L I O N N E | O N E

thoughts of Lionne

[jancynco]

Layers

The undoing of an idea, the becoming of a new form of woman and the evolution that connects two happenings. Over the course of this forceful time of reflection and reconciliation I have developed a healthy appreciation of design. Let me explain. We all get to a point of life where we ask ourselves about purpose, how do we fulfill it, and ultimately how does that purpose connect to who we are. I realized that a great portion of my life was used to conform who I was in order to maintain my sanity. To blend or assimilate because my uniqueness was created by manufactured, generational curses and the awakening of quenched curiosity. I clothed myself with layers… suitable, self-satisfying defense mechanisms to protect the future I thought I wanted to build. It was exhausting upholding this idea I knew wasn’t organic. I remember praying to God to devastate me. It was a very distinct and intentional prayer because it came at the cusp of my undoing. A quiet plea to save me from my ideas and set me anew. I desired devastation because I did not want to return to my former self. I wanted to be a phoenix unfamiliar to the common and received by the unknown. Something happened after my baptism by fire or in my case the isolation and the pain of an illness physically, mentally and spiritually. The idea of what a Christian… a woman… a Black human was, chiseled away like I was being reborn out of a shapeless marble stone and crafted into who you know today by the perseverance and struggle of one. I am so liberated in my becoming. It is a metamorphosis realized in the middle of transformation which makes the journey validating in being present. 

 As a woman, discovering the power of femininity left me adverse to new traditionalism. There is a beautiful art within the vulnerability of submission. I felt empowered submitting to something outside of myself knowing I have the strength to undergird the weight of a thing that is also designed to protect me. I am in essence fortifying my protection and, in that submission, therein lies my greatest superpower. Because I was designed whole, I as a woman, encompass everything I will ever need to survive. There just needed to be a mind-blowing encounter. Loving my husband in this manner is honoring the Spirit of God in both of us. I chose to acknowledge my womanhood through the lens of contrast of gender because I believe appreciation is birthed out of opposition in a sense. The tango of becoming one, yet maintaining your identity leaves me baffled. The discovery of an answer beckons the reinvention of oneself to accommodate the time needed for an unbreakable union. Wife in today’s view is looked upon as a role, an interchangeable one, but if we are characterized as such before we become a wife by Biblical standards is that not a calling? To be called to marriage is to have your nature tested and celebrated in its necessity of a particular purpose within connection. I truly feel the brevity and distinction of myself by the awareness of those around me and their differences. I am empowered because I am a woman. Differences only need the explanation of what it is… not why it is. What am I to you determines the functionality and purpose in relationship. Why my differences exist are to be revealed. Black. It is way more than an identifying marker. My race was determined before my sex or the acceptance of my beliefs. It is my belonging personified, my inherited brand, my power tethered to ancestral dreams. I am so enamored by my own skin. It refuses to be tamed by oppression and conformity. It is a bell curve that highlights the trials and triumphs of a people through the linear progression of time. In our current state we are just awaiting the ascension out of a valley. It seeps out through texture both in voice and curls. Through the curvature of body and smile. In style through decorum, the swaying of my hips or the creative expression cultivated by broken limitations. 

Black. I am God’s appreciation of Himself conceptualized in all of my genetic make-up… “…and it was good.” I am the summation of the intended good of countless generations before me originated from one design. The undoing of an idea or what it means to be “Black” as well as the growth into womanhood are all cataclysmic phenoms. The evolution that bridges these two moments of time and keeps them at bay respectively is faith. The audacity of intersectionality within a Black woman is deliberate…intentional… purposeful. The full circle experience in having faith in the Creator of your distinction is a practice of adoration for the careful customization the world gets the privilege of witnessing but only for a vapor. It is such a beautiful thing to witness when a Black woman is refined within the safety of love. The currency of her faith flows as abundantly and melodic as her presence in the desolation of uninspired spaces. 

 The makings of me, many layers when peeled away is meant to be pondered singularly and consumed whole, however to garner an understanding she must be felt as a force in its full capacity. To not have the intimacy of knowing her in her full extent is a disservice. Life will uncover who you were already designed to be. You in all of your glory should be revered as an experience and not hushed into objectivity. What will it take to discover who you have always been meant to be and meet the arrival the world so desperately needs in identifying your layers and embracing transformation.

[jancynco]

Remember, I Love You

The Friday after our wedding I was ridiculously excited. All of the unrealistic expectations and ideas of marriage completely consumed my brain. The never-ending happily ever after moments, abundance of success, a ton of sex and great health. Not a worry in my make-shift world. A part of me felt like we cheated the system or something by quietly having a small intimate wedding on a brisk Thursday night away from the world. It was as if by keeping it hush all the plagues of life would miss us and love could be our guise. It wasn’t until this endearing encounter with a gentleman by the name of Mr. Jim at my grandmother’s retirement home that I witnessed unconditional love personified. It quickly changed my perspective of the effort and true longevity necessary for marriage. My husband and I went to visit my grandmother because she was unable to attend our wedding. We decided to spend a couple of hours with her so she could become familiar with Rich’s voice. My grandmother could not speak but from what the nurses observed she was very attentive to Rich. I think because he’s easy on the eyes… something she would say back in her healthier days. But that’s neither here nor there. It was there in the common area that Mr. Jim, this spunky, older white man with a calming southern drawl began to talk to us. He said we looked like we were in love and that Rich had “got him a good one.” I jokingly responded, “he sure did”. He proceeded to tell us about his beloved wife of 60 years and how he took special pride in loving, protecting and raising a family with her. Then he paused and mentioned a young woman he could not take his mind off of. Whoever this woman was she was the most beautiful encounter he had ever experienced. She apparently was everything he wasn’t and her composed, elegant nature was something that intrigued him quite immensely. He continued to let us know that today was the day he was going to marry her and start a new life, family and all. We thought he most certainly was joking with us because we had mentioned we were newlywed the day before and the fact that he was in his mid-80s. He was serious. That day he was awaiting her arrival and if she said yes, they were to be married that very day. He took a deep breath and said “you two look like you are in love. Seems like you picked a good one”. Perplexed, I hesitantly replied with a “sure did” and touched my husband’s knee hinting at this possible lapse in time. It was then that I heard this fragile woman’s voice say that she had to go home and prepare for the wedding. They whispered “I love you” to one another and she repeatedly assured him of her return for the ceremony as she tried to leave. 

 My heart sank as I realized what just played out in front of me. I found out that Mr. Jim suffered from dementia and his caregiver, his wife of 60 years, the young woman he obsessed over just moments before, enacted this routine every day in order for her to go home after taking care of him, preventing a mental episode. To put a smile on his face and to ease the blow of leaving him every night she promised a wedding to prepare for, as a hopeful focus for him to have peace in. My heart exploded with emotion at what Rich and I had just experienced. It was the saddest and yet most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. As his nurses helped him to his room he yelled out “see you at the wedding!” and she replied “remember, I love you.” 

 Over the past couple of weeks that memory has been my alarm clock in the mornings. Trying to push through the health complications, maintain our businesses, endure this pandemic… and just deal with the complexities of life, I think of my husband and feel so safe… anchored. Being loved the right way is overwhelming. It’s an experience within itself. The overflow of someone’s good nature is what we find ourselves enamored by in this euphoric cycle of bliss. It’s what vowels are made of. What intention desires to be and our decisions work so tirelessly to prove. It is to love without condition, force logic to conform into an uncontrollable state and take the risk of betting it all on the faith that someone will fight everything life has to offer with great conviction and dedication with you. It is that thing that will be the last memory of a hopeless romantic that kept a smile on his face through 60 years until his last days. 

 Nothing in the world mattered to him. The news, featuring countless, heart-wrenching stories leaving everyone with these unsettling anxieties paled in comparison to his thought of her. In my poor attempt of trying to comprehend the full spectrum of the disease that is dementia, I thought it to be both a curse and a blessing of some twisted sorts to have one last memory and it being the love of your life. I also thought of her and the weight of knowing all the fruit that came from that love, yet only acknowledging a particular moment. She is weighted with history while he is stuck in that moment and they are both trying to love each other respectively in time. How do Rich and I get to 60 years? What will influence my decision to wake up every morning and to love him with equal or more intensity than the last day? What do we hold on to when it seems like we are free falling together? What’s a mountain, a mole hill and what’s just another incline to overcome in the grand scheme of things? Bickering about bills, if you put the toilet seat down, who didn’t compliment who if they got a new look, doesn’t matter. At the end of the day… “Remember, I love you.”

[jancynco]

Making Love to Music

I have always had an insatiable affair with music. Throughout the progressions of my life I have always associated pivotal moments with some musical underlying soundtrack. From James Fauntleroy to Andre 3000, Gotye or Alina Baraz, I have always explored the many genres of music throughout the various facets of my self-proclaimed complex life. I believe music has an arresting effect on us as humans because its origin is not man-made. It’s an experience… Spiritually gifted to us through the design of worship. I obsess over this thought frequently and wanted to know what the correlation between nature and sound was. While listening to a freestyle by Royce the five’9 he mentioned in a verse a mathematical theory known as the “Fibonacci sequence.” From what I gather, in layman‘s terms, it is nature’s pattern of duplicity also known in the music world as the golden ratio. I believe this is a sonic perfection that as a song is being composed builds layers that overwhelmingly engulfs us within resounding patterns and tones. If I could paint a picture it would be as though nature, science and spirit or… Mind, body and soul collaborate to produce one sonically infectious cord. This provided context for my love of music and inspired me to look over my life and produce a discography for each stage. Sounds of blackness: I Believe

I vividly remember Saturday mornings with my parents as they would sing sounds of blackness to one another while cleaning the house. The raspy textured vocals of Ann Nesby pierced through the harmonizing of the choir and upbeat tempo heavily influenced by the transcendence of early 90′s hip hop beats into the inspirational genre. This is a happier moment in my life. The genuine hope that eludes from the lyrics “I believe” reflected the early ages of my childhood, expectancy and untested faith. It’s that beautiful moment in life typically around new beginnings of bliss and the repetition of the chorus, as well as the many times my parents played the track over and over again reinforcing the belief that things would always be on the upside. This song would prove itself to be the bed music of my entire life tested through the many renditions of me coming into my own.

 Kanye West & Lil Wayne: Barry Bonds

This is black. Unapologetic. Confidence. Ascensions. This is the underdog’s anthem. I was fresh out of college with a degree very few expected I would get, negotiated my internship into a full time salary with benefits and best of all, debt free. I was naive and a slave to the moment. On the precipice of life, not fully grasping that this celebratory phase was not the straight linear progression of life we assume. The American dream, this false narrative, this unhealthy expectation is what fuels us when we have been given just enough to spark hope but not enough life experience to know how efficient we must be with that same hope. “I done played the underdog my whole career. I’ve been a very good sport, haven’t I this year?” This indirect declaration, guised in humility served as a notice that everyone was going to witness the fruition of my efforts. This had to be the most foolish moment of my twenties. I traveled everywhere I could, started my company, created experiences I am shameful to tell my parents yet proud to tell my kids one day and blew through several thousands of dollars. By the end of my self-motivated Barry Bonds tour I lost everything. It’s funny that now in my thirties when I recall that time, I wouldn’t change it. I sometimes miss the chaos of that grind, the exhilaration of that movement. I went from having the mentality of an underdog, to actually becoming one in position. I often wonder if I would ever be the somber, contemplative woman I am today if it wasn’t for that inhibited rebel being. In my own mind I was #blackaf before blackaf was blackaf. I think we all have to go through our “AF” moments. I miss her or rather her zest for life. Frank Ocean: Thinking Bout You

From the melodic strings of the acoustic guitar within the intro to the paradox of playful vocals lightly placed on the track and the angst of a worrisome writer translating his emotions through words, this song was my exploratory years manifested. Ocean's ongoing confessions of his thoughts almost at times seem to be a practice of convincing himself of a truth he was discovering. To illustrate the satirical symbolism of evidence of how much he cares is noticeably overshadowed by the insecurities in which he asked at the end of the chorus “Do you think about me still?” I remember this song distinctly while I was dating in multiple cities. I was trying to define who I was and what I was to others but soon realized my identity was not contingent upon what was reciprocated from others by what I gave. Thinking Bout You feels eerily haunting as though he is not even expressing these sentiments out loud. Almost like a rehearsed plea in preparation for disappointment. That’s what I felt at that time of my life. I tried to garner friendships by purchasing the likes of others through gifts, my time, mental space, and fragmented pieces of my heart. I purchased people and wanted the instant validation of their commitment to show proof of investment. I’m thinking bout you…did you think about me…STILL. That song personified my depression. Louis York: I enjoy you

The deep, richness felt within the rhythmic vibe of the cello literally bathes me in the sensation of sensual peace. I instantly think of my husband. I think about when he kisses me, he lingers on my lips and this rush of adoration and contentment feels the space our kiss just occupied. I enjoy this…I enjoy him. There are several wonders of the world but when contested by his embrace, pales in comparison. I’m enamored by him and it only deepens my appreciation for everything else in my life. The exploration of his kiss to the satisfaction of tasting the goodness of life through him…I enjoy it. There’s an instrumental section in the song that last longer then what you will find in a usual jazz composition. Like it gets so good for the writer and the musicians that they let the song breathe so that you could feel that gratification too. My husband feels like a warm song in fall. On repeat. The keys flirt with the singer in this sensual game of tag. It’s only when the song concludes that you are transported out of this euphoric trance and into the state of reflection that you come to yourself and think…That was good. Like a Cabernet Sauvignon…Dark chocolate… A distant lover upon arrival. “I enjoy you” is simply satisfying.

This is me loving life and its process…music. We must identify these moments and take pleasure in enjoying our songs. We must make love to music.

[jancynco]

Benz Friendz

Let’s be transparent. The level of vulnerability it requires from someone when it pertains to relationships forces one to lie in the balance of hope and angst. I want to be better for relationships but I want to protect my heart from any wrongdoings. The internal strenuous desire to be connected versus the instinct of self-preservation. It is such a profound struggle we all face that the social behaviors of culture has created entire movements, for example the “cancel culture”… The subject matter of the toxic workplace… and the cringe worthy discussion of cutting off family. I suspect that at our core we are designed for community however technology gives us the liberty to create protected silos and as we evolve we are trying to force two contradictory ideas and as a result social anxieties are running rampant. BS! That entire dissertation you just read was to explain logically how I feel about my every day relationships but let’s be real, rationale and relationships rarely coexist because of our emotions and feelings. Look, I STRUGGLE! Throughout the course of my life I have used pivotal moments as benchmarks with people to determine the validity of their friendship. You truly don’t take into consideration that other people have their own lives to tend to. I find myself questioning whether these relationships grew apart organically, was separation inevitable, or could I have put more into sustaining the friendship and if reconciliation was necessary. Now there are relationships that absolutely should not have ever occurred but even in such a lapse valuable lessons are always learned. I sincerely want quality relationships and I can’t help but wonder if the dissatisfaction and disappointment I feel in myself is attributed to the characteristics I display. My mom and her best friend have maintained a friendship since they were seven in spite of circumstance, distance and time. That level of love, loyalty, commitment and unwavering dedication is almost unheard of nowadays… Granted this is all coming from my myopic view of long term friendships. How can I be a better friend just like my mom? When you love anyone you’re never supposed to keep tallies of deeds and such, however, there is a level of confidence and expectation that puts you at ease in the consistency of actions. I chuckle when I think of Jesus and his interpersonal relationships. He was accessible to all, followed by many, delegated to some, friend to a handful and yet still found Himself alone in the garden at the most trying time of His life. It bothered Him! Dude was ticked. Like for real? My squad sleep… Right now? Bet. The one thing I take away whenever I read that moment in the gospels is that Jesus vehemently loved everybody regardless. I want to emulate my life in such a way that my maturity defies the “regardless” in my life. Thinking out loud. What can be the anchor in my current and future friendships? Love? Is that enough? God is there some pride still left in my heart? Should I initiate reconciliation or is it even necessary? At what point is compassion, understanding and patience being abused? Lord, how do I intentionally and consistently take the focus off of me? When will the lack of met expectation not hurt? I don’t want to be nor do I want to surround myself with “Benz friendz.” Benz Friendz? The common hip hop colloquialism for those who are around when times are good and Mercedes BENZ worthy rather than peddling uphill on a bike. Benz Friendz. I figured we have all endured this situation in some form or fashion and have experience the universal feeling of disappointment. The only encouragement I can land is in the fact that if we are still able to question and assess ourselves there is more than ample amount of space for growth. That always leads to improvement. Cheers to better connections.

[jancynco]

The Crown

I sat at the edge of my bed, alone, listening to the rain outside my bedroom and the humming of the A/C on this melody of stillness. My husband left for work a few short hours ago and I just rested in the company of my thoughts enjoying the feeling of being present in the moment. I ran my fingers through my hair and when I let go, noticed a clump the size of a dime between my index finger and thumb. This had been happening for some time. The cocktails of medicines I had been taking to protect my body from infections due to the dual transplant was in turn thinning my hair. By this time in my life I wasn’t necessarily sadden by the loss but more so annoyed at the fact I had to subdue my carefree spirit which was prominently reflected through my aesthetics for the comfort of others once again. It is grossly tiresome to be consistently critiqued nonstop because of your appearance. Even more when what you look like regardless of what you might have gone through may cause the discomfort of others due to their lack of empathy or understanding through differences. I love myself. I truly enjoy being in my skin. Every scar, curve and bone makes me appreciate what the Creator did because there is no other being like me. My husband puts to rest any and every insecurity I try to bring up simply from his words and the way he touches me. It is blissful… content. Spiritually, mentally and physically assuring in my little bubble. That internal contentment, that peace that took years to evolve into is always under attack when I walk out into the world from the safety of my home. Differences. Abnormalities. Daily I hear from a great deal of people “you look tired”, “what are you doing with your hair?”, or a back hand remark on what I wear. I grow wearisome at times. I live in a world not conducive for someone like me or persons alike. Accommodations have been made but you can’t help but feel that it was an afterthought once a particular community, the disabled community, grew substantially where a demand to recognize our value in society was forced to be heard. This truly goes back to being comfortable in whatever setting, with whomever… however I am. Allow me to paint a picture in a void of darkness. One of the realities I had to face was when I was told that I made someone else feel uncomfortable because they were used to seeing a much healthier version of myself. Not to be sensitive but if you feel discomfort around me imagine what internal and external obstacles I have to overcome to just be acknowledge, receive the same amount of respect as my counterparts, adjust the focus and sharpness of my learning style to not only match my peers but standout among them. You are uncomfortable? No. I am uncomfortable. What’s normal anyway? This might be a stretch but why is it always the responsibility for the “oppressed” to do twice as much to be on a leveled playing field when their start is beneath a set standard created by someone other than themselves? I digress. My crown. My hair. The reflection of my personality and style. The instant identification of my heritage. My sun-kissed, loose curl, brown crown. Legislation has been created to control the power of self-identity within the workplace through the self-expression of hair. Pop culture has misappropriated hair styles with lack of regard of its origin. Movements have sprung up rapidly through social mediums to simply acknowledge the originality and individuality of… hair. I am writing this piece to act as a mirror. I wanted to show the magnitude of someone’s personal style and how it shapes their views in society and how one comment or deconstructive opinion has an affect that exceeds the few seconds it took you to share your unsolicited thoughts. In no way am I not saying to not look out for your friend or acquaintance best interest however I am saying there is a way to do so with compassion and an awareness. We do not know what it takes for each of us to hold our crowns.

[jancynco]

Lost in Translation

“What did you learn from our last year of marriage?” I sat at the foot of the bed as the husband gathered his thoughts and joined me while we pigged out on candy. This was as close to a honeymoon as we have gotten as newlyweds. After we said our “I do’s” in front of a crowd of ten relatives we hit the ground running. We had intentions of taking an extravagant vacation later in the year and wanted to focus on cultivating the relationship and at the same time make a sound financial decision that wouldn’t come back to haunt us. Little did we know, our strategic planning would benefit us in a much different manner when we faced the difficulties of “in sickness and in health”. He paused and contently said he was simply happy to reach a year. I am very sensitive to emotions when I am in the company of others. Focusing on the type of words used in our dialogue, the inflections, volume and pauses all are a part of the explorative experience of communication for me. His answer made me understand that our views on success and the measure of what it is was distinctly different. Now, if I listed ALL that we went into that first year we could possibly star in the drama series This Is Us but that’s neither here nor there. Everyone endures some form of stretching within the honeymoon phase. Did he not think we were going to make it? Were there doubts? Will he feel this way every orbit around the sun? For clarity sake I simply asked him to explain. What I learned really reflected the differences in family dynamics, upbringings, our personalities and our views on faith. His success, from what I gathered, was survival until a goal was met. For me it was a barometer on how well we thrived within that same time. The problem with the way I approached success is that it required comparisons or benchmarks I recognized from various couples not taking into consideration all the various complexities of other relationships. Simply put, his thoughts were “we made it” and mine were “how well did we make it.” I missed some moments of growth because of where I directed my focus. We would spend time with older couples that had been married for decades and of course communication was always the main suggestion for a successful relationship. However, talking was not enough… at least not for us. Listening with the intent of understanding and not a response took work. Patience, when an “I don’t know” took the place of where I expected an explanation proved agonizing in the middle of silence. Realizing that different cultures can easily be misinterpreted in the heat of a moment and is a true art to comprehend. As a wife, I won’t understand the pressure of being a husband and what that position holds. I will only experience the pressure from the weight he feels. I had to articulate that his pressures speaks volumes even when he doesn’t and there is also a unique factor that makes this even harder. Being blind, I can be very expressive, observant and introspective because I want to maintain the artistry of dialogue just like someone with all of their faculties. Society has created this norm deeming any expression of emotions as weakness for men. Where others have the leisure of picking up on body language, ticks or facial expressions, I can’t see how most are trying to communicate with me. We had work to do. We were committed to each other and getting it right… our way. We get people all the time asking us about our story or wanting advice. We can’t do anything but laugh because we both know we came into the marriage as lifelong students of one another. There will always be learning curves because of the love and understanding that individuals evolve. Jokingly I sit here admitting I know nothing but that’s the fun part of choosing a life with someone. It builds up this anticipation for the future that leaves little to no room for complacency. Furthermore, if we are truly being honest, I do not feel worthy of giving any advice on anything unlike the majority of people under the guise of “influencer” nowadays. I share my story in palatable bites as I have been able to digest and learn from because it might help someone? Sure but I am only obligated to give a testimony to illustrate God’s glory. We will do so wherever we are summoned and what is apropos. This very long blog post was written to simply say that the most important part of communication is listening. Don’t get lost in translation.

[jancynco]

A Wrinkle in Time

We are all but vapors. Moments wrapped in beautifully flawed attempts of defining right from wrong. I always envisioned us together, extending seconds to minutes and minutes into memories that I could always play back in my mind at moment’s notice. At my worst, I longed for you like my life depended on it. In that instance, it did because deep down inside I know I won’t truly have you forever. I think that is what makes your kiss so tantalizing to my soul. God’s view of you put things in perspective for me in such a challenging way. How do I become the best version of myself? As a young girl, I can’t say I expected you would ever come to manifest anything of true significance in my life. As I came to grow as a woman I misused the delicate patience you undeservingly gifted me. When you began to fade away I realized how precious you were to me and the mere thought of not having you around scared me. There was an accountability that came with your presence and it wasn’t until you started slipping through my fingers, did I want the responsibility of enjoying you. I expressed to you how I wanted to experience old age, the world, the joy of creating and discover all …with you. What does forever look like to you? It’s hard not to look at what we have as a passionate affair. You only belong to me just for a moment. As much as I want to linger in your arms, I know this won’t last. In lieu of love, what’s infinity to an expiration date. As my hunger grows stronger every second I realize how much of a gift you are that I have on lease. When people doubted that you would stay, you proved them wrong and I loved you that much more for validating your connection with my purpose. I thank God for you. I know He uses you in ways I sometimes take advantage of. I am learning to respect the essence of who you are and how I evolve within you. Thank you, Time, for giving me more of you so I can have more of my husband, my family… my purpose. You have allowed me to grow, make mistakes and heal, all the while admiring the beauty of your power in our relationships among humanity. One day you will leave my embrace and continue on your journey as my purpose is fulfilled and I am ok with separate yet intertwined destinies. I’ll humbly ask that you stay with me for as long as you can and promise to take moments to just be with the understanding that you can’t make promises. Forever will just have to suffice as a moment. I will make the most of you. Sincerely, A Vapor

[jancynco]

Waiting to Exhale

I sat in the tub and let the steam and heat relax the tension that was built up all in my body. My husband came in, sat beside me on the floor and in a tone of disbelief just sighed and said “I don’t understand”. I exhaled. We had just completed our goals for the next couple of years, filled with professional ambitions, a place to build a home and little versions… the best parts of ourselves… to fill that home with. I had finally penned a letter back to the family of my kidney/pancreas donor after two and a half years and four drafts. We were a week away from our one year anniversary and the doctors during my check up just gave us a gut punch we didn’t see coming. Because most of 2019 was primarily spent in the hospital fighting off complications so far beyond my control the damage to my kidney was what they considered a critical matter. Every minute of the doctors appointment felt like this insane, unreal lapse in time. All I heard was that I had two options. Either I can move forward with the immune suppressant treatments which would put me at a very high risk for cancer or move forward with applying for another kidney and just wait until it was time to go back on dialysis. I felt my husband. I felt his anger, his confusion… his helplessness. All I could muster out to say was “what did I do?” Nothing. I apparently was dealt a bad hand. I think it would have been much easier if I could blame something I did. At least I would feel like something was preventable but this, this was no explanation. We walked out the examination room and I plastered a smile as fake as acrylic to hide how I really felt. Grabbing RAM’s hand as tight as I could I whispered in his ear to get me the hell out of there and as soon as the door opened and the air hit my face a sob escaped my lips so loud it shocked me. At the same time, RAM yelled in a fit of anger I had not experienced with him before. He said lets pray and I responded “no, I have nothing to say to God.” I wasn’t angry or sad. I was empty. Just empty. God I don’t think I have the strength to keep doing this. To just keep fighting to show my faithfulness…. To show You glory. Why do I have to suffer in order for You to illustrate Your goodness? How can I worship You when I don’t trust that You won’t hurt me for the sake of glory? There we were, in the middle of the parking lot at the hospital in the rain as my husband pleaded with God to give us a break. It was sad as hell and I was so weak from the weight I lost that I literally just collapsed in his arms and cried. Bath time for me is my alone time to reflect and meditate so that’s what I did. Confused as I could be and trying to figure out what quality of life can be built… salvaged. I tried numerous times to advance in my career to no avail. If I die, will my husband be ok? How many birthdays will I miss of my nephew? Will there ever be a time where I can just exhale? We never told anyone how bad it was our first year of marriage. I tend to hide behind humor and sarcasm cause I don’t do sympathy well at all. I feel like as a Christian there is a responsibility I have to maintain in my journey in what and how I disclose a testimony.Part of it is maturity with the understanding of the peace privacy brings and the other is the insecurity that comes with sharing a testimony. We have had several people say they wish they had what we did or share your story cause the world needs to hear it. You don’t know what that costs. I am going to admit I am writing this because I am on the otherside of faith. With my whole heart I believe a miracle is going to be the final punctuation of my journey. I got this off my chest for people to understand the price to share just a fragment of someones heart. Through it all I wanted to show consistent faith in spite of my confusion, prognosis, emotion and circumstance.I just have my faith and that is all I need. Exhale.

[jancynco]

Rain When I’m Gone

So today I learned of a family friend passing away. If I’m honest, I did not have a very close relationship with her but her spirit left a lasting impression nonetheless. I was taken aback by my reaction. In the few moments we had shared she was always so warm and inviting. Never made me feel alienated by my differences and always asked about my well being although it was my Mom that kept in contact with her. Everyone that knew her spoke so highly of her. People genuinely cared about her and that was just a testament of how she made you feel. It just seemed like no one was a stranger to her.

I admired the relationship she had with her daughter and it made me wonder if there was a limit put on the time with my Mom how would I share it. How could I maximize the time I had with my family. I remember having to wear a mask to church because of the crowd and she told my Mom that I could sit by her and we would wear our mask together. She helped me with my doctors appointments and she honestly did not have to do that at all. She just ensured that I had the top care and whenever I had questions when I called she always had an answer.

Apparently she knew the sand of her hour glass was worth savoring a little more in recent times and I understood what that feeling was. I have had doctors explain what death looks like in reference to my situation but I can’t say I know what it feels to be at peace with myself. I don’t even know if she was. It just seemed that way from what I was told about all the places she traveled to and the people that spoke about her. Seriously, what would you do if you could not flip the hourglass of your life? What are some of the things you would do that you otherwise did not have the courage to accomplish? Would you reconcile past hurts or let time heal what was left after you were gone? What places would you explore and not leave undisturbed by your footprints? What wrong would you right? I truly am kind of rocked. I don’t know.

I want to leave people happier than the way I found them like she did. I want God to be pleased with me but what does that look like when you are against the clock? One day far into the future, I want it to rain when I’m gone not to blanket my loved ones with the feeling of grief but to represent the life rain brings.

Ms. Etta, thank you for the impression you left. For making me smile every time I had the pleasure of being around you. For making others laugh when you might not have had the energy or strength. I remember the forever roses at Dr. Gray’s office you would always talk about when we were leaving. I can’t think of anything more symbolically beautiful that represents the lively hood and legacy of your spirit. I’m sure you are in heaven with a beat face finally at rest. You are truly missed Queen.

[jancynco]

Truth Is..

This year has truly been the best of times and the worst of times. I don’t think Charles Dickens could have coined a better phrase. I got married to the absolute love of my life, moved into a great place and got a little bit of my independence back. The same joy of the mountain top was also faced with some of the toughest battles I have had to fight in my adult life. More than half of my marriage was spent in the hospital, my company after an incredible launch stalled out and there were some losses with ties I thought would last a lifetime. Through it all I can say that I garnered an understanding that I have come to appreciate at this stage in my life that if I experienced at a younger age I would have tried to subdue the pain of griedf and would have lacked the fortitude to endure and grow. Its been humbling and quite frankly I never asked for the lesson. I didn’t think I deserved it. I had to stop blaming others for my reaction to their wrong doings. When you reach a level of maturity were self awareness and accountability becomes a factor, you lose the ability to give the excuse that who you are today is the result of what was done to you in your former days. You do not get the license to hurt others because you were hurt. There were childhood pains that forever altered the trajectory of my life but it is up to me to end generational curses. There were friends I dedicated time and my heart to that although it didn’t last it developed a stamina and appreciation for those that would come and occupy those voids in my life. Even professionally, there was an expectation or this idea that I deserved the authority and position that has never come which I am learning the patience I am building is for something much greater than I can fathom right now. It is all a change of perspective not for you to be comfortable in a situation but for you to adapt. I am changing. It has been an isolated walk at times filled with misunderstandings and confusion. Trust issues with others and especially God. You know I have always been fascinated with the dicatomy of church, of religion, of a believer. I remember crying out to God with tubes in my stomach, muscles deteriating without the ability to see a thing and I also remember crying out to God with thanksgiving in my heart with the full capacity to walk, dual transplant and STILL unable to see. What keeps someones faith intact when the outcome isn’t what you expected? I have experienced depression over the pasts couple of months and I have experienced anxieties over things that haven’t even happened yet and I have concluded that it it comes down to trust and isolation. When you trust someone or something you are putting your complete confidence into an expectation that it is going to do, fully, what it is supposed to do. Issues come when those expectations are consistently unmet over time. Honestly that is what it had felt like with my health and relationships. My husband and I were praying til we cried, walking around the hospital 7 times, praying over water and drinking it and one day I was like this is some straight bull. Doctors explaining to me how I could die and I am just sitting in the hospital bed in amazement like this is truly what my life had become. Honest thoughts. I fought this hard only to die from something completely out of my control. You know its funny because I would hear OGs say its not a matter of you being sick but if you stay sick long enough you will see who is for you. I learned quick that illness supercedes the physical. It gets lonely. Your loved ones are affected by it but you are the one that experience it in its totality. I just grew tired and recluse. I couldn’t keep up the appearance of “happy.”I couldn’t hide behind a smile or a joke. I didn’t want to come off as this self deprivating charming person just to make others feel comfortable with the struggle I was going through anymore. I didn’t want to have an expectation anymore as a way to control disappointment. I stop posting and writing about it. I simply and quietly wanted to get my affairs in order to protect my husband and my family. It was a way for me to have control and it would make him so angry at how casual and comfortable I had become with the idea of death. You know people say that I talk about my husband a lot but I want folks to know that I have never experienced a love outside of my family that was the equivalent and sometimes more of the effort I give to him. When someone loves you more than you love yourself at times whether that’s a spouse, parent, sibling friend or whatever it is truly life changing. If I was simply living for myself I probably would have given up a long time ago but when you live for someone else it gives you context to your purpose. My past has been quite colorful and I am just not ashamed of it. I distinctly remember being in compromising situations and it was the thought of my family that pushed me through. I could never understand why God talked to me in those moments. There were several occasions when I was younger and depressed that God spoke and I just thought Your timing sucks and why do you keep bringing me back to life when I have tried so hard to leave. This time of the year always hits a rough spot cause about 7 or 8 years ago I sat in a hotel room and I just had a party in my suite. Folks passed out in my room and I remember running the bath water. It was scolding hot. Looked in the mirror, filled the entire glass with 1800 tequila, crushed about a handful or hydrocodone pills, took the powder to the head a chased it down with the glass. I sat in the tub and waited. Woke up and was still alive. I was just shocked. Later I would hit the club up for my birthday, catch a flight to Chicago and fall into a medically induced coma. Still alive. This was my twenties consistently until one day I was like I am here for some ridiculous reason cause I can’t explain a thing. The truly funny thing about it all is I was going to church on a regular just hemorrhaging dying to get help and screaming with my mouth close. Just sitting in the pews like help I’m an alcoholic, help I’m addicted to pain killers, help I use people, help I just might have PTSD. Hello/! Let me just go shout out my anger, pray it out and go back to everyday life like absolutely nothing is happening behind closed doors. I am not scared to tell my full story even today but there is a sense of responsibility for others in how they view the God in me through those struggles. I have always been policed in a way about my own story and how I should share it or when. I firmly believe facing death the last couple of months was the source of liberation I needed from everything preventing me to connecting to you. As I sit at this desk wondering what God is going to do with my life and direct me out of this “rut” me writing this is the start or something. I don’t want my battle to be in vain. There is nothing, not a single thing that anyone can do THAT I or anyone has a right to judge them on. Meaning to my life is someone changing theirs because they learned from my experiences. That’s all we can truly contribute to humanity to simply make it better than how we found it. God is still working on my non-belief and I think its important for people to know that when you make the decision to follow God that it is not a finite process. That would be contradictory. It is ongoing and ever-evolving. We will always be in a astate of searching and striving for understanding but that is where wisdom and humility comes from. As a grown woman, I am now learning what it means to be a Christain all over again without the influence of my parents, tradition, culture or peers. Its ok to start over… its simply ok to just start but change starts with a decision.

[jancynco]

As His Wife

It’s hard being strong all the time, for everyone, everywhere. Angelina Jolie has this saying in this old film, “ this is not a love story but a story about love”. Although when I was younger I understood what they meant contextually but life illustrated how we have this false ideology of untested love. I am very protective over my husband, my marriage, the lifetime covenant I made and honor. However, it would be remiss of me to talk about the last 60 days without explaining the vulnerabilities and complexities of our love. We always joke around and talk about how we have experienced our vowels to one another before we really had a chance to enjoy the married life. I was terribly ill when we started in two months within our marriage I was back in the hospital. I truly do not know a struggle as an adult without my husband there. I think I just realized that. I was so angry with God, so angry. Why would You ever make me a burden again after I gave you all of me. RAM was so undeserving. I have started to notice a change in my body for weeks. I chunked it up to normal stresses at work, the newlywed bliss, moving into a new place and just learning this new way of life. I would come home incredibly lethargic, cook dinner for the both of us, and pass out for hours. I could not pinpoint what it was. One day on the ride home RAM in his concerned yet assuring voice asked if I thought we were pregnant. In my head I was scared but welcomed the thought because ultimately that is truly what I wanted. I don’t know why I allowed myself to focus so hard on that possibility but any sickness related to my transplant was so far removed because I never wanted to relive those years. So we went home, I took the test, it was a negative. Something is wrong. His birthday was coming up and everybody knows I enjoy celebrating life and people. I decided I can be sick later being around family would hopefully uplift my spirits and things will be OK. The very next day sitting hand-in-hand at the doctors with my head in his lap they explained that I might be experiencing a transplant rejection. I was immediately admitted into the hospital within 30 minutes. Never have I gotten into a hospital bed so fast. Why the hell couldn’t I just be pregnant… We were in and out of the hospital for 60 days. I went through four different treatments in order to get my kidney back on track and I am still fighting to get my liver back to normal.. It came out of nowhere and blindsided me… No pun intended. There are tears in my eyes right now as I try to explain experiencing my husband witness what I went through. In all of his love, support, compassion and care he couldn’t fix this and I never truly understood what it means to a man when they can’t fix something that’s out of their control. I remember praying and crying in his chest as we both beg God to free us from this trial. We prayed hard... so hard in the middle of the night only for the next day to be readmitted into the hospital for an additional biopsy because the doctors had no clue of what was going on. I felt so betrayed. He was angry. I was confused. He wanted answers. We just wanted one another home. I could not imagine being separated from my husband even in death. “I do” was a life binding confession and we haven’t even had a chance to live out those words. I would post on Facebook about God‘s goodness and faithfulness and sit in the crux of doubt and relentless hope. Overtime the weight of the situation begin to press the very foundation of our marriage. Communication begin to be tense. Patience was low but all we truly ever wanted was to get back to some kind of normalcy. I don’t think it was coincidence or chance that my parents celebrated their 35 years while I was in the hospital. They kept reminding us that every day you have to make the choice to stay true to your commitment and above all keep God and no one else or thing in your marriage. When I couldn’t pray, he would. When he couldn’t pray, I would. We tried to make the best out of the situation and have date night in the hospital. For that hour, we would order food and just enjoy one another trying to escape out of the current circumstance. Our nurses wouldn’t interrupt us and just respected the time that we needed in order for me to truly recover. It was in those moments of time spent together and communicating through our frustrations that I discovered what faithfulness was. I realized the importance of leaning on your partner and not allowing pride take the place of vulnerability. I understand that honesty, no matter how hard the truth might sting, is a necessary preventive antidote to an issue that left untreated can separate you from what matters. As his wife I learned patience. As his wife I learned what it meant to seek after God. As his wife I understand that fighting doesn’t have to be a singular battle. I witnessed a reflection of God’s love for me... as his wife.

[jancynco]

The Grammar in Writing a Book

For about four years I have had numerous people tell me to write a book and I would always reply with “there hasn’t been a punctuation in my story yet”. Basically there hasn’t been a stopping point I felt comfortable enough to say that everything I went through got me “here”. Additionally, I have always felt a little wrong capitalizing in any way off a struggle even if it is my own. I don’t want to be known or defined as a moment in my life. I would like my life story to be comprised of a myriad of still waters, rushing rapids, water falls and everything in between. Over time I pictured a punctuation moment. It was my wedding. In my heart and dreams I imagined getting to that point meant that I survived an illness that has killed or affected both family and friends. It meant I overcame the obstacle of being blind, stop sitting in a place of anger with people and situations out of my control. It finally meant I got to a place with God that life didn’t get easier, it just got easier to manage. These were dreams I would rehearse over and over in my head at every doctors appointment. I was going to get married and fill this entire book about the hardships of being young and dealing with love, loss, mental health issues and God. I was going to address every single person and situation by name I kept buried in my heart that fueled my anger. I lived off the energy of that anger for a while. I couldn’t stop talking about it. Years had passed, lives had moved on and leaves had changed. Then something weird happened. I turned 30 and God weighed forgiveness so heavy on my heart. It was like no other conviction I had ever experienced before. I knew it was one of those deep uprootings cause He forced me to forgive people from childhood. Unforgivable things I had to face head on. It took prayer, my family, therapy and serious reflection that challenged me to stop sedating the pain and go through it. Something changes in you when you fully experience pain. There’s not only a deeper appreciation but an understanding of your strength. I wrote letters, some I sent and some I destroyed cause my truth would be at the expense of someones salvation. He showed my compassion and empathy, two things I had never concerned myself with until I needed them. I remember at a really young age asking God for several things. Never leave me, make me great and bless me so I can bless those who mean a lot to me. All of these things require something from you. I know now that asking God to never leave my side was the wisest thing my young self could have ever asked for. Asking God to make me great might have been foolish because of the intentions. Oceans are great because the earth in which it sits in has been greatly carved out. Don’t ever ask for something you aren’t willing to sacrifice greatly for. The last one about blessing my loved ones keeps me in a constant state of humility. I can say with confidence that what I went through brought my family closer together. Living a life conducive for giving to others makes me understand truly what they did for me. The day came. My wedding. In a room surrounded by ten of our family members, we made a vow. Words cannot be formed that would give the warmth and intimacy of the spiritual experience felt any justice. God never left. Being whole was my greatness. The blessing came in the form of unconditional love. It cost us something. There were sacrifices made, patience to be learned and growth that had to take place but no one can deny… I won’t ever deny that it was worth making a life commitment, a vow I will spend the rest of my life fulfilling to a man I can absolutely call mine. If the cost in holding Rich’s hand for the rest of my life was my sight, I will live my days dreaming. He is the punctuation to the story God blessed me to live. Your book will have characters that last til the end and others who were only meant for an impact that would be the cause of a pivotal change. What starts in the intro will unfold as pages turn and it is your perspective along with your life choices that bring context to the book. Let no one, experience or view be a narrative to your own story. Punctuations and placement are everything. Enjoy them in the moment because as your growth becomes the vehicle in your story’s progression, the end is always a mystery. My story, is just beginning…

[jancynco]

Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder

Have you ever wondered why we close our eyes when captivated by a passionate kiss? I have several theories about this involuntary submission. I believe that the moments leading up to it are filled with such agonizing anticipation that we close our eyes in effort to not disturb the collaboration of passion being shared with the distraction of what we might glance at with our eyes. I believe, naturally our eyes close in order for the rest of our senses to feel the weight and enormity of this delicate dance. It is such a beautiful gift that our bodies physically and desperately attempt to stop time by shutting everything else around us out but The very thing that is right in front of us. I spend a considerable amount of time highlighting the challenges and obstacles that come with being visually impaired. It is rare, although a very large portion of my life, that I explain the beauty of living in a senseless bliss.. Unless time is shared audibly, I really have no instant validation of where I am throughout the day. Typically when I am hungry, it might be mid day. The sounds of chirping birds and the warmth of the sun outside my window will let me know it might be morning. A cool breeze and cars rapidly passing by might indicate that it’s the afternoon. When a permanent fixture or instrument of time is removed a very peculiar thing happens. Your sense of time and what it means begins to vary around your purpose. It’s focused… Direct… Sometimes uncomfortably aggressive in the eagerness of its nature. Every idea, word and movement has a reason, intended end and meaning. This is why we say things like “life is short” or “time goes by fast when we’re having fun.” Purpose and time are not synonymous but if you have one you will have the other. What tends to happen is that the more we see the more we limit ourselves, Our abilities, our thoughts, and our time which inadvertently confines our purpose to our strength. What we perceive as strengths are weak to an all encompassing and omniscient God. If we are all spirits temporarily living in bodies until we are called back to heaven, we really were never created to end that is why we say that death is a transition. Our bodies respect time and for that we naturally react to time. But what happens when you cannot see the remnants of time? What if when you open your eyes you could not see the effects of aging, growth, death, life a sun and a moon but you could feel it? Purpose becomes imminent, awareness is heightened and time becomes as precious as stones. As long as you have purpose, you have time. As long as you have time, you have a purpose to fulfill. We are never granted the opportunity of knowing how much time we have left but we are given a purpose. Live in purpose. I discovered the beauty of my affliction, my purpose, while spending time in isolation. Losing my site, the ability to walk and spending nine hours every single night doing dialysis will force you to desire an end and crave in the most excruciating way, time. The paradox seemed cruel for one person.Everything was trapped in my head because I had no visual outlet to direct and detour my thoughts and energy. It was only through faith and love that I kept my sanity in my quiet place, the darkness. Beautiful things happen in the dark. When you close your eyes you might remember a fond memory a little bit more clearer. When you pray, you close your eyes. Dreams and ideas are birthed at night. Woman was created when man was sleep. Seeds are planted in in the darkness of dirt. A Savior was born… In the middle of the night. You never truly experience the depth of love into you have endured darkness. What does blind love look like… Or better yet, feel like? I notice The pauses, inflections and pace of what RaM is telling me. We began dating in the thick of both of our darkness. We have an bond that goes deeper than the superficial. It has been cultivated by time and trials. I have developed a keen appreciation behind the meaning of his words. When he is guiding me down the street when we hold hands I can feel the intensity of the moment as well as the attention of our surroundings and intention behind every embrace. I have noticed when he is hungry, angry, excited, tired or happy simply buy placing my hand on his chest and feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. It all seems so romantic in theory but very practical in nature. I can’t help but wonder if I would even have the instinct to pay attention to these moments if I was given the responsibility of sight. It seems as though the world wants us to hurry when we are just trying to linger in between our moments. Although Time seems to quicken during hours of sadness, Time stops when love is near. I was a mere shadow when I was at my worst but honing my energy, focus and just sheer will to see the possibility of a maybe made his commitment in love so profound it made me feel like a human again and not just a diagnosis. People live an entire lifetime just to experience the fruition of their hopes. Literature is cemented onto paper and embedded in minds to highlight the significance of this action to humankind. I received that in the peak of darkness… both Literally and figuratively. There are many different types of love but I felt it necessary to illustrate this love I have experience because it requires two different beings to lay aside all expectations, love in The very moment you were blessed to have and seek a deeper understanding of your purpose through one another. I may decorate my feelings and expressions with elaborate words, romanticizing the visual placing emphasis on my point but please just take some time to recognize the level of vulnerability of my thoughts. I see time different. I see Faith different. I see love different. You will only see the brightness of a star at night from far away but if you hold on that star will eventually come close enough to turn everything into day is the sun. Beauty will always be in the eye of the beholder because where there is Light there can be no darkness.

[jancynco]

Love Me Gently

Love Me Gently By: Tiffani Robinson My hair. My crown. My glory. At first glance you know exactly how I am feeling, where I am from, and my inspiration. The symbolic paradox that relinquished Sampson of his strength as well as liberated him to honor. The very meticulous and specific acknowledgment of Gods love and attentiveness to me. All the men from my father, to my godfather, to my RAM... has always instilled confidence in who I was as an individual. There is nothing more powerful than when a Black man stands behind a Black woman… She will bring the world to his feet. The instant confidence you witness when a woman is transformed by her hair is simply amazing. My mom and baby sister are two of the most breath taking women I know in this life. I mean they are simply gorgeous, no boost. It’s like they are naturally and effortlessly beautiful. I believe a great deal of that is because of their spirits and their heart… Compassion for those around them. How they treat others illuminates just how truly beautiful they are. I have never thought I was traditionally pretty. Matter of fact, I rebelled against what society deems as pretty and wanted to do my own thing. My hair is where I rebelled so it would come as no surprise that I was utterly devastated when I begin to lose it. It was a chilly November morning and I was waiting on getting my hair done. I had to take my crown braid down and RAM asked which part was weave. See, I have always been open about my hair. This was different however because he was actually witnessing me at one of my most vulnerable moments. I can feel when he’s staring at me or has a question or tilts his head in mid thought. There we were about to unveil our true selves. As I began to unravel my hair I began to feel clumps of my hair fall into my hands. Although my life depends on it, the preservation of my organ transplant through my medicine has come at the expense of my hair. Messy, untamed hair falling over eyes that couldn’t look at the one staring back at me, I instantly felt insecure. I hear him say pleasantly surprised “I like your hair like this.” Wait. What?! In my head I was thinking maybe he was losing his sight as well. But I wore my hair out that night on our date and it was the prettiest I had felt in a long time. I began to take a more holistic and organic approach to my hair and although it grew, 6 months later it was still thin and shedding despite all the efforts I had done. My best friend had gone natural and liberated herself with the big chop. I thought it was so touching that her daughters would grow up seeing what beauty was at its core. I have this play momma that I absolutely adore. She always wears these sky high pumps, designs her own outfits and has these bold frames that sits on her brown skin. She embodies confidence. When she expressed that she was going to do the “big chop” because she was tired of hiding bald spots I was taken aback. I would have never had known that she “hid” behind anything. She walked into work and all I heard was how amazing Ms. Darcie was. I smiled because to see a black working woman with grand babies and such a vibrant infectious energy defeat insecurity and with such fierceness warmed my heart. I called RAM and I asked him what he had thought about me cutting my hair. With a sigh he exclaimed I have loved you when you were sick, when you lost your body and we knew you were going to be healed but it didn’t look like it. You are back now and I think it will look dope. I cut it as soon as I hung up the phone. It is a very strange feeling to want to look good but can’t reference or critique what pretty is. I facetimed him and he loved it. Not sure if he was trying to get points but he showed people... me. I showed my parents and the verdict was the same.It felt sooo GOOD to be liberated but it felt even greater to reflect on how my family loved me through my own ugly moments. Being sick let me know that Rich really loved me. To be quite frank, for a man… especially a man in this day and age plagued by images at the beckon call of a scrolling thumb, to love me through what I went through leaves me speechless everytime I think of him. My eyes changed colors. Curves dwindled down to skin and bones. Skin scarred and discolored. Immobile. Basically at the mercy of a gentle heart. I couldn’t do ANYTHING for him and he still loved me unconditionally. I had nothing to give. Wasn’t expecting to live long at all but he was going to be there, loving me until my misguided end. Low self esteem, value, self worth and his faith and heart endured. That’s a lot to ask but that was the building blocks of our relationship. He loved me gently and it put a relentless love and desire after the God in his heart that was there for me during some dark hours. By closing my eyes, God forced me to trust Rich in a way couples take years to cultivate. With the challenges in our relationship most people typically wont face I don’t think God could have given me anyone better suited for the job. His protection and devotion to my well being, not just physically but emotionally and most importantly spiritually, is reminiscent of my Father. It’s genuine and I used to question his intent all the time but I noticed he still wanted to go out on dates when I felt my ugliest and the thing he does consistently that confirms that he is the one is when he prays for me and my family. Not that cheesy, routine cliché prayer but the ones that help bring peace. The prayers that surround me when I lay my crown down. As chaotic as my life has been, he has always loved me… gently.

[jancynco]

Punctuation Frustrations By: Tiffani Robinson It is so very easy to be angry. The product of that emotion can frolic in the playground of rage if left unattended. I’ve been so irresponsible. I left a lot of things unattended. The older I get the more I have had to be patient and take notice of my emotions but also those that it affects. Funny things begin to happen when you start to respect the pauses in your life sentence… you know… the punctuations. The fluidity and intent of the sentence is predicated heavily by the context but that can become victim of misunderstandings as a result of blind eyes or deaf ears. Structure, punctuation, resonates because it’s palatable to those who read your journey. Here are my scars, the pauses… punctuations I have come to appreciate and strong enough to share. Everybody desires syntax… Ampersand Signs The ampersand sign illustrates relationship. It took a long time for me to find a healthy reflection of myself and where I wanted to go to be the counterpart of that. Ihave never wanted that reflection to be interchangeable regardless of time, circumstance or distance. Life happens. My response to life was bitter. The thing people never grasp a hold of to is that investments are not guaranteed. You never risk more than you are willing to lose. I took bad risk. It wasn’t until I studied the market that I was able to be more versed into my role and started making investments into things that reflected me as opposed to what everyone else thought was good. My portfolio is stable and well diversified. I know I will see the return in my future. It is my Peace & Joy. Elipsis Temporary suspensions. Pauses. Holds. Waiting… patience. I have always lived a fast paced life. I wanted it and I went and got it. When I was younger I wasn’t that person who nursed drinks. I took shots to gauge my night. I have always shot from the hip even at the expense of everything one night three days after my 24th birthday when it caught up with me. I am sure it was a shock to my parents when they got a call from my cousin that I was in a coma from alcohol poisoning and complications from my diabetes. As my Dad would tell me later, he flew by himself to Chicago from Dallas because he didn’t want my Mom to have to bring the body of his daughter back that way. A couple of days later I woke up to people who were unfamiliar and a few years I thought was ahead of what I told the doctor. I didn’t even know I had a sibling. I don’t think I ever fully forgave myself for what I did to my family. I learned quickly, it’s very easy to hide that you’re an alcoholic if you clean up nice,intellectually finesse your way here & there, and attend church often. It’s so easy. Just waiting… for God to speak. Just waiting… for someone to break down my walls. Just waiting… for anyone to ask so I can tell them my truths… and lies. Just waiting. Love has made waiting bearable. It has somehow forced forgiveness into the cravesses of places I have shut off. It took a long time. That didn’t come from a praise break or a hoop and holler. It came from a conversation. Somebody coming into my darkness as a light and letting our friendship… relationship illuminate the other areas. I am evolving into this new creature. I am still in my cocoon and from the outside looking in, you might not know if there still a caterpillar, mush or a butterfly getting ready to emerge. But don’t knock the protection of my transformation with doubt or a closed mind. There is a lot of things I have to shed. Respect the woman I am becoming. Just… wait. Semicolons I have tried to put a period so many times on things that tried to define me and give me a life sentence but God insisted on placing a semicolon there. I feel God’s presence when I am with my family; the reflection I may not see but feel when life gets tough. Challenges of life don’t stop just because you get your life together. You just become better equipped to deal with it. This June 17th, Father’s Day, will mark the one year anniversary of my semicolon. I find it quite symbolic that my Father, God, would give me, His child, the gift of life. My extension. My second wind. The peace that forms when I think about the next phase I am about to embark on in my life… family. Don’t succumb to grammatical errors. Your life is worth a semicolon. Your Ampersand, Tiff

[jancynco]

You Are Mine, Said She

You Are Mine, Said She By: Tiffani Robinson Lately, I have immersed myself into words. I feel most comfortable allowing myself to be consumed by them. It is where the greatest unknown makes the most sense to me. One thing that I have picked up as a commonality in my literary divulgence is in every poet and philosopher I fancy seems to be an atheist. There is nothing wrong with individuals personal believes… But it should be noted. Why is it those who can successfully articulate the depths of their own feelings and thoughts not except that something might be greater and surpass all understanding? For me, the greatest encounters I have had the most challenging struggle to wrap my head around is death time and love. Maybe it is so hard for an intellectual to digest the logical and spiritual maybe because death is eminent, time is infinite and love is limitless. None of the things can surely be defined. What we see in visual or performing art is man’s intrinsic and desperate need to capture moments of comprehension in each of these three factors. The title of this blog is an excerpt from the poem “May I Feel, Said He” by EE Cummings. Although casually erotic, it is the very essence of human nature in its construct within a playful exchange of forbidden desires, permissions and the selfish protagonist of love, the sense of belonging. In One of the first thoughts expressed in Plato’s symposium, the idea of love is summarize into ownership and the weight of responsibility that holds. To own something is to be able to confine and restrain it. Basically, to control it. Love in all of its simple complexities has always imprisoned man’s mind since their inception. This is just me but to say that you are mine is me hopelessly and desperately confessing that I am yours. I want all of you, you want all of me. Everything I know and understand is yours and everything you know and understand, I long for. Now, this is just my philosophy about Adam and Eve but I believe God chose not to create Eve separately in the same way he created Adam because maybe Adam would not understand something that wasn’t familiar. Adam never verbally exclaimed his loneliness but his body evoked those feelings and God acknowledged his desolation with something already inside him… It just needed to be prepared for him. How would Adam have known to ask for something that never existed before? I believe by creating something for him, from him it was God’s Way of giving man the liberty and peace of knowing what love is although he might not be able to understand it fully in that form. In the scripture, it explained that Adam knew her... which is a topic for another day that you will not give from me. But! To summit all up. God is love. To love Foley is to know oneself. I’ve thought for a while that maybe if Cummings would have not been such of an unrestrained control freak, maybe his work might have reached incredible heights even further than what he was able to accomplish in his time here on earth. This is my very small spend and where I imagine this poem would have been if he had liberated himself in his beliefs... There you are, said she Here I am, said He You’ve been missed, said she I never left, said He Can I know you, said she come to me, said He I feel safe, said she I was welcomed, said He Do you want me?,said she I’ve died for you, said He I feel you close, said she Forever yours, said He love me, said she Love Me, said He You are divine, said she You are mine, said He

[jancynco]

Blind Marketing

International Pastor’s & Leadership Conference: Digital Strategies At first glance one might inquire the wealth of knowledge I might possess in reference to Digital Marketing. You see I have over ten years in the field with a few published works available and conferences I’ve held sessions at… oh! And the main point I should mention that makes my expertise on the topic a tad bit peculiar… I’m completely blind. Nonetheless, I believe this gives me an advantage among competitors and industry leaders. When I first started losing my vision in 2015 I knew the way I viewed and practiced my focus had to fit the situation that was quickly and imminently approaching. Here are the three areas I decided to focus on and how you could benefit by not thinking outside the box but operating on a level where a box is not even in your peripheral and therefore doesn’t even exist. Storytelling Words are everything to me. I am highly sensual in the matter that through my other senses I can successfully function in the world. Basically I feel my way to navigate. I noticed something very strange when I lost my sight. My spending habits changed. I became a better steward of my time and money. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the capability to act on my impulses to buy a pair of pumps or waste hours online thumbing through statuses and YouTube. My appetite had changed because I was not enticed through what I saw and therefore to captivate my attention the things colleges, blogs and “experts” would preach became null and void. They really had to work hard at moving me in an emotionally compelling way. I’m not alone. Many consumers in my generation are moving toward caused driven purchases and lifestyles. No longer can you slap a logo and think that will suffice…you have to resonate with them through storytelling. I spend a great deal of time researching storytellers and perfecting truncating content into bite size forms for various platforms. Storytelling is an art form and should be respected as such. Take time to read various genres of books as much as time permits. There is a wonderful podcast called “LeVar Burton Reads” and every show is a short story narrated by Burton himself. It is a great practice for your mind and will ultimately help you with your content in how to effectively reach your audience. The Power of 1 vs. 100 Many hiccups I notice organizations make with their content strategies lie in how their messaging is structured and not who. You can’t take a net fishing approach with your marketing. A common phrase “birds of a feather flock together” stands so true in the digital world especially now. Social powerhouses like Facebook and Instagram entire feed algorithms are based of this theory known to sociologist as “homophily.” If you alter your content to speak to one idea of a person realized, others like that subject with similar interest, activities and/or views will attract to it just as humans organically do. This requires some analyzing of your current database. Comb through who your core, emerging and wild card demographics are, summarize your findings into an idealized person for each category and make them real so your team understands how and what to do in order to turn brand watchers into advocates. Sounds crazy but make those profiles your office friends because who knows better at speaking to someone than a familiar friend. In the next blog, I will focus on Visual Listening and how it will change social media as we know it.