"Unfinished Music"
I move and I move, here, there, everywhere…. My heart finds no rhythm quite the same. My feet shift to and fro, my body writhes in an undecipherable melody. Harmony has no place in this world of mines.. Notes scatter to the floor and I scurry to pick them up.. my once perfect symphony has now been cast aside by the awful noise of out of tuned instruments. One lacks the ear to hear my internal beat, moving oh so smoothly along the tips of my toes to the to the top of my head where I feel free……I can see dancing.. humming, tapping my feet..ahhhh how it moves me.
I return to reality to only pick up my fallen g clef as I peer at its curves and wondering what pitches and spaces it will tell me to have in this song of life I try to write. I rip threw pages of abandoned lyrics.. I just can’t seem to finish. Just when I feel I have found the perfect chorus or hit the right note.. Flatness…. A void of of empty chords… left untouched….
By (Angela Calvin) Artistic Soul
Don't we sometimes feel this way. "A void of empty chords.. left untouched... these are moments in our lives when we feel these uncertainties. In these moments we feel a sense of feeling lost and no matter what is going on there is this "flatness". It's like our moments of epiphanies when things just seem to "click" and it all comes to fruition and clarity. It happens all in it's own time and we can't predict it. This is the same for these moments of feeling disconnected and uninspired even. Yet we tend to have a dislike for these times and we don't want to open our arms to them in an embrace.
We often think these times are unplanned interruptions, inconveniencing in the flow of our lives but on the contrary they are planned in the grand scheme of it all. It's an intricate part of the cycle in our lives that is much needed and required. We ask why? Why is such an uncomfortable moment needed? Exactly. It's just that.."uncomfortable". It's meant to be.. it's the very moment that creates a new transition. These times just don't come once in our lives.. we often dread knowing that on the contrary they come quite often, littered throughout our journey in an unpredictable fashion. They are meant to be the catalyst to change, to our very growth as a person. If we fail to have these times then we should worry. We should worry that stagnation has set in.. we should worry that we are desensitized to our own long pauses in our lives that don't allow us to move on to finish a sentence.. or a paragraph enough to move on to the next. In these times we are moved to think and process how we feel about our lives, if not careful we can miss the lessons embedded in this moment as they are overrun by our hastiness to dismiss this time. But we should sit in it, embrace these times. Yes much easier said than done but what good does it do us to resist? When we do resist we are doomed to repeat as it will come back to us. Take it as a favor from the universe which warrants a gratitude from us.
So the next time that you find yourself unsettled, lost, annoyed and asking why... find your rhythm, try to put it all in tune, gather all the fallen notes off the floor and arrange them on your page of unfinished music....
with soul,
Artistic Soul
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Recipe for Making A Woman's Salsa (Poetry)
I felt like I wanted to do something different to fill in between the spaces and besides it's my blog so I can do what I want LOL! I got an epihphany that this would be a great space to not only share my thoughts on certain topics that surface but as well artistic expression. It's a glimpse into the other side of my mind and how I think... I hope that you will enjoy some of the "fill in between the spaces" pieces I invite you take a moment to take in.. I hope you enjoy this first piece:
Recipe for Making A Woman's Salsa
Ingredients:
-Pimientas de Chile Rojas (Red Chile Peppers
-Nalgas de Cebolla (Onion Booty)
-Tetas de Tomatoes (Tomatoe Breasts)
-Caderas (Hips)
-Ritmo (Rhythm)
-Pies mágicos (Magic Feet)
-la vuelta de la mujer (A woman's turn)
-la vuelta de un Hombre (A man's Turn)
-Musica (Music)
-Sonrias (smiles)
-La Comida! (the Food)
An aphrodisiac is required in this recipe before you begin.
-Take Pimientas de Chile Rojas and mix them in un Cafe .. tall, short, Vanilla latte, mocha, cafe con leche and stir briskly till a spicy fire embraces you in a closed body position and drink...
- Now Start to smell the rich aroma of Musica rise, now grind las caderas together with Ritmo until finely mixed together in an intoxicating seasoning creating "Sabor" the Flavor for the Salsa..
-Take a bowl and begin by dicing Nalgas de Cebolla and Tetas de Tomatoes big and small and move them around the mixing bowl , then stop and take another sip of Tu Cafe for you need to watch for salty tears in the salsa as they counteract against Los Pies Magicos..
- Now Stir in una Vuelta de La mujer and then un vuleta de Hombre, mix them together with a pinch of Sonrias y Pimientas de Chile Rojas to excite the pallet and you are ready to eat..
Don't use sparingly in your Comida of Life ... Now.. Enjoy
with soul,
Artistic Soul
Recipe for Making A Woman's Salsa
Ingredients:
-Pimientas de Chile Rojas (Red Chile Peppers
-Nalgas de Cebolla (Onion Booty)
-Tetas de Tomatoes (Tomatoe Breasts)
-Caderas (Hips)
-Ritmo (Rhythm)
-Pies mágicos (Magic Feet)
-la vuelta de la mujer (A woman's turn)
-la vuelta de un Hombre (A man's Turn)
-Musica (Music)
-Sonrias (smiles)
-La Comida! (the Food)
An aphrodisiac is required in this recipe before you begin.
-Take Pimientas de Chile Rojas and mix them in un Cafe .. tall, short, Vanilla latte, mocha, cafe con leche and stir briskly till a spicy fire embraces you in a closed body position and drink...
- Now Start to smell the rich aroma of Musica rise, now grind las caderas together with Ritmo until finely mixed together in an intoxicating seasoning creating "Sabor" the Flavor for the Salsa..
-Take a bowl and begin by dicing Nalgas de Cebolla and Tetas de Tomatoes big and small and move them around the mixing bowl , then stop and take another sip of Tu Cafe for you need to watch for salty tears in the salsa as they counteract against Los Pies Magicos..
- Now Stir in una Vuelta de La mujer and then un vuleta de Hombre, mix them together with a pinch of Sonrias y Pimientas de Chile Rojas to excite the pallet and you are ready to eat..
Don't use sparingly in your Comida of Life ... Now.. Enjoy
with soul,
Artistic Soul
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Fountain of Youth- Can it Renew our Integrity in the Arts?
Another late night trying to decide what my inspiration would be to venture down another writing journey as it's hard to find that constant muse..I reflected on some recent events.. conversations and then I saw one video that sparked something.. taking my time I sifted through a few. I could find no better inspiration than in my own backyard in the bodies of my friend's kids....
She jumps right in this little one, chuckles and all, her shy giggle ripples through her small petite frame as she knows every movement and nuance of our choreography and this is never the first time. Her mama and all of us always steal glances of her mimicking something one of us has done. This community of women around her has become her artistic playground and she has actually become our muse...
He moves from the cajon to the conga to the doumbek with ease and yet can barely get to the top shelf of his mama's cabinet, dirty blonde messy curls fall in his face and the calm look peaking from underneath show effortlessness. His solo piece.. almost done, he has a conversation of rhythm with his father, back and forth they speak the same language and it's a masterpiece of communication....
I am constantly amazed at how this brother and sister duo seem to be the spitting image and embodiment of their parents. I recognize the purity in them as they cross cultural and color lines in their artistic expression connecting to deep roots and origins. Like sponges they soak it up, deep in the skin it seeps... There are no boundaries or definitions to them as their world is boundless and they seem to be birthed in what so many artists are searching for or to regain.. Integrity.
Where has the integrity in the arts gone? Is the almighty dollar or vain recognition the ticket to sell your soul to the devil so to speak of popular public opinion? This is the question that some of us are asking. We wonder what happened to that giddy nervous feeling of anticipation when we stepped into our first dance class. The eagerness in our feet to leap across the room and be swept up by a rhythm. When we laid our first record on the turntable and set the needle down we went on a vinyl rollercoaster ride bobbing our heads cuz we knew we were sumthin good. The first time a melodic note left our mouths or our fingers stroked the strings of that instrument making it purr oh so divinely. The list could go on of the many "first times" we experienced, that gave us that "loving feeling". Yet some of us are having internal battles of of what neatly filed category we should be tucked away in. Wondering where do we fit in when our audience are spectators and we the revised version of a diluted disillusioned circus. Do we walk this tightrope trying to slide past the big frilly tutus of people pleasing and compromising that have so permeated the core of some artist's consciousness? The path less traveled suddenly seems tedious as the quick fix and get rich schemes to put a pretty penny in the pocket are much more appealing.
Some quietly and stealthy stick their hands in the cookie jar and greedly take.. they take and they appropriate to themselves culture and art forms never looking back to say thank you. They take these nuggets of gold and melt them down into an idol of worship, reshape them till it's barely noticed from where it's come from. Recycled or retouched like the cover of a teen magazine of the model with freakishly perfect body.. the masses all look on with rose colored glass and speak with forked tounges as they say they want the "real" thing but settle for the imitation. Real artists of this seemly scarcely used word integrity stand and scratch their heads wondering why they gaze on half empty audiences with blanks stares or the scattered few that fill their classes. "Maybe I should lose alittle weight and look like that, or wear alittle less" or may be I should just play that same set again like it's on repeat every week" or even "maybe I should water it down just alittle bit so it don't look too "ethnic"... or maybe I would like to know why some of us even have to ask those damned questions.
Well in case you forgot do remember that those not in the status quo need not give up the fight when we see that little girl mirroring our every movement wide eyed and bushy tailed full of giggles and the small hands of the curly haired boy feverishly chasing the patterns he creates of harmonious percussionistic interludes between he and his father's "conversation". For with them be reminded where we can quench our thirst and find this rejuvenation from their... Fountain of Youth....
with soul,
artistic soul
** thank you sister Karen for your constant example and the integrity you do give as we journey on this road in Roots Dance Theatre. Thank you to you and victor for allowing us to be blessed to be in the presence your amazing children.. apple don't fall too far from the tree...:)
She jumps right in this little one, chuckles and all, her shy giggle ripples through her small petite frame as she knows every movement and nuance of our choreography and this is never the first time. Her mama and all of us always steal glances of her mimicking something one of us has done. This community of women around her has become her artistic playground and she has actually become our muse...
He moves from the cajon to the conga to the doumbek with ease and yet can barely get to the top shelf of his mama's cabinet, dirty blonde messy curls fall in his face and the calm look peaking from underneath show effortlessness. His solo piece.. almost done, he has a conversation of rhythm with his father, back and forth they speak the same language and it's a masterpiece of communication....
I am constantly amazed at how this brother and sister duo seem to be the spitting image and embodiment of their parents. I recognize the purity in them as they cross cultural and color lines in their artistic expression connecting to deep roots and origins. Like sponges they soak it up, deep in the skin it seeps... There are no boundaries or definitions to them as their world is boundless and they seem to be birthed in what so many artists are searching for or to regain.. Integrity.
Where has the integrity in the arts gone? Is the almighty dollar or vain recognition the ticket to sell your soul to the devil so to speak of popular public opinion? This is the question that some of us are asking. We wonder what happened to that giddy nervous feeling of anticipation when we stepped into our first dance class. The eagerness in our feet to leap across the room and be swept up by a rhythm. When we laid our first record on the turntable and set the needle down we went on a vinyl rollercoaster ride bobbing our heads cuz we knew we were sumthin good. The first time a melodic note left our mouths or our fingers stroked the strings of that instrument making it purr oh so divinely. The list could go on of the many "first times" we experienced, that gave us that "loving feeling". Yet some of us are having internal battles of of what neatly filed category we should be tucked away in. Wondering where do we fit in when our audience are spectators and we the revised version of a diluted disillusioned circus. Do we walk this tightrope trying to slide past the big frilly tutus of people pleasing and compromising that have so permeated the core of some artist's consciousness? The path less traveled suddenly seems tedious as the quick fix and get rich schemes to put a pretty penny in the pocket are much more appealing.
Some quietly and stealthy stick their hands in the cookie jar and greedly take.. they take and they appropriate to themselves culture and art forms never looking back to say thank you. They take these nuggets of gold and melt them down into an idol of worship, reshape them till it's barely noticed from where it's come from. Recycled or retouched like the cover of a teen magazine of the model with freakishly perfect body.. the masses all look on with rose colored glass and speak with forked tounges as they say they want the "real" thing but settle for the imitation. Real artists of this seemly scarcely used word integrity stand and scratch their heads wondering why they gaze on half empty audiences with blanks stares or the scattered few that fill their classes. "Maybe I should lose alittle weight and look like that, or wear alittle less" or may be I should just play that same set again like it's on repeat every week" or even "maybe I should water it down just alittle bit so it don't look too "ethnic"... or maybe I would like to know why some of us even have to ask those damned questions.
Well in case you forgot do remember that those not in the status quo need not give up the fight when we see that little girl mirroring our every movement wide eyed and bushy tailed full of giggles and the small hands of the curly haired boy feverishly chasing the patterns he creates of harmonious percussionistic interludes between he and his father's "conversation". For with them be reminded where we can quench our thirst and find this rejuvenation from their... Fountain of Youth....
with soul,
artistic soul
** thank you sister Karen for your constant example and the integrity you do give as we journey on this road in Roots Dance Theatre. Thank you to you and victor for allowing us to be blessed to be in the presence your amazing children.. apple don't fall too far from the tree...:)
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The LovHER.....
Small talk turns into small kisses on the nape of her neck.. no formalities, gentle touches caress the outlines of her body as he pulls her closely into deep conversations of kisses telling her she is in this moment is the only one....
For this moment YOU are the only one and only in this present MOMENT. The Lover... a word translated and used sparingly from the tips of our tounges fall into our laps and lay cozily wanting to be stroked and touched with the intention of intimacy but the disguise of detachment. As she lays cuddled up next to this warm body an epiphany of thought crosses her mind joined with a peaceful feeling of understanding that she is in this moment satisfied....Usually she is bum rushed with thoughts of what is he thinking? where is this going? When will I see him next? and what does this all mean? this is an all too familiar pattern of a relationship glimpse that turns into a flurry of worries and unrest. When did the present turn into a future? But isn't this like us women to take a moment and make it obsolete as if it has little importance in our grand master scheme of what WE picture to transpire...but indeed it's the MOMENT we must listen to for there are a thousand words spoken we must hear.
The lover implies the meaning that there is a single purpose for the rendezvous and nothing more. It serves no further role other than an intimate encounter at the random or frequent discretion of both parties. There is in this some form of certainty and commitment in a non committal arrangement. It seems an oxymoron but in reality there is truth in this that sets us free from being bound to our "expectations" in which we should take note to acknowledge. There is simplicity that we must embrace. When we delve into our encounter and accept the role of the "lover" that crosses our path we recognize that indeed there are more meaningful levels in which to discover. We recognize that we may take out our frustrations of perhaps the lack of a partnership on the other person and not realize they have the right to be in the space they are in. If they elect not to have a relationship, it is to be respected and it simply means they are only able to give what they can at the moment and time and we must decide if we are willing to sign the dotted line of this agreement. Once we do we realize this, there is a new transformation that happens and transcends our patterns and preconceived notions or experiences. We are able to take a moment and fully enjoy the MOMENT. We should not be so narrow as to think that often times a lover means unloving or detachment. We confuse sex with intimacy and miss out on the fact that in these interactions are perhaps desires by our lover as moments to share intimacies. We express with sex, but there can be moments in the moment that emotions are shared, needs are met and for them fulfillment in an arrangement in which this is the only way they can or want to give of themselves. We once again are surrendered to this without resentment. We don't feel dis empowered when we give sexually but but feel a sense of power when we accept this arrangement of how we give ourselves. Sex does not become a shackle of NEED which creates possessiveness and insecurities nor sexual dependency. This acceptance makes the encounter no less meaningful but valid and reaffirming of our need to be touched as humans which is a powerful communication in itself.
There is a beauty in this and some peaceful satisfaction that allows us to be in that present moment. We need to let go of trying to define the role of the lover and leave it at that and not a jump off to anything more. The sooner we come to clarity between both parties involved that there are no expectations other than to be present in that moment it empowers us to feel in control of our emotions which removes all of our inhibitions. These inhibitions blur the black and white lines into gray areas. We miss the soft touch that caresses the small of our back, the warm body wrapped up in a entanglement of surrender, the passionate entwining bodies in deep release of raw pent up energies, the emotional flow of connection and acceptance that only come to eyes and arms wide open to the loveHER.....
With Soul,
Artistic Soul
For this moment YOU are the only one and only in this present MOMENT. The Lover... a word translated and used sparingly from the tips of our tounges fall into our laps and lay cozily wanting to be stroked and touched with the intention of intimacy but the disguise of detachment. As she lays cuddled up next to this warm body an epiphany of thought crosses her mind joined with a peaceful feeling of understanding that she is in this moment satisfied....Usually she is bum rushed with thoughts of what is he thinking? where is this going? When will I see him next? and what does this all mean? this is an all too familiar pattern of a relationship glimpse that turns into a flurry of worries and unrest. When did the present turn into a future? But isn't this like us women to take a moment and make it obsolete as if it has little importance in our grand master scheme of what WE picture to transpire...but indeed it's the MOMENT we must listen to for there are a thousand words spoken we must hear.
The lover implies the meaning that there is a single purpose for the rendezvous and nothing more. It serves no further role other than an intimate encounter at the random or frequent discretion of both parties. There is in this some form of certainty and commitment in a non committal arrangement. It seems an oxymoron but in reality there is truth in this that sets us free from being bound to our "expectations" in which we should take note to acknowledge. There is simplicity that we must embrace. When we delve into our encounter and accept the role of the "lover" that crosses our path we recognize that indeed there are more meaningful levels in which to discover. We recognize that we may take out our frustrations of perhaps the lack of a partnership on the other person and not realize they have the right to be in the space they are in. If they elect not to have a relationship, it is to be respected and it simply means they are only able to give what they can at the moment and time and we must decide if we are willing to sign the dotted line of this agreement. Once we do we realize this, there is a new transformation that happens and transcends our patterns and preconceived notions or experiences. We are able to take a moment and fully enjoy the MOMENT. We should not be so narrow as to think that often times a lover means unloving or detachment. We confuse sex with intimacy and miss out on the fact that in these interactions are perhaps desires by our lover as moments to share intimacies. We express with sex, but there can be moments in the moment that emotions are shared, needs are met and for them fulfillment in an arrangement in which this is the only way they can or want to give of themselves. We once again are surrendered to this without resentment. We don't feel dis empowered when we give sexually but but feel a sense of power when we accept this arrangement of how we give ourselves. Sex does not become a shackle of NEED which creates possessiveness and insecurities nor sexual dependency. This acceptance makes the encounter no less meaningful but valid and reaffirming of our need to be touched as humans which is a powerful communication in itself.
There is a beauty in this and some peaceful satisfaction that allows us to be in that present moment. We need to let go of trying to define the role of the lover and leave it at that and not a jump off to anything more. The sooner we come to clarity between both parties involved that there are no expectations other than to be present in that moment it empowers us to feel in control of our emotions which removes all of our inhibitions. These inhibitions blur the black and white lines into gray areas. We miss the soft touch that caresses the small of our back, the warm body wrapped up in a entanglement of surrender, the passionate entwining bodies in deep release of raw pent up energies, the emotional flow of connection and acceptance that only come to eyes and arms wide open to the loveHER.....
With Soul,
Artistic Soul
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sexuality: Innocent till Proven Guilty?
Ciara banned from BET for being too racy and sexual for the audiences' viewing... Yet Trey Songz can be shown on same network in a video called "The Neighbors Know My Name" and we all know we're not talking about the a friendly hello from Mr Smith as he picks up the morning paper. So why the hypocrisy? why the double standard? Fact of the matter is that Ciara perhaps had no idea what hornets nest she stirred up of gender and sexuality discourse that would occur. Although there are many layers to this onion of complexities in this one video... it would be wise to cover a particular and that is a woman's sexuality. The age old battle never ceases and is ever evolving in the ways in which it makes an impact on women from generation to generation. Just when one may think they have it figured out there is always that small crack or crevice in which perfect chaos slips through.. perfect chaos that is packaged in the image of mass media that market and sell question marks in our minds of what we as a woman should feel about our sexuality, while they seem to make periods. End of statement.. no commas, no semi colons, no open ended sentences. But I think that some things need to be edited..
Should a confident woman expressing her sexuality as Ciara did in the video be considered lewd, vulgar, inappropriate, unlady like, oversexed or too dare I say masucline? Should she have to apologize for it or relegate herself to be in the background of the music video as a sex prop, eye candy or an accessory. Women question in their minds all too often as they walk out their doors and tug on their skirt wondering if it's too short, finding that button positioned a bit higher that could seal the cleavage in or their lipstick a color code for an inappropriate proposition. There's the constant whispers of societal imposed morals or our families' inherited values that weigh heavy on us pushing us on the edge or coddling us oh too tightly that sometimes we never ask our ownselves how do WE feel? When has our sexuality as individual women become the "example" for the multitudes and not a personal responsibility to be true to ourselves first, thus we can be truth in reality to the many, because then it is coming from a real place. It's a fine line that thing called "personal example" for many. Can you be considered an individual if you are slave to the opinion of many? Sexuality seems to have censorship in which is delegated as seen fit when it serves a greedy hand's profiting purpose, but let not a woman own that which is hers. Let not a woman grow wise to the fact that she doesn't have to twerk her hips in that seductive way for the attention of man or he might not get the pleasure HE wants, Let not a woman grow wise that the revealing nature of all her womanly goods leaves nothing to her imagination but everything in HIS or Let not a woman grow wise that sitting in the backseat is no fun when you can drive the car... for some might not like the road less traveled.
Road less traveled... yes that all can be about oneself and not another. There are no double standards because there is one standard in which we reference our own conscious, yet we all have to play this game of life.. the rules in which we live upon, but one must decide to what shade of gray they choose to walk. Every cause has an affect and how we choose to wear this body and express ourselves have an incredible impact of personal power and sexual power has been the source of creation and the detriment of it in the like. So we must be careful in whom has control of yours.. let it not fall in the wrong hands. It's responsibility to know that when I dance in the club I am in control and not someonelse thus it never warrants someone to step up to me with rights, just as a bit of a peek a boo of cleavage does not warrant the depraved action of a rape. A strut down the street with hips sashaying left to right does not warrant a disrespectful cat call and when rejected does not warrant being called out my name. Being gifted with well endowed body parts does not enlist me to be the next " video vixen". All it says is that the jury is out on popular opinion that a woman's sexuality is innocent till proven guilty....
With Soul,
Artistic Soul
Should a confident woman expressing her sexuality as Ciara did in the video be considered lewd, vulgar, inappropriate, unlady like, oversexed or too dare I say masucline? Should she have to apologize for it or relegate herself to be in the background of the music video as a sex prop, eye candy or an accessory. Women question in their minds all too often as they walk out their doors and tug on their skirt wondering if it's too short, finding that button positioned a bit higher that could seal the cleavage in or their lipstick a color code for an inappropriate proposition. There's the constant whispers of societal imposed morals or our families' inherited values that weigh heavy on us pushing us on the edge or coddling us oh too tightly that sometimes we never ask our ownselves how do WE feel? When has our sexuality as individual women become the "example" for the multitudes and not a personal responsibility to be true to ourselves first, thus we can be truth in reality to the many, because then it is coming from a real place. It's a fine line that thing called "personal example" for many. Can you be considered an individual if you are slave to the opinion of many? Sexuality seems to have censorship in which is delegated as seen fit when it serves a greedy hand's profiting purpose, but let not a woman own that which is hers. Let not a woman grow wise to the fact that she doesn't have to twerk her hips in that seductive way for the attention of man or he might not get the pleasure HE wants, Let not a woman grow wise that the revealing nature of all her womanly goods leaves nothing to her imagination but everything in HIS or Let not a woman grow wise that sitting in the backseat is no fun when you can drive the car... for some might not like the road less traveled.
Road less traveled... yes that all can be about oneself and not another. There are no double standards because there is one standard in which we reference our own conscious, yet we all have to play this game of life.. the rules in which we live upon, but one must decide to what shade of gray they choose to walk. Every cause has an affect and how we choose to wear this body and express ourselves have an incredible impact of personal power and sexual power has been the source of creation and the detriment of it in the like. So we must be careful in whom has control of yours.. let it not fall in the wrong hands. It's responsibility to know that when I dance in the club I am in control and not someonelse thus it never warrants someone to step up to me with rights, just as a bit of a peek a boo of cleavage does not warrant the depraved action of a rape. A strut down the street with hips sashaying left to right does not warrant a disrespectful cat call and when rejected does not warrant being called out my name. Being gifted with well endowed body parts does not enlist me to be the next " video vixen". All it says is that the jury is out on popular opinion that a woman's sexuality is innocent till proven guilty....
With Soul,
Artistic Soul
Friday, June 4, 2010
YOU are good company..
" Girl don't worry you will find someone one day...it will happen.
" When you least expect it and you not looking.. it will happen they will come"
" I mean I am happy I would have never thought it would happen but look at me.. you will have this too one day"..
Does this sound familiar? The wise words of our friends? We love our friends... we do, but my newest realization is that no one and that's NO ONE knows what our future will bring. Be careful not to let your future hopes hang on the "good intentions" of words. The grass is always greener on the other side.. but which side are you wanting to be on? Are you sure you want to choose sides? The real question is can you be content in being alone with yourself and acknowledge or accept that a partner is not promised? I think that somehow in this is where the peace lies, when you can really let go and let live. You can stop living in a world of maybes, or what ifs.. or looking for the lay away plan.. but you live in the present. It's called not being attached to an outcome....
We find it hard to let go of the ken and barbie doll role plays of ourselves in which we lived vicariously through them hoping we'd have the dream home. We rolled the dice in the game of LIFE and collected $100 along the way and saw our whole future played out on the winding road of a board game. We then graduated into soft teen romance novels that had us fantasizing about that first kiss, the strange tingle between our legs and the swelling of our breasts. Everywhere we turned there were constant visual cues and messages that told us we should always plan to be two and not ONE. So we make the box and thus begins the road of our collecting... collecting those partners that would become our "exs" exs that we thought were the "one" the father of our child, the soul mate, one we could cross off the list.. and we stuffed them in this box.. this box we made that was a square and he was a triangle but still we stuffed them in there, yet we wondered why they didn't fit. Some did and to this day we are all cramped and annoyed that they didn't fit but we made them. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we become less and they become more of value in this "box"? why do we think we are in control when we powerlessly give way to our rights to say yes or no...these are real words that do exist, yet we fail to use them often. Why do we try to make a dollar out of 15cents or take piece of them and try to create a whole...What I call "Faux" relationship...
Why do we feel that any relationship is better than no relationship? Why do we accept this "Faux relationship? We want so bad to rock that expensive fur that we settle for a "fake". Even when we clearly see the imperfections sewn and patched so glaringly before us we still wear it. When they say " I am not ready for anything serious right now".. you hear "I am not ready for a relationship RIGHT NOW, but in time you will so I will just stick around and wait it out...." Red flags are waving and alarms are going off and yet all we see is the KMART blue light special going off and we go running. There's..nothing special about it and there ain't no discount.. there is never a discount on LOVE.
It's been quite the battle for me.. the endless lessons I wish would end but they never do, but they do get better. The one thing about the universe is that you will repeat a lesson till it feels you are ready to move on. It will re manifest itself in some other form and yet carry the same the lesson or maybe you have progressed but still you got some more to go. Time passes.. all the while.. you look behind you and see your box grow further away and notice the tattered edges and torn corners and wonder if this is worth keeping... Do we hold on or let go? I found that through all the challenges one resolve I made though hard was that no matter what my best friend and I giggled about in English class in the details of our family plans some many years ago.. I would never just get married or have a family because it was that "time". My 36th birthday... has come and gone and here I am careful to look at my glass the right way.. half empty or half full... simply one year older at 36 or 4 years away from 40.. which would you pick? ( I have to chuckle at that one) yet this is reality of the struggle. Still we must be open to growth, be open to wisdom and that there is deep down inside a place where the lessons all converge to this one point. This one point in which you wake up and realize last night you slept alone and enjoyed stretching out in the fullness of your bed, walked in your home and cooked for one or ate nothing at all, went out every night of the week and no clock kept track. You realize that your smiles are from the simple pleasures you took for granted, the laughter from the inside jokes with friends and you get so lost in your own world that you realize the only company, the best company you have been keeping is YOU.
When you are satisfied with you..Then IF and WHEN that someone will come along..there will be no IOYOU.. But you will be paid in FULL.
with soul,
Artistic Soul
" When you least expect it and you not looking.. it will happen they will come"
" I mean I am happy I would have never thought it would happen but look at me.. you will have this too one day"..
Does this sound familiar? The wise words of our friends? We love our friends... we do, but my newest realization is that no one and that's NO ONE knows what our future will bring. Be careful not to let your future hopes hang on the "good intentions" of words. The grass is always greener on the other side.. but which side are you wanting to be on? Are you sure you want to choose sides? The real question is can you be content in being alone with yourself and acknowledge or accept that a partner is not promised? I think that somehow in this is where the peace lies, when you can really let go and let live. You can stop living in a world of maybes, or what ifs.. or looking for the lay away plan.. but you live in the present. It's called not being attached to an outcome....
We find it hard to let go of the ken and barbie doll role plays of ourselves in which we lived vicariously through them hoping we'd have the dream home. We rolled the dice in the game of LIFE and collected $100 along the way and saw our whole future played out on the winding road of a board game. We then graduated into soft teen romance novels that had us fantasizing about that first kiss, the strange tingle between our legs and the swelling of our breasts. Everywhere we turned there were constant visual cues and messages that told us we should always plan to be two and not ONE. So we make the box and thus begins the road of our collecting... collecting those partners that would become our "exs" exs that we thought were the "one" the father of our child, the soul mate, one we could cross off the list.. and we stuffed them in this box.. this box we made that was a square and he was a triangle but still we stuffed them in there, yet we wondered why they didn't fit. Some did and to this day we are all cramped and annoyed that they didn't fit but we made them. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we become less and they become more of value in this "box"? why do we think we are in control when we powerlessly give way to our rights to say yes or no...these are real words that do exist, yet we fail to use them often. Why do we try to make a dollar out of 15cents or take piece of them and try to create a whole...What I call "Faux" relationship...
Why do we feel that any relationship is better than no relationship? Why do we accept this "Faux relationship? We want so bad to rock that expensive fur that we settle for a "fake". Even when we clearly see the imperfections sewn and patched so glaringly before us we still wear it. When they say " I am not ready for anything serious right now".. you hear "I am not ready for a relationship RIGHT NOW, but in time you will so I will just stick around and wait it out...." Red flags are waving and alarms are going off and yet all we see is the KMART blue light special going off and we go running. There's..nothing special about it and there ain't no discount.. there is never a discount on LOVE.
It's been quite the battle for me.. the endless lessons I wish would end but they never do, but they do get better. The one thing about the universe is that you will repeat a lesson till it feels you are ready to move on. It will re manifest itself in some other form and yet carry the same the lesson or maybe you have progressed but still you got some more to go. Time passes.. all the while.. you look behind you and see your box grow further away and notice the tattered edges and torn corners and wonder if this is worth keeping... Do we hold on or let go? I found that through all the challenges one resolve I made though hard was that no matter what my best friend and I giggled about in English class in the details of our family plans some many years ago.. I would never just get married or have a family because it was that "time". My 36th birthday... has come and gone and here I am careful to look at my glass the right way.. half empty or half full... simply one year older at 36 or 4 years away from 40.. which would you pick? ( I have to chuckle at that one) yet this is reality of the struggle. Still we must be open to growth, be open to wisdom and that there is deep down inside a place where the lessons all converge to this one point. This one point in which you wake up and realize last night you slept alone and enjoyed stretching out in the fullness of your bed, walked in your home and cooked for one or ate nothing at all, went out every night of the week and no clock kept track. You realize that your smiles are from the simple pleasures you took for granted, the laughter from the inside jokes with friends and you get so lost in your own world that you realize the only company, the best company you have been keeping is YOU.
When you are satisfied with you..Then IF and WHEN that someone will come along..there will be no IOYOU.. But you will be paid in FULL.
with soul,
Artistic Soul
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Belly Aching
Definition of "Womb"-A place where something is generated. An encompassing protective or hallow space. A place where something is made or formed.
Birth, new life in the real sense creates an indescribable act of miracle and yet this same place from which this miracle is created is the most vulnerable place on our body. It protects some of the most vital parts of our body. Out of the womb also comes the origin of emotions, the core of where our feelings are released and where they are held. This energy of emotions sets forth in motion a psychological journey in which we embark on daily. What will be birthed from this journey is something all together one must decide.
I paced back and forth in my in my room pouting and cursing all the while every other minute was a glance in the full length mirror in my room. I was running out of time to pack for my trip to LA for memorial day weekend and nothing seemed to be the right thing to wear. I poked and prodded at my belly, stood side ways, sucked in, stood straight, slouched in and cursed this protruding nemisis on my body. It was a control freak and an unwanted visitor that had seemed to overstay its welcome. It spoke a mind of it's own telling me what to do and what to think. "Don't wear that, Wear this and Don't even think about trying on that. I finally fumbled around and stuffed my bag with clothes out of mental exhaustion and a pissy mood. I most definitely was over it, although I knew this battle was far from over.....this battle has been waging as a full blown war and assault on my mind and I am not the only casualty. Women write obituaries to their self esteem and bury the most valued treasures of self in a shallow grave of body image.
Women cringe over so many parts of their bodies but one of the most fascinating to me is the belly, the womb, this most sacred part has created sacrilege for many of us. A place where so much power is held has become our weakness. We have become addicts, overdosing on our own distorted views of the center of our womanhood. We don't place healing hands on our womb but touch it with rejection and malice..malice against ourselves. It's a crime in which we make ourselves serve time... valuable time lost in this false imprisonment. Body Image.. it's a culprit of sorts, a trickster of the mind taunting us. We sometimes cry and buckle over clutching our stomachs in deep mournful sobs and yet when we eat and are full we rub it in sheer delight, how do both these things exist in one place? I imagine that this sacred place is often confused as energies flow to and fro in a bundled mess of misdirection. Why can't we seem to get this message straight?
There is an audible and visual broadcast of propaganda handing us psychological pamphlets of the definition of the society's image of a woman. We read them and often believe them, reciting them by memory until we think that we were the ones that made the conception, but it's an immaculate conception of sorts in which unless the last time I looked we were no Jesus. So how does it all become truth.. truth for every single woman, laid down like law. Well the jury is out and we are guilty for believing...
Unlike the constitution in which all men are created equal... women were not created equal. They come in all shapes and sizes predisposed by nature and genetics to be who they are. Yet they are given this canvas in which they must work with to create the picture of themselves in which they deem a masterpiece. It's an original one of a kind piece that no one can duplicate. No one tells an artist what they shall create..
what is it that you shall create? what is it that I shall create? An artist decides every stroke of the brush is important and in the end it matters not if the final piece is adored by the onlooker but what matters most is that it is a work admired by one's self who created it.....
with soul,
artistic soul
Birth, new life in the real sense creates an indescribable act of miracle and yet this same place from which this miracle is created is the most vulnerable place on our body. It protects some of the most vital parts of our body. Out of the womb also comes the origin of emotions, the core of where our feelings are released and where they are held. This energy of emotions sets forth in motion a psychological journey in which we embark on daily. What will be birthed from this journey is something all together one must decide.
I paced back and forth in my in my room pouting and cursing all the while every other minute was a glance in the full length mirror in my room. I was running out of time to pack for my trip to LA for memorial day weekend and nothing seemed to be the right thing to wear. I poked and prodded at my belly, stood side ways, sucked in, stood straight, slouched in and cursed this protruding nemisis on my body. It was a control freak and an unwanted visitor that had seemed to overstay its welcome. It spoke a mind of it's own telling me what to do and what to think. "Don't wear that, Wear this and Don't even think about trying on that. I finally fumbled around and stuffed my bag with clothes out of mental exhaustion and a pissy mood. I most definitely was over it, although I knew this battle was far from over.....this battle has been waging as a full blown war and assault on my mind and I am not the only casualty. Women write obituaries to their self esteem and bury the most valued treasures of self in a shallow grave of body image.
Women cringe over so many parts of their bodies but one of the most fascinating to me is the belly, the womb, this most sacred part has created sacrilege for many of us. A place where so much power is held has become our weakness. We have become addicts, overdosing on our own distorted views of the center of our womanhood. We don't place healing hands on our womb but touch it with rejection and malice..malice against ourselves. It's a crime in which we make ourselves serve time... valuable time lost in this false imprisonment. Body Image.. it's a culprit of sorts, a trickster of the mind taunting us. We sometimes cry and buckle over clutching our stomachs in deep mournful sobs and yet when we eat and are full we rub it in sheer delight, how do both these things exist in one place? I imagine that this sacred place is often confused as energies flow to and fro in a bundled mess of misdirection. Why can't we seem to get this message straight?
There is an audible and visual broadcast of propaganda handing us psychological pamphlets of the definition of the society's image of a woman. We read them and often believe them, reciting them by memory until we think that we were the ones that made the conception, but it's an immaculate conception of sorts in which unless the last time I looked we were no Jesus. So how does it all become truth.. truth for every single woman, laid down like law. Well the jury is out and we are guilty for believing...
Unlike the constitution in which all men are created equal... women were not created equal. They come in all shapes and sizes predisposed by nature and genetics to be who they are. Yet they are given this canvas in which they must work with to create the picture of themselves in which they deem a masterpiece. It's an original one of a kind piece that no one can duplicate. No one tells an artist what they shall create..
what is it that you shall create? what is it that I shall create? An artist decides every stroke of the brush is important and in the end it matters not if the final piece is adored by the onlooker but what matters most is that it is a work admired by one's self who created it.....
with soul,
artistic soul
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