There were many moments when I asked myself, "Why not be with that man? He really cares about you." More often than not, I knew that the relationship I had with him revolved around a meeting of the minds moreso than any kind of ardor. I am the first to admit that in my vast mental world, I am well and easily understood. It seems however, that this is not the case. I've always thought of myself as "one of the guys". I am starting to believe that I am the only one who sees me as such. (I promise you, "How the Hawk Learned of Men's Treachery" should be required reading.) As always, when I am in the middle of a transformation and stand at the crossroads, something happens that tilts the balance. This time, my heart leaned in a direction that didn't necessarily surprise me, but made me understand what it was that I truly desired.
My little niece Trevilyn has made my life a beautiful paradise. She is the sum total of her mother's desire and her father's devotion to his family. I have longed for something similar, or so I thought. I learned that this was not necessarily what I wanted when the offer for the very same thing was placed at my feet, just about on bended knee. I looked at everything, wrapped in a big bow and said, "No, thank you." This was not because there was anything wrong with the person offering. It was just because I knew that something was missing. When I held my niece, I knew that I had made the correct choice.
"A blessing of the Lord maketh thee rich and there is no sorrow in it." This line has always been one of the Scripture Tidbits kept close to my heart. It means that if something is truly good, and truly meant for you as a part of your highest Manifestion of the Creator in you, it will add, not take away from your life. For me, playing around was almost a given. Playing around? No, not like that, but playing around understanding that I was moving in directions that were not necessarily conducive to my growth. Being with people to simply pass time, fill voids of lonliness, grasping at straws, semi-frustrated wondering, "Is this all that love/life/the journey has to offer?" In my soul, often, I thought of that scripture and it gave me the encouragement and conviction necessary to cut off unfruitful associations and when I could not cut them off, it gave me what I needed so that I would not grieve unnecessarily long. Hurt and bruised, but not broken, and if broken, not to the degree that the rend could not be mended. I am thankful that I paid attention in Sunday School. Then, something truly amazing happened. I surrendered.
I know that I've spoken of surrender in prior posts, but there is a complete and utter release that takes place that doesn't revolve around acquiesence, fear or frustration. This type of surrender is the one that allows true change to take place. When we come to a place where we can simply say, "No. I'm not doing that because it doesn't feel right" but can walk about with a sense of completion and happiness, anyway, THAT is when the "Love and Light of Grace" can truly descend upon us. This openness, widens the road for transformation. How do we know that we have truly changed/surrendered? Something happens to test/rock your conviction and life stands as witness to your response.
That man, who had served as my "go-to guy" for important things- bemoaning a lost love, accompanying me and the children to a mandatory outing, helping to pay the occasional bill was always very clear about my placement in my growth & grieving. I had never promised him an eternity, but I did make it wonderfully clear that he was a member of my inner circle. With that, perhaps he stayed around thinking that I would recognize his greatness, support and glory and was willing to "wait in the wings" until I came to my good senses. That day, I knew probably was not going to come. Why? For me, sensibility and sensuality were not mutually exclusive.
We had a run-in recently wherein I felt particularly betrayed, but I'm thinking that he must have felt that same sense of betrayal every time we had spent a wonderful two or three days together from sun-up to sun-down, full of laughter, and companionship only to hear me talk about "some other dude" I was diggin' on. Perspective and placement have often been challenges for me. My operating mode being, "If I'm honest about my intentions I don't have to be concerned with his. That's his issue." But it is, if I am looking out of the all-seeing eye, a bit lop-sided. Knowing that the desire is not one of friendship alone, and moreso one of investment and awaiting a return, I do/did have an obligation not to foster that environment-cultivating soil for seeds that would never be planted. I spoke of treachery but no betrayal is that sudden.
Sometimes feigned ignorance sharpens the blade we find placed in our backs. Be mindful and make moves that you can stand behind, make moves for which you are prepared to accept the consequences for whether they be positive or challenging. Blessings.
SxLvTlk
SxLvTlk: Know Your Grey
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Martin, Christopher, Barack
January. A month of great men. Certainly, there is the birthday of the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr, the release of Notorious, a glimpse into the person of Christopher Wallace, and the Inauguration of Barack Obama-44th President of the Untied States of America. Say what you will, but these three men have made significant contributions to American culture and to the way Black people are viewed by other cultures. What is interesting to me, in the intergenerational impact.
We can look at these three and say, "Wow! There is a figure that speaks to a specific point in time in the history of Black American culture." Martin for the elders, Biggie for the adults, and Barack for the children who will inevitably take the sacrifices forgranted. In a way it's great because they will not suffer the mental and psychological anguish of "it'll never happen because of...". In a way it will be awful if we do not instill in them that these strides were not easily attained but were the result of hard fought battles and incessant crashing against boulders until they became mere stone and pebble. This, I often think has been the failure of those who propsered as a result of the Civil Rights Movement, Black Power Movements. In an effort to spare their children the hardship and pain, they didn't discuss the struggles and created a world where their children were isolated in worlds of privilege and prestige. With this came the creation and birth of Biggie.
There really was no reason for Biggie to exist. Not in the wake of civil rights and the black power movement, however, he did and that was due to no one really wanting to address the disparities still existent in the worlds of haves and have-nots. Nope. The lower rungs on the climb to success and equality were quite nicely under/over looked until it seemed that the women, black and white were choosing these kinds of men to love and submit to. I like to think that it is due to the roughness these men still possess. That warrior energy that unfortunately was used for the wrong purposes, however, the redemptive qualities of both music and success demonstrated to Mr. Wallace that life is to be lived and enjoyed. For me, this last was really an intense point of reflection. As a recipient of the benefits awarded by the civil rights and black power movements, a female counter-part of the "endangered black male" and proud mother and educator, I give thanks at the privilege of being so thoroughly allowed to witness these mens existence, but moreso, to understand and acknowledge that history is made constantly.
We just never seem to understand that our actions are constantly making and shaping it.
We can look at these three and say, "Wow! There is a figure that speaks to a specific point in time in the history of Black American culture." Martin for the elders, Biggie for the adults, and Barack for the children who will inevitably take the sacrifices forgranted. In a way it's great because they will not suffer the mental and psychological anguish of "it'll never happen because of...". In a way it will be awful if we do not instill in them that these strides were not easily attained but were the result of hard fought battles and incessant crashing against boulders until they became mere stone and pebble. This, I often think has been the failure of those who propsered as a result of the Civil Rights Movement, Black Power Movements. In an effort to spare their children the hardship and pain, they didn't discuss the struggles and created a world where their children were isolated in worlds of privilege and prestige. With this came the creation and birth of Biggie.
There really was no reason for Biggie to exist. Not in the wake of civil rights and the black power movement, however, he did and that was due to no one really wanting to address the disparities still existent in the worlds of haves and have-nots. Nope. The lower rungs on the climb to success and equality were quite nicely under/over looked until it seemed that the women, black and white were choosing these kinds of men to love and submit to. I like to think that it is due to the roughness these men still possess. That warrior energy that unfortunately was used for the wrong purposes, however, the redemptive qualities of both music and success demonstrated to Mr. Wallace that life is to be lived and enjoyed. For me, this last was really an intense point of reflection. As a recipient of the benefits awarded by the civil rights and black power movements, a female counter-part of the "endangered black male" and proud mother and educator, I give thanks at the privilege of being so thoroughly allowed to witness these mens existence, but moreso, to understand and acknowledge that history is made constantly.
We just never seem to understand that our actions are constantly making and shaping it.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Perception is Reality
I did it. In my attempt to be witty and cute, I sent a friend a message that was intercepted by his significant other. Completely innocent, however, it fanned flames that I'm sure more than a little bit of water was required to quench. Even upon speaking with the young woman, I could hear the agitation, frustration and suspicion thick in the air. Even after hearing him tell me pretty much to "hit the bricks" I knew things were not well in Wonderland. I hung up the phone and was amazed that I had gotten a telephone call that catapulted me back to adolescence. Initially, I was in disbelief, but then I realized a few things:
1. I've been that woman whose man had female friends- one of them even innocently called my house. I was told, "She's just someone I get nice with." I didn't believe it and low and behold, she is my son's sister's mother (yes, it is as confusing as it reads). Yes, men (and women) can have alternative agendas and yes, sometimes women do disregard the fact that a man is involved and creep with him anyway.
2. Sometimes what it looks like IS EXACTLY what it is... and
3. In the words of Randy Pausch, author of the Last Lecture, "It's unlucky, but it's not unfair."
Someone probably deserved that "scream on", unfortunately, in this wrong case, it happened to be me,
4. You take care of what matters to you.
This last may be the reason why my own love relationships have had varying degrees of success in the extreme. I'm not that woman. I don't call women, or check e-mail accounts, or pick up phones reading text messages. I think this has often made the men I've been involved with think two things: I didn't care about them, and I was doing my own "dirt."
Perception and perspective are relative to experience and understanding. Neither of which has been the case. It just isn't my style. Interestingly enough, it was this same person who taught me when you look for trouble, you will definitely find it. Never quite being socially adept, I realize my naivete in these situations in regard to protocol. More than that, I realize that technology has assisted people in their ability to have lives and relationships completely separate from what they experience in waking reality. As the BlackLove Advocate, I realize that I have to be much more sensitive and much more acute in my outreach--even in my own (no pun intended) affairs.
In any case, I've decided to be much more accountable for decisions I make and how I choose to communicate with people by asking three simple questions:
1. How can this message be perceived?
2. What is the intention of this message?
3. If it is received incorrectly, am I able to deal with the negative feedback which
may result? I am thinking this mini-checklist will prevent me from having any repeat manifestations of this instance. As you all know, that which we do not learn, we repeat. Why? Because the Universe, God, the Creator, et. al want to make sure we make choices that allow us to live the lives we were created to, without being distracted, or being distractions.
REALLY, these guys are just my friends. No, really. I mean it. See? It's in the perception.
Monday, January 5, 2009
dreams of love-- the contract
I can't help it. I'm obsessed. Kind of like Veronica in the movie, Dangerous Beauty (if you can find it, watch it!) As she was being questioned by the Inquisition she said she found herself plagued by, "the dream of love". The dream of love, what is it really? Is it that thing that we talk about, the meeting of the certain One with whom we shall share the most intimate bonds of our soul's existence? Or is it really just that moment people hope to reach when they are intertwined in a sweaty embrace, making all of that "other stuff" nonsense? I don't know, but I have always known that there is a certain something that makes us feel as though, "Yes, this is worth the effort."
I went to visit my brand spanking new niece yesterday! I call her Trevlyn (my brother is named Trevor, like Wonder Woman's love, Steve Trevor). She is the cutest! I looked at her and my sister in law(who is deliriously happy-husband, house, kids) and thought, "Wow! Maybe I should stop fighting the inside of myself and just settle down. I know really good men who want to marry me, really, really badly."
But then, I thought of my life, my dreams and desires and had to be really, really honest...I'm simply not in that place.A very large part of me is like Karaba from the movie, Kirikou and the Sorceress (get it and watch it) who said, "I will not be any man's servant"after he asks her to be his wife. Perhaps it is because I became a mom, a for real mom at a young age, and because I have attempted to move in the direction of The Real Things Adults Do and found it to be beautiful, but not as fulfilling as I needed to not regret sacrificing my blood for it. Too many women do I hear from who say things like, "I didn't know that it was going to be like this," or "God! How are we supposed to make all of this stuff happen with no help?!" Times are different, but role expectations are not. I don't know if that is good or not, I just know that that is how it is. Men, are not expected to cook, clean, maintain a home, raise children, and still go out and work for 8-12 hours a day. Women are. This is true. I have spoken to many men who are married to and involved with women who absolutely hold their own in the areas of work, bringing money into the home and being the trophy many men seem to want and the men's most common complaint is, "She ain't even have no meal ready and waiting for her man!" This is said with incredible amounts of passion, too! I always wonder, "What kind of agreement and understanding did this couple create before they began this venture?" Quite often, I think, there is no agreement. THAT, I think is often to the couple's detriment.
Me? I don't want a man out there, "slaving" for me, but I do want a person to be honest...at the onset. Clear in their intent, confident enough to present the reality of themselves, secure enough to know that an argument is not always a bad thing, and open enough to have fun-good, clean fun on the journey to Whoknowswhere. I know my main errors. They have been moving too quickly, and ignoring the tiny voice that says, "Nope. Watch that. He is NOT ready for what he claims to want." That part, is always where I say I have, "dared the devil". Not one to run, my princess has often been known to say, "NO! I know he doesn't have a job, he doesn't have an apartment of his own, and he doesn't really have a good grasp on who he is as a person but, he has a good intention and I see a lot of potential, so...I'm going to give him a chance!" You have to play to your strengths and overcome the areas that are challenging. I know my challenges.
If a man is a good speaker-yeah, he talks a good one, I am all ears. I love to communicate, I love to talk, I love to learn. That, piques my interest. If he claims to love the Creator? Forget it. You can knock me over with a feather, The Creator of All Things has always been my number one object of affection and devotion. Tell me you are striving to have a closer relationship with: God, Iehovah, Yahweh, Jesus, Buddha, Shiva, the Am that I Am, Allah, et al and we can commune, fellowship, build for eons. And the most detrimental piece of my quagmire...S-W-A-G! OOOHHH, how I love a man with a presence. Money, and toys are nice, but I have been known to give sanctuary to men who had incredible amounts of charm and charisma due to their sheer magnetism. Now that I know that, I take responsibility for my choices and I keep myself under careful guard because I have a tendency to acknowledge all of these things about them, however, I forget who it is that these Fine Sirs are approaching. I am nothing to sneeze at. Not by a long shot (I'm feeling sort of retro right now), that, however is another post.
My point is, Trevlyn is the perfect representation of the Dream Fulfilled. Her auntie is working to define the terms and conditions of sliding down the rainbow and into her Own Pot of Gold! To Trevlyn!
Monday, December 15, 2008
white flags and hot potatoes
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!
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!
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.
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