Love is like water. Vast and mysterious. Hypnotizing. Some parts booming like rogue waves and just as unexpected. Other parts quiet and unassuming like a slow moving river. But just a beautiful. Just as full of life and wonder. Both necessities and brimming with secrets. Not every being can survive in every body of water. Love is equally as multifaceted. Such as the water that creates the oceans, we all need need love to survive, but very few give it the reverence it deserves. Polluting it with litter that kills everything fighting to survive inside of it. Few try to save it, others have given up and forgotten the phenomenon it once was.
But all is not lost. Though the problems it faces seems insurmountable, the ocean is vast. That's part of it's power. It's bigness. It's ability to be vulnerable in it's ferocity. As many forces are working against it, the ocean works to protect its inhabitants. For billions of years, despite meteors and hurricanes, even the most infinitesimal creatures are encouraged to blossom in its wonder.
Seems only waste and human ego are the ocean's...and love's only real enemies.
I've waded...waited through those waters. Warm and inviting...or frigid and unwelcoming. One love was an ocean. Grand in size. Immense in it's depth. When it was warm, I swam until my arms got tired, then floated on my back with the sun on my face. When the cold currents came in and shocked me, I fought for the pleasant warm waters from the past until frostbitten. Frozen in time. Trying to drift on a memory. I loved that ocean even when the waters weren't clear. I've encountered a stream, a puddle, a raindrop or two after that. But I haven't swam in years. Dampened by the humidity, happily knowing I'll never dip my toes in the ocean of the past again.
Love in all of its forms, is one of the most powerful forces on the planet. Romantic. Platonic. Familial. What you thought was love, but was really infatuation. Every aspect comes with its own lessons and gifts. Some lessons harder than others. Some gifts, more pleasant. The tides of love come in and recede. No matter the currents you've experienced before, never be afraid to swim
“Love is lak de sea. It’s uh movin’ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it’s different with every shore.”
― Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
...dig and be dug...
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Black, Magic Woman
They hear the tonality of your voice and are frightened by its strength
I revel in its melody
It rocked me to sleep and welcomed the sun to my face
Made me laugh away my tears and pulled me out of my own hiding place
The most fierce battle cry in war
And yet the sweetest taboo
Your roar brings the fire and your whisper calls the rain
Many dare try to force your silence
But your ancestral line would never allow it
They stand beside you like the invisible wind beneath the wings of a Phoenix
Carrying your power to all
Beckoning them to join in your crusade
When you warned them and they didn't listen, you turned your chorus into an aria and belted every note from your gut
Not missing a single note after the kicks and the bruises
They try their best
Loud threats
Tanks and guns
The audacity of pestilent imbeciles who call you out of your name
Even still
They know you can save them all
They know what's been given to you
That it can't be taken away
And even if you ascend to the position of the ones that came before you
They know there will be more
Sent from the same plane as you and the ones that gave you your gifts
And they will fight
With grace
On their own terms
You have been mistreated
Disrespected
Neglected
Shunned
Spat on and dismissed
Yet admired
All at once
They hurt you and then panhandle your mercy
Which you have offered
But only for a matter of time
The sand in the glass is moving quickly
You have been a force since the day God created you
You may bend
But you will never fold
...dig and be dug...
Friday, June 29, 2018
Worth the Break
I remember hearing the phrase "broken home" for the first time, realizing this person was talking about my family and being really upset. Seems small, but this ain't yo blog playa lol.
Growing up, I actually never really identified with the fact that for my entire childhood, my mother was a single mom which is a bit laughable because I accompanied both of my parents during their custody/visitation and child support court hearings. Just completely missed that whole thing in its entirety. Then she got engaged and the "hold thefuck up" hit me out of nowhere.
Anyway,
A love story:
After meeting at a skating rink and my father (unbeknownst to my mama) literally followed my mom to her physical therapy appointments just to leave flowers on her car windshield, my mama was wooed into a first date with this slightly younger man, that if nothing else, was persistent. Extremely persistent. This guy followed her to her appointments for WEEKS, but wasn't quick witted enough to leave a note with the flowers. So instead of being completely romanced, my mama was quite understandably, completely weirded out.
Eventually love came, followed by plans of marriage. My mother and father decided to get married at the courthouse. My mother, being the natural Claire Huxtable of a woman that she is, would not allow the simplicity of her planned nuptials to dim her flair for the fancy. She got a limo and a sweet white dress, a fancy hotel room for the after party and dinner reservations. This was to be an event to remember, for just the two of them.
However, the morning of their wedding day, my mother looked at my father, really looked at him, and recognized that he was not ready. They argued a bit about my mama's realization, but in the end they both knew she was right and they called the whole day off. A few weeks later they found out they would not have spent their romantic day alone anyway, because ya girl was in the building the whole time!
Now, I don't remember much of my parents being together as a couple, or even us living together as a family, which is probably why I never recognized my mama as a single parent afterwards. But from what I remember of their infrequent but notable arguments, them staying together for "the sake of the child" would have caused more damage than I can imagine. I will always appreciate the fact that my parents saw that they were amazing at creating a human life together, but not the best life partners for each other.
I suppose that's why I get so offended by the idea that those homes with only one parent are somehow broken. Because at this point, you're talking about my mama and my daddy.
First, imagine folks minding their own, personal, business. Realize that it'll never happen and move on. Secondly, imagine people using their God given, common sense. Then, imagine those same people placing the sanity and future of their young child over their own wishes to not be single. Realizing that a child can have access to both parents, even if they don't live together as long as both parents are willing is possible! Just as a parent can be in the same home as their child and be wholly detached from them.
Don't get me wrong, my dad could have done a few things differently and missed out on quite a few things, most notably to me, my high school graduation. Did that hurt? Yes. But growing up in an environment not surrounded by angst and anger allowed me to talk to him about it and heal from it. Guess who was the first to show up to my graduation from college? My daddy also drove from Pennsylvania to New Jersey at 5 AM on a Tuesday when I was in 7th grade because a teacher accused me of forgery and made me cry. He had to carry my mother out over his shoulder because it got way too real in that classroom but, I'll explain the beauty of my mama's gangsta at a later date. I didn't even know he made the trip until I got home from school that day.
My daddy has his faults. So does my mama. Putting their child before themselves is not one of them. I never identified with the idea that if one less parent lived in your home, your home is "broken". The beauty in this entire story is honesty. Real honesty. Not waiting until shit hits the fan, but working things out and letting things go before the hurt festers into another generation. I'm forever indebted to my parents for telling me stories of their topsy turvy love affair and not letting it crash and burn in front of me.
I struggle to envision the relationship I'd have with love if it weren't for my "broken home".
...dig and be dug...
Growing up, I actually never really identified with the fact that for my entire childhood, my mother was a single mom which is a bit laughable because I accompanied both of my parents during their custody/visitation and child support court hearings. Just completely missed that whole thing in its entirety. Then she got engaged and the "hold the
Anyway,
A love story:
After meeting at a skating rink and my father (unbeknownst to my mama) literally followed my mom to her physical therapy appointments just to leave flowers on her car windshield, my mama was wooed into a first date with this slightly younger man, that if nothing else, was persistent. Extremely persistent. This guy followed her to her appointments for WEEKS, but wasn't quick witted enough to leave a note with the flowers. So instead of being completely romanced, my mama was quite understandably, completely weirded out.
Eventually love came, followed by plans of marriage. My mother and father decided to get married at the courthouse. My mother, being the natural Claire Huxtable of a woman that she is, would not allow the simplicity of her planned nuptials to dim her flair for the fancy. She got a limo and a sweet white dress, a fancy hotel room for the after party and dinner reservations. This was to be an event to remember, for just the two of them.
However, the morning of their wedding day, my mother looked at my father, really looked at him, and recognized that he was not ready. They argued a bit about my mama's realization, but in the end they both knew she was right and they called the whole day off. A few weeks later they found out they would not have spent their romantic day alone anyway, because ya girl was in the building the whole time!
Now, I don't remember much of my parents being together as a couple, or even us living together as a family, which is probably why I never recognized my mama as a single parent afterwards. But from what I remember of their infrequent but notable arguments, them staying together for "the sake of the child" would have caused more damage than I can imagine. I will always appreciate the fact that my parents saw that they were amazing at creating a human life together, but not the best life partners for each other.
I suppose that's why I get so offended by the idea that those homes with only one parent are somehow broken. Because at this point, you're talking about my mama and my daddy.
First, imagine folks minding their own, personal, business. Realize that it'll never happen and move on. Secondly, imagine people using their God given, common sense. Then, imagine those same people placing the sanity and future of their young child over their own wishes to not be single. Realizing that a child can have access to both parents, even if they don't live together as long as both parents are willing is possible! Just as a parent can be in the same home as their child and be wholly detached from them.
Don't get me wrong, my dad could have done a few things differently and missed out on quite a few things, most notably to me, my high school graduation. Did that hurt? Yes. But growing up in an environment not surrounded by angst and anger allowed me to talk to him about it and heal from it. Guess who was the first to show up to my graduation from college? My daddy also drove from Pennsylvania to New Jersey at 5 AM on a Tuesday when I was in 7th grade because a teacher accused me of forgery and made me cry. He had to carry my mother out over his shoulder because it got way too real in that classroom but, I'll explain the beauty of my mama's gangsta at a later date. I didn't even know he made the trip until I got home from school that day.
My daddy has his faults. So does my mama. Putting their child before themselves is not one of them. I never identified with the idea that if one less parent lived in your home, your home is "broken". The beauty in this entire story is honesty. Real honesty. Not waiting until shit hits the fan, but working things out and letting things go before the hurt festers into another generation. I'm forever indebted to my parents for telling me stories of their topsy turvy love affair and not letting it crash and burn in front of me.
I struggle to envision the relationship I'd have with love if it weren't for my "broken home".
...dig and be dug...
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
For the Record
Happy New Year!
So much for consistency, right?
Haha...
Anyway..
The year of our Lord, 2017, has come to and end and 2018 has happened upon us like a great new dawn. I've seen quite a few people talk about 2017 with great dismay, but I don't have the same sentiment. For me, 2017 like many other years since entering (what can be) the great abyss of adulthood, was equal parts bitter and sweet.
Ignoring the incompetence of the one who's name shall not be mentioned and the idiocy of both his cronies and supporters, I have no complaints. And if I did, I wouldn't be beneficial to me or you, for that matter, at all. Did I attend the funeral of someone who meant and means a great deal to me? Yes. But she was in pain and it would be selfish of me to wish her to endure that pain any longer just to avoid my own grief.
Was I forced to walk away from a relationship full of potential? Yes. But potential means nothing if there's nothing else there. Who looks forward to potential, anyway? That's like saying "Ooh girl, I can't wait to get home to my man that might be good for me one day eventually perhaps at some point in time whenever that may be. Hopefully." No thank you.
And though those things may have made me sad, your girl bought a house that she loves and has created time and space to focus on her passions. For the past few years I dealt with seasonal depression and tried to keep myself busy doing whatever I could put my hands on in order to distract myself from the inevitable. (How do you MENTALLY distract yourself from your BRAIN. Don't try it. It doesn't work. Take my word for it.) But I've learned, through recent experience, that for me it's not good enough to just be distracted. Depression can empty you and it's necessary to replace whatever's taken away with something of substance. Pouring back into yourself is a necessity. My job still frustrates the hell out of me for a vast assortment of reasons, but I've been making a conscious decision to not let folks get over. I leave work at work and remind myself that this place is a means to and end and not my forever. I started taking classes and exploring new ways to express my creativity because at this point, being creative is what fulfills me the most.
Anywho, 2017 taught me a lot about myself. I'm starting to feel like a grown lady. I'm excited about my 30th time around the sun and all the good that's possible. Have an amazing 2018, errbody! And as always...
dig and be dug...
So much for consistency, right?
Haha...
Anyway..
The year of our Lord, 2017, has come to and end and 2018 has happened upon us like a great new dawn. I've seen quite a few people talk about 2017 with great dismay, but I don't have the same sentiment. For me, 2017 like many other years since entering (what can be) the great abyss of adulthood, was equal parts bitter and sweet.
Ignoring the incompetence of the one who's name shall not be mentioned and the idiocy of both his cronies and supporters, I have no complaints. And if I did, I wouldn't be beneficial to me or you, for that matter, at all. Did I attend the funeral of someone who meant and means a great deal to me? Yes. But she was in pain and it would be selfish of me to wish her to endure that pain any longer just to avoid my own grief.
Was I forced to walk away from a relationship full of potential? Yes. But potential means nothing if there's nothing else there. Who looks forward to potential, anyway? That's like saying "Ooh girl, I can't wait to get home to my man that might be good for me one day eventually perhaps at some point in time whenever that may be. Hopefully." No thank you.
And though those things may have made me sad, your girl bought a house that she loves and has created time and space to focus on her passions. For the past few years I dealt with seasonal depression and tried to keep myself busy doing whatever I could put my hands on in order to distract myself from the inevitable. (How do you MENTALLY distract yourself from your BRAIN. Don't try it. It doesn't work. Take my word for it.) But I've learned, through recent experience, that for me it's not good enough to just be distracted. Depression can empty you and it's necessary to replace whatever's taken away with something of substance. Pouring back into yourself is a necessity. My job still frustrates the hell out of me for a vast assortment of reasons, but I've been making a conscious decision to not let folks get over. I leave work at work and remind myself that this place is a means to and end and not my forever. I started taking classes and exploring new ways to express my creativity because at this point, being creative is what fulfills me the most.
Anywho, 2017 taught me a lot about myself. I'm starting to feel like a grown lady. I'm excited about my 30th time around the sun and all the good that's possible. Have an amazing 2018, errbody! And as always...
dig and be dug...
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