Tonight, I am at a point in my life where I am very, very tired. I am exhausted by the constant transition, overwhelmed from being inundated with massive issues that ride into my life as punctually as the tide. I am tired of trying to figure it all out, which is funny, because I've hardly begun to try in the first place.
In fact, I'm too tired to finish this blog the way I intended to when I started. So, here are some things I've been thinking lately, just the raw deal, no fancy stuff.:
1. My soon-to-be ex-husband confuses the crap out of me, and it's so annoying. I do not regret our fights. Although I am remorseful and hurt by the memories, they were actually quite therapeutic for me. I think I'll take up kickboxing...
2. I am still very drawn to Christ and some Christian teachings, but I have not been to church regularly since 2007. Every time I go I remember why I stopped going. (Cue MJB's "No Drama"). But I will say that something in me really wants to have a solid spiritual connection with other people. That must be why I manage to muster up the self-induced amnesia that carries me through a dense fog and into the pews of a church once every six months. I need a new fix...
3. My personality has gone through some wild changes lately, at least to the outsider looking in. I, like most people, adjust to the world around me. I try my best to learn the lessons life presents to me, and modify my behavior accordingly. I am not unchanged by everything that has happened, and one part of me finds that fascinating, maybe even exciting. That's how life is lived - we change.
Another part of me is absolutely terrified about what that means for my future. There's a line in Their Eyes Were Watching God that I'll never forget: "Janie's first dream was dead, so she became a woman." The changes I've been going through lately all have to do with dead and dying dreams, so I guess I'm a woman now. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud. It makes me feel good to have come through some things, to have the kind of strength that has been tested. Still, as the quotation implies, there's a kind of morbidity that comes with this brand of maturity. There's a numbness to it. I'm afraid I'll end up another bitter black woman, damaged goods, or at the very least, just not special. True, I've learned a few things, become better in some ways, but in exchange some invisible hand has reached inside of me and started messing with the dimmer switch. This little light of mine isn't shining so bright anymore... and that scares me.
I saw one of MJB's SUV commercials the other day. Modern-day Mary was driving, and various Marys from other eras were filling the passenger and back seats. There were no words through the whole thing, until Modern Mary gets out and opens the trunk. The next shot is them driving away, with luggage on the sidewalk behind them. Then the voice over man says "The space to take everything with you, the wisdom to leave the baggage behind." At that, I burst into spontaneous tears (which I do a lot these days).
I want that. I want to own my innocence and my experience, and not have them cancel each other out. I want to make a purposeful decision to leave the burdens behind. I want a flicker of an idea about how to begin that process. And I want the courage, the hope, and the energy to follow through.
I also want your support, whoever you are. I can use all the help I can get. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers, please.
Peace.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
goodbye
you didn't ask me
to stay
and that's when i knew
it was love.
loveseed
potential all wrapped up in
a kiss
a caress
an honest word
a profound relaxing of the senses that happens
when we meet.
spirit, truth, beauty
all wrapped up
in a revelation.
but no place for it to grow
(for both our hearts are fallow)
and no time
so, in its place, my lover
(my love)
here is a bittersweet, practical
goodbye
to stay
and that's when i knew
it was love.
loveseed
potential all wrapped up in
a kiss
a caress
an honest word
a profound relaxing of the senses that happens
when we meet.
spirit, truth, beauty
all wrapped up
in a revelation.
but no place for it to grow
(for both our hearts are fallow)
and no time
so, in its place, my lover
(my love)
here is a bittersweet, practical
goodbye
For the man that killed poetry.
It doesn't blame you, dear one.
You should know that
my soul is satisfied now.
Awakened and resurrected and made new
by the Spirit of love.
She knows it was her own god that slew her
though you bore the sword.
She doesn't resent you;
It was the emptiness, the open spaces she left
that echoed her torment
and turned it into loathing.
Straining not to collapse upon itself
it was the hollowness
that hated you.
But she is alive now
bringing me back her warmth
and you have no need to repent
any longer.
If there is anyone she shrinks from still
it is I.
I served her up as offering
I watched, and let her die.
It will take
many beginnings and ends
but we too will be reconciled.
We press...
And in the midst of this patching-up of things
this sewing on of my shadow - soul talks,
we realized that
in all our years
we had never written you a poem.
So here you are:
you are
forgiven.
be at peace.
You should know that
my soul is satisfied now.
Awakened and resurrected and made new
by the Spirit of love.
She knows it was her own god that slew her
though you bore the sword.
She doesn't resent you;
It was the emptiness, the open spaces she left
that echoed her torment
and turned it into loathing.
Straining not to collapse upon itself
it was the hollowness
that hated you.
But she is alive now
bringing me back her warmth
and you have no need to repent
any longer.
If there is anyone she shrinks from still
it is I.
I served her up as offering
I watched, and let her die.
It will take
many beginnings and ends
but we too will be reconciled.
We press...
And in the midst of this patching-up of things
this sewing on of my shadow - soul talks,
we realized that
in all our years
we had never written you a poem.
So here you are:
you are
forgiven.
be at peace.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Flipping the Script
Okay.
So have you ever had someone you thought you were close to totally show their tail, and then act like you were the one in the wrong? And did it annoy the snot out of you, but still somehow begin to work, like some crazy Jedi mind trick? And then when you snapped back into reality, did it make you want to drag that bamma out to the curb and go Gary Coleman on 'em?
Because it's happened to me, several times. Am I the only one? Do I attract manipulative people, or is it that the odds are against me, because most people are crazy and manipulative? I'm hoping for the former, because at least I have some control of that one.
So have you ever had someone you thought you were close to totally show their tail, and then act like you were the one in the wrong? And did it annoy the snot out of you, but still somehow begin to work, like some crazy Jedi mind trick? And then when you snapped back into reality, did it make you want to drag that bamma out to the curb and go Gary Coleman on 'em?
Because it's happened to me, several times. Am I the only one? Do I attract manipulative people, or is it that the odds are against me, because most people are crazy and manipulative? I'm hoping for the former, because at least I have some control of that one.
Friday, September 26, 2008
false prophet
Part I
tell me
should i be ashamed of my needs?
why?
they are sacred
not in the sacrificial sense
but bold and real
tender and intimate and demanding
like god
growing and changing
like me
why do you look at me that way?
as if you are trying to disguise your judgement
as if you could judge me?
i am holy
not necessarily pure
i am no lamb, no virgin, no pristine watery-eyed thing
but i am good
beautiful and real
like life
not all of God's children are called to be martyrs.
Part II
it seems, my love
that you have even fooled yourself.
i will pray your strength, false prophet
for you will carry that cross
alone.
still, remember me...
salvation is not in your hands
you are not my hero
but you will die for this.
and i will pray, for your sake
that you will rise again
and live.
tell me
should i be ashamed of my needs?
why?
they are sacred
not in the sacrificial sense
but bold and real
tender and intimate and demanding
like god
growing and changing
like me
why do you look at me that way?
as if you are trying to disguise your judgement
as if you could judge me?
i am holy
not necessarily pure
i am no lamb, no virgin, no pristine watery-eyed thing
but i am good
beautiful and real
like life
not all of God's children are called to be martyrs.
Part II
it seems, my love
that you have even fooled yourself.
i will pray your strength, false prophet
for you will carry that cross
alone.
still, remember me...
salvation is not in your hands
you are not my hero
but you will die for this.
and i will pray, for your sake
that you will rise again
and live.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Work. Do. Be?
My mother says I work too hard.
She has felt this way as long as I can remember, but growing up her constant, motherly warnings of "you need to sitch-yo-self down somewhere," "don't take yourself so seriously, Carmen" and "when are you going to rest?" always confused me. I was hardly the biggest overachiever among my peers. The hallways of the schools I attended were filled with hundreds of scrubbed black, brown, yellow and pink faces, all glowing with possibility. Many of them wanted to be doctors, lawyers, veterinarians and marine biologists. (Actually, I think my entire class went through a marine biology phase in the fifth grade or so - some textbook had left us all obsessed with manatees.) I had only wanted to write, novels at first and then articles after my father insisted that journalism was a more stable way for a writer to make a living. Sure, I was involved. But the other kids were student government officers, captains of sports teams, torchbearers for important causes. I was smart, but no genius. Good, but not the best. Busy, but not too busy. At least that's how I felt back then...
I look back at my high school photos now and marvel. How did that girl do it?! My last year in high school I was co-editor of our school newspaper and a senior member of the Dance Company. I also held down a part-time job, completed a Research Practicum for the science and technology program, and managed a full course load including 2 AP classes. I did all of of this in addition to college applications, and had some pretty fruitful relationships.
I look at the pictures in amazement. That only slightly younger me was Superwoman, and I'm afraid I will never live up to her legacy. But then I begin to squint. I let my head lay to one side as the alternating questions of how? and why? begin to run through my head.
My senior year in college I led an on-campus Bible study and was the head choreographer for the associated dance group. I held an executive committee position in the Black Student Movement. I had a job as a Resident Adviser, served on the Union Board of Directors, completed two majors and planned a wedding. I managed it all, perhaps not as well as I did in high school (it helps to have someone who makes sure you get up for class), but well. Still, how? Why?
At any rate it's not there. And to me, I am beginning to look old. Someone told me the other day I could pass for seventeen if I didn't open my mouth. But he doesn't know how bright my eyes used to be. He wasn't close enough to see the burgundy peeking through the skin of my eyelids, or the lines beginning to etch themselves on my forehead. Where did this come from? I'm not old; I'm 24! Young, and profoundly disappointed in myself for misplacing my multitasking skills somewhere between college graduation and here. Praying that I can fake it until retirement.
What is wrong with me? Do I have lupus? Maybe sickle cell? Perhaps it's some lethal, undetectable form of cancer that will make the fact that I only do some things (instead of everything) more acceptable. At my funeral, they will say, "even though she was sick, she still managed to do This." And then This will be enough.
Wishful thinking. Chances are that I don't have cancer, lupus, sickle cell anemia or any other get-out-of-doing-more free ailment. So, the questions return, slightly revised. How did I get so lazy? Why am I so tired?
The thrill is gone, and even though the things I do now hardly match the hustle that some expect of me - that I used to expect of myself - I hardly have the energy to sit up straight. In fact, I'm slouching now, writing this after a Friday night spent planning and working. It's not enough though. I could have done more. Honestly, though, I don't want to. But I will. I must.
Actually, you don't have to do any of this at all.
The thought presents itself, clear but gentle, and remains still for a few seconds. Then it proceeds to clink against the walls of my mind like a pinball, noisy, shiny and busy. However, making no valuable contact with my intellectual senses, it rolls back down and out of my head, settling in my chest.
It's heavy. I slouch a little more.
But if I didn't do this, what would I do? Without doing, who would I be? Why would I be? And how?
The answers that have been swirling around in my gut have recognized their chance. They threaten an uprising, first to overtake my heart, then my mind. But fear, old master, swoops in like a night rider and suppresses their liberation attempts. Good.
Sad, but good.
Truths such as those beg action. I am not ready. I'll choose not to think those thoughts tonight. For now, I'll just sleep. I have to wake up early tomorrow. I have a lot to do.
(P.S. I get it now, Mom.)
She has felt this way as long as I can remember, but growing up her constant, motherly warnings of "you need to sitch-yo-self down somewhere," "don't take yourself so seriously, Carmen" and "when are you going to rest?" always confused me. I was hardly the biggest overachiever among my peers. The hallways of the schools I attended were filled with hundreds of scrubbed black, brown, yellow and pink faces, all glowing with possibility. Many of them wanted to be doctors, lawyers, veterinarians and marine biologists. (Actually, I think my entire class went through a marine biology phase in the fifth grade or so - some textbook had left us all obsessed with manatees.) I had only wanted to write, novels at first and then articles after my father insisted that journalism was a more stable way for a writer to make a living. Sure, I was involved. But the other kids were student government officers, captains of sports teams, torchbearers for important causes. I was smart, but no genius. Good, but not the best. Busy, but not too busy. At least that's how I felt back then...
I look back at my high school photos now and marvel. How did that girl do it?! My last year in high school I was co-editor of our school newspaper and a senior member of the Dance Company. I also held down a part-time job, completed a Research Practicum for the science and technology program, and managed a full course load including 2 AP classes. I did all of of this in addition to college applications, and had some pretty fruitful relationships.
I look at the pictures in amazement. That only slightly younger me was Superwoman, and I'm afraid I will never live up to her legacy. But then I begin to squint. I let my head lay to one side as the alternating questions of how? and why? begin to run through my head.
My senior year in college I led an on-campus Bible study and was the head choreographer for the associated dance group. I held an executive committee position in the Black Student Movement. I had a job as a Resident Adviser, served on the Union Board of Directors, completed two majors and planned a wedding. I managed it all, perhaps not as well as I did in high school (it helps to have someone who makes sure you get up for class), but well. Still, how? Why?
***
I feel lazy now, when I look at my peers. Like I'm not making good enough use of myself. Something pricks at me when I see them walking by so quickly, accomplishing everything in a day. To think, just seconds earlier I had been enjoying my stroll. How... unproductive.***
I look at myself in the mirror now and resist the urge to hang my head. Instead, I stare. Few traces of the young woman I used to be remain. I have searched for her, tried to reconstruct her from memory. Her energy, her fire, is gone. Or perhaps it is somewhere hidden, buried underneath the layers of uniforms I wear and never take off, like a treasure. I think one day God went and hid it from me, knowing that if it remained at hand I would use up the sacred thing much too early in life, and on the wrong things. Hopefully.At any rate it's not there. And to me, I am beginning to look old. Someone told me the other day I could pass for seventeen if I didn't open my mouth. But he doesn't know how bright my eyes used to be. He wasn't close enough to see the burgundy peeking through the skin of my eyelids, or the lines beginning to etch themselves on my forehead. Where did this come from? I'm not old; I'm 24! Young, and profoundly disappointed in myself for misplacing my multitasking skills somewhere between college graduation and here. Praying that I can fake it until retirement.
What is wrong with me? Do I have lupus? Maybe sickle cell? Perhaps it's some lethal, undetectable form of cancer that will make the fact that I only do some things (instead of everything) more acceptable. At my funeral, they will say, "even though she was sick, she still managed to do This." And then This will be enough.
Wishful thinking. Chances are that I don't have cancer, lupus, sickle cell anemia or any other get-out-of-doing-more free ailment. So, the questions return, slightly revised. How did I get so lazy? Why am I so tired?
The thrill is gone, and even though the things I do now hardly match the hustle that some expect of me - that I used to expect of myself - I hardly have the energy to sit up straight. In fact, I'm slouching now, writing this after a Friday night spent planning and working. It's not enough though. I could have done more. Honestly, though, I don't want to. But I will. I must.
Actually, you don't have to do any of this at all.
The thought presents itself, clear but gentle, and remains still for a few seconds. Then it proceeds to clink against the walls of my mind like a pinball, noisy, shiny and busy. However, making no valuable contact with my intellectual senses, it rolls back down and out of my head, settling in my chest.
It's heavy. I slouch a little more.
But if I didn't do this, what would I do? Without doing, who would I be? Why would I be? And how?
The answers that have been swirling around in my gut have recognized their chance. They threaten an uprising, first to overtake my heart, then my mind. But fear, old master, swoops in like a night rider and suppresses their liberation attempts. Good.
Sad, but good.
Truths such as those beg action. I am not ready. I'll choose not to think those thoughts tonight. For now, I'll just sleep. I have to wake up early tomorrow. I have a lot to do.
(P.S. I get it now, Mom.)
the intellectual
the house is built strong
for safety and
protection
but why, my love
do you sleep
on the porch?
the place for sitting
cooly observing
solving the problems of those
whose business you feel privy to
is no place to find
rest
yes, it is beautiful
you did a fine job building it
but the porch will become faded
and soon begin to sag
under the weight of the elements,
constant activity
and all your heavy thinking
where then
shall you go?
i need you to go in from there
turn off the lights
and awaken the spirit that you only allow to emerge
in the midst of darkness
then,
filled with it's warmth
reach out
and invite me in.
for safety and
protection
but why, my love
do you sleep
on the porch?
the place for sitting
cooly observing
solving the problems of those
whose business you feel privy to
is no place to find
rest
yes, it is beautiful
you did a fine job building it
but the porch will become faded
and soon begin to sag
under the weight of the elements,
constant activity
and all your heavy thinking
where then
shall you go?
i need you to go in from there
turn off the lights
and awaken the spirit that you only allow to emerge
in the midst of darkness
then,
filled with it's warmth
reach out
and invite me in.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
things i'm not supposed to think
1. Some children are demons sent directly from hell to torment their teachers.
2. I wish I had a butt/ breasts/ skin/ legs/ teeth/ etc. like hers.
3. "You made me hit you!"
4. My cousin is really, really attractive...
5. And the BIG one: Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find anyone better than my soon-to-be ex-husband. My brain screams "YES! He was a total bastard!!! You can do so much better!" But honestly, something in my heart doesn't know. Is this because I secretly think that deep down he's a great guy and/or vastly improving, and I should have given it another shot? Maybe. But it's more likely that I just think all men are bastards, on some level, and the bastard you know is better than the bastard you don't know, right?
Plus, I get lonely. That probably qualifies as another thought that a strong black woman of the new millenium shouldn't think. However, it's my truth, and I would venture to say that most of the folks this side of 55 claiming to be a part of the "alone but never lonely" crowd are delusional. Never? Come on...
Still, would I sacrifice my dreams and hopes to return to a comfortable but overwhelmingly mediocre marriage? No.
I don't think...
Anyway, enough rambling. Here's an interesting article I read recently, somewhat related to this post: http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/08/26/o.divorce.dreams/ Very thought provoking for me, but a good read regardless.
Take care people!
2. I wish I had a butt/ breasts/ skin/ legs/ teeth/ etc. like hers.
3. "You made me hit you!"
4. My cousin is really, really attractive...
5. And the BIG one: Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find anyone better than my soon-to-be ex-husband. My brain screams "YES! He was a total bastard!!! You can do so much better!" But honestly, something in my heart doesn't know. Is this because I secretly think that deep down he's a great guy and/or vastly improving, and I should have given it another shot? Maybe. But it's more likely that I just think all men are bastards, on some level, and the bastard you know is better than the bastard you don't know, right?
Plus, I get lonely. That probably qualifies as another thought that a strong black woman of the new millenium shouldn't think. However, it's my truth, and I would venture to say that most of the folks this side of 55 claiming to be a part of the "alone but never lonely" crowd are delusional. Never? Come on...
Still, would I sacrifice my dreams and hopes to return to a comfortable but overwhelmingly mediocre marriage? No.
I don't think...
Anyway, enough rambling. Here's an interesting article I read recently, somewhat related to this post: http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/08/26/o.divorce.dreams/ Very thought provoking for me, but a good read regardless.
Take care people!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
comfort
in a moment of confusion, i asked
"where am i?"
spiritually speaking
i was told, "somewhere between here and there"
god is funny
it answered a questioned unasked
"stop seeking and find"
so here i am.
"where am i?"
spiritually speaking
i was told, "somewhere between here and there"
god is funny
it answered a questioned unasked
"stop seeking and find"
so here i am.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
thank you
in response to blu moon's "the answer...": http://blumoon85.blogspot.com/2008/09/answer.html
my dear sister~
thank you so much. that was the answer i needed.
it's funny that in the midst of a divorce i think i value love more than ever before. i want love. i need love. i love love. i AM love. i think...
i dream of it constantly and without effort. but then i open my eyes and i just see all the obstacles, again without effort. and i realize that i'm a bit jaded; i haven't come through this thing without scars. which is natural, i guess, but still kind of depressing. is it possible to not be wounded? but who will want the wounded me?
...life is full of conflict for a cynical romantic. but i will remain open to miracles.
my dear sister~
thank you so much. that was the answer i needed.
it's funny that in the midst of a divorce i think i value love more than ever before. i want love. i need love. i love love. i AM love. i think...
i dream of it constantly and without effort. but then i open my eyes and i just see all the obstacles, again without effort. and i realize that i'm a bit jaded; i haven't come through this thing without scars. which is natural, i guess, but still kind of depressing. is it possible to not be wounded? but who will want the wounded me?
...life is full of conflict for a cynical romantic. but i will remain open to miracles.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
poem for the river II
i am an earth sign.
stable,
more practical than i like to admit.
you cut through me like water.
persistent, gentle, powerful
natural.
fully unaware that you
are changing me.
smoothing my rough places
soothing
and moistening
where i was parched.
carrying pieces of me away
and changing my shape.
making me softer
so that you are harder
to resist.
and i allow it
because i have no choice.
and it feels so good.
the ease,
the helplessness of it all.
a force of nature that overtakes my own.
i want to be carried away on your current
because it feels like living.
even though i know the truth.
that one day
you will deposit me on a strange bank
and keep flowing.
fully unaware
that you have moved me.
stable,
more practical than i like to admit.
you cut through me like water.
persistent, gentle, powerful
natural.
fully unaware that you
are changing me.
smoothing my rough places
soothing
and moistening
where i was parched.
carrying pieces of me away
and changing my shape.
making me softer
so that you are harder
to resist.
and i allow it
because i have no choice.
and it feels so good.
the ease,
the helplessness of it all.
a force of nature that overtakes my own.
i want to be carried away on your current
because it feels like living.
even though i know the truth.
that one day
you will deposit me on a strange bank
and keep flowing.
fully unaware
that you have moved me.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The Revolution Has Been Televised
Barack Obama just accepted the presidential nomination of the Democratic Party. I just finished sobbing. I never thought I would see it in my lifetime - a Black man with a real chance at being President. Never.
I didn't think I would react so strongly. In fact, many of the emotions my soul has released this week of the Democratic National Convention have caught me off guard. Yesterday, when Obama came onstage only for a brief moment, my body immediately leaped off the couch and proceeded to dance and shout for several minutes, without warning. Like a child celebrating the appearance of a hero, I felt proud, safe, happy... free. I wore myself out dancing and chanting last night, and then marveled at the effect this man had on me.
Make no mistake, I have always been amazed by Barack Obama, and all that his nomination means for America. I have been a staunch supporter for quite some time. Still, this week has been... different, especially tonight. As he delivered his acceptance speech, I thought to myself, "They can finally see us." I said it aloud, whispered it to myself. They can see us.
I have no idea where that thought came from. I had no idea that I felt invisible until just that moment. Nonetheless, when Obama accepted the nomination, something broke open inside of me and then began to heal. At once I felt affirmed, acknowledged. Seen.
Black Americans were born inside the gates of America, but far from the comfort of the home. Generation by generation, we have inched closer to the house where our white brothers and sisters reside. The Civil Rights Movement took us directly to the front steps, where we protested and prayed and sang and shouted and were noticed, but only for a little while. As decades passed and the memories of our great leaders faded into history, America removed us from its focus, and we began to blend in with our surroundings. We became permanent fixtures on the porch of America's home - accepted, sometimes appreciated and bragged about (for aesthetic reasons - the trendy look of diversity), but largely passed by, unnoticed. We have never been acknowledged as people, five-fifths human. We have never been invited in. Every now and then, someone finds the chutzpa to knock at the door. But there has never been an answer. The door has never been opened.
Until now.
Obama is a man none of us can deny. He is intelligent, spiritual, and sincere - called for this purpose. Barack Obama holds the key to the door of a new America. With his message of hope and belief in dreams, he has opened the eyes of all Americans. Now they see us.
More importantly, now we have the opportunity to see ourselves in a whole new way. We can begin to shed the insecurities, the inferiority complexes, the robes of stress we acquire from operating in a world where we feel out of control and incapable, on varying levels, every day. Now, when we tell our kids that they can be anything they want, we can believe it, and they can believe in themselves. When they come home from school and say that they want to be the future Presidents of the United States of America, we don't have to smile and nod while silently disregarding it as a pipe dream. We can see ourselves now. Aren't we beautiful?
I do not think that electing Barack Obama into office will instantly overturn the racism that has been ingrained in our institutions since the nation's birth. To expect such would be ridiculous. However, I do feel that his election will be a great leap toward the healing of the Black American psyche. Even in coming this far, he has provided us the chance to take up the pride, courage, and self-love that we lost somewhere in the midst of Cointelpro, crack, and BET. He has done wonders for me in just a night.
I think that tomorrow I will wake with a fresh kind of confidence and a new sense of community: America. I will expect to be seen as I pass by, so I will wave. I will expect to be heard, so I will open my mouth and speak. Amazing. If other people feel the way I do, then things really can change. Barack Obama is the leader of a new revolution. Who knew that it would be televised?
Thanks, Future President Obama, for helping us all see.
I didn't think I would react so strongly. In fact, many of the emotions my soul has released this week of the Democratic National Convention have caught me off guard. Yesterday, when Obama came onstage only for a brief moment, my body immediately leaped off the couch and proceeded to dance and shout for several minutes, without warning. Like a child celebrating the appearance of a hero, I felt proud, safe, happy... free. I wore myself out dancing and chanting last night, and then marveled at the effect this man had on me.
Make no mistake, I have always been amazed by Barack Obama, and all that his nomination means for America. I have been a staunch supporter for quite some time. Still, this week has been... different, especially tonight. As he delivered his acceptance speech, I thought to myself, "They can finally see us." I said it aloud, whispered it to myself. They can see us.
I have no idea where that thought came from. I had no idea that I felt invisible until just that moment. Nonetheless, when Obama accepted the nomination, something broke open inside of me and then began to heal. At once I felt affirmed, acknowledged. Seen.
Black Americans were born inside the gates of America, but far from the comfort of the home. Generation by generation, we have inched closer to the house where our white brothers and sisters reside. The Civil Rights Movement took us directly to the front steps, where we protested and prayed and sang and shouted and were noticed, but only for a little while. As decades passed and the memories of our great leaders faded into history, America removed us from its focus, and we began to blend in with our surroundings. We became permanent fixtures on the porch of America's home - accepted, sometimes appreciated and bragged about (for aesthetic reasons - the trendy look of diversity), but largely passed by, unnoticed. We have never been acknowledged as people, five-fifths human. We have never been invited in. Every now and then, someone finds the chutzpa to knock at the door. But there has never been an answer. The door has never been opened.
Until now.
Obama is a man none of us can deny. He is intelligent, spiritual, and sincere - called for this purpose. Barack Obama holds the key to the door of a new America. With his message of hope and belief in dreams, he has opened the eyes of all Americans. Now they see us.
More importantly, now we have the opportunity to see ourselves in a whole new way. We can begin to shed the insecurities, the inferiority complexes, the robes of stress we acquire from operating in a world where we feel out of control and incapable, on varying levels, every day. Now, when we tell our kids that they can be anything they want, we can believe it, and they can believe in themselves. When they come home from school and say that they want to be the future Presidents of the United States of America, we don't have to smile and nod while silently disregarding it as a pipe dream. We can see ourselves now. Aren't we beautiful?
I do not think that electing Barack Obama into office will instantly overturn the racism that has been ingrained in our institutions since the nation's birth. To expect such would be ridiculous. However, I do feel that his election will be a great leap toward the healing of the Black American psyche. Even in coming this far, he has provided us the chance to take up the pride, courage, and self-love that we lost somewhere in the midst of Cointelpro, crack, and BET. He has done wonders for me in just a night.
I think that tomorrow I will wake with a fresh kind of confidence and a new sense of community: America. I will expect to be seen as I pass by, so I will wave. I will expect to be heard, so I will open my mouth and speak. Amazing. If other people feel the way I do, then things really can change. Barack Obama is the leader of a new revolution. Who knew that it would be televised?
Thanks, Future President Obama, for helping us all see.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Inspirations
So, after a euphoric high point this summer followed recently by a slight lull, I find myself trying to get back on the path to sunlight and dream-living. Here are some of the quotations that have inspired me lately:
"This is our goal, to experience the fullness of life by being active participants in the living process."
~Blu Moon
"I live my life the way I want. I've got nothing to hide, nothing at all."
~Ayo, "Life is Real"
"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
~Howard Thurman
"Knowledge is a process of piling up facts; wisdom is their simplification."
~Martin H. Fisher
"Live your life with a purpose beyond yourself, and you'll find that the world is as bold and broad as the interests that brought you here today."
~Bryant Gumbel
"A hard worker has plenty of food, but a person who chases fantasies has no sense."
~Proverbs 12:11
...and this entire article: http://www.oprah.com/article/omagazine/200809_omag_beck_coach/1
"This is our goal, to experience the fullness of life by being active participants in the living process."
~Blu Moon
"I live my life the way I want. I've got nothing to hide, nothing at all."
~Ayo, "Life is Real"
"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
~Howard Thurman
"Knowledge is a process of piling up facts; wisdom is their simplification."
~Martin H. Fisher
"Live your life with a purpose beyond yourself, and you'll find that the world is as bold and broad as the interests that brought you here today."
~Bryant Gumbel
"A hard worker has plenty of food, but a person who chases fantasies has no sense."
~Proverbs 12:11
...and this entire article: http://www.oprah.com/article/omagazine/200809_omag_beck_coach/1
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Snapshot Poem: "Wide Eyes"
Maybe if I
Gave it a shot
I could fly
In my dreams
Again
Perhaps if I let loose and shined my light
Showed my pride
Bore my teeth
Wore my smile
I might be once again
Free
I think that I can reach that place again
In fact, I know that I’m (headed) there
And I would like to share, with you
The beauty of love and awareness
The wonder of the sun
Would love to find balance
And work toward nirvana with you
Ecstasy in your arms
Manifest visions that rest behind eyelids
Flying in my dreams
With you
I want to love you the most in the present moment
Won’t wait for tomorrow
To just be with you
I will give my greatest gifts to you
If you will accept
My love
And constant transition
We can grow together
Dig deep into the Earth and be buried alive in each others’ skin together
Burst through the soil and become new life together
Look, reach for the sun together
Drop the fruit that the birds eat and take to the skies together
Free fall together, back toward home
And start all over together
You can be my love, my partner
I your confidante and trusted friend
And we can enjoy, together
The life we create from love
In the wide open spaces of the moment
Gave it a shot
I could fly
In my dreams
Again
Perhaps if I let loose and shined my light
Showed my pride
Bore my teeth
Wore my smile
I might be once again
Free
I think that I can reach that place again
In fact, I know that I’m (headed) there
And I would like to share, with you
The beauty of love and awareness
The wonder of the sun
Would love to find balance
And work toward nirvana with you
Ecstasy in your arms
Manifest visions that rest behind eyelids
Flying in my dreams
With you
I want to love you the most in the present moment
Won’t wait for tomorrow
To just be with you
I will give my greatest gifts to you
If you will accept
My love
And constant transition
We can grow together
Dig deep into the Earth and be buried alive in each others’ skin together
Burst through the soil and become new life together
Look, reach for the sun together
Drop the fruit that the birds eat and take to the skies together
Free fall together, back toward home
And start all over together
You can be my love, my partner
I your confidante and trusted friend
And we can enjoy, together
The life we create from love
In the wide open spaces of the moment
Snapshot Poem: "The Prodigal"
Rebellious
mind whirling, body sinking, soul convulsing
still pressing outward
away from the fire
that burned
scared, but independent
determined, but unsure
can dreams come true?
or is my ultimate destination
a mirage
must find out
will not be bound
by spirit or truth
don’t want to act
perfect
for their sake
uneasy, to acknowledge the heaven
and not the earth
the clouds
without the dirt
but spirit and flesh coexist
not always friends
not always enemies
but companions
so, gone into darkness to find
pieces of self that make spirit smile
or cringe, both are necessary for now
and if this journey should lead to a return
spirit will put it all back together again
and exhale a pleasant sigh
that her flesh
is home
mind whirling, body sinking, soul convulsing
still pressing outward
away from the fire
that burned
scared, but independent
determined, but unsure
can dreams come true?
or is my ultimate destination
a mirage
must find out
will not be bound
by spirit or truth
don’t want to act
perfect
for their sake
uneasy, to acknowledge the heaven
and not the earth
the clouds
without the dirt
but spirit and flesh coexist
not always friends
not always enemies
but companions
so, gone into darkness to find
pieces of self that make spirit smile
or cringe, both are necessary for now
and if this journey should lead to a return
spirit will put it all back together again
and exhale a pleasant sigh
that her flesh
is home
Snapshot Poem: "Salvation"
How can I save the world
If I can’t even save myself?
But then,
I suppose
I haven’t thought I could save myself
for a while
I was told
He would do it
He was the only one who could
But I think I messed it up
Put it on wrong
Somewhere in the midst of the waves and wind
My own ignorance
The rope He threw into the sea for me
Became a noose
I wonder if
By the time the storm subsides
I’ll be dead anyway
And it’s too late now
To choose
A dignified death
Death my way
I would have rather drowned
Been lost forever at sea
Had them remember me smiling, enjoying the water even as it consumed me
Than having them drag my heavy body ashore
Screaming, wailing, gasping
At my bloated, unrecognizable features
Recoiling at the site of my body
Their daughter, sister, friend
Within reach
But no glimpse of who she used to be
More than dead
Gone
Might be what happens
But then again
I suppose
I haven’t thought I could save myself
For a while
Which means I haven’t tried…
If I can’t even save myself?
But then,
I suppose
I haven’t thought I could save myself
for a while
I was told
He would do it
He was the only one who could
But I think I messed it up
Put it on wrong
Somewhere in the midst of the waves and wind
My own ignorance
The rope He threw into the sea for me
Became a noose
I wonder if
By the time the storm subsides
I’ll be dead anyway
And it’s too late now
To choose
A dignified death
Death my way
I would have rather drowned
Been lost forever at sea
Had them remember me smiling, enjoying the water even as it consumed me
Than having them drag my heavy body ashore
Screaming, wailing, gasping
At my bloated, unrecognizable features
Recoiling at the site of my body
Their daughter, sister, friend
Within reach
But no glimpse of who she used to be
More than dead
Gone
Might be what happens
But then again
I suppose
I haven’t thought I could save myself
For a while
Which means I haven’t tried…
Snapshot Poem: "Untitled Part II"
II
Perhaps I am wrong
They are superwomen
Living dreams
Leaving me behind
Perhaps I am missing out
On the beauty of life
Always longing for it
I wonder perhaps,
If a part of me is missing
Dead before birth
10 fingers
10 toes
But no emotional competence
Lacking the ability to maintain the connections
I so sincerely need
Drive and follow-through, nil
A deficit of action
And overcompensating imagination
And so I spend my days
Imagining a life like theirs
Scared to find out the hard way
Perhaps I am wrong
They are superwomen
Living dreams
Leaving me behind
Perhaps I am missing out
On the beauty of life
Always longing for it
I wonder perhaps,
If a part of me is missing
Dead before birth
10 fingers
10 toes
But no emotional competence
Lacking the ability to maintain the connections
I so sincerely need
Drive and follow-through, nil
A deficit of action
And overcompensating imagination
And so I spend my days
Imagining a life like theirs
Scared to find out the hard way
Snapshot Poem: "Might"
might have to end it all
after all
it’s all over anyway
tired of the confusion
upset with my own delusions
but not wanting to substitute their illusions
God knows I’ve wanted to figure it out
and I’ve tried with all my…
might have to run away
too scared what will happen to me if I stay
and settling down into this quicksand fate
mocks the thought of destiny
makes all of the prophecies seem like hypocrisy
don’t want to pay the cost
so maybe I’ll just get lost
write a letter saying “I can’t do this anymore; I’m tired
but I really did love you, with all of my…”
might have to make a life out of this
quilt a blanket of joy
from the tattered pieces of dreams never to be realized
the broken pieces of me behind the disguise
elders said stay, and if I strive to be wise
I must first heed wisdom
(I suppose)
want to make the adult decision
but in this situation my immaturity has come raging out of remission
and He’s tried to use that double-edged sword to make an incision
though He slay me
but I feel like I’m bleeding to death
flesh and spirit draining from my side until there’s nothing left
head hung low
Father, why have you forsaken me!
really, do you know what it’s like to be slain?
for me it is too much
and I don’t think I can bear this weight
I don’t think I can live this life
I don’t think I can take another step
on this path
too weak, and too angry to follow behind a crowd I’m not sure if I trust anymore
too wary too find out if I can trust anymore
but something small and still within me is still believing that He loves me with all of His..
might have to let it all go
give up the fantasy for good
open the gates
and let my emotions flow
trust that God will calm the waters, and that time will show
that a good life here is possible
that I can overcome all the obstacles
that peace
and love
and joy
and soul-satisfaction are probable
if I love Him with all of my…
after all
it’s all over anyway
tired of the confusion
upset with my own delusions
but not wanting to substitute their illusions
God knows I’ve wanted to figure it out
and I’ve tried with all my…
might have to run away
too scared what will happen to me if I stay
and settling down into this quicksand fate
mocks the thought of destiny
makes all of the prophecies seem like hypocrisy
don’t want to pay the cost
so maybe I’ll just get lost
write a letter saying “I can’t do this anymore; I’m tired
but I really did love you, with all of my…”
might have to make a life out of this
quilt a blanket of joy
from the tattered pieces of dreams never to be realized
the broken pieces of me behind the disguise
elders said stay, and if I strive to be wise
I must first heed wisdom
(I suppose)
want to make the adult decision
but in this situation my immaturity has come raging out of remission
and He’s tried to use that double-edged sword to make an incision
though He slay me
but I feel like I’m bleeding to death
flesh and spirit draining from my side until there’s nothing left
head hung low
Father, why have you forsaken me!
really, do you know what it’s like to be slain?
for me it is too much
and I don’t think I can bear this weight
I don’t think I can live this life
I don’t think I can take another step
on this path
too weak, and too angry to follow behind a crowd I’m not sure if I trust anymore
too wary too find out if I can trust anymore
but something small and still within me is still believing that He loves me with all of His..
might have to let it all go
give up the fantasy for good
open the gates
and let my emotions flow
trust that God will calm the waters, and that time will show
that a good life here is possible
that I can overcome all the obstacles
that peace
and love
and joy
and soul-satisfaction are probable
if I love Him with all of my…
Snapshot Poems, 2006 - 2008
The next few posts are selections from a group of old poems I found recently. I wrote them over the past two years - a period of my life that has been tumultuous even on the best days. In re-reading them, I discovered that they provide very accurate glimpses into where I was at given points during this grand transition. When read together, they tell my story honestly and somewhat well.
Some of these poems represent who I am and how I feel today, some do not. However, I think that in order to be the person I want to be, and to give and receive love the way I need to, I have to share the whole process.
Go there with me...?
Love and peace.
Some of these poems represent who I am and how I feel today, some do not. However, I think that in order to be the person I want to be, and to give and receive love the way I need to, I have to share the whole process.
Go there with me...?
Love and peace.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Sister of Samson
I think I know now,
How Samson must have felt
You crept in
Like a warm breeze
Comfort to a love-weary soul
Spoke words like honey and oil
Dripping down the side of my neck
Covering all the places you kissed
Luxurious
And I was so tired of being strong
I think I know how Samson felt
In your arms the weight of the world fell off my shoulders
And I was just a woman
And you, a man
Finally, a man
Loving me, could make me forget
Could make me remember what mortality was like
Tenderness and vulnerability
It may have been foolish but the breathing was so much sweeter
With you there beside me
Knowing it wouldn’t last forever
I cherished each exhale
You took my strength
It may have been foolish
But I was willing
To put it all on the line
purpose power position promise
love life
For those moments
Your sweet
Rest
Samson and I
May have been foolish
But
We just wanted someone’s hands in our hair.
How Samson must have felt
You crept in
Like a warm breeze
Comfort to a love-weary soul
Spoke words like honey and oil
Dripping down the side of my neck
Covering all the places you kissed
Luxurious
And I was so tired of being strong
I think I know how Samson felt
In your arms the weight of the world fell off my shoulders
And I was just a woman
And you, a man
Finally, a man
Loving me, could make me forget
Could make me remember what mortality was like
Tenderness and vulnerability
It may have been foolish but the breathing was so much sweeter
With you there beside me
Knowing it wouldn’t last forever
I cherished each exhale
You took my strength
It may have been foolish
But I was willing
To put it all on the line
purpose power position promise
love life
For those moments
Your sweet
Rest
Samson and I
May have been foolish
But
We just wanted someone’s hands in our hair.
Well, hello... :)
Hello Good People!
Thanks for visiting. This is my first post, so I thought I'd briefly explain what this blog is all about...
I've never been much of a talker. Unlike some, it seems I wasn't born with the innate knowledge of how to share myself and make real connections with others, excepting a dear few. This has earned me several labels over the years: "shy," "quiet," "thoughtful," "uptight," "boring," "antisocial," "independent," "loner," "strong," etc. It was even suggested at one time that I simply didn't like people. (Harsh...) All of these were probably true at some point, at least a little. But none were as true as this: I am guarded. Fear -- not wisdom, meanness, or tactical self-preservation -- has always been the primary motivator behind my decisions to keep my lips sealed. I actually love people... I guess I just was never sure whether people would love me back, if they knew all that there was to know.
I don't think I want to be guarded anymore. Although I'm thankful for the years that my introverted side has had to stretch and develop, I think Life is trying to balance out my yin nature with a bit more yang. I'm ready.
For me, the decision to blog was a sort of self-prescribed therapy. Part of my personal expansion; an opening up to the world. Here you will find my experiences, opinions, interests and inspirations laid out as raw as possible, in many different forms. Feel free to comment, pose questions, drop love or whatever. I'd love to hear from you.
Here we go...
Love and peace,
Carmen
Thanks for visiting. This is my first post, so I thought I'd briefly explain what this blog is all about...
I've never been much of a talker. Unlike some, it seems I wasn't born with the innate knowledge of how to share myself and make real connections with others, excepting a dear few. This has earned me several labels over the years: "shy," "quiet," "thoughtful," "uptight," "boring," "antisocial," "independent," "loner," "strong," etc. It was even suggested at one time that I simply didn't like people. (Harsh...) All of these were probably true at some point, at least a little. But none were as true as this: I am guarded. Fear -- not wisdom, meanness, or tactical self-preservation -- has always been the primary motivator behind my decisions to keep my lips sealed. I actually love people... I guess I just was never sure whether people would love me back, if they knew all that there was to know.
I don't think I want to be guarded anymore. Although I'm thankful for the years that my introverted side has had to stretch and develop, I think Life is trying to balance out my yin nature with a bit more yang. I'm ready.
For me, the decision to blog was a sort of self-prescribed therapy. Part of my personal expansion; an opening up to the world. Here you will find my experiences, opinions, interests and inspirations laid out as raw as possible, in many different forms. Feel free to comment, pose questions, drop love or whatever. I'd love to hear from you.
Here we go...
Love and peace,
Carmen
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