damage control

in tracing my pattern of self censorship and self denial, this script emerges, courtesy of my inner child:  

i want everyone to be ok. people feel bad things...things they won't tell me about. i want to ask, but i think that will upset them.  i'll figure it out on my own. i usually do, somehow. i want to be good so everyone can be ok. upsetting them isn't good.  why can't everyone be happy? 

my parents were not abusive or even obtuse; no one would have smacked me upside the head if i asked a question--even a difficult one.  but, apparently, feeling their discomfort would have been just as bad.

fortunately or unfortunately, empathy killed my curiosity like the threat of corporeal punishment did my peers'; i had the blessing-curse of being smart and sensitive enough to see things, but not brash enough to ask about them.  instead, i developed the maddening predisposition of remaining on (self-imposed) call, trying to keep the next "disaster" from striking.*  

almost 5 years ago, i wrote this to baby girl:

honeychild,

just because you can see it and feel it doesn't mean you have to fix it. your vision and empathy are gifts, but they aren't always going to serve you well in love--unless it's to show you which ones to steer clear of. and you can't necessarily pass on every gift you have to others, no matter how noble your intention.  

there is no time or energy to waste on folks who don't wanna be healed--whether it's because they're not ready, they're immobilized by their own pain, they feel that they don't deserve love...whatever. it doesn't matter. not even if they're facing death. you can't change their destiny or snap their ori into shape.

as far as relationships went, i did not repeat myself.  still, there's a need to remove this programming in a deeper, more indelible fashion.  as i've said before, i have a hard time forgiving myself, and this is one of those times i could chop my own head off.  stupid, stupid girl...look what you did to yourself... 

taking a deep breath, i put things in perspective:

i was a child, and i made myself the center of things, as children are wont to do. although i didn't think i was the "problem," i made everyone else's problems mine, looked out for everyone--even when i didn't know what was wrong--because i wanted everything to be all right.    

the lesson?

i incarnated with my own life to lead, and my own destiny to fulfill.  i choose to use my gifts in ways that benefit me and others, and part of benefiting myself is taking care of myself.  my parents did their job, and never asked for anything above my ability. as a little girl, i did what i thought was right, but now it's time to let go of that "responsibility," because it is a false, exhausting one.  whatever their--or anyone else's--struggles, God/dess has it under control.   

all will be well.    



* abuse notwithstanding, i now realize much of this was a result of an osmotic connection to my father's PTSD.  as i've gotten older, the blanks have slowly filled in, and i can pinpoint my anxieties as a child to various reactions my father would have (and sometimes still has) and, maybe, my mother's coping mechanisms.  my early experiences of loss probably didn't help.
 

lost & found

lyrics

i can't say what this song was about for her, but for me it recalls the ongoing challenge to integrate my ego... the protective part(s) of myself i've constructed around my true Self/soul.

sometimes protection becomes obstruction...

gateway women

tonight i discovered gateway women, a blog geared towards childless women.  i think i'll be a frequent visitor.

the author is in her late 40s and from the UK, but i'd recommend it for anyone well into their 30s that isn't quite sure if things are gonna "work out" in the marriage/relationship/kids department.

she's definitely spoken to many of the things i've felt and thought over the last few years, but haven't seen written anywhere else.  in my head, i've started referring to them as single people problems.

from the "founder" page: 

Right now, there’s a whole generation of women who aren’t in the right relationship and can’t afford to have a baby ‘by themselves’ (even if they could face it).  Professional, educated, intelligent, capable, loving, emotionally-intelligent hard-working women. Women who’d be fantastic mothers. But it’s not looking like it’s going to happen. Where the hell are they supposed to take their bewilderment, their grief, their rage at how things have worked out?  They’ve followed the script our culture set out: worked hard at school, gone to university, built a career, tried to build relationships with men based on mutual respect and decency.  And where has it got them?

Gateway Women supports those women in the tunnel: those women still hoping that they’ll ‘manage’ to have a family. They’re just not sure how. Or with who. Or when. Or who’s going to pay for it…

Gateway Women sets out to challenge the ideas around identity and motherhood that are often at the heart of much unhappiness when the ‘baby story’ doesn’t work out, and to help women find their nomo mojo...  It is liberating, empowering, exciting and transformational work.

in speaking with a couple of friends tonight about feeling invisible, they mentioned the possibility of me being some kind of pioneer, similar to Jody referring to us as a group of women that (statistically speaking) hasn't existed before.

i can't say it's an exciting "first", but it's good to know i'm not alone.

the singlehood chronicles #11: a progressive retrospective

this summer's venus retrograde sparked a few revelations...and thanks to a rare astrological event destined to hit pisceans especially hard, my saturn return has lasted well into my 30s.

about 3 or 3.5 years ago, someone pushed the reset button on my life.  i left my spiritual family, my relationship finally, fully died...much of what i'd been working towards for the better part of a decade slipped away.

i don't regret any of it; it all had to happen. but it was still a lot to deal with.  i spent the first year sleepwalking, getting by as best i could between the pain and the anger.

in the last 18 months or so, things finally started to bear fruit.  i achieved my dream of becoming a Reiki master, and my spiritual life blossomed in wonderfully unexpected ways.  i am grateful for my new spiritual family, and honored that i'm still welcomed by the one i left.

perhaps most improbable: i can speak to my ex again. that one snuck up on me.

so i should be ecstatic, right?

well, part of me is. 

there's more, though.

i need to create space to breathe, live, love, laugh. i need to feel, deeply.  revel in corporeal joy...eating well, spending time in nature...

and, often, i need it to happen in a way that is not driven only by me.

i know i needed to learn how to do it "alone", but i never thought it would go on this long.  gradually, people i knew got busier, kids were born, marriages and relationships happened and un-happened...and i've just been plugging away at...me.

if i needed to talk something out, it was difficult to express "single people problems" in a way that didn't seem selfish, navel-gazing, or unimportant compared with the concerns of folk who are married and/or partnered, particularly with children.  

soon i realized the comparison was the problem. why give myself problems i don't have?  of course my challenges are different--i'm simply in a different situation.  

i suppose some would see a kind of paradox in declaring i desire a partnership without making the pursuit of one my alpha and omega.  frankly, i'd rather devote my energy to creating the life i long for.

you know that whole thing about shooting for the moon, so that even if you miss, you're still among the stars?  well, if i take the best care of myself now, my love will be a welcome complement and support to a content, whole, confident and blissed-out woman.

and if "the one" doesn't show, that's still a damn good space to be in.

Rihanna.

back in february, there was the letter...now the Oprah interview. 


i'm going to try to keep this under 10-page-term-paper length.

first, i think many folks are forgetting how young these two were and still are.  i'm about 10 years older than Rihanna, which means she's younger than my baby brother.

i also wonder how many folks are looking at the situation far removed from the dubious relationships of their 20s.  'cause you know what they say about hindsight.  and many of those lessons--horrifically painful or just a little heartbreaking--are necessary for us to grow into our full selves at 30something and beyond.   i want to save them from that as much as anyone. but the reality is that sometimes you just can't.

secondly, i'll repeat what i always say when we hear about the latest celebrity divorce, infidelity scandal or whatever: no one knows what's gone on behind closed doors.  intimate relationships are complex, nuanced, messy things. in love, we forgive what we'd kill someone else for thinking.  we don't know what conversations they've had, who went to what therapist, what late night conversations were had--on the phone or otherwise.

we also don't know--with the exception of Chris' admission to growing up seeing the "too much" too many black boys do--what they come from. who their examples were.

yes, kids always look up to the "cool".  i loved my teen idols as much as anyone else.  but you know who kept me from imitating every move, hairstyle, and wardrobe choice?  my parents.

i'm aware of and sensitive to the fact that not everyone has the same guidance.  but that doesn't make Rihanna an automatic role model any more than Madonna was in her day, or Etta James in hers.  we could debate the pros and cons of that...but i think too many folks forget to ask why familial and community-based relationships are so lacking.

kids who have to create fantasies to escape their realities are indicative of much bigger fish that need frying.  girls who don't have someone to protect them from dating an around-the-way-Chris are not going to stop dating men who beat them because Rihanna takes a stand.  they'll continue to blame her (and other victims), ask what she did to provoke it, and keep trying to be perfect to avoid their own assault...until they heal.  Rihanna talks about this sort of revelation in her time with Oprah.

on the flip side, every girl with a daddy worth the name knows that if they come home with a face looking like Rih-Rih's did, somebody's gonna die. full stop.    

we also seem to forget that because we have more access to celebrities than ever before, we're seeing more unfiltered versions of their lives.  the machines that surrounded many of our old school artists now only work for the biggest of the big (see: Beyonce).

and even then: we know what happened when Marvin met Janis. Ray Charles' heroin issues were all over the news.  and the Beatles damn near shot themselves out of the sky for being arrogant enough to proclaim themselves bigger than Jesus.

celebrity is celebrity.

life is life.

before judging someone in Rihanna's shoes, we'd do well to remember that. 

love, lust, and the in-between: thoughts on street harassment

{trigger warning: discussion of street harassment, sexual coercion}

in the spirit of some of my other musings (see: the slutty posts and the "what's natural" piece), i'd like to share something that's been on my mind, even though it might get me yelled at.

well...maybe not.  every time i've thought that was going to happen, it hasn't.  instead i get yelled at for things i think are pretty straightforward.  go figure.

each year as spring and summer take their sweet time getting here approach, sistas in my internet circles start speaking out about what's commonly known as street harassment.

i understand the concerns, particularly when there is actual physical intrusion involved.  and, as always, age, class, sexuality and certain physical characteristics can serve as buffers and offer privilege.  

i know the game has changed.  case in point: my ex was stabbed 'cause a woman wouldn't give a dude her number, and he intervened when the dude got outta hand. 

i know there are intersections with domestic violence, rape, coercion and other forms of sexual violence. i stand with women who feel uncomfortable being approached in an overt and/or crude manner--for whatever reason(s)--and i defend their right to defend themselves, if necessary. 

i also agree that some men are too quick to presume all women are comfortable with the same level(s) of approach, touch, and closeness.  i am not better, more special, nicer or "easier" than my friend because i'll let you hug me or rub my shoulders after knowing you for an hour (if you're cute.  maybe. ask me tomorrow.) and she won't.

we are not all the same woman in different skin.  stop that.


no, we should not be called outta our names.
no, a stranger should never fondle his genitals at the sight of you.
no, men shouldn't hiss, click, whistle or snap when they can otherwise speak.

our anger at those things is justified, a righteous, powerful tool that propels us towards gaining our just due.

yes, men should know better.
yes, male egos shouldn't be so fragile.


but...i also see complexity in this. 

as a daddy's girl and a woman who deeply loves men, i sometimes regret the ways we have this conversation.  it's a shame we've come to a reality where a woman has to consider all this when receiving an appreciative--albeit lusty--glance* or a good-intentioned request for a smile.**

i wonder what's been lost because many women have difficult, non existent, or deeply damaged relationships with their fathers and other men in their lives.  how does it hurt us when we've never lived with a man who was genuinely invested in our unique gifts and general awesomeness?

what would happen if we could hear a brotha say, "wow...you're beautiful" and genuinely reply, "thank you"--whether we wanted to exchange information or not?

i ask because i have a tendency to dig until i get to the root.  and in this situation, the root doesn't always feel like sexism or street harassment. it feels like broken hearts and shattered trusts.

as we fight against patriarchy, kyriarchy, and an encyclopedia's worth of -isms, it's important to understand the layers of interpersonal healing woven into these structures.

intellectualizing and analysis is very necessary, but we must avoid using it as a heart-shield.  remember to fight the real enemies, heal the real wounds, mourn the real losses. 

it is essential that we find time to love, to enjoy one another, fall into bliss.

i believe there are moments when we can afford that.

let's not lose that in the struggle.



*which they ALL do. even the sweet, artsy, wonderfully enlightened ones. hell, especially them. often, it's what they do AFTER the glance that matters.

**which might actually be genuine, if corny or ill-timed.  

the singlehood chronicles #10: 2 years later

i fit "the demographic": never married, over-30 Black woman.

the kicker: no kids.

trust me, i am not about to delve into the sickening, desperate/despondent, wedded-to-an-endangered-species trope which, in my opinion, is a distorted, hastily drawn conclusion about a complex issue.

still, my reality puts me in a distinct position even in my closest circles. i am slowly becoming The Only One, especially when it comes to motherhood. 

for now, i don't have the cold hard cash to ball my way through my blues.  the velvet glove on that iron fist would be much thicker if i did.  and although i'm still rather ambivalent about mothering and do not long for a child, several dynamics shift when the worlds of others revolve around babies and yours still revolves around...well, you.  

what's frightening is that love and loving has never felt as difficult or elusive as it does now.  i cannot remember a time when i've been this deeply, absolutely single.  for most of my life i've been involved in some kind of love relationship--not because someone told me i "had" to, or even because i sought them out.  they felt right for their time and were easy to find.  i took breaks at will, and it was easy to pick it back up.     

true, i've been focused on several other things over the last 3-4 years, and  i definitely consider myself blessed.  i'm enormously proud of what i've achieved, and i love my friends and the people in my life.  i'm grateful to have the support of my birth and chosen families.

but the clouds creep in more often now, and they're a little more articulate than usual.

i'm human.
i'm a woman.
a woman who has loved and been loved deeply and well.

i can't unlearn that love, or forget it.  no matter how many days i "wish" i could, i know i wouldn't trade those experiences for the world.

but for now, it makes sense to commit to living for myself, and living well.  my hope is to create a life that will allow me to care for myself and realize my dreams--whether there's someone to share it with or not.

i remain open to love, family and the rest, but i've gotten beyond mourning the lack of it.

clearly i'm meant for something outside the "usual" configuration.

time to go out and discover what that something is.
 

{for the other "singlehood" posts, click here.}

light and dark

a few nights ago, someone posted Alexyss Tylor's latest on tumblr and i went ahead and watched.  after that, i happened to find a Vice magazine piece where she told a bit more of her story.

now, i have a couple of issues with her--similar to the ones i have with Kola Boof, minus the twitter experience--but i also have a new-found respect.  she's a survivor.  i don't always dig the way she gets the word out, but i understand that she speaks to realities i have not lived and pains i do not know. 

i've noticed that many women labeled "crazy" or "wild" carry an abundance of Dark Goddess energy.  Her names are many: Kali, Nana Buluku, Pomba Gira, Pele, Maman Brigitte, Iyaami, Ezili Je Rouge, Sekhmet.  all-seeing eye havin, fire-spittin, ass kickin and name takin Divinity.  the Mama that brought you in and will take you out.

in this incarnation, my path stresses peace, light and balance, but i am aware that many sistas choose differently.  i can hardly blame them; the help and privilege i've been afforded don't come to all of us.   


when tragedy strikes or for those born into or out of pain, despair, and struggle, the light doesn't always make it through.  sometimes the darkness comes first, and it comes strongest. 

using the dark to heal is dangerous; it is the underworld journey, lonely and fierce.  the light is safer, calmer, sweeter.  but no matter the road, deep healing always carries the risk of no return.  you can get lost in the dark, struggling against your own demons. you can go too far into the light, becoming neglectful and drifting into the next world before your time.

only those who remain on the surface forget the sanctity of balance.

so to Kola, Alexyss and others i say: there but for the grace of God/dess go i. 


it's not an endorsement, or full agreement. i have my reasons for sticking to my way, as they do. still, i know that my way is only a way, not the way, and i'm not gonna reach everyone with it. 


this is a recognition.  an understanding. 


i'm in my lane, they're in theirs, but we're all on the highway to the same destination: the empowerment of our sistas and the reemergence of Goddesshood.  

choosing battles: privileged neglect vs. hate

once, someone shared a wise sentiment with me: they're not always out to get you, sometimes they just don't care.

of course, the result might be similar or the same, but that perspective cuts through a lot of paranoia and fear.  in a world full of ever-present boogeypeople, you can scare yourself right into apathy or inaction if you aren't careful.

however, if YOU care, that's power. 'cause you might get someone else on the bandwagon.

the folks who are supposed to hate us so much continue living life--their perceived evils and imbalances notwithstanding--while too many of us have stopped living to shoot at shadows.

if they were that obsessed with coming for us, they'd get little else done.  but much still gets done. has been getting done.

to be certain, much of it is not in our favor, to our advantage, or for our health because they don't care. 

but that's not the same as hate.

that's not the same as a genocidal master plan.

and it does not (always) equate to sitting down each day to decide how to specifically kill, maim or destroy [insert just about anyone not male / western-euro descended / hetero here].

am i saying no one is out to get "us"? no. quite the contrary. there are a few who've made it their life's work, for reasons that would take another blog or three to lay out.

but i don't think that's the majority.

i think the majority are riding a wave of conquest and privilege they don't understand the root of.  they don't care because they don't have to; their circumstances allow them to reap the benefits, and that has the potential to make all but the most aware rather indolent.

i don't choose to lie awake thinking about folks who don't care about me, nor do i see the point in viewing my life as a never-ending battlefield.

i do choose to care more than they do.  i need to see and relate to the people they don't.  i am committed to learning, listening, doing my part in my little corner of the planet.   

it might not be much, but it's what keeps me sane.

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.

accepting your blessing

the universe conspires to give us what we want!*

*assuming: pure intention, a light heart, and alignment with our lifework and highest selves.  warning: in the absence of those qualities, the lessons that pave the way to blessing will continue.

if your lessons tend to dishearten or discourage you, look deeper.  consider what the frustrations and disappointments are teaching you.  the Yoruba say that unless your ori--the part of your consciousness connecting you to the Divine within--is open and willing, God Itself cannot bless you.

again: unless you have prepared yourself to accept and internalize blessing, it can and will roll off you like water off a duck.

if you feel you're in or approaching this space, it's a good time to breathe and be still.  write/pray it out. seek counsel, if necessary.

you deserve to have your dreams come true, and be blessed beyond measure.  knowing that, the least you can do is put out a welcome mat for all the good things waiting to show up at your door.

more ways to welcome the energy of blessing:

• stand in gratitude for what you have.
• observe. {this requires a certain stillness.}
• clear your space--mental, physical, emotional, spiritual--as needed and necessary.
• listen. listen. listen. make time for meditation, not just prayer.
• be aware, but don't worry.
• be prudent, but not fearful.

may all that stands in the way of your success be removed. may you be filled with the knowing that Divine Love and Support exist for you. may you rush in the direction of that which will bless you. asé.

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.

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.

married to myself*

today i read this from brotha kefentse on facebook:

African people don't play the dating game. We marry with the foundation of spirit and responsibility. We procreate with the idea of generational progress and nation building. We love with the actions of nurturing & protection. Either you are in it to win, or you are playing games with not only your "girlfriend" but yourself as well.

a powerful statement, and a worthy ideal.    

for most of my teens (yes, teens) and twenties, i was a serial monogamist. not so much because i was encouraged to be...that's just the way life went. in my mid-twenties, i entered a relationship that lasted for most of the next six years. one i thought would lead to marriage, kids, the whole deal.

obviously, it didn't.

as i approach my mid-thirties, i wonder almost daily if i'll marry at all.

it's not a desperate wondering. i am not lonely, nor do i feel unloved. i've enjoyed the experiences i've had since my relationship ended. but there are times when i consider the positive aspects of our situation--our common ideas, the way we dreamt about building some kind of community center or gathering place where youth and elders could come to learn and teach--and wonder if i'll share those kinds of visions with another.

since then, i have come to relearn the sort of effortless, nurturing, protective love that he often was unable to provide. but i am also far less interested in bearing children.

when i think about kefentse's statement, i also consider that the major issue i've come across has not been a lack of love/loving or even commitment, but an inability to see, name, and heal the traumas that keep us from sustaining whole, nurturing relationships with one another.  

to my knowledge, my ex's fidelity was never in question. he constantly and consistently told me he wanted a life with me, that he loved and cherished me. but there were some key elements missing in making that a reality--much of which had to do with an unexamined, unhealed past.  these are the things that are hamstringing quite a few "good brothas" out here.

it took me quite some time to see and learn the patterns he exhibited and to understand what was happening. and it took a little longer to realize that that was not the kind of foundational work i wanted to do in order for our love to live. he was not ready. i had to go.

now, i've reclaimed my dreams. i'm putting things back together, slowly, but deliberately. i am measuring my steps.

i have also learned that love will always, inevitably, find me.  but it remains to be seen whether or not i will have the kind of partnership kefentse talks about.  gaining it would require a level of focus and attention that, frankly, i'm putting into myself, my destiny, and my evolution--and, for me, that feels right.

if there is someone meant to fit into that picture, whose energies align with my own, so be it.  


*for now, anyway.

kevin powell's open letter to chris brown

yes, it's long.

but it's on point.

i'm only about 1/3 through it, but knew i had to share.

i've known so many men who could have written this...some are still in the process of writing it.

either way, it's worth a look.

thank you, kevin, for saying what so many brothas need to hear. even if chris doesn't take it to heart, someone will.