goddess garden (pt. 2)

i'm going to have to start setting up the goddesspace in my bedroom. i started buying things weeks ago, but my house (and, subsequently, my garden) could be at least a year in coming.

she was right after all...i can't bear to have what i've gathered so far hidden away in bags until then.

ikea has plenty of cheap candle holders, shelves & plant stands to start me off.

we have a nice xtian/catholic store where i should be able to get some saint statues and/or images.

i might have to go online for the hindu ones (kali, maybe shakti). it should be easy to find something with quan yin...

i'll also need something serpentine, plus images of the various ancestresses: frida kahlo, saartjie, audre lorde, etc.

and stones: rose and clear quartz. moonstone. mother of pearl...

i can't wait to get started...

runnin across my mind...

i gotta break this one up into pieces...

I
you really need to read this woman's blog, discovered thanks to the illustrious goddess glory. wait til you're @ home...darkdaughta isn't erotic, but there is quite a bit of nudity, both in the background art and her birthing stories.

to deprogram the way she's done and to seek to give her children the same gift from birth onwards is nothing short of miraculous. she gets serious props from me. if we don't wise up and the fall comes (heaven forfend), kids like hers are the ones who'll survive & lead the revolution.


II
speaking of birthing stories, the intense, nearly bone-deep desire to experience pregnancy, birth, and motherhood has returned. it could be a manifestation of the other changes i'm trying to create and work through...but again, it's not merely mental.

considering the current state of my relationship, i don't know when or how my baby will manifest his/herself. but i have prayed that the event be inundated with bliss from beginning to end. when those conditions can be met, i'm sure i'll find myself in a family way, as the ancestors used to say.

III
i'm also aware of the 10 things this morning...after a few days of discomfort and aggravation, i'm enjoying myself again.

IV
another plug: check out fatman scoop & shanda, if you haven't already. they're hilarious. and a wonderfully loving couple, if i do say so myself. i'll bet that in 30 yrs, they're gonna be the grandparents makin everybody grin with envy 'cause he's still chasin her around the kitchen like they just met.

b*tch on wheels

i don't know if it's the boredom...

the mutiny of my yoni (thanks, amoxicillin! ugh) & subsequent lack of opportunities to achieve an orgasm derived from intense clitoral stimulation...

the slight, nagging hunger that i can't seem to satisfy because i can't figure out what i'm craving...

or what,

but i don't feel like the bullshit today. i am suffering no fools. i damn sure don't feel like organizing anyone's life outside my own, and i really don't feel like babysitting a bunch of grown ass people.

but payday's tomorrow. then a four day weekend.

that will probably help me resist the urge to lop off some heads.

...oh, and how about this nonsense: i went to the store this morning for some hygiene products. selection was limited, and they didn't have my favorite (always), so i got the thin kotex...no wings, but better than the archaic, 2" thick always pads with wings that they did have. no biggie.

why was is the new and improved! feature a "quieter" individual package?

i'm in the ladies' room. why should i give a rat's ass if the other ladies--all of whom know what's up--know that i'm opening a tampon/pad/whatever??!?!?

this is vaguely equivalent to older female cashiers who still give me a paper bag and two plastic ones or some variation thereof when i go to target...



like that. ugh.

i LOVE this cartoon...

married to the sea

shakti

i've realized that my creativity has not abandoned me, it's been invested in recreating my reality.

my list of needs and wants is a mile long, but i'm also accomplishing goals and setting new ones in record time.

i find myself praying, manifesting, and readjusting almost constantly. my dreams are overflowing with guidance and support.

still, it's been awkward adjusting to the feeling of "missing" my writing; i'm used to leaning on a pen and pad for support.

yes, blogging is writing--but different. i miss the poems, stories, the choreographed wordplay that used to dance effortlessly across my mind.

blogging is more of a release of nervous energy or filing system--a tool that helps me track my progress, tuck away distracting thoughts, converse with folks and spark discussion.

on the other hand, i am grateful that my creative energy understands the necessity of metamorphosis depending on my needs.

right now i don't need to write as much as i need to move, visualize, and mold.

today i am grateful for the gifts granted by evolution.

decisions, decisions

eh.

i got up later than i was supposed to,
it feels like a louisiana swamp out there,

and all i wanna do is slap on the sundress i got for like $7 (after a target giftcard) that i haven't gotten to wear ALL summer and roam around outside...

maybe sit long enough somewhere surrounded by enough grass and trees to get the urge to scribble something meaningful...

but i'm supposed to go get the car checked out. not like i got the money to fix whatever's wrong with it, but...i have a thing about driving around with the car making "a strange noise".

i can still wear the sundress...

and can somebody please buy me a plane ticket so i can go to bembe? thanks.

sanctified & suffering?

i wonder, how long this had been going on? wouldn't be surprised if that's what broke them up in the first place...

this is all i could find from an essence article on the subject of domestic violence in the christian church.

i'll also never forget the story of a woman on the tyra show who had half her face bashed in by her ex husband only for her mother to tell her not to call the cops 'cause it wasn't the "christian" thing to do...

now, with all due respect to the faith of others, how is it that you're so caught up in the interpretation of a book based on the ruminations of a patriarchal, supremacist culture developing in the midst of a goddess-worshipping, largely matriarchal ancient world, that you sacrifice your love of self and your body and mind over the notion of being "submissive"?

...not to say that this kind of abuse isn't rampant in more "conscious", afrocentric circles, because it certainly can be. afrikan men, continental and diasporan, have been thoroughly indoctrinated by western patriarchal/male dominated culture. many have taken steps to deprogram themselves. others hide their misogyny behind flowery words and spiritual-sounding phrases. and, unfortunately, plenty of sistas eat it up.

but i'll bet you a headwrap and a cowry shell that if you take the situation to the more afrikan-centered elders vs. some christian ones, you'll hear the rote "stand by your man" speech a lot less often.

please, please, please...read something about the world before christianity. not to remove yourself from the nature of the god of your understanding, but just to know that there's a whole side of the spirit you probably never got wind of sitting in those pews.

addendum 9/7/2007: here's an update...

i guess i'm it....

she tagged me...

*What side of the heart do you draw first?
the right

*Can you dive without plugging your nose?
yeah...just exhale when you hit the water.

*What color is your phone?
gray (@ work)

*Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
eh...i don't think i have an answer

*Where are you right now?
desk @ work

*How do you feel about carrots?
good only when finely shredded in salads, steamed for chinese food, or in soup. i can tolerate fresh carrot juice, but only w/ apple and ginger.

*How many chairs at the dining room table?
don't have one

*Who is the best Spice Girl?
n/a

*Do you know what time it is?
hammer time! (i know, i'm sorry)

*What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?
stay calm.

*What’s your favorite kind of gum?
orbit peppermint. original will do, too

*T or F: All is fair in love and war?
love, essentially. war, no.

*Do you use words that you don’t know the meaning to?
i try not to...i look 'em up to be sure.

*Do you like to sleep?
it serves its purpose...

*Do you know which US states don’t use Daylight Savings?
wow...um...no. that's one useless fact that hasn't stuck to my brain yet, thank u

*Do you know the song Sugar We’re Goin’ Down?
say wha?

*Do you want a bright yellow ‘06 mustang?
no

*What’s something you’ve always wanted?
enough money (or influence, reason, etc) to be able to travel anywhere, at any time

*Do you wear a lot of black?
not quite as much as i used to

*Are you an adult?
ya damn right i am. but why is this a question? lol

*Who is/are your best friends?
terri

*Do you have a tan?
it's kind of a permanent one, but i do get a little more golden in the summer...

*Are you a television addict?
no

*Do you enjoy spending time with your mom?
yeah

*Are you a sugar freak?
gives me headaches

*What is your favorite movie?
too many to name

*What’s your sign?
pisces

*Where do you wish you were right now?
somewhere like fiji...tropical paradise, enjoying the ocean

*Who did you copy this from?
tre

*How do you know them?
from okayplayer

*Would you have sex with them?
no, but sheesh.

*What brand of shirt are you wearing?
something in organic cotton done by a graf artist i "met" on myspace. lol.

*Have you ever smoked anything?
sure

i'll get one a y'all shortly...dunno who yet...

frightening.

i still maintain that anyone who is vehemently anti-abortion and is not a foster parent or planning to be one has some explaining to do. because, considering the sad state of the american foster care system, folk seem to care an awful lot about the fetus, and not so much about the babies once they get here.

but this is some shit here.

hermit

for the last few years, i feel like my social life has been rather stunted.

i don't go out like i used to.

i've all but given up on the possibility of being some kind of (known) poet or spoken word artist.

i haven't developed some kind of agoraphobia or anything, but i have shut myself in.

maybe this is for reasons i don't yet understand.

but i'm learning to accept my hermitism. i still go out with friends and family, but i have also noticed that my apartment has become a sort of cocoon.

i'm certain that i'll emerge when i'm ready.

tell 'em why you mad...

there are not many times in my life when my anger has been this palatable. i can almost feel it on the tip of my tongue each time i speak.

the years i loved, struggled, held on, fought...

i want to scream for putting up with it all for as long as i did.

ultimately, i know i stayed out of love, but in hindsight, nothing seems to justify the waiting.

besides, it's pointless to fuss over the past. what's happened has happened for a reason, just like i was able to let go at this moment for a reason. everything happens in its due time, and this is no different.

new loves will come, we will both heal. in the meantime, there's work to do.

the anger is simply motivation to move ahead.

rent a rasta / hurricane troubles

this is deep.




in addition, hurricane dean is about 150 miles outside kingston, right now. and he's got haiti on the tail end. several other islands have already been hit. and some broad named erin is wrecking shop in oklahoma and texas.

oya, hekua yansa, we know that what you destroy makes room for rebirth, but we pray that you keep as many human lives and vital crops and animals as possible out of harm's way as you do your work.

ashe-o.

to all those wanting what i cannot give

if you could have, we would have.

if it was meant, it would be.

if we never did, it's because we weren't supposed to.

your epiphanies are always a day late and a dollar short. rent's far past due.

i'm sorry i'm not the dream you made me out to be.

your understanding costs me boxes of kleenex, lonely nights, and a whole lot of heartache.

talking to you about us makes me so angry i could spit. that's where the tears come from. not from pain, but from frustration.

i have nothing left to give. and if you could truly understand that, you wouldn't call me cold.

i am not heartless, i am not ruthless, and i am not unfeeling.

i love with everything i have because i am fearless.

but if you wear out your welcome, i will turn your castles to dust. i also will not hesitate to remove myself from a sinking ship.

i am willing to give the right man the moon that falls from my mouth. if you have not received it, it means you are not him.

i will admit to having played the role of sassafrass, but this is her farewell performance.*

henceforth, only men need apply.

if you have not had your heart shattered at least once and survived,
if you do not know yourself,
if your insecurities haunt you,
if you do not mean what you say and say what you mean,

i am not the woman for you.


*sassafrass was the sister who, determined to do everything in her power to heal a broken man, almost blocked her own blessings. her lesson? incomplete love ain't no love at all.

dreaming...

my next lover should be sweet.

nothing heavy, nothing formal. just enough sugar, just enough comfort.

lovely sunday mornings with no hard feelings.

a man with his own clean, comfortable space i can ease into for a while. a vacation from my life. a little happiness for both of us.

..and the ability to let go when it’s over. a fading into the sunset.

pleasant memories. no scars.

i’m sure i’ll travel the battlefield again. but not now.

peace is what’s important.

what i learned today

1. fresh pineapple is one of those foods that exists to make you believe in god.

2. the principle of energy changing without destruction is most evident in love and loving.

3. being a child of osun is an immeasurable blessing. it also comes with some interesting lessons.

4. standing at the crossroads excites me as much as it frightens me.

5. sometimes it takes me a minute, but i always figure out what i need to do in order to land on my feet. always the tigress. when my head, heart and womb are in alignment, my feet fall in line. and nothing can stop me.

weary

tell it, amel

This woman is growing weary
Of having to be so strong
Of having to pretend I’m made of stone
So I won’t end up with no broken bones
I can’t fight every battle alone

I want someone to lift me
Heal my wounds and give me kisses on my head
Say words that should be said
Fear is not the matter
I would so much rather open up my heart
And lay down my guard

Chorus:
If I could trust someone
To have my back and never do me wrong
Then I would give my love up
Just like that stop singing this soldier song
(repeat)

whomever said love was overrated
must not be getting’ none
my independent days have had their fun
but when the parties over
and the workin’ day is done
I just want to come home to someone

I want a love to take me
As I am not make me compromise myself
Or be like no one else
Fear is not the matter
I would so much rather open up my heart
And just lay down my guard

Chorus

thankfully, i'm not there now, but i damn sure have been.

changes

it's done.

the locs are gone.

it feels...interesting.

i only cried twice. more of a release than grieving.

i've probably been grieving for months anyway. this season has been full of challenges, ups, downs and inbetweens.

of course, a haircut doesn't fix your life. but what it can do and/or symbolize is a certain measure of control over your situation. and many of you know that, as african women, our hair is never just our hair.

there's a definite feeling of nudity. this is the first time in my life i haven't had a full head of hair to hide behind. by the time i started my locs, i had an angie davis 'fro. the two-strands reached to my chin, so i still had enough to play with.

i'm on the longer end of a twa, but there won't be any ponytails any time soon.

i look at myself now and see all the things i've always been wary of: the smallness and asymmetry of my eyes. my nose. the childhood cheeks that never quite faded away.

but there are benefits. shorter shampoos. fist-bearing afro picks! humectants. easier scalp massages. the texture of my own curves and curls. getting to know my face again. an excuse to buy new, superbly fly earrings ('cause she says so. lol).

my head's even shaped better than i thought.

i don't have a choice but to be confident.

so. here goes nothing.

a bit of news...

i'm trying to figure out how this information matches up with the whole north american union thing. i mean, wouldn't they just not care if they're gonna combine everything anyway? is the "illegal" crackdown just something to get folks off the scent?

this doesn't sound promising, and neither does this.

if i may paraphrase ms. winehouse, i'm not sure what kind of fuckery this is, but if you haven't seen maxed out, please do. if you have netflix, it's available to watch instantly on your computer.

and, lastly, airlines need to work it out.

tea with the ancestors

it's a beautiful saturday morning.

i'm up early.

sipping lemon ginger tea with plenty of honey and a hefty pinch of cayenne...a great recipe for getting rid of the dreaded mucus that seems to be trying to make itself a permanent part of my life.

woke up coughing to wake the dead again, but once i start moving around, that seems to take care of itself.

there's myrrh burning.

i'm going to do some yoga, get my energy together.

today feels like one of those days when it will be blessedly easy to see, feel, and know myself as a woman.

ashe

hold the muthafkin phone...

tay zonday made it on jimmy kimmel????

my my my

will wonders never cease...

yeah, so...

the hair might have to go.

gotta get some "before" pics first...or maybe not.

the idea scares me. my hair's never been as short as it will be if/when i take some scissors to it. even when i first went natural i grew it out so i had a nice sized 'fro first.

i love my hair. it's beautiful. i'd always wanted locs and i was proud of myself for making the commitment and experiencing the journey. i am fairly convinced that i will loc my hair again in the future.

even so, i can't ignore the energy factor here. that whole area of my body feels almost...heavy, loaded. conflicted, in a sense. there's something underneath all this hair and all these memories that's trying to break loose.

there's a deep, nagging need for liberation, freedom--and it's not just related to the job and the writer's block and all of that.

i need to let go.

it's entirely possible that in order to begin the rebirth i've been moving towards, i have to physically take the first step, by my own hand.




mantra: it will grow back.

the economics of black love

got another man question on my mind.

a recent conversation had me wondering: why is it that so many of our men don't understand that they can't have it both ways?

you cannot remain a child and shoulder the responsibilities of a man.

you cannot beg and plead for a woman to help you bear a legacy and not understand the importance and necessity or providing for said legacy.

the need for stability, a touch of ambition, and the realization of it being possible to do bad by one's self has been the death knoll for more than one black love affair.

is this an across-the-board thing, or is it just us?

is it just another example of how our mentalities have not quite begun to gel with the current state of the nation/economy/world?

it's not enough to just "get by" anymore. we're standing on quicksand in a lot of respects, and we need to be prepared. there need to be some foundations laid.

land/houses need to be owned.
finances need to be in order.

like it or not, we gotta get in overdrive, yesterday.

finish that degree, or find a trade.

how are you gonna finance the education & networking you'll need to succeed as an entrepreneur?

if you're 30+, that recording contract might not be coming.

where's the money coming from for that community organization you're dreaming of building?

you might have to suck up your revolutionary leanings--in the sense of counting on them to put food on the table--and let go of that under-the-table gig that puts a little cash in your pocket. just for a year or so, you may have to sit in somebody's office and be bored to death with the rest of us.

you think sistas like being "successful"? it grates on us just as much as it does you, grinnin in the face of the man or ms. lucy every day. but we've got babies--your babies--to provide for.

if you and yours have determined that the lifestyle of activism and literal struggle is the one for you, i admire the the hell outta that. but many of us need to know that we're going to be set up with the basics: good food, a decent, independent living space, respectable clothing, and healthcare. and that goes up about one million notches when we have children to think of.

i'm not saying you have to buy into the system completely. i'm not saying you have to chase the so-called american dream or rack up a gazillion dollars in credit card debt to keep up with the johnsons.

but until we can (a) go back to africa & rebuild en masse, (b) buy up a ton of land and create quasi-utopias a la oyotunji, or (c) get the money, power, and prestige to change the game, we're here.

you don't have to play by ALL the rules, but you might wanna start thinking long and hard about which ones are worth breaking and which ones you're gonna have to swallow. keep volunteering, keep dreaming, keep struggling for the people--but make sure you're also getting (legally & regularly) paid.

your life outside the 9-5 can be the balm of gilead. but you gotta put in work.