I got the sudden urge to run away today.
Faced with one too many tragic stories of homicide & destitution. Emotional slavery & utter hopelessness. Tired of watching the news. Sick of irresponsible hands carrying the wealth of the world. Weary of things "just being the way they are".
It's not that my problems and issues are so overwhelming that I'd rather flee than fight...it's just that today my mind entertained the notion of a life somewhere other than here. And I wondered what it would feel like...
I would breathe.
Embrace the ability to pause & appreciate the clean air go in. and out of my body.
Thanking God for this invisible gift that we exhaust so frivolously.
Literally thanking Him for life.
Giving no thought to a day when the last tree will die.
How would this feel?
I would love.
Openly and fiercely. Without one ounce of apprehension or regard to the word "consequence".
Deplete myself into my love's frame like I was girded to since Creation.
...No one knows of the condom, rape, or AIDS here.
Sex is as holy and as free as God.
So I thank Him & caress the healthy, pink cheek of my newborn son.
How would this feel?
I would smile.
Open-mouth grin at my neighbor. And she would beam with a warmth so genuine it widens my smile.
But kindness is so natural here...we have no need for many words.
I notice the sun's rays as it reflects off of her skin. I marvel. The color of warm milk it is.
I see the beauty in her own hue & she embraces it in mine.
We two free from all unspoken bias & our history of segregation.
...because there is so much that we share: I embody her.
How would this feel?
To run my hands into the earth...
...and not argue over its age or war over its contents.
To worship the Creator with my life...
...without Man's disclosure to serve him first.
To hear Love clearly...
...because the voice of Hate is too faint to make out...
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Since When?....(July Edition)
1st, watch this video...
My question is:
Since when does being from the streets mean you have to act all rude? And since when does being "real" give you the right to talk to people, especially the public, in whatever manner you think is necessary?
I feel sorry for this young sister because she is undoubtedly creating a negative reputation for herself; meanwhile burning a lot of bridges. She forgot that there are a lot of people that helped her achieve her minimal amount of fame. (Which by the way, fame that is grounded in beef and controversy is destined to come and go.) She keeps going off on fans, other artists, and media moguls...but she's unknowingly writing a huge R.I.P on her career. No one takes her seriously.
Plus, she, along with Trina, Remy Ma, Foxxy Brown, Lil Kim are setting future Female Emcees back. That's my real problem. Absolutely NO respect for the industry or the people who paid dues so that you can even pick up a mic.
Example: Khia openly dissed Janet Jackson, who most graciously featured her on her newest album Discipline. She actually said that Janet isn't relevant anymore and that there is no comparison between their two careers. IS SHE SERIOUS?!!!
Since when does one hit back in 2002, another in 2005, and current controversy count you worthy to be in the same category with a woman who's been making platinum records since the 80s???
She is an embarrassment to the hood & to the industry. She's even an embarrassment to dirty south rap.
My question is:
Since when does being from the streets mean you have to act all rude? And since when does being "real" give you the right to talk to people, especially the public, in whatever manner you think is necessary?
I feel sorry for this young sister because she is undoubtedly creating a negative reputation for herself; meanwhile burning a lot of bridges. She forgot that there are a lot of people that helped her achieve her minimal amount of fame. (Which by the way, fame that is grounded in beef and controversy is destined to come and go.) She keeps going off on fans, other artists, and media moguls...but she's unknowingly writing a huge R.I.P on her career. No one takes her seriously.
Plus, she, along with Trina, Remy Ma, Foxxy Brown, Lil Kim are setting future Female Emcees back. That's my real problem. Absolutely NO respect for the industry or the people who paid dues so that you can even pick up a mic.
Example: Khia openly dissed Janet Jackson, who most graciously featured her on her newest album Discipline. She actually said that Janet isn't relevant anymore and that there is no comparison between their two careers. IS SHE SERIOUS?!!!
Since when does one hit back in 2002, another in 2005, and current controversy count you worthy to be in the same category with a woman who's been making platinum records since the 80s???
She is an embarrassment to the hood & to the industry. She's even an embarrassment to dirty south rap.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Ode.to.Your.Manhood.[Response to N.Steven's "Oh, To Be A Ladyface"]
I had promised that I would give an answer to n.steven's blog. But I was waiting on the right inspiration...which I received sometime today.
I will start by mirroring his initial statement with one of my own:
I could NOT be a man.
God forbid the morning will come that I wake up...only to find that a certain member of my body decided to get up without my permission. I'm sure men get a real kick out of that, but I personally would not want the catalyst for mankind precariously dangling between my legs. I mean, that's too much vulnerability for me, personally.
Men, from a bird's eye view, have it extremely easy.
I mean, they automatically dodge some of nature's most difficult responsibilities. (One Word: childbirth.) They get to take joy in the process of conception, but take the role of spectator for the next 9 months. It hardly seems fair. Some would say that the definition of justice would be for a 10 lb baby to be birthed by just ONE man. (And since no baby's ever been birthed through an anus...there's only one more avenue left other than a Cesarean Section...hahah. )
However, looking at societal woes, men definitely carry their fair share. One of the amazing things about being a woman, is that we can try on different social personalities with ease and acceptance. I can be a tough and loud-mouthed CEO AND I can be a docile and caring wife/mother. I can dress sophisticated one night, and rock NY grit on a Saturday. Men aren't able to slide into different roles so easily. There are many expectations placed on a man's shoulders, and any man who doesn't live up to those...will, by definition, cease to be a man.
Plus, in the relationship, women expect much from men. We literally want them to be superman in every occasion/situation. Not only is he meant to be the provider for the home, but he is also the protector, handyman, mechanic, Don Juan, & Dr. Huxtable. He's gotta keep his body looking like LL Cool J & his mind sharp like Dr. Cornel West. It's a direct shot to who he is as a man if he slacks in either one of these. Rarely does he have any real support from his friends, because they are either happily single, or miserably taken...it's hard for him to look around and see good examples of what a man looks like. So, he makes it up as he goes along. And women get frustrated because they assume that being a man is easy and that they should have "gotten it together" somewhere around puberty.
Fathers "push" their sons. Because "being a man" is the first real achievement. But even once he feels like he may have achieved it...a circumstance, a female, or another male will come along and "tell" him that he isn't able to fill those shoes. Some men preservere, some are wounded.
I admire men very much...however, there are many things that I just do NOT understand...
1. Note that there is a difference between having a sense of humor and being obnoxious. Dane Cook is funny. But you...are obnoxious. And no one finds you funny except for those 3 guys that always hang around you because they have no life.
2. What is sexy about a man in a spandex bathing suit??? Please, someone explain that to me.
3. What makes you think that just because I am female that I don't get baseball stats or play NBA Live 07? Try assuming that the average girl KNOWS about these things, and you are in for a treat.
4. Why does every guy think that he's the best at basketball? Just shut up and play. Geez....
5. Girls are expected to do all the work on the dance floor these days. Why?
I'll end this post with a question: Which of these two pictures signifies what a real man is?
or
I will start by mirroring his initial statement with one of my own:
I could NOT be a man.
God forbid the morning will come that I wake up...only to find that a certain member of my body decided to get up without my permission. I'm sure men get a real kick out of that, but I personally would not want the catalyst for mankind precariously dangling between my legs. I mean, that's too much vulnerability for me, personally.
Men, from a bird's eye view, have it extremely easy.
I mean, they automatically dodge some of nature's most difficult responsibilities. (One Word: childbirth.) They get to take joy in the process of conception, but take the role of spectator for the next 9 months. It hardly seems fair. Some would say that the definition of justice would be for a 10 lb baby to be birthed by just ONE man. (And since no baby's ever been birthed through an anus...there's only one more avenue left other than a Cesarean Section...hahah. )
However, looking at societal woes, men definitely carry their fair share. One of the amazing things about being a woman, is that we can try on different social personalities with ease and acceptance. I can be a tough and loud-mouthed CEO AND I can be a docile and caring wife/mother. I can dress sophisticated one night, and rock NY grit on a Saturday. Men aren't able to slide into different roles so easily. There are many expectations placed on a man's shoulders, and any man who doesn't live up to those...will, by definition, cease to be a man.
Plus, in the relationship, women expect much from men. We literally want them to be superman in every occasion/situation. Not only is he meant to be the provider for the home, but he is also the protector, handyman, mechanic, Don Juan, & Dr. Huxtable. He's gotta keep his body looking like LL Cool J & his mind sharp like Dr. Cornel West. It's a direct shot to who he is as a man if he slacks in either one of these. Rarely does he have any real support from his friends, because they are either happily single, or miserably taken...it's hard for him to look around and see good examples of what a man looks like. So, he makes it up as he goes along. And women get frustrated because they assume that being a man is easy and that they should have "gotten it together" somewhere around puberty.
Fathers "push" their sons. Because "being a man" is the first real achievement. But even once he feels like he may have achieved it...a circumstance, a female, or another male will come along and "tell" him that he isn't able to fill those shoes. Some men preservere, some are wounded.
I admire men very much...however, there are many things that I just do NOT understand...
1. Note that there is a difference between having a sense of humor and being obnoxious. Dane Cook is funny. But you...are obnoxious. And no one finds you funny except for those 3 guys that always hang around you because they have no life.
2. What is sexy about a man in a spandex bathing suit??? Please, someone explain that to me.
3. What makes you think that just because I am female that I don't get baseball stats or play NBA Live 07? Try assuming that the average girl KNOWS about these things, and you are in for a treat.
4. Why does every guy think that he's the best at basketball? Just shut up and play. Geez....
5. Girls are expected to do all the work on the dance floor these days. Why?
I'll end this post with a question: Which of these two pictures signifies what a real man is?
or
Monday, July 21, 2008
[Speaking.of.the."N".Word...]
I would LOVE some comments on this one....
My "view" (hahah):
I don't think this word is acceptable in any fashion, in any context, within or regarding any race. Period.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Hebrew.Israelites. & Black.Women.
I found this on a sister blogger's page, and this is the most upsetting thing I've seen since watching Amistad the first time. I will NOT put this video on my page directly because of the severe language, but I will post the link.
Be warned that this may make you extremely angry, so proceed with caution.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaKNKztbueM
Be warned that this may make you extremely angry, so proceed with caution.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaKNKztbueM
The "Haterz" Phenomenon
"Hater"
After hearing this word for the millionth time, I decided to study it. Figure out why this word has become a Philosophy. A Doctrine even. I've heard preachers use it from pulpits. It was the topic of choice for my (S)he-ro's first single off of her new album: The Real Thing. It hit our society like a meteor, as if it is the Diagnoses for all of our problems. It is the Root & it becomes the Enemy.
"Don't even worry about her, girl...She ain't nothing but a hater."
We already live in a want-driven society. We don't want a thing for long, though, because there is always something newer, brighter, or more upscale to want. Nothing wrong with wanting things, but WHY do we want them? They don't seem to deeply satisfy something, so there must be some temporal need that it meets.
My grandmother used to say that people are always trying to "Keep Up with the Jones' ". Remember that term? Some of us are literally in a race to outdo everyone else. And by "everyone else", I mean our peers. Our neighbors. The girl that's dating my ex. Even our friends. Yes, even them. We are afraid to let others shine because we think that it means we lose a little bit of our own light. And we were raised and taught throughout life that "No one's light is more important than yours." & "Don't let anyone shine more than you."
So, let's look at the two people involved in this "Hate"' relationship: the hated and the hater. By definition, the hater is uncomfortable with the hated getting so much attention, and purposefully slanders the reputation of the hated, so that people will praise them less. Secondly, the hated is "innocently" shining, and becomes subjected to the hater's wrath. They therefore, dislike the hater. Thus, completing the cycle...
In the beginning of this phenomenon, the hated acted like victims, gaining the pity of those rallying around them. But now, suddenly, the hated are now boasting at the number of haters they had. It has become a desirable attribute in life. No one wishes to live peaceably with their neighbor, or to cultivate loving relationships, but they would rather increase in the number of people who "hate" on their way of living. The hated quickly say that the opinions of the hater means nothing, but will turn right around and feed their ego with the jealousy of who?...that's right: The Hater.
The root of the two names can be attributed to the two extremes of Self-Esteem. The Hated are often so self-absorbed that they sum the Hater's negativity down to being a "Hater". Many times it is the very first judgement they come to. And instead of seeking restitution with the other person, they would rather stand on their insubstantial conclusion. As stated before, it is often the most saught after rationale. The "Hater", however, usually struggle with a lower level of self-esteem; emphasizing the accomplishments of others and ignoring with makes them unique.
The Remedy for both? In the simplest terms, the Hater needs to love himself and the Hated needs to get over himself....They should both then work on uplifting the other; becoming totally comfortable with allowing him or her to shine as bright as he or she possibly can.
It's a dark world and we need all the light we can get...
Let Love Reign.
After hearing this word for the millionth time, I decided to study it. Figure out why this word has become a Philosophy. A Doctrine even. I've heard preachers use it from pulpits. It was the topic of choice for my (S)he-ro's first single off of her new album: The Real Thing. It hit our society like a meteor, as if it is the Diagnoses for all of our problems. It is the Root & it becomes the Enemy.
"Don't even worry about her, girl...She ain't nothing but a hater."
We already live in a want-driven society. We don't want a thing for long, though, because there is always something newer, brighter, or more upscale to want. Nothing wrong with wanting things, but WHY do we want them? They don't seem to deeply satisfy something, so there must be some temporal need that it meets.
My grandmother used to say that people are always trying to "Keep Up with the Jones' ". Remember that term? Some of us are literally in a race to outdo everyone else. And by "everyone else", I mean our peers. Our neighbors. The girl that's dating my ex. Even our friends. Yes, even them. We are afraid to let others shine because we think that it means we lose a little bit of our own light. And we were raised and taught throughout life that "No one's light is more important than yours." & "Don't let anyone shine more than you."
So, let's look at the two people involved in this "Hate"' relationship: the hated and the hater. By definition, the hater is uncomfortable with the hated getting so much attention, and purposefully slanders the reputation of the hated, so that people will praise them less. Secondly, the hated is "innocently" shining, and becomes subjected to the hater's wrath. They therefore, dislike the hater. Thus, completing the cycle...
In the beginning of this phenomenon, the hated acted like victims, gaining the pity of those rallying around them. But now, suddenly, the hated are now boasting at the number of haters they had. It has become a desirable attribute in life. No one wishes to live peaceably with their neighbor, or to cultivate loving relationships, but they would rather increase in the number of people who "hate" on their way of living. The hated quickly say that the opinions of the hater means nothing, but will turn right around and feed their ego with the jealousy of who?...that's right: The Hater.
The root of the two names can be attributed to the two extremes of Self-Esteem. The Hated are often so self-absorbed that they sum the Hater's negativity down to being a "Hater". Many times it is the very first judgement they come to. And instead of seeking restitution with the other person, they would rather stand on their insubstantial conclusion. As stated before, it is often the most saught after rationale. The "Hater", however, usually struggle with a lower level of self-esteem; emphasizing the accomplishments of others and ignoring with makes them unique.
The Remedy for both? In the simplest terms, the Hater needs to love himself and the Hated needs to get over himself....They should both then work on uplifting the other; becoming totally comfortable with allowing him or her to shine as bright as he or she possibly can.
It's a dark world and we need all the light we can get...
Let Love Reign.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Quote for the Night...
"Do I need to appear "Black", in the manner in which blacks are negatively portrayed in the media, to be considered "Black"?...I am an educated, well-spoken black woman. My race is one of my many attributes; neither limiting, nor defining. I represent the culmination of my experiences, and the many cultures that have influenced me. I represent the colors of my ancestors. But most of all, I represent myself, and of that, I am most proud."
--Renee Delphin, 1997
--Renee Delphin, 1997
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Blur That I Call "College"...
August 2006-May 2007
Freshman/Sophomore Year
Summary:My first year at Liberty University was memorable. I had amazing roommates & got exposed to African culture for the very first time. Got decent grades & goofed off a lot on Facebook. I broke rules and did things that shock me to this day. I performed poetry in public for the first time & earned my stage name. I began and ended a relationship during this school year, and laid the foundation for my current relationship. Ended on the brightest note. All in all, I saw how tough life can be when you are determined to live it only for yourself.
Clubs:I was recruited mid-semester into Student Leadership as a Dormitory Prayer Leader on my hall.
Relationship Status:Dated a guy without being friends first, it ended after 6 months.
GPA:2.53
Favorite class:English 102
Lessons learned:
1.Know your boundaries.
2."When people show you who they are, believe them."
3.Experimentation isn't always fun.
4.Be brave. Speak up.
5.Appearances can lie.
6.Remembering where you come from does not require you to look back.
7.Your fears aren't made of stone...walk through them.
8.Work FIRST, play afterward.
9.Love is never soft or weak, but it is the strongest attribute a person can possess.
10.Forgive.
Pic to sum up the year:
August 2007-May 2008
Sophomore/Junior Year
Summary:Possibly the hardest/best year of my life to date. Everything that I thought was unbreakable inside of me was broken, and I didn't think it was capable to have so much love surrounding you. I fell in love with my best friend, stood by him during one of the hardest times of his life, and even became best friends with his best friend... I endured the death of a dream, & its resurrection. I grew poetically; writing almost everyday. I took active political/social roles on campus. My love life broke new ground, even through a long period of separation. I had a better year academically, also. In general, this year was quite the adventure.
Clubs: Center for M.E. (Multicultural Enrichment), The E.Q.U.A.L.I.T.Y Factor Movement, 2nd year as Prayer Leader and earned a spot as a Resident Assistant this upcoming year.
Relationship Status: Madly in love.
GPA:2.76
Favorite Class:Psychology 351(Multicultural Counseling & Research)
Lessons:
1.Smile more.
2.Take a chance on yourself.
3.God knows what He's doing...so trust Him.
4.Hold nothing back.
5.Love is as explainable as God.
6.Relax.
7.Know what you believe and why, and be ready to speak when someone calls on you for an answer.
8.Your true friends are there despite inconvenience.
9. Use a thesaurus.
10.Writing is NEVER for the author's benefit.
Pic to sum up the year:
August 2008-May 2009
Senior Year
Stay tuned....
Here's a pic of things to come:
Freshman/Sophomore Year
Summary:My first year at Liberty University was memorable. I had amazing roommates & got exposed to African culture for the very first time. Got decent grades & goofed off a lot on Facebook. I broke rules and did things that shock me to this day. I performed poetry in public for the first time & earned my stage name. I began and ended a relationship during this school year, and laid the foundation for my current relationship. Ended on the brightest note. All in all, I saw how tough life can be when you are determined to live it only for yourself.
Clubs:I was recruited mid-semester into Student Leadership as a Dormitory Prayer Leader on my hall.
Relationship Status:Dated a guy without being friends first, it ended after 6 months.
GPA:2.53
Favorite class:English 102
Lessons learned:
1.Know your boundaries.
2."When people show you who they are, believe them."
3.Experimentation isn't always fun.
4.Be brave. Speak up.
5.Appearances can lie.
6.Remembering where you come from does not require you to look back.
7.Your fears aren't made of stone...walk through them.
8.Work FIRST, play afterward.
9.Love is never soft or weak, but it is the strongest attribute a person can possess.
10.Forgive.
Pic to sum up the year:
August 2007-May 2008
Sophomore/Junior Year
Summary:Possibly the hardest/best year of my life to date. Everything that I thought was unbreakable inside of me was broken, and I didn't think it was capable to have so much love surrounding you. I fell in love with my best friend, stood by him during one of the hardest times of his life, and even became best friends with his best friend... I endured the death of a dream, & its resurrection. I grew poetically; writing almost everyday. I took active political/social roles on campus. My love life broke new ground, even through a long period of separation. I had a better year academically, also. In general, this year was quite the adventure.
Clubs: Center for M.E. (Multicultural Enrichment), The E.Q.U.A.L.I.T.Y Factor Movement, 2nd year as Prayer Leader and earned a spot as a Resident Assistant this upcoming year.
Relationship Status: Madly in love.
GPA:2.76
Favorite Class:Psychology 351(Multicultural Counseling & Research)
Lessons:
1.Smile more.
2.Take a chance on yourself.
3.God knows what He's doing...so trust Him.
4.Hold nothing back.
5.Love is as explainable as God.
6.Relax.
7.Know what you believe and why, and be ready to speak when someone calls on you for an answer.
8.Your true friends are there despite inconvenience.
9. Use a thesaurus.
10.Writing is NEVER for the author's benefit.
Pic to sum up the year:
August 2008-May 2009
Senior Year
Stay tuned....
Here's a pic of things to come:
Monday, July 14, 2008
The Mindless Menace of Violence by Senator Robert Kennedy
Read & comment...
...or you can listen here.
But please take in these words & see how they relate to you personally.
God bless.
**************************************************************************
City Club of Cleveland, Cleveland, Ohio April 5, 1968
Mr Chairmen,Ladies And Gentlemen
This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.
It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.
Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.
No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.
Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.
"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lost their cause and pay the costs."
Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.
Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.
For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.
This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.
I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.
We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.
Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.
We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.
Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.
...or you can listen here.
But please take in these words & see how they relate to you personally.
God bless.
**************************************************************************
City Club of Cleveland, Cleveland, Ohio April 5, 1968
Mr Chairmen,Ladies And Gentlemen
This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.
It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.
Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.
No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.
Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.
"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lost their cause and pay the costs."
Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.
Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.
For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.
This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.
I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.
We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.
Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.
We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.
Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Amazing Grace: Just the Black Notes...
This brought tears to my eyes...feel free to comment.
My personal comments:
The words to this well known song speaks louder to me than ever before. The grace of God is for us all. Black and white. Victim and oppressor. Free and slave.
My personal comments:
The words to this well known song speaks louder to me than ever before. The grace of God is for us all. Black and white. Victim and oppressor. Free and slave.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself...
Question:Where have you been?
Answer:Inner-city youth camp in Missouri
Question:How was it?
Answer:It was the hardest/best experience of my life, thank you.
Question:Did you learn anything? You know...about yourself, maybe?
Answer:I'm glad you asked that question...
I'm used to getting consistently poured into. And I am accustomed to getting drawn from. But never has it happened at the exact same time. Each second of the day, someone needed me, and I was always given something new. Mainly lessons. I feel like my heart has taken on some weird shape, and I'm getting reacquainted with it. Things surfaced from the inside of me that made me ashamed, and other things excited me. I believe I was placed in an environment where I could adequately begin to express a joy that was smothered. Disappointment & fear enabled me to keep silent, and when bad things happened (which they are promised to do), it was easy for me to lose more joy...considering I didn't have a firm grip on it in the first place.
I learned to exercise my own two emotional legs; learning to uplift my OWN spirit. Relying on my own huge, but personal Heavenly Father to heal my wounds. I didn't see how weak I'd made myself on behalf of others; mistaking dormancy for gentleness. Not so.
This isn't a mere self-help lesson, but a self-less lesson. So, before I end this blog, I will list another "6 Things" list. Enjoy reader, you've been missed...
6. I love my corny sense of humor.
I've come to notice that it works on most people... plus, it's too much work being "the funny one", because everyone will expect you to be funny. Specializing in silliness, I'm the one that everyone shakes their head at, saying, "Ha. Oh, Brittney...."
5. I love music.
And I don't say that lightly like most people would say it...I truly do. From the hi jinks of OutKast to the subtle soulfulness of Celine Dion, I love it all. Faith Hill to Miles Davis, just give me real music. I pledge loyalty to any artist or musician who places entertainment second. Anyone who wishes to be seen, make money, or gain publicity will get my nod, but not my props. There is soooo much good music out there, but I thank God for the posers. It's easier to tell who's real by acknowledging the fake. I am so serious. Music is therapy. From the professional Italian opera to novice high school musicals, I love music. Give me music.
4. I have an eye for fashion.
Sometimes, I honestly wish my wallet obeyed my fashion sense, but there are times when it's not necessary. It goes beyond matching (which I take every opportunity NOT to) and looking crisp and neat. I like to take risks with my style. I would call my style "mildly experimental".
3. I want to adopt as many kids as I naturally have.
Yep. If I have 3, I want to adopt 3. Sounds insane I know, but it would be amazing to keep 3 brothers/sisters together who need a home, without separating them? Triplets would be awesome.
2. I cry too easily.
I noticed this about myself. Things that would make people melancholy almost break my heart to pieces. Earlier I was watching this movie where a guy died tragically. Only a couple of scenes earlier, he was cold to his wife and contemplating cheating on her, and I was ticked at him. "Who is this guy?" I was thinking. The moment he died, I was in tears!
...sad, I know. But don't laugh at me, I'm sensitive, remember?
1. If I didn't know any better...I would swear that I have multiple personalities.
Seriously. I understand that people have moods, but my dominant moods all have names, and they are all strong in their own way. When I am sad, I am really sad. When I am silly, I am especially silly. When I am righteously enraged, watch out. When I am affectionate....well....
Answer:Inner-city youth camp in Missouri
Question:How was it?
Answer:It was the hardest/best experience of my life, thank you.
Question:Did you learn anything? You know...about yourself, maybe?
Answer:I'm glad you asked that question...
I'm used to getting consistently poured into. And I am accustomed to getting drawn from. But never has it happened at the exact same time. Each second of the day, someone needed me, and I was always given something new. Mainly lessons. I feel like my heart has taken on some weird shape, and I'm getting reacquainted with it. Things surfaced from the inside of me that made me ashamed, and other things excited me. I believe I was placed in an environment where I could adequately begin to express a joy that was smothered. Disappointment & fear enabled me to keep silent, and when bad things happened (which they are promised to do), it was easy for me to lose more joy...considering I didn't have a firm grip on it in the first place.
I learned to exercise my own two emotional legs; learning to uplift my OWN spirit. Relying on my own huge, but personal Heavenly Father to heal my wounds. I didn't see how weak I'd made myself on behalf of others; mistaking dormancy for gentleness. Not so.
This isn't a mere self-help lesson, but a self-less lesson. So, before I end this blog, I will list another "6 Things" list. Enjoy reader, you've been missed...
6. I love my corny sense of humor.
I've come to notice that it works on most people... plus, it's too much work being "the funny one", because everyone will expect you to be funny. Specializing in silliness, I'm the one that everyone shakes their head at, saying, "Ha. Oh, Brittney...."
5. I love music.
And I don't say that lightly like most people would say it...I truly do. From the hi jinks of OutKast to the subtle soulfulness of Celine Dion, I love it all. Faith Hill to Miles Davis, just give me real music. I pledge loyalty to any artist or musician who places entertainment second. Anyone who wishes to be seen, make money, or gain publicity will get my nod, but not my props. There is soooo much good music out there, but I thank God for the posers. It's easier to tell who's real by acknowledging the fake. I am so serious. Music is therapy. From the professional Italian opera to novice high school musicals, I love music. Give me music.
4. I have an eye for fashion.
Sometimes, I honestly wish my wallet obeyed my fashion sense, but there are times when it's not necessary. It goes beyond matching (which I take every opportunity NOT to) and looking crisp and neat. I like to take risks with my style. I would call my style "mildly experimental".
3. I want to adopt as many kids as I naturally have.
Yep. If I have 3, I want to adopt 3. Sounds insane I know, but it would be amazing to keep 3 brothers/sisters together who need a home, without separating them? Triplets would be awesome.
2. I cry too easily.
I noticed this about myself. Things that would make people melancholy almost break my heart to pieces. Earlier I was watching this movie where a guy died tragically. Only a couple of scenes earlier, he was cold to his wife and contemplating cheating on her, and I was ticked at him. "Who is this guy?" I was thinking. The moment he died, I was in tears!
...sad, I know. But don't laugh at me, I'm sensitive, remember?
1. If I didn't know any better...I would swear that I have multiple personalities.
Seriously. I understand that people have moods, but my dominant moods all have names, and they are all strong in their own way. When I am sad, I am really sad. When I am silly, I am especially silly. When I am righteously enraged, watch out. When I am affectionate....well....
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
6.Things.
...that you may or may not know about me...
6. I love to laugh.
I wish I did it more often. Any type of humor is okay with me...even the style that is controversial. Humor is only inappropriate within the context of its environment. (ie: You don't make racist jokes at an NAACP council meeting.) As for my own sense of humor, I suck. I'm corny. I cause more awkward silences/pauses more than I make people laugh. But yet, I try. Because I struggle with taking things, most of all myself, too seriously...
5. Tradition annoys me.
I believe that tradition is good for foundation's sake, but only that. If we never seek to build on that foundation, then we will depreciate the value of what is being built. I will esteem the ancient, but I will also strive to move forward; embracing change.
4. I am insightful.
I say this not in boast, because this is a blessing and a curse. Growing up, I knew all about my parents problems, because I felt stress in my home. I can tell when somethings wrong with people I barely know. Sometimes, I sense dishonesty and "evil". I have "bad feelings" that have usually been correct. At times I listen to this insight, and there are times when I ignore them. But I know that is why I'm more cautious than most.
3. I want lots of children.
I love kids on a level that's scary. Every time I see a child under 10, I go "Awww" to myself, and I feel a flutter inside my chest. It feels like love, almost. And that's weird because I don't have any kids of my own yet. It isn't that I think babies are adorable or innocent, but it's because of what they represent in the world. There are many things that are trying to kill the potential of our children, and no one seems to sense the unspoken urgency that I do. Plus, one of the highest privileges a woman can have is to be a mother (in my opinion).
2. I think...literally...all day.
I heard from a teacher that human beings use only 25-30% of their total brain mass. I think I use up to 45%. Ha. And not necessarily on intellect...but on my thoughts. I caught myself earlier thinking about 3 different things at once, and when I forced myself to think about nothing, it actually led to me thinking about different conversations I'd had with people about thinking too much. And so on, and so on....hahah. So yeah, I think too much. ::shrugs::
1. Love is my highest & deepest desire.
In every form and fashion. I want to experience it in all the ways it was created to be. I want to feel love for a pet. I want to love a child that is my own. I want to love a stranger. I want to love my spouse. I want to love a friend. I want to love my parents. I want to love God. This is one of the reasons why I cling to the Creator of my beliefs so tightly...because I've tried to love without Him, and I failed. I tried other ways, and I failed. The only way that I can totally experience and give love is to know its Source. Including His Son: Jesus Christ (because He exemplified Love in it's essence). So you see, this isn't just a religion to me, it's a relationship. It's my survival that's at stake.
6. I love to laugh.
I wish I did it more often. Any type of humor is okay with me...even the style that is controversial. Humor is only inappropriate within the context of its environment. (ie: You don't make racist jokes at an NAACP council meeting.) As for my own sense of humor, I suck. I'm corny. I cause more awkward silences/pauses more than I make people laugh. But yet, I try. Because I struggle with taking things, most of all myself, too seriously...
5. Tradition annoys me.
I believe that tradition is good for foundation's sake, but only that. If we never seek to build on that foundation, then we will depreciate the value of what is being built. I will esteem the ancient, but I will also strive to move forward; embracing change.
4. I am insightful.
I say this not in boast, because this is a blessing and a curse. Growing up, I knew all about my parents problems, because I felt stress in my home. I can tell when somethings wrong with people I barely know. Sometimes, I sense dishonesty and "evil". I have "bad feelings" that have usually been correct. At times I listen to this insight, and there are times when I ignore them. But I know that is why I'm more cautious than most.
3. I want lots of children.
I love kids on a level that's scary. Every time I see a child under 10, I go "Awww" to myself, and I feel a flutter inside my chest. It feels like love, almost. And that's weird because I don't have any kids of my own yet. It isn't that I think babies are adorable or innocent, but it's because of what they represent in the world. There are many things that are trying to kill the potential of our children, and no one seems to sense the unspoken urgency that I do. Plus, one of the highest privileges a woman can have is to be a mother (in my opinion).
2. I think...literally...all day.
I heard from a teacher that human beings use only 25-30% of their total brain mass. I think I use up to 45%. Ha. And not necessarily on intellect...but on my thoughts. I caught myself earlier thinking about 3 different things at once, and when I forced myself to think about nothing, it actually led to me thinking about different conversations I'd had with people about thinking too much. And so on, and so on....hahah. So yeah, I think too much. ::shrugs::
1. Love is my highest & deepest desire.
In every form and fashion. I want to experience it in all the ways it was created to be. I want to feel love for a pet. I want to love a child that is my own. I want to love a stranger. I want to love my spouse. I want to love a friend. I want to love my parents. I want to love God. This is one of the reasons why I cling to the Creator of my beliefs so tightly...because I've tried to love without Him, and I failed. I tried other ways, and I failed. The only way that I can totally experience and give love is to know its Source. Including His Son: Jesus Christ (because He exemplified Love in it's essence). So you see, this isn't just a religion to me, it's a relationship. It's my survival that's at stake.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
"Tommy...You Ain't Got No Job Mayyynn!!!!" (Haiku)
...inspired by a fellow blogger. Chew on it.
worse than laziness:
disguising idleness or
work without progress.
worse than laziness:
disguising idleness or
work without progress.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Build.An.Alter.
I went and ate lunch alone today...it was nice.
...and I started thinking.
When people in the Old Testament (of the Bible, I mean) were met with
certain provisions, or something life-changing happened to them, or God
revealed something new, they did one main thing:
They built an alter.
When God changed Jacob's name to Israel, he built a memorial on that very spot.
Serving as a physical memory. A reminder of what took place.
2008 so far has been a literal dramatic crescendo of events. I mean, one thing after the other. One challenge after another. And I've been presented with an expectant future. Lots to look forward to. And plenty to worry about.
...but I won't.
I'll simply grab a hammer & a handful of nails, along with a couple of pieces of wood...
and construct my own humble monument.
...maybe I'll call it "Jireh".
...and I started thinking.
When people in the Old Testament (of the Bible, I mean) were met with
certain provisions, or something life-changing happened to them, or God
revealed something new, they did one main thing:
They built an alter.
When God changed Jacob's name to Israel, he built a memorial on that very spot.
Serving as a physical memory. A reminder of what took place.
2008 so far has been a literal dramatic crescendo of events. I mean, one thing after the other. One challenge after another. And I've been presented with an expectant future. Lots to look forward to. And plenty to worry about.
...but I won't.
I'll simply grab a hammer & a handful of nails, along with a couple of pieces of wood...
and construct my own humble monument.
...maybe I'll call it "Jireh".
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The.Reason.
...it was one of those days.
At times, I can have conversations about him with my mom, where we laugh about the person he was. We remember how perfect his smile was, or how he could walk in the pouring rain and would never get a single drop on his suede Timberland boots. I remember how his shoulders shook when he laughed. Most days, I can think of him, and not feel a stab in my chest. This painful realization that he has physically missed so much of my life.
...but today...was one of those days.
Granted, I have been able to walk around with some joy today. But I just wish I could talk to him. I wish he could stand in front of me and trip about how tall I've gotten, or smile at the young woman I am becoming. I want him to tell me that no guy would ever be good enough for me. I want him to slip me $20. I want him to hug me on my wedding day and play with my children. I want my kids to be able to say that "Uncle Mike" is their absolute favorite uncle. I will never have that.
And sometimes, even after 9 years, I still feel his void. I am complete in Christ, yes, but if you could look around my heart, you would see an empty chair with his name on it.
And I know that God's plan is perfect. I know that my brother is in a better place. I know that I will see him again someday. But days like this still happen. And I battle jealousy and anger each time I hear my roommate get so easily annoyed at her older brother for calling...just to chat with her. What a huge blessing in such a small gesture.
But the silver lining appears to me around this time of the day. First off, I can hear pride & joy, not grief, when my mother speaks of him. Each time my family gathers together, we talk about him as if he is only away at college. Not to mention, each time I see my nephew, I see a promise that my brother made.
Secondly, my brother, Michael, is, what I like to call...The.Reason...
(2005)
We miss you. I miss you.
Love,
Your little sis Britt
At times, I can have conversations about him with my mom, where we laugh about the person he was. We remember how perfect his smile was, or how he could walk in the pouring rain and would never get a single drop on his suede Timberland boots. I remember how his shoulders shook when he laughed. Most days, I can think of him, and not feel a stab in my chest. This painful realization that he has physically missed so much of my life.
...but today...was one of those days.
Granted, I have been able to walk around with some joy today. But I just wish I could talk to him. I wish he could stand in front of me and trip about how tall I've gotten, or smile at the young woman I am becoming. I want him to tell me that no guy would ever be good enough for me. I want him to slip me $20. I want him to hug me on my wedding day and play with my children. I want my kids to be able to say that "Uncle Mike" is their absolute favorite uncle. I will never have that.
And sometimes, even after 9 years, I still feel his void. I am complete in Christ, yes, but if you could look around my heart, you would see an empty chair with his name on it.
And I know that God's plan is perfect. I know that my brother is in a better place. I know that I will see him again someday. But days like this still happen. And I battle jealousy and anger each time I hear my roommate get so easily annoyed at her older brother for calling...just to chat with her. What a huge blessing in such a small gesture.
But the silver lining appears to me around this time of the day. First off, I can hear pride & joy, not grief, when my mother speaks of him. Each time my family gathers together, we talk about him as if he is only away at college. Not to mention, each time I see my nephew, I see a promise that my brother made.
Secondly, my brother, Michael, is, what I like to call...The.Reason...
(2005)
Your smile
Was
My melody
My lyric
My expression
But the day
You ceased
Smiling
I lost my song…
Full of
Emotions
Words
Jargons
With no one around
But my notebook
And his companion…
My pencil
So…
We three became
Acquainted
And soon
Started a love affair
A threesome
In which I
Consistently mourn your absence
Yet rejoice in your eternal rest
If you
Left no
Unspoken void in me
I would have
Ignored
them
Thank You.
We miss you. I miss you.Love,
Your little sis Britt
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
I Am Woman...See.Me.Soar.
Simple and enigmatic.
Bold and strong.
Fierce and fragile.
Well acquainted with oppression, tragedy, and prejudice.
A forerunner even while behind the front lines.
Initial safe-haven for an unborn child.
Her son's first peer into love. Her daughter's steadfast tutor.
Her man's delicate sanctuary. Strong as iron, soft as silk.
Sophisticated and Kind.
Powerful and Just.
Her role stretches across the span of oceans:
From Teacher. Author. Activist.
To Nurturer. Lover. Provider.
Tributes through planes that sky-write to tattoos on arms.
"Hey mom's" mouthed into cameras to Ms. Angelou's "phenomenally".
Shakespeare sonnets to Tiffany diamonds.
Angela Davis to Angela Bassett.
Negative, scantly clothed images cast no shadow across the shine her subtle crown gives.
Temperamental moods in 5 to 7 day seasons are a necessary sacrifice in order to birth a world.
50 years of back-breaking manual labor condensed into 36plus hours of labor.
But you can keep your gold watch because retirement is not an option.
Her 9 to 5 comes in 24 hour shifts, just different name tags.
And since the auction block she worked alone.
Nursing her own infirmities meanwhile praying that she will
birth a healthy baby girl...
Bold and strong.
Fierce and fragile.
Well acquainted with oppression, tragedy, and prejudice.
A forerunner even while behind the front lines.
Initial safe-haven for an unborn child.
Her son's first peer into love. Her daughter's steadfast tutor.
Her man's delicate sanctuary. Strong as iron, soft as silk.
Sophisticated and Kind.
Powerful and Just.
Her role stretches across the span of oceans:
From Teacher. Author. Activist.
To Nurturer. Lover. Provider.
Tributes through planes that sky-write to tattoos on arms.
"Hey mom's" mouthed into cameras to Ms. Angelou's "phenomenally".
Shakespeare sonnets to Tiffany diamonds.
Angela Davis to Angela Bassett.
Negative, scantly clothed images cast no shadow across the shine her subtle crown gives.
Temperamental moods in 5 to 7 day seasons are a necessary sacrifice in order to birth a world.
50 years of back-breaking manual labor condensed into 36plus hours of labor.
But you can keep your gold watch because retirement is not an option.
Her 9 to 5 comes in 24 hour shifts, just different name tags.
And since the auction block she worked alone.
Nursing her own infirmities meanwhile praying that she will
birth a healthy baby girl...
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
National Poetry Month
In honor of all the poets:
HipRockSoul
2-19-2008
HipRockSoul
2-19-2008
Jagged
Scratches across vinyl
Speak to natives like hieroglyphics
Retelling a history and preserving an inheritance
From one generation to the next
Equipping young hands:
Microphones
With black paint
Chipping away in spots where they
Were once
Gripped.
Clutched and driven.
Personifying rage and amplifying truth.
[This proves Hip Hop has Soul.]
Picks
Strumming lightly
Onto strings.
Clearing its throat.
Sending vibrations through low rumbles or high cries.
Preparation to rally with the oppressed
And empathize with the tortured.
A sea of hands wave left to right in agreement.
Sharp
Like sandpaper
And boomin' like thunder.
Drum sets prey on emotion
At its rawest.
Sticks strike. Setting off explosions.
Land mines of sound.
A power given and a presence commanded.
[Feels like Rock really can be Hip.]
Scatted
Consonants trip ears with their theatrical tactics
Hummed vowels pressed out of pursed lips
Carry listeners through highs and lows.
Revealing melodic epiphanies
And healing societal schisms with
Love.
Sober-eyed "preachers".
Ministers of the earth-toned cloth
Stand with feet planted
Fluent in sign language
Whether it be two fingers; side by side
Or an enclosed fist raised proudly
[See? Soul can Rock it, after all.]
Giving you:
Hip-Rock-Soul.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
All That I Desire: Words
I remember my mother telling me about the day I came home from my first day of school. She says that I was so proud that day.
"Mommy?" I asked her, "What do you call it when a caterpillar turns into a budd-erfly (butterfly, in adult language....c'mon, I was only 5.)?"
"What, my baby?" she replied.
With my semi-toothless grin, I declared, "Me-ta-mor-fuh-siss!!" (Metamorphosis)
That memory stays with me. I think when I came home from the first day of 1st grade, I had begun my love affair with words. Fascinated with the way each syllable bounced off my tongue and the sounds they made. Each word had a vibe of its own. Each enunciation unique. I used to love Handwriting class, too. I remember taking my huge, thin letter writing practice notebook home and going ahead of what my teacher assigned for homework. When we were learning how to write our "Gs", I was busy mastering my "Ns".
I had the WORST handwriting up until middle school, but that never kept me from my love of words. I wasn't outspoken or loud as a child, but that didn't stop me.
My interest with words increases steadily. I am well acquainted with libraries, bookstores, etc. I think I was the only kid in my whole elementary school that mastered the Dewey Decimal System. Card catalogs were a breeze to me. #1 on my Christmas list for years was Where the Wild Things Are or the newest Youth fiction novel. My mother knew that the best way to punish me for misbehaving was to remove all of my books out of my room. Simply sending me there only provided me refuge.
The floor of Barnes & Nobles is paved with gold; a place where I could honestly [and I sometimes secretly] break out into song.
In middle school I got near perfect scores on the verbal portion of the PSATs. I made straight A's in English. I even read the dictionary for fun!!!
This desire has also become a handicap of mine. I suffer from complexity issues a lot of the time. Every moment of my life requires a caption. Each occurrence a detailed explanation. Nothing can ever just be in my life. I must put it into words; in order to provide it with meaning.
But sometimes the silence that comes in a moment of awe is sufficient.
I am learning to welcome the ambiguity of life. To appreciate mystery and to see the beauty in simplicity.
"Mommy?" I asked her, "What do you call it when a caterpillar turns into a budd-erfly (butterfly, in adult language....c'mon, I was only 5.)?"
"What, my baby?" she replied.
With my semi-toothless grin, I declared, "Me-ta-mor-fuh-siss!!" (Metamorphosis)
That memory stays with me. I think when I came home from the first day of 1st grade, I had begun my love affair with words. Fascinated with the way each syllable bounced off my tongue and the sounds they made. Each word had a vibe of its own. Each enunciation unique. I used to love Handwriting class, too. I remember taking my huge, thin letter writing practice notebook home and going ahead of what my teacher assigned for homework. When we were learning how to write our "Gs", I was busy mastering my "Ns".
I had the WORST handwriting up until middle school, but that never kept me from my love of words. I wasn't outspoken or loud as a child, but that didn't stop me.
My interest with words increases steadily. I am well acquainted with libraries, bookstores, etc. I think I was the only kid in my whole elementary school that mastered the Dewey Decimal System. Card catalogs were a breeze to me. #1 on my Christmas list for years was Where the Wild Things Are or the newest Youth fiction novel. My mother knew that the best way to punish me for misbehaving was to remove all of my books out of my room. Simply sending me there only provided me refuge.
The floor of Barnes & Nobles is paved with gold; a place where I could honestly [and I sometimes secretly] break out into song.
In middle school I got near perfect scores on the verbal portion of the PSATs. I made straight A's in English. I even read the dictionary for fun!!!
This desire has also become a handicap of mine. I suffer from complexity issues a lot of the time. Every moment of my life requires a caption. Each occurrence a detailed explanation. Nothing can ever just be in my life. I must put it into words; in order to provide it with meaning.
But sometimes the silence that comes in a moment of awe is sufficient.
I am learning to welcome the ambiguity of life. To appreciate mystery and to see the beauty in simplicity.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What It's Like to Date. Him.
I thought this would be fun. You could call this a mirrored version of my "What It's Like to Date Me." blog.
Who is this guy I'm talking about? [Ladies, brace yourself. Fellahs, feel free to envy.] Now, if my heart could show you a photo of my love, it'd be a mix of three pictures...
First, the man with whom I was initially acquainted to: The Poet.
The creator of the sonnet, the haiku, and the prose. The man whose wit runs deeper than any other person that I've ever met. A daily pursuit of mine is to find new avenues that he'll divulge more of his mind.
He. Fascinates. Me.
Simply because I didn't realize that a guy such as he actually existed. I'd hoped...but I wasn't sure...and I am so thrilled to have a reliable open door into his thoughts. And he shares willingly with me. I see no end to his brainpower. No lid up top other than his skull. Beyond that, the sky is really the limit. He challenges me to think, examine, reflect, imagine, and dream. I am never bored by our conversation. Even in those calm moments where we say nothing, he always manages to speak to me.
"Poetry Book (Part One)"
2007
Second, there is the one that consistently surprises me:
The Lover.
Weak knees & numb hands are just the beginning. He is unconsciously adorable and unintentionally sexy. While some ladies would turn their nose up at his wide smile, strong arms, and intuitive eyes; I could not be more lured. He tries his best as a boyfriend, but I am shocked that he cannot see how naturally the Lover inside of him flows. Now, I am not even meaning in a sexual manner, technically. Truth be told, that's a fruit we haven't yet tasted of...and yet...my experiences loving him and being loved by him tells me that he is the best lover I have ever had.
Lastly, the part that has come to be the foundation of our relationship: The Jedi.
Who is this guy I'm talking about? [Ladies, brace yourself. Fellahs, feel free to envy.] Now, if my heart could show you a photo of my love, it'd be a mix of three pictures...
First, the man with whom I was initially acquainted to: The Poet.The creator of the sonnet, the haiku, and the prose. The man whose wit runs deeper than any other person that I've ever met. A daily pursuit of mine is to find new avenues that he'll divulge more of his mind.
He. Fascinates. Me.
Simply because I didn't realize that a guy such as he actually existed. I'd hoped...but I wasn't sure...and I am so thrilled to have a reliable open door into his thoughts. And he shares willingly with me. I see no end to his brainpower. No lid up top other than his skull. Beyond that, the sky is really the limit. He challenges me to think, examine, reflect, imagine, and dream. I am never bored by our conversation. Even in those calm moments where we say nothing, he always manages to speak to me.
"Poetry Book (Part One)"
2007
i run my hands across your poetry book.
feeling its texture
as you once did
my hands are where your hands
were
so...it's like you are touching ME.
i thumb through the pages in your poetry book.
one by one.
imagining that each new page is
as promising to me as they were to you
once
and you hold nothing back
so...it's like you're filling my empty spaces
i trace my fingers across the words written on the pages in your poetry book
left to right
block stanzas
to jagged lines
one after the other
as if my hand is holding
the pen that you held
to write these words
so...it's like you are holding me
...lay me. across your lap.
touch me. search me.
fill. complete me.
and hold me...
...like I am your poetry book.
Second, there is the one that consistently surprises me:The Lover.
Weak knees & numb hands are just the beginning. He is unconsciously adorable and unintentionally sexy. While some ladies would turn their nose up at his wide smile, strong arms, and intuitive eyes; I could not be more lured. He tries his best as a boyfriend, but I am shocked that he cannot see how naturally the Lover inside of him flows. Now, I am not even meaning in a sexual manner, technically. Truth be told, that's a fruit we haven't yet tasted of...and yet...my experiences loving him and being loved by him tells me that he is the best lover I have ever had.
"A Hangover's Daydream'
2007
I see silhouettes of lovers holding hands, exchanging gazes, and
Merging hearts.
At this flaunt of emerging and bursting love,
I smile and I concur.
Sneaky public displays and quaint duos tangled in fondness
Only generate memories that hint at my own affair.
Warmth is meticulously duplicated inside of me
[Taken from the eyes of those who have made the same discovery
As I]
And is spread from end to end.
My wit became congested
Morphing the very spot where I stood.
Distorted and blinking I look around
Thinking I sensed his scent and
Felt the brush of his fingertips next to my cheek.
Taken aback I staggered
Drunk from affection
Inebriated due to the reminiscence of my love's presence
Lacking all sobriety
I collect each piece of my recollections of him and
Stumble my way towards the place he resides
To make our dream reality.
Lastly, the part that has come to be the foundation of our relationship: The Jedi.My partner in rhymes. The Hip to my Hop. The Emcee to my Poet. My colleague in the Art. I'm his co-pastor & he's my constant collaborator. Our passion for love.life.lord is a source of joy and challenge. He holds me accountable and keeps me honest. Without knowing it: he teaches me lessons...above all: to remain true. Perfect? He is not, but the brokenness I see combined with the pursuit I witness inside of him, instruct me to keep going. When cultivating my own potential, I see a reflection of his. A living, breathing revolutionary. And he's my best friend.
"He.Be.Revolution."
I've touched the hands
of a revolutionary.
a man.
and a catalyst
for change.
I've kissed the lips
of a revolutionary.
a force.
a potential name
for legacies.
Not one amongst
the legions of those
bound by the streets
and chained to a mindset
he pumps his fist
yes
but he's holding
a pen.
a mic.
He's the epitome
of Black Pride.
Malcolm's Pride.
Martin's Pride.
Mother's Pride.
Nonviolent ferocity.
Knowledgeable Grandeur.
Confusing the masses
Because he maneuvers just fine without
The gun on his hip
And the chip on his shoulder.
Never whining.
Pointing no fingers
and expecting no hand-outs.
He moves.
He molds.
He is.
With feet firm.
His convictions are deeply rooted.
Eyes focused.
His sights see beyond the Struggle.
His age inconsistent
of his wisdom
But oh. How his father
his eyes were just as clear.
He doesn't just know of revolution
or hope for revolution
or front with the cap wearin' and slogan shoutin' revolution
But
He thinks revolution
Sees revolution
Speaks revolution
and
IS revolution
I'm loved by the spirit of
a revolutionary.
A heart
too good for this world.
All That I Desire: Truth
Truth (n.) - the actual state of a matter; ideal or fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience.
My mom says that I, as a little girl, used to ask the "Why?" question a lot. I believe this tendency was grafted into the core of my personality, because I feel that "everything happens for a reason". And for as long as I can remember, my first inclination/reaction when faced with a circumstance [good or bad] was to ask "Why?"
If you look at the above definition, it's two-fold.
First: the actual state of the matter.
Does anyone, other than me, notice that our society thrives on deception?
We are either taught to lie or buy into lies.
Advertisement paints elaborate (though at times hilarious) fantasies, promising the consumer a desired end, if only they would buy the product. Music is whoring itself to this Almighty Propaganda, relying on a formula in order to be successful. Meanwhile, the truth about music is confined to a solitary, aged category: Socially-conscious.
The religion of Hollywood consists of public persona; so individuals don't look up to their character, but to the 'characters' that they reenact on screen. Ask any actor why they love acting, and some will say that they love being able to become someone else. There is thrill in deceiving, so to speak. I'm not being overtly-cryptic, but I cannot help but notice a trend.
Identity is dependent on what is the most glamorous at the moment. We teach our children that they can be anything they want to be, which is true to an extent, but we don't combine that theory with positive avenues. These positive outlets (ie: The Arts) are meant to help them DISCOVER who they were created to be, because no one (in my opinion) is born without an innate purpose. Negative activities repress or pervert that purpose. It is my firm belief that evil is the counterfeit of good. It is a distorted image of what is true. Deception is an altered version of the Truth. Locating the lie is the first step to discovering Truth. So, discern the lie.
Second: ideal or fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience.
Your eyes can lie to you. Your senses can lie to you. If our 5 senses were adequate enough to come across truth, then the Creator wouldn't have given us Intellect & Emotions. It's funny that each of these three aspects cannot function separately.
I mean, let's look at that for a minute...
A person who is nothing but a brain, that is, possessing no heart or way to gather information from the environment is incomplete. Sensation is needed to alert the brain. Emotions are needed to reinforce a certain behavior.
A hot stove. A naive child. Child touches the stove. The Senses feel the heat - sending a signal to the brain to remove the hand - afterwards the child expresses Fear/Caution each time he/she gets too close to a hot stove. They all work together.
God is cool, isn't He?
Getting back to the point:
We should always question our surroundings and never should we even begin to accept anything that hasn't been confirmed by all three parts. Now, as a believer I know that there is 4th piece: The Spirit. And the spirit is a profound thing. It can disprove anything that the three previous portions can emphatically prove. It can also CONFIRM what is found, naturally.
So now, as I mature, I allow the Natural and the Super-natural to work together; in order to help me find Truth. This Truth, however, originated in the Super-natural....
...because I refuse to believe that the source of Truth came from a world that decays daily. Someday, whether it be tomorrow or 1000s of years from now, this reality as we know it will be gone. So what will happen to Truth? If our current reality is all there is, then there is no such thing as hope, only probability. No such thing as desire, only animalistic urges. No such thing as love, only temporary attachments.
No such thing as Truth, only relative opinion.
My mom says that I, as a little girl, used to ask the "Why?" question a lot. I believe this tendency was grafted into the core of my personality, because I feel that "everything happens for a reason". And for as long as I can remember, my first inclination/reaction when faced with a circumstance [good or bad] was to ask "Why?"
If you look at the above definition, it's two-fold.
First: the actual state of the matter.
Does anyone, other than me, notice that our society thrives on deception?
We are either taught to lie or buy into lies.
Advertisement paints elaborate (though at times hilarious) fantasies, promising the consumer a desired end, if only they would buy the product. Music is whoring itself to this Almighty Propaganda, relying on a formula in order to be successful. Meanwhile, the truth about music is confined to a solitary, aged category: Socially-conscious.
The religion of Hollywood consists of public persona; so individuals don't look up to their character, but to the 'characters' that they reenact on screen. Ask any actor why they love acting, and some will say that they love being able to become someone else. There is thrill in deceiving, so to speak. I'm not being overtly-cryptic, but I cannot help but notice a trend.
Identity is dependent on what is the most glamorous at the moment. We teach our children that they can be anything they want to be, which is true to an extent, but we don't combine that theory with positive avenues. These positive outlets (ie: The Arts) are meant to help them DISCOVER who they were created to be, because no one (in my opinion) is born without an innate purpose. Negative activities repress or pervert that purpose. It is my firm belief that evil is the counterfeit of good. It is a distorted image of what is true. Deception is an altered version of the Truth. Locating the lie is the first step to discovering Truth. So, discern the lie.
Second: ideal or fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience.
Your eyes can lie to you. Your senses can lie to you. If our 5 senses were adequate enough to come across truth, then the Creator wouldn't have given us Intellect & Emotions. It's funny that each of these three aspects cannot function separately.
I mean, let's look at that for a minute...
A person who is nothing but a brain, that is, possessing no heart or way to gather information from the environment is incomplete. Sensation is needed to alert the brain. Emotions are needed to reinforce a certain behavior.
A hot stove. A naive child. Child touches the stove. The Senses feel the heat - sending a signal to the brain to remove the hand - afterwards the child expresses Fear/Caution each time he/she gets too close to a hot stove. They all work together.
God is cool, isn't He?
Getting back to the point:
We should always question our surroundings and never should we even begin to accept anything that hasn't been confirmed by all three parts. Now, as a believer I know that there is 4th piece: The Spirit. And the spirit is a profound thing. It can disprove anything that the three previous portions can emphatically prove. It can also CONFIRM what is found, naturally.
So now, as I mature, I allow the Natural and the Super-natural to work together; in order to help me find Truth. This Truth, however, originated in the Super-natural....
...because I refuse to believe that the source of Truth came from a world that decays daily. Someday, whether it be tomorrow or 1000s of years from now, this reality as we know it will be gone. So what will happen to Truth? If our current reality is all there is, then there is no such thing as hope, only probability. No such thing as desire, only animalistic urges. No such thing as love, only temporary attachments.
No such thing as Truth, only relative opinion.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
All That I Desire...(Prelude)
I have many passions, but they all center around two specific things:
Truth. And Words.
To be continued....
Truth. And Words.To be continued....
Friday, February 29, 2008
Something I Tend to Forget...
I was really upset at my mother. Or at her ability to ruin my excitement for things. I didn't want to think anything through for once. I didn't want to plan ahead or iron out any details.
I just wanted to go.
And I felt completely justified in my discontent with my relationship with my parents...
...that is until 2:08 am this morning. A close friend of mine, whom I also consider to be like a little sister, gently shook me awake. She told me, holding back tears, that a girl on our hall (whom we both know very well) had just lost her mother in a tragic car accident just an hour or so before. A bit shocked and disoriented, I followed my friend through my dark dorm room and out into the hallway, where at least a dozen of my other dorm-mates were standing; praying.
For what seemed like hours, we all stood...or sat...out in the hallway, grieving along with her. My RAs were on the phone with her family members, making arrangements and spoke on behalf of my grieving sister, who could do nothing but lay in the floor and cry. It was announced, eventually, that an RA, accompanied by another girl on the hall, would take her home (which was over an hour away). Looking up as she walked out
into the hallway, I met her eyes. And that moment changed my whole perspective that I had been previously, if only temporarily, carrying.
I know what it's like to lose someone so abruptly. After the death of my older brother back in 1999, I promised myself that I wouldn't take my family for granted. I wouldn't sacrifice the love of my family to serve my own purpose. Somehow, for a split second, I had forgotten the promise I had made.
I am so blessed. My parents, more specifically my mother, love me very much.
So, I say to you: take no one dear to you for granted. Because you have no idea if they will be here long enough for you to apologize.
I just wanted to go.
And I felt completely justified in my discontent with my relationship with my parents...
...that is until 2:08 am this morning. A close friend of mine, whom I also consider to be like a little sister, gently shook me awake. She told me, holding back tears, that a girl on our hall (whom we both know very well) had just lost her mother in a tragic car accident just an hour or so before. A bit shocked and disoriented, I followed my friend through my dark dorm room and out into the hallway, where at least a dozen of my other dorm-mates were standing; praying.
For what seemed like hours, we all stood...or sat...out in the hallway, grieving along with her. My RAs were on the phone with her family members, making arrangements and spoke on behalf of my grieving sister, who could do nothing but lay in the floor and cry. It was announced, eventually, that an RA, accompanied by another girl on the hall, would take her home (which was over an hour away). Looking up as she walked out
into the hallway, I met her eyes. And that moment changed my whole perspective that I had been previously, if only temporarily, carrying.I know what it's like to lose someone so abruptly. After the death of my older brother back in 1999, I promised myself that I wouldn't take my family for granted. I wouldn't sacrifice the love of my family to serve my own purpose. Somehow, for a split second, I had forgotten the promise I had made.
I am so blessed. My parents, more specifically my mother, love me very much.
So, I say to you: take no one dear to you for granted. Because you have no idea if they will be here long enough for you to apologize.
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