A Daily Dose of Freedom

What do you do when life throws a “sucker punch” that knocks the wind out of you? You smack the “ l iving taste ” out of adversity! You recalibrate. You refocus. You realign. You recharge. You renew. You refill. My “ default settings ” tend to process difficulties as hardships, rather than growth opportunities. “ Challenges ” come with discomfort, require discipline, and take lots of dedication. I hit. I miss. But I never stop “ swinging . ” Life isn’t foolproof; you know? You will NEVER be able to insulate yourself from the risks of potential mistakes.  So you might as well— dig your heels in the sand, stand in your truth, and prepare to knock “ it ” out the park! My grandson defeated the odds stacked against him. Recently, He fell behind academically but bounced back like a beast in a short length of time and got three awards to prove it! He broke through barriers. He overcame obstacles. He conquered lik...

" Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it. " - Helen Keller On my Tuesday morning drive to Raleigh, I listened to The Breakfast Club's interview with T.D. Jakes. Jakes discussed ways communities can process the " overall grief " felt amongst the tragedy of Kobe Bryant's death. Charlamagne posed a gut wrenching question that commanded the hairs on my arms to stand at full attention. He blatantly asked Jakes, " Does the righteous ALWAYS have to suffer ? " I felt that from the hollows of my belly. Jakes' response, "Everyone suffers!" " Suffering " wasn't some type of exclusive hardship permissive to a population of believers that professed Lord as the savior of their lives. Suffering didn't discriminate, regarless as to social class, status, or power. Suffering wasn't a " one and done ". I thought about my own journey, whereas " loss " ...

" You can’t win in a collapsed posture of defeat. ” —me Even though I stay in the ring like Rocky ( with my gloves on ) when it comes to my share of undeniable social injustices, there are “ human” moments where I feel “crushed” under the intense scrutiny of personal prejudices, biases, and inequalities. My back has been against the wall for years. Actually, I’ve been in the biggest “ fight of my life … Fighting for a fair chance . Fighting for an equal opportunity. Fighting for justice in an unjust world. At times, I courageously launched out into the deep against the currents of insecurities. Panicked. Then, swam back to the shore of familiar grief! “ Grief ” was my codependent, ride or die that rode shot gun when everyone else faded into the background of indifference. So in a world of pretend, I’d shake off the humiliation of calamities, wipe the grit of sorrow & put my “ game ” face back on. I wasn’t a punk either. Sink or swim,...

The clouds silently mourned blue showers when my feet halfheartedly hit the concrete floor. My unconscious apathy had a mysterious way of castrating the morning sunlight. It hurt to stay connected to the emerging rainbow’s future optimism, when the obvious pain of rejection, trampled the covenant of truth . My “ hope ” went belly up, downstream, each time my sails ended up shipwrecked on a remote island. Those failed missions left an an avalanche of sadness, without the comforts of the birds serenading me over breathtaking skies and crystal clear living waters. Instead, my clogged drain left a swampy pit of fruit flies that draped my potential, devoured my possibilities, and drowned my passion. My flesh burned in silence. There wasn’t any traces of beauty dancing on the notes of these ashes. Life had exposed my fears. Love had promised to stay. Loss had prevailed in the crevices of uncertainty.             ...

Whoever said grief gets “easier” with time, just flat out lied. When I opened my eyes at dawn, I forced them back shut. Maybe extended “sleep” would prolong the inevitable mountain of evidence that proved: the cement of grief still lingers after losing you. the absence of your face sitting across the table for our traditional lunch date. the way your wisdom encouraged discipline, summoned conviction, but was always received in love. Now, all that remains after those ashes of memories is the black coals of burning tears, which feels like some sort of consolation prize that doesn’t appease this jaded heart. My overwhelming tears seek refuge in the glorious fountain of your eternal crown, but my flesh mourns the unfilled vacancy that can never be replaced. My heart skips. My head aches. My hand shakes. How can the predictability of life’s unavoidable circumstances leave such an unpredictable reservoir of sadness behind?  I hope that you find co...

I used to breathe in toxic fumes of pollution that turned vapors of hope into smoke screens of despair on the regular. I allowed others to hand me their broken, blue crayons to paint my sunshine of reality. Each shade of blue created an unexplainable urgency for freedom, but the bittersweet tonic of opinions forced its way down my throat till my insides burned. The voices emptied my womb and suffocated my space. Fibroid tumors oozed with air pockets of doubt that stifled my perplexed creativity. Routine. Repetition. Regular vexes my spirit. Why can't we walk on the moon of our own thoughts without judgement? Why can't we dance in the rain without umbrellas of scrutiny? Why can't we skinny dip in the Osun River without being swallowed up by a tsunami of gossip? NEWS FLASH: We can. We should. Color outside the lines of limitations. To break up the monotony in our little animated space, I always try to create spontaneous mental exercises for my grands...

In a fickle world of chaos, clutter, and condemnation, I spend more time than I should unraveling from yokes of confinement. I am a creative. A quiet storm. A free spirit I don't care to be censored by critics; so more often than not, I wrap myself in a complicated cocoon of inner thoughts. On some days, those frequencies land me into an electric space of "crip walking" on the moon. Other days, my sensitive spirit seeks solace under the bridges of darkness. Away from toxic traces of world elements of contamination that seek to destroy my purpose and annihilate my individuality. Since I don't subscribe to many popular societal norms, "living on Venus" can be a little disheartening. I mean...On this calendar year, I set bigger intentions than ever before. I desperately needed to walk into some new flower beds and smell the roses come alive and penetrate my obstructed senses. I was plum tired of the "bull crap" sprinkled around my steps. ...

"If you don't dig up the root...anything you cut down, will grow back." --me You can drink the tea to shrink the belly fat. You can contour the nose to appear thinner. You can invest in shapewear to accentuate the curves. You can create a fairytale to mask reality. You can run, but you can't hide. Until you do the "root work," you will continue to sway in swampy waters. Yesterday, I jokingly told my mom that I was having a "midlife crisis!" After her initial shock, she hesitated and awkwardly laughed it off. My side eye proved there was a hint of transparency in this blanket statement, but I assumed that she wouldn't get the authentic version, so I watered down. I took her down the narrow path of excuses, drove by the riverbed of doubt, and parked by the embankment of indecision. In the middle of my sorrows, I immediately drowned out the pity and started applying pressure to the "temporary chokehold" by rowing upst...

We think it’s the job. We think it’s the car. We think it’s the house. We think it’s the kids. We think it’s the spouse. We attempt to rationalize the irrational. The illusion is persuasive, but harsh reality alters our attention away from the blessings and into the fog of: The lack. The missing. The voids. The empty. The cracks. The vacancies never become occupancies in the mental utopian communities we create. The exploits never become tangible accolades once "the next thing" claims our attention. The shattered ceilings never become red carpet realities in comparison to our pretentious peers. Conquer one giant, there’s a million more to slay! Life's kinetic way of testing our RESOLVE! Life caught me by the coattail in December, I had finessed my mission-field like a boss crushing goals. Humbled but feeling like the matrix after a decade of L's. I had pulled up the weeds, pushed the wagon (uphill), plowed the fields, and po...