Untitled*

I feel. I feel more things than I did before. I have few words for these feelings. Mostly otherworldly. I pray these things are of God, and that I’m not being led astray. I pray these things are cousins of love.

I don’t know man. The other day I was looking at another human being that I had no real connection to, and I was overcome with an almost overwhelming need to cry. It’s like I was all of a sudden looking through new eyes.

I think as individuals, we forget just how magical other individuals are. They are whole beings on their own, whole universes of other origin, other intent, other beliefs, other fears, and other strengths. They are other-verses. They are texts all on their own, written by Love, the curse that is human nature, and their own free will. They biologically exude wonder, and confusion. And longing. Some know for what and others reach blindly for things unknown to them.

Our existence as humans is a sad one, but it’s also so powerful. We are a mark of time in a forever multiverse. We’ve broken the rule of infinity. We walk hand in hand with both life and death, and yet we don’t really know either of them.

This sounds like an inebriated spiel, but it’s not. I’m just roaming.

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This Woman

I look at myself today and find no recognition in the best way possible. Who is this happy woman? This woman that dances in the worlds peripheral, no longer conscious of her swaying hips. This girl who laughs unforgivingly, covering no aspect of her joy. This woman who now speaks her mind, and loves out loud, with no fear. This woman… this woman is me. I am her.

Hello, my love. Where have you been all my life? I’m glad you finally made it.

Please, stay.

We Started Something

We started a garden, my God and I. It was inevitable. I was given soil, and rain, lots of rain, and even more sunlight. How could we not have started a garden? It was inevitable. I’m glad.

The seeds were unknown to me at first. I knew what I’d wished to grow, what I’d wanted, what I’d dreamed. For a while I was scared I wouldn’t get it, but even the best seeds can turn ugly, even the best can reject the sun. I planted anyway, still wishing.

It didn’t take long for me to see that I was growing Happiness. I have good eyes, but even the blind would be able to smell it, the sweet scent of yellow, like the faint memory of honeysuckle. It makes me smile, and laugh, and cry. All these things are good under the sun, and in the rain, and in the soil. They nurture on purpose. They nurture with intent to produce good fruit. My God and I love good fruit.

My God and I, we’re growing Happiness on purpose. Every morning, under His sun, I bless my soil with the most tender kisses, and cry love to my gardens roots. I watch my Happiness sprout and grow, and grow and grow. I’m overwhelmed. I’m full. I’m warm.

The weeds try to gossip, but they are just weeds. I think they’re unhappy. Their petals hold no lasting beauty, not like my Happiness. My Happiness is undeniable, indeed.

I never thought I’d have a garden. I also never thought Happiness could grow so near to me. I’m glad my God changed that thought. I’m glad the soil and the rain and the sun were given. I’m glad growth is inevitable. I’m glad.

7.4.18 A Moment

After a day’s struggle, I found contentment on the remains of an old shed, watching the man I love and the father of our adoptive family play a game of horseshoe. We were living under a cloudy sky as soft breezes rolled through, following the setting sun, kissing our sweaty skin. Across the fence, the neighbors were playing nostalgic records, lighting sparks in the bodies of young music lovers, warming up sweet memories of childhood, of barbecues in big back yards, and playlists the grown folks claimed we “didn’t know nothin’ bout.” And maybe we didn’t at the time, but now we’re grown. Now, as were living past the age of bubbles and tag with cousins of cousins, just a moment’s swaying tune has the power to bring a past we could never know to a present we have yet to understand.

Do grown folk’s ever understand?

I think, after looking back on the blessing that was today, sometimes understanding is overrated. It’s the feeling that’s undeniable. It’s the experience that permeates the ages.

Experience is everything.

Today’s experience was everything.

Let Me Explain

I feel kind of redundant coming back to you guys in this manner because I literally was just like, “Hey! I’m back! Here’s my brain! Read it!” Maybe this feeling is irrelevant, I don’t know. All I know is I’m trying to start something, or spread something. It could possibly be a brand in the future (maybe now?), but at the moment it’s more of a mindset, and in order to start and spread this mindset (brand?) successfully, you guys need to understand exactly what it is.

My very first post, “Untitled”, touched on this topic. I don’t think it was very direct for (like) 99% of the post. It was actually kind of sad. I think I only mention “yellow” once. In the last sentence I wrote, “I’m painting my walls yellow.”

That is the important thing! It’s the most important! It’s the whole point!

Let me stop yelling. Let me explain.

First: the color yellow in practice (specifically through sunshine) revealed its importance to me a little while back. Although I have not yet been diagnosed, I know for a fact that I struggle with anxiety. Add in a few depressive episodes here and there. But what’s new? In today’s world, this statement holds true for most people, give or take some intensity. It seems to be one of the devils favorite new weapons of mass destruction. It’s unfortunate, but because he is not the ultimate ruler, we (the sufferers) have been given good things, little and not so little, that shed light on these unfortunate lives we live. These good things vary depending on the sufferer, but mine specifically is nature, more specifically, sunlight. Whenever I’m feeling anxious, I don’t hesitate to make my way outside to find a patch of it to sit in. It warms my soul, reminds me to breathe. It’s my comfort.

Another thing! Sunflowers. I love sunflowers. A while ago I went to an art show with a very close friend of mine. I saw the most beautiful sunflower painting I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It was so beautiful that it left me standing in the middle of a river of art goers, crying, like a very sad woman.

In reality though, I was so happy.

So, I believe I can truthfully state that my spirit is drawn to yellow. Not just yellow in color, but yellow in essence. Yellow to me means bright, open. It means freedom. And freedom is very important to me, someone who is so often trapped within herself. That’s why I always try to sit next to windows, to remind myself that I’m never lacking a peep hole, a way out, and way for Good to reach in.

This leads me to my second point.

As humans living in a world that is so perverted by a being that does not want us to believe we are free, many of us are lead to put ourselves into little gray boxes, and the parts of ourselves that are weakest in standing against the adversary are deemed righteous enough to hold the key to this box, with no intention of letting us out. And for those of us who struggle mentally, who struggle to fight bad thoughts, who can’t seem to get a grip on any type of tangible happiness, we often don’t have the energy to fight for the key. We’re laughed at by the key holder, who says “what’s the point?” We get stuck in a windowless room, living in gray.

This is where the message shines through. Although the energy to take back the key may seem out of reach, the room itself is not, and the opportunity to change the room around is always there.

What I’m saying is, paint your walls yellow! Or purple or red or blue or green! Put up posters, pictures, stickers, lights! Do something with the space you’re given! The world you were brought into might not be ideal, but you were given a great gift: your will power. That is something that can never be taken from you, no matter how weak or far away it may seem. And if you look in the right places, you’ll find an abundance of resources to help you brighten up the small space you inhabit in this world of gray boxes.

You have the paint. Just pick up the brush.

This concept is part of what inspired me to create The Yellow Nook, just one of the spaces in my life that I’ve decided to rearrange. I’ve been writing for most of my life, but a part of me has always deemed my thoughts and expressions unworthy to be shared. So, I’ve kept this part of myself hidden for a very long time. Then, Love sent some sunshine my way in the form of people who wanted to read my thoughts, and who thought it was important for me to share them with others. They essentially reached inside my gray space and flicked a little light on, pointing me in the direction of the paint I’ve been given, softly nudging me into action. Look at me now, a once gray nook, slowly shifting towards the light, bathing myself in yellow, in freedom.

You guys are nooks too, full of colors today’s world has probably never seen before. I just want to remind you that your colors are worth it, and they’re important to the work of the Man who gave the rainbow a purpose.

This is my nudge to you. Do something with the space you’re given.

That’s my spiel for today. I hope I made sense.

 

 

Daily Dose -love misunderstood-

Honesty is key, right? Let me be blunt real quick.

I just suffered through a panic attack (thankfully, not alone this time) because all my life, I’ve been told that I’m selfish, and that I need to get over myself. These words were and are still thrown at me by a woman who I love dearly, one that I can never stop loving because she’s taken care of me before herself my whole life. And I know this woman loves me because she tells me everyday. She’s a woman who’s picked up the slack of everyone around her who has let her down, and has built up the things she’s needed from close to nothing. She is one of the strongest black women I’ve had the privilege of knowing, and because of this, my whole life, I’ve longed for her acceptance and approval. I want to be one of the people in her life that doesn’t let her down. I want to make her proud.

But to her, I’m selfish. And for her, I’ve had to “get over myself” time and time again in order for her to feel comfortable around me, around the person I am. For a long time, the practice of this had me convinced that who I was was a problem, one that she can’t fathom anyone else in the world dealing with without also either pushing me away, or convincing me that I am insufferable. It’s made for some very lonely times for myself, and moments where I’ve pushed people away, people who love me, because I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to deal with me.

I’d been slowly convinced that the person I am was unloveable. And this had been done by a woman who I know loves me! The fact of this makes no sense, but fact is fact.

I’ve realized something though. The person that she is, no matter how much love she has for me, cannot understand me. The person that she is leaves no room in her life for the things that she cannot understand. This leaves me broken, self ripped from flesh. Empty. And if I continue to live empty, just so she can be comfortable around me, just so she won’t denounce me, I’ll end up losing myself completely.

I’m just starting to like myself.

I have yet to talk to her about this. I’m scared. I don’t want her to stop talking to me, and I don’t want to hurt her, but this issue has proven itself unavoidable. Right now I’m just praying for courage. I’m praying for a way to fix the things that are broken, and a window to shed light on the things that are not.

Daily Dose -nameless-

This is a few weeks old. I wrote it while I was at work, thinking about all the times I’ve interacted with people who didn’t find it necessary to learn my name. They were chipping away at me. Since then, I’ve been able to gather a few of my pieces back.

Although it is a few weeks old, my soul still finds it necessary to share. It is not today’s Daily Dose, but it’s worth isn’t defined by it’s “yesterday”.

June 4, 2018 – Traveling through the universe without a name is lonely. And more often than not, you don’t end up traveling without a name because you weren’t given one. No, more often than not, it’s simply that those who travel in your midst find no use in it. For some reason, they only see you as a space filler, a paper weight. And they, in all their self-righteousness, decide to deem your title unworthy, completely unaware of the fact that they have no such power. Their ignorance aids in the misfortune of those whose names go unrecognized, those who don’t yet know to shout their purpose to the farthest reaches of space.

Not too long ago, I was given a few words that touched me deeper than I was prepared for by a woman who broke boundaries. She’s a poet, one who is not afraid to speak in a lyrical language that others might not understand, simply and truthfully because her soul refuses to be silenced. A woman who grows her own magic, by the grace of God, just as she grows the hair out of her own head, natural and proud, and wears her skin the way it was supposed to be worn. Shameless.

This woman, who exudes womanhood and humanity with confidence, said to me, “Sister, walk your beauty and intellect around the world.”

How could I have forgotten?