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."

Treachery, Surrender, Complicity

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.

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.

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.

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!