This new life I live sick and missing something that never existed a love affair that lived in my head. Will never be in love I feel. Never be the heartbeat of a man like you were for me. i can’t see it happening. Confined to just this but tonight as I close my eyes I remember what it was in my heart. How I clung to the moments that we did have. the times that we did share and my heartbeat changes. I hate that you still have this control over me. Your suppossed to come to see me the man that controlled my pulse. The only man that i ever connected with in any way. But i guess you loved all others. i was never exactly good eough for you. It didn.t break me.. It just made me blieve that love did exist because even today how I have felt for yu makes me believe in what love can be. As i sit here in the bed that keeps me daily in rememrance of the fact that a brain tumor has changed my life the course of my understanding i think of you. It’s ione of those things that you have to just sdmit happen to me. i looved you. you never loved e but the love I felt for you changed me. Your suppossed to come visit in these days.. I wonder if you will make it to me.. see me in all the ugly o feel. Sick not able to live behind the long hair i use to have. Increasingly overweight from the steroids. All my fears wrapped into one situation. At one time you told me that I lived hehind my long curly hair that the person I was seemed consumed in this. As I live through this I think of yu daily the person that I was you knew. I actually did love you the broken man you really were. I guess in the black and white of it you taught me more aabout myself than i ever knew. As I fight this cancer.. I think of you daily.. Not because of the feelings I had for you but because of the care you really did give to me. You looked at me tht day so long ago now and you said omething ws wrong. It was one of the reasons that I went to the doctor… yet you know me.. my intution strong. yet I have missed you, kissed the feeling of liethat you did give me. You were never good for me. Yet youwere weren’t bad for me either. I wait for you because whent he days end love of any kind is a gift ad I am not afraid t admit that my love for you ran deep, it was the only love I feel nI eer truly felt. i did love a woman for many years trying to qwell the issues i had with my mother an I will never take away from that love. It was a love that took a lot of years in my life and the experience was just as real as the one that I felt for you. It lasted longer was never one sided. It shaped alot of the person that I have become but I can’t compare it to the depth of feeling I felt for you. You showed me tht to connect with a person on so many levels is possible. The thing we sared was a deep intricate friendship that lost it’s footing went to far. It still touches parts of me I wished it couldn’t. All the people that have come to visit me, all the people who love me I still wait to see your face. A face I don’t even find that handsome. A man that I wouldn’t even be proud to say that I know. Yet you changed me. In the midst of a lifetime that I am not exactly proud to even say that I know. I am not going to lie you impacted me.. The person that I am today ia majorly do to the time that we spent together. Whether it was perfect or not we connected. We were in thd least the best of friends. The last time we saw each other before my life drastically changed you were the one that noticed that something about me had changed. You loved me in your way in the best way you could, in the best way that someone like you could love me. In the honesty of this moment I should have listened sooner, maybe they would have caught it sooner but thank you to whatever you were to me because not much later I did listen and I am still here fighting. I am still giving faith to my God. Sometimes the things that we do experience is just to make us stronger and you made me stronger. the hurt, the cfonnection, the everything. The things that I did feel let me understand what love did feel like. I did love you. As I rememeber th pain of seeing you love other woman instead of the one that held you down, the one that gave without trepidation, the one who gave heart soul and body, it hurt yet it made me a fighter prepared me for these days here. This is the fight of my life, this is the cause of my existence to make it through this. So I pray, I keep my mind occupied, I try to believe that it is all for a testimony that God has set out in front of me. All the things that I worried about seems to be fading in the illness. It has built me to be a better version of myself. In my illness I see us for what we really were for what we were not and a part of me doesn’t want to see anything more than another past so that I can paint another future. Yet love is something that truly may be missed on a life that I will live so I give my truth regardless of how stupid it makes me look you were the closest thing I got to it other than her and I’m starting to see what you saw when you met her. A woman that didn’t regard me in a way that worthy not of me yet you both were so similar when I look back I see maybe I didn’t love myself the way I should have. Now that I’m here I look to you in a way that I wan’t to be reminded of yhe things you would tell me. Even in the hurt that I felt in loving you, I have to admit that the best love that you did give to me was helping to build this person that is able to wake up every day ad have thea ttitude that will still fight with all she has. I wait for the friend that I do have in you. That is all we were meant to be. I see that now and with that closure in my heart I am able to embrace you. I am able to see the man you truly are. Every woman wants a great love.. I am no different. The truth is I am only this a woman who in her illess is living her greatest fears. I am bigger than I ever was… the only reason I ever did any drug to keep the pounds at ay. God is teaching me the lessons the hard way. I ran from my mother to be here with her daily, lived beyond the vanity of my beautiful long hair to now have one. This is the greatest lesson that I COULD have experienced. See today life is right in my face in a major way. These are things you have told me be the things that we spoke of years ago are here now. I know things of us you never heard or accepted but now I see that you can’t make someone feel or see something that they just don’t so now i just accept you as you are for everything that you are or are not. I had to do it for myself. In the midst of love that is all you can do right. So I will wait for you to arrive as I know you coming to say yur piece to see the woman you told to check that foot out……
Tag Archives: hope
“We are going to drill a hole” with those words I left behind misconceptions, decided that faith has to be the leading thought. I can’t live in the fear that grips the heart of a person and I won’t. I will be this woman that I have grown to be. As I look back at all the days I have cried. All the days that I have let fear lead me.. I find myself evolved in the face of death and I feel pride. So proud of myself. In these days I have felt so much love and support… this is something that I have prayed for. to be closer to my family. To cultivate the type of relationships that last beyond death. When you have lived the kind of life I have, your course of purpose will be in others minds, tainted, sometime thwarted with mingles of bad choices, or executed decisions that are not in your best interest. So while I have sat here in The world renowned… UCLA Medical Center… family, old friends and doctors… all looking to me for my next play… I don’t have anything to say but bring it on course has been drawn. Fear is not an option, direction, drive and making the best is the hour of power.
Lost in the forest, alot of us are just that for a good portion of life. If your like my sister aware and sure and ready to prove a point, maybe you wouldn’t be able to understanding a little girl pink, lost in the forest of her thoughts, waiting for life to show her it can be kind, honest, and steady. I choose a stead path of bad choices and ill advised connections. That’s what the average person would tell you. From the stands of my life that’s all they would be able to see, but this is a cross country meet, no 440 dash. No tennis game and definitely no basketball. Maybe a good match up on the grid iron. Padded up and definitely in need of a defensive line, I the quarter back, have been sacked many times, yet some how, I am apple to get back in the huddle. Today a few decades ago I was born, a sweet girl I have been told. Yet no 32 years later I have become something much different. I grew up with my mom, a woman with a sharp tongue, and a not so great emotional compass. She was harsh and selfish, and never changed. I have told this story so many times it’s begun to bleed it’s unmportance. I am a crier, I always have been this way, and before I knew better I would allow people who didn’t understand why I cried to tell me that I shouldn’t cry. But I really don’t give a fuck. My tears calm me, they remind that as quixkly ad I was hurt or angered, I can just as quickly fogive, let go and move I have also been told that believe my mean as momma owes me something. And she does, my respect and to treat me decently because these are human rights. Everybody owes every one this regardless of age, nationality, sex or any other thing else we use as fucking scape goats to be cruel and unkind and mean to other people. There was also a time that I didn’t say much when people did cross these boundaries, I would cower into my own little corners and cry, but being in the world the way I have been, was definitely a school of experience and it did toughen me up… but it didn’t cool my heart any, didn’t wsh away any of my commpassion. Everyone tried to explain how I was crazy and naive and how I needed to learn how to do this or that, without really knowing me at all. That family I have been chasing behind has left me drier than any stranger, told more lies and kept me more hidden than any stranger in my life has dared. A couple of years ago on my 30th birthday, I was staying with my mom, not willingly then, it was a necessiy because the home I had made for myself was ripped from underneath me over a fight about a DVR… a physical fight with my so called sister. By my birthday in 2011, the year I turned 30 I was on my moms couch, I had just quit a job where they treated the employees like they were nothing more than the fleas deposited on dogs to make them run. I had unemployment insurance on the way, and my birthday had dawned with dawn. I swiped my moms keys drove the long trek to LONG BEACH, Ca. Saw a friend, got my drug of choice and made the drive back home. My mother was nice enough to take me to dinner. LIke I said she didn’t do much for my birthday after 18. I had come to realize that who she was after they told her she had to be was much different than the person she attempted to be. Well from that time until August of last year I lived with my mom pretty much on and off. Normally I did everything to not live with her but I finally gave in when a close friend became to worried and I had to go back home or I would have either ended up dead or in jail. I had been partying to the extreme, to put it nicely. By the time I returned home for the long haul it was about October of 2012 give or take a couple of weeks. When I went home it was clear she didnt want me there and being there was not the option of oh doing better pulling my life around. At that point I wasn’t thinkiing about doing anything but writing the book I had been talking about for so long. I was using my drug of choice by then and an upside was being able to focus for long periods of time. I used that gift to my advantage. I was on my moms couch and my sister who had previously fought me for the dvr that she was getting for free no doubt lived just a few walking blocks away. She is my moms eldest and I say favorite daughter who still had an active restraining order. It’s funny how now when I am reprimanded for how I once again need a place to stay, everyone forget’s the many days lead up to it. Well as my best friend told me, make it right with your sister and so I did. And not only did I make it right, I went beyond that. I was given another chance to mend my begotten relationships, the ones I had left to roast and dry on the grill of people I cared to embrace. I had learned alot on my road and truth fully how I behaved, my consequences and the world changed my outlook, I appreciated that I had a family at all so I set out to treat it that way. I did everything I could and it seemed to work. I was closer to one of my sister, my mom was not yelling as much because I was not yelling as much. All this love and closeness I actually began to talk about the days and months that they were not in my life, I told the truth about my journey. I was wrong. They used it against me… and on August first everyone had moved out but me. Seeing as though I couldn’t pay the rent myself and no where local to go I left and moved to MD with my best friend. I didn’t love MD but I loved that I was able to rebuild my life.. yet my new life was suddenly a consequence of my past when my offerto be a permanent employee for a major healthcare company was retracted and I was left with a few hundred dollars a month of rent and nothing to go on. My background and my four charges all misdemeanors, had bitten me in the fresh ripe booty that I had acquired for myself. I had to make a decision so I made the decision to come home. I actually loved my job. Didn’t like MD much but loved the freedom my job gave me to be Independent and without the help of anyone. . When I was young I had that same thing because my mother refused to help very early on, however I didn’t maintain it do to being to heavy with things to soon, I broke free, got into a relationship that changed my life, separated me from noticing that my family didn’t really step up. My friends had long since become my family anyway. Things got really bad in 2007, from then until 2009 it was a crazy cold world,but in hindsight those years I never felt alone , or as though I was not loved. Something I am today. I love myself more today, and alone has become a comfort, but that was the aftermath of so much drama it burned the bridge to normalcy. I teetered with drugs, school, jail and continiously went to work. There was a birthday in 2009 4 years ago that I moved into yet another apartment trying to get away from my mom. Now here it is 4 years later and I have lived independently the entire time except for that half a year last year in which I spent 90 percent of my days, cleaning, writing, cooking, caring for my sister, giving my nephew some me time. and showing my mother that not only could I change but that I had changed, it was my life that happened. I was happy for a short while, but something happened early on, before I moved in, in October// I house sit for my other sister. I was free from my mother for a weekend and there was car here and I drove it.. I was told I stole some journey. Costume jewelry. I brought the car back, and I brought the fake jewelry back to and I actually did feel bad because the breaks seemed to messed up when I brought the car back from one two days of driving, jlike I had driven with the parking park up, which might have been a possible accident. I felt bad because well the car was nieces car and these people I hadnt done anything to so they say… but the truth is the only person I really ever did anything to was my mom, And I told her I did it immediately/ So this would mark the second incident. MY sisters husband made sure I felt like the shit that is underneath shit and only lived in the constant aroma of the shit it manifested. I apologized and stayed away. I loved this sister most because of what she represented. Not exactly what I wanted but what I admired. Something I never really had and that’s commitment and longevity to her life. she continued with many years of school, with the same man. I admired that and mostly because whenever I did try to be close to my family she was the person I tried with so when her whole family dissed me except for my niece of course I was sad, but angry because people so quikcly forget there wrongs and as soon as you are the mistake induced, the problem maker, they become someone who can throw bricks at your glass house. I took that verbal beating time and time again and I apologized with my whole heart. whern I moved to MD I told few people because I didn’t want to hurt my own feelings. When I was gone I missed my family, even though I had been missing them for most of my life. I missed other things to, but mostly the weaher and them or maybe I missed my friends more than anything but I still spoke to them, they still called.
With losing my job that I actually loved so much last month, coming home… JI knew today which is my favorite day of the year was going to be a little bittersweet, I would cry some, I would laugh some, but I didn’t think I would be here in my sisters house with her words in my ear tthat I needed to listen to what she was saying, and how I need to establish myself and a reminder that I took her daughters care and she would have never believed I would do that (which I am sure she could because not ot much younger than me she stole the car alot. I was little and there) but at 30 she had a family.. and prior to her fahers mother dying she also had a grandma that got her car and she never felt the way I did. I wasn’t able to go to school and work it was to much for me.. and when I had to choose I choose work. Maybe I should have done better, more education, more privileges, butI wouldn’t be me, who will be able to say. NOpe wont do that again, and no I would never treat somebody that way and mean it. I don’t believe in speaking at people like they don’t matter or raising my voice to prove a point, and if you think I am weak because I chose not to engage your hurtful words and ill mannered responses, At 32 I may not have a family, or the best job or anything else tangible that would mark my success in the worldly world based on things, and money. However I have a resilience that is larger than any of the addictions I have endured, my heart is kind and knowing. When I speak I speak of great knowledge and intelligence. I do cry, at movies, when I am happy, when I am sad, when I miss someone, when I feel touched by the spirit. I cry because they would tell me not to as a little girl, I cry because my tears are my prayers, i cry because when my emotions do become jumbled and heavy and I feel like I will never make the strides I want to make, I go ahead and cry and God hears my prayers. Even when no one else does. Today my sister did what I hate most in the world which she clearly did nt know was the thing I hate most. she told me how I felt. I may not have much of anything to stake materially for these years, but I have had places to live, and cars, I have traveled and now I even did what I didn’t think I would do, I moved far away for a while. That little pink girl in the forest is not the business kind she is the creative kind. All love and emotion and clearly a penchant for the wild side. Im thank ful for the door that has been opened for me here but I am beginning to realize that while it appears to be for me, it’s not. I stay out of there way, but me being alone in the back room is rude and strange. Yet they don’t realize that this has been my life… Alone and at my own pace, even when I did visit home my mother would keep to herself. My sister and I did spend time alot but alone we would go. I have no children, I write and I have a life to rebuild. So I may spend alot of time alone Until it happens? Not as thin or as attractive as my sisters, the man who loves me will not overlook my overly aggressive voice or my extremely youthful face. He will see me, and even if that is just my perception of my imperfections talking, I will be a person worth her flaws and working to improve those as well. Character is nurtured daily and a choice. No one has to worry about me doing anything wrong that is outside my personal decisions. I am going to be okay… God is not finished with me yet. I know he is not. I didn’t and don’t want to be here but I know he is about to make it clear why I am. and Until it Happens. I am going to be who I am, not what they think.. which is far from ture… My mother owe me somehing, the only person she owes is herself… a cllue and the truth. She doesn;t have to know me… I tried. Ask around, to the people who actually have been around and they will tell you. A’Nya is going to be okay and until it happens just watch…. never what u except
The year is moving rapidly, peddling through the days at warped speeds, the past moving so far behind I wonder if moments actually happened or if it’s just my imagination. My memories are becoming weary. Faded pictures lost in the composites of my thoughts. Inspiration lost to the mundane of daily living and I wonder if the pen I use to rely on so much, the pen that fueled my sanity in the middle of chaos is no longer my closest ally and I wonder if I am lost in the right, preferring to wind up my thoughts in the bad. Emotion seems fleeting, and passion gone, lost to just making sure the bills are paid. Making sure work is the priority for each day. Visions of my past haunt me with temptation. Temptation to see the swirling smoke of my old negative choices. I miss my piercing mind numbing intoxicants. Yet they are gone, never to return again and I feel that. Feel that old friend sitting along side my pen and I feel as though parts of me have died. The permanence of death dangles in the aftermath of change. Have traded sunny days for 1500 days of winter cold. Moved from the west to the east. Have traded bad choices for better understandings. The dark side of positive change, is the expectations of stability and maintaining the days you have now built. That bridge from what is to what can be to what was. The fear of admittance is strong, deliberate and penetrating. Yet it will not still the beauty of what is. The beauty of the change that brings smiles to those around me, those who vowed love for me, and then the naysayers. The ones that linger in those visions of the past I have escaped. They are ones who make it easy to leave behind what is missed. Making those longing moments only short fleeting moments. Faith is strong, and fear can be stronger. Combining the two makes those visions just faded pictures seen only to the thoughts that don’t transpire
if we filled each entertaining moment with a choice of family programming I think we might be better for it. Did you ever notice that the Original Disney Movie, and the Original ABC family movie, teach lessons of love with fortitude. Love is a word that I have known since my earliest days of memories. It dates back in my lifetime periodicals far before I knew anything of dislike, disdain or even understood the magnitude of pain. I don’t remember to much programming or tv from the early formidable years except for Shelly Long, Troop Beverly Hills Hello Again, Troop Beverly Hills, Splash, and Highway to Heaven which is a very stellar movie, and of course She’s Out of Control. One thing that all these memories locked away in my heart is the overwhelming importance of love, sacrifice and hope. This year I have begun to embrace life with a new zest, a new outlook and definitely a new intent. Love is this amazing thing, and us people, we are equally as extraordinary. Maybe if we spent less time lusting for a greedy life, a greedy existence of desire, and dulling of senses for the sense of physical pleasures we would find our true smile, our true hope hiding behind the most simplicity that life can provide. The answers we seek to our most internal peace are taught to us in the most beautiful of things in our childhood. In friendships, in first love notes. We learn these behaviors of misery, of disdain, and envy. We learn manipulation of spirit of emotion around about school days when we feel the first nudges of distance from other people. For as beautiful as our hearts are as small children, at home we soak up in most days all the love a little person can hope for even when our homes are not exactly as life states it should be. We go off to school and other peoples views of us become an important part of our world, and we want them to love us the same way, we want friends to be so full and fruitful, we want to have allies. Yet the older we grow and the more we understand, the more complicated it becomes. We beat down possibility with out the humbleness of being children. Did you know how much God is those happy family movies. So much it burst from the screen and sometimes the tears that begin in our eyes our tear ducts become waterfalls of understanding and change and we are touched. I might be a little shy to say this but I live for the moments to feel things, to be moved to emotion, to be apart of how love can change a thought, open a closed door to a forgiving heart. Be apart of making your own Original Disney Movie, apply your adult lesson plan to this school of life that never stops teaching. Be hopeful, be peaceful, be brave, be full of life and be full of love. Enjoy life without the greed to be better, the greed to be seen, the greed that keeps you feeding on misery.
Lies memories of lost hurt and pain Yet behind closed eyes lives the possible possibility possibly? I know that is up to me what I keep and is left on the other side of the mountain. Hope for better for true love in all types and stages.
As a woman I live in an understanding of my emotional culture. With each documented moment I live binding a library of books of my experiences. Something I find on my journey are moments of interaction with men in my community some of them from homes broken and others from families assembled by time and others in the traditional make up. The black man has been the consequence of negativity and forlorn thought. The black man is an elusive entity of strength and as the community of my peers evolve from young men to men it’s most powerful era I look at the elegance of transistion and the opposition of being a legacy of decisions that maybe the men before them took. I am a woman and I like other little black girls were left to become women without the presence of a man in the home. Yet as God provides me the gift of his love he has shown me the new understanding of the black man who has shed the heavy coat of prejudice and the cotton of a too hot life when trying to get to a moderately comfortable temperature in there atmosphere of being the man on the outside of privilege. These arriving men whom I have named arriving because through the storms of history and disrespect and the lack of support These men truly need they still come through those foggy moments hoping and trying their best. They even arrive to the storms of us loud talking, strong willed, fatherless and fathered mess of understanding women.. Yet as a woman sometimes loving that man who needs so much love is hard but see him as arriving.. Why? Today I hear more men say… I have full custody of my baby… insert son and alot more in my world insert daughter. They breathe for these children, facing the disappointment of being not enough or not having enough in the dank aftermath of heated summers of no lemonade stands and no baseball games on shoulders of that elder likeness and those of us who live amongst the on the streets of father non-applicable to me… cuz I don’t know my daddy we know the pain of being apart of a single parent home and feel the strain of traits not owned by mommy. We are the generation of change and we are changing our outlook and we are fighting loudly with the access of technology,,,, I am proud of us regardless of these colored skin suits. And I know in the colonies of different hues lives homes broken and children hearts broken by the choices of those who are our key to lifetimes of lifelines that teach us how we think, and live and celebrate life.
SO it’s for the man arriving in your world as well, those colored life coffee, deep and brown those with layered choices with skin so bright and illuminating, those have culture built in this soil, their heritage with their land stolen… so do not be left out. Yet my fondness for these men made so much like me with deep brown skin, shadowed eyes and hearts of solid beaming gold left hidden with cavities of teflon. My little boys who have taken the stereotypes and made them enterprises, took the grid irons and concrete courts from games to headlines and fame. Those growing boys turned men with need to fight and survive instead of drive and arrive are still beating down the hot block with hearts that want to be home, want to know those kids even when they laid down to be incarcerated by women who still have the learned lesson that men leave… don’t believe, don’t grieve, left to live with pain than to have it eased. SO many days they sit with breaths caught in chest hoping to slang enough, dunk enough, take enough to be the present father and not just the donor who fertilized a egg with his seed.
Yes I want you to be the best man you can be, yet I also see the struggle and desire to aid you in knowing your worth and those small things also mean something. The desire, the attempt, the faith, the hope, the strength and the experience you both show, and provide bleed your love. As women we can nurture those strengths. Your power is in the love you feel, the meal you cook to quell the hunger, the sex you indulge in to show him the importance and need to not just your heart but your body. The love they so seldom vocalize but will always show in their resounding baritone as they ask where we have been, if the oil has been checked, how they will walk on the outside, and do their best to apply what they have never learned but know in their hearts is right. Just the fight to live will show how much many desire to not be the stagnant typed without the stereo for its never displayed how much it hurts to have to say, not applicable and does not apply when it comes to the language we can’t identify whether it be fatherly or motherly love. This community of strength taught to survive… we need to learn how to thrive, be our own resource of love… Move away from the belief that we must be the dog that dined on the dog of circumstance. Must unite if you want to fight and win.
A generation passed full of daddy’s rolling by home home to collect stones they were made to believed were jewels…NO HOME IS WITHOUT IT”S STRUGGLE… and no parent meant to create and mold life alone. These men are a special breed, descendents of man made Achilles heels, robbed of identity, used as common artillery, bred to do the work of building empires of which they could not call home and while slavery had died on the dark hot tar we call pavement… it has already been paved and if not actively fought will remain submerged in hate.
No this is not about slavery for we are each free. wanting to make a loud noise in the sake of revolution to be another block of words strung together about being the victim looking on to the inside with too much fear, too much pride and just enough anger to be forced to grow. I am a woman among many women with matching skin id’s and similar history, The women who love these black men, lets us the be their place of love make his house his home so he leave behind his spot, his crib , make our homes kingdoms. Not with things but with those jewels of love… we call them support, trust, forgiveness, loyalty, kindness, tolerance and self control. Let us use our action of physical love with fortitude and and be the woman who sees his heart and chooses it above all. Yes we women have pains and hurts, yet me make the time whether right or wrong to sing our song, some constant singing his wrongs. Each replay comes with a fine of his worth, and time for he sees your pain and despite what all continue to think… a man in love with a woman in love with him… is not afraid to speak freely when she wears her priceless jewels daily and shows him the ultimate jewel is him.
… why do you think these men stay with you even when love didn’t build that home. Even as your belittle his masculinity instead of just telling him your pain. Why do you think they are not so quick to divulge in (sorry about my language) sharing the true power of his magic wand , his sword you’re so quick to use in a scheme to shut you down.. ONce it’s been offered you no longer hold the cards… he already has part of your heart. In no way am I taking away the power of a woman, a black woman who might look something like me…
I know your pain, I know your need… and part of our want is based on that man you desire… so open your eyes and see him arriving and love him gently. Promote his power in your world, Provide a safe place for his emotional vulnerability so he may use it has the secret weapons to slay his enemies and practice love in your words, needs, and actions… Show him that even know love has its flaws and you certainly don’t take lies, abuse, or negativity. Just do it the way love would.
For the world in which he lives and struggles to be seen as a equal… befriend him… he is a man just as you… regardless of the clothes he wears, his choice of song, his difference in opinion. He is like you really the only difference is his flavor. Regardless he is arriving, from shallow graves of mis conception, perception , and infectious outbreaks of humanity and their ignorant thinking.
To be inspired is something that runs beyond the moment of being inspired but the beauty in the work or the action. I have heard that the greatest of success is not in the wins, the victories or even in the acclaim or recognition. It’s in the beauty of the power that loving something so much can emanate the type of personal interest in doing that you touch the heart of someone else to move, to try, to risk. The possibility in greatness is a value of love not ability or worthiness for so many great people worthy of award, of change of second chances lost the game. The game of living is cold, harsh with policy unknown to us. We have gifts, talents, that a lot of us don’t use do to fear, circumstance or even just like of belief in the power of the gift given.
To lose belief in anything is tragic and worthy of streaming tears yet to lose belief in your own gift, your own power is the thing that settles in the belly of your spirit. At the other end to revive belief in the belly of a gift lives the trust in it, the hope for it and the need for it to breathe to live,to grow and to show your stuff. A little bravado is not ego, and is needed. The beauty in having that bravado means that you are courageous and have the guts to make a change, to stand outside the normality of conforming and really really finding the fight you need to truly finish the road that you must finish,
All the mediums of creativity in this New World calls for different tribes of warriors to do the work of good, to promote the messages of humanity. In finding the journey to courage we must be open to change, to experience, to failure and to the unexplainable. To be inspired to find true and give true inspiration you must be available for the miracle that it is. To allow the rush of cool to tickle your skin and hear your heart begin a thump of thunder that resounds echos in the tunnels of your ears and you are motivated, rejuvenated, you are emancipated… you feel as tho the shackles that bound you to your fears, to your deprivation of thought; of action; have been shaken loose. Leaving you pink with desire, the fire burning so deep within you it glows touching the very essence of your soul. When the soul illuminates it’s shine will allow light to seep in to those dark places that ricochet that light in to strangers and you know it’s at that moment that greatness has begun. That kind of beauty only comes from the bravery of love. That love that closes doors late into the night hiding kisses wicked with lust, adoration and respect is so very parallel to the love of your belief your goals and your dreams. For to desire to do one thing with your life is a true love affair that does not know wrong doings, or keep account of disappointments and strives on nothing more than hope, and honesty. As I speak of endlessly an artist is a thing of passion a progress of commitment and bears the heavy beauty of exclusivity and monogamy.
I fell in love a long time ago before my first sentence was completed before my heart was broken before I lost my belief in the beauty of bread being healthy. I feel in love with feeling the edges and centers of white college ruled paper and using colored pens with inks they fill the rainbow with thousands of strokes and before words were a reality I just waved it until it began to make a pattern of the vibrations i could not articulate on these rough edged tablets of my thoughts. I knew what it was and how it worked but I had not found the way to do so. Then I was writing and it was the most love I had shown to anything and as a woman beginning I was ahead of the game yet so sure of my desire to dirty those little white sheets of heaven. As years passed I began the descent of the humanity of dreams… The human understanding of child like beliefs. That adults do and children dream. My pen became a hobby but the law was the lucky answer opposite doc in primary school and I accumulated to the likes of the group instead of the fire in me. Like most of those in tis world who create they experience and my experience caused me lose belief in the power of individuality and I just wanted to be accepted and it was weird unatural to want to write in the 2nd grade and I traded it for whatever felt best the second time around if dreams really never became more than day dreams. I still see myself in those part time suits litigating for the unprotected and saving souls and lives. It really is a cop out for still being afraid of nobody liking the things I write, of not completing the work that I wanted to finish but believing in myself. Things got better with help of friends reading and then loving it and of course believing the hype is kind of hard when they all love you anyway but there was a nay sayer of me that became a affirmative definite and concrete believer of my words. He was not my friend and definitely didn’t have accolades of me personally yet one night as he laid in the bed next to my roommate with her heart running circles around his aloof relationship behavior I began to rant of their “Situation” and the end of the foggy tunnel that seemed to engulf me he said words that will stick close to my idea of perfection in confirmation left me wondering thinking if talent was not objective or subjective in totality yet a lot perceived emotion. This has nothing to do with what I really want to say what I really want to express. Yet to explain where it began is apart of the power of what I do want to reveal.
…….I have been inspired and moved to believe in the power of that love affair with my words with the emotion behind them. I have always been a words girl, always been about the books the cover o cover the path of turning pages and being impressed and moved by the settings described with description. To be just shown as with film and the way it within the reader becomes a vision of those words. It is an experience and active. Tv is of the different sort, it is a vision of another’s perception and their discovery and vision. No active partnership. Yet with the premiere of Dawson’s Creek I began to see it differently as JOey and Dawson with great emotional scenes and large and beautifully spoken words it took me in and without fail I watched each episode twice premiere night with great enthusiasm both times. I became a Creek addict and with its ending I shed true tears. It was a transition an acknowledgement of a life changing. No other show evoked my loyalty for many years… My best friend had begun to watch a show and she was hooked and telling me about it. I had seen previews and quick show reminders. Still I didn’t give it chance…. And while I build up to its revealing I will say this before hand. This show has rocked my soul yet my soul had not been awakened not just yet allot of life happened between those beginning days of its run and the present days. For I had begun to watch at the very beginning of a change in me. Yet a woman in transition yet again may not be ready but I watched and enjoyed but never really watched. Yet my slow warming to the inhabitants of Tree Hill, North Carolina was well on the rise in warming my heart. Another alter change for life began and we lost touch me and my new friends. ON returning to life it began its true decision to the very core of me. Then like the moment that ultimately changed my vision my world my heart, it became something else and it was a true place to explore for every single episode that I watch it literally rocked me to tears. The music, the truth, the honest and the reality of life had been given to a place of fire. Not the fire that burns and destroys but the fire that lights and warms. One Tree Hill the little TV Show on the CW had begun a gate of feeling a level of moving minds and should to the understanding of love and love had just met me, just saw me with open eyes and had definitely just begun to embrace me. I had fallen in love and then suddenly that dynamic even in life had allowed me to begin to stop having a fear in so many things. As my lover, my friend began to hold a new mirror clean of my smudged idea of myself to me daily the idea of love for anything once again became a possibility and if you ever had the privilege of watching this show then you can understand. So as in the way of inspiration I have been inspired. After watching the seasons I had missed I fell madly in love as I had with the man who reminded me that life is a living experience that can give you all that is needed to make you see yourself differently through eyes of unconditional love. I am working on something that will in my high hopes of myself be something that has moved the heart in away that is eternal…..
Your drum is not lost to a fading beat… it is still strong in its pulse, hitting the pavement of days with immediate and striking balance, igniting the fusion of sexy saxphone calls and serene keys of the pianos classic and notable emotional cords. The music of your soul knows no limitation of the land, bares no notice to the heated and desperate calls of negative. Your music is the soulful mixture of your desire, your faith, hope and belief in the miracles of love. The ripening of your mind only increases each year when you celebrate the anniversary of your birth. A collage of your journey.. triumphs, struggles, and movement. Today is not just about how you got here, whom the vessel was or the lineage left behind. Today is a collected memoir of thoughts and changes. We celebrate the core of your being, and the love that created the home for the soul that lives within..
A sister is a common oxymoronic entitlement of ownership bestowed by right of birth and the espionage of genetics. As the first-born of your inherited tribe you have been the pioneer, the liaison and the basis of cause. The path to tread and the vote to acquire. As the youngest I have lived in the well of your presence, yet have warmed and been soothed by the care of your parental knowledge. I have acquired the blessing and curse of leadership that at times have been nothing more than a pain in the side at my time of battle. Yet it has also been the healing to wounds that only a sister could heal. In our embrace we have found and learned the art of the un conditional form of living that is blind to resistance. We resist not to forgive. We resist not to love. An embedded army stands at my side, as you are a soldier for our happiness, even when we are the ones that cause you pain. You have been the nurturing alliance when the enemy is the our common exchange of blood, dna and bind that is tied to the presence of learning to go with the punches, rolling over then into complete triumph. The job of a big sister never dies, never lessens in its demands and never quits with few benefits and no place to mark complaint. Yet being the little sister gives me the experience to say… that had you not chopped down those trees and found those caves of passage.. I would not be able to write, not be able to be the rogue free spirit that I am. Without you taking on the pains of growing up first… I would not be able to come in pick up the slack. Your just being is a gift to our family. And as today will quickly become the past, moving so fast, today is God‘s way… of showing you the love that he feels so unconditionally just for you. A quick reminder that at the moment of your birth, the stars aligned, the room went silent, the light began to shine, and someone we both know well… said… “My baby girl, she is all mine” and that is eternal, beyond this life, not to be lost in death… it’s so powerful… love that it’s the only thing that doesn’t need the present as a gift.. for it outlast time.
To My Oldest Sister with Love….