in some instances, the most powerful thing an individual can say is nothing. when words fail to sufficiently convey a sentiment or an emotion, silence is one of the purest forms of connection . . . through frequencies, energies and vibes these sentiments, emotions are felt, internalized. there is a time for silence. in those instances, silence is golden.
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It is so easy to get locked into one way of doing, seeing, thinking, and even being because we believe there exists no viable reason to fix that which is not broken since the current way continues to serve us and has done so for so long for so many. Too often the common responses offered up to those seeking a change in perspective is "What for?" or "If it ain't broke, why fix it."
We follow traditions and customs, well, because they're traditions and customs. We're born into a way of life that will shape the way we view and define ourselves and those we encounter. With this introduction we are not only taught how to think, but 'what' to think. We fall effortlessly in line with ideals that imprison instead of liberate and the cycle continues. We live inside the box.
Question: If something is currently working does that mean we adopt a hands-off approach because clearly it is considered a waste of time to look to improve upon what is and entertain the possibility of what can come next?
Imagine if others before us believed this to be true. Would we still walk in darkness without the use of electricity? Would we still believe the earth flat? Would we still etch hieroglyphics in stone to preserve our stories for generations? Would we still be enslaved? Truthfully, we are in a different sense. We are prisoners to ideals and our programming; with one word we've determined whether we'll listen or dismiss the messenger.
What if the laws we believe govern us governed nature? Would the seed stop growing after cresting the soil? Would the chick remain confined in its shell for fear of the unknown? Would the fawn fail to stand upon birth because it believed the task too complex? Thankfully nature isn't restricted by our beliefs. All things of nature grow, becoming what they were intended to be. The elements innate. We, too, however, are nature and so it, too, is inherent.
Imagine our world if the dreamer believed change wasn't necessary and what is is what should continue to be.
It's in the asking; the answers come when we ask questions that challenge conventional truths.
Ever have someone tell you what you couldn’t do? How your dreams were too big? How what you wanted to accomplish was a veritable impossibility? How did what they share about your dreams, your aspirations make you feel? Did they empower you or did they make you doubt your ability? No matter what was said nor the message conveyed or who said it, those words had an impact. All words do. How you choose to allow those words to effect you is of importance. It is a matter of cultivating the graveyard of dreams or nurturing the birthplace of the greater tomorrow you envisioned.
This is one of the primary reasons why it is important to protect your dreams, your passions. It is also one of the reasons why many choose to keep their dreams private. In sharing, there exists the opportunity for someone to utter words that will snuff the kindling passion birthed in your gut, creating a mountain of doubt were only peaks and occasional valleys originally existed. Yet there are others who, upon hearing the naysayers list of reasons for caution or redirection, use those words as further motivation. Instead of snuffing out, the contrary occurs — the spark to succeed in spite of.
Regardless if whether the comments are external or from the internal monologue that, at times, plagues each of us, the internal response should always be the same: watch me.
Some people in their sharing of advice or counsel, honestly believe they mean well. They believe they have your best interest at heart. Cull through their words, determine what serves you. If there are words of truth, keep them. Analyze and see what adjustments, if any, are necessary. All words which do not serve you nor your intended purpose, shelve or dismiss.
When others put limitations on the heights we can attain, there is a moment of defiance each individual feels. In those moments, you believe in the possibility of your dream. So much so, you can taste it and may have even imagined what it feels like to walk in it. Remember these moments and set out to bring your dream or next greatest achievement to fruition making it your reality. Develop a plan, endeavor to accomplish something every day that places you one step closer to your goal. Outline your steps. Your intention will drive your outcome.
By sheer will, perseverance, hard work and determination, with eyes set on an what can be, move forward and walk into your tomorrow. Enjoy every success of each completed phase. When you've accomplished your task, achieved your dream and are able to live in its reality, there is a no need to gloat. Your success will adorn you and will serve as a catalyst for shifts in the lives of others you, directly and indirectly, impact. Make sure to listen to the stirrings of a new dream, a new height and move forward blazing a trail for yourself and others. And if you're ever privileged to hear another's dream, be on the receiving end of a 'Thank you' and not a 'Watch me'.
So what do you wish to accomplish today? Tomorrow? In five years? Ten? Think about it. It isn't selfish to desire a better life; it is disheartening to deny yourself the possibility of experiencing one. In receiving and achieving, you're able to give and inspire.
* Originally posted on BlackHairKitchen.com March 29, 2013 *
- Did you see her last night? I can't believe she allowed herself to be filmed wearing that?
- You got a mirror? I suggest you look in it, because clearly you did not have an opportunity this morning.
- Wait? Tell me she isn’t wearing white after Labor Day? Who told her that was acceptable?
- She lip-synched the National Anthem? And with all that pageantry. What the hell? Chile, puh-leez! She needs to go sit down with that foolishness.
- She should just slap a perm on that crazy mess of hair! Walking out the house looking like that. It's embarrassing.
- You know she should just go on and BC. Remove all that chemically processed hair and embrace her natural beauty.
The verdict has come in. The gavel has come down.
We are GUILTY.
What’s sad? It doesn’t matter if we don’t know the details, or perhaps we have a few or we know the entire story, we (me, myself and you) render ourselves judge, jury and issue a scathing verdict, broadcasting worldwide via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and some other social media site sharing our judgment on the matter. Sometimes it's regarding a primetime reality show and sometimes it's our relationships with each other.
In Los Angeles and New York, media moguls are reclining around the table in a boardroom brainstorming possibilities for the upcoming spring and fall season television line-up, hoping to bring to market the next big reality show. Armed with data reflecting the viewing habits of certain demographics they know that cattiness and bitch fests are slam dunks. Their bottom line is increased because cattiness sells and bitchiness sends the ratings into the stratosphere. Female viewers are more interested in watching women gouge out another woman’s eyes, tug hair, kick arse or speak words that incite rage, fury and are blatantly disrespectful.
With all of our daily chatter, I do believe we make their jobs easier. We provide them with the narrative and from this they storyboard, focus group and package to the masses. Do we object? Or do we subject ourselves to hours of watching? What's worse? When the show is over, we cut a side-eye at a sister on the street and wonder what her objective could be.
What was once man’s ultimate fantasy has become our own: Women wrestling in mud, slipping and sliding all over the place in bikinis and the like. When did that become something we actually enjoyed? The catfights? The name calling? The neck rolls? The eye rolls? The ridiculousness of it all?
Now I know I probably stand alone on this limb — with a few million women — but watching that is not my idea of entertainment. Regardless of race, I do not want to watch my sisters treat each other in disrespectful ways. Granted, reality dictates there will almost always be someone who aggravates us and steps on our last good nerve, but why broadcast the fallout in such grandeur. What's the objective? To hurt? Or perhaps laugh at someone's pain?
You want more responsible programming? We have to be responsible consumers. I still believe in the power of the people. Television programs require viewers. These programs require financial backing from advertisers. Advertisers remain vested based on numbers. With dwindling numbers, programs are cancelled. It has been proven throughout history, when there is enough of an outcry or demand for change of any kind, the most beautiful thing imaginable occurs: revolution.
Once upon a time, we moved mountains, changed laws, redefined a people and that's only in this nation. Don't tell me it cannot be done. The world over we've seen proof that mountains of impossibilities are scaled by perseverance and determination of a united people.
I don’t judge you, my sister. Here’s my hand. I stand with and walk along side you because you are a reflection of me.
The revolution must be televised! Let’s script it.
* Originally posted on BlackHairKitchen.com March 12, 2013 *
This piece has been sitting in my spirit for some time. However, I never saw the need to put pen to paper to give it form ... until this weekend. When inspiration rears its head, I tend to listen. Recent observations birthed this latest post. Click the chick and enjoy.
So the characters are back, occupying my sleeping and waking hours.
As Chase and Tia's story continues in this third book, I find that I cannot write or type fast enough to get every word down before they advance the scene or jump to another. Conversations, dealings, happenings and conscious streams of thoughts are taking place almost simultaneously. There is so much going on; so much they're addressing and I'm the one left with the task of making sense of it all. Writing the story as it unfolds; capturing it in a manner that you, the reader, can recreate in your mind. Daunting, really, but oh, so very worth it.
My process of writing is one of isolation. Shutting myself off from people and distractions allows me clear access into the story as it unfolds in my third eye. Therefore, I retreat, listen and watch either in my home office or bedroom where I'll type or sit visually capturing the mental images of the scene(s) as they play out.
There is no outline I write from. There is no point I consciously decide to include. The characters drive the story. They always have and they always will. The insertion of the actual events that have happened during the chunk of time in which the story takes place is another element I must keep track of. That alone is the single thing I admit to making a conscious effort to include, especially if I'm guided to believe it bears some relevance to the scene or story in general. Next are conscious streams of thoughts, or words of wisdom. I call them WoWs. Those, for me, are among the best. Well ... that and watching how Chase and Tia and their host of family and friends interact. That's the entire story, really. What am I saying? I love it all.
What my series, Experience Life from a Different Perspective, endeavors to do in books, Conversations: Can We Talk with Trina, Maggie and Norina does on the radio every Monday evening from 8pm - 9pm. The conversations are edifying, inspiring and oh, yes, lots of fun. Tune in and get connected with sisters the globe over. The dialogue has begun.
WBLS hosted a Great Day in Harlem and we were there to support the community, meet people and talk about my series: Experience Life from a Different Perspective, of which It's Simple and Never Said It Was Easy are the first and second novels, respectively. For the most part, the weather was cooperative. There was only a passing thunderstorm that lasted all of ten minutes, if that long. Our children walked the streets, ate delicious food, purchased African art and jewelry, watched the fashion show, listened to soulful tunes from a vendor who digitized the vinyl classics and were finally serenaded by Freddie Jackson under the stars. It was another great Saturday in Harlem and my husband and I fondly expressed to our children, during our drive home, how much we miss the city. Living out in the suburbs, at times, you can feel disconnected.
Folks tend to run from the city once Friday rolls around to enjoy the beach or tranquility of the Hamptons; we seem to run to the city. When you no longer live among the noise that once lulled you to sleep as a youngster, you find yourself missing it.
Photos: Radiant Amar Photography
Dondré (my son in the background)
Tia Maddison (Dolls by MonTQ)