You are a Freakin’ Idealist!

He pointed his finger and with disgust with the words rolling from his lips as he said, “The problem with you is that you are an idealist, a freakin’ idealist!”

A respected music journalist, he hurled the accusation at me.  For some reason it landed as an insult as one of the other men on the panel agreed with him. They laughed and high fived. I remember sitting there on a panel at a Hip Hop conference in Denver not knowing whether or not I was supposed to feel small. Was he questioning my intelligence? Was I wrong for being the way that I am?

Of course, I am witty and have eight years of competitive speaking under my belt so I later came back with the appropriate intellectual jab.  I caught him with his own words, but the sting stayed with me for years.

For two decades my idealism has been soaked, stewed and dipped in Hip Hop. At times it has made for an appetizing, soul feeding experience. Then there were other times where it left me feeling starved.  Even I questioned my ideas and choices. Why did I love this thing that way too often didn’t seem to love me back?

Toni Spittin’ & Speaking in Kang, Botswana

There are still many who hear the words Hip Hop and the only thing that comes to mind is the latest “it” rapper or pop rap song but for those of us steeped in the culture it means so much more. This poem I wrote after hearing Kalamu ya Salaam’s poem, “The Blues is Not” inspired the piece below which best explains my perspective.

tagging your heart not walls

 hip hop is not music

it is not dance

it is not djing or writing

it is not rhyming

no voice is needed

hip hop is not beats

it is not the

boom bap, the boom-boom bap

but the way the

boom bap

feels when it vibrates through

ooh

hip hop is not song

nor is it singing

or even speaking

it is not windmills

it is not 12-inch vinyls

or 16-ounce cans of krylon paint

it is tagging

your heart

not walls

it is feeling

it is not hard core

or soft

it is not old school

or new

it is not east, west

or even worldwide

it is within

My idealism keeps bringing me back to the center of who I am and as the years go by I get to know myself even better.  The one thing that I’ve done regardless of circumstances is host and lead ciphers and cipher workshops via Freestyle Union Cipher Workshop and Rhyme like a Girl, both projects I created because I believe in the power of the spoken word, storytelling and rap as an oral tradition. I am just as passionate about the potential of using freestyle (improvisational) rap to promote social responsibility, critical thinking skills, creativity and confidence as I was when I first began in the 90s.

Some outgrow their ideals and some get stuck in them, while others attach to new ones. I am refining mine as I expand and update my vision. I no longer feel insulted by the term and I’ve discovered that I have enough “realist” running through my veins to keep me grounded. It feels good to be grown.  I now love myself as much as I love Hip Hop and have no shame in in being me.

Signed,

Toni Blackman

An Unapologetic Idealist

Click here to support Toni’s work:  http://www.gofundme.com/6mwrcg

Can Hot Cocoa & Pancakes Help Me Process Amiri Baraka’s Passing

Immediately after hearing the news of Amiri Baraka’s passing, I made hot chocolate under the guise of sharing it with my mentee who was here working with me.  The kitchen counter was full of vegetables that I pulled out to juice but I  instead chose to make hot chocolate.  As the almond milk warmed and I put the unsweetened cocoa powder into the mugs, I noticed how I was feeling.  I recently met with Dr. Akilah, a naturopath and energy healer out of Atlanta, and ever since I’ve been really present to how I am feeling and how that impacts my behavior and choices. The hot cocoa was a reach for comfort. I have not made hot chocolate in 3 years. I avoid sweet drinks at home opting for either a water mixture, fresh juice or medicinal tea.

Earlier in the day –after the police stopped me a block from home for not having my seatbelt on and gave me a ticket–I ate cassava, callaloo and saltfish–comfort food. I’ve also eaten popcorn—something else I don’t do often but it reminds me of Auntie Jennifer’s house. She absolutely loved eating popcorn.  My mind was uplifted for a while but came right back  to reality. Sigh. I had gotten over the unexpected expense of tickets, I got one yesterday as well, and the needed car inspection, but reading about Amiri Baraka’s death left me shook.  One of my brothers in poetry, Brian Gilmore, who was a huge influence on my development as an artist in my early to mid-twenties, posted that he was going to make cornbread to get his mind off things. Now, I am sitting here wondering what else I can make, but will make my vegetable juice to stay in solidarity with my health plan. I didn’t eat enough callaloo to make the nutrients count.

Then I tried  to sit with google chromebook on Facebook, LIKING each of the status posts about Amiri’s passing.  However, there were too many in my newsfeed and it didn’t feel like I was honoring his life, but passing the time because I did not know what to do with this grief.

Where do we place this grief? Tell me where to put it.  There is no container for it.  The past few months began with a grief moment every other week but since early December the pace has quickened to a weekly grieving schedule. Tuesdays are my studio day, Saturdays I go to hot yoga community class at Sacred Brooklyn, and there has been at least one day that involved grieving for someone lost. I don’t know if loss is the appropriate word to use here.  Perhaps that is the issue, I need to re-language death, identify new ‘descriptives’ since it is becoming so ever-present within my immediate circles.

The issue might be that our entire culture needs not only new words to talk about death, but a new way to look at it and honor it. It is after all, inevitable. I guess that’s not the point of this post though. It’s really just me thinking out loud as I search for a way to process what seems to be frequent death announcements spanning across generations. I’m sure I’ll wake in the morning thinking of gluten-free pancakes and baked sweet potatoes. Cousin Carla says at least you don’t crave Jack Daniels or cigarettes but I would love to be able to move through grief in stillness, without using anything outside of myself to assuage the pain.

Amiri Baraka’s passing reminds me of my mama’s book shelf when I was a little girl, it reminds me of my Auntie Bennye and Uncle Keith’s record collection and Auntie Jennifer’s love of Black poetry. As a girl growing up in a working class town where baseball, church and eating good food were often the only creative activities, I longed for something that spoke to my artistic soul. Music and poetry were my first loves.  Arriving at Howard University’s campus pre-DC gentrification was like a “Toni in Afro-Wonderland” film. Over the years, I not only met the people from those books and albums, but worked with many of them, sat on panels next to them and even got checked by a few.  Tonight before sleeping I will say a prayer for E. Etherlbert Miller, my literary father and poetic mentor to countless others.  Baraka’s passing reminds me of the hours he spent feeding and nurturing my creative hunger and love of poetry.

Well, I guess I will make that vegetable juice.  Everything is already cleaned and prepped. Hoping I can channel this energy into memorizing the words for next week’s performance with pianist Onaje Allan Gumbs at Brooklyn Academy of Music. We will perform with Abiodun of the Last Poets, another one of the greats who has reached elder status. Perhaps that’s part of the exercise–transforming grief into art, making the ugly beautiful, focusing sadness into an experience that will uplift and impact the lives of others? Who knows? If I drank liquor I would pour some out, but I’ll do me and raise my glass of green juice while reciting Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note. Yep, poets do things like that.

Sending love and light to the Baraka family, hugs to my Howard University family and to my poetry family around the world—it’s Nation Time.

Ase.

Learning to Speak Grow(n)

Like a toddler waddling the room reaching in the air for the right words, I find myself humbled by recent life experiences.  Each growth moment has demanded that I –umm—grow. The expansion has required a fierce commitment to transformation not only of myself but of each and every one of my relationships. This is giving new meaning to the phrase grown and sexy. 

I am not learning to speak French or Wolof so there is no Rosetta Stone to help me through this phase.  I am not learning to speak in public so a speech coach won’t do.   I have, however, benefited greatly from a circle of spiritual teachers.  Some of them trained practitioners while others are friends who have taken time to listen my story and share an experience or an insight.

Over the past 10 days I’ve had four conversations that in previous years would’ve been categorized as awkward, tense and would have fallen into the column of not happening.  Learning how to speak, to honor what’s most present for me without worrying about the outcome has been liberating.  It’s less like a toddler streaking around the house naked and more like a grown woman standing without clothes on, in front of a mirror appreciating and celebrating her own body with each of its imperfections.

As I vented and processed with two different girlfriends I realized the way these women cosigned my pressing the mute button on my own voice.  It’s what many girls are socialized to do. We’re taught to be quiet, to not rock the boat and that the truth is not nice. It’s also way too easy to succumb to playing the victim. Meanwhile my male friend insisted that I needed to speak up and out and directly to these people in my life who were out of integrity.  I also needed to give voice to new boundaries.  He challenged me to do this as a way to de-clutter and detox my mind.  In two instances I initiated communication by picking up the phone, and in two others divine order created the perfect ‘random’ meetings.

What’s the payoff of my  staying silent? I wouldn’t have to go through the growing pains and I could sit with the familiar, but I’ve found that the reward for walking through the difficulty is that I get the satisfaction that comes with honoring both my voice and my vision.  The uncertainty of how it will unfold is part of the adventure.  Sometimes moments like these are indicators that a relationship has come to an end, but in this case it wasn’t about endings.  I’ve preserved  relationships with people I care about, who love and care for me deeply and who are sharing the journey with me for purposes much greater than ourselves.

Indeed there are definitely times when it’s better to let things work themselves out and not give energy to them, but discernment is key.  Our gut will tell us the difference. I am finding that the more often I exercise these muscles of learning to speak, the more grown I feel.  I’m not sure if sexy is the word to describe my elation, but damn I’m feeling good inside my own skin.

Texting Tips— Because Communication is Everything

Last night one of my little sisters sent multiple text messages and in one asked, “How ya’ been?”   I responded to other messages but not to that one.  She then texted me again to ask why.  Now, there are two types of messages that I put in my pet peeves category:

1) Hi.  Hey! What’s up? Yo’!

Please don’t just send me a two letter text. If you are thinking about me then say so.  If you miss me and my wonderful presence then share that. If you would like to talk soon then tell me; and

2)How are you?

Asking how I am doing via text unless it’s specifically related to an experience I am going through often feels like we are going through the motions of yet another social ritual that has little to do with expressing authentic care for another person.  Some think of it as a polite courtesy. I think of it as a waste of my energy.  Why not just wish the person well or send them blessings?

Then there’s the pressure of my right-brain, free-spirit condensing my response to fit inside a text messages. On some days that feels like prison to me.  My mom think it’s quirky, my cousin says I’m “special” and my ex- says it’s just plain weird.  Call it whatever you want, but if you want to know how I am doing either call me or send an email and be prepared for an authentic response.

These scenarios got me to thinking about text etiquette, manners and what makes sense nowadays.  I know I am not the typical communicator and one might even say my expectations are too high, but I wanted to share them nonetheless.  I’m sure there are few of you that might be pondering the same things. So here goes a few more text topics when it comes to etiquette:

• It’s important to know when to text versus when to email or when to call. If you find yourself writing more than a few messages and each one is long, then you should probably go to email.  If the subject matter is dealing with an emotional issue or concern and you really want a reply, put your big girl pants on and call.

• If you are seeking a response within a certain time frame then you should probably call the other person and if it is urgent, state that in the text and let the person know you will call shortly if you don’t hear back.

• Do not send a text at 4 in the morning, 5 in the morning or even 6 am. Unless we are meeting each other for an early breakfast meeting and you need to cancel or you were supposed to meet me at the airport 10 minutes ago, it’s just not appropriate. Send an email or wait until calling hours.

• Don’t initiate a text dialogue if you do not have time to reply.

• Remember that you don’t know when a person will read or receive your message.  You have no right to be offended if the reply takes a while.  Sometimes messages don’t go through.  Sometimes messages come while a person is driving or walking in 10 degree weather. Sometimes the person you texted is busy-cooking, cleaning, changing a diaper...

• If I just sent you a text message with facts or to ask a quick question, that text is not a request for you to call me right this moment. Do not assume that the sender is available to talk to you or wants to talk to you and have a full conversation. The exception might be that you are walking or driving and need to relay the info verbally.

• If we haven’t talked in a while sign your name at the end of your message. People change phones, phones get stolen, phones crash. Don’t make up stories about your number being deleted and your being de-friended. (Yes, this has happened with my grown-up friends. Bless their hearts.)

• Avoid texting sad news.  I remember being backstage putting on lip gloss and preparing to head to the podium to speak when my mom sent a text about my favorite great aunt’s death.  Bless her heart.  She wanted me to know, but it would have been better to find out after my speech.

• Unless you are in a long, boring meeting where you cannot talk or on the Quiet Car on Amtrak, please don’t expect a 30 minute text conversation.  I have a friend who has a text limit. He says that if he receives more than 4 text messages you need to call him because ‘ain’t nobody got time for that’. Texting requires attention, time, energy and focus.

• If we are in person and I am talking to you, please do not text on your phone without acknowledging that I was just talking to you.  Have the courtesy to excuse yourself from the conversation or don’t be surprised if I step away.

• Oh, and those annoying holiday texts and holiday group messages! Last month an old friend wondered why I had not responded to her Happy Thanksgiving message.  She and I haven’t socialized in so long that she forgot that her friend is a truth-seeking, non-traditionalist who has never gone along with the crowd.     

First, I don’t believe that generic “Happy ___________” or “Merry ____________” messages deserve a reply. There’s no effort in that kind of sharing. Tell me what you are thankful for, give me something that I can feel.

Then second, I get a lot of text messages on the big holidays and don’t care to expend energy typing replies. It’s my phone and my time, I can do with it what I please.

Finally, I don’t know about you, but I find the roots of this holiday to be quite disturbing.  I have yet to reconcile the history of feasting to celebrate the shedding of Native American blood. I do however, love that in our culture of individualism that there is a day set aside to focus on gratitude, but I am still seeking peace around this particular holiday.  

I know, I know most people mean well, but kindness and good intention don’t trump basic manners, consideration and common sense. Be mindful, be thoughtful and text with care.

Get Your Speech On

For years I compartmentalized my work, separating the communication coaching from the Hip Hop ciphers from the women’s workshops and healing work from the poetry but now I see the common thread. The fabric of my life’s work is weaved together so perfectly that it must be destiny.  It must be what some call divine order because I never could have made these connections on my own.

With the help of Ije Ude of Soulpowered Coaching, a business coach that guides her clients based on the principles of human design, I launched an online coaching service to create another revenue stream.  When she shared the idea she had come up with for me I wasn’t feeling the same excitement as she was but I knew there was something to it so I listened. Initially I thought my resistance was around offering an “online service” because I was so unfamiliar.  Then I told myself that I don’t really do communication anymore but what a difference a year makes.

A year later I found myself sharing techniques I learned 20 years ago as a young speech team competitor. I was also tapping into training from my first position as a professional media trainer and incorporating my theater and performance background. One day I was leading a cipher workshop at a Hip Hop conference and it occurred to me that this was no longer just a Hip Hop workshop but the session was indeed about communication and self expression, theater and performance, but to my surprise it was also about empowerment, healing and honoring one’s authentic voice. The healing and spiritual work I had done was also seeping into my facilitation.  Whether it was a group of emcees (rappers) and poets or teachers or business professionals and non-profit organizers. It was a moment of realization.  My life’s work had synchronized itself and I was flowing in more ways than one.

I started with a focus online and after becoming really comfortable with my Google Hangout Video sessions realized that 50% of my clients preferred in-person coaching. Ironically, it took me a minute to adjust to having so many face-to-face encounters.  I laugh at myself when I think back to my initial discomfort with coaching in cyberspace.

What has been most powerful about my communication coaching business is discovering the spiritual aspects of helping a client go from point A to point B with whatever it is they are trying to convey. One client I met at a retreat and when she came to me she was in a very dark space.  She had a lot going on in her life and there was a month break in our work.  When she returned, her energy had shifted and she had some amazing inner-growth moments during the break. I felt drained after our first session but there I was feeling uplifted and fed and inspired to give her my all during our second.  The process of exploring what it is she really wanted to say to the world shook things up and sparked her inner-light.

The Fastgirls, a project that connects women to participate in 40 to 90 day challenges that inspire emotional and physical wellness, as well as, professional and personal development, allowed me to speak to the participants in their current “challenge”. I’ve been working one-on-one as well as with small groups where both the individual and collective energy creates a container for so much beauty and healing.  Working with Fastgirls provided me with the space to hone my skills as a guide to tranformation-communication and self-expression —because what I do now is more than a public speaking coach.

I have clients working on signature talks, elevator speeches, sales pitches and marketing videos. My clients are both male and female, but I seem to be specializing in women this season. They are entrepreneurs, social do gooders, educators, and artists, as well as, lawyers, MBA types, life coaches and health practitioners. I am excited to offer my Winter Special to the world.  I say “world” because we can work online or in-person so it doesn’t matter where you are. Do you have a talk you have been thinking about formulating? Is there something you want to express? Are you a business owner who could use a little support in sharing what you offer? Contact me to schedule a free consultation at TrueYouProgram@gmail.com or 415.813.2898.

Fears Be Gone (in honor of International Day of the Girl)

The worst mind games are the ones we play with ourselves. We stick post-it notes to our own foreheads as reminders of what worries us just so we don’t forget to focus on those fears. Before we know it our subconscious mind is programmed and like puppets we dance to songs of fear whether those fears are rational or not. Eventually the music in our head gets so loud we have to make a choice:  succumb to it and believe what we’ve been telling ourselves or confront it head on and fight until we can turn the volume down.

The UN has declared this Friday October 11th International Day of the Girl. It’s also the day of the biggest performance I’ve done since my April show at the Apollo Music Cafe. The only thing I’ve done more consistently than teaching workshops is perform. Poetry, dance, music, theater–I have always performed. Every possible distraction that could exist has come up. The guys in my inner-circle say that it just means it’s going to be a damn good show.  I am adopting their perspective but still wanting to meditate on letting go of any negative energy I may be carrying. What is in my way?

Last week the answer to my question came.  I finally admitted that I am in my own way. What is it that makes us humans so uncomfortable with being our best? Why do we resist shining our brightest light? Why do we not give 100% of ourselves to the very thing that we say we want? I have performed thousands of times, where are these fears coming from?

Last year I had a performance where I made a major mistake in a song.  It was the kind of mistake where you find out who your friends are. When I worked with my coach, he walked me through an exercise to demonstrate that my mistake was based on my not warming up. Simple enough but self-forgiveness has still been a journey. I am absolutely comfortable freestyling in front of thousands of people yet the fear of singing until now– persists.

I know it is tied to letting go of the good opinions of others. The fear of not being perfect can be self-destructive.  Atelophobia is the scientific term for the fear of not being good enough. Our fear may not be at the level of an anxiety disorder, but not only do many artists have it but people in general carry these feelings of unreality and extreme disappointment when we fail at something.  It’s ironic because I work professionally as a communication coach, an area where I know I am a master teacher. I coach my clients to let go of the very fears I am dealing with in another realm. I can see their potential greatness and massage their resistance. In my freestyle rap and improv poetry workshops I coach artists to make mistakes material and to embrace their imperfections. Getting over these things is critical to our personal development and to reaching many of our goals.

I am a performer, I am a speaker, I am a presenter, I am a conveyor of messages and music and I have been groomed for this very moment in my life. I rap, I sing, I speak the spoken word. I am a writer with stories to tell and feelings to share. There are insights that are unique to me, that were meant to come through me. I am not my mistakes nor am I my fears. I remind my mind that I am in charge. I control the tapes that play in my head.  I am whole, healthy and in complete harmony with myself, my gifts and the universe. God rocks mics through me so every time I perform I get open, I do my best, I honor my gifts.

I plan to play a new kind of game with my mind this week.  It’s the least I can do to honor the girl within and all of the girls watching. My drummer has assembled a tight band that can support what it is that I do and my girls Yolanda Zama and Gabriella Callendar will bring both their love and musical genius to the stage.  The show must indeed go on…

Letting Friends Go: Acceptance

I have a friend who uninterested in my email updates and most of my good news insisted we talk. I had not talked to her in a very long time because she is in a different country and timezone and it was hard to connect, but once the call began I remembered the real reason why we hadn’t spoken. She brushes off much of my good news with “a yeah, yeah, yeah but you have an exciting life and there’s always a new adventure on Planet Toni”.

As I’ve deepened my spiritual relationship with myself I’ve become much more sensitive and attuned to the behaviors, feelings, attitudes and intentions of others. Sometimes I hate it but when I am grounded, I can read energy like an old medicine woman living on the mountaintop. I am still bouncing in and out of that space and some days the only ground underneath my feet feels 4 feet away. Like a kid in a candy store, my life still makes me high as a kite way too often. I have, however, healed enough to know what love feels like, and in the context of love, the people you have relationships with –support, encourage, honor, celebrate and accept you.  They don’t judge, play mental games or put you down and they definitely don’t brush away your joy like it’s lint on clothing.

Now, sometimes a friend can significantly reduce their interaction with you but then one day you wake up and realize it was something you were secretly desiring anyway. Instead of feeling bad about it, move towards acceptance.  As I move closer to acceptance of what is and learn to accept people for where they are on their journeys instead of me trying to convince them to be somewhere else, life becomes easier.  Sometimes their absence is simply a gift of abundance—more time and more room for me to focus on myself and my own healing. I am well and getting better everyday.

I am at peace this morning as I release those friendships that are no longer in my best interest. I am at peace with those relationships that need space and in acceptance that we may reconnect again later in life. I am at peace with those I need to love from afar. I am meditating on compassion this morning for we never really know why people behave the way they do. We humans can be really good at stuffing emotions and hiding our suffering.  People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I am at peace with whatever is to be. It is what it is. And so it is. Ase.

 

Saturday Night: How About That Verdict?

Last night while driving home after hanging with the Haitian massive in Queens–well, not really, I met my friend Samantha to check out a band, but 98% of the people there were from Haiti so we were kinda’ hanging with them. Anyway, I was incredibly late because the verdict left me stunned. I sat on the edge of my bed unable to move. The most I could do was post one word comments on Facebook statuses. I wrote things like “wow” and “sigh”. I “liked” the expletives of others and cried at the photos of Trayvon and his parents. I wondered how my sweetheart was feeling. I thought about my nephews, my cousins, my brothers and friends from college. I worried about the well-being of my youngins’ (i.e. male mentees and former students). The phrase “open season” kept coming up and left me filled with anxiety so I rushed to shower and dress.

Somehow, I  was able to escape for a few hours.  The band took almost three hours to start playing but the DJ spinning zouk, as well as a few songs from Trinidad, kept the vibe warm. The band’s producer felt bad about our wait so he sent over a bottle of red wine. As Samantha poured our glasses I realized this was my first “drink” all year.  I wanted another but was driving and afraid of how it might affect my super sensitive self. I get tipsy really quick, but I had just enough to relax. Relaxation was in order. We sat in the VIP section catching up on our personal and professional lives.  Inside the silent moments I found myself wishing I could share this moment, albeit brief, with numerous people in my life. The music, the lights, the wine and the people dancing somehow made things feel ok in the world. That delusional thought was squashed when I saw Bryce, a hip-hop producer with Haitian roots, walking towards us and his first question? *insert drum roll* How about that verdict?

Well, everyone’s talking about how we will remember where we were when the verdict was announced. A friend told me she will never forget holding her breath and staring at her daughter and her God son. Another friend was in a hotel room with her sorority sisters and one of my ‘brothers’ admitted it was the first time he has cried in a very long time. I’m still tearing up. Hoping I will have an answer to Bryce’s question soon, but not rushing. I want to be clear, really clear.

Lauryn Hill and the Universe

A few of my ‘music critic’ friends inboxed me this tune on some “what chya’ think?” business. They know I am both hip-hop head and a fan of Lauryn’s heart and lyricism.  I didn’t reply to the emails because I think not.

I am in a space where I believe that what I think or what anyone else thinks should not matter. What matters is that L-Boogie is in creation and release mode. The world doesn’t just miss her, but people miss authentic passion, we miss artistic voices that are in alignment with their own hearts and not just their pocketbooks, we miss that fine line that true artists walk when the core of one’s creativity looks like “crazy” to “civilians” (i.e. non-artists) but to those truly in the artistic zone– it’s just processing, it’s re-centering.

When one’s purpose has been so clearly outlined and defined the universe will not allow he or she to stray to far from it. Resistance is futile. True artists either create or they shrivel up and die. Death doesn’t necessarily mean being six feet under.   It also includes the soulless and the walking dead. Plenty of the zombies we see during rush hour have “that thing” and gifts that could inspire the world but for some reason are not sharing them in this lifetime.

What do I think? I think that divine order is at work. I think that the universe has left her no option but to create and release. We’ve all been in that space where God put a foot in your ass–when you waited too long to leave a relationship or didn’t move when intuition told you to.  It’s amazing how life will create circumstances that force us out of our self-imposed funks.  Lauryn’s energy has so little to do with Lauryn right now. My only prayer is that she remembers the big picture and she crosses these sands of fire victoriously. We are all connected and the energy that we put out impacts all those around us. It resonates. Because of her connection to millions of people around the world, I imagine that with even the slightest amount of focus and a willingness to stay on a higher vibration these new Lauryn releases have the potential to impact the stagnation and ‘stank’ that are plaguing hip-hop music and culture.

Just let the music play…

Lauryn Hill Neurotic Society Compulsory Mix

Listening to the Silence of the Storm

Listening to the Silence of the Storm

With the wind blowing, snow falling and the windows sweating as if they were in a Bikram yoga class, I wanted nothing more than to see the moon above. If my timbs weren’t in the back of a cluttered closet I probably would’ve stepped outside.  Instead, I sat with my dinner and pressed play on the last episode of Scandal. An hour later I was back to my reality so I washed dishes and crawled underneath the sheets. I contemplated watching another episode, but turned off my computer and picked up a book. Sleep came sooner than expected. I surrendered and ventured off to la-la land.

Adrea, my dear friend and big sister, was in my dreams. Unlike when she was alive she seemed very happy. I don’t remember many dreams, but every once in a while details will stay in my head. I haven’t figured out the symbolism of this dream. Music was playing, she was dancing and seemed to be reminding me to have fun.  Ironically, during the last years of her life, she was addicted to suffering and had an aversion to joy.  Maybe that was the message of my dream? Let go of suffering, embrace joy.

It is the morning of snow storm Nemo. The ground, the rooftops, and the cars are all covered with the glorious white stuff.  It is also Day 6 of my cleanse. However, it has been less of a cleanse and more of highly disciplined meal plan where I am mostly consuming living foods, juices and smoothies. This is the lifestyle change I want to make.

Both storms and cleanses bring me clarity. I woke a little after 7am realizing I had slept through the night. Exhaling, I lit a white candle, burned Sudanese coconut oil and boiled water for my morning regimen. Sitting here in the quiet, sipping my first concoction of the day, I am allowing thoughts and insights to come.  I am thinking of the people in my life right now and how different my life is from a year ago. Everyone close to me is value-added, amazing, loving and kind. I even get the sense that the one’s I am not in touch with are somewhere growing, healing and becoming better people. I made a forgiveness list a couple of weeks ago and it was so incredibly short that I had to double-check it a few times. My emotional baggage is lighter and so am I.

There are over 400,000 people without power in Massachusetts this morning and 10,000 right here in Long Island, NY. I am grateful for the warmth my home is providing while praying that the folks are safe.  Storms can bring us the silence we need to hear. I hear the messages from my dream and I can hear my own thoughts this morning.  The stillness is reminding me of my priorities and of what I need to be grateful for.  While the snow accumulates, I am becoming clearer about what I need to release.  The melting of this snow will be symbolic for me, as the ice melts into the earth I will let go. I am letting go of bad habits, I am letting go of worries and fears, I am letting go foods that don’t serve my health, I am letting go of insecurities and I am stepping into love—loving myself more deeply, loving others more passionately, walking love, breathing love, being love. I am inhaling joy. Thank you Adrea…for the reminder.