BlackLove is Beautiville

Gotta tell this one straight. I want to go into a romantic diatribe about what I thought, what I did, and what I learned, but it's not that kind of thing. This is more about acceptance and obedience, submission and surrender. This is about looking at what is in front of you and seeing it and yourself for what and where you are, then allowing life to pull you out off the mess you created. 

Many of us walk around with deluded visions of who we are and what we are doing. As I think about how I am typing, I wonder how many eyes I won't capture based on the things I am about to admit. But, press on I must, as I am charged in my heart and soul to tell my truth and liberate those around me to look within and determine their own. For the past year it seemed as though I was walking through fog. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me or why. I just knew my soul was struggling and I was on edge-suspicious and somewhat defeated.  Initially I thought it was money, then I thought it was love, then I thought it was the lack of spiritual fulfillment I was experiencing. It wasn't any of these things. This I know because I was given opportunities to increase my money-which I did, men began to fall from the ceiling, and grace had given me somewhat of a Midas touch, nothing I did wasn't a success. Still, I felt awful. Why?

I was not being honest about who I was, or where I was. As it stands, I am a black woman. Single female head-of-household, 3 kids with 3 different baby daddies and not making a six figure salary. I love to laugh. I love to eat. I love to watch television and I love to talk, read and write. The writing is difficult because it forces me to be still and internal, honest and free. I have to touch those parts that no one sees and that is when the emptiness creeps up on me and I have to acknowledge, "the Pain of Night." I love being pretty and I love that I still fit a size 8 without difficulty and have to get my pants taken in. I carried a lot of guilt about being pretty, because of the attention I received. I didn't see myself as different from my friends or associates but other people did. It embarrassed me. If I was so pretty, so smart, so desirable and sexy, why did I crawl into bed- a tall bed with pillow-top mattress- alone (unless my daughter was home) every night? 

I raced through my memory, sometimes rifling others pausing, a la Octavia Butler Patternmasteresque, and saw. I'd had many, many admirers, and many, many suitors. Most of them good men, most of them ambitious and successful. More of them able to provide me or at a minimum assist me with having an "improved" quality of life. For one reason or another, I had rejected them. My rejections came from a variety of places and reasons but they all boiled down to one thing, ultimately; I didn't feel or, at some point, stopped feeling safe. Rather than be with someone who helped me feel awkward in my own skin, I preferred to suffer. That is the kind of person I've always been, willing to suffer the consequences of my convictions. I'd heard Bro. Minister Rasoul Muhammad-an "illegitimate son" of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad-say that we should not become a "prisoner of our convictions" and thereafter tried to live a structured, though not rigid life, but I found that each of us has basic components of both conscience and personality. For me, "if it ain't right, I ain't rockin'."  And I'd finally learned to trust my IWS (internal warning system), it was never wrong the way a GPS could be. There were things, some people call them red flags, others call them warnings but for me, they were like little nudges where I could almost see my spirits and ancestors arching their eyebrows, sometimes even hearing voices say, "No Baby, you can't live here. Just watch and wait." Inevitably, something would be revealed, and in a Big way. Once I thought back and realized I was not willing to be caged, or to simply be a trophy, nights were easier to endure. I got comfortable being the Champion and Guardian of my Soul, Keeper of my Spirit. And while it may sound romantic, I understood that the sacrifice and trade-off would leave me extremely wanting.  My Creator has promised that I would be denied no good and righteous desire of my heart. This being the case, I wrote across my mind, the gateway to the heart, the words I read from Zora Neale Hurston, "just as I am, I am a Precious Gift."

Word, Son?

This morning I sit at the keyboard, recommitted to accomplishing only a few things; one of them being this blog and a few other projects I just let kind of fritter away into... 

Yesterday, I sat in my office, listening to Erykah Badu's "Next Lifetime", thinking about the latest thing to come along and take my mind off of the everpassing days that move without me writing to a larger group than myself, that move with me wondering if I will fuflfill the prophecies of people who say I have simply and foolishly wasted my life.  In the wasting, I looked at the sister and wondered, "Do some people just have good luck, destined for goodness?"  While watching, I had to chuckle a little because I know Erykah doesn't necessarily have it that easy. What caught me moreso was her ability to be herself in spite of what everyone or anyone else's opinion about how she lives her life." She defines herself. This I admired, and missed, remembering a time when I too would wield that power which is indeed sacrosanct.  In this introverted retreat turned exile, I have somewhat allowed my soul to rot, in the wasting, I have wrung my hands and said, "I don't know how to do this."  I do realize that THAT is precisely the fear of all great beings who have been told there is a task for them to accomplish.  Revelation is Relative to Growth. Manifestation is Relative to Grace and Self-Effort.  During my malaise or reverie, I began to share some concerns with a co-worker. Upon disclosure of a certain set of peculiarities she said, "That isn't you. Don't own that!" I looked at her, stunned, her manner wasn't one to be quite so directive. She looked at me and said, "That's what you would say to me, you would say,"Why accept that? It's such an ugly thing." I was speechless. Her words touched me on a deep heart-gut level.  She was right.

I would never allow anyone to hold on to such ugly words about themselves. My next question was, "So why would I hold something so ugly about myself, and then allow myself to believe it?" Incredible.  This made me realize and accept on some levels there was a fundamental belief that had not been changed.  It didn't matter that I had gone to umpteen spiritual workshops, been initiated into x amount of systems or even proven more often than I can remember that I was not only capable, but in many ways superior to more than my own expectations. If I am a Woman who believes in the Righteousness of the Creator and the infinite perfection of Her Creation, why would I have so little faith in my ability to carry out the mandates He/She has Destined for me? This wonder was later confirmed by a visit to my Godfather. I adore him and I adore my Godmother. They are incredible examples of Faith, Devotion to a higher purpose and "Doing What You Love", no matter the cost.  Both of these people have overcome tremendous trials and testaments of faith. I sit at their feet, learning, growing, getting angry and overcoming my own fears and self-imposed limitations. Spirit is Amazing, Doubt & Fear are Crippling. In trying to re-calibrate my understanding, and swag (yes, I unashamedly speak 'hood,)  I realized the awesome power of the mind, and the power of perception.  I also realized that the best way to overcome Fear & Panic are to develop Right Understanding. My struggle with Spirituality, Religion and Dogma have all revolved around interpretation and obedience.  

Often, I have received readings that made me question who I am.  In the explanation of these readings, I was not given an accurate accounting of who I had been or why I had made certain decisions and how I needed to reform or what I needed to continue. Perhaps it had to do with people not wanting to hurt my feelings, by seeing my innate sensitivity and fear of judgment or maybe it was just about getting money until the tree dried up. Whatever it was, I was much too willing to give my power over without processing the information through my own sensibility. As I have grown, and as I have become able to become less afraid of the voices that wake me and the pictures that flood my mind, I have learned to ask questions rather than get angry and stomp away, locking myself into my mind and life. This, I realized was a pattern I repeated often and as a result, I had allowed opportunities to learn, to love, to make money disappear.  "I will restore to you the years the locusts have eaten" comes to mind as I think of the slight detour I took. This is not a "pie in the sky", "hope springs eternal" declaration, but a re-commitment to my destiny being made better through the power of deliberate decision making and discernment.  My lesson of the day: don't be gullible, you can't believe everything you hear. Trust your Feelings, even when they don't seem to make sense.  Learn to differentiate between paranoia and the slight discomfort that guides you from Spirit. 

absolutely incredible

Today I decided to look at this blog. I haven't posted in over a year and I should be ashamed of myself.  Apologies to me, apologies to my readers, apologies to the work I know is my task to complete by Divine Right.  In prayer and supplication I raise my hands and say, "How do we eat the elephant?" To this question, there is only one right response, "Bit by bit."

In the words of Florence Scovel Shinn, "I call on the law of forgiveness. What did not happen in the kingdom of my heavenly father, NEVER happened. I am made perfect, in the image and likeness of The Most High."