28 posts from May 2007

My neighbor and voxalicious friend IslandGirl, has suggested a post for me. Is she psychic? Did she know I've been fighting blogger's block for the past few weeks? Whatever the reason...IslandGirl, this one is for you.

Here are three books that changed my life:

Ask and It Is Given.
Jerry & Esther Hicks

Ask and It Is Given: Learning to Manifest Your Desires

As you might know from some earlier posts, this book sort of flung itself at me back in March. It gave me a fresh perspective about the same old shit. That just does not happen every day.  The basic law of attraction. Explained in such a simple, spiritual way...that I nearly felt like an idiot. You get what you expect. If you expect success, if you expect failure. Whatever you believe will happen, typically does. You manifest your destiny, each time you speak a true desire (or a fear). While I think there are tangible limits to this notion and it's been made popular and commercially lucrative with The Secret, I believe in this simple universal law. It was the right book, at the right time, to lend weight to something I already felt, but couldn't assign any spiritual insight to. I've been increasingly confident, aware and mindful of my thoughts ever since. Brings newfound meaning to that old adage, "be careful what you wish for."

Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry
Mildred D. Taylor

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Sister Kathy...you'll never know what you did to me, that day you began reading this to our 5th grade class. I always thought there was something odd about being read to at the age...but Sister Kathy always had a way of making the unusual...meaningful. She took the plot, the story of a African-American family in the deep South in the thirties, and made it come alive. To this day, I swear if I ever met Cassie Logan, she would have Sister Kathy's voice. Mildred D. Taylor wove an amazing story, and left me starving for more. But the book changed my life, because until then I never understood that writing in my diary was writing. I didn't get that the short stories I created out of boredom during long house-bound summers were something other than an odd hobby. I had always been a "reader." Mildred D. Taylor, Sister Kathy, Cassie Logan, and that amazing story gave me the desire to become a "writer."

 
The Souls of Black Folk
W.E.B Du Bois

The Souls of Black Folk

My Dad gave it to me as a Christmas present when I was 13. I remember unwrapping it, and pretending to be excited about it. I did love books, but this one, at first pass, seemed to have the look of a history textbook. It felt like an assignment. I read his inscription on the inside (a script that mine now almost completely resembles)...and I put the book away, promising to read it, "one day."

One day came about six years later, during a cold, rough winter when the transit system between home and school almost always promised a commute that was at least an hour. I opened that book, and was mesmerized. I recall especially the poem that prefaces chapter ten:

Walking Alone

I've been sitting here this morning, sipping coffee, trying to prepare my head for the workday and my body for a run when I received an instant message from my friend B (no, not Barry, who is a ray of sunshine albeit a grumpy ray). He checks in on me every here and there and we catch up for a bit on life. I've always been fortunate to have a nice stock of "big brothers" peering in on my life to ensure my boat is resting comfortably on a calm sea. Something else to be appreciative of in my already cool existence. Also the fortunate extension from my childhood tomboyish existence.

We got to talking about the term lonely. Without going into detail about his business (after all, he didn't sign on to be blissfully naked too), we discussed the importance of the word lonely, and the fact that some people assume loneliness to be a physical state, rather than an emotional one. Granted...I know you can be physically lonely, but I would argue that the state of loneliness runs far deeper than the physical company you keep.

I have known people over the course of my life (me included), who could have a slew of people around them, live in an environment crowded to the brim with other individuals, go out on dates five nights a week and share every waking moment in the company of someone else, and be lonely. Almost to the point of desolation.

Loneliness is not a physical state. It's an emotional condition.

It's also not some blight or curse of inferiority. Loneliness does not mean you are in some way broken. It just is. And if you're willing to sit with it for a little while, there is enlightenment, if you accept that it is only a moment in time and not your lot in life. And there's no sense running from it when you feel it. It works like that universal law, no matter where you go - there you are. Best way to work your way through it is to acknowledge that it's there...and understand why its made an appearance. Once you've done that you come up with what it is you're truly looking for. And I tend to think, once you really understand what it is you're wanting - you find it. Or...it finds you.

Not at all the course my conversation took with B...but a moment of quiet reminder for me. And perhaps for you too. Talk to you later, gators.

Tell us two truths and a lie about yourself.

Truth:
I am very intuitive, it sometimes makes me appear more intelligent and insightful then I truly would profess to be. Most times, I don't tell people what I "get" from them. 

Truth:
I am very moody and interruptions almost always irritate me. This is something I've spent much of my adult life working on, and I see no "cure" in sight.

Lie:
I am reclusive.

No. People just worry and disappoint me. So it generally takes me some "amping" to be social. When comfortable, I hear I can be a lot of fun.

Lie: (bonus)
I slept with George Clooney.

Friday Eighties rain track...

Show us your favorite pair of sneakers.
Submitted by danatmedog.

Okay I preface this by saying I had no clue about this one til I saw it on Stacy's. And like any great inspiration, I copied. (Stacy I do this with total admiration)

Da shoes

3 comments

And...a few thoughts...okay...eight thoughts. Sue me.

1. Like any marketing professional, though I know better...I am a brand whore. It's been Nike ever since I knew what sneakers were. Ask my sister, she'll tell ya. I can't do it if there's no swoosh. I know better, but it's true.

2. Top left, my running sneakers. these get replaced regularly and often, these were a bitch on the first one, but got cozy after that. Another three months they head into "yardwork retirement."

3. Top middle (and bottom middle since they're same shoe different color). My neighbor Christian refers to these as my muppet sneakers because she says my feet look like muppet feet when I wear them. I contend this is rubbish because you never SAW muppet feet, but whatever. They are light, great for tramping about long distance and they fit my general disposition. Which I suppose, is that of a muppet.

4. Top right, my "court" shoes. Because occasionally (when it's not 200 degrees) I like to indulge my inner tomboy in shooting hoops. This eventually makes me miss my brother very much and I have to stop.

5. Bottom left, my "bowler shoes." I love them..they are quiet, comfy and very underbranded in their "Nikeness."

6. Bottom right, occasionally some of my more rustic friends will suggest an outing that may require suitable coverage from spiders, snakes and God only knows what else. These handle those events. Pray they be few and far in between.

7. Yes. Those are my Fred Flintstone tootsies. SHUT IT.

8. I just realized that little area carpet is bad for people prone to vertigo. *tsk tsk* I gotta lay down now.