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a reflection of me?

During my lunch break, I decided to look for some 4 leafed clovers for ol' time sake.

And I came across this one. And there was something about it that made me feel a weird sentimental connection with it. It almost felt as if, if I had turned myself into a plant, this would have been me.

Or at least the me right now.

Knowing that I am unique in that there is no one else as me as me in this world. Yet weathered by the conditions and hurtful things too.

on wishing there was a cure

The end of the year is coming soon and this has been a year of transition and heartache for me.

Most of the time, I live pretending that it doesn't exist. That maybe if I ignored my problems, they will go away. I know in many ways ignoring is just a defense mechanism my mind protecting myself from hurting too much. I wish there was a better cure for these feelings but this will do for now.

I also think about what other people and their relationships with their parents. Some in emotional turmoil, hate, love, compassion, joy, ugliness, resentment.... the list goes on.

Parents and children have bonds that are not like anything else in this world. It's a bond that is assigned to us. A bond that does not change the facts. No amount of hate, bitterness or resentment can break this bond - even though sometimes these bonds are secrets or even shameful.

I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with the fact that my dad is passing. Slowly deteriorating... slowly getting to a place that no daughter wants to see their dad... soon unable to even recognize who I am.

I think of the daughters holding their father's hands down the aisle on their big day. And I realize that I'll never get that moment. I think about how a father looks at their daughter's first child. And again realize that I'll never get that moment.

I realize that smiles won't be shared and arguments won't be had. That hands won't be held and that family dinners will never be the same.

The small things. The little things... will never be the same.

I wish there was a cure for cancer. I wish a magical pill would do it. But until then....

I want to say:

It's a blessing. Every moment, argument, memory, dinner, smile... Enjoy it. Love it. And live it.

#Blessing #father #parents #trusting #family #cancer

photojojo

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Yea... it's time for this song.

Life is fragile.

Yesterday, my director's husband was found dead in her home.

I can't even express the sense of shock I felt when I heard this a little over an hour after getting into work.

My heart feels extremely heavy. It makes me realize again of how much we as humans need each other in this world.

It reminds me of how difficult it is... of how hard it is... how much sometimes life doesn't seem fair.

It reminds me again of how much we as people just need to love. How much love is always something you will regret not giving enough of.

Life is beautiful. Life is fragile. Life is painful. Life needs love.

Reflecting... on myself.

I have grown older. I have been in this City called Evanston, in what the midwesterners call Chicagoland, for 3 years and 9.5 months.

And in many ways, I've grown as a person. I've changed as a person. And in many ways I've gone backwards as a person.

Yesterday, I had a change to look at pictures of myself in Africa.

2007 was the year I went to Africa, the year my hands were almost amputated, the year my dad's cancer was progressing at a rate that was too fast, the year I was in the hospital too often, the year where forgiveness happened, the year where.... I realized much more of myself.

The year... of too much change.

What my heart, my passions, my desires, and my identity was in Africa. Africa was the definition, it was the goal of my life... It was what my heart beat for and what I thought God wanted for me.

Yesterday, I dug deep into myself... thinking about who I was back then...

The person I remembered was someone: uninhibited by what the world thought was normal, sold out for something bigger, unaware of what the world would require of me, untamed by realism but living in the clouds, determined to be the change.

Then, I come back to thinking about myself now: a tired dreamer, restricted by the world, aware of the normal, tamed in my ideals... coming more toward the ground.

I want to find my 21 year old self again -- not so much defining myself with Africa. What I've learned in the years is that my only identity is in God. But... I want to find again the naive dreamer chasing after truths, and chasing after good, and chasing after God.

This is beautiful.

Goodbyes

I realized that I am really bad at saying goodbyes.

There is just something about them that makes me feel as if a part of me is going with them.

There is something about getting used to a person that makes it hard. You start giving them parts of your memories... your emotions... and everyone you meet gives you a different feeling, thought, memory, etc.

Your body and senses even start to create associations for each person. Smells, songs, etc that form links in your synapses. And soon enough... a smell, a feeling, an emotion, a word, a song, etc. they remind us of those we say goodbye to.

And in many ways, I hope that I would see them again... even though sometimes I know it's going to be difficult. Hoping again for paths to cross... hoping again that everything would be the same.

And sometimes, saying goodbye is so difficult I just don't even want the words to come out of my mouth. Ending things with, "I'll see you again. Right?" The "Right?" being a indicator of my unwillingness to let go.

Can we let go? Is that possible?

Goodbyes are hard. Hellos are sometimes harder. And memories are things that linger.

Sometimes...

I have to remind myself again and again that God is still good.

God is still good...

Little Fish

I am a dreamer.

I remember one of my dreams.

Very vividly.

I found myself in this forest like

estuary.

With a musky feel to the air.

and the Humidity sticking to my body

like wet hair

after a swim in the hot sun.

Then from the corner of my eye.

I saw this orange colored goldfish jump out.

It jumped from its tank and floated through the air.

Probably thinking.

There must be more beyond these

Algae'd green see through walls.

There is more than the gigantic

distorted faces that I have to look at

With those candy coated fake faces.

There must be more than the colored pebbles

and fake plastic treasure cases....

But little fish I tell you....

This outside world is not as safe as it seems

this outside world is filled with sequenced fakes

and eagerly smiling faces

Little fish, there will be

big nets that catch you.

There will be other

big fish that are going to try to eat you.

I know that leap took a big risk.

It took every ounce of strength

that every fiber of your being.

every branched capillary

tense with the

pure euphoria racing through your blood,

When you felt the air

flow through each fin

When you felt each scale quiver with excitement.

You felt free.

Little fish...

This world is filled with cuts and bruises

Bruises of greens and blues and purples.

This world is filled with shadows that are

not like the ones you've seen before.

This world is filled with real treasure cases

and others will squeeze every ounce of you to get to

This world is filled with myths

and lies and they will pollute our minds.

But little fish,

this world is also filled with genuine laughs

that tickle the throat

This world is also filled with

stars in galaxies and celestial bodies that float in these realities

This world also filled with caramel

and sweets

widening our smiles and sometimes our waistlines.

This world is filled with wonder and

Adventures and fake dragons that make you a hero.

Little fish...

As you now lie there.

On the cold dry land.

Where your mouth forms little O's

Hoping that even one oxygen atom

sticks to your gills

You realize that your once weightless body

is now crashing down on you

As if gravity is playing this terrible

trick on you.

Wondering how those big faced creatures do it.

As you realize that you have no lungs to breathe

in this world...

And you hold on to the hope.

The hope that someone saw you.

Little fish.

#Spoken word #performance poetry #poetry #written by me #little fish #dreams #metaphors

whatshouldwecallme

My social life

In college:

Now:

Thump thump thump.

More spoken word by moi.

-----------------------

What once used to feel.

It used be even be real.

The emotions and trials.

the heart checks and even pains from rejects.

It used to go thump thump thump.

Under the left shoulder

where we like to place our hand during

the National Anthem.

A thump thump thump.

What once used to be

used to see

The good and the bad

and used to...

Just became a used to.

So, in the guilt and mostly confusion.

In the hurt and mostly erosion...

Bits of shiny and sparkling things started to cover...

what was so... lifeless.

The dark and shady places covered by

Plastic gems and sequined fakeness...

It looked good on the outside.

It would have fooled even the brightest poets, scholars and pastors.

But... You see, it was made of pyrite.

You know, they call it fools gold.

It looked real, it looked good.

It look valuable and it tricked everyone.

Everyone would say, "Look at that heart of gold."

"What a marvel to behold."

But you see, it was just pyrite.

You know, they call it fools gold.

Lifeless, motionless, just a stone.

Not even a part of the human anatomy.

No motion, no emotion.

No joy, no grace.

No forgiveness, no trace....

of life.

Until one day.

A sorts of hero

in the form of what others would call a zero.

Chiseled and cracked through...

the facade.

It painfully tore away at the hardened mess that I called

a heart.

Thump thump thump.

They used hammers and nails.

They used a cross and a veil.

Thump thump thump.

The pain was back.

The tears flowed again.

The motion followed by with emotion.

Thump thump thump

That what made of pyrite...

you know they call it fool's gold.

Now, a heart of flesh.

#spoken word #fun #inpired #Jesus #thankful #heart

Friday Mooosic.

State of being

Being ordinary wasn't enough....

So I decided to be extraordinary.

My post on thrifting finds! Home decor ideas!

Untitled.

The skies turned grey.

It almost felt as if everything was going to be okay.

From the tip tops of the trees.

There where bystanders and seas

of people.

Seas of eyes that swayed

colored in blues, forest greens, and hazels.

Each of them filled with confusion.

Some filled with rage.

Some filled with compassion.

Filled with revenge.

Filled with greed.

Filled with sorrow.

Filled with hurt....

But each pair of eyes

Paralyzed by fear.

Paralyzed by what was happening.

Paralyzed by the deed.

Each limb planted so firm.

Like the roots of a great sequoia tree.

Wanting to make a step in the other direction.

Each limb heavy while walking. As though walking through molasses

Each limb weighing more than they have ever weight before.

Many because they knew that there was innocent blood.

Many because of the horror.

Many because they just couldn't turn their swaying eyes away.

Wincing at every single lashing.

Wincing at every nail.

Cheering only because they didn't know not to.

At that moment...

At that time.

At that specific space of time...

The entirety of the heart of God.

Must...

have cried.

No.... Must have wept. Bitterly.

Must have been so pained...

Broken.

As for me...

I am thankful for it all.

Post #2.

First in my Baker Series.

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