You Can't Take Nothing That I Ain't Willing to Give...

I remember falling in love for the first time. I mean, head over heels love that left me blind, deaf, dumb and crazy (more about that later). I was so in love with this male (he was definitely NOT a man) that I couldn't see right to do right. And because he was a Do Wrong Male, he helped me on my path to a broken heart. Whatchutalkin'boutwillis? I mean, he was determined to be Playa of the Decade and so he manhandled my heart and you know what? I let him. WHAT?!! Yeah, I let him. At the time, I didn't realize that I played a part in my own tragic love story. That I had a hand in doing my ownself wrong. Yup...sad, but true.

Think about it--how many of us meet someone and we are immediately into them? We stop doing the things we used to do because we feel we need to spend every waking hour with our lover. We change our patterns to fit the schedule and whims of this new person. We become experts in him/her. I mean, you could tell someone how many times he/she blinks per second. You could recognize your lover from a distance simply from the smell of his/her fragrance. And because you are floating on air, you ignore THE SIGNS...You know, THE SIGNS. The little things that make you say, hmmmm...but you ignore them because you are floating on air: Oooo, girl he makes me feel soooo good or Man, she got it going ON!!. And because you've been lonely or you're caught up in the physical or you're just plain simple (because some of us are), you ignore the second thoughts you're having. You know...THE SIGNS!!!

Unfortunately, too many of us lack the ability of discernment. Sometimes, we trust everyone else's words and experiences but our own. We ignore the little voice in the back of our head that is trying to tell us to OPEN OUR EYES. If someone tries to tell us something to help us see the light, we accuse them of hatin' (Imma have to address Hatin' one day because I feel folks get that twisted, too, but back to the topic). We isolate ourselves in our own delusions and we ignore the little things that will become big things simply because we want what we want. At some point, I'm sure that most of us have done it. We want sooooo badly for something to work that we just overlook things that in any other situation we wouldn't tolerate. But love, lust, passion, infatuation, attraction, desire...baaaayyyybeeeee (in my N'Orleans voice), these things get in the way of clarity and good sense.

Now, y'all know I believe in love, especially good love and reciprocal love, but I also believe in doing yourself right. When I was a younger woman, I had some holes in my heart that I believed could be healed with romantic love. When I fell in love, I fell hard and I lost every ounce of sense I had. This person was a liar. Seriously. And I knew it from the very beginning. And because I needed love (a different kind, though), I surrendered my heart, my mind, my health and my womb to this Do Wrong Male. I could have gotten out at any time, but I didn't because I felt like he completed me. Sad, but true. I didn't know then, but I understand now that I needed someone to complement me, not supplement me. But he was young, too and he fell victim to the hypermasculine ideal of the Playa archetype. He was trying to be a Big Man, but really, he was only a too tall toddler in big boy clothes.

And when I finally came to my senses, pieces of me were scattered all over the place. My heart, my mind, my common sense, my pride...they were broken because I ignored THE SIGNS. I could have saved myself so much aggravation, heartache and shame had I listened to my inner voices and used my head, not my heart to lead me. But you know what? I healed and then I grew up. And from that situation I learned that I'm my best thing and that all is fair in love (and war).

When I entered the dating scene again, I was armed with knowledge and clarity. Even when I got swept off my feet by King Charming (princes were for girls and I was all woman by then), I was purposeful in my courtship. I asked questions, I looked at him for what he was (and not for who I wanted him to be). I knew that I had things that I could not and would not accept. These things were not material possessions, they were character traits. I didn't care if he had a car, but I did care if he was dishonest. I looked at the full measure of the man and didn't rush to a decision to intermingle our hearts (and bodies) quickly. So, this time I knew I didn't have to give up parts of myself to get this man. He didn't want anything that he couldn't give in return. And that was the best SIGN of all. In closing, I just want to say to be diligent about who you let in your heart and in your space. Don't give the best parts of you away to just anyone. You deserve more.

Peace.

"Somebody Almost Walked Off Wid Alla My Stuff" by Ntozake Shange performed by Alfre Woodard in the Original PBS Playhouse version of For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf

I'm Somebody's Mama

I have been a mother for almost half of my life. I had my first child when I was still a child myself. At 19 years old, two years out of high school, four years into what I thought was true love, I became a mama for the first time. As I pushed my 12 weeks premature 2 lb. 8 oz. baby into the world, I knew I would forever be changed. And I was right; unknowingly, I stepped naturally into the role that was tailor made for me.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was born to be a mother. I would be at ease with the universe's calling for me to shape, mold and nurture the life of another. True story. And just four days after my beautiful baby was born, I locked horns with an unidentified demon to pull my first born child back from the brink of death. See, I spoke life into him and my voice was the one he heard calling him from a forever sleep; my voice spoke life into him and reclaimed his place among the living. I WON him back from the other side and from that moment on, I knew that I had powers greater than even I understood because I was someone's mother.

I gave birth to two other love children and with each exhale of new life, I felt my powers growing. In each labor movement (for that is what their births were), I felt the beauty of creation come together. I felt God in my children and because of their existence, I believed that there had to be a power higher than myself. I felt wonder in each of their kicks, pokes, flutters. I felt like I had unquantifiable, immeasurable, indescribable power because within my soul new beings were being formed. I was a super she, a maternal marvel because within my womb, wonder was being manipulated into human form and my children were being shaped.

I was enriched by my ability to bring forth life and to extend my physical self to my children's physical selves. In their kisses, hugs, snuggles, tickles, cuddles, I have been restored. See, we sometimes get it wrong as parents and focus on the fact that our children need us. I am telling you, I need my children. In every moment of their existence, I see the imprint of my expectations, the impact of my nurturing and the effect of my nourishment.

My children are loved. If you saw them, you'd know it because their laughter reaches from just above their heads and puddles just below their feet. They believe they can fly because their wings have been feathered by kind words, endless hope and everlasting encouragement. If you see my children, you will recognize that joy is possible because their smiles show evidence of love that spills over from the depths of their souls. My children are loved and when you look at them, you realize that they have happiness to spare and will kindly offer you a cup for your own. When you see my sons' walk, you see the strength of their spines and metaphors of mighty oaks emerge. You see them with their heads held erect, backs strong--walking to their futures, not running from them. When you see my daughter walk, you see the strength of a thousand sheroes who came before her and it is apparent that she has been bequeathed a legacy of graceful determination. Yeah, my kids are magical and in each of their movements, you understand that all they want will be had.

My children represent the best of me and in their eyes, I know that all I am is enough. I am Mother Earth, Mama Day, Ama. I am Mater, Madre, Mami. I am Mama, Ma, Mom. I am loved.

Erykah Badu "Ye Yo"

Poetic Pleasures

I am a Poet by nature and I find much comfort in the written word. Sometimes, no explanation is needed. Many times the images speak for themselves. I would like to share a wonderful poem by the courageously bold Audre Lorde. I am particularly fond of "Coal" and have often recited it aloud just to hear the images reverberate in the air. You might also want to read "A Woman Speaks".

Audre Lorde was undefined by conventional standards of beauty, of sexuality, of the so-called Black voice. Her sharply sensuous descriptions dance and explore and punctuate and excite and challenge and...

I hope you enjoy what is one of my favorite poems:

Coal
by Audre Lorde

I
Is the total black, being spoken
From the earth's inside.
There are many kinds of open.
How a diamond comes into a knot of flame
How a sound comes into a word, coloured
By who pays what for speaking.

Some words are open
Like a diamond on glass windows
Singing out within the crash of passing sun
Then there are words like stapled wagers
In a perforated book—buy and sign and tear apart—
And come whatever wills all chances
The stub remains
An ill-pulled tooth with a ragged edge.
Some words live in my throat
Breeding like adders. Others know sun
Seeking like gypsies over my tongue
To explode through my lips
Like young sparrows bursting from shell.
Some words
Bedevil me.

Love is a word another kind of open—
As a diamond comes into a knot of flame
I am black because I come from the earth's inside
Take my word for jewel in your open light.

Loving Yourself

Hey Beautiful--how much do you love yourself? Seriously...How. Much. Do. You. LOVE. Yourself? Many of us might fall into a rehearsed pseudo-confident, "I love me!!" full of the obligatory neck roll or hand on the hip to punctuate your seriousness about the strength of your self-love. But do you mean it? Down to your core--do you mean it? With every fiber of your being and down to the bone marrow, do you mean it? What do you love about you? What are the things you do well? What needs improvement? Why do you love yourself? Think about it, so many of us put on our game faces, but at the end of the day, we grapple with issues of self-worth and identity. And because of this, sadly, we don't truly know WHO and HOW we are.

Unfortunately, we often measure our value by what others tell us we are worth or by what we have. Both of those methods are sure fire self-love killers if you don't have people who speak greatness into your life or if your material possessions aren't top notch. Guess what? You will always fall short if you compare yourself to what others have. That's a quick way to feel bad about yourself constantly.

You have to know that you are your best thing; you know you best. No one can pour anything into you that you can't pour into yourself. Stop giving the best of you away. Too often, we save the scraps for ourselves because we have been taught that self-sacrifice is honorable. While sacrifice definitely has its place, no one should offer him or herself up as a sacrificial lamb. From this day forward, promise to love yourself without hesitation or compromise. You deserve it!!

To get you in the mood for practicing self-love, here is the classic poem, "Still I Rise" by the incomparable Maya Angelou. Enjoy!!

Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

"Still I Rise" courtesy of poets.org

Soul Food: "Alone" by Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou is Ev-er-y-thang!! I have loved her offerings, poetic and prosaic, since I read her first autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I don't know which I prefer, but I do know that I am always hungry for more when I read her words. I was thinking about my close network of friends and family and realized that I am privileged to have such a strong close-knit circle. I am lucky that even when I feel heavy laden with sadness (thank you Donny Hathaway), I have a crew of folks that I can count on to be there for me in my darkest hours without fail. Like the words in the following poem "nobody can make it out here alone." Too often, we box ourselves into a corner by trying to pretend that we have everything under control. But no person is an island; we all could use someone to help us out once in awhile. This poem reminds us that we need others in order to thrive. You don't have to go it alone. The other side of this is that you should try to help someone out in need: be a blessing to someone's life today...

Alone

by Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking

Last night

How to find my soul a home

Where water is not thirsty

And bread loaf is not stone

I came up with one thing

And I don't believe I'm wrong

That nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires

With money they can't use

Their wives run round like banshees

Their children sing the blues

They've got expensive doctors

To cure their hearts of stone.

But nobody

No, nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely

I'll tell you what I know

Storm clouds are gathering

The wind is gonna blow

The race of man is suffering

And I can hear the moan,

'Cause nobody,

But nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

Nobody, but nobody

Can make it out here alone.

Poem courtesy of http://www.poets.org/ Image courtesy of http://www.gpaulbishop.com