Power over!

17 03 2013
Shift change of gear, yoh, my breath has nearly been taken away, all the work I have invested in the renewal of my mind nearly came crashing down. Pick myself up, dust the unwarrented shame off, but Lord knows, deserve this, I do not . Evaluate, reminder, I am more than a conqueror, a woman of valor, wonderfully made, gracefully put together so I put on the brakes, self introspection. I still bleed the same, I pinch my self and feel the same pain, but yoh, you have tried to take me back a thousand steps. Open the Word, remind myself, who I am, and who I wish you would be, I breath and I remove those shackles. I am who He has made me to be this has not changed, I can no longer live to please you but yoh, almost lost it. I shift down the gears, back to beyond neutral, put it back on cruise control, back to normal. My God is in control. I will never allow you to instill your insecurities in me, even if you are a person who is supposed to be in authority. I take complete control of my life and only say, yes, to the One who is who He is. I look to Him and He is higher than the hills. He is the one whom no one can be. Breath, it is well is, it is not about you anymore, it is about my relationship with God and I was only loaned to you and that is still a given. I forgive you!

 





Athletically aging ungracefully

23 02 2013

Reflection:- i don’t know if you will understand. For me to exude self esteem and self confidence I have to pull it from as deep as my gut. It is not like as early as a couple of years ago when those two behaviors used to pore out of me like sweat on a humid day. These days I literally work extremely hard to feel that they are a part of me. You see, the reason is very simple it is called aging the way of the female especially where you have always taken for granted certain elements in your life. You try not to take the reflection in the mirror too personal and you try not to dramatize the stare of a brother who is more than half your age into a number issue. You try to keep it together by pretending to yourself daily that it isn’t what it is. So you develop the exterior similar to the shell of a turtle, the result you cannot distinguish yourself from the devil who wears Prada!





What you see is what you get

22 02 2013

Even if I have suspicion that I get too attached to people and I am accused of loving too much or proclaimed to put faith in people before really analyzing their worthiness as some say, I would rather let my heart break because I have felt a moving love and humble compassion from someone. I would rather hear a homeless person say, “God bless you” to me. I would rather be a positive contributor to your climb out of a difficult situation. I would rather run the race with you next to me only giving in when God removes you into wonderful glory. I would rather say I knew you as you were and I still knew you in your elevation. I would rather you left knowing deep down in your heart you knew that I honestly truly heart breakingly cared enough to secure your stability and that I did it only for the glory of God! I am who I am and what you see is what you get and it doesn’t get any better than this but God loves me!





Comforting Love Yielding Divine Eternity

8 05 2012

He was brought into my life for a reason.  How I met him did not make logical sense.

 He arrived when the darkness was so thick, visibility zero.  My sense of direction had ceased to exist, my sense of purpose dwindling fast. I simply lacked peripheral vision, the mountains were too many, the will to move them nonexistent.  To say I was lost is an understatement, I was so deep in mire, and I had lost the way.  The reflection in the mirror and the never ending internal turmoil simply did not equate.

When he arrived I had minus zero self- esteem, very little self -confidence to show for myself and floated around in a shell that was blessed to be fit and active, all by the grace of God. To say I was a mess, is a perpetual understatement.  I hated myself and covered it all up with manicures, pedicures, haute couture, coiffed weaves, intensive facials and huge sunglasses that covered the sadness of my eyes.  What the world didn’t know is that I did not cry in my room, I cried in the car everywhere I went. I was keeping up appearances, I felt as translucent as Saran wrap.

Friday night was, me, night.  I was partying hard by myself.  Managing my music like a professional disc jockey. Categorizing my musical options from fast paced deep lyrics with major hit at home reality to old school, good at hitting you deep in the pit of the stomach to heart wrenching, soul stirring let me give you peace, you are not in the right state of mind, gospel.  Then I would plead on my knees, fall into a deep sleep and wake up to the same eerie dark, mire filled existence.  I wanted it to end.

He began slowly without judgment, he worked like a builder.  He strengthened my core, developed my inner strength, moulded my soul, and worked God into every situational circumstance I was in.  God worked through him to move me from the dead man walking syndrome to the woman of impact radiating life.

Through him God changed my perspective on life, reduced the negativities, showed me different perspectives, refused to not believe in me and stripped me down to a nakedness I only showed to myself.  He exhausted me until I made positive choices, I made a decision that I was not made for the darkness and it was not meant for me.

I fell in love with this man.  A love so deep that was beyond any understanding.  The love I felt for this man was not just of the regular physical, I need to see him everyday type of love.  I felt his love and had love even when I was distances away. 

When it was time for him to leave, to move on he had finished his work here and God moved him on to continue possibly with another lost soul, I threw a down right fit.  I couldn’t see how I would live without him.  I pulled out my musical options only this time I tuned the old school lyrics of Luther, Marvin, Stevie, SWV, Aretha and Aaliyah, then I looked up to the stars in the night floating one by one into the clouds only to disappear and I realized he had finished toiling for God on my behalf because I was exactly where God wanted me to be, for now.  I finally knew truly and confirmed I belonged to Jesus and my trust should be on Him and not man. I now look in the mirror and the reflection equates my inner soul.

 Solong for now to my friend.   Just for you to know, he is my comforting love yielding divine eternity and he works for God.





Can you truly be in love with someone?

6 05 2012

Can you truly be in love with someone?  In order to really answer that question we need to unpack the definition of love.  There are so many definitions but the truth is that love can only be defined personally. Having said that in my opinion, love is something around the feel good, happy go lucky department.  Another words love does not equate to hurt. Love has no correlation to pain. Love in its utopian state is a euphoric state of mind, or condition?  The all true reality is love is a thin line between in Infatuation and in lust?

 I have been in love, in infatuation and in lust a number of times in my well experienced existence on earth.  Honestly speaking  the biggest wake up call when I fell out of love, infatuation or lust came with the realisation in the end that I did not even know which one had been applicable in that particular context.

 My biography of love, infatuation, lust goes like this:  first there was Miss Spinks grade 3, with her waist length brown hair, deadly mini skirts, extremely pale skin and endless legs one of which had what I consider now to be an unsightly round brown  birthmark.  True reflection of that experience is I wanted to be Miss Spinks when I grew up along with the extremely pale skin, a feat that would have required an MJ makeover; the endless legs, who knows Miss Spinks could well have been 5.2 like me but to a 3rd grader who numbered the shortest in the class she could have easily been magnified in stature; the waist length, hair, aha, that one – achieved thanks to the miracle called the weave!

 Then there was the boy in grade 3 still who lived in this furry grey coat which for some reason he would not remove even in the classroom which was adequately heated with central heating. Well he got hit by a car crossing the street after school and the only way I knew it was him was by the heap of grey fur lying on the road. I thereafter identified him with the song ‘Silent Night’ because that was the song Miss Spinks kept forcing us to sing over and over again that particular day and it was still ringing in my mind as I made my merry way home when I spied the heap of grey fur on the ground. My analysis of the reason I felt a particular allegiance to the guy in the grey furry coat was that although I prsonally found him to be noisy and a severe pain in the butt, he was popular and considered cool even in his unsightly grey furry number. 

 Then at age 14,  there was the “28″ year old guy with the dreadlocks who looked dangerously like Bob Marley and had a smooth Jamaican swag, whom I used to sneak and meet to hang out with at Kennedy Park behind my snoopy mother’s behind.  A type who, by the way would not be classified at all as my type even at age 16 and beyond, and who in retrospect now I recognise as a possible pedophile and have thanked God many times that my mother finally  caught me being walked home and threatened the hell out of that guy,  preventing  what he was most likely working methodologically on  to mount to naught.   I put that experience to loving the total attention of an elder who had the time to listen to my utopian dreams, mentally warped poetry, and at the same time complimented my beauty constantly at a stage in my life when baby clothes stop fitting and pre-adolescence clothes leave major fashion gaps.  The question I am asking now is what the hell was a 28 year old guy with a smooth Jamaican swag doing hanging around at the local park when all the other elders were nowhere to be seen at that time of day?   

 The same applies to the 21 year old immature, challenged man who gave me a diamond engagement ring at age 16 the day before I left for university in a State thousands of miles from New York, as purposely designed by my parents. Praise God, I could have been the long suffering, degreed wife of a silver Cadillac driving, chain smoking Part time DJ, full time whatever job he said he did that was connected to shifts, husband, and a mother of two living in his parent’s customised basement epitomising the all American dysfunctional family as a constantly nagging baby momma about how I gave him what was supposed to be preserved for that special Mr Right who probably only showed up in movies such as “Best Man” among others!

 Then there was the university hook up. Absolutely gorgeous, white teeth, fitted beautifully in his mouth, manly hands, athletic, mind you this was the union of two athletic people, wavy hair packed neatly to his perfect head, brown twinkling eyes, smooth deep voice and he could sing too?! This was the man who came on open day in my freshman year, walked up to very stuck up me, at a party where I refused every dance request to literally sweep me not off but to the dance floor where I danced every song with him until the day broke and he gracefully and casually leaned over in his grandure and muscular stature to whisper in my ear, a whisper which literally sent shivers down my spine, that when he comes to school in the fall I would be his girlfriend. Yeah right, smooth move, enjoy your trip home! The following fall semester I found myself the girlfriend of this magnificence to the charange bitterness and ferociousness of the line backer who had talked himself into believing I was the future Mrs.  This particular volatile, proof that hell hath no fury, “Diary of a mad black woman” style,  toxic, totally taxing, nearly removed all shreds of my self confidence, waiting for a bomb to explode relationship took me years to get over and threatened my trust in anything male. Then he had the nerve to try to resurrect this dangerous liaison a number of times, finally with a letter on bright yellow lined paper from Germany,  those were the days before facebook, twitter, sms, and whatsApp,  strategically delivered into my hands by my matron of honour a week before my dream wedding day followed up by a landline call, where he got my number from is not rocket science, talking about, “please don’t marry him, we are made for each other”. Ok, I confess, there was a momentary wavering before I remember how potent in toxicity the past had been.  Shoot, I went ahead and jumped that broom, keeping that letter with me until it was found one day and not by the maid but by my bitter better half. It was then disposed of not by me but my insecure bitter better half in disgust using Lions matches as the tool of destruction.

 The sum total of all this accumulation of experience which resulted eventually to nil got me pondering what the components of love are. What are the indicators that define one as in love and distinguishes one from in infatuation and redeems one from in lust.?  I personally do not have an answer not even one that relates to my particular context. 

 I can however tell you what in my analysis verbalises what love is not.  It has no geographical specification, why? My geographical spread in terms of experience I can comfortably say spreads through the Americas, Asia, Europe, the horn and east, west,central and, southern Africa, the principles regarding the fine divide between love, infatuation and lust remains the same. It is not religion specific, in my limited analogy,  the defining factors are the same no matter what affiliation.  It appears perpendicular in nature to in infatuation and in lust but is distinctive in its pre -situational deterioration of the cell stems that disturb the natural balance of the brain and burns the core of the nerves.

 The only reprieve that I can offer to all of you who are reading this in the hope of finding some redemption in your own situation is a mere carrot stick that, yes, in all of this historical chaos I finally found the one, the only one who was privy to the fact that I have a gap in my front teeth!

 





Sleep has become so elusive

29 04 2012

Sleep has become so elusive.  These days I take this to be part of ageing.  My reasoning on this is because when you get to this stage in life although you supposedly have so much admirable wisdom, you also harbour demons you fear to face.  You therefore spend the whole of daylight in full force busy-ness, using various innovative tools and techniques to keep your eyes open; praying that an unsolicited episode of rapid onset  “power” nap will not be noticed by those for whom sleep is a blessing.

In my wet behind the ear days, I used to pity those blessed with wisdom, thinking that all that experience drained them of the energy I enjoyed at the time. Now I know the truth.  The truth is that sleeps evades us who have witnessed history in the making.  It’s not an inability to close ones eye to it but a refusal to confront and deal with the uncomfortable realities of things, most times, a situation of our own doing and making.  Sleep brings with it all the worries that the procrastinator in you has swept under the carpet.  It sometimes can be well spent literally bargaining with God till the morning hours.  This hectic battle brings amazing truth to the saying,   “it is darkest before the dawn”.   Some of us even get  so desperate for this vital part of our human lives that in desperation we down sleeping pills; drink one for the road; count sheep; exercise to the tune of exhaustion; read self help books; Google away the hours; post inspirations on face book; and tweet at “ungodly” hours, even though the spread of social media gives us the confidence that although our friends in our immediate vicinity may have drifted off into luxurious bliss, the others on the other side of the world who are apt to note the time difference follow your tweet-ful inspiration with misunderstood pity.   Unfortunately what gives you away to those who embrace the same time zone as yourself are:  the deep bags under your eyes that threaten to appear as if empowered you, are nurturing an abusive relationship.  The solution for you then is to spend a major proportion of your earnings on those deep seaweed facials on a monthly or sometimes depending on what you are dealing with that you are allowing to have power over you, on a bi-weekly basis.  The funny thing is that you continue in your warped problem solving analysis addressing symptoms even when you know good  and well that the problem tree you consulted, you know the one, the one you constructed, has reminded you what you keep shovelling in the cupboard as SO not a truth.  So you skirt around the log frame, continually beautifying the contextual analysis; identifying the imagined realities; abhorring the clarity; weighing  self designed options that are masked and developed to ensure minimum discomfort ( for the fainthearted) this is recognised as DENIAL.  You agree purported solutions with yourself formulated into an elaborate action plan; laid out in detail; addressing possible obstacles; with smart contingency plans that are loaded with “what ifs” and “just in cases”.  Your short term solution is continually evolved into many short term solutions.  Your life takes the shape of a monumental mess and it is at this point that you realise that your mistrust in addressing the reality has deprived you of the privilege of a long term solution and then it clicks many dark circles; bleeding ulcers; high blood pressure episodes; tension headaches; panic attacks later that, YES, sleep is elusive and that is because that is of your own design.  `





Beautiful Lesotho

29 04 2012

Beautiful Lesotho








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.