Sweet Somethings from Boo :)

‎"You are a hershey kiss manufacturing plant. Chocolate kisses everywhere. A cupcake factory." - 

Happiness is an invention that dates bock to the XVIII century, subsequently to the Industrial Revolution, we have to be happy because we have consumed. We must own things to be happy (cars, clothes…) that is happiness of the world and it is not appealing to me, I rather have Joy instead. Happiness has never been in my priorities’ checklist, I want to become a … because this supposes a challenge to me, not my happiness. I have moments of despair, anguish and of course joy…like anyone else. - Manuscript found in Accra ~ Coelho

Tha NairaLand news has this on their online article regarding Haiti joining the African Union, "The admission of Haiti to the African Union is a significant milestone of bringing together the black family of Africans as a people."

http://www.nairaland.com/1100660/haiti-joins-african-union


The term 'As a People' is as heavy as it gets. It carries so much water with it. When you say A People - there is value to it, for the first time in my history I am starting to hear Black people being called A People. And I am asking why? 

Once you have met a True Human Being, Let him not disappear from the horizon of your Heart. ~ Rumi

Sweet Somethings

I asked him to tell me sweet nothings but he told me sweet somethings. He sings the Songs of Solomon, yet there is one thing that sets him apart from the wisest man of all time; it is that he teaches. You, us, me and all those that take time to listen. 

How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. 

Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies. 

Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins. 

Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries. 

How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights! 

This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes. 

I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples; 

And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. 

I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me. 

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages. 

-Song of Solomon Chapter 7 KJV 1611

He sings Songs of Solomon and I must admit I am charmed. I am pursued and I am loved. For he is a leader of men; a learner, a firm hand yet teachable and willing to learn.  He never pushes yet he urges. He is patient and sensitive.  He is a listener of the heart, voice and full of Spirit. Crazy and wild, yet tame like a Lion whose heart is as tender as a lamb.When he walks me through the village, with his hand holding mine and I following steadily behind him, I am reminded of my Father’s words; “A man is either a leader of men or a follower of women.” The strong, firm man who is ready to die for something is worth following anytime any day. I have found him whom my heart longs for and I will not let him go. Even I sing Songs of the Dark Princess.

Why are you knocking at every other door? 
go, knock at the door of your own heart.

~ Rumi

"I never really had the classic struggle. I had faith." 
- Denzel Washington - actor, director, art collector

       Until you've found pain you won't reach the cure

until you've given up life

you won't unite with the supreme soul

until you've found fire inside yourself

you won't reach the spring of life.

                                                     ~ Rumi

Tata had a Great Ride

So much has gone down this week from attention to Israel’s treatment of African migrants and asylum seekers to my grandmother passing on.

My grandmother always had a way of leaving an impact.
She collapsed while sharing her faith and her last words were,
“You need salvation I have told you and that is that.” She then took her spectacles off placed them in her handbag along with her bible and then she collapsed.
We are broken. My dad mostly;
I once heard Jakes say that when he sees people who still have their mothers
 he pains for them because there is no pain like that of losing your mother.
My dad says he always prayed he would be with his mother while she passed on
and he was right there holding her.
 I am glad and sad for him at the same time,
 “Life is such a glorious trauma, is it not?” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Avenged

A part of me died when she passed on.
My grandma always smiled at me.
She always smiled no matter what happened.
I loved to play with her hair.
She tried to speak English and she was good at trying.
She pronounced the words, “How are you?”
very clearly and with much confidence.
She was strong, passionate, loyal and extremely honest more like curt.
No wonder I get my being curt from her.
I get many things from my grandmother.
My grandparents loved each other with a fierce,
 honest and loyal love that I am always awed at the memory of it.
 It’s the kind of love some say does not exist.
You know the one where a day away from the other person
 is like a year even after sixty years together?
When one was not well and they came to our town for treatment,
right after seeing the doctor my grandfather would say he needed to leave
because he was concerned about leaving his wife all alone.
He would go to great lengths to explain how she would struggle to take the cows back to the shed ( even though he knew she had help).
Then he would talk about how she might need help doing this or the other.
They could not be apart for more than a couple of days.
They had a healthy and intimate relationship where vows, commitments and loyalty were the driving forces.
Their relationship was the lock and key kind, I’ve seen it with my parents and a couple of their friends. I still believe in it, no matter how much water goes down the thing.

This week, while I mourned for my grandma I read through the book of Ecclesiastes
because I needed to remind myself of how meaningless life is.
A week ago Ida and I had been talking about death and the feelings that come with those who are left behind. I said death makes you realize how meaningless this life can be.
We are here one day and another we are not.
What is the point of this?

She replied, “Not meaningless. Maybe despair sets in. You want the bells to toll no more, and for the day to stand still. To have a day of silence and then you want everyone to know what you know and feel what you feel.”

And despair did set in.
 I decided to watch drama/ romance movies - the ones that make you think life lasts forever
and it’s blissful despite the huddles.
I went over twenty three of them and they did help numb pain.
Yet the time between the ends of a movie and searching for another was filled with groans.
It’s almost as if I had barbed wire cut through my flesh.
You know that sort of searing pain you only feel when you hit a gravel road – its happened to me so I know. My grandparents were a big part of who I am.
They named me. They called me nothing else but Amoding.
My grandmother always wanted to raise us, she hoped my parents would leave us stay with her, but they wanted to raise us themselves. 
When I think of who I am today, I can’t think of myself without my grandparents.

Does it mean a part of me died this week?
Or does it mean a part of my grandmother lives on in me?
I want to think she lives on in me.
Maybe this is really why people have children.
Maybe life is not as meaningless as Solomon thought it was.
My parents say she had a very decent funeral.
 Our family and friends took over every detail of arranging the service and burial.
Mother says it was beautiful; grandma did have a way of leaving an impact.
The impact of the children and grandchildren she had.
The impact of a life well lived and a fierce love for her family; the impact of a wife who was always by her husband’s side – such people leave us never the same again.
When they go they go in style. 
I once read something that went like this, “When I leave this earth, I want to enter the gates of heaven swooshing past with a cup of coffee in my hands and saying, “wow! That was a great ride!”  

Grandma had a great ride!

“Life is such a glorious trauma, is it not?” 
― J.R. Ward, Lover Avenged

"Oh...God...Letting go meant you accepted what couldn't be changed. You didn't try to hold on to hope in order to coerce a change in fortune...nor did you battle against the superior forces of fate and try to make them capitulate to your will...nor did you beg for salvation because you assumed you knew better. Letting go meant you stared at what was before you with clear eyes, recognizing that unfettered choice was the exception and destiny the rule. No bargaining. No trying to control. You gave up and saw that the one you loved was in fact not your future, and there was nothing you could do about it.”

― J.R. Ward

Stitch By Stitch

Blue and black, heart torn out,

You uncover what's beneath my skin

There and back, there's no doubt, your touch is my medicine

I'll be okay, 'cause you heal me...

And I'll give you all my pieces broken

In your hands, there's nothing that you can't fix

My heart is frayed, my scars are open

So put me back together now, stitch by stitch

Put me back together now, stitch by stitch.

What you say, without words, resuscitates what was numb inside

So repair me, every thread of me, 'cause you're bringing me back to life

I'll be okay, 'cause you heal me...

And I'll give you all my pieces broken

In your hands, there's nothing that you can't fix

My heart is frayed, my scars are open

So put me back together now stitch, by stitch

I'm still afraid of falling; somehow it's takin' over me

Don't ever let me let it go...

There and back, there's no doubt, your touch makes me whole again

And I'll give you all my pieces broken

In your hands there's nothing that you can't fix

My heart is frayed, my scars are open

So put me back together now, stitch by stitch

Put me back together now, stitch by stitch

Put me back together now, stitch by stitch

By Javier Colon 

God's sovereignty positions you where you are. - Suruma

Quote of the Week

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity." – The Alchemist

la carte de la vie

He walked into my room today and said I must be bored because I was watching Def Poetry. I like Def Poetry. I love Poetry in general. Why do we sneer at people when they are taken up with what we do not fancy. Anyway so I smiled. Said I liked poetry. Have you ever wondered what road in life you are going down? I just finished reading Son of Hamas by Mosad Hassan Youssef intriguing life story with consequences so veridical makes one quiver. For the past six months every week or morning I wake I realize that my road is getting narrower - literally and metaphorically. Less people understand me. I am the odd one out in almost all my friendships. One day someone is so dear and the next day when they are gone, I can live without them. Someone once said it’s a great day when you meet your ex and feel nothing. I think it’s frightening. Frightening that there could be so much passion and hope one day and the next – pure abysm. Is our humanity so mercurial?

My Cameroonian friend and I were talking about his now and then Kyana* who I have met several times but never quite remember her name. I told him he should never marry because I never seem to recall her name even though he reminds me now and gain. I even added that this could be a sign. He said she is the only person he could think of marrying at the moment. One month they are in touch another they are out of touch. It’ an international relationship you see. He said they use themselves for cushion and comfort. I did not ask what this meant. I want to synthesize it myself. An American friend has this on his Facebook status update: Tell someone you love them today because life is short. Also, yell at someone in German because life is terrifying and confusing.

Last week I met a man who makes my heart turnover when he smiles. He is not the man for me yet my heart does things around him, my stomach knots and I want to grab the handles on his wheel chair run away with him and never look back. I attended the Regina mosaic you see. Found the Caribbean one most exciting I must admit it’s a normal human need to be around people who look like you. It gets awfully exhausting to always be the odd one, to stand out, to be different. One of my closest friends wrote me a letter yesterday she said I was born intense. You have to understand she has known me since I was three and I have known her since she was born. She did not shock me per se, she only confirmed some of the things I have been finding out about me. When I read a book, I go all out: make notes and have to find something to draw and walk away with. It’s almost as if I want to waste no minute of my life. Yet one can never be too careful – like when I spent a couple of hours watching The Woman in Black – Those are two hours of my life I will never get back.

After making more than 160 job applications with no job offer I have to admit I am in a dark place. Homeless, jobless and penniless: The less becomes more as the days go by.  A man I admire once said, Lovers meet in dark places and God orders yours steps in crises and dilemma. Maybe the man whose smile makes my heart turnover is the dark lover? He speaks French – I always wanted to end up with a man who speaks one of the major UN languages. Ah, but lists! The past five months of my life back in the States have been packed with lesson after lesson, from finding me to finding my talents to my purpose. You know how Jakes always says, everything happens when you find your purpose and nothing happens until you do. On this narrow and dark road I have finally come to know who I am – what I want – where am going. Nothing is clear but I have some sort of road map. I lost my faith into the journey; I remember the days I refused to pray because I hated to cry. Every time I tried to talk to God I cried so much and I stopped praying, believing was too painful it was easier to just take one step at a time. Prayer would give me hope I feared to hang on. I wrote to my sister telling her I had lost my faith. She felt the same way. Nostalgia for the days when I had a childlike faith is setting in. You know that faith that believes with a smile as opposed to tears? Where is it? I feel it close yet I am almost afraid to stretch out because for some reason it might be an illusion.  

* Kyana - Luganda for girlfriend

From Hi Love to Hello there ...

Dear Friend,

BABY!!! You are going to be a mother of two. Why do you think I do not want children? I have decided that I will only bring a child into this world when I meet a man worthy of me. Am I thinking too highly of myself?

I thought I came across as an observer of the world rather than one who is participating in various faiths as an expression of worship to God. I have had the privilege of getting to know people from the Jewish faith, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and I had a roommate once who was an atheist – I must say not all of them are the same. I do not generalize. Yet I believe that there are people from all faiths who have a deep and personal relationship with God and I cant stand anyone who does the pointing finger. Who are we to judge? As an individual I always come back to Jesus – whatever it is I always come back to Jesus – I believe that Jesus came and manifested himself to a particular society to show the rest of us how to live life as a way to worship to God. I do not believe in the reference to the Universe as God – because I believe God created the Universe and I have no business having faith in the creation as opposed to the creator.

A deal breaker (in my view) is any faith that expects me to live by rules. I do not believe in rules, I believe as Paul did that in Christ we have absolute freedom there is no set way to do things but to live in perfect alignment with our faith and conscience. If nothing we do is not in faith and in alignment with our conscience - which of course is pre-determined to be in alignment with God’s when we allow him to be God in our lives – this is sin.

On your observation about nothing Godly coming from here, I think a lot of this has to do with the wide media coverage of everything that goes on in the global North however I think there is as much ungodliness in the rest of the world and we just do not get to hear much about it.

So my dear you should not be worried that I am taking on ecumenical adventures – these are merely observations.

Coelho - when I read Coelho I feel like I have found my soul mate. You should look up his history. One of the things I have learned about myself is that I think in straight lines, I wish I could say there are grey areas in life – but I can’t. Everything we do does not just happen there is always a context and so things only make sense to me when I know the roots.  I realize that he had to do so much soul searching to get to where he is and his books represent his journey in life. I find it very impressive yet I also look at witchcraft as the soul’s desperate need to touch the supernatural. I know it’s one of those experiences I have never and will never have the inclination of exploring (at least I can attest to being more in tune with who I am) but Coelho forced me to understand why people do it.  I think it has a lot to do with control, power and fear – everything away from what Jesus came to show us. I found Brida quite deep sort of like a soul searching guide.

So if is all over, our letters to each other used to start with 'Hi Love' Now its hello There. There is so much told in avoiding a name. Its almost as if he is doing all he can to make me invisible. As if I never was. 

I remember the time when he was my world and I wanted him to fight for me so bad. I still hoped. It’s funny, I had slight inklings of hope and fantasy that he would fight but after seeing the end of it all in an email a couple of days ago, I must admit my faith is pretty dead on this.

You have to tell your mother for me, I am not sure I can talk about it with anyone from scratch again. No energy for this anymore. It drains me. I still cry. Not as much as I used. As the years go slowly by I think the memory fades. The pain not so much, do you think I’ll ever heal? I distrust every man I meet who fancies me. 

I never meant to end on this note. Bummer!  Now it’s all on you to worry and feel sorry for me :(

Love

Me

Choices

I just extended a hand of friendship. Now I learn to detach.

Home and family are becoming a state of love after one has traveled far away from the physical and created ties in places unimaginable. My sister cracked me up today. She always does. I tell her time and again she ought to write a book. We were discussing a certain essay someone decided to write on a ridiculous topic based on “self confusion.”(1) She said to me that if I were ever to have a friend in this state of delirium, I should remember, in her very words that “Some people come into our lives and leave, so make room for those who will take us to a better level. You are like a tree; the delirious one is a leaf whom the wind will blow away. But I am firm, am the root your sister who is going nowhere.” 
 

My Paris friend called today, she is a delight. We talked of men. Rumpus believes that, “we're often reflected in our friends and especially our partners. I'm not sure you can really know yourself without that reflection. it can take months to learn something about yourself a stranger can notice in an instant.”  I like to think this is true. I have learned so much about me by relating with my friends. Another friend has this statement on his signature email, "Our choices,We make them then they turn around and make Us. Choose wisely." If I have said nothing else today, this says everything I am working at. Everyday I am more aware of the choices I make, they do turn around and make us in the end.

Ref. note: (1) A state of mind - usually a very unattractive state of mind which is in essence a delusion that one believes they know for sure who they are and refuses to learn anything else about themselves.  A general and or simple description can be a conscious decision one makes to be confused – am certain this is how my dad would describe it.

Just another opinion

When I was in grad school I looked forward to the weekends, now am out I look forward to weekdays because it is when I get to hear about job applications. Both of us are so wound up with writing job applications. It’s practically done our heads in. I want my own space so I retreat; I even started walking around the house wearing ear plugs, because I need to listen to myself. She is crying sometimes and wondering why the A man is acting the way he is. She talks of moving to City T, thinking she will get a job faster if she can get to speak with people. I doubt it. Everything seems to be done over email these days. So much for the computer age.

There is something to be said of confessions, last week I came to the realization that I really do want to meet someone who is as passionate about me as I he. I also want to have children together NOT alone. I thought once that I could adopt a child, yet now I know I do not want to do this. I am of the belief that children need the experience of growing up in a household headed by the two different sexes on earth. Now you’ll probably start calling me homophobic. I can’t for the life of me, stand terms like this. You probably already know how much I hate boxed terms. Why can’t people just have opinions and go with or leave behind. Everyone should for the sake of their own mind be allowed to have an opinion. I do not see why Obama supporting gay marriage matters at all. If he had said otherwise y’all would have been bitching about him. I think people should have opinions based on their beliefs and values rather than us expecting them to think the way we do. Remember it is a democracy. Why can’t voting just be enough? Thing is I can only speak what I know, I will never claim to understand anything I do not really know about so I hope that I can have children and give them the life and love I had growing up. 

Soul Mate

Sculpti. I told you about him a couple of weeks ago. We played guitar together for a few minutes. He said he was awe struck by the African rhythms I played. Today he sent me a message in the worst way, ‘I need you. You will save my soul if you come down to Ville tomorrow to try out a new guitar I have finished making.’ He makes the most beautiful and strong guitars from bare hands, I daresay. And I like a man who uses his hands. Maybe he has made a special one for me. Maybe he thinks I fell in love with him. It was only a moment. He taught me some country tunes; I taught him some African tunes. We connected. Not the lock and key kind. More like the connection Coelho talks about in Brida. He could be a soul mate – a mutation of our original soul.

So here I am sitting on a rocking chair in a corner at the end of the stair case with my legs up on a table that is home to a big bushy plant with romance slowly dying on me. I just sent off a job application for the job I am going to have for the next two years at least. You wonder why I am this certain. Well my name looks good by the position title. Am sure y’all will enjoy my daily rants while in New York. It’s going to be exciting living there. I want you to be as excited as I am because we are sort of in this together.

Yesterday, we hang out at the Veterans pub in the creepy little town where most people that die either kill each other or commit suicide. A friend came down from Canada to play Bagpipes at a funeral. This was a natural death occurrence, presumably a first. The culprit was a World War II veteran. Our friend wore a kilt and played. He looked good. We listened. Standing outside the church under an umbrella watching from a distance while the family got handed over the flag and the twenty one gun salute was made. I know several other people whose funerals will go like this. I do not want to have a church service funeral. I want to be cremated. Get done with this earthly body. I am not particularly interested in having any remains on earth. I want my family to take a trip to the Indian Ocean and scatter my ashes there and then have a day and night of partying – where everyone should eat as much chocolate as they can. This will be a memorial. I want people to make happy in memory of me.

Arabic...Nike's...Eye candy & an ex...

Arabic is the language of love and poetry. I am not sure there is any other language that makes poetry this beautiful – and I know only a little of it. “la la lala, bas el sa… lei….wahash…eh la kulu… lei fey kulu, mel mel biti…keda mosh sahl…” and it goes. I intentionally left out the ‘habibi’ part. This is why I have said over and over again that I am going to learn Arabic until it’s the language of my soul. Not to mention I have an Arab lover, he does not know this yet but he will find out soon enough that I am the one he has been waiting for. Sometimes I think he shut me out because once when I was harassed in Egypt I told the world on Facebook, before I could determine who could and could not see my postings that I hated Arab men. Do I sound like a stalker? Please do not answer.

This afternoon I am positioned as a writer sitting on a high bar like chair in the kitchen overlooking lentil fields and listening to Arabic music. I had weird dreams last night that I was sitting for a high school exam. Twice now I have had the same dream. Either I am getting prepared for a test or there is some kind of transformation coming up. I can’t really interpret dreams, yet I think this one has some significance to it. He just asked me where my second trainer was. I left my sneakers at the kitchen door adjoining the garage. He thinks the wind blew it when it blew open the door. I can’t see it across the fields or the yard. He thinks we should check at the next farm, because while he was fixing the Volvo head light for our trip tomorrow he left the garage outward door open and the dogs from the farm across could have taken it. We leave tomorrow at exactly 11:15am. 

Last week at 11:45am there was a sizzling border guard who seemed sweet on me at the border. So we have decided that whenever we have to go to Canada we will leave when he is at his shift. This is what it has come to. Even if nothing happens with him, this will be enough eye candy. I decided to start heading across the other farm on foot, he came driving towards me and said he had found it at the next farm. It was right by the door. Why or why do dogs think this is funny? These are the best sneakers I have had in my life! They are grey and pink and are Nike’s! Even though they cost about $100 dollars I was only given them as a gift. I have already spent an hour trying to understand the mind of a dog. Why steal a shoe and take it to your home and leave it outside the front door? If you are stealing anything go hide it. And then there were shoes right at the front door belonging to him and yet they still went for mine that were in the garage! My sense is that they came looking for the English mastiff we put to sleep and because she is nowhere to be found, they probably think the person with the new smell must have something to do with her whereabouts.

You know how therapists think that when you finally start raising your voice as opposed to being polite there is hope for a relationship. Well, I just raised my voice in an email to my ex who clearly has some kind of moral or mental problem: is there a difference? And even I know this is the end, or it was a long time. I am so fed up of being polite and going around in circles. When I listen to Amr Diab singing ‘B2adem 2lby’ I honestly feel like I am making love and when I listen to Wust-el Balad singing, ‘Arabily’ I think of the main singer’s eyes. I used to hang out with him and his friends at a little coffee shop on Falaki Street in Cairo. I tried having a crush on him but I kept remembering that he was married. 

Two Deaths

We just got back from putting the dog away in a big hole that he dug. She is gone. Coelho says about death – it is God’s way of teaching us about life. I thought I would go be with her while the vet put her down, I changed my mind. When she came back covered in a blue sheet, I could not look at her. I helped carrying her out of the car into the hole under her favorite tree on the farm. We laid her mattress in the hole and buried her with her favorite toy. We cried and prayed. We drove back the same way we went, two She’s’ and I in the back of the truck. I cleaned the house; we ate turkey and watched golf as we talked about her. She will be missed. I broke down after we put her in and walked away to sit by the truck. Away from her grave I talked with the dog. I said sorry to her. Sorry that I could not do a thing for her pain save give her meds. Sorry that I did not pet her because she was such a drool-er and I hated to get the drool on me. Sorry that we had to put her to sleep without asking her opinion. The one thing I learn as I grow older is that I do not want anyone to see me cry. There is something about crying that is intimate, it’s almost as if I am speaking with myself and me is answering in tears. Whenever I have cried and someone came to me, the crying ceased. I and I stop sharing the moment. Today I know to cry away from any intrusions. Sorry this is about the dog. So she’s gone. I am washing all her sheets. I wonder what’ll happen to her stuff.

So my roommate broke up with her boyfriend a few minutes ago. She came down stairs sniffing. I stopped giving she-who must be obeyed a pedicure and comforted roomie; which involved calling the now ex- a hole and joining everyone in judging him on his dodgy excuse for ending the relationship. I see his point of view and yet I also do not see it. But what does it matter they have broken up and nothing I say or analyze here will make a difference. Someone said, ‘what a day it has been. Too many deaths.’ I think it’s just life happening for us to move on to the next stage. Now it’s clear this is not where she needs to spend much time anymore. She has always wanted to go to Toronto. She will go and I will head down south to North Carolina. Maybe even New York when a job comes through. It’s almost midnight and am hungry again. I must be ovulating; I want a friend who can go down with me to the kitchen and eat all the food there is to quench this hormonal craving. She came with me. I just had turkey and a diet 7up. I miss my parents. Sometimes I honestly believe that they are the only consistent love affair in my life. So my face is evidence of my encounter with chocolate this past week. I hate the pimples but love the chocolate. It does things to me nothing else does. Ida recommended the movie ‘nine and half weeks’. It frightened me at the same time made me smile. It’s a sick movie. A horrific- romance tale of two people with insatiable desires, and I daresay pretty dim-witted. Now that I think of it, am sure most people are insatiable, culture does the taming. I told her I had two dates this past week; she refuses to accept and says, a group date is no date. I enjoy being with him in other peoples company.

It’s raining. I love rain. There were so many Wild Deer walking around the farm today. I wrote two emails, happy ones. I only do happy these days. We were reading Coelho’s quotes as we drove down yesterday and one of them said, ‘there is no sin in being happy.’ I used to think it was cool and romantic to be melancholic. Sounds like the sick part of the romantic horror of a movie I just saw. 

They say...

I need to moisturize my hair every day or it gets brittle and breaks. My name means oasis in a desert. Some kind of fertile places in a wilderness so my people say - they also say that it’s that place where they went to find fish when there was a drought. It all resonates with water and dryness. Dryness  only exists because water does. My hair has to have water every single day, yet I am no desert. Ask my husband he’ll tell you that I am a waterfall. Around me everything springs with life, my children, my home and himself. He is he husband who sits at the town centre with the other men and he is praised. 

 It is spring in this part of the world, but the weather people say we should expect snow. Maybe if I tell you it’s almost three days to May you will understand. I was born in the summer where everything has color and is color. When the sun is at its peak in most of the world, even Iceland gets some sunshine in July. My best friend said I sound different in a good way. It scares me. Different used to make me happy. Now am afraid that I might be the one with my head down while the entire world has its head up. They say when it comes to this you know there is a problem. Please do not ask me who said.

Rules

'Most of our problems come from just that- following rules.' Paulo Coelho

I have to learn to let myself go. Rumpus just said everything I have been trying to say for the last week and if I say it now you will probably think I am plagiarizing so I’ll just go ahead and quote him -I had to come against the end before I started going all crazy about being napputural – when I said it came upon me by accident this is what I meant. It took losing it all to come to the point of walking away from everything I knew to do for my hair, there was nothing more to hang on to and then I was able to be creative again.

Yet I have to learn to let myself go as much as I have to learn to let my hair be. Every so often I am massaging my scalp, checking every few hours in the mirror to either see what my hair looks like or whether it’s grown. I have to allow things time to grow. But like every writer I like speed. I like good views, yellow walls and popcorn. I just finished reading ‘The witch of Portobello.’ I know why Paulo Coelho is praised so. He has a way with the soul – understanding that our humanity does not end where it is at.  I can relate with someone who knows for sure that there is not much fulfillment in following rules. 

Deepak Chopra says, " To rule your soul is like ruling creation. Its above even the gods" Or angels. 

I always broke the rules in boarding school yet there has always been something about me that makes teachers and parents love me. My best friend thinks it’s my eyes. When I was in secondary school, I could not follow any rules, when it was prep time – I read novels. When it was time to go to the fields to till potatoes or whatever it was I charmed a prefect and just stood watching everyone, or faked a leg ache. Something had to happen. When we were told never to go over the grass but use the paved walk ways I just could not do it. My grades were so bad in high school and I never cared. When my parents were mad at me for poor grades I just looked at them and said nothing – they never remember this because for some reason I managed to divert their concerns with my eyes. When I was told I could not date, I did – and look what became of it. I finally found me. Some people are simply wired to divert from the status-qua. I find status-qua draining. So I break rules by not keeping rules

Who's laughing now?

A woman who understands her hair understands herself. Am not talking about length and volume here; as I experience my hair for the first time I am also starting to understand myself much better. It’s almost as if my hair is everything about me. When I plait Bantu knots without moisture it breaks. It needs olive oil to gloss and honey to hold. My hair is many things, just as I am many things. It’s kinky and breaks all the time when its ignored. I do not like to be ignored – first time I admit it. I remember reading a cancer horoscope that said cancer’s hate to be ignored and even as much as I do not believe in the stars determining my course of action this resonated with me. I quickly stopped reading for fear that  I would start believing. I have an ego as big as my hair, but it needs to be humbled, nourished and made beautiful. Whoever heard of an ego looking beautiful? This is where mine is headed. Half of my hair is one type and the other is another. My back hair which you probably would not see when you looked at me, is curly, soft and grows faster than the front half; which is most of what I am. On the front I am as complicated and hard as my front half hair. On the back I am soft and curly, with a tender disposition – you have to get to know me to understand this side of me.

Apparently we should never lose our childish enthusiasm and everything will come our way.  He said to her that she should stop being so sad because if she kept this way he would be forced to make love to her and yet he had never cheated on his wife before– under the Tuscan Sun. Are men driven by sadness in a woman? Or is it just as warped a concept as my mind perceives it to be. A lady in Mid-Somers Murders just sneered at her extremely religious sister Harriet, ‘I have never understood how you live your life, when it is dead you pray for it and when it is alive you criticize it.’ Her sister could not get along with a single soul. If you keep on wallowing you will never be happy. I want to move to Italy after I have lost sixty pounds, find a house, learn French, eat so much pasta and write for a year. After this I want to move Morocco and eat so much meat and vegetables, learn Arabic for four years and raise my daughter there. Have an open house with no walls. And I can only be happy when I have a large kitchen – I believe the kitchen is the soul of the house. If a kitchen is dull and cold, the whole house will have the same spirit.

Nothing in life is regrettable. One of my friends is being sweet on me. I am as vulnerable as my hair right now. Searching for what makes it come alive. Any instant gratification could be considered the right thing, so I will hold off. Keep trying various products until I find the right now. It has to be natural, like honey. Yet honey alone is not enough to make it healthy, I need to come up with the best ingredients to make it healthy. I can’t afford to settle on the first man that expresses warmth to me or the first man I let myself look at. I should know better than to do this. No matter what happens the Tuscan movie says; always keep your childish innocence it’s the most important thing. An ex always called me naïve. He thought he was insulting me. Who laughs now? I wonder what my baby hair was like. In most of all my childhood pictures save for one, I did not have hair on my head. I have never had the chance to know my hair like I have never had the chance to know me. You never take away what is natural. You should never run away from it. We do. I have done. We black women run away from what is natural. We straighten our hair and add artificial pieces to it and get overwhelmed with the unnatural and ignore the natural. When this happens we lose us. We forget that our natural hair is in alignment with our hips, lips and breasts. That if we had straight hair it would cover the curves of the breast and hide the beauty of our lips. That to have our hair growing upwards is to defy gravity, to be pulled up rather than weighed down.

You know how that movie ends, “you know they say they built the railway line from Vienna to Venus before the train was made because they knew that one day it would come.’ Then you know the movie is about Faith. I am a dreamer. A small message makes me create a world. I have created many worlds in my head. Maybe it’s really possible to read too many books and imagine that life is purer than it really is. 

Good Hair

My friend’s dog has cancer and it’s on very strong pain killers.  Someone just suggested that when she goes he is going to feed the dog’s left over drugs to the stray cats that hang around. I laughed. Was that mean? I mean I could picture what would happen. The cats would probably fall into a three day slumber and the idea of drugged sleeping cats all over the lawn is not very attractive. Someone on TV – Criminal minds- just asked whether the son of a serial killer ever has a chance.

No one ever tells you how hard it is to maintain good hair. It’s the first time I am keeping my hair unlocked and working on growing it. This means it has to be moisturized two to three times a day since I have 4Li hair – it’s kinky and with s-curls. It’s been exciting having to make up my own moisturizers and a great realization has been – my hair thrives on honey. I am also learning that a woman’s hair has a lot to do with her than anything else – especially a black woman’s hair. I have this friend who once gave me a three minute lecture on my hair. She wanted us to start blogging and talking online about our hair, even though we saw each other  about twice or thrice a week. She said to me, ‘Our hair is beautiful. Its unique it grows upwards and so defies gravity.’ I was sold.

When Paul talks about a woman’s glory being her hair, I think he meant so much more than the length and volume of it.  Going completely natural came as an accident. I had given up trying to maintain my kinky s-curls and decided to go all Brazilian Keratin. I did not want any chemical in my hair and the best option at the time was to use no-lye on my hair. Every black woman I talked to about Keratin encouraged me to use it. Keratin is a renowned hair product that has an abundance of protein and keeps the hair straight and smooth easy to comb and style. This I did. It’s expensive but by this time I could do anything for my hair. It’s what Oprah does to her hair. Usually doing a Keratin treatment in Minnesota costs about $350 however just before I went off to Brazil, I met a lady at work who told me a salon in town was doing it for half price and she was going to do it as well. That day I spent over $250 dollars on my hair because I had to buy the keratin shampoo and conditioners. I decided to stock up so that I could have enough for when I moved to Brazil and Egypt. That day I dyed my hair a golden brown color too.

I did wear that colored hair for a few months. I loved it. Never had color in my hair so this was part of feeling liberated until my friend straightened my hair three months later in Cairo and it started to fall out. Within three days my hair went from over 12 inches to 2 inches. People asked me if it hurt me. Some of my friends asked if it affected my self-esteem not to have any hair. For real, it did not affect my esteem nor my feelings. I did wear that short hair with pride. The loss of my hair brought me to a stage where I did not care anymore about my hair. And then I started looking at black hair blogs that a friend had sent me. I admired people’s natural kinky s-curls and I have been hooked since then.

Today it’s exciting to create my own hair moisturizers- am learning that my hair needs as much nourishment as my own body. The lessons are numerous – For so long I have ignored my hair yet I realize everyday how each part of my body is as important as another part and each part needs as much attention as the rest to make me beautiful.

There is something about hair that teaches us about us. For black women its understanding what kind of hair you have to what it needs and what it thrives on. My 4Li type hair is not naturally moist and so I have to provide it with an abundance of moisture, while my friend B’s hair is soft and cushy and does not need as much moisture as mine does we both have kinky black hair. As I spend time moisturizing my hair I am learning that my body needs as much attention as my hair. I need to tone up to look as good as I want. I need to moisturize my skin because it needs the moisture and my mind needs to be refreshed with good reading and laughter… and the list goes on. So my hair is teaching me that my whole body is a garden. Am also learning that my hair thrives on honey as much as my body does love honey in coffee, tea, curries and roasts. My body thrives on olive oil and Shea oil as much as my skin and stomach do. So my hair is telling me that it is everything about me as the rest of me is everything about it.

For the first time in my life I am aware of how attentive I am to my body as a whole. I know what I need to feel good, I know what I need when I feel weak and I know what I need when am bored. My mind is a beautiful thing. I am aware of me and I love me. 

My hair loves honey! Started using honey as a hair moisturizer; mixed it up with raw Shea oil, coconut oil, olive oil, Monistat 7, water and a nexus leaving in conditioner. My hair responds to honey as though that is what it was made for, no wonder my name means bee. Excitement fills my days as I realize what my hair needs to flourish.

What people think of me is not my business if I start to make it my business I will be offended for the rest of my life -

Life is not happening to you but happening for you – everything that happened in my past becomes a force to leverage me into the future. Life is not happening to, but happening for me I am not what happens to me I am the spirit in which the happenings come and go…the despair and joy- I am a deeper soul in which all these things happen. I am the higher reality. I think this sounds more like Deepak than myself. Yet I believe it all.
Pursue excellence ignore success. What is the gift in my addictive behavior – move from spirit to spirit. Addiction is a search for ecstasy – exaltation – ends in oblivion. I could use this addictive tendency for healing and transformation – habits create a lack of awareness- Life is not happening to you but for you – to enhance you to help you to grow. Every single thing that is happening becomes a force to leverage you into the future- You are not what happens to you – you are the spirit in which the happenings come and go. Comings and goings pleasures and pains – I am a deeper soul in which all these things happen.

Un-forgiveness has everything to do with me and nothing to do with the other person. It blocks me from taking the risk of love. Robs  me from my future. “TD jakes – Letting go”
Letting your forgiveness be predicated by someone else’ behavior is like leaving your thermostat remote in his house so he can control it. No one’s behavior should control your response. When people say things about you that are not true reject them. Do not adopt their reality as your reality. Move yourself from harm’s way- What you did does not matter anymore- no longer affects how I live in the now and in the future. I am not going to let what you did to me continue to affect the way I live now. I do not want to be defined by what happened yesterday but by the future not by the past. I can’t afford- Life is too precious to allow these moments to determine my response. I am not trying to forget, if I forget I lose the wisdom from the incident. I want to remember so that I do not repeat it, or learn from and draw lessons from it. So that I can be wiser, our outreach to others is born from it.

Mix cake ingredients – Baking powder or sodium bicarbonate are just gross on their own. One segment of life in isolation is bitterness. Yet when we add all these segments we realize we are many things. All of a sudden our lives are beautiful and tasty when all these various segments are brought together. I cannot forgive what I cannot understand. It’s so much easier to cope when I understand the person. I can then adjust my expectations to deliverables on the level of the others capacity. Do not expect someone to love you on a gallon level when they are a pint person or I will be frustrated for the rest of my life. You can’t keep being around pint people when you are a gallon person. ‘
No thing, no material possession matters in terms of defining who you are– Oprah. Use your life to come alive this is when you most come alive- My job is to feel my calling and honor it. Setbacks push you in the right directions.

Just finished reading ‘Brida’ by Paulo Coelho after staying up all night reading it, It’s been a while since I last read a gripping book. For a while I had stopped believing in soul mates, you can guess why. I have been beaten once  in love. Generally I tend to look over men, for fear that I might fall in love again and then history just might repeat itself. Plunging in and making mistakes seems to be Paulo’s conclusion of life. If he were to sum up life in two words it would be ‘risk plunging’.  There are some things in life I do so well. I have not yet found out why I am here to start honoring that specifically. Yet I know there are some things I love to do.

An Accomplished Woman

I am looking at acres of expansive land; the doors are glass and stretch from near the ceiling to the floor. The phone just rang; it was the owner of this house – probably checking in to see if I have thrown a party. Whitney is singing, she assumes that her song will be played when making love or by lovers. I hate when musicians assume that their songs will only be appreciated by only lovers, they seem to forget that some people may be alone for longer that they want to. A friend of mine sent me a video about how vulnerability should not be comfortable and excruciating but necessary. I am a researcher and my life is about working towards, sighting issues, predicting constraints and controlling situations how does this blend in with allowing things to be necessary. I need to have a hold on something for goodness sake!  Anyway at least she ends the video explaining the one thing I agree with which of course I can attest to being a proud product of. My parents are not perfect, yet one thing I will always thank them for is the fact that they brought me up reminding me daily, through discipline that I am an imperfect person and because life is full of struggle I am wired for it and therefore have the strength to fight and thrive. Yet in spite of all this I am worthy of love and belonging. To this effect I am an accomplished young woman.

What I really want to say...

I loved you with a careless naïve sort of love. With reckless abandon I loved you.  I am not sure you ever loved me back the same way. Or does that even ever happen? So right now I do not give a damn whether you care about this relationship or not. I just want out! I care less and less what you think of me. I want to sound nice. I want to be nice. But nice just died on me. It came and went with naivety. I lost my innocence when I hurt.  I let you hurt me because I let myself trust   you. I am pounding gently on our mahogany table. Well it’s really his, he paid for it. I want to make a scene like they do in the movies. Maybe when I walk out I’ll slum a door for effect.

I am speaking softly. I always wanted to speak this way. I never used to but after living with T for three months I have learned that yelling does not move him. It’s the temperate in my voice that makes him listen. I have a cousin who speaks like this and it’s taken me practically eight years to learn to speak softly. It’s a good thing for times like this. As I catch his attention, he sits upright and I know it’s time to tell him the stages.

In stage one, you hurt so bad and pity yourself. Then in stage two, you hurt and are angry both at yourself and at the person who hurt you. You wonder how naive you could be, maybe even foolish. The healing begins in stage three when you sever the code between you and the other person. Some people call this forgiveness. Others might say its letting go. I want to say this is when I do not give a damn anymore and finally in stage four you  get  in tune with phrases like, ‘once bitten, twice shy,’ and the one that goes, ‘you fool me once…’

No, do not say sorry. It’s all good. You and I fell in love in a hopeless place. Literally. I am just ranting because I practiced this speech for when he returned from his day at the circus. T worked at the circus. Not much can be said of a circus man or she who falls in love with one. I wanted to sound prepared as if whatever happened has been a stepping stone to where I am at this moment. You have to understand not giving a damn about you has saved me so much. My hair has grown four inches more than if I cared. My skin is smooth and my weight is stable. My hormonal balance is as good as balance gets. So no apologies- I am pointing my index finger at T- you and I are not good for each other. We both want different things in life. I am feeling snarky when I say this, because I know he is burning with regret. But I continue to sound nice, I want to sound genuine. But there is a thin line between being genuine and being sarcastic – at least for me. I am playing spider solitaire as I say all this. In honesty I really do not give a damn. He broke my clay pot; the one L gave me so I would always think of him when I looked at it. I wanted to be a little crasser, maybe even curse at him. I just can’t get myself to do it even when am all alone. I think my guardian angels sure do not like such words. I continue – I know that the decisions we have both made are for the best. I wish you all the best in life. I can’t say.  ‘I wish you peace, fun and love’ – no that’s wishing too much for such a soul. What I really want to say is, ‘I wish you could have your gizmos injured so bad that they fall off.’ Or something like, ‘I hope you live to regret every day of your life for not fighting for me.’ Even more I want to say that, ‘my sister wishes for you to get lice in your privates and your hands grow shorter so that you cannot scratch when you itch.’ You should meet my sister. She is an intelligent soul with overflowing wit. Instead I look up from my game, smile and say, ‘I have to go now.’ Three months, was this all? Why am I acting like it was years we had together. I barely even took my top off. Once or twice I must admit I showed a nipple or two.

I have barely moved an inch when he opens his mouth. His lips are not as attractive as I thought they used to be. Am just human, we humans make 340 degree turns, watch the point we left off from a distance of 20 degrees and nothing is ever the same again. T asks if he can tell me about how much he will miss me. I look at him for about a minute before I respond. For a moment it feels like I am at a visitation in a mental institution. He asks again. I reply, ‘If you want to tell me so that I know what is going on with you as friends would do, do not bother; I do not care at all. However if you want to tell me for therapy, you will be wasting your time because I will walk away and you will be wasting your own time since I do not give a damn. If you want to tell me so that I can be happy for you, I still do not give a damn.’ He looks at me with empty eyes and finally I can see he gets the point. Sometimes you have to be mean to be nice. So maybe I am being nice after all.

I shut my computer and walk away. I wanted to be nice. No what I really wanted was to be really mean for this one time. I am always nice, even though not many people I know think so. I do not look back. I just recently learned that looking back means I am interested in you.