Celebrate Life

For far too long, I've been caught up in making improvements in every area of my life, but once I am successful, I immediately come up with another goal. Very rarely, have I've gotten to the top of a mountain and celebrated. Just jumped up and down, danced and sung to the tune of my success. I've decided that I am not going to do that anymore. In fact, I've decided that I am going to celebrate something about myself, every single day. I figure that if it's my life, my journey, my soul that is on the line, then I can throw a party for my choices, my seeds, my fruits and my joys everyday of the rest of my life.

As a human, I know whats it's like to be depressed, sad, angry, feel like a failure and consumed by the "blues". I also know exactly whats it's like to be in love, to give birth to life, to be consumed with joy and to find happiness in all of the small things many people take for granted. And since that is true for me, I have means to celebrate -much more than I allow myself to do.

And if I know life, the next hurdle is right around the corner. The next mountain in straight up ahead. They are not going anywhere. But in this moment, is victory.

As many demons as I wrestle with, I have beaten more than I currently wrestle with. As many strongholds I have yet to get rid of, I have watched millions fall to the waist side. I am a bad "Motha-Shut-Your-Mouth". To come through a childhood like mines and still be able to stand tall, shows the amount of work I put in. I am not bitter, still teachable, still open and receptive to all. Now if that is not reason enough to keep a smile on my face, and victory in my heart, it will never be enough.

If now is not the time to celebrate it will never be the time. I celebrate because I kick ass! I celebrate because I have freed myself. I celebrate because I have broken the chain. I celebrate because single-handedly I am the greatest person who ever existed -hands down. I celebrate because I am my own hero. I celebrate ME because I don't need a reason, and I know it.

Time to Crank It Up A Notch

One of my new goals is going to be, accepting more responsibility in my life. Poets and Writers have the tendency to really enjoy their solitude and I am no exception. But Saul Williams, one of my favorite poets and musicians, said something last year that stayed with me from the moment I read it. (I'm paraphrasing here) "how it is important for poets and writers to come out of their comfront zone and accept more responsibility for the world we live in." Not just sit alone in our homes, favorite coffee shop, or library and write but make more of an initiative to "get out" there. By "get out" there, I believe he was talking about cranking everything we do up a notch.

By nature, I am a writer, a thinker, and an analyzer. I am going to do everything my way, and fully accept whatever consequences that may come later. (One of the quotes I personally live by is, "I'd rather ask for forgiveness than ask for permission.") What I am NOT, by nature, is a housekeeper. Cleaning, scrubbing and making sure my home is tidy does not come natural to me. For the most part, I have NO idea where to start. And since I've lived most of my life without a mother figure, still am pretty clueless. But in this promise to myself to crank "life" up a notch, I have decided to become a better housekeeper in my own home.

And lo and behold, I wake up this morning and read Sister's Chi-Chi's post on Home is Where the Heart Is. Which is extremely true for me. However, just when I was about to ask her where did she start, she posted a link to Organization. (Almost as if she wrote this particular post with me in mind)It came complete with details and all. Yeah! I am on the "effin" ball here.

In addition to her beautiful post about her maintaining the castle her king and two little princes reside in, she also mentions something I am constantly battling (although it is not much of one any longer) in my home...television. I am NOT a television watcher. There isn't a program on the idiot box that entices me, except that new channel, LINK TV. But my husband claims to need his television. And he watches plenty of it too. We have one in our room, but I refused to get the cable box connected in our bedroom (which my mother-in-law brought for him last Christmas) so the only thing that he can watch on that one are DVD's. And sometimes he uses it to play his game box. But no live television.

However, he slips A LOT and allows the children to watch to much tv. Every time I turn around (especially on the weekend's) I have to direct the children to other activities. And since my mother-in-law moved in, I am now required to do the same with her television. One day I walked into her bedroom and my oldest daughter was watching, Chocolate News, the new program on Comedy Central.

I remember walking past her bedroom, hearing all kinds of foul language, opened the door to her bedroom, saw my oldest daughter sitting on the bed beside her, and I just stared at my daughter. Within a few seconds she just got up and left. (I'll admit, I also lost a great deal of respect for my mother-in-law that day). I walked into the living room where my daughter was sitting and asked her what that program was about. She said that she really didn't know, so I approached my mother-in-law and told her for the umpteenth time to stop allowing my children to watch programs with her.

It looks like the only way I am going to be able to control the situation with my children, is to permit them to only watch DVD's. I'll keep you updated on that.

As far as sounds, we only play new age, spa radio, classical music and jazz in our home. In my bedroom, I play a larger variety but never "raw" rap or baby making music like R-Kelly. I am a true believer in burning incense and candles. I also purify my home twice a month by burning sage. Around seven o clock in the evening, all noises including the music are normally powered off and we are making preparations for the next day.

My home is remarkably calm and peaceful. My children all run the halls playing tag, inviting me and my husband to picnics and tea parties, and whole body massages are a part of our weekly -if not daily- routine. I love touching the skin on my family and they just suck it up. There is no doubt, I've been blessed by the God's. But I can still kick everything up an entire notch -or two. And I am going to enjoy doing it. The first place I am going to start is in my home by keeping it much tidier, and focusing on keeping everything in its place. Thank you, Chi-Chi!

There ain't no shame, in this writer's game!

It's time for a change

As a child, I desired to live a life of peace and joy more than anything else in the world. My eyes would brighten at the sight of a father kissing his child on the cheek or at the sight of a mother holding her children hands as she walked with them to school on their very first day. Tears would creep into the corners of my eyes whenever I saw genuine displays of affection and witnessed tender touches between two individuals. I wanted to live that kind of life. Be involved in that kind of existence, more than anything else.

I remember it wasn't until I was about thirteen when I realized not all people communicated by arguing, disagreeing, yelling and screaming. It literally blew my mind. But more than that, it was intriguing and a mystery that I yearned to understand. The key to communication. The key to peace. The key to happiness. The key to living a life of tranquility and serenity.

I even marveled at adults who choose the sounds of jazz over the beats of hip-hop and R&B, and fell in love with Mr. Harvey Snyder, who was the first person to introduce me to classical music. It was his house, in Jenkintown, Pa. that I sat and observed my first Thanksgiving Dinner, and felt at home as his large family sat around a dining room table that easily seated ten people. I watched and participated in his family's jokes and their conversations. I could have sat and watched them eat, talk and laugh all evening long.

Peace for me has always been something internal. And even in my darkest hour, I strived towards it. Every arrow I threw was with the understanding that one day, I would be victorious.

And to be completely honest, I have no idea when it happened. One day I looked up and had raised two beautiful daughters, and a little boy. One day my daughter declared she loves getting up on the weekends and running into my room, and getting under the blanket with me (because my body is soooo warm). One day I was able to write poems and stories without a house filled with loud disturbing noises. One day I was able to find joy taking long walks in the rain and able to make a mistake without having it rubbed in my face. I was able to live and let live, as the old saying goes. I was able to have everything I put out reciprocated and let the necessary people off my bus without confrontation or getting ugly.

I've shared this with my family but it is time for me to come up with some other goals, because if I died today or tomorrow, I would be still and filled with joy. I would be satisfied with the choices and decisions I've made up until now. So, it's time for another set of goals. Something even greater and more mysterious than peace. How about being the absolute best person I can be? Getting rid of the rest of the negative, poisonious thinking I was conditioned to accept as a child once and for all?

I am a writer. A mask is not befitting of me. Any kind of toxic thoughts needs to be addressed immediately. This can be my new goal, because I have found an ocean of peace. A forest of joy and I have learned how to "fly high."

The Splints

Thursday I found out that I can run 3.5 miles in 48 minutes without stopping once. I must admit, I felt incredible that night and had difficulties falling asleep -I was sooo excited. So, the following day, I head off to the gym and figure that I am going to do the exact same thing. LOL! By the time I hit my 2nd mile I knew I was going to be plagued by shin splints. (See, I am familiar with shin splints. In May of 2000, I began to lose weight by running on the streets of Butzbach and experienced shin splints at that time. They were extremely painful because I made several attempts to run through the pain. In return, I was out of commission for several days. This time though, I am much wiser -or so I thought.)

As I said, when I hit that second mile I felt pains in my left leg shin but I ignored it. By the time I hit 2.3 miles, I was limping on the treadmill and had to push the red stop button. And to make things worse, not much has changed because when I got in the gym today and attempted to run, within the first five minutes on the treadmill, I was forced to end my session.

The thing is my goal does not afford me to lose sight of how important it is to take care of my body. My body is my friend. It is what I need to succeed and one or two days of ignoring what my friend is trying to convey to me, may lead to something really disastrous. I don't want that, so tomorrow I am going to walk my three miles around the neighborhood. Then Monday, I may be healthy enough to resume regular workout. I hope so anyway.

Me

To be honest, I don't know who I am anymore. So many small minuet changes have taken place in my life, in my mind and my spirit that it feels wrong to even discuss them in this post. November 4, 2008 I started running. I haven't missed a day yet, and January 1, 2009, I will begin the New Year running a 5-K race. If you had asked me about this last October, I would have laughed.

I don't know what is happening to me. I know that I'm changing, and the strongholds of yesterday are past. Everything is much more clearer to me, and suddenly my confidence have soared through the roof. I know that much of this has to do with the fact that I now have my power back. The power I continued to hand over to every guy who ever molested me by feeling much more comfortable overweight than fit. I know much of this also has to do with the conversation I had with Khadija, when she spoke the truth about a black woman's interior and how it does not match up with the way the look on the outside. That comment spoke volumes to me.

The last ten years have led me to this place where I control almost every aspect of my life and there are moments during the day when this feeling of joy is uncontrollable.

Happy Birthday, Greatness!

On Wednesday, November 26th, my oldest daughter became a teen-ager. That means thirteen years ago, I was alone in HUP hospital for about an hour before my mother, sister and her father came to show their support. Alone, for about a hour --about to give birth-- to my first child. But I wasn't scared as much as I was excited about starting a new chapter in my life. I remember not caring about who would show up, as long as the doctors and nurses were all capable of properly handling the birth. I asked the doctor (the one who would later give birth to my daughter) at least three times about his credentials. Personally, he seemed sort of amused at the questions but I was serious as all get out --and he answered every one. I wanted nothing to go wrong, and if (God-forbid) anything had, I needed to know that everyone involved were all on their "P's & Q's."

She was a healthy child, nursed until the age of one, co-slept until the age of six and after watching Earthlings last December, a vegetarian.

November 26th and she's a amazing young lady. Kind-hearted, intelligent, creative, funny, stubborn, willful, (I think you get the point.) For the last thirteen years, I have pumped into her what I grew up knowing nothing of. Nature, education, God and confidence, family, self-respect, self-pride, self-love.

Today, I celebrate her birthday. The day I gave birth to my dear daughter. I spoke to my womb today and remembered not being certain of what lay ahead but knew that I would always do whatever I had to in order to protect her. And I have kept my promise to her.

Happy Birthday, Greatness!

Bjork- Pagan Poetry

Bjork has the tendency to leave the human spirit vulnerable.

Donnie - Turn Around & Cloud 9

I have three copies of The Colored Section. This album is satisfying. See for yourself.

Donnie- Turn Around



Donnie- Cloud 9

Stevie Wonder - Rocket Love

Need I say more. Introducing Mr. Stevie Wonder.

Gnarls Barkley: Going On

Gnarls Barkley

Citizen Cope- Sideways

I will see him in concert. Citizen Cope sounds so...

Cee-lo- Bad Motha

As my friend would say, "TOOT-TOOT". "BEEP-BEEP".

"You can't handle me ___, I'm too much." - Cee-LO

Bad Motha.

Saul Williams- DNA

Saul is...Saul. Every time I listen to this video, I am convince G-d is speaking to me. Feel the Beat!

Grace Jones- Corporate Criminal

Grace Jones is Back. Check out her new video, Corporate Criminal.

Grace Jones is the master of entrance & exit.

The day before she must turn in two projects for school, my oldest daughter comes home from visiting with a friend and is down for the count --swollen throat -- headache -- fever --body --aches -- and extreme fatigue --everything. I notice something is wrong with her as soon as she walks into the house. She doesn't look at me. She doesn't say anything. There is no smile, no energy, no cheer. There was none of that usual not quite thirteen "pep in her step". Instead, she reeks of "I don't want to be bothered", and her eyes and cheeks seemed to be being pulled down towards the ground.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I just don't feel well."

"Can I get you anything?" I ask following her to her bedroom. I manage to remain far enough behind her, as not to violate her personal space, but not so far so that when she goes to shut her door, I am not able to push it back open.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I turn and walk out of her bedroom, leaving her door slightly ajar knowing this is not over.

I head towards my bedroom as my youngest daughter hands me her bright pink book bag and wait for me to tell her what to do next. It's like that between she and I. She doesn't make many moves without being first directed -at least by me.

Going through her folder is a joke because almost everything needs to be thrown away. Trash, paper, trees.

On the very top of a pile in her homework folder was a white piece of paper that screamed:

Memo: Your child has been exposed to Group B Streptococcus

I'm thinking, "You've got to be kidding me, right?"

But, NO. I continue to read the rest of the memo and discover the date of exposure was just two days ago. The paper continues on to tell me what Group B Streptococcus is, how people are infected, the symptoms and a list of things to do, if I think my child may be showing symptoms.

I'm sure this is what has my oldest daughter on her hind, and why she appeared so vulnerable when she first walked into the house. It makes much more sense now. I walk back into her room, sit down on the floor right next to her and tell her the news. She doesn't care. She just wants to sleep.

I let her.

Power

Have your power ever been taken away from you? If so, what are you doing to get it back?

As a child, I would freeze up when a man molested me. I couldn't move...I just couldn't move. And this fact followed me until about three years ago, when I falsely accused someone very dear and close to my heart of making a sexually inappropriate comment to me. I remember him making the comment, and my body going into "freeze" mode. About a year and a half ago, we were able to reconcile but if he had not continued to pursue this issue, I would have always thought of him as a pervert.

I was not one of those children who tried to fight their perpetrator the entire time a assault was taking place. I just went to that place in my head. The same one you hear so many victims of a rape or sexual molestation say they go. I knew everything that was happening to me, but my body would not move. The man who tried to rape me, was the only man I fought. I can't tell you why, but I remember moving my legs to the left and right and then bending them so that he could not spread them apart. He was extremely drunk so he finally gave up and I walk back to where I was sleeping.

The victims of sexual abuse normally fall into two categories. Those who fought back the entire time are the ones who never gave up their power. They are the victims who after being violated take up self-defense classes, or get their permit to carry, or begin carrying mace & pepper spray. The individuals in the other categories are the ones who did not fight back and they do things like feel more comfortable with extra flesh on their bodies, or begin to have lots of sex with different people.

The ones in the second catergory carry around the fact that they have allowed another human being to take their power away from them. I carried this until yesterday. I will never allow another person to take what is rightfully mines again. I have always had an amazing spirit, always strong-willed, always intelligent, always creative, always powerful...except in this one area. Where no matter what, I could not will my body to move, I could not will my mouth to yell when a man was molesting me. And up until yesterday, I could not will my mind to see that I have been given my power back in that area.

Damn...my power. I gave it up and never realized it. When I heard my therapist say that, I was immediately healed. So much began to make sense for me. What I've allowed over the years, what I've participated in, what I didn't say. All because I have never plugged that hole up.

Never EVER Again!

To be Young Again

To be young again.

I've heard the phrase a thousand times and it has always failed to impress me. To be young again for me and many other children would mean that we would live in the shadows of poverty while dancing in our rodent infested homes. Sharing our last scraps of salvageable food with cockroaches and leaving as early as daybreak in order to avoid our drug addicted neglectful parents who had been partying all night long and where ready to rest.

Parents like mines who were each in their own worlds which never included me or my younger siblings but who still remained worthy of our love for no other reason than, they were all we knew. Where the people rot from the inside out and roofs made of tar leak rain into the houses of many families whenever there is heavy downpour. Where you grow up distrusting the sounds of pleasantries and people smiling. And wonder how does a man get from here to there if his boat has been destroyed before birth, his walks upon nubs, and the nearest bridge is located in the outskirts of the city, where fruits and vegetables grow & thrive in abundance.

I use to wonder about that as a child, whenever I caught glimpse of a beautiful piece of fruit that was clearly taken care of. Why do people take care of fruit but leave people to rot? But the broken glass bottles which have become a permanent part of the street, the smell of urine, and the crying of neglected hungry babies is my answer. And I learn to appreciate it, because it is the truth --raw and uncut.

I am a fine piece of fruit, worthy of an award, and a newspaper article in today's daily news, picked for consumption and placed on display only when I am at my ripest.

There is that sense of wonder & imagination about being young that causes feelings of nostalgia but that feeling only lasts as long as it takes one to round the bend. I do remember running across train tracks and placing my ear down close to the track to see if I could pick up on the sound of a train approaching, but this particular train station had long been out of service. And although all of the children in the neighborhood knows it; it doesn't stop us from trying to listen for a sound that we know will never come. It's like that when you live in poverty. Almost everyone ears are tuned in to the frequency of the wind, hoping for the sounds of change. Which never comes. Old battered long forgotten cars and their parts now occupy these tracks....oh, and crack addicts, wino's and homeless families. At first they all look alike --but over time you can tell the difference between those who are homeless and those who have addictions. It's in their eyes.

I must admit the age of innocence skipped me, and anyone who knows me intimately would confirm that I was caught smoking Winston cigarettes not once but twice as a child. They were my grandfather's, Tex, favorite brand. And I would be in my teens long before I knew there were other brands of cigarettes because whenever I walked to the neighborhood grocery store for my grandpop, I never had to ask. The man behind the counter knew me, he knew my grandfather, and he always had a fresh pack of boxed Winston's ready for me.

The man behind the counter, was also the store owner who knew all of the neighborhood children by face, or their selection of hoagies, chips and sodas. All which he sold for just a dollar and fifty cents. God, bless his soul.

To be young again for me would mean watching the world pass by at such an amazing speed that my mind never fully caught on to adulthood even though I craved becoming a woman more than life itself. An example of this would be the time I resorted to walking around in my mother's creme colored high heeled shoes for weeks on end, until one of the shoes made its way out into the middle of the street, in front of our home, and became a victim of a "hit & run."

With me and my sister being the only witnesses, we were subjected to an intense hour of good cop-bad cop with my mother playing the "good cop" and my stepfather playing the "bad cop".

"Did you have anything to do with its death?"

"Where were you and your sister this morning at ten thirty?"

"Am I a suspect?" I ask.

"Well, you were the last one seen with the shoe."

In my mind, I know they are telling the truth, but I remain quiet. Hoping that at any moment my lawyer would come walking in, present himself and put an end to all further questioning. But within ten minutes , I am found guilty ---all without proper representation and I am sentenced to an ass whopping by wooden paddle. I do my best to stand tall as the paddle makes contact with both my legs and butt. I also make sure to look my mother in her eyes as she tries her best to break my spirit with the paddle, even though we have long ago come to the conclusion that I am too stubborn to cry when taking a beating. Once again, I confirm this statement by not crying and my spirit remains intact. The only thing my eyes reveal is the fact that I would like this beating to come to an end so I can go outside. Plus, the hits come at a much slower speed than if she was using a belt.

I'm beginning to sweat and smell myself. I smell like brown sugar, unwashed underarms, the city streets and perspiration. As I make a vow not to move, the clothing begins to cling to my unwashed skin and I am reminded that I haven't showered or bathed in about three days. It will be another day because I never wash after a beating.

I take the beating in silence, and hope that this is grounds for an appeal.

To be young again. The aftermath of a disaster for many. The sum of zero for others.

I am a woman of many desires but being young again is not one of them.

Reading Of Dear History

I read lots of books and articles and essays and poems and blogs and songs and ideas and dreams and names to my children. And for the most part, I can not get my youngest son to be quiet and remain still enough, so that I can get through a short story or two, but tonight something happened as I was reading that has never taken place before.

Tonight I read them Saul Williams, Dear History, no one moved.

My normally active, rambunctious son sat still and not only allowed me to finish the poem but two of the others that followed it. Never before has anything like that happened. My husband didn't have to try to get him to remain in one spot. His oldest sister did not have to coax him into sitting besides her as I tried to rush through the remainder of a story. It was peaceful, still & the energy in the room was unlike any of the energy that we normally have during reading time.

Below is an excerpt;

Dear History,

For too long have I pondered your meaning, memorized dates of battles, years of servitude, decades of injustice, named eras after movements, mourned the extinction of species, cursed founding fathers, worn vintage suits and cloaked myself with references of your hold on me.

I have walked through museums wondering how it is that greatness had lived and died all before my time. Parts of me feared becoming great because..."

http://clutchmagonline.com/newsgossipinfo/saul-williams-dear-history/

I could not help but wonder about the effects of Saul's letter on my children tonight. What kinds of seeds did I plant tonight, what kinds of seeds were begin deposited into their fertile growing minds? Because there was defiantly something that took root as I read Saul's poem to history. I heard it in the silence --and saw the flicker in their eyes -even felt the warmth that circulated itself all throughout my room.

They heard something that remains hidden from me and my adult eyes. Especially Pharaoh. He, a toddle full of youthful energy moved not a bone or made not a stir -and I read over three pages. If I could have, I would have continued to read forever. Just read into my mouth grew dry, get a drink and begin again.

Read until walls & barriers were knocked down and replaced by bridges. Kept reading until the Congo began to overflow with love & peace.

Ceasefire.

I hit on something with tonight's reading. Something that can not be explained but had to be experienced and something that had to be acknowledged & appreciated --just like peace. I saw the electrical force fields of energy that moved about, enveloping them individually. I saw what they heard, what they felt, what they understood, what they believed, what seeds were deposited.

I saw THEM as I read them the poem. If I scared easily, I would be frightened because something was in my home tonight. I watched as words controlled the tempo of tonight's poem, instead of the usual story. I watched as passion and enthusiasm made its point. When I came to the end of the poem, no one spoke a word. No one. Not even my youngest daughter, who always has to give her take on the character, or tell me that she did or didn't like it. She just got up out the bed, walked over to me and gave me goodnight loving. That's it.

Anonymous

To All,

My blog is now closed to Anonymous Users because of some person making a fool of themselves. You will now need to log in to leave a comment.

Thank you!

Start Venturing Out of Your Comfort Zone

I have gotten so comfortable in reading my books in classic literature and listening to my wide variety of music and speaking my opinion and loving until I destroyed the core and dressing in all colors of the rainbow and traveling extensively and dancing naked and cooking naked and being friends with every animal plant flower tree mountain known to man and sitting in my backyard watching the sunset and standing outside in the front of my house watching the sunrise and dancing in the rain and washing my hair in rain water and making love and massaging the bodies of my children & husband and writing love letters to people that I have loved and watching marriages fall apart and watching new lovers join forces and waiting for the right answer and thinking and pondering and caring and analyzing and figuring out and accepting and praying and mediating and doing.more.of.the.above. that I have forgotten to live life.

Oh yes, I am a master of rising up to the challenges of... heeding the call of... discovering the key to... that I have forgotten how to live. I don't know how to live how to let go --why to let go.

My comfort zone is to think my way into peace, and I have done that. My room is filled with all kinds of ancient Greek literature that I have read and digested. Books by philosophers and some of the world's brightest minds. I am comfortable here.

If I were to die tomorrow I have arrived but if I don't die tomorrow, I desire to go further.

I'm stepping out of my comfort zone. Buying books by about traveling and songs about Bach and people and colors and health. Add some more of life to me...at least for a while. Stop hiding from people and dealing with people. Letting others know that I am alive and flexible and friendly and funny. Walk into some of the world's most populated room to outshine everyone (I always do that.) But I have to get out first. I have to engage others and venture out of my comfort zone. Be even better than I am now.

Dance

It's important for people who have overcome neglectful childhoods to take the time and learn how to dance.

About three/four years ago, Mr. Joanne Helton gave me a twenty dollar bill and demanded that I head to the mall directly after school and purchase Leanne Womack's, I Hope You Dance. She wanted me to listen it on a daily basis because it would do wonders for my soul in the long run.

Is there a song that you listen to whenever times get difficult? Would you care to share it with others?

I took that music cd home and put it on repeat until I knew every song on the cd. About a week later, Mrs. Helton noticed that I was dancing a bit more around class and whenever I was interacting with others. Pleased my soul to know that she noticed.

It's important to learn how to dance with people. It's required if you are someone who normally takes things personal. I went through a brief period of always assuming & taking some of the --smallest-- childest things personal. But as I grew wiser, I saw that none of this shit is personal. People (for the most part) are not out to get us. We are no longer running from the "bogey man". Most of the people we encounter now-and-days are just doing what is needed to survive. Nothing more. Nothing less. There is no conspiracy...just life.

It's important to know that!

Part of learning how to dance is learning how to pick a fight. Praying before you engage in battle & warfare (I am a FIRM --WILL.NOT.BE.MOVED. believer in mediating and praying before warfare.) Laughing hysterically, manically & out loud. Agreeing as much as you disagree. And most important stop taking everything every wrong every hurt every disagreement every broken promise every "s/he didn't say hi to me" every dirty look so personal.

You're safe now & free to dance as wild & free as dreams are.

Dance past and beyond the stars soar right up besides the sun feel the warmth of its heat ignite the fire within, fore, the sounds of the universe are plentiful & ripe always in season the same can be said about man.

Have a Story? Share it!

I listen to other people because we all have our own unique story.

A perspective so unique and entirely ours we should always give praise to the creator. In the years before we take our final bow and see what else is out there, beyond the physical, we make some great strides and also spend a lot of time learning valuable lessons. People tend to refer to them as mistakes.

In the meantime, I've met wonderful people full of interesting thoughts, powerful ideas and who had the kindest of hearts. And most of mankind have not found favor with them.

For example, I am friends with a man named Jack. We meet up at our local library about 3 times a week and talk politics, people, and positivity. He believes in aliens, God and the need for major corporations. Whenever we talk or discuss things, he refers to me as a liberal, which still to this day amazes me. Me...a liberal! However, I am convinced that HE (although he downplays this) is a genius. He downplays his intelligence but there is no doubt he could hold a conversation with everyone from Einstein to Marx to Jesus and still shine. He is extremely intelligent & very gifted. He has to have an IQ of about 160 or so. And he is the most encouraging, interesting, humble person I have ever met. I am amazed at the things that comes out of his mouth and at the same time how humble & completely down to earth this guy is. I take away something each time we speak.

Every person is of interest and of heart and of talent and of a way to find a way. We fail to take the time to get to know the greatest of us unless they come forward with degrees, rank and power. And that's okay too. Everybody is of interest. But not everyone is as interesting and unbelievable as, Jack.

They Can Not Bring You Down Unless You Give Them Permission!

They Can NoT Bring You Down Unless You Give Them Permission!

I stay far away from people and have never been one to apologize for it. I rather spend time alone or with a few close friends. I will make exceptions for parties, gatherings or any kind of huge event.

I've been visiting a few blogs lately, and there are some folks pretty upset about the fact that black people have supported Obama. And quite frankly, I do see their point. Obama has not given African Americans any kind of promise as far as what he is going to do to address their core issues. Obama failed to step up and defend his pastor when the media criticized him, and he said nothing when his wife was being burned to the stake. All of these are reasonable concerns but this is not what this post is about.

It's about you watching the words and spirits that you allow into your soul. Now and days, those with the best intentions will hinder you if you ever begin to think for a second, they know more about you than you do. In your quest to overcome, you have probably come up with your own set of valuable tools & ideas about what's important. You've, nine times out of ten have been paving your own way for a while. Please believe, this will never change. People have a way (I am not certain if they do it on purpose or not) of trying to convince you what is best for you.

Fuck them! Including & especially me, if I ever try to pull an I-know-you-better-than-you-do.

If you're like me, you've knew that you were destined for paradise before you ever had a glimpse of it. You smelled peace and caught a whiff of joy when you lived amongst the street sewage. You've felt the winds of change approaching from the west and have been tuning out the sounds of gunshots for far too long. Keep that spirit. Keep that eye that have been able to penetrate into the souls of every person you have ever met.

Being alone is NOT the same as being lonely!

Learn to tell the difference between the two for your own benefit.

Remember, only by the Grace of God, Creator of the Universe, you have been able to come this far. There will always be (especially in this highly opinionated country) someone trying to bring you down. Someone who doesn't want to see you succeed. Or someone who thinks they know what's best for you. Always!

What are you going to about it? What are you NOT going to do?

The Choice is up to you, my friend.

As Kanye West says, " They're will always be haters, that's the way it is. Hater ni--a's, marry hater Bitches and have hater kids."


*Note to Readers* This blog is geared towards people (especially children) who have and are trying to get themselves out of extremely abusive situations. We have an unique perspective about life. With that being said, this is not a post about bashing people including the blog owners I made mention of above. I have a harsh way of phrasing things and will eventually learn to taper this by reading blogs, essays and comments written by others that I deeply respect.

The bottom line to this particular post is that we live in a highly opinionated society BUT there isn't another soul that knows what is best for you.

Remember that!

First Black President

Originally, I was not all that interested in voting this year until Saul Williams came to Arizona. I went to see him perform live in concert one day and speak at a local college the next day. When he finished his speaking engagement and we were dismissed, I had second thoughts about voting.

I'll admit, I'm not very fond of America and the energy that it gives off to it's people but I decided to register anyway. Everyone is my household followed the presidential debates together and Obama grew on us all. I am not afraid to say if a Republican appealed to me, I would vote as one. But I am not a staunch Republican or Democratic.

I finally registered to vote in Mesa, Arizona, outside of a Tattoo Convention when I was trying to come up with images for my back & sleeve. My voters' registration card came in the mail about two months later and I sat it on the shelf of my bookcase.

On November, 4, 2008, I used it to vote for Barack Obama.

This is what I wrote on November, 4th;

I bathed, applied my make-up and picked out my most business-like attire. Afterward, I put my son into his finest threads, went to pick up both of my daughters from school and gave my oldest daughter the pen so that she could cast our vote.

All the while, I stared at all of my children thinking of them as the next Obama, Oprah & Condoleeza. The next generation of possibilities & insight. Sending positive thoughts & healing to the hearts and minds of my grandchildren and great-grand.

We walked over to the booth, my oldest daughter picked up the pen, looked back up at me, and I said, “You know what to do.” And she did. We have been talking about this moment for a while now. We’ve watched every presidential debate together and even prepared the speech she had to give to her class mates on the reasons she thought Obama would be the better president together.

It was her time to shine and my time to sit back and watch her. It is Obama’s time to shine. There are so many people who fought very hard for this chance. They died believing in the future.

I ride on that wave of hope, faith, courage, determination & desire today. I hope you do too.

I dedicate this day to Ms. Tubman
B. 1820 - March 10, 1913

I met every word of it too. As a child, I thought I would never live to see a black person be President. Even when Al. Sharpton & Jesse Jackson ran for office, I knew they would not win. I'm rejoicing in the fact that I lived to see such a day.

You see, I am a writer & dreamer. That is what I do. I take faith and combine it with action which produces rainbow colored results. I encourage and inspire the souls of young twinkling stars who have short arms but a long reach. When I am cynical, it never lasts long because the creative "muse" in me, takes control once again and direct my thoughts towards the sun. Ideal & I are One! I am all that I need to be, all that have ever been needed. When I look in the mirror, I see God. I see life and the music I listen to reflects this and the tattoos I wear on my body and the jewelry which adorns my inner soul and the poets I give an ear to and the books I digest and the man that I have married and the people I call my friend and the salads I prepare for my family and the incense that I burn and the sage that I use to rid my home of evil thoughts & spirits and the things I require from my children and the mistakes I have made and the people I have bent over backwards for all reflect my inner being and the way I see life.

I am who I am!

"Always will be always was, the center of a perfect circle, I am your soul" - Cee-lo

Destined For Greatness

It's time for people to get off my bus. I had to kick a few members of my biological family off about two months ago and have noticed that my bus feels much lighter than before.

Carrying everyone to the promised land is not possible, although I was once under the impression that I was strong enough to do so. But once I saw the truth, it changed the way I saw things and I acted according to this new truth. Ahhhh!

To be this light on my feet is pleasing to my body.

Wednesday I started going back to talk therapy so that I can come up with a few new goals for myself. These goals will be what I use as I enter this next stage/level of my life. One of the things my therapist asked me to do was to come up with a list of ideal qualities that I'd like to have. The other thing she wanted me to do was to write down my ideal day. My mother or father are no where in these new goals. My siblings are no where in my new goals.

I like this stage.

It's fresh. It's new. It's exciting, filled with wonder & amazement. I smell change in the air. It's an overpowering smell, sort of like freshly cut grass on a Saturday morning. I can hear the sounds of better days where the water that flows forth from me will be free from poisons & toxins. The kind of clear fresh water that one can find in glaciers & polar ice caps will be found in my personal reservoir.

I like this stage.

It confirms to me that I have arrived. I have journeyed & backpacked across deserts, swam across shark infested oceans and ended up at the garden of Eden. I know my work is not done, nor did I expect it to be. However, I am taking this time to just take everything in. I am resting my bones, resting my mind, burning sage & incense, and putting my guns & knives away. Praying for the days ahead.

I like this stage and thank God that I have arrived.

Destiny: Something To Which A Person or Thing is Destined

Like a minute in a day
lightning in the sky
As you were emerging from out of me
I began to cry

I didn't know much then
But I have a better understanding now
of the significance you had
in my life when you made your first sound

I'll never forget the sparkles that glistened
when I first looked into your eyes
in them were my reasons to live and thrive
that soon replaced my selfish thoughts of dying

The pure smell of your flesh
as I held you close
suddenly you were all that I needed
and what I wanted the most

Your smile

Your happiness

You

There has never been a time
when you haven't managed to make me laugh
from the first time you learned to walk
to the first time I gave you a bubble bath

In all of the world, there will never be another like you
take peace and comfort in this
bless the world with your presence
as you have done for me.

Shelter for My Sisters Because I Am Being Restored

What about on a spiritual level?

Everyone wants to be famous for doing the "Claire Huxtable" in the African Female Community (thanks Khadija for that one) but what about the Spiritual Level? Trying to know God/dess while here on earth and then exhibiting God/dess-Like behavior. I would gladly stand by such a woman because that is who I am.

She is a rarity.

I enjoy reading the thoughts and essays written by a woman who has chosen not to belittle herself or ever lower herself to someone else's standards. It is hard here in America to find such a woman. A woman that has been enticed by temptation but has managed to "stay straight."

In the meantime, that is how I'd like to be remembered and what I'd like to be known for...following that narrow road to God. Giving the best of me to everyone I meet, doing whatever God asks of me.

African American women, at the end of time, will be able to say that we had dialogue with other African American women and collectively discussed our fate. Whether we agreed on a path to take or if each of us went our own separate ways, we discussed our future with other women of color, and I was apart of one of the many necessary conversations that have taken place.

I am participating in some of world's most beautiful thoughtful, provocative conversations. As a child, I'd never imagine such a beauty and the fact that these smalls moments are not bragged about is surprising and at the same time puzzling.

There is a calm when you live in peace and dwell in growth. I like the angle I see life from because it changes as I wisen, mature and grow. It's not a permanent state of mind. I am free to change my road if need be, and I like that. There are many discussions taking place about the state of the black community/family. Conversations and blogs written about everything from disciple to friendship. Leaving me many times speechless because of the importance of it all.

What is the African American's Woman next move?

Why does she choose this path?

How will it benefit her?

What are the consequences of her current conditions?

How does she go about making a change?

What literature we suggest for further study?

Last hopes, wishes, thoughts and prayers?

I am listening to the comments of an extremely intelligent, capable group of women whom, with God/dess grace and mercy will be able to give AA women a starting point to call our own. With this new hope, we encourage other women to be "prayed up" for days ahead. This is crucial for our survival for not only our individual survival but collective as well.

We may not admit to it but there is nothing like a "girlfriends" love. Nothing like calling another sister when we are upset and ready to kill everyone within eyesight. She'll ride with us because she is there in "our" moment...never really liked that guy anyway. She is familiar with our struggle and for some unexplainable reason, we appreciate her more than anyone of our other friends. It is this woman/friend we are missing and yearning for in the African American community.

Most of us know this and that is why not having a friend is considered such a horrible thing especially after one has made all of the right decisions.

What happened to the African American Women Community and can her heart be repaired and her doubts unfounded enough to begin a friendship with someone who needs her --like another AA woman?

Seems the female spirit has been torn apart by the collective. She isn't as strong and potent as before. She's lost a lot of her power and now resorts as being referred to as a gift, or an exception. If you have a true friend that you can count on for emotional support, you are very lucky. Be sure to nurture and maintain that unity. What you have is a rarity in the African American community.

Can we heal her in time? In my personal opinion, we're beyond certain things by now and we all haven't grasped that fact. Friendships are overrated and unnecessary because we don't need that lifeline to survive; there will always be life found in the artificial. Enough so that we are able to avoid one-on-one contact and remain selfish and only concerned with our individual needs.

But back to the question about the spiritual level.

It's not popular nor will it bring you fame; people knowing what you've contributed to the soul of the Universe. The deeds that you perform on a spiritual level stay there. Sometimes when you do things for God it is just between you and him/her. There isn't another soul who knows of your deeds. They remain unknown to man, no matter how "good" the decision you've made.

Honestly, I'd prefer just God to know of my actions and thoughts, this way I can be judged by the Judge...whoever s/he is. But sometimes I would like to be recognized and appreciated for my works by my fellow man and no matter what I do, they pass me by. Not all but enough to remind me that I am not a Beyonce Knowles nor will I ever be a Paris Hilton.

As my husband always points out, a bi-polar Assata Shakur with an eccentric, eclectic twist. I gladly take that title. It is my crown and the only person I can be.

Tired of Garbage Music? Check these men out: Maxwell & Jamiroquai

Alrite, I've been taking some time to get my thoughts together. Right now, my mind is being subjected to many changes and truths as they resonate with my soul at this time. I can always change my mind later.
So, please bear with me as I take the necessary time to my act/mind together. Until then, I'd like to leave you with two videos from fantastic artists like Maxwell and Jam

The first is Maxwell's This Woman's Work and to be completely honest there is a whole list of things I love about this song. One of the first things that come to mind is the way it pulls at my heart string's as soon as the song starts to play. I really can't say too much about Maxwell at this moment...I'd go on and on and on --well you get point.



Maxwell's This Woman's Work

The second video is by Jamiroquai. The name of the song is Corner of the Earth. It's a little jazzy toe-tapping song that you can't afford to miss or not give a good lesson. I was introduced to Jamiroquai in Germany. His music took over the Germany video station my husband and I use to listen to, in order to get our hip-hop & R.B fix. (In fact, that was the first time I heard of Cee-lo and have been in love with him ever since. It was the video of Closet Freak.) Jamiroquai made me take an geniune interest in him with the creative videos and his unique funky "come and take me" style.

Check him out. You'll be glad you did.

Thoughts By My Fellow Man: A Series

I am starting a series of Thoughts By My Fellow Man. Thoughts By My Fellow Man is a statement from an "average" human being that is of such insight and importance that everyone should hear it. It's important to know what our fellow man thinks.

The first Thought has been provided by my best friend, Link.

"As long as I'm eating NO man should starve...my bread is your bread."

Can anyone else say they have felt like this for another person? If you have when was the last time you had such a thought?

I met Link in Germany when he was ten years old. We clicked and have been like sister and brother since. He is my friend. Blood in, Blood Out. Link is nineteen years old and is looking forward to relocating to Germany for a job in the next year. He's a great hip-hop artist and likes to refer to himself as "Hip-Hop's Savior." And we all should be thankful for that given the current state of hip-hop. Good Luck Link! Check out his Myspace page:

http://www.myspace.com/wwwmyspacecomlinklust

Because most of us are consumed with making money, keeping up with the Joneses' we no longer have the heart and concern to care for other human beings. I watch enough of it every day to know, that very few people can come out of their own worlds to enter into the zone of another person. It's a dangerous way to live and your soul will not benefit from this kind of thinking. Most of us live eat and thrive, but we are NOT sharing what we have with others.

As Link said, as long as each of us has something to give (smile, hug, book, song, letter, phone call, note card, money, food, clothing word of advice, ear, should of support) no other person should have to go without. DAMN!
Link, thank you for showing us that it is okay to share with others -whatever we have- and providing us with the first Thoughts By My Fellow Man.

Second Thoughts by My Fellow Man

In this series of Thoughts By My Fellow Man I have highlighted and made a mental note to tell others of the wisdom and common sense being spewed forth from "average" individuals. To often we read quotes from people dead and gone and while their view points are needed and should be used as reminders to the younger generation I will say this; there are people that we choose to walk by everyday that have built in reservoirs of knowledge and useful information. I can remember the first time I heard, Saul Williams, Talk To Strangers I was deeply moved by the song because I have always talked to complete strangers. In fact, whenever I am late or take longer than what is necessary my family will say, "She's talking to somebody." It doesn't matter. It one of the way I stay sane in this insane world.

Today's thoughts is by Khadija one of my most favorite bloggers. You can check her out here. http://muslimbushido.blogspot.com/
She was responding to a posting about why it is important for black women to reconsider the support we give to most damaged beyond repair black men. With that being said, I am an advocate for interracial relationships. Black women MUST widen their dating pools at as soon as possible. If you would like to read her response in it's entirety, please do so by going here.

http://www.blackfemaleinterracialmarriage.com/2008/10/living-well-not.html

Thoughts by our Fellow Man

"Once somebody harms a person, that person is not obligated to concern themselves with "redeeming" the aggressor. Or concern themselves with whether or not the attacker is redeemable. This sort of thinking is anti-self-preservation."

We women have been pretty well beaten down and stepped on by almost everyone. It's damn near difficult to get any respect --including other females. I've made a promise to myself to watch how I treat and speak about other women especially black women. Immediately I found myself gasping for air whenever I made a remark about a situation because rarely did I step into it acknowledging that I was dealing with another female spirit. The only thing I saw was a issue, and that made me really unsympathetic towards them. So, the first thing I do is make sure I openly acknowledge the gender, then I deal with the situation and usually this causes me to be flexible in my thinking. I don't want to hurt or contribute to the pain of other black women in any way.

Khadija's comment is for any women who has ever been abused or violated by a person. It demands me to ask of myself and for you to ask of yourself, what is self preservation?

Webster's Dictionary has this definition:

Main Entry:
self–pres·er·va·tion
Pronunciation:
\-ˌpre-zər-ˈvā-shən\
Function:
noun
Date:
circa 1614
1 : preservation of oneself from destruction or harm
2 : a natural or instinctive tendency to act so as to preserve one's own existence


What must I do to preserve myself from the harm being inflicted by other people? Does a lion go back to the scene of battle and concern himself with whether he killed the hyena? Noooo! In my opinion, this care & concern for the aggressor is deeply ingrained in religion. But at the same time there are many parts of the bible that tells you a "eye for a eye."

For me this feeling of no longer feeling sorry for those whom have preyed on me as a child, is something new for me. I just adapted this thinking in the last week or so, and it shows, I admit. I'm a newbie but I understand the principle so well, I feel like on oldie. I am now like a wild animal, I have no remorse for those who try to do me harm. I will not tolerate it, neither should you.

I am Artemis Hunter: Devoted to The Chase (Poem)

I met a god on the way to the market place

With a smile upon his face

He walked upright

Strong like

His shoulders were bare and a tattoo of my name was engraved across his back

Intrigued, I then followed him until the wind swept him away


I cried in every emotion you can think of

Hoping my guy would reappear

Walking well into the night


"Fall back, my friend…fall back"


"Come unto thee & show me your face"


But the moonlight was not very bright that night

And he was able to hide amongst the shadows of our two worlds

I wish him well

I wish him peace

I never got his name

But neither could I forget mines

It was etched across his back



He can run for now

And at the morning's first light

I will hunt him down

A Letter To The Universe: That Which I Am A Part Of

I received that email I was expecting and just as I suspected I was emotionally bullied and totally misunderstood. Most people have no clue of the steps that are necessary in order to be freed from a life of misery and pain; this goes double for my family. I would share a excerpt from the email but who cares? I have to leave people with little vision alone so that they can get in contact with what they need to do in order to free themselves.

Freedom comes at a cost. It's different for each person, I know. What I must do to be liberated is not what they must do, and the real truth is that I have gotten this far without my family. What do I need to go through their shit for? There is NOTHING for me back there with them.

Dearest Universe,

Here I am a faithful servant with an ego and selfish needs. If I am taking the wrong road with my family, shed your wisdom upon me so that I can do better. There is a lot of pain and hurt in the hearts of my relatives. And it pains me to remain in close contact with them, so I decided to cut all ties until they seek professional help. I know it'll get easier as the years go by, but they don't think I can do it and that alone will remain my inspiration.
I have a writing career I must focus on and my family --who returns my love. My siblings and mothers are very selfish, spiteful people. I admit I was once that way but stone by stone I have built a different kind of life for myself. I am very proud of the changes I have made and I look forward to MANY more. I look forward to establishing myself as a writer, watching my children graduate from college, having grandchildren, returning back to Europe, and remaining partnered up with my husband until our flesh goes back to the earth. And our spirits linger, roam and are truly freed.
If there is something I am not seeing, shine your light on it. Because right now I will have nothing more to do with any of them. I am smiling as I say this because I would have never thought I was able to reach this level of maturity. I have loved them all, one in particular but I draw a line. It was you who have provided me with this strength and insight in the first place. It was you who demanded me to demand more from myself. I have done all that you asked. Is there anything else you need me to do in regards to my family or am I free to move on? I'll await your answer as I always do.
Your devoted servant,
Latasha

PS. How long did they expect me to wait?

Changes

I've heard a lot of people say that their children was their inspiration behind the drastic change in their personal lives. Whether it is developing better eating habits, becoming more disciplined, or something as simple as going green. I must admit, my children were not a factor in any of my changes. For example, I started seeing an psychiatrist because I knew I needed professional help, and if I didn't get any kind of one-on-one attention I was probably not going to be mentally strong enough to make responsible decisions in my future. I didn't want that for myself. I desired a different kind of life where people communicate and not constantly argue and fight with one another. It had Nothing to do with my daughter.

Speaking of which, I left my oldest daughter's father because I could not allow a man to continuously abuse me and beat on me as if I was his personal punching bag. And although I fought him back, that shit was for the birds. But I didn't leave him because of what she deserved. I didn't even think of her when it was time to move on.

My motives were always selfish.

I am bold enough to say admit to having purely selfish motives for almost everything. Of course, I know that when I make a change for the better or worse that my family and close friends will benefit from it, but that's hardly in my mind when I set about making a change. I want happiness. I yearn for peace. I desire a harmonious home and I make the necessary changes for myself. Any change causes a ripple effect, and the changes a person makes for the better or worse are no different.

However, my change in course will always remains selfish.

I believe more people should be selfish, especially women & mothers. I meet more stay at home mothers who complain about NOT being able to get a day to themselves...sad! They feel guilty if they go to the movie theater without their children. They are ashamed to admit that they left their kiddos in the house with their spouse when they are "caught" out alone. (Yes, I've met women who've admitted to being "caught" when they were somewhere without their children.)

I'm sure this is a bit extreme as well, but most people do not know that I have children until they are introduced to them. I am ALWAYS out alone.

It's rather sad and pitiful to not be able to take care of your own needs. To be so wrapped up IN another human being that you lose sight of yourself seems to be extreme and unfair to the soul. I know nothing of living like this.

Wise Men Vs. Mad Men

A balance. Must man always find a balance? I wonder about this as I sit in my living tonight room with my partner. We are two totally different people. He is wise and I am mad. He moves deliberately and I move without much real thought or care. I give way to my mood swings and he is the total opposite. The mood he awakes in, in the morning is the mood he will more than likely remain in for the rest of the day. Of course, there are a few exceptions.

I was reading the bible tonight (Proverbs) and people with my huband's wisdom seems to be highly favored. In fact, the bible gives a lot of advice to men and women who succumb to their passions. It says that we are under the control of something --or somebody. I for one, believe that. Personally speaking, I am a slave to several different things; so is my husband but in many holy books his methods of doing things are still preferred over mines. Why is that?

In my most honest personal opinion, the wise man is the chosen one because he causes very little confusion and has the uncanny ability to please all parties involved in a dispute or altercation. Who wouldn't want that? Every person I know can appreciate the fact that there is someone who can sit down, listen to almost any argument, disagreement or discussion and not only see the views of every person involved but also UNDERSTAND what it takes to keep all interested parties satisfied. He is a rarity, and to be celebrated.

I can tell you from experience this is not the way that matters are handles by passionate people. We operate from a very selfish stand point. Many of us actually believe the way we think is the ONLY way to think. I love Hermann Hesse books, but can tell you if you were to talk to him he would probably appear overly confident and self absorbed. It really takes an unique soul to believe that their way is the only way to live, function and thrive in the world. Not everyone can do it. Not every man will have his or her own philosophy. If they do, not all will profess it like it is The Only Truth.

Wise men know better and that is why certain books like Proverbs in the bible make a lot of sense. Buddha, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr. and the works of women like Mother Teresa normally strike a cord with me and I'd imagine it would be the same for others. I admire people who understand the importance of patience, people, peace and love. Many times they are the people whom we wild creatures go to for our own dose of "wisdom." Kenny is my sounding board which I could never do without. He endures the ups and downs and I dish them out. All in all he is my rock.

I will admit, there is a certain appeal to a wise person. They are slow to judge. This one fact puts them in a category all by themselves and keeps them surrounded with both dedicated and loyal friends. The mad man can not say the same and that is why you have more wild self imposed hermits. Those with the fire will eventually burn out because the energy he puts out is rarely reciprocated. Wise men do not run off into the mountains of Switzerland like the most passionate men but dies amongst his people.

It has nothing to do with ego either. Kenny may be wise but he has an ego. I've seen it. But at the same time, that is what makes him so great; he masters it.

I must admit I am also in awe of writers such as Oscar Wilde who said, "We teach people how to remember, we never teach them how to grow." The more feral and liberated the individual the more I am attracted to them. I despise consistency, boredom and lack of imagination. Structure and details gives me a headache but not the wise man.

All in all, I probably make more mistakes than my husband who evaluates everything, unlike me who jumps in head first...but I like the way I live. I enjoy the person I have become. In many ways, I toy with life and take almost everything for granted. I am the spice of the universe.

But wisdom is the key that is needed in life.

John Burroughs - Look Under Foot

"The lesson which life repeats and constantly enforces is "look under foot"
You are always nearer the divine and the true sources of your power than you think.
The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive.
The great opportunity is where you are.
Do not despise your own place and hour.
Every place is under the stars, every place is of the world."

John Burroughs

Langston Hughes: Dreams & A Dream Deferred

I heard Bro. Sunship from Assata's Forum say this: "I ponder over and over again what Langston Hughes so eloquently alluded to in prose, “what eventually happens when a dream is deferred?”

Could oppression, repression, our diets, some of our most caustic music, let alone the schizo way we have to relate to this bastardize reality finally metastasize into a nurturing of mental illness in some socio-psychological sense over time?

Can hundreds of thousands of years of our brains being developed in a certain conducive and natural environment be finally finding it impossible to ward off, or assimilate into, or decipher this racist exilic madness called, western civilization?

How long did we think Africans (the original people) could survive under another’s cultural behaviorisms, which we see is further distorting man’s relationship to the natural and the spirit world?"

Every time I read those paragraphs I feel a deep punch to the gut. I have thought long and hard on this topic --what happens when a dream is deferred? Have you ever thought about it? I have, and too often I see that the people without dreams, faith and determination check out early. It's hard to reach them.

A DREAM DEFERRED

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DREAMS

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

PS. If anybody is interested in Brother SunShip's full comment let me know and I will do the necessary digging and get it back to you.

Ain't I A Woman

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman?

Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

A Poem For My Mother

Her hair is very long, luscious, dark and wavy...when gathered together in your hands it smells as if the earth conspired with her sometime ago...and agreed to show her favor...her skin gives off the appearance of butter milk...wet and youthful...like dew... mysterious to all of those around her...including herself...her smile spoke of what could have been...days before...her demeanor was always luke warm...she haunted the daydreams of those that desired to penetrate deeper but would always be forbidden.

she's very unique.

each time I fall asleep.

I desire to know more about my mother.

Dedicated to Sister Seeking: And to Any Other Woman Who Seeks

And like that it's all over. I've exhausted all possibilities with my relatives and came up empty-handed with nothing to show for it either. No more, guys. If you are one of the very few people brave enough to stop the cycle of abuse, break all ties to any of your family members who are unwilling to get professional help. There is nothing you can do for them. They will always see themselves as victims.

Here are a few of the many comments that have changed my mind. If you care to, you are more than welcomed (and even encouraged) to follow the discussion here at: http://muslimbushido.blogspot.com/2008/09/reality-check-what-black-underclass-is.html

First, let me give you a little background on what I am talking about. A while back I posted a blog entry titled, Why I Can't Just Pull An Antwon Fisher. It was written because I was still emotionally attached to my siblings and to my mother. I knew I needed to do something extreme as Antwon did but at that time I was still emotionally chained. But G-d knows my heart.

Yesterday I read the very first comment below and it put me on the spot. It was like holding a mirror up at myself. Then I woke up and read the remaining comments that I'll share with you. I have been in a daze ever since.

Sister Khadija made this comment: "It sickens me when people are shocked when I say the following: Once I find out that a woman is dating, affiliating, or whatever with a man who is a sexual predator, I cut that woman off. Completely. I don't care who they are. Or who they USED TO BE to me.

This comment forced me to admit that my mother and siblings should have NO contact with any of the men that molested me. None what so ever. But they do…they all do.

And sister Khadija also made this comment: "The mothers who've allowed their children to be molested viewed themselves as victims. Everything is always all about them. No matter what they have done, they see themselves as the "true" victims in every situation."

Want me to tell you something? I just spoke to my mother last year about still having dealings with one of the jerks who molested me, and she told me I was being selfish and only thinking about myself because she needed him to help out of a physical altercation with her husband. She called the man who----

Sister Seeking said this: "I know first hand by intimate personal experience that when you do view them as victims you reinforce their world view. I'd like to add something else to that: when a whole group of people buy into the victimization scandal it punishes innocent by standards. Case and point: when I terminated my mothers parental rights I was emotionally bullied by all my biological family members as being "selfish" " ungrateful" "hateful" and get this: "IMPATIENT."

This comment hit home with me because since I came back from visiting my family in Philadelphia this past May, I have been emotionally bullied by my mother's support team because I can not just "forgive" her. People in my family has this sick notion that I should just be more grateful and less selfish.

Sister Seeking: "Saying all of this to say: I don't have a bond with ANY of my biological family members because of their refusal to get professional help which is free as well as their refusal to take personal responsibility and manage their life."

I'll let this statement stand alone.

Sister Seeking: "Do you know what I believe brought us to our place of rest today? In addition to G-d's mercy, I believe that people like us have a certain degree of rebelliousness--a higher level of resilience that was present from birth on. From a preschooler on, I always knew something was terribly wrong with my family, and childhood. From early on I developed a protest spirit refusing to be beat down or beat up by other people. My defiance or " oppositional disorder" was not a result of mental illness, drugs, or the desire to rebel against authority--it was my innate disposition to rebel against oppression, and just pure evil. The flame inside me never has died. This is why I recognized early on that I was going to become another statistic if I didn't get out of the foster care system--and fast. This is why I terminated my mothers parental rights. And today with only a meek, and humble heart to the Almighty can a truly declare victory becuase I refused to pissed on, and defecated on by people. I did waver but my anger motivated me to fight back."

I'm done guys. Just like that it's finished. I have no ties with any of my biological family on my mother's side. I can't tell you what it's like but it is different. I am even really proud of myself for this last step because my elder was not here when I took it. These comments really resonated with me in such a way I walked right out of bondage. Just walked out of the chains. I'll remember this day for the rest of my life.