Creativity isn’t always beautiful. There is a desire in us as artists to share what we feel inside with the world; how can we do so when we can’t find the words ourselves? There isn’t always an easy road with which to release my emotions to words. It can be quite painful. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.
“There are days when words and feelings pour out of me like a volcano. Aggressive and fierce, I stab through the lines on the page and rip it apart like my brain is ripping me. Then there are days when I can do nothing, My creative juices are dried up- I am breathing in coarse sand, I cough up ideas but also blood. It lines the paper all the same.”
Warm tear drops kiss my hand on this cold night. The sky is tinged with a deep purple, a quiet purple. Even amongst the stars, there is only silence. I envy anyone who is able to find direction using them, to see a compass in darkness. I merely see what is before me. Three in a row, four on the outskirts forming a misshapen rectangle. Two more, faded, somewhere in the middle of it all. Orion’s belt. I could never forget constellations after my first time recognising them. Only, this time, I felt forgotten by them. Neglected. They are still. You feel silent to me today. This water is cold as well, in the deep end of it where I sit. Water is supposed to feel warmer on the skin after some time. I have been sitting here for a while, a long while. Waiting. I have been waiting. The moon is nowhere to be seen. Not a slither of its light shows for as far as I can see.
Tonight I am in darkness surviving off the somber glow of these stars alone. Tonight, I am small and the universe is too vast to consider this humbled being. This search for guidance has rendered me unnerved. Unheard. I am screaming, from my lungs through my eyes and I know I am not loud enough. I am gentle. I am excruciatingly soft. The wind will travel skies carrying my cry to the heavens and I will still be waiting for You to answer me, my Lord. I cannot hear You or see You or feel You in this moment, however long this moment may last but I believe, fiercely.
More often than not we let ourselves be surrounded by negativity. And things keep going wrong and we believe it’s wrong and unfair and we feed the cycle till we’re buried underneath it all.
After a while, we stop asking if that’s how it should be. And then we forget how it all started. We are forever lost in the darkness inside ourselves that was originated elsewhere but placed there. And we believe we deserve it. And we believe it’s our own damn fault. And it is. And it’s not. It is because we let it grow and take over. It’s not because we are not responsible for the environment we live in.
I wish I could reminisce like you for some sorta time and space I felt safe. But since a young age I had to learn to hold myself and know despite it all, I was still enough. But as you would have guessed, I didn’t know that and spiralled down a really dark path. No, there were no alcohol and drugs, there was something worse, the constant battle with crippling feelings of ‘not enough’.
Imagine growing up believing you should not exist at all. Imagine how would you turn out. I wish I could say I’m turned out ok, but I guess that’s not the complete truth. Even though you may see me holding it together, I’m no more found than you.
We’re lost and alone in the journey back home trying to grow along the way. Even if we do find souls that help us carry the load, in the end we’re the ones to answer to what we let go.
Sometimes we get scared of happiness because happiness is the unknown. We say we want it, we say we crave it, but we don’t do anything to achieve it or if we do, we sabotage ourselves on the last minute. Continue reading Happiness
The beauty of creation lead me here today. I don’t know if I truly accept this. I am a part of a tribe. A tribe built on color, texture, and imagination. A visual epilogue of brilliance. Am I worthy of such mental dexterity? Do I tremble before my forefathers of thought? I am beholden to this refuge of peace. Oh, to be with others who see the same vision as I do. What a beautiful thought.
For years I took for granted what was gifted to be. For years I hid like a scared animal, craving the limelight but was intimidated by the glare. Our voices should be heard, so they are added to the spectrum. Yes, we may be turned away. To only those who are blind.
That is okay. I want to be seen, from where I create.
in between washing the dishes
Ammi yells at me
curses her life
all I did was accidentally leave the
glass by the tv
I roll my eyes and lock myself in the bathroom
until she’s done the cooking in the kitchen
I come back outside
and plug my brain into the tv
so she can’t throw more side comments my way
Her anger is for me not becoming the person she wished I be
My anger is for her never defending me
but we push it down
we swallow it, chug it down like a bottle of whiskey
let the damage be done inside
all we notice is the burning madness
showing in our swollen eyes
from crying all night
Knowing your boundaries is a challenge for many of us. It takes time to identify what those boundaries are based on what we have experienced or seen or what is valuable to us and what can be let go.
I have been contemplating whether I am establishing boundaries and with whom or why with whom? More like, why was I not letting folks go?
It turns out I have been, or I thought I was; it started with my FB.
I have an average day to day X# of folks I keep in my Fb family. It took years to identify this group of people based on positivism, humanism, and inclusion. It was OK to let family members go from Fb because I did not want the negative energy. I needed to identify what negative energy meant to me, and what did that look like via a social media outlet? What does that feel like or sound like? Bottom line, it came back to learning to trust my instinct – a woman’s intuition- if you will and trust.
Literally, I am learning to trust myself to know what is good for me based on what my conscience and my spirit are telling me.
Fb was a good starting point to build that trust within myself because I had a tangible method of measuring what is engaging me and how I am engaging in dialog with others. I will admit. It felt HORRIBLE to press UNFRIEND with folks who were, well, horrible in their posts and in their comments; unfriending is an intentional decision. A deliberate act to sever a connection with another person who is more than a name on the screen. Sometimes the detachment went easy and quiet and simple..BAM the person is gone and I am no longer accessible to the energy she/he is sharing publicly. Other times it was not so simple and is followed by a personal IM or a text or worse-a call.
Some folks just do not want to go. Ok, I get that.
And this is where the next step came into practice. Talking-communicating and holding a dialog, my daughter calls these ‘difficult conversations’ my son calls this ‘being real’. Either way-for me, it was an exercise in courage to articulate the personal boundaries that I have which ones are being crossed.
Through time, my boundary setting is preceded by conversations regarding boundaries-nothing formal-rather a series of rapport building dialog’s where my boundaries are shared and clarified with folks I have identified as valuable to me for their thoughts and ideas and time and companionship.
Upon reflection, I see it was about liking myself and valuing myself to be treated fairly, justly, kindly and through the lens of humanity via social media. A act of love for myself that I do not believe I understood holistically. Where I held ethos and more; however, I did not have the courage to articulate those thoughts and ideas to others because social norms for me did not permit that level of engagement or authenticity with others. I just sat back. Patiently waiting to:
A. run away.
C. just go w/ the flow and let it all unfold in front of me despite how I am interpreting what is happening.
C. is the worst option. As you, no ‘I’, was sitting by as if ‘I’ were a passenger in my own life vs an active member or participant actively making decisions of what I am letting into my environment.
Shame on me right?
No, not shame on me. I had to experience this to know now I am not sitting by and watching this thing called life go on past me and I have control of what comes in-of what I permit to come in.
Dare I say I live life in a courageous manner now.
A manner where I am identifying value in myself and how my surroundings are influencing me.
Sauntering down the wynd, wearing my aplomb and prestige, hearsay passed by,
My corpulence wasn’t just my chassis, but a riposte to their unwanted why.
Unceasing my footfalls, I carried myself with a muted smile and masked tears,
Sheathing my arms with my trembling hands, and my eyes bespoke fears.
White man likes the way I look
He says something on the lines of exotic- About Jasmine entrancing the air above me
My hourglass figure, the way I walk, the way I talk
White man “Keep driving”, I say
He says my problem is that-
I am too foreign for my own body, not native enough for this land