You are the music that brings my heart to its feet and my ears to their knees.
The infinite sound.
I can not let go.
You are the music that sits in the wind and travels the seas.
The earth
The ground.
This I know.
In the deepest quiet of a minute
You are the music.
A crescendo of all good things.
Infinite.
The Joy.
Lucid.
Do not spare me your chords
Lay your notes within me.
As I will be still and in awe,
The blood of me.
Existing in my core.
You are the music
ALL this slang I sling,
All THE curses and things,
I inject into a sentence to make room for really nothing…
But I do it anyway unaware of the dismay,
That after time, down the line, one day I will have strayed far away from the BEAUTY of language, and the gift OF the word.
How absurd.
Truly,
I want to understand WORDS in a way that’s so superb,
In a way that every syllable in a verse is worth more than how it’s heard,
I want to understand it like it speaks to Mother Earth,
Like it blesses every birth,
Like it’s important what it’s worth but also how it’s felt.
But sometimes when I open my mouth
I tend to push what then comes out…
AND then I sit and I wonder,
Did I say what I really mean?
I want to mean what I say and say what I mean and let EMOTION intervene but not in a way that’s mean but in a way that’s meaningful!
I MEAN,
I’ve butchered my LANGUAGE so bad and for so long that I’ve practiced saying it all wrong when so much can be said in short, I say it all too long, and for what?
I want my words to cut,
But not in a way that HARMS, and it’s not so much for CHARM but…
In a way that WEIGHS on the hearts of listeners,
In a way that FREES the minds of prisoners,
Words that SETTLES on the ears,
That MOTIVATES my peers,
INSPIRES dreams in children,
Taller than City buildings,
That put a STOP to all this KILLING
Words that stop bullets in mid air,
Words that CRUSH DESPAIR,
Words that GIVE HOPE where there’s none,
That lead the lost into the Sun.
That equal to the sum,
That sequel to the one,
That beats TO any drum,
Words…
Words for EVERYONE.
No matter THE culture or race, no matter speed or pace, what’s important is that each WORD has its own face,
Has a home in a sentence and it’s very own place.
What’s important is that each word ELEVATES the statement and CREATES its own space,
That it PERMEATES.
But for that to happen I need to have LOVE for the word,
I need to cherish THE word,
I need to hold dear to me, the WORD,
Not how it appears to me, but how it serves,
Serves a purpose,
The definition beyond the surface,
I mean…
WITHOUT LOVE FOR THE WORD,
IT’S WORTHLESS.
I was inspired today…
On a road somewhere in Indiana, the charter bus was quiet, with the exception of a little girl laughing.
I could see nothing. But I could here her clearly. Her giggle was so precise and free. With my eyes half open I could see the shadowed silhouette of the little girl next to me.
I was on the bus listening to “Internal Flight” by Estas Tonne when I had fell into a sleep. Now, half awake, Tonne’s music and the little girl’s laughter were just the right mix of noise and beauty. I awake and gather myself in the bus chair. Next to me, the little girl appears to be 2 or 3 years old playing on a man’s lap. I assumed it was her father. She wore a pink jumpsuit with a white stripe down the side. Her hair was red-brown with untamed curls growing beautiful and free. The man had a dark gray t-shirt on with jeans, he had short black hair. Both of them with heavy tan colored skin, maybe black, bi-racial, or dominican. She was kneeling in his lap facing him.
Without a care in the world, without fear, without any doubt she would quickly lean herself so far backwards with her head leading her body and away from him. He would catch her in his arms and pull her close. As she threw herself backwards she would let out a loud and cheerful scream and return to his chest kneeling up right in a fit of giggles. Then she would calm down, look him in the eyes and repeat the same maneuver. Her father waited each time and allowed her to continue without rest.
I observed them with a gentle smile, feeling the bond between them, their love together, and of course her laughter. I watched her do it over and over again, and watched her father catch her without fail. Then she saw me watching her and smiling. She twisted her body to me and reached both arms out to me the way a little child does when they want to be picked up or held. The father pulled her back as if to say to her not to bother or annoy me. She looked at her father, then looked back at me. She reached out to me again with the warmest smile on her face. How could I be bothered by such pure joy and innocence? I looked at the father kindly and without uttering a word he knew it was okay with me. The father allowed his baby girl to transfer herself to my lap in the same position. Kneeling with her knees on my legs, facing me, she held my shoulders and braced herself. She gave me a few seconds to prepare, her smile opened wide as she suddenly, without fear, without care, without a doubt in the world trusted in me.
With a loud and joyous scream She threw her head back and leaned back so quickly with force and I caught her as her father did and she giggled and laughed. I laughed with her. I pulled her back up and in close, and she did it over and over again. While she kept on I asked her father “What is her name?” He told me her name was Benice (pronounce like “B-Nice”). I was thrown off at first by the pronunciation as it sounded like an MC name or a rapper from the 1980’s. She continued to giggle and enjoy herself. I looked back at the father and he had a worried face, as if he were afraid, truly afraid or bothered by a sudden thought of misfortune or something terrible. I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He looks at me and said, “I never had to catch her before.” It was such an odd moment. I wasn’t sure what he meant but assumed he was talking about catching her while she played on his lap. His worried face said more than just that to me, I seem to have shared his worry with him even though I had no idea what it truly was.
I tried to break the air. I asked him if he had any other kids. He told me yes and that he has a son who is 30 ears old. I asked him what is his son’s name? He told me his name is Aniki (pronounced like A-knee-key). I repeated his son’s name to him to be sure I heard him correctly. The father nodded at me to confirm.
Aniki. Aniki. Aniki, the name kept repeating in my head as his daughter repeating to throw herself back and I continued to catch her. I looked at the father again, and it was not until that moment I realized how young he looked. He was still in his 20’s at best. Maybe late 20’s and that would be generous. I stayed quiet. I said nothing aloud. In my mind I was asking myself how this man could have a 30 year old child. The moment seemed so distorted.
Then I woke up for real on the Greyhound bus headed to Toma, Wisconsin. I woke up, sitting by myself in the front seat. I immediately looked to my right to see the father and his daughter. No Benice, no man, no more name repeating in my head. I looked around and across the aisle to another passenger. I made sure my eyes were open before I looked again. Then I looked over to the side where in my dream they sat, as if to confirm to myself that it was all a dream. Oddly I could still vision them as they were in my dream. I had to give myself a minute or two to process it all. In the waking seconds I was sure they WERE truly physically there.
I was lucky and blessed to remember this dream, as I very rarely dream and remember.
Later that night…
My mama’s interpretation,
What a beautiful dream. What a beautiful picture. Your dream has great meaning. You are both the father and the little girl. You are letting go, allowing yourself to freely let go and trust that everything will be all right. And it will. Because your father is always there to make sure that you are safe. And yes, this is new for the father, and for me, as you are stepping out into the world in a way that you haven’t done before, although in a way that I had always expected. And you are fathering yourself, which is why someone so young can have a son so old. Love and blessings-Mom. The End.
One day I will stand as still and high as a mountain, yet still I will be shelter to the rivers, streams, and animals that depend on me.
Sometimes we need that tiny spark of light to inspire and encourage a world of darkness. Many of us have evolved for the better: however, still within a dark place we’ve found the strength, the courage, and the will to change. While in a dark place, this metamorphosis of the self- is most of time- a good change. For some of us this can be a reoccurring cycle we go through for long periods of time, and for others it can be as long as we can remember. Change can be achieved but can be extremely difficult as we sit in the dark and try and do it alone. We can be ashamed and embarrassed to let others see or know our inner struggles. We only allow the world around us to see what we want them to see, and we decide to control what shines through and what does not.
Grant it, we are changing and for the better, it can be a slow and exhausting process. Many of us are unfamiliar with the mere thought that there is a more comforting way to evolve. Evolving outside of that dark place, evolving as a light, and in the light. Some of us are so accustomed to controlling our glimpse of light that we lose the ability to let all of our light shine at once, and more importantly we lose the ability to allow light to shine inwards! So focused on controlling the light, the spark, that flame that lifts us out of our dark place we create a one-way channel, an outward flow of anything good. Rarely do we allow ourselves the inward flow of all things good, the receiving of light. It’s a living and breathing oxymoron. We are so protected and guarded that our insecurities train ourselves to create a false feeling of security.
I am guilty of this… I’ve heard others tell me, “You’ve come this far,” or “Look how much you’ve accomplished,” and “You can do anything when you put your mind to it.” I can be the tinted window. I can deflect the light, the love, and the happiness that others want to share with me. I can deflect the smiles, the laughter, and the comfort. I can sit in a dark place and try and change all by myself. This is a lonely place to be in, an unnecessary struggle, and time to time the walls cave in and it takes more strength to hold them from crushing me. Yes, I have evolved and changed for the better, I have come so far, I have come a long way: however, it’s always been me climbing in and out of dark spaces. So I ask myself and I challenge myself, to crawl out of that dark corner and sit in the sun. To let the rays of light, of everything good shine down on me and to let it all in, to allow what I am not accustomed to, to allow what I am unfamiliar with, to touch me in the ways that I need to be touched, to allow myself to be approachable. I challenge myself to see the light that I am where I stand, to recognize that I am the lighthouse that can bring others in dark oceans safely to shore. I challenge myself to be the beacon that others see in me but do not see in myself. I challenge myself to accept and embrace all the beautiful colors of light that others choose to share with me. I challenge myself to accept help, to accept the hands of love that when faced upward light shoots out of their palms like super-natural power. More importantly, I challenge my self to accept the love God has for me and to come to understand it. I challenge myself to love Him wholeheartedly and listen to His grace.
Today I’m tired of evolving in a dark place. I choose to evolve in a space that is already well lit and warm. I choose to evolve in the light, in a space where I can smile and laugh, where I can love the way I was created to love. I choose to feel free in the light like a hawk over a mountaintop and under the sun. I want to feel *connected, close to Him, to the universe, and to all living things. Today I choose to shine!
So, after my workout this morning I sat quietly and this came to mind…
Often we see kids riding on bikes with another kid holding on tight while riding on the handlebars. As it came to mind I thought how much trust it takes to allow another to control the bicycle and guide the way while sitting on the handlebars. To leave the control of our direction in another’s hands and to their will.
Sometimes, the kid sitting on the handlebars can be uncomfortable, especially when there are bumps and holes in the road. There can be anxiety, and worry as the kid allows the guide to maneuver the bike as he/she pleases: not knowing where they are headed or which turn will come next.
Hear this… if the kid on the handlebars interferes with he or she who is steering the way, it can result in an accident, a terrible fall, much pain, and in a severe case – death! Also, the kid on the handlebars can – and may sometimes be incline to- take control of the steering by leaning, resisting a turn, or just simply trying to overpower the one who is steering the way.
However, if the passenger on the handlebars chooses to allow the guide all control, if the passenger chooses not to resist, not to lean but instead remain centered, chooses to let go of the anxiety and worry of where he or she may be headed, or when the next turn will come, and instead chooses to enjoy the wind in their face, the speed of travel, the passing environment, the sounds, the visuals: respects and trusts the guide, the experience can be joyful, memorable, fun, exciting, and gratifying.
This is my faith. Knowing there will be bumps in the road and holes to avoid, I am centered on the handlebars: and with all of my existence, I trust and respect my HIGHER POWER is in control and will lead the way.
Restless
I can only torture myself with a wonder so loud, it is deafening to my dreams and turns my pillows to cement. With eyes wide open in a dark so black I can’t see my thoughts race around my head in circles never ending.
I can’t slow them enough to stumble over understanding and steady my mind to aim for answers. I try not to feel pain. I try and block the unnerving thought of the difficulty she has loving herself enough to allow me to love her.
The ‘why’s’ envy the ‘what ifs’, and my eyes trip over tears that sting my cheeks and taste bitter on my lips. I want to scream in sorrow but she won’t hear me. She won’t see the fear in my face and the death of my heart.
Ripped to parts, I wait for her to make a sound so I can dance in the music of her voice with my arms spread wide like a child plays in the rain. I wait for her to send me a sign so I can fly like an angel in praise, with silk wings so beautiful my feathers create rainbows for the world to see my joy in her.
My smile becomes a stranger to my face, and my chest pounds with the vibrations of a thousand giants marching to nowhere. My stomach filled with the emptiness of a hunger I can’t explain even to myself, a craving I never fathomed would bequeath such misfortune.
Hunting for moments that I can feast upon to create memories to digest, memories that will fill the space between my ribs and atmosphere between my ears so I may be full of comfort and unafraid of fear. Memories that are forever bound to her and always near.
But instead the thought of losing her weakens my strength and I crumble. Minute to minute I fumble through thorn fields that rip the skin from my ability to love, and I bleed from the pores of my soul to the surface of my vessel with so much discomfort I cannot close my eyes.
Hours go by, and days die, and nights become time I don’t look forward to spending. Time that sits stiller than 4am while the world sleeps and still I am awake, staring at nothing, wondering how the walls around me can be so unforgiving they crush what parts of me are still living.
I lay awake, I dare not sleep, for she may forget me. She may turn to look away from me, and I may never see her face again. I may never see her smile, I may never see her laugh, I may never see her weep, while all I want is to know she loves me, so that I can fall asleep.
As I picked my head up to see before me, instantly magnetic my eyes fixed on you
As if the world became invisible and there were only us two.
The moment stood still and the seconds ran slow and my legs no longer existed.
My breathing I could here clearly between my ears and my heart beat shifted
Only the sight before my heart could function well enough to see your smile.
As you locked eyes with me, each footstep felt like it lasted for years.
The mystery of you, weighed heavy on all of my fears that…
Love stood before me… and I was without response. Without courage to muster a single word while ashamed of my demure. Time passed and each eye to eye experience captivated the essence of everything my imagination never fathomed before.
Beyond dreams where the sun meets the moon, where the stars meet the floor and their twilight spills like feelings from my heart while dust turns to light and darkness to bright and with you in my sight…
I implode. All the air around me takes my breath away and twirls me in circles. My nerves dance to the sound of your silence as you look back at me weakening my knees so they dare not approach you.
How do I… How do I… How do I speak to a beauty so intrinsic that I feel is above me, to a beauty more beautiful than I deserve. How do I introduce your world to mine without falling out of the sky failing to parachute to your expectations.
And then there was time. Space between us became words and the thrill of your smile brought me closer to your theart. Indeed I was shackled by the portion of my disbelief that I could be a part…
A part of your completion. A part of your whole, a fraction of you. How could I amount to your math. How do I add up to love. How do I divide the distance between the tips of our toes, and the tips of our tongues.
How can I lessen an inch so that I may be in your presence? How can I bend time so that noon kisses midnight and the other 22 hours wrap us in warm days and special nights. How can I complete a sentence, without the taste of your name leaving my tongue and losing your essence.n
You are my revolution, the repudiation of all of my governed thoughts. No longer does structure exist when I crumble over you. You tear down my walls and march to the center of my heart. You open my inner most doors only to find my core belief is you. You make colors come to life and showed me how the moon could be red and the sun could be blue.
You inspire rainbows that paint the sky with dreams of tomorrow, you taught me tomorrow’s dreams are dreams we can follow, how the stars are in arm’s reach, and the clouds rest beneath our feet. You are the open lotus flower, you bloom love and walk on water.
A man has made at least a start on discovering the meaning of human life when he plants shade trees under which he knows full well he will never sit.
—D. Elton Trueblood
Our lives are enriched by the contributions of those who lived before us. Many men and women gave more than they ever took from society, and now we enjoy the rewards. Some people were fired with a spirit to beautify the world and planted trees that will live for 200 years. Others wrote music that speaks to us from another generation, and others established a government that guides our principles of justice. They gave so much because they knew they were a part of their community and the world.
I may not make the great contributions that will make me famous, but I can enrich my life and the lives around me when I contribute freely to improving the community and the world. I can do this when I simply say hello to my neighbor, when I serve on a volunteer cleanup committee for a local park, Habitat for Humanity, Caring For The Homeless of Peekskill (C.H.O.P.), and The Food Pantry. These are vehicles that I use to help beautify and contribute to the world, and that gives me a feeling of peace and self-respect.
I wasn’t always the person I am today. Knowing who I was and who I aspire to become has given me grace. Being angry, violent, believing in nothing greater than myself, and holding on to the “me against the world” attitude has caused much harm to my self and to those around me. I have a CHOICE and in the M.A.S. I was conflicted for a greater portion of my life lived. Recognizing that I can live different to make a difference has done wonders for my children, my wife, my family, my friends, even some strangers, and me.
The phrase ‘joy (AND) happiness’ always struck me to be odd. The use of the word ‘AND’ was always in question- as if joy and happiness were separate entities, and today I believe they are separate in definition.
Happiness is still something I have yet to achieve. I feel as if it is measured by time. For example when someone is happy it describes (to me) a length of time. Happiness seems as though it is a feeling that must be achieved. And forgive me, I can be wrong but I find when someone is happy it isn’t for a second, a minute, hours, or even a day. It is a state or a period in their life that they have experienced ‘happiness’. I have witnessed people in the act of giving, caring, and planting those trees that were not happy. Yet still they gave.
Joy is a feeling that I have experienced many times before but was too ignorant to recognize. Recently I am blessed to recognize the energy or the electricity it shocks my heart with, my soul, M.A.S. I feel joy is measured by moments, overwhelming instances that cannot be denied, and pure genuine emotion. For example, joy blasts our beings, it shocks the body, it creates tears that cannot be held down, and it sits heavy and in the gut. Again, forgive me, I can be wrong but joy does not have to be achieved, it happens whether we like it or not. It cannot be obstructed. It cannot be controlled. I have witnessed people and myself that weren’t happy experience joy in a moment, isolated tiny events, and it is obvious (to me) when it occurs. In the act of giving back to the community, giving back to the universe as it had given to me helps me to feel joy. Planting a tree and seeing it grow knowing I will never sit in its shade gives me joy. Seeing people do for others gives me joy. My heart pounds, my eyes well up, and my spirit is touched when joy overwhelms me.
This is only my opinion. This isn’t science, nor are they facts. This is not meant to offend those who claim to be happy- it’s just when I hear or read the word happiness it still seems so foreign. However, joy is familiar to me, as this year it has shaken me over as over again. I am so thankful for these moments and without shame.
Plant a tree.
Peace.
Mind, body, and soul – mental, physical, and spiritual…
I gathered this morning with like minds. It was a powerful session, to say the least.
For me, it’s a trifecta. If my mental, physical, and spiritual, is not aligned I’m off-balance completely. It’s not an easy task, but sometimes more simple than I perceive it to be.
The mental comes with right thought, and right action. With these comes right direction. In addition, my mental depends on my ability to differentiate between right and wrong, between healthy and destructive living.
The physical comes with moving a muscle. “Move a muscle, change a thought.” Exercising, hitting the gym, doing my routine push-ups, going for walks, and playing with my children are all ways that I can keep my physical on point. My physical also depends on my diet. The food that I feed my body reflects my physical and the respect I have for it.
The spiritual comes with surrender. Surrendering to my HIGHER POWER is one way to stay spiritually connected. Hitting my knees and praying throughout the day is another. In addition, reading daily meditations, books about Buddhism, the Bible, and sometimes the Qur’an help as well. Even staying close and spending time with my children help to keep me connected and spiritually healthy.
All dependent on each other, my mental, my physical, and my spiritual need to coexist. There is a harmony that must be achieved, a balance- mind, body, and soul. One without the other is like a puzzle missing it’s pieces, incomplete.
For me, staying spiritually and physically connected is much easier than mentally. My mental can be quite dangerous to me at times. It holds resentments, dwells on the past, encourages frivolous mischiefs, and often entices me in all the wrong ways. My mind has a strong ability to hate but my heart does not. My mind has a clever yearning for revenge but my heart does not. My mind can isolate me from my body and soul, but I refuse to let it. My mind can seek out and befriend depression but body and soul know depression is no friend of min(d). Thank GOD for my spirit which keeps me grounded and my physical that allows me to soldier through and endure.
Today, I need be aware of my my mental and work towards the balance I need to stay aligned- mind, body, and soul.
It is not an easy task; however, I’ve come this far and I keep reminding myself it could always be worse. Today, I am grateful for my blessings and will practice an attitude of success and greatness while being transparent with a sense of humility.
I’m going through it, and I’m gonna get through it.
Destroy & Rebuild 