BFTS Magazine: Issue I

BFTS Magazine A magazine of good books and creative writing.

the good vibes issue

Issue I

Instagram.com/BooksForTheSoul Facebook.com/BooksForTheSoul booksforthesoulclub@gmail.com www.booksforthesoulbookclub.com All rights reserved. BFTS Magazine was written, designed and organized by Bianca C. Salvant with no intentions to be sold.

BFTS Magazine A magazine of good books and creative writing.

the good vibes issue

Issue I

ON THE INSIDE THE PRESENT THE PAST TO READ

ENDING THOUGHTS Creative Juice

THE ENERGY OF 8 FUK-DOM GENESIS Kids

HAZEL & JENESIS

“Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.�

- Benjamin Franklin

8 16

12

20 24 32

“

Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dream.

“

- Paulo Coelho

THE PRESENT

Unwrap your gift, we are reading these this year!

january

march

I

n this debut book of poetry, Jasmine Furr displays her keen sense of obligation to speak with her peers. Furr gives much-needed guidance on why you should love yourself, trust God and depend on no man.

may

M D

on Miguel Ruiz teaches crucial qualities needed to be happy in The Four Agreements:

ark Twain gives us a hard piece of candy to swallow in a short 95-page pamphlet. We hear the inner thoughts of King Leopold as he stripped the Congo Free State of pride and joy.

1. Be impeccable with your word.

2. Don’t take anything personally.

3. Don’t make assumptions.

4. Always do your best.

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

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hat would you do if you discovered a new tribe and learned they had the secret to eternal life?

The People in the Trees takes us on this journey while keeping us clenching our teeth.

july

september

U

tilizing interactive tasks and journal entries, Change Your Posture! Change Your Life! is on a mission to impact lives through action.

november

W

ith much cultural relevance, The Lowland is set in both India and America.

We follow two brothers, one a scientist and the other a revolutionary, as their fates unravel across continents.

“The war in our minds require discipline.�

The Four Agreements Don Miguel Ruiz

July 2015

9

“

“

One just [has] to have an open, determined and curious mind.

- Dr. Michio Kaku

The : Past So that we may know where to go, we must remember where we’ve been.

W

O

ur first Books for the Soul read circled around “Picture Brides,” women who were brought to America from Asia in search of a better life. However, they were confronted with far more heartache and labor.

T

arrior of the Light gives you the opportunity to reflect, wonder and plan strategies to execute. It gives you a chance to reevaluate yourself: how do you respond to challenges? People?

Fear? Defeat?

How are you evolving? With time, you should be getting better… are you?

his book is terrifyingly real.

Cahalan does a great job in bringing the reader into her world of the unknown, making us confused, anxious and asking a million questions.

And as she takes us on such a journey, she holds our hand, helping to transition us into retrieving all the answers about a rare autoimmune disease.

“The brain is a monstrous, beautiful mess.”

Brain on Fire, Susannah Cahalan

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

“You are entitled to know that two entities occupy your body. One of these entities is motivated by and responds to the impulse of fear. The other is motivated by and responds to the impulse of faith. Will you be guided by faith or will you allow fear to overtake you?” Outwitting the Devil, Napoleon Hill

ur world is (slowly but surely) growing into a more independent thinking place.

Outwitting the Devil was initially banned from the shelves in 1938 because it was far ahead of its time.

Napoleon Hill dedicated his life into studying the success and failures of people. What he discovered was astounding and his source of information is even more shocking: the devil himself.

We learn in this honest and neccessary text that the devil is composed of every negative atom and occupies the minds of 98% of our world population.

But what does this mean?

The devil explains that those who are simply too lazy to think for themselves belong to him.

He calles them “drifters.” He elaborates: at all times your brain must be active, whether the activity is good or bad. If a person will not keep his own brain active with positivity, [the devil] will ensure to fill it with negativity.

We learn that it is through these inactive thoughts that many people fail: the inactivity to committ to a task, the inactivity to eat healthy, the inactivity to follow a calling.

The devil says, “The capacity to surmount failure without being discouraged is the chief asset of every person who attains outstanding success in any calling.”

O

A

Thousand Splendid Suns, as I suspected, is a beautiful and emotionally involved story. It is a novel that takes the lives of two Afghan women and magnifies the struggle and pain they had to endure in the hands of their own country.

Although the story of Mariam and Laila is fictional, Khaled Hosseini does a magnificent job in making it clear that this story is as close to the truth as we may be able to get during that time of war in Afghanistan.

This is the type of book that will, without a doubt, have you anxiously turning every page, squeezing in your own ounces of faith that something good will come out of all this. You will begin to believe in every single character–regardless if you hate some more than others. You will find yourself screaming at the pages and predicting the next words (as you would if watching a good movie). You will find yourself heartfelt, holding your chest and pushing back tears. You will find yourself doing research on Khaled Hosseini in trying to figure out how such a breathtaking story could flow off the fingertips of a human being.

And, lastly, you will find yourself thanking him for sharing such a story that made you feel completely ignorant to suffering.

July 2015

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“

Protect the time and space in which you write. Keep everybody away from it, even the people who are most important to you.

“

- Zadie Smith

To Read

As I walk the journey of life, I’m going to pick these books up along the way. Join me!

A

collection of essays on the topics of politics, criticism and feminism in a no-nonsense tone.

A

story of twin sisters whose lives are chan ged forever in ligh t of a car crash that leaves one of them tr apped in her own bo dy.

J

A

dichie, in an honest attempt, utilizes her platform to teach the importance of sexual politics and why it is, in fact, everyone’s issue.

ames what Baldw h critic e does ize injus tice o the ra f the syste m A prov . T he Fir m es e passi Baldwin Nex on fo ’s r free dom .

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

hen society loses a talent far too young, e void there is a larg ing. that needs fill A Quick That is where mes in.

Killing in Art co

W

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ery seldomly can a writer make systematic raci sm funny but Pau l Beatty does just that in T he Sellout.

W

hat would our society be like wit h an educa ted people ?

Paulo Fre ire visits th is theory.

win d oe s bes s t: acial meri can xt Ti me

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It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.

“

- James Baldwin

Ending Thoughts There are some books that deserve to travel across the globe.

A

merica is heavily known to travel the globe in hopes of saving others. In this text, Ethan Watters visits this American mentality and shows proof that we aren’t liberating anyone -- we’re actually making them crazy.

Watters lives in San Francisco, California.

C

L.R. James (a native of Trinidad & Tobago) said he wrote The Black Jacobins because he wanted to write about the African people coming together and shaping history to their own liking. In his search, he discovered the story of the Haitian Revolution in which a group of slaves defeated three empires and claimed “liberty or death!” throughout their entire fight.

T

he earth shook for the first time in Haiti in January of 2010. At this exact moment, a love triangle was unfolding between the country’s president, one of his aids and the first lady.

Dimitry Elias Léger was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

ometimes when you fight for freedom, you become a target. As did with Oscar L ópez Rivera who has been in an American prison since 1981 for demanding the independence of Puerto Rico from United States colonization.

Rivera was born in San Sebastián, Puerto Rico.

S

orn in Kyoto, Japan, Haruki Murakami shows us with this novel that the perception of reality can navigate in any direction as we get stuck between two worlds.

B

A

manly man who takes pride in who he is and his people gets torn a part by things we’ve regularly seen throughout history: politics and religion.

Chinua Achebe was born in Ogidi, Nigeria.

e watch as a young Indian boy is awakened and forces himself into the Light, by any means neccessary. Even if that means killing his master.

Aravind Adiga was born in Madras (now called Chennai), and grew up in Mangalore in the south of India.

W

July 2015

21

“

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You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.

- Maya Angelou

SHORT FICTION

THE ENERGY OF BIANCA C. SALVANT

S

ome weird ass shit has been happening to me.

First of all, I keep waking up with these damn headaches. What is starting to freak me out, though, is everything happening before I wake up. I’m sleeping, dreaming, but aware. Has that ever happened to you? They are getting stronger and more realistic.

But that isn’t all. Are you ready for this? The dreams would actually happen.

The other day I had a dream that I was laying on the grass in some park and then all of a sudden someone runs up to a group of young kids playing volleyball and starts shooting. There were screams everywhere and the moment I went to sit up, I was in

my bed. With a headache. My heart was beating at the fastest possible rate it could probably go. I jumped out of bed and hysterically examined my entire body.

Several weeks later, I went to the park behind my home. I had entirely forgotten about the dream. I was drinking a cold beer, getting ready to eat my sandwich and was watching the groups of young people play in the field. It was the first day I had off in a very long time so I was feeling real good. I’m a lawyer, by the way. After my beer, I laid on my back and picked up my new book. I had recently purchased it because I needed something to get my mind off of work. Maybe 15 minutes later, I heard distant barking that I ignored.

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

creative juice After all, I was in a park filled with people. It wasn’t unusual to hear a dog barking. But then, suddenly, I heard arguing, a woman scream and then gun shoots!

Now a whole crowd of people were screaming and running all over the place. What the hell is going on? My mind immediately went to the dream. I couldn’t think straight. I laid there for several minutes wondering if this was a dream or real fucking life. I pinched myself: this is real life! Finally, I got up, gathered my things and ran.

But let me tell you about the incident that put a cherry on top and led me to writing this down. I had a dream that I was at a coffee shop, waiting to meet my sister and staring out the window. It started raining and then a bus hit a woman crossing the street. Her body came flying through the window of the café. In the dream, though, I couldn’t see the woman’s face. But I remember knowing that I was waiting for Jenna.

Everyone started screaming and I tried getting up from my stool but, instead, I woke up in bed. With a headache.

Three months later exactly, I forgot I had that dream. My sister and I planned a reunion and decided on our favorite bookstore café (because it has a bar, too). I’m waiting for her and right when I put my cup to my lips, a fucking body comes crashing through the café window! My coffee spills, people are screaming and running back and forth. The body is motionless in an awkward ass position on top of a table and there is a head rolling across the floor. A head! My sisters fucking head!

I couldn’t go to sleep after that. For weeks, maybe months, I became a zombie.

Am I going crazy? Or am I becoming a psychic?

So I did something I’ve never done: I went to see a psychic. It was one of those places that had a bright neon sign on the outside of a house. The windows were dark and the home looked empty. There wasn’t much life to it. When I pulled up to the driveway, my heart started racing. I’ll only say it once: I was scared.

Anyway. I almost, for a quick second, thought I was in a movie. I almost heard daunting music and seen smoke coming out from underneath the front door. But, of course, it was just my imagination getting the best of me. I had to remind myself that I am only as crazy as I think I am.

Think regular-people thoughts, woman!

I knocked on the door and an older woman an-

swered. She was cute. Her hair was wrapped in a green scarf and she had small white curls coming down the sides. She had a lot of wrinkles and even more surfaced when she smiled. She welcomed me in and I felt calm. A strong incessant was burning somewhere. She asked me if it was my first time visiting a psychic and I told her yes. She sounded like a heavy smoker. As she led me through this home -- did she live here? -- I looked around and found the place quite ordinary. She would look back at me every so often as she directed me through rooms.

Finally, we reached a very small and dark room. The door was off the hinges, instead it was covered with a blanket of colorful beads. As I walked through they rang loudly.

“Why are you here?” She asked me.

“Isn’t that your job? To tell me why I’m here?”

“No.” She gave me a blank stare. “Sit.” I sat. She sat across from me, a small round table dividing us. From her pocket she pulled out a deck of cards.

“Why are you here?” She began shuffling the cards in the fastest way I have never seen before.

I swallowed deeply wondering if I should just get up and go.

“It’s too late to get up and leave, don’t you think?”

Oh, shit!

My insides were screaming! What to do? Can she hear my thoughts? Does she know what I’m thinking? What am I doing here? Oh, shit, I’m going to burn in hell.

She separated the cards into five piles, her wrinkled fingers hovering over them smoothly.

“I’ve been having weird dreams,” I finally answered.

She nodded, not looking at me.

I guess I’m supposed to keep talking.

“Someone is always dying in them and it feels so damn real. I wake up with a headache. And then they become real. I think I may be going crazy.”

She looked up at me. “People are dying?”

“Yes, first it was a shooting and then my sister.”

She flipped over the top card on each deck and stared at them. She buried her chin in her palm.

I watched her as she watched the cards. Should I say something?

“What is it?”

She held up a finger.

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creative juice I sat up straight, not knowing where to look.

The old woman shook her head, “Eights.”

I looked at the cards. “What does that mean? Is it bad?” I could feel my heart beating faster.

“Here,” she picked up the first card, “the eight of hearts means that you will be awarded an unexpected gift. Whether it is a physical gift or spiritual one, I do not know.”

“You don’t know? Can’t the cards be a little bit more specific?” I urged.

She looked up at me without saying a word. It made me very uncomfortable so I folded my hands into my lap and closed my mouth.

She continued. “The second card is an eight of clubs. This is telling me that you will have a close look at death. The eight of spades means several different things. Force and danger.”

I started breathing heavy.

“And here, the eight of diamonds, it is showing me a lot of physical pain. This last card, the ace of spades, is pointing me towards a difficult ending.”

She rubbed her eyes and spoke softly, still looking at the cards. “The number eight is the number of karma. It is the symbol of energy that creates and destroys. All of your cards, except this ace, are eights.” She looked up at me.

It felt like someone had wrapped their hands around my throat. Man, fuck this bitch! What the hell does she know? This old ass woman is just sitting in this dark ass house all day making up random stories to tell people as they come in. She doesn’t know shit about me!

“What happened to you when you were eight years old?” She asked me.

I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed. I looked up at the ceiling and thought of my childhood. Eight years old? Then it hit me: “I had an imaginary friend that would show up in my room every evening. It was the same time every night and no one believed me. It was a girl. She always wanted to play dress up.

Change different outfits, do my hair.”

The old woman nodded her head.

I watched her.

“What happened when you were 16?”

She must hear stories like this all the time. I crossed my arms over my chest. “She started to appear more often and as time went on, she grew up.

She started to show up in the middle of the day. At school, stuff like that.”

“It’s all lies.

There is no afterlife.”

“And 24?”

“She started trying to control my decisions.

Forcing me to go certain places or get involved with certain people. I moved away from home and she disappeared for some time.”

“How old are you now?”

“I’m 32.”

The old woman got up and left the room. She returned with two teacups. “Time is up but we can talk some more, if you’d like,” the old woman said to me as she placed a cup in front of me. She sat down and sipped, looking at me from above the rim.

I took a sip of the tea.

She said, “You are being charged for that tea, by the way. We are not, after all, friends.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, I guess. Am I cursed?”

The old woman had put down her cup and was staring at me. “Everyone has been dealt a set of cards that they must play. Some people get a great hand.

They earn a lot of money, have a beautiful marriage and children. They travel the world a lot and die with a lot of honor. This is your deck and you can’t change that.”

“What does that even mean? What do these dreams mean and why are they becoming real? What does this imaginary friend person have to do with anything?”

For a moment she just looked at me, saying nothing. She licked her lips and shook her head, as if upset that she would have to do some explaining.

“We are each born with a clean slate of thoughts. We go through life and create those memories, right? We live and as we get older we build our life. We learn about religion and the after life, heaven and hell. We are taught that God will pick one of these places to send us, depending on whether we are good or bad.

Right?”

I nodded.

She shook her head. “It’s all lies. There is no afterlife. Our souls are recycled energy and we live life over and over again. Except every time we live, we have a clean slate of memories. So, we just don’t

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

creative juice remember our past lives. Your soul, however, has a glitch.”

A what?

“Your soul can’t forget. So you may feel like you’re going crazy but that visit – that imaginary friend – is you. It is you from another lifetime trying to live in the now.”

What the fuck?

I stood up, put my hands in the air and tried to pace my breathing. I walked in circles and through the corner of my eye, I could see the old woman watching me. She said nothing. I put my hands down and rested them on my hips. I stopped pacing and closed my eyes.

I felt my eyes stinging and a force that I couldn’t control overcame me – tears fell. Hysterical, body shaking and torturous cries escaped me.

It was at this point that the old woman stood up and came to me. My eyes were closed still, I felt her wrap her arms around me and pull. I collapsed into her small body and cried until I could cry no more.

Time passed. I do not know how much.

“You see,” the old woman said, “energy is not meant to be locked up. It must maintain constant movement because when it is suffocated, it goes mad.

As time goes on, your soul suffocates more and more, making her more and more angry.”

“She is making me have these dreams?”

“Those are not dreams.”

And a wave of memories came swarming over me like a tsunami. I saw myself purchasing a gun from the black market, running to a park, bumping into someone, arguing, aiming the pistol and shooting. I saw myself driving a bus, my hands gripping the wheel, my foot pressing down the accelerator despite the light being red and smashing into someone crossing the street.

It felt like the floor had been snatched from under me. I couldn’t breath.

“They are memories…”

The old woman’s voice got lost under water. I was drowning. “…is the only solution.”

Everything appeared blurry and far away. “…suffering for the rest of your life.”

This cannot be happening to me. My life isn’t a horror movie! This is not Paranormal Activity! How could this be happening to me? I know how: because she’s a liar! She’s just trying to take my money. “…just start over completely.”

Wait. What?

“Start over?” I was shaking.

The old woman nodded.

“Well? How the hell do I start over? Tell me what to fucking do.”

“Weren’t you listening to anything?”

I slammed my fist onto the table. “No! I haven’t been listening to one fucking word because, frankly, I’m a tad bit traumatized that this is even happening to me. If you had your crazy past-self following you around and killing people, I think you’d be a little bit fucking off, too!”

She leaned back into her chair. “Let’s be clear.

You don’t know anything about me, that’s one. Two, I don’t have to deal with your shitty attitude; I don’t care what or who is tormenting you. I have my own problems.” She got up and lit a cigarette, taking a hard and long pull.

I sighed and buried my face into my hands. “I’m sorry! Please, try to understand! Tell me how to stop this.”

“You will be charged additionally for the answer.”

“I don’t care what you charge me! Haven’t I already proved that point?”

“You have to kill yourself.”

“We would like you to condense your novel to something young people will read. 140 characters or less.”

“I’m reading an updated version of Romeo and Juliet. This time their relationship comes to a tragic end when she unfriends him on Facebook.”

July 2015

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POETRY

FUK-DOM BIANCA C. SALVANT

I am an American-born un-American whose people have fought for freedom and have won and lost.

My people ran to the super powers of our world with their hands up to the sky, their voices screaming a song never sung while negotiating

their self worth.

You see, this environment wasn’t meant to be this way.

The idea of superior and inferior people is not real.

You see, no one will tell you this, but

I will: the value of money increased so that you would lessen yourself.

We feel uncomfortable in an old car, forgetting that our ancestors didn’t have one.

We complain of having nothing to wear as we stare into a full closet.

We whine of hunger when we just ate

four hours ago.

We are raised by parents who didn’t teach us their native tongue because you are in America now and here they speak English.

So we raise little people who don’t speak their native tongue because they are in America now and here they speak English.

We pledge allegiance to the flag instead

of to the earth.

Millions of people starve when our planet

is food.

Generations of people are born into a world of

one culture.

You see, they are, right before our eyes,

eradicating who we are.

The end of slavery is just an illusion.

They have made us a new home: since 1980, California has built 22 prisons and 1 university.

They call us good if we submit to their oppression and then we become

conspiracist, terrorists

barbaric, thugs if we fight for ourselves.

But don’t you remember who we use to be?

Our initial, primal selves?

Don’t you remember when we use to connect with nature, communicate with our plants?

You probably don’t because they have made us believe that this is voodoo because, remember, voodoo is bad and Jesus Christ died on that cross to save you and evolution doesn’t exist.

But Jesus Christ hasn’t saved us from the man who introduced him to us.

You see, this, too, is an illusion.

They tell us a lot by saying nothing at all.

They they they they they!

Who are they?!

They are a group of people whose civilization is only 12,000 years old compared to the vintage origin of the 6 million year old continent of Africa.

No wonder they’re so stupid.

They’re babies!

So, where did we go wrong?

How did we, the global parents,

allow our babies to control the house?

Lesson learned: don’t trust anyone who tells you

you ain’t shit.

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

SHORT SHORT FICTION

GENESIS BIANCA C. SALVANT

T

hese settings would make them perfect, he knew.

Literally. This option seemed to be the only one he had, the only one he wanted. Sean’s fingers moved throughout glistening keys in a fast pace. There wasn’t much time and every second mattered.

Alarms and blinking lights surrounded him, making his heart and adrenaline pump faster and faster. The shaking made him dizzy.

“Are you done, yet?” The voice spoke into his ear from a headpiece, it was Chris.

“Almost. How much time do we have?”

“Not much. 45 minutes until impact. How much time do you need?”

“I’ll be done before then.”

“Tell us about the settings.” Alex chimed in.

“They’ll be perfect,” Sean said.

“Elaborate,” said Alex.

“They will love each other. Protect each other.

They will be able to use their minds to its full capacity.

They will be born with an engraved purpose to serve their planet, by any means necessary. They will do no evil to themselves or others like them. They will flourish, Chris. They will be better than we ever were, ever could be. They will be perfect.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” said Alex, “isn’t that impossible?”

“To us, yeah. For them, no.”

“We have 25 minutes left before impact. How sure are you, sir, that this will work?” Chris asked.

“100 percent. Have you updated the crafts?”

“Yes,” Alex responded. “There is only enough energy for your unit to survive the landing, sir. Chris and I will have to meet you in the next life.”

“Men,” Sean choked, “it has been an honor working with you. I don’t know how long I will survive once my craft lands but I will do everything in my control to ensure these specimens are probably planted for growth.”

“I wish I could live to see what they’ll create; who they will become,” Alex said.

“15 minutes left.”

The shaking intensified. The lights went out completely.

“Me, too,” Sean said.

creative juice And Sean’s spacecraft rumbled loudly before his body flew and hit a wall from the crash landing. He reached for something to steady himself, to keep his body from becoming a bouncing ball; then he closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

When the movement ceased, he opened his eyes and looked towards the massive glowing tubes that held the irreplaceable specimens. He took a breath of fresh air in confirming they weren’t damaged.

He spoke into his earpiece, “Men? Can you hear me? Is connection lost?”

There was no reply.

“Chris? Alex?” Although he knew his friends were long gone, he said, “I’ve landed safely. We will survive.”

Before exposing the tubes, he went to the large metal door and pushed it open. A gush of wind struck his body and he fell backward. The surface of this planet was exactly how he expected. This made him feel good, to know his calculations had not failed him.

He walked onto the brown surface and looked around. Miles and miles of dirt welcomed him. He looked up. A pink sky and yellow clouds glared back at him. He smiled.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Chris, Alex, I wish you guys were here to see this. You won’t believe me but the sky is pink.” He laughed. “Pink!

The clouds are yellow. Did you hear me?” He was shouting. “The clouds are yellow!” He clapped his hands together and then tears started falling from his eyes. “I can’t believe this. I’m looking at it and I still can’t believe it! How could we have thought so small for so long, Chris? If only we knew a place like this existed sooner!” He fell to his knees. “God?” He whispered.

He turned over onto his back and stared up into the sky. It was a view, he felt, he’d never get tired of.

He smiled underneath a mask of tears. “Look at this, just look at this.”

Finally, he got up from where he lay and went back into his spacecraft to retrieve the specimen. He brought them all outside and before he started planting, he changed one last setting.

His fingers moved quickly although he had all the time he needed. “They will know no god but themselves.” He laughed, “Let there be light -- I have to remember to write that down.”

July 2015

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“

“

I know that the last thing a book wants is to just sit around unread, serving as an element of interior decorating.

- Barbara Ehrenreich

kids

I are based on true life

love to read non-fiction because they

HAZEL

stories. I am in the 5th grade and my favorite subject is science because I love to learn new things about the climate and energy. I want to be a Scientist or a Doctor when I grow up. I am most inspired by Rosa Parks because she is a very brave woman and she did what she wanted to do. If I could go anywhere in the world, I’d want to go to Paris because it is very beautiful and I get to learn French.

I have a younger brother named Christian and my best friend is Mikayla.

My mommy is Aeysha and you can follow her in Instagram @Ms.Aeysha.

POETRY BY HAZEL Acrostic Super fun Play around Outstanding Ready to win Team work Succeed

Cinquain Friendship BFF’s, together forever Play, go to the mall, Dance Creative together, happy together Better with then without, always by your side.

Bestfriends.

The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

kids

I

about weird schools because they are funny. I am in the 3rd grade and my favorite subject is math because everything around you is math and it is fun to learn. I want to be an authorwhen I grow up. I am most inspired by my mom and dad because they are sweet, kind, thankful and they are raising me. If I could go anywhere in the world, I’d want to go to Universal Studios because it is awesome. I have two big brothers named Justin and Jason. My best friend is Alexis. love to read

JENESIS

My mommy is Angela and you can follow her on Instagram @dr_1913.

E

mpowered women empower other women, who, ultimately, empower girls. Let’s keep the cycle going!

For more information on the BFTS mug and bookmark, visit our website!

(Left) Brooke is 5 years old and her mommy is Brenda. Follow her on Instagram @LookItsBrenda.

July 2015

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The Good Vibes Issue BFTS Magazine

“Books, in its many stories, force us to think outside the box, to challenge the perception of reality and, most importantly, to be the god of our own story.”

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any of us who are reading this new magazine are deeply in love with books and its ideas. I, like you, have found a certain comfort that sits between the many pages of printed words. This is because I love picking the brains of other intelligent people. And books, my friends, are concrete proof that there is a world beyond what we’ve been able to experience here on earth. Books, in its many stories, force us to think outside the box, to challenge the perception of reality and, most importantly, to be the god of our own story.

This Good Vibes issue is the first of its kind (but not the last) expanding from the original Books for the Soul brand. The initial intention of Books for the Soul was to create the kind of

environment that would provoke conversations, invite people to think differently, create a fire within souls while motivating, inspiring and educating women aged 18 and up. But it has attracted a large group of people, men and women, young and old. What I have realized is that there is a universal language in books, a universal language in those who simply want to learn. And that is where this magazine sprouted from.

In honor of the second anniversary for Books for the Soul, let us allow ourselves to indulge in the present, remember the past, write our to read list, conclude our ending thoughts on what we’ve completed and (always, always) fuel our creative juice while empowering the kids.

Stay powerful,

Bianca C. Salvant Creator

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July 2015

BFTS Magazine A magazine of good books and creative writing.

the good vibes issue

Issue I