deja vu all over again

i don't think this season is going to be an easy one.

last year was a nice respite. i think i was ecstatic to not have to be worried about the annual fight/breakup. guess that high's worn off.

considering some of the breakthroughs i've been having, it's no wonder i'm sensitive all over again.  

i've gotta remember to keep my oyin ori handy.   

remember sweetness. remember sweetness. it wasn't always bitter...remember...


singlehood chronicles #8

i am still stuck on this:
Over the weekend, I got to hang out with some CFs in Atlanta, all single, or kind of single, and primarily straight. Each of us found ourselves in varied states of relational ambivalence: loving or liking someone who doesn’t quite love (or like) you back, at least not in the way you deserve; fearful of trying to date again after years of disappointment and failed expectations; and recovering from heart break or at least deeply hurt feelings. Yet, we are all also unapologetically pragmatic about getting our needs met even when conditions prove non-ideal. As a pragmatist, I had to ask, “is it feminist to remain in a situation where you aren’t getting what you need or want, but you are at least getting something?” What I heard was a collective groan, as we all thought it through. And then after that, a painful, collective, and resolved sigh.

No, probably not. But it is what it is...

And IT is the condition in which we find ourselves. Perpetually alone. Needing love, needing companionship, needing sex. But willing to settle for less than, if only for a moment, even as the sermons, feminist and otherwise, play in the background. Is love enough? In the lonely moments of an otherwise full life, love definitely seems like the solution, like the stitching that turns a beautiful piece of fabric into the form-fitting number that accentuates the best parts of yourself. For all of us who don’t have the love that we so desperately want, it most definitely feels like enough.

But is it really?

i know it's not enough for me.

sometimes, the "close, but no cigar" moments leave me just as despondent, heartbroken, and sore as a ended relationship would.  still, like crunktastic, i find myself asking, "what would i have otherwise?"

sometimes i feel brave, loving how i can, where i can. but when i get frustrated, the part of me that needs one true, real love feels like i'm selling out.

i'm still trying to reconcile those selves...balance the needs with the wants, the reality with my dreams.

the only thing i'm sure of is that it has to be a sin that we cannot love better than this. that freedom, intelligence, and depth seem to make you a lonelier woman, rather than a cherished, genuinely sought after one. 

thus sayeth my moment of vulnerability.

*re-armors and picks up sword*

i'm still a soldier.


singlehood chronicles #7

a few nights ago, i realized there was some (digital) evidence from my last relationship lying around.  as i destroyed it, i became keenly aware that that was the last time i was loved.

it's not that i want to go back.  or pick up the phone.  hell, i don't even get sentimental for the good days.  in fact, i don't remember very many details except what comes in brief, random flashes.

but...i do remember that i was loved.  and i loved back.  i was connected to someone.  connection is natural to me. easy.

my entire life, i never doubted that i would have a partner, someone to walk through life with.  it wasn't that i was overly concerned with having a husband...it was more than that--a birthright, a way of being.  later, when i learned how shamans and other spiritual people worked in spousal teams, i saw a new dimension in the  relationships that offered that level of connection, and  i longed for a partner i could work with spiritually.

fairly recently i read something about people with libra ascendants having an "urge to merge" that they need to translate into serving others.

i think that's bullshit.*

the older i get, i become less sure that i'll have much energy to do anything without a serious love beside me. 

loving fuels me. it is my air; it is my food.  the security and safety inherent in a good relationship, in the best love, does wonders for me.  it enhances the way i move through the world. 

i only need one.

and i have no idea where he is.

*serving others is NOT bullshit. at all. but to arbitrarily suggest my "soul work" is to throw myself into serving and ignore my need for intimacy and relationship is...questionable at best. and then there's this...


brothas gonna work it out (?)

there are many gems in this piece, but this here?
...rather than continuing to blame Black women for the decline of the family, another one of Lawson’s really original ideas (side eye), why don’t we finally have an actual conversation about all the economic and social obstacles that impede traditional Black families. If the dude is expected to be the breadwinner, and black men are systematically underemployed, undereducated, and overincarcerated, there’s gonna be a problem. Black folks have been saying that since at least the 1940s; the only difference is that we recognized that we weren’t the ones causing the problem. Structural racism was and is. [emphasis mine]
ooooh wee.

always appreciate the perspective brought by the crunk feminist collective. i think y'all will, too.


handle that fo' me

there was a lot i wanted to get done this afternoon/evening.  in the end i had to settle for getting the dishes done, doing a load of laundry, and changing the sheets.

on the other hand, i was just over 400 miles from home this morning.  wound up at my desk by about 1pm.  settled in at home at around 4pm.

i suppose that's not too bad for one day.

i'm learning not to berate myself for "failing" to stick to the insane mental schedule i sometimes keep.

often, my next thought is: "this is why i need a husband / steady."  if i could afford one, i'd hire some kind of assistant, but for now, a capable man-friend is much cheaper. 

there's a lot i have to do on my own.  and i'm only one person.  a pretty awesome person, but still just one.

i need the option to tag team some shit.


the shadow scholar

this is mind blowing.

reading this, i can almost forgive a college professor who treated me as if i didn't write my own stuff for an honors course--although i still think that was on some "you can't be this smart, black girl" ish. my black teachers never assumed i was less than capable. and i was in boston.

i could also DO this. talk about tempting. that's just the kind of thing that would supplement my income quite nicely.

but it would eat at me. i know it. damn this moral compass.

but still...wow.


fear, loathing, spiders and breakthroughs

today i'm remembering that fear often stands in front of the wisdom we need.

now, i'm too stubborn and proud to let anything "scare" me for long.  i'll hide and cry for a little while, but i quickly get tired of myself.  eventually, i'll crawl out, take a deep breath, and bulldoze over whatever had the nerve to frighten me in the first place.

generally, this works.

but not with spiders.

i've been terrified of spiders my entire life.  there was no horrible incident or movie that did it.  it just was.  they show up in dreams, and i scream until i wake myself up.

as a child, i would wake my father--something of a cardinal sin in our house, given his work schedule--to do it for me. he was always very compassionate about it.

if i had to deal with my mother, she'd click her tongue and chastise the phobia. she was into the "you're bigger" and "they're more afraid of you" method, but it didn't work. size didn't matter, and if they were so scared, how come they didn't move like birds when i made loud noises or waved my arms? 

if they show up in my house, that's a wrap. if someone else is there--particularly a man--i have them stomp the ferocious insect out.  'cause, you know, it takes me forever to find something large/long enough where i don't have to be right in its face to kill it.  and i can barely look at it to verify its demise, but i have to in order to be at peace.

god help me if i swat at it and it jumps. or runs away so i have no idea where it is. 

i've been known to spend a night somewhere other than my bed after a failed squashing attempt.

yes, it's that serious.

i feel awful about this fear, particularly given my general indifference towards most other insects (i.e., i don't really like 'em, but they don't frighten me).  i often beg forgiveness before i smash them, aware that many cultures see spiders as good, helpful bugs and spiritual messengers.

i know grandmother spider is here to help me.  we've talked.  i know she wants to show me how to weave all my selves, gifts, and ideas into a self contained whole.  she's resourceful, living anywhere.  she's strong, and so is her web.   i've already been bitten.

who do you think taught you to make connections, weave thoughts? when you expand and your aura easily stretches across at least half a dozen pathways, who else do you think could have shown you that?

some of my greatest fears have been of my power, rooted in the notion that if i were to truly delve into myself, my deepest desires, dreams and ways of being, that'd be too much for this this existence.  i already feel alone enough; i need to be normal. 

as soon as i found writings speaking of spider as expansion, i understood a little more about my fear. 

even so, i've been floundering for some time, and, frankly, i'm tired of it.

i am more aware of my gifts than i've ever been, but i struggle with creating a cohesive whole. 

i know i need to center myself and begin weaving.

for me, in this lifetime, grandmother spider stands at that gateway.  if i'm going to pass through and gain the wisdom i need, she must be given her due.

*deep breath*

may the lessons be gentle.  and the apparitions few.


here come the blues...

i admire folks who can love autumn.

when summer ends, i take a deep breath and start counting the hours of sunlight that disappear. i realize that by thanksgiving, i'm probably going to be something of a wreck.

on my little corner of the east coast, we're coming to the end of the first officially chilly week, and all i want to do is hide in a cave and cry. no amount of hot cider, butternut squash, specialty seasonal coffee drink, or pumpkin muffins (not that i like pumpkin muffins...) will change that.

yes, the leaves are beautiful, but soon they will be gone...and i miss being surrounded by green.

yeah, the "holidays" are kinda sorta something to look forward to. but...eh.

come ooooon, spring...