solstice

2013

the year of perfect nothingness.
the year of perfect emptiness.

this year, i choose to be nothing but my true, divinely connected Self.
this year, i empty myself of any over-active ego and open to Spirit.

i choose freedom.  i am free.
i choose joy. i am joyous.
i choose expansion. i am expansive.

i have everything i need to fulfill my destiny.

the list {estab. 2008}

it's been four years since i wrote the list.

despite all the changes i've undergone--and there have been some major ones--it still works really well as a framework for my ideal mental, emotional, and spiritual state of being.

do you have a list, or something like it? how has it shaped your life, your perceptions? has it changed?

...not that you have to answer me out loud or anything. just a few thought questions.

the year's still relatively new, and spring's fast approaching.

get a little piece of that change.

a soul ajar

i am opening.
and being opened.

this terrifies me.

i realize that, outwardly, i am not what anyone would call "closed". i am quick to smile, laugh, connect with people.

this, however, is an opening to the whole of myself, to seeing and manifesting all that i have within to make my life what i need and want it to be, finally.

exciting as that sounds, the closures have been a lifetime in the making--catalyzed by fear of being misunderstood, the pain of ridicule and separation, the desire to be "like everyone else".

it's true that i no longer fear myself, but this next step almost feels more daunting than releasing that anxiety.

i realized that releasing the fear would make me more comfortable.  i don't know what this opening is going to look like.  i do know it's going to require a lot of trust and faith. 

it's also one more thing i have to face "alone", which is enough to make me want to hide under the covers until it goes away.*

in the end, though, the process will be the same: eventually my ego takes over and refuses to let this--or any other bump in my emotional road--"beat" me, and i commit to making myself feel better.

so i suppose i should just get started.    



*lately i've been almost hyperaware of what's lacking in my intimate life. whooooole other blog. which i probably won't write here.

synergetic synthesis

a few years ago, i consciously began the process of synthesizing the parts of myself i'd either scattered far and wide, or pushed into obscurity.

many of us split ourselves this way, for various reasons.  for me, there were times when this scattering happened in the name of protection, but more often it was simply to fit in, feel normal {whatever that is}.

in a general sense, some folks become aware of these splits, then try to gather in the disparate parts.  others allow the soul-shards to wander--at best never fully actualizing their full potential; at worst, fearing and hating the manifestation of those aspects in others.  sometimes people will even project that hatred outward.

in any case, if you've been reading along for awhile, you know how often i've used this space to speak on the process of re-integrating my self back to myself.

during my morning prayers, i cried--tears of frustration, longing, mourning.  but those tears made way for an important realization: today, i'm probably more fully integrated than i've been since childhood. i still have moments when i wonder how i'll be received, but i no longer fear myself or my power.

i took a deep breath and stood securely in the knowing that people, places, and circumstances of my life  always adjust to reflect my state of being.  as long as i follow the patterns and heed the signs, things run smoothly.   there is no reason for this phase to be any different.

gotta keep moving...
[again]

Jobs & Justice - DC, 10.15.2011

{for pictures, click here.}

I arrived at the Mall around 11:30am, thinking I’d missed the march itself. Actually, it hadn’t started. Speakers were still speaking, folks were still gathering.

I noticed the youth first. They seemed ubiquitous, some in marching bands, others rhythmically shouting “Free DC!” as they made their way through the crowd. Black youth. I had to struggle to find whitefolks--one of the radio personalities cracked a joke about that from the stage a little later on.

a dialogue

the players

• a beautiful mermaid
  
• a huntress, able to shape-shift into a tigress at will
  

the scene
the shore of a beautiful, unspoiled ocean. the mermaid has approached, tears in her eyes. the huntress stands proudly on the pinkish-white sand, sighing. she knew this conversation was inevitable.

the conversation  
mermaid (her voice is a hiss. her anger sends waves crashing onto the beach)
you bitch. you did it again! how could you?

huntress (unflinching)
it needed doing.

mermaid
damn you, i love him. why are you always so harsh and unforgiving?

huntress (forceful, but without malice)
i loved him, too. but he was taking up too much space and time. that wasn't part of the bargain.

mermaid (her eyes well with tears)
b-but...what will i do out here all alone?

huntress
live. what else? when's the last time you swam out to the deepest parts of the sea, hm? you don't even wear your jewels anymore for fear of attracting someone else, while he's off entertaining his own thoughts. you have forgotten yourself.

mermaid (calmer, straightening her spine)
no. he needed me. i have been true to him, that's all. i did what he asked and took care of him.

huntress (barely stifling a haughty laugh)
you did. and where has he been?

mermaid
busy, i suppose.

huntress
then you should busy yourself. it is time to move on. i have paths to forge, things to build. i would love to fight and win pretty things for you, sister, but you no longer call for them. you've asked me to sit on this shore and wait--

mermaid (a sad voice laced with anger)
i hoped things would get better. he always said they would, and i know he wouldn't lie to me.

huntress
no one said he lied.

mermaid (sighing)
yes...

huntress
the results are what matter.

mermaid
it's still sad...

huntress
of course. i am sorry for your loss, but i'm still not certain you realize all you've lost in your loving and waiting. i wish i could cry your tears, but i swore to protect you, so i had to run him off.

mermaid
i appreciate your concern. i just wish things could have been different.

huntress (visibly softening for the first time)
you know i do, too. but we are both meant for great things. love will come again.

mermaid
hm...i have missed my jewels. a long swim might be helpful...

huntress
don't get distracted on the way.

mermaid (with a sad smile)
no...i'm finished with love for awhile. i haven't forgotten that we're the same; twins forced apart by my forgetfulness. there has to be a way for us to come together again.

huntress
definitely. next time we meet, we'll reunite and celebrate.

the mermaid swims away, slowly at first, then gathering energy and joy as she goes. the huntress walks off to begin her work.

~fin~

back to birthing

had visions of butterflies this morning...

i'm also thinking of this entry and how it still holds true.

i'm in the midst of another birthing process, both internally and externally.

i feel good.
and i'm grateful.

iba yeye mi
iba baba mi
iba olodumare olojo oni
iba orisa
iba egungun idile mi
iba egbe mi
iba elders, teachers, mentors, spirit guides

ase o

#4: joy, peace and serenity despite circumstances

(see: the list)

well, i'm back from beautiful california.

i hardly know what day it is, and daylight savings isn't helping my jet lag at all, but i am full of gratitude and peace.

i was on a business trip at a retreat center just outside san francisco, so there was definitely work involved, but i also had time to be quiet and open myself to healing.

just before leaving, i was distraught. after the white water rapids ride my life's been the last couple of months, the last thing i wanted was to have to pack up and go to the west coast.

but when we landed and i stepped off the plane, it was green and warm with flowers everywhere...i was immediately enchanted.

the center's gardens were filled with all kinds of surprises:

a celtic cross with a mossy, impossibly green grass planted in front of it that i just had to stand on barefoot;

st. francis standing in the hollows of trees;

a buddha holding blessed blades of grass in his arms;

the perfume of hundreds of flowers--always different depending on where you were sitting or standing, sometimes dependent on the direction of the wind;

a beautiful labyrinth.

there were even sequoias--i real treat for a (rather literal) tree-hugger. i never thought i'd see one.

i attended a transcendent taize service and reconnected with a spirit guide i haven't seen since i was a child.

...and it would take forever to tell you about all the wonderful people i had the opportunity to meet. my last day there, i realized that i had learned quite a bit about how i want to operate as a priest and a woman on a spiritual path just by being in the presence of this group of deeply human, deeply committed individuals.

i knew i needed renewal, but i wasn't sure how i would get it without an expensive plane ticket and a whole lot of time (that i didn't have) off work.

god/dess is so good to me. this job has already repaid me several times over for the extra early mornings and commuting hassles. may it continue to do so.

my ori is securely aligned with my heart, hands and feet.

i can begin to breathe deeply and pray again, secure in the knowledge that i have the power to manifest the bliss i want.

my dreams are back.
my egbe is with me.
i am well on my way to happiness.

ase.

i am in struggle.

without guns
without face-hugging bandanas.

i'm struggling to find my voice.
to define myself.
and love what i find, fiercely.

to clear my mind
keep my house clean.

this struggle will not define a people
or unite a nation.

it's just me trying to grow into myself.

a struggle to wean myself from apathy
and reject womb-damaging things
like stagnation
and broken hearts.

allowing time to indulge my fascination with the saints.

a fight to pray like i should
cuss less
take my time
be easy on myself.

i aspire to define my addictions.
to court sensation, passion, fullness and adoration.
to flirt with lust.

a blissful battle.

in search of a powerful eroticism

i reread audre lorde's (iba t'orun) "the uses of the erotic" on the train the other day, and it made my heart hurt a little.

during a conversation with c., i realized (again) how complacent and sedated i've become; how i have betrayed my wild woman, allowing parts of her to hibernate or suffer from dehydration for far too long.

first, mama audre tells us:

There are many kinds of power, used and unused, acknowledged or otherwise. The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling. In order to perpetuate itself, every oppression must corrupt or distort those various sources of power within the culture of the oppressed that can provide energy for change. For women, this has meant a suppression of the erotic as a considered source of power and information within our lives.

We have been taught to suspect this resource, vilified, abused, and devalued within western society. On the one hand, the superficially erotic has been encouraged as a sign of female inferiority; on the other hand, women have been made to suffer and to feel both contemptible and suspect by virtue of its existence.

furthermore...

As women, we have come to distrust that power which rises from our deepest and nonrational knowledge. We have been warned against it all our lives by the male world, which values this depth of feeling enough to keep women around in order to exercise it in the service of men, but which fears this same depth too much to examine the possibilities of it within themselves. So women are maintained at a distant/inferior position to be psychically milked, much the same way ants maintain colonies of aphids to provide a life-giving substance for their masters.

But the erotic offers a well of replenishing and provocative force to the woman who does not fear its revelation, nor succumb to the belief that sensation is enough.

precisely. sensation is not enough. my hunger goes much deeper than that.

one of the first steps towards my satisfaction was obtaining fulfilling employment. all praise to my ori, egbe and the orisa, i have done that.

but it's only the first movement. in many ways, i'm still starving.

The erotic is a measure between our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves.

indeed. it has touched me, fully and deeply--and not just in love.

It is never easy to demand the most from ourselves, from our lives, from our work. To encourage excellence is to go beyond the encouraged mediocrity of our
society is to encourage excellence. But giving in to the fear of feeling and working to capacity is a luxury only the unintentional can afford, and the unintentional are those who do not wish to guide their own destinies.

This internal requirement toward excellence which we learn from the erotic must not be misconstrued as demanding the impossible from ourselves nor from others. Such a demand incapacitates everyone in the process. For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness.

hallelujah.

The aim of each thing which we do is to make our lives and the lives of our children richer and more possible. Within the celebration of the erotic in all our endeavors, my work becomes a conscious decision - a longed-for bed which I enter gratefully and from which I rise up empowered.

Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. And the lack of concern for the erotic root and satisfactions of our work is felt in our disaffection from so much of what we do. For instance, how often do we truly love our work even at its most difficult?

i feel like i would be terribly dangerous if i were so empowered. seeing women like dark daughta making the attempt is a blessing. she and others encourage me to find my own way towards freedom, past the fragmentation and the lies i tell myself to fit in and make it through the weeks.

i am learning that it isn't just my creativity that's fallen away from the nucleus of who i am--parts of my sensuality, sexuality, even parts of my spirituality feel incomplete.

i don't just have writing blocks these days, i have prayer ones as well. what can i say to my shrines when i can barely speak to my ori? what once seemed so simple has become a chore.

As women, we need to examine the ways in which our world can be truly different. I am speaking here of the necessity for reassessing the quality of all the aspects of our lives and of our work, and of how we move toward and through them.

The very word erotic comes from the Greek word eros, the personification of love in all its aspects - born of Chaos, and personifying creative power and harmony. When I speak of the erotic, then, I speak of it as an assertion of the lifeforce of women; of that creative energy empowered, the knowledge and use of which we are now reclaiming in our language, our history, our dancing, our loving, our work, our lives.

somehow i have been cut off from the source.

i'm wondering what part the last month has played in this drama, how much i've dealt with and how much i haven't.

...but that'd be another blog altogether.

Beyond the superficial, the considered phrase, "It feels right to me," acknowledges the strength of the erotic into a true knowledge, for what that means is the first and most powerful guiding light toward any understanding. And understanding is a handmaiden which can only wait upon, or clarify, that knowledge, deeply born. The erotic is the nurturer or nursemaid of all our deepest knowledge.

this is going at the bottom of the blog as my newest quote. maybe posted above the goddesspace. a new mantra.

The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference.

...and this is why i like DD, despite her insistence that many of us (whoever the "we" happen to be who stumble upon her musings) won't.

i don't need to nitpick with her about the different ways in which we see the world. i respond to her as my heart and mind dictate, and she responds to me in kind. in that, we don't bicker, but find common ground. when we disagree, we don't polarize one another--we teach each other.

that's the way it's supposed to be.

mama audre had so much to contribute in the way of the conscious acknowledgement and acceptance of difference...it breaks my heart that we didn't have her for just a few more years.

Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy, in the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, harkening to its deepest rhythms so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, or examining an idea.

That self-connection shared is a measure of the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife.

This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all. For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe.

this is why my relationship with him was and still is so important; we lived and breathed this essay before i even knew it existed. we still do.

now that our love is shifting and transforming into another form of being, i'm wondering how it will still be capable of feeding me, how my current situation may need to shape shift.

how fear has factored in to my desires and loves.
the walls are getting thin.

During World War II, we bought sealed plastic packets of white, uncolored margarine, with a tiny, intense pellet of yellow coloring perched like a topaz just inside the clear skin of the bag. We would leave the margarine out for a while to soften, and then we would pinch the little pellet to break it inside the bag, releasing the rich yellowness into the soft pale mass of margarine. Then taking it carefully between our fingers, we would knead it gently back and forth, over and over, until the color had spread throughout the whole pound bag of margarine, thoroughly coloring it.

I find the erotic such a kernel within myself. When released from its intense and constrained pellet, it flows through and colors my life with a kind of energy that heightens and sensitizes and strengthens all my experience.

mmm hmmmm...

We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings. But, once recognized, those which do not enhance our future lose their power and can be altered. The fear of our deepest cravings keeps them suspect and indiscriminately powerful, for to suppress any truth is to give it strength beyond endurance. The fear that we cannot grow beyond whatever distortions we may find within ourselves keeps us docile and loyal and obedient, externally defined, and leads us to accept many facets of our own oppression as women.

...But when we begin to live from within outward, in touch with the power of the erotic within ourselves, and allowing that power to inform and illuminate our actions upon the world around us, then we begin to be responsible to ourselves in the deepest sense. For as we begin to recognize our deepest feelings, we begin to give up, of necessity, being satisfied with suffering, and self-negation, and with the numbness which so often seems like the only alternative in our society. Our acts against oppression become integral with self, motivated and empowered from within.

In touch with the erotic, I become less willing to accept powerlessness, or those other supplied states of being which are not native to me, such as resignation, despair, self-effacement, depression, self-denial.

i believe that this is the message mama gena intended when she, essentially, watered down and commercialized this lesson for her school of womanly arts.

it's definitely a wonderful beginning--if that's the level you need to be reached on--but i hope that the actual classes touch on something deeper and more critically minded than what glitters on the surface.

back to the essay:

And yes, there is a hierarchy. There is a difference between painting a black fence and writing a poem, but only one of quantity. And there is, for me, no difference between writing a good poem and moving into sunlight against the body of a woman I love.

This brings me to the last consideration of the erotic. To share the power of each other's feelings is different from using another's feelings as we would use a Kleenex. When we look the other way from our experience, erotic or otherwise, we use rather than share the feelings of those others who participate in the experience with us. And use without consent of the used is abuse.

In order to be utilized, our erotic feelings must be recognized. The need for sharing deep feeling is a human need. But within the european-american tradition, this need is satisfied by certain proscribed erotic comings-together. These occasions are almost always characterized by a simultaneous looking away, a pretense of calling them something else, whether a religion, a fit, mob violence, or even playing doctor. And this misnaming of the need and the deed give rise to that distortion which results in pornography and obscenity - the abuse of feeling.

deep.

The erotic cannot be felt secondhand. As a Black lesbian feminist, I have a particular feeling, knowledge, and understanding for those sisters with whom I have danced hard, played, or even fought. This deep participation has often been the forerunner for joint concerted actions not possible before.

But this erotic charge is not easily shared by women who continue to operate under an exclusively european-american male tradition. I know it was not available to me when I was trying to adapt my consciousness to this mode of living and sensation.

...and it's still not available, mama audre, not even for a heterosexual black woman--whatever scraps of privilege that offers me.

i am built for this kind of life.
it is always on the tip of my tongue.
the rhythm of it guides my heart...
whether i'm loving someone
writing
designing sacred space...

it's there. it's waiting. it's mine.

but i still have plenty of work to do before the erotic is fully fused to my life.

maybe that should be my new prayer...

reality

i have a serious thing about fulfillment. i am not a pleasant person when i am unhappy or dissatisfied.

i don't expect to be free of desire, nor do i see the absence of desire as a natural state--unless your desire is warped into addiction.

if and when i begin to feel dissatisfied or distressed, i'm learning to shift reality, to make things look, sound and feel the way i want and expect them to.

i think people get caught up in understanding that process in a negative sense, i.e., you have to hurt or harm others to achieve that goal.

you don't.
you do not have to universally impose your will to achieve your bliss.

the universe has created a space for you--you do the work to find or open that space.

the need to bend others to your will is a sign of weakness and laziness. conquering isn't the same as mastering.

i don't need to make over anything not worth my ashe.

i voice the desire, i move towards the space.

the worlds of work and drudgery will never act as mother.

the earth and the universe will.

sara tavares, indigo toenails & other random thoughts

this sista is providing the soundtrack to my life right now. of course i don't understand everything she's saying, but "balance" is all i needed to hear...

i am once again embraced by my two great loves. both at a distance, but still strangely satisfying. it feels like the right place to be. each of them brings a different energy, and i'm in need of both versions of heaven to make it through this particular period.

buzzwords: sexuality, inspiration, laughter, growth...

the job hunt will need to commence again soon. i'm nervous about continuing into next month's retrograde, but i'm going to have to jump in anyway.

there are words forming, but the ideas are coagulating instead of flowing. as usual, i'm at a bit of a loss when it comes to how i should get that going...

i thought i'd be able to come in this evening and pray with renewed fervor, but an unexpected babysitting bout nixed that plan. i'm learning that it's better for me to stay quiet until i have my intentions fully and firmly evolved, because what i ask for, i get.

because of the difficulties that have come with this summer, i'm welcoming fall more than usual. but feeling the air cool down and watching the leaves change color always saddens me. even if it's just a little bit.

loving gratitude

i highly recommend falling in love with yourself. often.

i'd forgotten the power inherent in committing to the pursuance of one's own bliss. seems like mama gena's teachings are settling in and catching up with me.

making a conscious, prayerful decision to release any and all thoughts/actions/situations that are impeding my progress is one of the best things i've ever done for myself.

i don't pretend to be finished--it's a process full of maintenance sessions, backslides, and conscientious review. even so, i've gained a tremendous amount of momentum, and i can see and feel it working in my life.

in that spirit, today i am grateful for...

the lessons of the universe
love
prayers & the surety that they will be answered
clarity
ikea!
womanhood
wonder
mindfulness
car warranties
strength
incense, candles, essential oils, and crystals & the work they help us do
abundance
the entire color spectrum
peace
good food
understanding

declaration

note: this was originally posted to a blog i write about a particular person surrounding a particular situation. it's public (in the hopes of someone stumbling across it and learning that yes, virginia, there is life after soulmates), but not really linked to anything else.

i felt it best to, as far as possible, separate that healing from the rest of my existence. at its inception, i even removed some entries from this blog to place there.

but when i wrote this today, it seemed imperative that i blur the barriers a bit. it even applies, to a somewhat lesser degree, to this situation.

you might need to read this.
you might want to have someone else read it.

in whatever way you need to,
from whatever situation you need to,
if there's something clipping your wings--
even if that something is something you love, dearly,

free yourself.

peace.

* ~~ * ~~ * ~~

a long time ago, you stopped looking into my eyes.
said you couldn't stand it...

but when you ceased to look at me, to see me, it obviously became too easy for you to think i no longer loved you.

i'm sorry you've had to learn the hard way that i never stopped, that my love for you has remained as deep and fluid as ever.

the difference is that i have reined it in. there are many things i'll still do for you, but only on my terms and in my way. i will not let you dictate the whens, wheres, and hows--directly or indirectly.

my limitations are my own, and if i choose to love you one moment and ignore you in another, i will.

you have tortured yourself into this corner, and you will have to get yourself out.

...but i'll still love you when you come out on the other side.

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.

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.

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.

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