Stuff I Write About

On last Thursday, I couldn't work. I tried to concentrate but couldn't. I was grasping at something, something I couldn't reach, and clamoring at something unseen. I felt the tension in my body and in my emotions, I was angry--but at what? On Thursday I updated my Linked-In profile, and I realized there were things missing, words and ideas I wanted to communicate. A story I wanted to tell that couldn't be seen from the sterile words I used to describe my professional career. So, I kept updating, and looking at other profiles, and I kept yearning, grasping as if my Linked-In profile would reveal a magic answer. Instead, what I found  was me...telling myself I was not good enough, not educated enough, didn't have enough experience in this area or another, I needed more training. All of this validating my fears and solidifying my unworthiness. Geez! It's clear now although it wasn't then. I don't have all of the answers, I likely never will. But Go...

I wrote this blog after watching a preview of the movie 12 Years a Slave. hosted by Sojourners Wednesday, October 9, 2013. It was an amazing movie, I wanted to record the personal impact it had upon me while my feelings were fresh and raw. I realized that it served as a catalyst in surprising ways. Ironically on yesterday, I checked my mail and in the box was a letter from Sojourner’s magazine--reminding me that it was time to “Renew.” How could they be so right? **************************************************************************** I woke up like any other day this morning but somehow I am different. Tonight I feel a lot of elements coming together and congealing like water droplets across a Teflon pan. For one thing, I learned that I am an organizer--it doesn't matter what I’m organizing or for what cause, it’s what I do. And, I haven’t done it in a while. For two, I have learned that life sometimes takes you full circle. You’ll find yourself at a crossroads that you onc...

Usually, I write about how dissatisfied I am with myself and my life—always thinking about what I can do different and better. There are times when I am 100% content—when good and bad do not matter, those are the moments when everything “is.” I would love to have more of those moments, more time for simply taking it all in. I am learning to ask myself in the affirmative what’s good not what’s wrong. I am also learning to ask myself whether or not the activities I engage in are life giving or life draining, and if they are life draining, then what will I do to replenish my cup, when will I do it. I notice how often I drag myself through doing some intolerable activity begrudgingly but with determination and laser-sharp focus. When I am through I say, “Yes, now I can be myself.” But, for that time I am myself just not my best self. I do not want to put myself on hold or wait for special circumstances (just the right ones) to show up as my best self. My best self may not always...

Pieces of a dream fall out like lint and loose change from pockets with dark holes Dark holes which is where I been lately at least it feel that way to me for what seems like an eternity I am trying to shake loose all those things which threaten to bind me my destiny abounds in me I fight on when there is no more room to run

There are evening poems like Langston and Petrarch and Morning poems like Nikki Giovanni and Song of Songs Poems for every occasion For whatever ails you Take two and call me in the morning

And so it comes To this The sun beating Down The people indifferently passing And we ... out Of breath In a pool of salty Sweat Laughing Happy In each other’s Trust That once again We gentled the stone All the way down And will now Push it back up But we will wait Until the sun sets We will wait Until the stores Close We will wait While they put their garbage bags In the streets We will wait Until the dogs and rats Sniff their choices We will wait Until the street cleaners Push their brooms And the women offer their wares We will hope The men are kind We are Sisyphus We write the poems We paint the portraits We sculpt the statues We quilt the blankets We set the tables We make the beds We wipe the tears We rock the anger We hold on to tomorrow We push the rock up And we gently bring it down We were promised Only a gift of light You keep me From being Lonely

What is it about this time of tumult and great beauty? Time for shedding in preparation for renewal I love Langston I read his poems every night before bed Poems won’t come to me They often find me too tired to capture thought I ought to get my black butt up But I been tired Tired like all day in the cornfields tired Who am I kidding? I ain’t neva been in no cornfields But I do know that I am tired Tired like Black woman tired of all your lame ass excuses tired Yes, tired like that