Stories From Reflection: She Hurts Like Brand New Shoes February 4, 2010

Standing in the middle of a damp winters night,

Her mind was in chaos.
Her heart in shambles.

A year ago she seemed on top of the world.
in control of her destiny.

She didn’t know where she was going,
but she was relieved that she was finally in control of making that decision.

Externally, she exuded confidence,
giving into this perception that she could handle anything and everything.

Internally, pain had overcome her.
She did not know happiness.
She could not feel….anything.

She yearned so much for a normal life..so much that her tears fell on the inside
in the darkest moments…moments when the lights were turned off, her eyes closed,
while her mind patiently waited on the world to change.

So much conflict for one person.
and yet…she knew that “it” was only a word.

One night… as she lay with her mind open to the world,
she had a moment….a silent moment.

She took  a deep breathe.
She closed her eyes.
She smiled.

It was then..at that moment…at that time
that she gave herself to the world.

She wanted to start over….with patience
understanding
faith
support
love
great people surrounding her
and most of all…patience

She closed her eyes once again….

Days later….
Months later…
Years later…

There she stood once again on a damp winters night….

She had finally learned to live as if she were a human being who mattered.
She woke up every morning smiling to herself…counting every single blessing…
thanking herself for being patient while wanting something
something more,
something greater,
something that gives us this feeling
that we are
who we are…..

because we want the best that life has to offer.

There is a woman in Somalia
Scraping for pearls by the roadside
There is a force stronger than nature
Keeps her will alive

That is how she lives her life
She is dying to survive
I don’t know what she’s made of
But I would like to be that brain

She cries to the heavens above
There’s a stone in my heart
She lives a life she didn’t choose
And it hurts like brand new shoes

(India.Arie–Pearls)

Reflection in the 24th Century: Who Am I? January 19, 2010

I am selfless by default.
I know that sometimes it can be a bit of a sacrifice but if not me…
who else can inspire others..to inspire others…to inspire others….to realize. to see… to know.
that they have the ability to be something..to do something.. to want something..something better.

I don’t aspire to be a politician or anyone who runs for public office.
I believe that you cannot have faith in people to make decisions for you.
The same decisions that you should make for yourself .

I am do gooder by heart.
I see the power, talent, and the good of people.
I realize the potential of any human being who is capable of doing something great for society.

I don’t believe that life should centered and focused around your salary
probably because my friends who make lots of money
hate their jobs.

I believe in passion.
I believe that in anything and everything I do
I have to have the passion to not just want to take it on, but to also know that at the end of the day, I did something that meant something.

I enjoy listening to people.
Their stories.
Their frustrations.
Their anxieties when dealing with what we call reality.
We are all challenged yet inspired but someone else’s life…whether we realize it or not

I didn’t have a normal childhood.
There was abuse.
Sometimes there was neglect.
Never was there understanding that it was not my fault.
My childhood served as a vessel that allowed me to become the man I am today.
Today I am a human being who matters. I am not the child who sat alone trying to understand.

I get mad.
I cry sometimes.
I get frustrated as well.
I know that each of these feelings brings on some sign that life is not taking me where I should be.
So I stop.
I self reflect.
I refocus…and I move on… to live another day.

My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry;
to get my work done and try to love everybody and
have the courage to accept the love in return.
(Maya Angelou)

Reflection in the 24th Century: My Decade of Birthdays January 1, 2010

When I turned 18, I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said… “Eh, I’m an adult now.”

When I turned 19, my best friends bought me a birthday cake shaped out of a penis.
There is nothing thought provoking except that it stands out as the most profound
and funny birthday present I ever received.

When I turned 20, I was happy because everyone else was happy.
Hell, I even got my dad to buy my alcohol for my birthday party.

When I turned 21… I hadn’t learned a damn thing.
I took some time out of school and moved to Seattle…of all places.
At first I couldn’t stand the city and people… I mean who smiles and says high to random strangers?

When I turned 22, I made a big deal about it and not in a good way.
I didn’t like the attention being focused on me
but my roommates at the time made sure I felt otherwise and the result
was one of the most random birthday parties a kid like me could ever have.
There was a dance off with another apartment complex through windows
Which of course we won after one of my roommates decided to start wagging a dildo
At the other apartment….

When I turned 23, I got a pack of twizzlers, and an Ebony magazine for my birthday.

When I turned 24, I was at a quiet transition in my life. I didn’t know where I was going
But I knew that I was going somewhere and that change was imminent.

When I turned 25, I decided to spend my birthday afternoon at a Rock Bottom Happy Hour.
I was good and solid until a certain roommate decided to feed me shots of Patron.

When I turned 26, my night was spent in Adams Morgan, Jumbo Slice, and losing an article of clothing
while trying to be the next back up dancer for Janet Jackson.

Chief Ikes’ lost and found probably has some of my best looking sweaters.
When I turned 27, I secretly thanked myself for getting me this far.
I took in a sigh of relief…for what reason I have no idea.
If someone would have asked me that in 2009, my life would have changed in a way
in which all the world was truly a stage and everyone else…

So why remember just the actual birthdays?

When I turn 28 next month, I will have a silent conversation with myself.
My hope is to spend my birthday reflecting.
Remembering that ten years ago, I was an 18 year old with the passion to save the world,
And yet all I had was passion.

• I will remember those late night walks my freshman year.
• I will remember crying….like I had just won an Oscar on my rooftop in Seattle.
• I will remember sitting on the docks of the Chesapeake Bay.
• I will remember everything and anything that allowed me to learn one of life’s greatest lessons.

Life should never be about survival.

Being happy is sometimes a sacrifice.
There are times when you just have to let go.
Letting go of the things you cannot control.
Letting go of the past because you simply want to live.
Letting go of the mistakes you have made while realizing that you would not be where you are if they had not occurred in the first place.

In less than 45 minutes, I will usher in a new year.
While others confess their hopes and dreams as they do every year
I sit in silence.
For the first time I will not plan ahead and will not worry.

I will simply live.

There are only two ways to live your life.

One is as though nothing is a miracle.

The other is as though everything is a miracle.

To Be of Use: Marge Piercy December 7, 2009

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person cries for work that is real.