Lightning Shine

Sometimes when I want to hear the words of inspiration, I need to write them. And if they truly want to get me fueled up, they come out in poetic form. So you may have noticed the poems lately as a different writing process. I am an observer just as you. This poem woke me up last night. So in order to sleep I wrote it down. I think my subconscious is feeling electrified from all the writing. So, I sit back, let creativity run its course, and thank you again for your role as an audience. It has given me a sense of voice that is so empowering. I believe allowing yourself to feel inspiried is a form of self-love. And people who love themselves have more love to give others. So thank you for helping me love myself greater, so that I may love you greater as well.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what your thoughts and how your inspriation comes to you as well!

I watched lightning hit my window

my fingerprints burned into glass

It shattered there before me

Taking with it my happy mask

The empty payne stood mocking

My empty pain understood

This window wasn’t for watching

It was keeping me in the should

Freedom roared in the windstorm

Fear crawled under my bed

This was a conscious choice I was making

I was getting out of my head

And so this new world bestowed to me

No room for shackles that confine

I was growing greater inside of me

Guilt and shame no longer collide

The lightning again it found me

Through my vein it flows and resides

So I walk forth with glowing trajectory

With each step my lightning then shines

Sunshine Blogger Award

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Wow. A HUGE thank you to theworldisnotagainstme for the nomination for the Sunshine Bloger Award. I feel so honored that you considered me enough to nominate me for this. It is truly moving.

I had this thought once. What if the afterlife isn’t necessarily a place, but an experience where you have to live for eternity experiencing the emotions you made others feel in this lifetime? So you see, if that were even a little bit true, being nominated for a Sunshine Blogger Award because I made someone else feel good is a pretty big deal.
So heres the rules (make sure to post the rules again if you are nominated):

Thank the person who nominated you in the blog post.
Answer the 11 questions set by the person who nominated you.
Nominate 11 blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions to answer.
So, here we go.

Favourite song?
Hmmmm, well I really do love Poison & Wine (but really anything by them) by THe Civil Wars and Legions/We Insist/Sun will Set (and again, really anything) by Zoe Keating. But music is beautiful (the kind performed by talented people with creativity flowing through them) so depending on my mood, my favorite song can change. ūüôā

Most embarrassing moment?
Oh boy….well, unfortunately there isnt a most, because their are many…but one that pops to mind quickly is the time that I was having dinner at my husband’s coworker’s house. And it was delicous. So I over ate, of course. Which, cause and effect, resulted in me needing to use the restroom. One thing led to another, and I felt so much better..but the toilet had taken a beating. I flushed, the toilet swirled. Then gurgled. Then stopped…and the water began to rise…and rise…and rise. Frantically, and I mean FRANTICALLY I looked for a plunger. People…There. Was. No. PLUNGER!

Side Note: This is a rule I feel everyone should live by, every bathroom should have a plunger. This is just setting guests up for a nightmere if you dont. Please, be kind, provide a plunger.

So anyways, you guessed it, the water continued to rise and my heart continued to sink. I watched in silence as the water began to pour onto their beautiful bathroom floor. Then, I panicked. I grabbed all the towels I could, not realizing at the time that they were the fancy, put out when we have company, towels. So, I threw his nicest towels around the toilet and watched in horror as I realized they were not enough.

Sigh…and unfortunately the story isn’t finished yet….

I thought for a few moments. Realized there was no way I couldnt tell my husband’s coworker his bathroom was flooded. I quickly mourned for my dignitiy and prayed for my husband as I realized he was enjoying his last few moments of ignorant bliss before becoming the man who was married the toilet plugging lady at work. Then, I opened the bathroom door.

The friend was of course a saint, so his elderly mother lived with him. For some reason, I felt that the woman-to-woman connection would be the way to go so I opted to ask her where the plunger was instead of my husband’s co-worker.

So, I asked “Ma’am, there’s an issue in the bathroom. Do you mind telling me where you’re plunger is?”

“What? Speak up!” she said in a volume loud enough to be heard over a heavy medal band

So I repeated myself a little louder.

“WHAT? PLEASE SPEAK UP!”

One more time I asked, and was just about to give up when it finally connected…

“WHAT? YOU PLUGGED THE TOILET? DAVE WHERE IS THE PLUNGER?”

So Dave (my hubby’s co-worker) heard his mother yell this across the house as well with my husband who stood their, jaw to the ground.

Dave graciously went to go get his plunger….FROM THE GARAGE….where he needed a few minutes to look for it (Is this real life? Who doesnt need a plunger enough to put it in storage?).

Once I was able to reclaim sanity with the toilet, I loaded the dirty towels into their washer (there is nothing more awkward then trying to make small talk while filling their washer with your poo towels)..and then we went home…in silence….probably from shock.

So you asked, and I delivered. Arent you glad you asked…:)

Celebrity crush?
Mmmm…Idris Elba

If you could change one thing about the world, what would you change?
That news is funded by ratings. I think media is important for keeping people in power transparent, sharing information and creating a sense of community…but when ratings push fear-based stories or slightly amplified wording to increase shock value, I think that becomes EXTREMELY dangerous. I think it creates a lopsided sense of doom and an unbalanced sense of fear which can create a new level of ignorance, bigitry, hatefullness and bitterness if left unchecked. It can bring out the worse in people, but its done to save jobs and make money. So, I wish I could change that.

If you could spend a day as someone else, whom would you chose(and why)?
Well, Jesus. That would be really helpful. But also J.K. Rowling…she is my author super hero. And maybe Steven King, I love how he talks about the craft of writing.

Do you believe in aliens? Why?
Well…I think there is just too much space out there for us to be the only ones, so yes.

The happiest moment in your life?
The birth of my daughter, followed by my wedding day and the birth of my niece.

If you could watch only one movie for the rest of your lives, which movie would you pick?
Pride and Prejudice (the 2004 one)

Current obsession?
I love listening to Iyanla Vanzant and TD Jakes right now.

One fact about you which others may find surprising? I didnt get my first cavity until age 29. Woohoo oral hygiene!

Why did you start blogging? I started blogging because to me its liberating and freeing too allow yourself creative freedom and blogging does that for me. Also, it gives me a venue to talk about things Im very passionate about. Its empowering to think that perhaps some of my words will be inspiring or connecting with others and perhaps together we can create a more positive world for the next generation. My little girl deserves it and so does every other child out there.

If you do respond, please leave a link below. I’d love to hear your responses!

Here are my nominations:
truelyunpluggeddotcom
alongsidetheroad.wordpress.com
searchingforfai.wordpress.com                                               natalieschriefer.wordpress.com                                                                    warriorinyogapants.com                                                                          itsdollydarling.wordpress.com                                                                                           debooWORKS                                                                                                              dharmainheels.com                                                                                       alisonleechap.wordpress.com                                                     jenniferkbowman.wordpress.com                                                                                       prosophos.com

Questions:

 

What is something you are proud of yourself for?
What is something you wish everyone knew about you before they categorized you?
Greatest act of kindness you have recieved?
Greatest act of kindness you have given?
What is something you know, without a doubt, to be true?
Do you believe in miracles? Why/why not?
What scares you?
What motivates you?
What is the greatest life lesson you have learned?
What is the greatest piece of advice you’ve ever recieved?
What is the greatest piece of advice you’ve ever given

My Dream Is A Tigress

My dream is a Tigress

Though at first only a sound

A muted roar that rumbles

in her throat deep down

Her presence made known

by the hair on my neck

She hasn’t seen me

At least not yet

Fear rumbles through me

and tells me to hide

The bush that recieves me

Now our only divide

She snorts and shakes

My eyes behold of her might

Her breath seeths from within

and then clouds in the night

Theres a churning inside me

someting foreign and strange

My destiny is beckoning

Its time for a change

I bare my teeth

and clench my fists tight

I must claim what is mine

I accept the fight

I step out in the clear

My chest puffed and erect

The Tigress then turns

and licks her lips wet

I crouch and she coils

Her fangs shown in the night

We circle and it begins

The wind calls forth our plight

Her eyes boil with rebellion

She is unclaimed and un kempt

She lunges forward and hits me

My eyes fall blind¬†but my vision’s set

She turns to run

but by the tail she is snagged

She roars in the night

across my cheek her nails dragged

My head is spinning

Blood flows to my chest

But through the pain I’m grinning

“You haven’t killed me yet!”

I jump, nothing barring

Through her coat my fingers slide

On her neck I grip with conviction

I let go of and beam with pride

My momentum pulls me above her

My legs dig deep in her sides

She roars out calling the thunder

I laugh ‘cus I have lightening inside

With a kick she jumps then plunge forward

She is a frantic and wild delight

My head back as I summon the wonder

I howl out and my cry fills the night

She is mine and is claimed by no other

My courage unconquered by fright

My dream now bows to my keeping

Two feral souls now riding as one

My destiny, my soul is now seeking

My Tigress, we’ve just begun

Who am I letting raise my daughter?

This morning the mirror reminded me that my reflection is changing. My face is fuller. My brow now traced with lines growing deep. And with it, the face of a little girl falling further and further away.

My mirror has forced my introduction to time. The awareness that there is a clock ticking somewhere, and that aging will not pass me over.

Such a raw truth to be reminded of, that this collection of moments we live in are so fragile and flutter so quickly into vapor. That nothing that truly matters is tangible and everything that matters is temporary in this life we live.

Yet the legacy of time is our memories. Experiences frozen, refusing to age with us. They leave lasting joys and hurts, emotional scars and lessons.

What memories have I chosen to hold on to? I wonder. And why? How have they shaped me and molded the lens of which I see the world today? What thoughts, words, behaviors do I hold on to now that form the memories yet to come?

And then it hit me, the memories that my daughter will hold in her heart, her mind, her soul, have yet to be written. And one thing time has given me is the opportunity to discipline myself, so when those frozen moments latch on to her that involve her mama, they will be of a woman prepared to leave lasting lessons in her soul.

Who will I let parent my child? What parts of myself will I choose to nourish and give strength to that will, in result, work as a guide for my little girl?

So I take a breath. I have to breathe before lifting that weight on my shoulders. What a big task that will be. I have so many parts to myself, not all of them pretty. And parenting, much less, living life from my center, most inner peaceful self, all the time quite frankly sounds exhausting.

How will I be centered when she’s running late for school after I’ve told her ten times that we are leaving in five minutes? How do I remain calm when she screams “I hate you!” and slams the door for the first time after a punishment? How do I stay at peace when I watch her heading towards heartbreak and am helpless to stop it?

How do I model peace when really I have anger? How do I model wisdom when really I feel lost? Where do I turn to for strength to be her rock, when all I feel is weak?

Though I feel so far, too far, from the answers to those questions, perhaps there is truth in the the act towards obtaining them. All I can do, is practice.

And man, how lucky are we that the world is currently giving us so many opportunities to practice. Modeling peace, when terrorism evokes fear. Striving for wisdom during times of grief as more children, fathers and mothers die from senseless acts of hate. Acting out kindness in the face of meaness.

This is not a small task I ask of myself. But, I am now a parent, I must set the bar higher.

So I remind myself, who will I let raise my child? And because I am human, I must recommit myself every day to nourishing my inner, greatest good. Because the truth is the hurts we see today, the injustices that riddle the news and our generation, are on the backs of fleeting moments. They too will pass. Yet how we respond to them before the eyes of our children, will last forever.

Raising A Galaxy

Though she’s been here for 6 months, I am still dizzy from the storm she brought into my life. The centrifugal force of becoming a mother was so great, it was as if the hand of God ripped me from my old life and dropped me in my new one. This, I swear, is not me being melodramatic. The irony is, I felt prepared for the full on life collision approaching. I dreamt of it. I saw it getting close. I watched my belly grow and felt her getting stronger inside of me. I became so excited I began to wish away time. And then came the hit.

Now I want to take a moment to breathe here because this is not meant to sound like a doomsday message. I’ve learned the earth must break before the flower can bloom. Really, what I am writing is the story of my awakening. You see, I was happy with my life before, but I wanted more. I lived sort of in a box, and I wanted to get going with the living part of life. What I thought I wanted was a baby, and I was right, but not in the way I originally thought.

You see, everything‚ĶI repeat‚ĶEVERYTHING changed when I became a mom. I surrendered everything to this child; my body, my sleep, (I heard a rumor once that newborns sleep alot. I believe these to be mythical creatures), my ability to poop and pee on my own, my marriage (it was hard to find my husband throughout the blur of the storm though he was there, my patient rock) my “freedom”, my sleep (did I mention that already?), my sanity and also my career. My career that I had worked so many years on was now something I was actively choosing to put on hold. It was my conscious decision. I wanted to be home, which is why the grief of professional self caught me so off guard. I mourned my inner liberated, equal rights, burn the bra diva and was now very well acquainted with my hot mess, emotional wreck mom self that seemed so eager to strip away whatever shred of dignity I had left.

I was left breathless and painfully aware that my previous life was shattered. And in the center of my brokenness, this beautiful child. My beautiful child. Our beautiful child.

I had given birth to her, yet here was my rebirth. She was my new compass, my guide for the next chapter of my life.  My connection to her is rooted in such a deep love that she has now penetrated my core identity. My love was bigger than my heart would allow, and so under pressure it grew.

And as I sat there reflecting on in the pile of pieces that was my former life, I took inventory of what was left standing.

My faith. It stood so firm while I felt so weak. My relationship with God was raw and exposed because becoming a mother stripped away my illusion that I was in control. She (God felt feminine to me during this time) was with me at 3 am in the morning as my hand was covered with poo, my breasts squirting milk all over my crying child while my face curled up in an ugly cry cursing the sleepless night. She was with me during the lonely hours.

The desire to do something greater than myself through service of others still stood without waiver. I’m not sure what, how or who, but becoming a mother has shown me that I must.

My family and a close friends. They have taught me time and time again that you can go higher than you ever expected when you just let someone else lift you up.

And finally writing. Auh yes (sigh)…writing. It suprised me that inside words still ached to be written. Writing helps me sort out the layers in my life. It is like a first responder to my soul after a major life changing strom. Writing gives me the words to describe what changes occur inside of me so that I may then follow with action.

And so you may be thinking, “Got it, you had an awakening. So what?” And if so, excellent point and thank you for bringing me to my next thought.

So I’ve had this awakening. Now, my eyes are open. And here is the harsh reality I see. Now that I’m a parent, I have to prepare for the fact that my daughter is going to live in a world moving so fast that it’s stuck.  A world that has become so hard of hearing that it has lost the value of one’s voice. A broken message stating that worth comes from the superficial and that fear seperates us from them. These are the messages that will fall upon my little girls ears, and if I’m not careful, they’ll stick.

I no longer have the luxary of waiting for politicians or leaders with a microphone to get it right, because my little girl is here now. In order to prepare herself for a world where mass shootings, terrorism, cyber bullying, political tantrums and other forms of fear based hate are becoming the norm, I believe I have to emmerse my child in compassionate acts during her developmental years. I must help her find where she can truly fill her cup.

While her brain is absorbing her surroundings, I need to introduce her to families, religions, beliefs, and thoughts that are different then ours so that she learns how to look for true commonality. I need to love myself and express it outwardly so that she learns that true beauty is more than the curves that fill our clothes. I need to let her fail, so that she can learn how to get up from the fall without blaming others for the push. I need to show her how to listen, so that she may find her voice. I need to teach her the line between serving others and being taken advantage of so that she learns not to give what she cannot afford to lose.

God has given her a light strong enough to cast out the shadows in her life. While she is learning who she is, I must teach her that her light grows brighter when she recognizes the shine in others as well. I need to teach her that she is a star. And that some stars guide others like the North Star. Some are meant to be on stage such as the Sun. Some work together and form beautiful constellations. Some must move and shoot across the night. Yet as she prepares to take her place in the sky, she needs to know that though her role may be different than the stars around her, we are all connected. Because our true magnificence comes from the realization that we all make up a gallaxy.

My eyes are open, and this my is journey of finding a way to not just raise my child, but to connect with others so that we may raise a gallaxy.