It isn't easy being an advocate of love. Particularly not when the definition is wide, varied and ambiguous. What may be a high demonstration of love on one level, can simply be seen as a mean act on another. It is all about perspective. And you what they say about perspectives...it sounds kinda like the one about opinions...anyway, the point I am making is there are two things that people have to deal with, regardless of perspective. Those things are, white flags and hot potatoes.
White Flags
We know white flags are the symbols of surrender. Surrender meaning, "I'm tired of fighting. I cannot take the whipping that is being put on me. I concede, you...win," or "YOU win" or "you WIN!" However it is said, wherever the syllable is stressed, the point is the same, "I give up." 2008 taught me a lot about white flags. What I'm learning about letting someone else win is to simply ask two questions. One question is, "How does this benefit my life?", the other is, "As a result of this, is my life easier, or happier?" Simple enough, right? Ahh, but as in all good dramas, there be a point of reference. In this case the non-sequitur here is...in the long run. Do we often make decisions in terms of their long-term consequences, whether they be positive or negative? I don't think so. Most of the time, we make decisions based on the moment, or short-term pleasures, or gains. This can be fine if indeed that is where one's bliss lies. For me, that plan doesn't work. I found myself hysterically waving a white flag in the one area that has and continues to elude me...love relationships.
Sure. We've heard the stories, the heartbreaks, the triumphs and tragedies. We have even heard the advice of the wise ones, "Beloved, if you want love, you must first become love." I hear that. I have even taken a sentence from Iyanla Van Zant and her definition of compassion, a most necessary component of love, "Compassion means healing others without making yourself sick." That, I loved. You love it too, right? Most often, we think if you are to be loving, that means you become a doormat for the World. No. It doesn't mean that. It means that you look beyond yourself and your possibly petty desires and motives, and you move in the interest of the Greater Good, or the Best Possible Outcome. For me, Love is an interesting mix of personality, objectives, responsibility and united opportunity. One thing for me that makes my lovequests incredibly interesting is my inability to be anyone but myself, AND my inability to sell myself dreams for long. This last I acquired from the women who shaped me. Often, as a new mother and an older girl, I said, "Everyone else has loving parents who support and adore them. Me? I only have 3 Mean Ladies. These Mean Ladies always gave me the harshest admonishments and criticisms:
Mean Lady 1: Daughter, don't be a fool all your life.
Mean Lady 2: I ain't young lak you is, but mens got suga on dey tongue.
Mean Lady 3: Phooey!
And there you had it. The "Straight no Chaser" approach to love and life situations, kept me wrapt and often bereft because I so thoroughly believed in LoveStories and Happily Ever Afters. I thought they just were cynical, and certainly skeptics because their own lives hadn't panned out. I made the mistake most "young" people make. Thinking that older folk were trying to hate on my parade. I didn't know they were giving me the keys to the treasure chest, opening it and saying, "Take what you want out of it. Just know that you always leave more IN than you take out. If you choose to share, that is fine, but if it doesn't come back, you won't be bankrupt." Fortunately, I had the Old-Southern-Black People-Who-Want-Something kind of work ethic, mixed with the, "Oh yeah? You think I can't make it happen? Watch," mentality. This created rainbows after rainfalls, and made it so that I was able to accomplish a whole helluva lot. Love? I know how to do it, I know its rewards, I know its sacrifices and lamentations. Immature Love? That taught me something else...how to play Hot Potato and WIN.
Hot Potato
You know it. The game often played at birthday parties. An object was passed around (when I was a very little girl, mothers actually heated up a potato-yeah, in a pot, on the stove), music was played and its passed around until the music stops. If the music stopped and you were the person holding the object, you had to get OUT. Once you got out, the game continued until there were only two people left. The person left standing, sometimes sitting, won. This, being the last person was not an easy thing to accomplish. But you stood a better chance if you had two things:
1. the ability to hear changes in the music, and 2. good hand-eye coordination. Love Going Bad, in my experience, is not that different.
I see him. He sees me. He finds me attractive (of course,) and I am not quite repulsed by him. We talk, we visit-date, whichever works at the time and decide to have a relationship. Time is moving, persons are revealed, and then...the game begins.
Version One
"Hey. I called you yesterday. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
"When? I must not have heard it."
Pause.
"Oh, he thinks I'm lying," I think to myself. Why is that the first thought? Does he know that most of the time, I don't even know where the phone is? I'm still trying to figure out how to connect conference calls on this thing.
"Ai-ight. Lemme call you back."
"Alright. I'll speak to you later, Baby." We hang up and I say to myself, "Ok, we'll see how this plays out." Now, from here two things are generally what happen. He takes it on the chin and we keep it moving, or he gets incredibly annoyed that I'm not sweating him and he falls back.
Version Two
"Hey. I called you yesterday. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
"I don't really like talking on the phone."
"Oh. I can understand that. It breaks up the rhythm of your day, right? I can dig it.
What did we all do before the advent of cell phones." >chuckle<
"Yeah. Umm, lemme call you back."
"Alright Baby, later." We hang up and I say to myself, "Ok, this is getting suspicious. He hasn't been not taking my calls. I've been here before." Now, from here two things generally happen. We develop a more casual relationship or I stop calling to see if he falls back.
Please note: In either of these versions, the communication never ceases entirely. When communication resumes however, the toss-off is intense.
Usually, I am the initiator of an end to the game. Most often because I know myself and in the words of Bruce Banner, "Please don't make me angry...you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." The other one? Oh, she IS a doozy. I rarely unleash her and am commited to using the highest aspects of my personality. In an effort to promote this, "higher self" I end the game before any real damage is done, especially when it becomes apparent that it has indeed become a game.
Now, as we wrap up 2008 and prepare for 2009, I give thanks for the following:
1. I officially established my company.
2. I devoted an entire year to being a stay-at-home mom to my children, cooking EVERY night, just about, and teaching them about the power of their personalities and spirits.
3. I have a very DEFINITE knowledge of who I love and loves me BACK.
4. I got my Driver's License and, the cherry on top of my 2008 sundae,
5. I reconiled with my Daddy after 8 very long years.
I don't know if this will be my last post for 2008 but I do not the unpredicatability of life and am taking every moment preciously as it arrives. Blessings!
SxLvTlk
SxLvTlk: Know Your Grey
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
How Can They
I speak to many men. Brothers, cousins, ex-lovers, some I dare call... friends and I wonder, "How is it that they are able to leave the children they create with women?" Often, these men create new lives for themselves or maintain their life but create new families. I know one man (I use the term loosely) who has 12 children. From the little time I spent with him, 3 months of conversation and 6 weeks of interaction, I didn't see where he did much to provide for them, didn't see him even taking care of himself. This last, bewildered me. I realized that in the eyes and I guess hearts of some men, women and children, do not mean much. The end result is the obtaining of their own end agendas. When I met this man, I was told his youngest child was 9 or ten months old. Upon further interaction the fact that there was an even younger child, 5 or 6 months old, was revealed. I was amazed and I was appalled. How could he leave this woman who he liked enough to have sex with-unprotected sex at that- with a child so small and not keep track of her or the child? Judgmental? I accept that. But more than anything, I realized, if he could do this to women who he had children with, and young, very young children, I did not stand a chance. I was little more than a spoke in his wheel of intention.
Damn! That hurt. Not because I feel that I am special, I've met far too many people to maintain that delusion, but because I had moved against knowledge and relied on possibility and hope. Perhaps I had finally met someone who was not perfect, but was trying to become better than who he was. That was realistic and certainly doable. I too, was working on taking my thoughts and transforming them into matter. I was inspired by this man and certainly, I believed in a lot of the things he spoke of. Well known in cultural circles and charismatic, I thought he was thorough in his follow-through. Perhaps he was, just not in his personal life. How was it that this person who believed in family, blackness, love and the power of the masses to effect positive change be unable to focus on creating stability, in his OWN world? I didn't get it. I watched, to get to the root of it, and in getting I realized, he was quite selfish, and had no real plan, just a lot of bark.
In that, I also realized that my sacrifice, the time, energy, my offering of love, my space, my flesh, had all been for naught. It didn't matter. The proof of this came when I had cooked a meal, that I solely purchased (as my bank account was dwindling), prepared and presented to my family. After eating, the plates found their way to the kitchen, all except his. He sat upon the floor playing on his laptop and said, "Um, could you come git this?" referring to the plate. In that moment I said, "Oh hell no! He has got to get the eff out of here! This is where the road ends." I thought and wondered, "Wow! How can he think that I am going to be alright with that? Does my behavior indicate that I am willing to be misused and abused? Hmm. Oh well, if it does, let me correct your perception.
My behavior does not connote what I am thinking, or feeling, and it certainly doesn't denote how I will make decisions. You are persona non-grata." If he could leave his children and not show concern for his choices best addressed by, "I ain't perfek." I don't think women are looking for perfection, we are looking for accountability, and reliability. If we, the women, the mothers, did that, we would be flayed before the cross. I know this to be true because I know women who have left their children only to be judged by not only those watching but by my own private thoughts, even though, I UNDERSTOOD WHY and have often secretly longed to do so, lacking only the courage, knowing that I would miss my children too terribly. And so, the question remains, and I would love for men to answer, you can comment anonymously, How Can They?
Damn! That hurt. Not because I feel that I am special, I've met far too many people to maintain that delusion, but because I had moved against knowledge and relied on possibility and hope. Perhaps I had finally met someone who was not perfect, but was trying to become better than who he was. That was realistic and certainly doable. I too, was working on taking my thoughts and transforming them into matter. I was inspired by this man and certainly, I believed in a lot of the things he spoke of. Well known in cultural circles and charismatic, I thought he was thorough in his follow-through. Perhaps he was, just not in his personal life. How was it that this person who believed in family, blackness, love and the power of the masses to effect positive change be unable to focus on creating stability, in his OWN world? I didn't get it. I watched, to get to the root of it, and in getting I realized, he was quite selfish, and had no real plan, just a lot of bark.
In that, I also realized that my sacrifice, the time, energy, my offering of love, my space, my flesh, had all been for naught. It didn't matter. The proof of this came when I had cooked a meal, that I solely purchased (as my bank account was dwindling), prepared and presented to my family. After eating, the plates found their way to the kitchen, all except his. He sat upon the floor playing on his laptop and said, "Um, could you come git this?" referring to the plate. In that moment I said, "Oh hell no! He has got to get the eff out of here! This is where the road ends." I thought and wondered, "Wow! How can he think that I am going to be alright with that? Does my behavior indicate that I am willing to be misused and abused? Hmm. Oh well, if it does, let me correct your perception.
My behavior does not connote what I am thinking, or feeling, and it certainly doesn't denote how I will make decisions. You are persona non-grata." If he could leave his children and not show concern for his choices best addressed by, "I ain't perfek." I don't think women are looking for perfection, we are looking for accountability, and reliability. If we, the women, the mothers, did that, we would be flayed before the cross. I know this to be true because I know women who have left their children only to be judged by not only those watching but by my own private thoughts, even though, I UNDERSTOOD WHY and have often secretly longed to do so, lacking only the courage, knowing that I would miss my children too terribly. And so, the question remains, and I would love for men to answer, you can comment anonymously, How Can They?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dubbed by Nobility
The Empress has died. It is that simple. People, particularly those in the Afro-Conscious community have chosen to say, "She chose to make her transition." No. To me, The Beautiful One, She who Saw Truth and Lived It has not made a transition. She has died. The news came to me, via text, the Monday morning after Thanksgiving. It read, "Did you hear about Empress? Call me when you can." I said, "She's dead." A phone call from my ex-husband confirmed it.
I did not drop to my knees and yell, tears did not immediately well up in my eyes, however, a wooden shelf in my soul cracked in half and dropped into my ethereal body. "How did we let this happen?" I knew her living situation was not good. I had offered her my home on more than one occasion, she declined the offers. I asked my ex-husband what the cause of death was, he said, "Aneurysm." I do not believe that. She walked around with that aneurysm for YEARS, declining to let them "go into my head" again after one brain surgery. Empress died from neglect and lack of love.
I first met her in 2004. I loved her on sight. She did not know, but I had seen this woman many years before, firstly, at the then called Brooklyn House of Detention on Atlantic Avenue where I accompanied a good friend of mine who had to get her daughter out. She was a Big Black Woman, with locks that went past her shins. She talked about her 13 husbands and how she whipped them with her locks when they got out of line. I thought to myself, "Wow! This woman is special, and not necessarily in a good way." She was impressive though, regal even. As the years passed, I would see her at events that were mainstays for the "Thinking Blacks", Tribute to the Ancestors, DanceAfrica ( BAM as we call it), African Street Festival. I found her a bit imposing to approach, but I always smiled and threw her in with the Beautiful Black People lot. Imagine my joy when she walked down the aisle at an event I was participating in and she was one of the elders blessing me on my journey!
My ex-husband and I were courting at the time. He brought me before her and simply said, "This is her." She looked at me and revealed information that I hadn't yet revealed to ANYONE. She saw, by looking at the bottom of my left foot that I was pregnant. That was October 2004. My daughter was born June 2005. She knew that TOO. She called me, the day after I walked for my Master's Degree, the day after I started clearing my office because I knew that I needed to begin my maternity leave.
"Princess Iyapiphany...what are you doing?"
I caught my breath and laughed. "Hello Empress Umi, I am in labor with this baby." She laughed.
"I knew it. I looked at the moon last night and said, 'Hmm, the baby is coming, she missed the last full moon.' Who is with you?"
"My mom is here and I have called the midwives. They said this may go on all week, and not to be concerned. My mom however, is freaking out. She told them to get their asses over here."
"No Princess. The baby is coming, she will come between 12 or 1 o'clock. You will not be in labor all week. Your mother is correct. Call the midwives back and tell them they need to come over. Where is Supa?"
I made the calls and the people necessary to welcome the much awaited Revealed Light (that is what her name means) enter this realm of existence. Empress always referred to me as Princess, she called many young women princess, but for me, it was as though she saw me. All that I was trying to do, all that I was trying to accomplish and uphold. She was big, bold, and unapologetic. If she saw little me, perhaps I needed to not worry that people were not "getting me." That is what she leaves with me most. We choose the life we live, we have the ability to live it as we desire and we better be happy with what we choose because in the end and at it, You are left to face Yourself.
I did not drop to my knees and yell, tears did not immediately well up in my eyes, however, a wooden shelf in my soul cracked in half and dropped into my ethereal body. "How did we let this happen?" I knew her living situation was not good. I had offered her my home on more than one occasion, she declined the offers. I asked my ex-husband what the cause of death was, he said, "Aneurysm." I do not believe that. She walked around with that aneurysm for YEARS, declining to let them "go into my head" again after one brain surgery. Empress died from neglect and lack of love.
I first met her in 2004. I loved her on sight. She did not know, but I had seen this woman many years before, firstly, at the then called Brooklyn House of Detention on Atlantic Avenue where I accompanied a good friend of mine who had to get her daughter out. She was a Big Black Woman, with locks that went past her shins. She talked about her 13 husbands and how she whipped them with her locks when they got out of line. I thought to myself, "Wow! This woman is special, and not necessarily in a good way." She was impressive though, regal even. As the years passed, I would see her at events that were mainstays for the "Thinking Blacks", Tribute to the Ancestors, DanceAfrica ( BAM as we call it), African Street Festival. I found her a bit imposing to approach, but I always smiled and threw her in with the Beautiful Black People lot. Imagine my joy when she walked down the aisle at an event I was participating in and she was one of the elders blessing me on my journey!
My ex-husband and I were courting at the time. He brought me before her and simply said, "This is her." She looked at me and revealed information that I hadn't yet revealed to ANYONE. She saw, by looking at the bottom of my left foot that I was pregnant. That was October 2004. My daughter was born June 2005. She knew that TOO. She called me, the day after I walked for my Master's Degree, the day after I started clearing my office because I knew that I needed to begin my maternity leave.
"Princess Iyapiphany...what are you doing?"
I caught my breath and laughed. "Hello Empress Umi, I am in labor with this baby." She laughed.
"I knew it. I looked at the moon last night and said, 'Hmm, the baby is coming, she missed the last full moon.' Who is with you?"
"My mom is here and I have called the midwives. They said this may go on all week, and not to be concerned. My mom however, is freaking out. She told them to get their asses over here."
"No Princess. The baby is coming, she will come between 12 or 1 o'clock. You will not be in labor all week. Your mother is correct. Call the midwives back and tell them they need to come over. Where is Supa?"
I made the calls and the people necessary to welcome the much awaited Revealed Light (that is what her name means) enter this realm of existence. Empress always referred to me as Princess, she called many young women princess, but for me, it was as though she saw me. All that I was trying to do, all that I was trying to accomplish and uphold. She was big, bold, and unapologetic. If she saw little me, perhaps I needed to not worry that people were not "getting me." That is what she leaves with me most. We choose the life we live, we have the ability to live it as we desire and we better be happy with what we choose because in the end and at it, You are left to face Yourself.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Hi Ms. Sherry!!!
I am quite impressed with the breadth of information I have acquired since I started on the path to both mother and woman hood. I have had the wonderful opportunity to:
work my way through school (earning two degrees), have three children, and be self-supporting through all of it. That by no means says that I have accomplished all of this on my own. I had a small, but incredibly consistent team of women who knew it was part of my "real life training" to go through heartaches, disappointments, false starts and plan collapses. What amazes me is how every experience sets the stage for something else that happens in the future.
I went to a Parent Conference, sponsored by the UFT today. I walked right into a childhood friend, parents whose children attended my after-school programs, after-school professionals who took trainings I facilitated or managed and professional mentors and colleagues. It was truly breath-taking for me. I have been struggling with a definition of myself and what I do, how to take all of the skills I have developed and present them in a comprehensive way that makes sense and in which the connections are clearly visible. The only way I have found to do this which is both effective and honest is to label myself, The BlackLove Advocate. Really. This may be for a few reasons.
One of the reasons being that I was not raised in a black neighborhood. I had to actively seek out Black people to identify with them. Culturally, my influences were predominantly Latino and white. I grew up with an incredible mix of "friends" as I understood them, but I rarely felt as though I had an automatic affiliation with any group. I loved the difference and richness of various cultures and always sought to understand or experience a "taste" of a world outside of my own. This passion was only ignited by the many books I devoured. The racial diversity of my classes and teachers did little to herd me into the racially isolated groups teens tend to gravitate toward in high school. I truly felt the "melting pot" aspect of culture rather than the "mixing bowl" reality I eventually chose to submit to.
I always identified ethnically as Black, but when I was around Black people I never quite fit in. This perhaps, may be the reason I delved so deeply into African and Black American history as well as engulfing myself in the throes of Hip-Hop culture. It is true that everyone needs a peer group, particularly during those rough adolescent years. I thought that these needs were being filled by my extended family, however, my personality was a bit too bland for the likes of my kinfolk. What then would someone like myself do? You run from group to cause to association to experience to religion to art to institution in hopes of finding the place and identity that "fits". The result? An unintented consequence of never walking into a room, conference, or neighborhood and not knowing at least 3 people!!!!
work my way through school (earning two degrees), have three children, and be self-supporting through all of it. That by no means says that I have accomplished all of this on my own. I had a small, but incredibly consistent team of women who knew it was part of my "real life training" to go through heartaches, disappointments, false starts and plan collapses. What amazes me is how every experience sets the stage for something else that happens in the future.
I went to a Parent Conference, sponsored by the UFT today. I walked right into a childhood friend, parents whose children attended my after-school programs, after-school professionals who took trainings I facilitated or managed and professional mentors and colleagues. It was truly breath-taking for me. I have been struggling with a definition of myself and what I do, how to take all of the skills I have developed and present them in a comprehensive way that makes sense and in which the connections are clearly visible. The only way I have found to do this which is both effective and honest is to label myself, The BlackLove Advocate. Really. This may be for a few reasons.
One of the reasons being that I was not raised in a black neighborhood. I had to actively seek out Black people to identify with them. Culturally, my influences were predominantly Latino and white. I grew up with an incredible mix of "friends" as I understood them, but I rarely felt as though I had an automatic affiliation with any group. I loved the difference and richness of various cultures and always sought to understand or experience a "taste" of a world outside of my own. This passion was only ignited by the many books I devoured. The racial diversity of my classes and teachers did little to herd me into the racially isolated groups teens tend to gravitate toward in high school. I truly felt the "melting pot" aspect of culture rather than the "mixing bowl" reality I eventually chose to submit to.
I always identified ethnically as Black, but when I was around Black people I never quite fit in. This perhaps, may be the reason I delved so deeply into African and Black American history as well as engulfing myself in the throes of Hip-Hop culture. It is true that everyone needs a peer group, particularly during those rough adolescent years. I thought that these needs were being filled by my extended family, however, my personality was a bit too bland for the likes of my kinfolk. What then would someone like myself do? You run from group to cause to association to experience to religion to art to institution in hopes of finding the place and identity that "fits". The result? An unintented consequence of never walking into a room, conference, or neighborhood and not knowing at least 3 people!!!!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Security over Passion?
There is always a slight regret that he does not inspire passion
I think about the things that are important trust respect values
longevity productivity self-awareness a Deep Desire and Need to
respect and understand the Animating force of the Universe and
I simply
do not understand how he comes to many of his conclusions
worldviews and politics Much more comfortable sitting down
discussing dead Greek philosophers than relating to the children
and challenges before us right now How Can That Be Possible
If I don't trust you have a stake in the future I cannot trust you with my heart
or flesh
I live for the promise that what I do today will strongly and positively
impact the world I create and leave for my children and descendants
Tomorrow I Really Believe That
if I let
The honey amber brown eyed Colombian man into my soul Allow him
to know the girl that washes white rice loves to make platanos y sopa
de espinaca and adores a properly made pollo guisado I will be able to
relax and release all the pent up frustration in my body and mind
If I let the
Cream colored flesh lay atop my dulce de leche we will develop a rhythm
only we can dance to heavy breathing the bassline moans the up beat
him serving as cantante as he courts my passion Muneca que quieres
Mi Amor Se que tu eres una buena mujer Estoy aqui Claro que si soy
tuyo I fall passive in his melody provide the adlibs
I have to laugh Feeling like my face will crack because it is unfamiliar with the
reality of a dream made real Used to seeing something else So clear he
likes me to be beside him So clear he wants my love So clear he doesn't want
to make promises that will have to be broken
Is it clear to him that
He is the one I think about
when the world becomes disrespectful of my work talent and midastouching
the man
I want to grieve with
as we replace the elders we revere
the man
that is able to help me not be a nervous wreck when it comes
to giving my children the space children need to become
individuals who are competent enough to live in the world and
not have to come home because they can make it
I wonder
if he sees and understands that I am certain
God would not ever break our hearts if it wasn't to build our
resistance to unworthy lovechoices based on what we want
to see/feel/be seen as rather than what will build our souls
and ability to be the Lights and Guides He designed us to be for the
invisible forgotten miscounted and undereducated/prepared who will one
day inherit this earth and work Those who help us focus and maintain
our own character and righteousness are those we should pull closer
and not push away There is nothing wrong loving and NOT
suffering in that Love There is nothing wrong with loving
There is nothing wrong with love I just wonder
is he
Clear
I found myself writing this to my special friend. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the funny thing to me is the fact that we have both be thoroughly hurt in the past and have decided to take things slow, painfully slowly it seems for BOTH of us. We thought it would be fun to hang out and talk, perhaps catch a flick and every now and then blow off some steam. It seems however, that the lovegods decided they needed a laugh. We started to speak then found out that we have a lot, a lot in common. Scary. What of this other, in the beginning of the poem? Well, he is actually someone that I adore and whose company I enjoy. He is the man the kids would call "uncle", I would damn near list him as the emergency contact person on the blue cards (people in NYC know what I'm talking about). My thoughts to myself are, "If you trust him so completely with your children, why don't you trust him with your heart and life?" But ladies (and gentle men), really, haven't you ever been with someone who you know is a great choice, intellectually, but your "heart" just didn't pitter-patter for them? That has been my dilemma with this particular person...for years.
My mother says, "Daughter, you're getting older. Marry that man then have a lover." He nearly suggested the same thing. "Piph, I support you. Whatever you need to feel like yourself is fine with me. I'll always be here, I know you have needs that I may not be able to fulfill." Really? I found this strange and a bit unsettling. I told him, "I think you would be a great husband, but I would be a terrible wife." My elderbrother says, "You are well within your right to not desire a good man. Men refuse good women all of the time. Do Not get into a relationship with someone you do not feel passion for. It isn't good for you and eventually will cause problems for them." My girlfriends found this to be a no brainer, somewhat combining the two previous answers, "Be with him until something better comes along." THAT RESPONSE amazed me because these are the same women who I've spent hours with explaining how the "heartbreaker" just did that...to them! The conversations have gone something like this:
"But why did he marry her?"
"He wanted to"
"But I helped him through school and co-signed for a car for him."
"He wants a life with her."
"Yeah, but he told me that we were great for each other."
"Well, apparently that was for that moment, et al." How could they be the ones to suggest such a thing? Incredible, and yes, sad but true. My question today:
How important is passion when considering a long-term "love project"
(a la Rupert P. Marshall, in the best movie about Urban BlackLove, Claudine)?
I think about the things that are important trust respect values
longevity productivity self-awareness a Deep Desire and Need to
respect and understand the Animating force of the Universe and
I simply
do not understand how he comes to many of his conclusions
worldviews and politics Much more comfortable sitting down
discussing dead Greek philosophers than relating to the children
and challenges before us right now How Can That Be Possible
If I don't trust you have a stake in the future I cannot trust you with my heart
or flesh
I live for the promise that what I do today will strongly and positively
impact the world I create and leave for my children and descendants
Tomorrow I Really Believe That
if I let
The honey amber brown eyed Colombian man into my soul Allow him
to know the girl that washes white rice loves to make platanos y sopa
de espinaca and adores a properly made pollo guisado I will be able to
relax and release all the pent up frustration in my body and mind
If I let the
Cream colored flesh lay atop my dulce de leche we will develop a rhythm
only we can dance to heavy breathing the bassline moans the up beat
him serving as cantante as he courts my passion Muneca que quieres
Mi Amor Se que tu eres una buena mujer Estoy aqui Claro que si soy
tuyo I fall passive in his melody provide the adlibs
I have to laugh Feeling like my face will crack because it is unfamiliar with the
reality of a dream made real Used to seeing something else So clear he
likes me to be beside him So clear he wants my love So clear he doesn't want
to make promises that will have to be broken
Is it clear to him that
He is the one I think about
when the world becomes disrespectful of my work talent and midastouching
the man
I want to grieve with
as we replace the elders we revere
the man
that is able to help me not be a nervous wreck when it comes
to giving my children the space children need to become
individuals who are competent enough to live in the world and
not have to come home because they can make it
I wonder
if he sees and understands that I am certain
God would not ever break our hearts if it wasn't to build our
resistance to unworthy lovechoices based on what we want
to see/feel/be seen as rather than what will build our souls
and ability to be the Lights and Guides He designed us to be for the
invisible forgotten miscounted and undereducated/prepared who will one
day inherit this earth and work Those who help us focus and maintain
our own character and righteousness are those we should pull closer
and not push away There is nothing wrong loving and NOT
suffering in that Love There is nothing wrong with loving
There is nothing wrong with love I just wonder
is he
Clear
I found myself writing this to my special friend. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the funny thing to me is the fact that we have both be thoroughly hurt in the past and have decided to take things slow, painfully slowly it seems for BOTH of us. We thought it would be fun to hang out and talk, perhaps catch a flick and every now and then blow off some steam. It seems however, that the lovegods decided they needed a laugh. We started to speak then found out that we have a lot, a lot in common. Scary. What of this other, in the beginning of the poem? Well, he is actually someone that I adore and whose company I enjoy. He is the man the kids would call "uncle", I would damn near list him as the emergency contact person on the blue cards (people in NYC know what I'm talking about). My thoughts to myself are, "If you trust him so completely with your children, why don't you trust him with your heart and life?" But ladies (and gentle men), really, haven't you ever been with someone who you know is a great choice, intellectually, but your "heart" just didn't pitter-patter for them? That has been my dilemma with this particular person...for years.
My mother says, "Daughter, you're getting older. Marry that man then have a lover." He nearly suggested the same thing. "Piph, I support you. Whatever you need to feel like yourself is fine with me. I'll always be here, I know you have needs that I may not be able to fulfill." Really? I found this strange and a bit unsettling. I told him, "I think you would be a great husband, but I would be a terrible wife." My elderbrother says, "You are well within your right to not desire a good man. Men refuse good women all of the time. Do Not get into a relationship with someone you do not feel passion for. It isn't good for you and eventually will cause problems for them." My girlfriends found this to be a no brainer, somewhat combining the two previous answers, "Be with him until something better comes along." THAT RESPONSE amazed me because these are the same women who I've spent hours with explaining how the "heartbreaker" just did that...to them! The conversations have gone something like this:
"But why did he marry her?"
"He wanted to"
"But I helped him through school and co-signed for a car for him."
"He wants a life with her."
"Yeah, but he told me that we were great for each other."
"Well, apparently that was for that moment, et al." How could they be the ones to suggest such a thing? Incredible, and yes, sad but true. My question today:
How important is passion when considering a long-term "love project"
(a la Rupert P. Marshall, in the best movie about Urban BlackLove, Claudine)?
BlackLove Defined
What is BlackLove?
To me, it is actually very simple. BlackLove awakens the mind and opens the heart. For real. It makes you feel alive, protected, secure, capable. At least it does if it's good. BlackLove also makes you feel as though you have a responsibility to ride through storms, move forward in spite of crosses burning on a lawn, ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being the "only" in a room because there is something larger at stake. BlackLove, in its rawest form, allows the heart to breathe, be supported by the mind, and propelled forward by the body. BlackLove is amazing. I also find that BlackLove is incredibly disrespected, abused, misused and saddest of all, misunderstood. My working definition of BlackLove is akin to Don Spears definition of Goodp***y. For those unfamiliar with the book Goodp***y, here is my working definition of BlackLove:
BlackLove (yes,onewordsimplybecauseIamunabletoseparateonefromtheother)
is a force of nature that allows one to believe that:
moments do trump outcomes,
their dreams are their personal roadmaps to fulfillment,
desire, passion, perfection and the ability to worship
Creation through flesh is absolutely the purpose of good,
hot sex, and
Rainbows that span vanilla to onyx are indeed the
prettiest and most natural in the diaspora of
humanity.
This blog will chronicle my experiences, my heartaches, triumphs, trials, questions, passions and journey to find my own manifestion of BlackLove in reality. This blog is intended to be interactive so I am hoping that you will comment and share some of your own experiences. I am also testing a theory, Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein, said, "Do not be afraid to share your hopes and fears with the world, because we all have the same hopes and fears." Personally, I am tired of hearing people, men in particular say to me, "Yeah, but Piph, you are not the average chick. You can't count yourself in that." I thoroughly disagree. I know waayy too many beautiful, black women who are lonely and spending incredible amounts of money for temporary situations or distractions to ease the fact that yes, they will be facing another night during which the other side of the bed will be empty.
Marriage? Impossible for black women? Nope. I do think however, women have to change in order for men to change.
Polygymy/Polygyny? Whatever. I don't care if there are 7 available women to every 1 available man. I know what I'm not going for, I know what I don't want.
Good for the Gander, Good for the Goose? Maybe. Just as long as that is what the Goose really, really wants to do.
This is the place where we will explore those types of things, hopefully, extensively. Why? Because, all this good Brown Sugar is tooo dammnn good to waste and we all know, Sugar turns Black when you Burn it. WELCOME AND ENJOY!!!! (or maybe just rant....weep...lament...roll on the floor, pulling out your hair...whatever.)
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