"Hang onto the world as it spins around, just don't let the spin get you down."

Donny Hathaway serenaded these lyrics to me this morning en route to work and it is still resonating with me as I blog this am.  I actually have been guilty of letting the spin get me down from time to time.  Well, I don't know if down is the right verbiage,  but I have definitely been reflective and thoughtful about where I am in life and where I would like to be.  Sometimes, the two do not SEEM to mesh well.  I've found myself withdrawn and in my own head, which at times can be the worst vacation spot ever.  Life has such an artistic way of throwing beautifully ugly curve balls, that can sometimes make you question the meaning of it all.  I am continuously heeding to not dodge the balls, but take the hit.  In the end, I always say, I may be scratched and dented, but i'm still spit shined polish.  So, after hearing Donny this morning, I started thinking surely I can't be the only hueman that goes through these emotional bouts that seem like one extremely long PMS experience.  Where nothing is clear in my mind, irrationality becomes my best friend, and negativity the monkey on my back. Days where the "bad" things seem to outweigh the good and the ability to be grateful is tested.  I've found that even though it is difficult to look through the foggy lens of "pity party", it is sometimes so necessary to help put things in perspective.  I always allow myself to feel whatever it is I'm feeling, so that I may process it, learn from it, re-learn from it, and move on. The important thing is to not dwell in the fog. By nature,  I am very a optimistic person who simply will not play the victim role, so when my spirit lands on the downside of the earth's axis, it can be frustrating. It happens to best of us though.  Yet once I process whatever it is I need to at the time, clarity always presents itself.  And for that I celebrate and welcome the world's spins.
Attempting to be in control of uncontrollable situations is often where stumbling blocks occur because in reality we control nothing on this plane, save for our thoughts. We can not control how others treat us, but we can control our thought process and response to said treatment.  We can not control life's tides, but we can control how we choose to ride the waves.  We can not control the world's spins(life), but we can choose to hold on steadfastly.  Often times, it is so easy to get caught up in the externals of life. The haves and the have nots, the unmet goals, life's demands, responsibilites, etc. In this particular time of clarity, it has been reinforced in me that quality trumps quantity time and time again and that control in certain aspects is not mine to have.  Though it may not seem like i've accomplished much,  I have accomplished alot.  Though it may not seem that i'm not where I want to be, I'm exactly where I need to be.  So I will continue hanging onto the world and pushing towards brighter days. They are waiting to embrace me.

Thought I'd share this by one of my fav. poets

Revolutions is One Form
Of Social Change

When the man is busy
making niggers
it doesn't matter
much
what shade
you are.

If he runs out of one
particular color
he can always switch
to size
and when he's finished
off the big ones
he'll just change
to sex
which is
after all
where it all began.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox Audre Lorde

yeah!!!!!

so, my scholarship application got approved for my yoga certification course.  I cant wait to start this new journey. 

lazy lazy lazy

I did myself proud this weekend by being THE ultimate couch potato.  Since I've vowed to really slow up my pace and enjoy life a little more ,  I thought this weekend would be the perfect test.  It was fourth of July weekend and there were so many options to get into something.  Caribfest was this weekend, Essence festival, and numerous bbq's and house parties.  I did absolutely nothing, but watch movies, read books, and sleep at home.  I didn't even clean my house, and for those who know me that is a big deal.  I rested on my comfy couch which seemed to embrace me like a long lost lover.  I was completely selfish this weekend and I enjoyed every moment.  While, I don't intend to make laziness a habit, I can definitely say the rest was needed and I did not desire to be anywhere else.  Hope everyone else had a joyous, safe 4th.

I believe in the sweat of love and the fire of truth

En route to NY, I finished reading Assata Shakur's autobiography. It was an honor to gain more knowledge of this sistah, who in my opinion knows the true meaning of struggle and love. Love for her people.  Love for herself. Love manifested through social justice and equality.  She is one strong woman, and they for damn sure don't make em' like her anymore. Assata's articulation of the events that led up to her escape from the U.S. is a true testimony that she was extremely passionate about the injustices in this country and how it affected her as well as black people as a whole.   The way that the media portrayed her was a force to be reckoned with.  All the untruths, painting a picture of her as a violent, dangerous villain is almost laughable.  But ironically it brought tears to my eyes, simply because at that time the media was able to get away with it so easily. As far as media today, I would say not much has changed.  I found myself throughout various parts in the book asking out loud "is that even legal?" But quickly answered myself with "it didn't even matter."  The FBI's COINTELPRO viewed Assata as prey, and they were bound to stifle, imprison, and quiet her unapologetic black voice whether it was legal or not. The living conditions that Assata endured while in prison were unfit even for the filthiest of swine.  She was placed in Rikers Island men's prison basement for example.  She was violently beaten numerous times and placed in isolation.  Assata was forced to lived in these same conditions even when she was pregnant. She was not allowed proper medical treatment until her aunt (also her lawyer) forcefully disputed the inhumane conditions Assata was in and human rights groups starting putting pressure on the government.  Even still, the courts required that their doctor be present when Assata's chosen doctor examined her. It was the U.S. intention to break her.  But to no avail.  Mistrial after mistrial.  Prison after prison.  Injustice after Injustice.  Assata endured. Throughout the book Assata recalls experiences that shaped her life stemming from her early recollections of racism right up to the moment on the New Jersey turnpike.  I think the thing that most gained my respect for Assata was the fact that she was a free thinker and a leader in her own right. She did not just co-sign with the Black leaders of that time because it sounded cool to be a part of or because all of her friends were joining.  She read.  She questioned. She firmly stated her opinions.  It was interesting to find that although she strongly supported the Black Liberation Movement and was a member of the Black Panthers, that she as a black women within the party,  challenged some of the parties theories and made many attempts at changing some of the ways the Black Panther party portrayed itself.  In other words, she was more about action than angry, violent rhetoric. I could go on and on, about how much I enjoyed this book, from her beautiful poetry to her personal experiences with love, hate, anger, and joy.  She used all of her senses to be in tune with the social injustices of that time and as I look at the cover of her book,  I see the fire in her eyes.  She was real.  She believed wholeheartedly in the struggle for truth, equality, and social justice for our people and was willing to sacrifice herself to obtain and secure it. The beautiful struggle continues.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from her:   "I believe in the sweat of love and the fire of truth."

We live in Brooklyn Baybay....



So I had a blast on my trip to NY.  This was the first vacation I've had since 2003, and it was also my and Zahyon's first official vacation together.  I know she had a blast. She, as well as myself, got to meet family that we had never seen before, yet we interacted as though we'd known each other all of our lives.   I'm looking forward to planning our next trip together.  My baby girl is GOOD company.  There is so much culture in Brooklyn alone, that I was truly intrigued and excited by the daily ventures of us walking down the block and hearing reggae music blasting on the corner.  I loved the fact that I "blended in".  My locs, and head wraps did not attract the strange looks that I'm used to in South. The multitude of accents, had me guessing if I could decipher what country the individual was from. I mean to be able to walk half a block and buy a roti or doubles without having to call in an order was foreign to me.  Never would I experience that in dip chewing, cow herding, boots wearing Tejas.  There is access to any and everything you might imagine needing.  In some ways that is good, other ways not so much.  Even though, I am not a fan of shopping,  being in NY made me WANT to shop.  I mean, there was SO much cute clothes, shoes, handbags. FOR CHEAP! I wanted to buy, buy, buy and buy some more.  I was truly THE tourist, and THE consumer.  I'll chop up my return home broke as a realllll good time shopping in NY .  Aside from the culture,  the other thing that really stood out to me was how fast paced the place is.  Everybody from grannys to babies is in a rush.  And  you better keep up with the pace, or get knocked down.  Even the style of dress and the manner in which NY residents speak, seems on edge.  Some might call it edgy, but I experienced a few conversations in which by the end, I wasn't exactly sure, if I had just been had. I gave it the moniker, "Hustle Talk". Anyway, considering, we did so much fast paced walking,  I am convinced I lost a few pounds, inches, and gained some tone to my calves to boot.  Trust, I'm not complaining about that.  But this fast paced  edgy traffic,  speech, fashion sense and the hurry up to wait type lifestyle I noticed in NY, made me take a look in the mirror and check myself.  Upon my return home,  I really had to take notice that I too am  in a rush most times.  Being a single mom, does not truly afford for a slow pace in everything I do,  but I feel like if there was anything I could take away for the hurriedness of NY, was that I need to chill and slow up my pace a bit.  Enjoy my life moments a little more, as opposed to hurrying up to get to the next task.  I guess that is why I am so inclined to become a yoga instructor,  because I see it as a way for me to have to slow down.  I will be accountable in a sense, to practice what I preach.   
     On another note, I think the highlight of my trip was going to Prospect Park with my cousin.  Every Sunday in the summers various drummers and musicians from all parts of the city join and play their instruments.  The thing that tripped me out, is that some of these musicians don't know even each other,  and the music played is not planned.  But the inner-g was so united.  Imagine a million plus different heartbeats all coming in unison and beating as one.  BEAUTIFUL.  People danced in the drum circle and whether their movements and bodily contorts were drug induced or not, it is clear that these folks were taken to a different  dimension by the music that caressed the winds in the park.  I, too, felt connected to strangers and I felt the MOST human I've ever felt in my life.  Ironically, Prospect Park was a stark contrast to the rush of everything occurring outside of the park.  The drummers, the dancers, and other attendees were not in a rush to go, do, say anything.  They simply were. And I was.  I already knew that music was universal, but I also came to the conclusion that the very nature and desire for huemankind to just BE is universal as well.  The ability to submit all will, stress, and anxiety to a higher power and let go of control by slowing down and accepting what is, has become a challenge to most simply because of life's daily demands. I'm starting with myself though, because I yearn to experience that feeling that I had at Prospect Park in my daily life.  During those moments at the park, everybody had mastered the art of just being.

anewday

Tears came yesterday
From a deep, dry well
In my soul
That needed irrigation
And release from my restraint
And control
A smile came today
And it filled
That newly irrigated space
With love, hope
Faith, and restoration