boundaries!

my first video blog: a little something on good boundaries and how they keep us on track.

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]

Dr. Amos Wilson

i grew up calling this common sense...but it's not always that way...

mother wisdom speaks

a former coworker gifted me and some others with this poem almost two years ago...it was beautiful then, but it has really special meaning for me now.

Mother Wisdom Speaks
by Christine Lore Webber
from All Will Be Well

Some of you I will hollow out.
I will make you a cave.
I will carve you so deep the stars will shine in your darkness.
You will be a bowl.
You will be the cup in the rock collecting rain.

I will hollow you with knives.
I will not do this to make you clean.
I will not do this to make you pure.
You are clean already.
You are pure already.

I will do this because the world needs the hollowness of you.
I will do this for the space that you will be.
I will do this because you must be large.
A passage.
People will find their way through you.
A bowl.
People will eat from you
and their hunger will not weaken them unto death.
A cup to catch the sacred rain.

My daughter, do not cry. Do not be afraid.
Nothing you need will be lost.
I am shaping you.
I am making you ready.

Light will flow in your hollowing.
You will be filled with light.
Your bones will shine.
The round, open center of you will be radiant.
I will call you Brilliant One.
I will call you Daughter Who Is Wide.
I will call you Transformed.

this blog: version 3.1*

peace & blessings, beloveds!

obviously there have been some changes around here--with more coming.  including video blogs!

i'm kinda trying to hype myself up there.  i'm not really into the idea of slapping my mug up here, for a variety of reasons.  but...when Spirit speaks, i listen.  and the truth is, it's time to combat some of the wack interesting things floating around in the name of knowledge and understanding.

plus, i'm a bit slicker than i've let on.  time to own that and put in some work.

but that's enough tooting my own horn.  if you want a taste of some of the things i'll be touching on, check out Queen Mother Imakhu's podcasts or her youtube channel.    

i'm also in the process of starting my reiki practice, so there will be some cross-posting re: healing energy work.  if you'd like more information on that, feel free to comment here or get in touch directly.

so there you have it: the long version of my vague little update from two weeks ago.  and...there's more coming.  god/dess ain't finished with me yet.

as always, whether you comment often or never, i sincerely appreciate you reading and following along with me. let's go! (c) casamena

m khut n mer**,

Nuit Menhit (Omi)



*i think. i can't keep up. lol.

**m khut n mer is a kemetic salutation that essentially translates to "in light and love".

peeking in...

wow...i didn't realize it's been almost a month since i wrote here.

on the other hand, i feel like i've lived a lifetime over the last couple of weeks, so random blogging kinda fell off the agenda.

i've taken my spirituality to a new level and gained a new family.

i've been gifted with a love sweet and delicate as a newborn. instead of being lovers, i often feel like we're devoted parents determined to see "our baby" thrive.

i am, once again, at the beginning of something. several somethings, even.

and i am grateful.

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.

singlehood chronicles # 9

in the midst of a conversation yesterday, i realized that i've never had the relationship i truly desire.

yes, there have been close calls and other glimpses, but not a full-blown expression of it.  something's always managed to get in the way: distance, school, fatherhood, workaholism {his, not mine}.  an emergency always popped up. a trip always had to be taken. money always had to be made.

life is gonna get in the way, no doubt.  but it seemed unnaturally problematic.  then there were the things i saw and sensed, but didn't name until much later: trauma was a big one, mental illness or distress was another.

eventually i realized i had to state a definitive boundary about what work i was not willing to do in my heart and in my bed; that i wanted my purpose to be lived in my larger life, not my intimate one.

as i approach my mid-30s, my sincerest desire is for a relationship where we sincerely make time to grow with and love one another despite the ebb and flow of life.

i need a man who knows how to navigate his existence so the distractions aren't allowed to dictate our pace.

i want time spent being: chillin in our/each other's space after work a couple days a week, lazy weekends in bed or on long drives...

this probably means no more daddies.  y'all know i love the babies. and, yes, i know i'm at the age where it can be difficult {note: NOT impossible} to meet someone who hasn't had a partnership or marriage that's resulted in at least one child.

however, i've observed that parenting a school-aged little one is very time and energy consuming, and it puts a lot of weight on a new relationship.  this is especially true since (a) i don't have children myself and (b) i am not willing to include said child(ren) in our dealings until/unless the relationship becomes a serious one.

i've also noticed that in those situations, time with me becomes a refuge--now, that's something i naturally and enjoyably create for lovers. but i want that reciprocated.  and that's difficult for a man who is perpetually exhausted by his life outside of "us".

for better or worse, that's where i am right now.

the good news?  i feel like i'm on the verge of realizing this dream. there are different and no less serious challenges...but nothing insurmountable.

guess we'll just have to wait and see, huh? 

growing up black

i love tumblr.

when i first arrived there, i barely understood it: a blogging interface designed mainly for artists, photographers, and other creatives who wanted to blog without words. although it's greatly expanded since then, it is still, mainly, that.

tumblr's also allowed me to encounter a fantastic community of insightful, intelligent, constantly questioning women whose thoughts i enjoy reading and, occasionally, engaging with.  i say occasionally because i try to keep the words to a minimum, poetry being an exception. i built my tumblog as a space to take in inspiring imagery, and i've largely kept it that way.

however, i have noticed the stories of {presumably} blackfolks and other people of color who didn't grow up around blackfolks/their folks.  and the deprogramming that has to happen when one grows up in that context. 

by no means were my parents or extended family what you would call "race people".  there's not even a black muslim among us.  i heard few explicitly political or religious conversations, although i picked up nuggets of their philosophies. folks shouldn't go without in a country this affluent. god is love. that kind of thing.

one thing that was explicitly spoken: whitefolks weren't "like us". they weren't raised to the level of angels or reduced to heinous demons; they were just different. and, sometimes, they tried to make us feel bad about who we were. but that was just some bullshit they made up.  and so what? we're still here anyway.

yes, i heard the stories of carrying food with you when you traveled.  all the places we couldn't go to or neighborhoods we couldn't live in.  my great grandmother was a domestic worker. my dad constantly railed against the racism in law enforcement--but he'd also praise those whose love for the city enabled them to do their jobs well and fairly.

and, yes, i got the equivalent of the "don't bring 'em home if they can't use your comb" speech {that might be another entry...}.

on the other hand, they also didn't care if my friends came from roland park or north avenue, as long as they were good friends.  they didn't hang with bourgie negroes, and no one felt the need to sacrifice culture and sense of self to "make it".   

my schools--because they were built around ability more than zoning, property tax, or anything else--were more multicultural than most in baltimore city.  in elementary school especially, i was taught by teachers who engaged us and loved us--race or ethnicity notwithstanding.  i fully understand that for a solidly middle class, urban black girl, i had a charmed public education.  on all levels.

what's all this mean? it means that whiteness--as a social and psychological concept--did not truly enter my life until college. the notion of white supremacy making the world go 'round was something i don't think i had language for until late adolescence, if then.  no one insulted me (to my face) with a racial slur. with family, i only heard the n-word used for someone you didn't like--and when it was said out of that context, it was amongst blackfolks in varied and colorful ways.    

i helped run "sisters for black awareness" in high school, but that wasn't to confront whiteness or make safe space, i've just always been interested in my identity and heritage beyond the "we came here as slaves" narrative. there were times when the organization had to step up in that way, but that's another blog.

whiteness wasn't prettier. it wasn't easier. if anything, it was almost pitiable. it didn't matter if most of the folks on tv, the president, or similar folks were white--probably because the first mayor of my city that i was aware of was black.  the main magazines in our house were ebony, jet and essence. 

blackness was normal.  broad, wide and deep.

and now, i can see how wonderful a blessing that knowing is.   

random thought: cooking with garlic

one day i'm going to get one of those gadgets so my fingers don't smell like garlic for days after i've been cooking.

what had happened was, i fell in love with fresh garlic a few years ago and never looked back. no garlic powder in my cupboard. nope.

then again...i kinda like the stickiness of the oil and the crunch of the paper. so maybe i won't.

me and this tactile thing, i swear...

full moon gratitude

ain't got much money on this friday, but i am feeling quite grateful for what i have got:

breath and life in my body

an understanding of reasons, seasons and lifetimes

friends and family

the willingness and ability to learn, grow and expand

health and strength

sound mind

love/loving

i am blessed, and trying my best to be a blessing. that's what i'm holding on to today.

amy, amy, amy...

one of my favorite artists of the last few years has passed on...ironically joining the 27 club.

i'm gonna credit a combination of okplayer and my girl sparkle for putting me on to her. the first notes of "rehab" hit me like a train. once i had back to black, i knew i had to go back and buy frank, her first album.

i related to her on several levels.

i laughed at "f*ck me pumps".

i played "love's a losing game" and "wake up alone" until i could sing every note.

i cosigned "in my bed", "stronger than me" and "some unholy war"--having been (and still being) all those women.

i triumphed with her when i heard "tears dry on their own", remembering the moments when i was truly, finally over him, him, and him.

i didn't consider it at first, but there is something to her channeling lady day some two generations later. since i discovered jazz, i've loved billie--probably for the same reasons i love amy: that willingness to put your heart and soul on record, literally, bruised and bloodied for all the world to see. crying through the music so we can take it out on our pillows and barstools. to this day, you'll find me pulling out "good morning heartache" on an emotionally difficult evening.

i had a blake, too. our relationship wasn't nearly as dysfunctional, but the bond was similar. we were tied to each other's spirits. we fueled and loved each other in rarely rivaled ways. recently i had to make the sort of break i'm not sure amy ever did. it hurt, and it's still hurting. but i knew i couldn't walk that road of stagnation and pain--not even for that love.

what really hurt amy? did it start with her wild dance with blake? before that? i often wondered.  i do know i could have slipped down her slope.  i've seen addiction both in my personal and professional lives and glimpsed it in my own. i have an unwavering compassion for folks with monkeys, demons, white horses, and pink elephants.

i kept hoping i wouldn't see this news. when she slipped from the tabloid glare, i thought maybe she was preparing to come back--bigger and better than ever. and maybe she was.

instead....she let go. 

rest, amy. rest.
may your gift inspire, and may your story save.
ase.

humbled

the best gift i ever gave myself was surrendering to my intuition.

i freely admit that i don't always (consciously) know why do the things i do. i follow hunches, pray on a whim, pick up pebbles that catch my eye.

i'll stop in my tracks for that "still, small voice".

i'll sometimes have a candle, gemstone, or knick knack for months before i completely understand why.

but it always works out. there's always a reason, always a blessing.

for that, i am grateful.

an (un)likely story: from abuse to healing

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of sexual abuse, molestation, sexual coercion, self-mutilation. the triggering text is noted by border lines.

if you need immediate help or resources for these issues, skip the text, and scroll down to the bottom border.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{note: i encourage you to share this as you deem necessary. i only ask that you please do so in full--including the trigger warning--and with proper credit. thank you in advance.}

power to the people

i love dancing flash mobs, but this is one i could totally get with.

we mad.

yup. sure are.

poverty is not revolutionary.

i don't think i've ever seen this articulated as well as Sis. LaTava did on facebook recently.

i'm posting the note in its entirety since not everyone would be able to see it if i simply linked back.

An oath to poverty is NOT indicative of a revolutionary mindset; it is a sign of ABUSE!"

In the 22 years of knowingly and actively working on behalf of my people I have seen family after family, couple after couple, choosing to live in what I call an oath to poverty. I have seen women hold to commitments to men who are unable (really just unwilling) to [help] provide the basic provisions of food, clothing, shelter, transportation and money for them and their children in the name of “Amerikkka is falling” and “This white man’s system is going down. We gotta let go of materialism.” Hmm… I agree. Materialism is a major problem and contributes greatly to a person’s willingness to live in economic slavery.

HOWEVER, having decent, safe and stable housing IS NOT A MATERIALISTIC EXPECTATION! Being able to feed your children, not just to sustainability, but to satisfaction IS NOT A MATERIALISTIC EXPECTATION! Insisting upon reliable transportation and living in a house with heat AND lights AND water IS NOT A MATERIALISTIC EXPECTATION! Having a voice in your own house IS NOT TRYING TO BE THE MAN in your relationship, nor is it being a FEMINIST! Having NO SAY SO about how the money is spent or earned is ECONOMIC OPPRESSION and is a form of ABUSE! Being made to feel guilty because you change your mind about a path taken or a decision made DOES NOT MAKE YOU DISLOYAL OR A LIAR! It means that you have intelligently reconsidered your options based on new or additional information or changes in circumstances.

BLACK WOMAN! If you and your children are living like this… it may be his fault, but YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE! And you have the power and authority to CHANGE IT today! Choosing to live in poverty, oppression or abuse at the hands of a man who says he loves you is much like being a passenger on the TITANIC. By telling you that you must learn to be satisfied with nothing, he is telling you that the ship is sinking and we must learn to live in the ocean. Practice holding your breath and regulating your body temperature so that you don’t feel so bad when death comes your way.

If, in fact, the ship (amerikkka) is sinking (and the ship is damn sure sinking) it would seem to me that a logical next step would be to find and or build a lifeboat that will carry you and your children safely back to shore (sure footing). It would seem to me that you would desire a means to return you to the standard of living to which you are accustom. If in your so-called consciousness you have learned that you are in fact descendants of “kings and queens,” then why don’t you work toward providing the finest life your skills and education can produce for you and your family.

Like many, I too want to leave this country, but I do not intend to do so on the back of a mule. Nor do I desire to flee to a destination only to find myself living in primitive conditions all in the name of revolution. If it is true that this white man’s education system is inadequate in comparison to the brilliance of our legendary wisdom (and it is), then I should be willing and able to easily master it to the point of providing myself with a quality of life I can be proud to offer to my children as their heritage. My "supreme" knowledge, wisdom and understanding should produce a woman whom my daughters seek to emulate and qualities my sons desire in future wives. If this does not sound like the results you are experiencing from your "superior enlightenment" SOMETHING IS WRONG! Look around you. Find a woman you RESPECT and admire, who is NOT living in the same dissatisfactory (sorry-ass) condition you are dying in and ask her for her sisterhood and her help. And when she tries to help your Black-ass… LISTEN! If you allow false pride and/or pretentious titles (i.e. queen, goddess, priestess, empress, oracle, tree stump, door mat, whatever) keep you from accepting the help you need to CHANGE YOUR CONDITION you are a fool and a fraud. You only hurt yourself and your children, because once you become the total dead weight that your death style produces, your so-called man will be on to the next one.

Any REAL MAN (any real king) wants a woman who is of high quality character, who sets standards that will improve the quality of his character more and more every day. A woman who he knows that in her own rights commands the honor, respect and admiration of others. A woman who will bring forth children with the cosmic intuitive nature to produce and create beyond the furthest imaginations of a slave. A woman who is the queen YOU WERE DESTINED TO BE!

*drops mic*

my ancestors, i tell you...

today i had this strange urge to look through the book of psalms....as someone who was not raised reading the bible, i figured it might have something to do with my ancestors...

i started to pick up the bible i bought for myself a few years ago, but decided to look at the one on my ancestor altar instead. it was my great uncle's--a catholic bible, so it has a few more books than most standard protestant versions.

i went to psalms, and started to flip through, thinking i'd stop on a page with a message. it's happened before.

instead, i found a wallet sized portrait of my grandfather i'd forgotten i put there.

when i turned it over, there was a note:

"to: l---y
from: pop pop
1978"

apparently the photo was taken the year i was born.

*cue teary eyes*

i love you, too.

open post: when "consciousness" fails to recognize linked oppressions. or: if you're brown, stick around (unless you're gay).

i was just having a discussion with my godbrother around this book, and had a thought:

i've noticed that the problem with [black / "afrocentric" homophobia] is that they're focused in on sexual acts, which, in turn, are sometimes confused with fetishistic practices. but trying to bring the complexities of kink into the conversation is pretty futile...

generally:

what makes babies = good
what doesn't make babies = bad.

the quality of the relationships in question and/or the psychosocial underpinnings of human relationships as a whole never comes into the conversation. it's black folks' fear of rejection/extermination/cultural annihilation on steroids. now, that's a real fear that's been imbued in us over generations--but we have to get beyond internalizing our oppression, even in our bedrooms.

so you have all that. coupled with a general lack of education around the basics of sex and sexual expression (except in the most patriarchal, male-dominated/controlled, sexist sense), it's a recipe for disaster when it comes to queer people.

folks wanna complain about "europeans" being sexually/sensually repressed, not realizing they've caught the same disease.

in my understanding, our ancestors understood ALL ways of being, living AND loving--balanced, imbalanced, and beyond. [emphasis added]

and, as i added later, this attitude can also make things pretty rough for the sistas, albeit in a different way*.

what do y'all think?



*aside from the blog entry, i also find that these same voices are the ones railing against reproductive justice for black women and other women of color, couched in "concern" and, again, that looming fear of genocide.

awesome stuff

i read this.

then i watched this.

i'm so glad that the conversations are finally finding better frames and language, and expressing the intersections that so desperately need to be acknowledged. well done.