avoid his untimely passing.

Accordingly, I got work. Simply with the with the power of thought, I was able to maneuver events in his life, trying to find the right combination so that Samuel’s death at such a young age would be avoided. I rearranged the outline in the sky and would re-work it out, over and over. Each time, no matter what I did, Samuel would die at that same age and point. I don’t know how many times I did this, but it felt like hundreds, if not thousands. Despite my efforts and my burning desire to save him, his young and untimely death was inevitable.

I eventually gave up, accepting that he was going to die at that point, but still carrying a great amount of sadness, wishing that he would live longer.

Here, I would be remiss to not mention the story of Macbeth. When I awoke from the dream, I instantly thought of this work by Shakespeare. I thought of the prophecy from the witches of Macbeth’s death and the various events that would lead up to his death, and how he was sure they could not happen. Or, how we would do whatever he could to make sure that they wouldn’t happen. And yet, they happened. There was nothing anyone could have done to avoid what was meant to be.

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When my recurring dreams of Samuel transformed into a story, I knew in my head and my heart that it was a trilogy. However, with the first book’s release, I was purposefully quiet about this fact. Logic dictated that the chances of the first novel being a success were exceptionally slim. For starters, I was the least likely person to write a good book. They say that good writers are voracious readers, and I was not well read. In fact, I spent most of my life avoiding books whenever possible, as I struggled with all things related to words, reading, writing, and spelling. Numbers made sense to me, and I excelled in math. Two plus two always equaled four, while what’s considered “reasonable” to one could mean something completely different to another.

Given the high probably of book one’s failure, I saw no need to further embarrass myself by announcing that the novel was the first of three. The possibility of publishing one book that no one enjoyed carried enough risk of humiliation; there was no need to add potential insult to injury by publicizing that two more equally lame products were in the works.

Then I had my first review from a beta reader, a cousin of mine, who I knew would give it to me straight. “I loved it,” she emphatically told me. “I couldn’t put it down and didn’t want it to end. There’s got to be a second book, right? I need to know what happens!” From there, the reception from future readers and reviewers echoed the same sentiments. The first book didn’t suck. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was a good book and readers wanted the rest of the story!

With my initial fear abated, it was time to update the book’s website and back cover, let it be publicly known that The Gift of Samuel: Grey Dawn was the first of three books. In doing so, I contemplated using this as the opportunity to also tell everyone why I am writing the trilogy and my ultimate goal with this endeavor. That’s when the logical, never satisfied critic, deep inside me, whispered in my ear, reminding me of the magnitude of embarrassment that awaited me in taking such action.

Like it or not, we are a culture obsessed with odds. I get it. Measuring probability is rational. It makes sense. It gives us a sense of security, of knowing the unknowable. If Joe Baseball Player has a .310 batting average against right-handed pitchers over his ten-year carrier versus a .210 batting average against lefties, odds are ten percent greater he’ll get a hit facing a righty. 12 out of every 100 drivers hit a deer every year, so you might want to consider comprehensive car insurance, not just liability insurance. Two plus two always equals four.

This brings me to the second reason I was sure I would fail. The odds are 1 in 10,000, a 0.01% chance, that I will make enough money with The Gift of Samuel to make ends meet without having to subsidize my income with another job. The odds are 1 in 100,000, a 0.00001% chance, that The Gift of Samuel will someday be a household name. Why even try with these kinds of odds? It would make much more sense to let the dream go, save myself the time, money, energy, and frustration of completing the trilogy and focus my attention on my day job. Plus, it’s safer not putting myself out there for the ridicule and embarrassment of failing and becoming another casualty of the odds. But I cannot play it safe.

I wrote The Gift of Samuel: Grey Dawn, and will complete the trilogy, because I want everyone to know that I’m in flawed like everyone else. I am weak more often that I care to admit. I have doubts on many levels. I’ve failed and I’ve let people down. Yet, I am writing and publishing these books because I want to give people a sense of hope with this fictional story. Moreover, I want people to be inspired by what I’m doing in my real life. Despite all of my shortcomings and the impossible odds, I was able to persevere and was able to make enough money to make ends meet with The Gift of Samuel. From that perseverance and that willingness to take a chance, my goal is to be able to quit my day job so I can become a greater instrument of love, in some other capacity, that is yet to be determined. I wrote The Gift of Samuel to beat the odds and inspire others to follow in my footsteps.

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Specifically, what happened in the scenario, itself, was pretty terrifying. I was the leader of a small band of people, maybe a dozen, trying to survive during Grey Dawn. We were all dirty, tired, starving, and scared. We were on the move, being chased by what you could call a monster, even though it really wasn’t a monster. It was a man, but he was bigger than most men, his muscles were bulging, he had sharp teeth like a dog or a wolf. That said, nothing compared to the aura of aggression that he exhibited. He was a terror to see and even a greater terror to face (This man eventually inspired the character of Leon in The Gift of Samuel.).

I was leading these people away from Leon, trying to hide from him. Despite my efforts, he eventually caught us. He growled at us, demanding that the leader step forward. I reluctantly took a step and he pulled something out from behind him and put it in front of me in his hand. It was some type of fruit, maybe an apple or something that I could take a bite of directly where I could eat the skin.

He demanded in his deep and rasping voice that I take a bite of the fruit to taste it. I looked around to the others and they only offered blank stares. They gave me no advice and no inkling as to what I should do. Terrified of what he would do if I disobeyed him, I took a bite.

Once I chewed and swallowed the bite, Leon became enraged. He chastised me for not being strong enough to defy him. He threw me down to the ground and began to obliterate me. At that point, I came out of my body and witnessed the beating as if I was an outside spectator, but I was definitely looking at myself. Leon beat me with his large fists and bite at me with his sharp teeth, while the others stood in horror, wondering if they were next.

Suddenly, I left the scene, and was with Samuel, where the two of discussed what did I do wrong. I was too afraid. I needed to be courageous. Suddenly, boom, I’m back in the scene, standing in front of Leon, with him demanding that I take a bite of this fruit to taste it. Again, I looked to the ones behind me, who gave no direction. I remembered what happened the first time and to be courageous, so this time, I refused to take a bite, but I’m still terrified.

As soon as I refused, he threw the fruit to the side and yelled at me, chastising me for daring to disobey him. Again, he threw me down, again, I snapped out of my body, and again I watched from an outside perspective as he beat me to death.

Again, I left the scene and was joined by Samuel where we discussed how I could have done something differently to avoid the brutal outcome. Now, I was frustrated. “I do what he tells me, he kills me,” I protested. “I get up to nerve to refuse to do what he tells me, he kills me. It’s a no-win situation.”

Samuel, in his usual calm and insightful nature, encouraged me to think outside of just those two possibilities. “He’s demanding for your take a bite to taste it,” Samuel said. “Is either taking a bite or not really the only two options you have?”

Boom, I’m back in my body in front of Leon who is demanding that I take a bite of this fruit to taste it. I know what options one and two lead to, and I don’t want to die. I can feel Samuel encouraging me to be strong, to think outside the box.

In that moment I felt the fear leave me, even though this man was three times my size and I had already twice witnessed him bludgeon me to death. I took the fruit out of his hand, and I told him, “You want to know what thing tastes like so bad, why don’t you eat it.” and I shoved the fruit in his mouth.

I watched in disbelief as Leon has an allergic reaction to the fruit and begins to choke to death from his tongue and throat swelling. Finally, he toppled over with a loud thud, dead, with me and my people saved.

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As we turned the corner, someone in even more pain was lying on the ground. They were covered with a blanket from the waist up. Next to the blanket was a basket. The basket was empty, but the implication was there, calling out, “please help me.” This person under the blanket was moaning and his legs we’re moving slowly trying to comfort his soul.

And the legs were…. deformed. Not only were they bowlegged, but there was something wrong with them that was more severe. It was some type of disease. I was sure this person was dying. It was while I was taking in the legs and their grotesque nature that everything went black.

Suddenly I’m in the kitchen with several other people. Their faces are dirty too, but their expressions are light and inviting. I can smell the spices of the food that’s cooking and the anticipation of the meal we are about to enjoy and he’s got my mouth salivating. Sitting next to me a beautiful girl. This situation was getting better by the minute.

As we all prepare the table, a young man enters the room and instantly I’m drawn to him. It’s as if he glows. Like the pain and suffering that I had seen on the street just moments ago couldn’t touch him. He was smiling and gave off an aura of acceptance and genuine friendship.

I wasn’t the only one that was drawn to him. Everyone else was excited to see him. Everyone was happy. From the vantage point where I was sitting, I could only see him from the waist up. As he rounded the corner to shake my hand, that’s the first time that I saw his legs and realized this was the man that was out on the street covered with a blanket laying on the ground.

But it couldn’t be. That man was moaning in pain. He was dying. This man I was meeting, he was alive, vibrant. But his legs didn’t lie. This was definitely the same man from before.

We sat down to eat, and before I could even get in the first spoonful, there’s a bang at the door. Everyone is instantly on high alert. The bang comes again, louder. Someone gets up and walks to the door in a manner like their bodies made of cement.

When the door opens, four men walk in, led by the antithesis of the glowing man that I had just met. This other man was dark. Aggressive. Arrogant. But strong as an ox. His arms and neck are pure muscle.

He begins pushing people around with his demands. Everyone’s on eggshells. Then he turns to the attractive girl next to me and starts giving her a really hard time. Without even thinking, or maybe thinking about impressing the pretty girl, I decide I’m going to get up and I’m going to put this guy in his place. As soon as I got in his face, I realized I was no match for this man. He was going to destroy me. More than that, he was going to enjoy destroying me. All he needed was an excuse to fight and he would relish in the opportunity.

He brings his fist back, ready to throw the first blow, and as a stand there frozen, waiting to take it, the punch is caught by the glowing man’s hand. The glowing man pushes me aside and he and the evil men begin to fight. Each are throwing blows, landing some. The glowing man is just as strong as the dark one. They are both impressive, but I’m more impressed with the glowing man being just as strong as the other, without all the muscles. That is until the dark one goes for the legs, and the glowing man tumbles like a pile of bricks.

The dark man gets on top of the glowing man, now laying on the ground, and the dark men raises his fist, ready to rain punches down unto the glowing man’s face. As he releases the first blow, I wake up with a startle.

My heart’s pounding and I cannot get any of it out of my head. I look at the clock and curse at myself, thinking how I have to get up in just a few hours and go to my property law class. I tried going back to sleep, thinking of the glowing man, wondering if I’d ever see him again. I had no idea it was the first of many dreams with Samuel, and the next one, even more grabbing, would be the very next night…

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For me and my friends and family, music is a blessing beyond reproach. For me, personally, it’s so powerful, so integral, that I included lyrics from one of my favorite bands in my first novel. What really messed with my head was learning the legal landscape of including these lyrics in my book. Lyrics written by a brilliant man but owned by a corporate entity, created by others, to make a profit. Totally. Nuts.

I recently saw this band live in Chicago and it was one of the coolest days of my life. I got to give copies of signed book to the band members and they all signed a copy of my book for me. If that ain’t the coolest thing for a music, author geek like me, I don’t know what is. Believe it or not, that’s not even the best part.

You see this book was written to share the messages of hope, inspiration, unity and perseverance. It’s about facing your fear and not being afraid to ask questions. It’s about growing and understanding that you might not have the answers, but with faith, you can learn to face your challenges with confidence and, dare I say, enthusiasm.

At the live show, they opened with the first song off their new album Horizons/East. The song is entitled The Color of The Sky. It’s initial lyrics are, “my first and foremost memory is staring up in wonder at the wall. It circumscribed the city, they said beyond it nothing dwelt at all.”

If you’ve read The Gift of Samuel: Grey Dawn, you can understand why the first time I heard this song, I instantly thought of Joshua standing at the front gate of Caulfield. The song goes on to incorporate all the emotions of the book, up and down, fast and slow, to the point where I was in tears when the song ended. I had just seen the extended trailer to The Gift of Samuel series on Netflix (or was it Hulu) and it completely caught me off guard.

Read my book and listen to this song with your ear buds while reading along to the song’s lyrics. Think of Joshua’s journey – his triumphs, his loses, his desires, his fears, his family, his friends, and ultimately, his bravery. Think of the Thrice lyrics in the novel (or, read them again, because they are that good). Then, listen to the song one more time, envisioning parts of the story matched up against the lyrics and music of The Color of The Sky, and see that extended Hulu series trailer in your head with me. It does more than fit. It’s impossible.

Which brings us back to why we love music so much. Music gives us hope. It gives us triumph, loss, desire, fear, family, and bravery. What are the odds of The Gift of Samuel becoming a Hulu series, with The Color of The Sky serving as the extended trailer to the first season? Three million to one? So what should I do? Tell myself it’ll never happen? Convince myself it’s impossible? Never tell a soul? Or dare to dream big, publish the trilogy, and put myself out there, knowing I could die some day with the dream dying with me, never becoming a reality?

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“The best teachers are those who show you where to look but don’t tell you what to see.” This quote eloquently reiterates many of the topics we covered when I visited your class. The path that lies in front of you is for you and you alone, no one else can walk it for you, just as your relationship to God/Source/Spirit is personally yours. Every person’s journey in this life is unique, their reflections and thoughts are their own, but we all have worth, and no life holds greater value over another.

The profession you have chosen to pursue is vital in shaping the hearts and minds of our future. I meant what I told you when we first began our discussion: You are all my heroes. I ask each and every one of you to hold true to the reasons why you decided to become a teacher. Whatever intuition you feel, calling you hear, or hunch you sense, listen to it and embrace it, without fear or reservation. Walk in faith, not in fear.

Finally, know that there will be times where you will feel beat down and unappreciated. Thoughts of throwing in the towel will come to the fore. But don’t give up. The fact is we are never alone, we all face uncertainty and doubt, and we must trust that there is no challenge we cannot overcome. Find strength in your weakness to persevere through all hardships. When things get especially difficult, and you struggle terribly to find a solution, remember the four words that form the foundation of it all: the answer is love.

I genuinely thank you for the time we spent together and the engaging and thoughtful conversation we enjoyed. Please don’t ever hesitate dropping me a line to let me know how things are going or just to say hi (paulpadron.com). I wish you all the very best and much success tomorrow and always!

Sincerely Yours,

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I was the exact opposite of those things. I had average intelligence, at best, and I was a procrastinator, unmotivated and apprehensive. Making matters worse, my verbal and writing skills were below average. I failed spelling in the seventh grade for a reason. I got a 340 on the verbal portion of the SAT for a reason. I failed out of college for a reason. Surely the law school’s admissions office made a mistake when they accepted my application. I should have told them to double check. No, that’s not it. I should have never applied in the first place.

The law school route was just a way for me to avoid growing up. I was good at being a slightly above average college student. So good, in fact, I stayed an extra fifth year, a.k.a. a “super senior” year. Party lots, study little. The thought of leaving school to join the professional world sent shivers through me. I couldn’t work a real job, forty or more hours a week. I could only handle part time jobs, so I had enough time and money for beer and weed. Never mind that I had zero interest in being a lawyer and that law school would put me seventy-five grand in debt. Never mind that when law school was over, I’d have to find a job as a lawyer. I ignored it all because law school was a temporary fix; it would add three years to the lifestyle I was accustomed to.

Besides, I was never going to find a job with a bachelor’s degree in Philosophy and Speech Communication. I was in a tricky situation. College degree in hand, I either had to find a job or go through further education in a subject that was acceptable to my father and his expectations: law school or medical school. I couldn’t get a master’s degree in Philosophy or Speech Communication. That wasn’t an option. I didn’t take the undergrad classes necessary for medical school, and I couldn’t stomach the sight of blood and guts anyways. Law school was the only logical answer, as illogical as it was.

Back in the auditorium with the other first year law students, the dean of the school spoke about what a wonderful institution we were about to call home. Not me. This place wasn’t going to be my home. This place was a ticket to another three years of avoiding adulthood. I looked around at the other two hundred individuals surrounding me and I knew the dean was talking to them. I didn’t know a single student in that building. Still, I was sure they were in law school for the right reasons. They weren’t avoiding life, like me. They were there because they were going to amount to something. They were smart, motivated, and assured. They were going to be big time lawyers. I was just delaying the inevitable and taking on a ton of debt in the process.

That night, as I sat on the train headed home, I went over the problem once again in my head only to arrive at the same conclusion. Fear of adulthood overpowered the reality that I was taking on seventy-five thousand dollars in student loans to embark on a profession I had no interest in pursuing, because it gave me three more years of play and solved the parent “what are you doing with your life” problem.

It wasn’t long before I discovered that law school didn’t allow the free time and leniency I had enjoyed with undergrad. Don’t get me wrong, I still partied as hard and as often as possible. But if I failed out, I would be in an even worse position. I wouldn’t be able to get back into school, like I did with college. I had to, at least, pass my classes. There was no way I was going to do as well as the others, but I had to keep pace.

This realization amounted to daily building blocks of stress that gathered in my heart and on my shoulders. As I struggled to keep up, it served as a perfect reminder that I was not supposed to be in law school. Other students would answer questions and participate in classes to a degree that far surpassed me. I was dumb. They were smart.

The pressure and anxiety mounted to the point where I began to experience recurring dreams that were so disturbing, so vivid, and so relentless, that I thought I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Of these dreams, none were as striking and intense as the very first dream that I had of a man that I would soon come to know as Samuel.

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