Might As Well Fall In

I don't believe that I have ever posted a music video on here. However, there is an exception to every rule. When I made this page I made it to seek clarity on things that were going on with me & ones close to me. In doing so I thought that it would help myself, those close, & hopefully my readers as well.

In that same spirit--I post this video. It's one that is very basic in lyrical premise but immensely deep in soulful approach to...well listen & see.

Clear your mind...press play

James Blake - The Wilhelm Scream

Directed by Alexander Brown

Production company - Davey Inc.

Busy Signal

Rare these days that you call someone & they actually have a “busy signal”. With technology where it is these days your call will either go to voicemail so you can leave a message--or it will simply ring under the “call waiting” feature.

People on the other hand seem to use the “busy signal” often when it comes to expression & the dreaded “one step to far within their emotionally charged personal bubble” conversations. I have heard many times that people push you away to see how much you care to come back. Or due to their past it is hard to open up. You know--I get that. I really do.

When is it enough though? How many times must someone prove that they care? How long will the past haunt you?

Trying to answer these questions for someone else would be as difficult to near impossible as trying to measure the pain of people who’s family died in the holocaust or slavery. Especially since some people even now tend to “overlook” that these events happened or are even conversation worthy. Measuring another’s pain just can’t be done.

My true question is at what point do the people that are willing to be open in spite of their fears, past situations/disappointments/loss of family members/loss of loved ones/etc…at what point do the people that are willing to not only brave the fire of stepping within your bubble but brave the insecurity of allowing you to step within theirs…at what point has it been “long enough”? At what point has it been “too much effort”? At what point do they dial another number that may not always have a “busy signal”?

Listen More Closely

If you never have before please listen to ‘Windmills of your mind’ by Sting (from ‘The Thomas Crown Affair’ soundtrack). It brings clarity to things that would otherwise be lost if you just become “STILL” & really listen to it. I mean listen to it the way that people listen to a doctor in the most dire situations in an emergency room.

Listening to what is being said while listening to what is perceived to be said is a gift from God given to us. Why not use it?!

The communication that we have with God is not able to be heard by all. However, it is understood by all that are willing to believe…that are willing to have faith. Faith & belief in something greater. Something more. Something powerful. Something great. I have never known anything that is bigger than what I can imagine in my mind like I have known the Lord. The only thing I can draw a comparison to with regards to faith & belief is “air”. You can’t see, feel, smell, or physically hear air but it fills your lungs just like that cup of Pumpkin Spice Latte that you got this morning filled your stomach.

The Lord fills my soul to the brim of my cup. It over flows due to his/her love. I give a lot yet like giving money to a homeless person--it is never enough to do the jester justice. I love my life. I often wish I was immortal. (laughing) But I once loved a man (my grandfather) more than my own life. I wrote him a letter & gave it to him in hospice stating that I would give him all of my strength & all of my life if he wanted to take it & live longer.

In that instance I had but a fraction of a fraction of what Jesus did for us. He gave his life for OUR sins…for us…all of us. I can’t fathom what that was like. I can’t dream to have that courage. Yet I love him for it every day of my life.

Blessings…

(dedicated to @spreadingJOY from twitter...she made me post this. haha)

Roads Not Taken

As with all things that have an "evolutionary path" there was a time of development prior to reaching enlightenment. I USED TO identify with the following excerpt by 'Hank Moody' (played by David Duchovny on 'Californication') being said to his boss's wife that just made a pass at him.

That’s my purgatory, really -- dinner, drinks, whatever. Never really all that interested, but I find myself telling her how beautiful she is anyway. Because it’s true -- all women are in one way or another. You know, there’s always something about every damn one of you -- there’s a smile, a curve, a secret. You ladies really are the most amazing creatures. My life’s work. But then there’s the morning after, the hangover and the realization that I’m not quite as available as I thought I was the night before. And she’s gone, and I’m haunted by yet another road not taken.

Had a conversation with a friend about something very similar to this. Made me think of this excerpt & want to share it with you on our journey to clarity.

A truism that I have found is that resolving all past situations, not fearing the future, & being an active willing participant in the present will allow you to open up to a significant other...among other things that is. haha But I find that those steps are systemically connected to all of the "other things" needed to become emotionally & spiritually naked with your mate. Not simply physically naked...

The Idea Of "You"

Like watching a row of dominos falling in reverse the hairs on my forearm begin to stand up. With the slight shiver of a new born without their blanket my right arm moves. I start to hear Gregory Hines tap dancing an advanced shuffle toe combination outside. He is getting closer. The steps are getting louder & more pronounced. The beat is heavy now. Could it be in here some where. I begin looking around with the paranoia of a man on the run. I can’t see anything…I can’t see anyone.

Where is this coming from? I soon realize that its coming from my chest. It was my heart racing not tap dancing. What just happened?

Then it hits me like a tsunami…it all started when I thought about you.

Prelude To Our First Kiss

Pitch black darkness…eyes closed to light & yet her face just inches away…just a breathe away is seen with perfect recognition. Her lips slowly coming together while calling me close. I am in a warm trance-like state. My movements are not my own. Trembling with eager anticipation of the sweet & sensual taste of romantic ambrosia seeping from her satin lips; I inch closer. Now her passionate energy is felt throughout me like blood coursing through my veins.

This one grain of sand from time drops with the speed of a feather floating in the windless air. This prelude to the book of ecstasy written with our lips & proofread by our souls will determine just how good the book itself will be. This prelude is all I need to know about her. For within it’s pages lies a true connection so great it contains more information than the internet.

If only I had a worthy muse who would become my eternal muse to my heart. I wonder who will end up writing this with me one day...

Remembering Love

Cavernous yet hollow shadows replace the area that was once filled with an inexhaustible light. A place that was so warm in all senses of the word that to wear metaphorical masks, shielded armor around your heart, or even clothing on the skin seemed excessive. For this was a place of pure & undeniable comfort. A place of not only warm climate but of an emotional warmth. The kind of warmth that comes with being held tightly by your mate both in a moment of sorrow & in a moment of uncontainable joy. The type of warmth that Cynthia Ozick tried to bestow onto Magda’s shawl in various humanistic transformations in ‘The Shawl’. The type of warmth that trickles throughout your body at the moment of arousal. The type of warmth that comes with knowing without any reservations whatsoever that you are loved infinitely.

That type of warmth comes from the light of your soul that is reflected in another. That type of warmth comes from the light which undresses your mind, body & soul…emotionally naked…physically naked…spiritually naked.

The inexhaustible light…of love.

Hidden Truth

When people look out at the world they must be able to see through other people’s eyes. There is a humility in allowing yourself to truly view the world through another. In certain situations it maybe the only way for you to see things as they really are.

Much like glass our own eyes can become clouded and dirty. Thus making our view of the world & others distorted and/or blind us all together. Seeing the truth of the situation is hard (sometimes impossible) if we aren’t able to take the perspective of others.

When Muted Voices Become Audible

"The stage is in darkness. Harsh music is heard as dim blue lights come up. One after another, seven women run onto the stage from each of the exits. They all freeze in postures of distress."

The beginning of the book/collection of poems, 'For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf' begins strangling your attention with the literary illustration of the opening scene (quoted above). However, as the reader begins to realize this initial scene, this entrance from exits, this run into frozen distress, this metaphorical & perpetual cycle is truly the backdrop for this night blooming cactus of poetic personal widely shared accounts.



"...this must be the spook house
another song with no singers
lyrics/ no voices
& interrupted solos
unseen performances

are we ghouls?
children of horror?
the joke?

don't tell nobody don't tell a soul
are we animals? have we gone crazy?

i can't hear anythin
but maddening screams
& the soft strains of death
& you promised me...
somebody/ anybody
sing a black girl's song
bring her out
to know herself
to know you
but sing her rhythms
carin/ struggle/ hard times
sing her song of life
she's been dead so long
closed in silence so long
she doesn't know the sound
of her own voice
her infinite beauty

she's half-notes scattered
without rhythm...
(lady in brown, 1. 11-40)


Scattered half-notes...half-notes. Half-notes...why half-notes? That is what I kept asking myself over & over. Was it because the half-note is hollow? Couldn't be because the whole-note itself is hollow. Was it because it is simply 1/2 of being complete? Perhaps. However, what I always thought was special about the whole-note is that it stands alone. It doesn't need any stems, tails, bridges, or what have you. It stands alone...complete...whole. Then I said, "Mike, your over thinking this."

I then realized that I wasn't over thinking it--I was under thinking it. The half-note isn't so much a metaphor for the women/girls. It is the disconnect of song that is the women/girls themselves. Rather their emotions, bottled up desires, individuality, & souls that have become so lost...so muted...so buried within that they are as indecipherable as "half-notes scattered without rhythm".

The irony behind that thought that I had was that the same things that have become indecipherable has in some way mutated. Taking on a form of a cold & dark personal prison with no hope of parole...an inescapable bedfellow of madness. To add to this personal purgatory this prison has sound proof unbreakable glass for walls. Unbreakable glass walls used by others outside to serve as cognitive dissonance. Unbreakable glass walls in which they can look in with judging eyes. Unbreakable glass walls in which they can laugh without fear of reproach. Sound proof unbreakable walls in which cries & pleas can not be heard...rending either pointless attempts.

Whilst focusing on everyone with a condemning eye or a scornful laugh she can not see the ones trying to open the door to this personal purgatory. For there are people out there that want to help--even if unseen.

All this time due to all that she has been through she has forgotten that there is even a door.

All this time due to all that she has been through she has forgotten that door is locked from the inside.

She may have been thrown into this prison. But out of the kind of hurt & pain that makes a person lose their ability to speak; she found comfort in the solitude. Comfort in the fact that she could not be hurt directly anymore. No one could touch her true self. She locked the door from the inside...

The key to the door is voice of her soul...lost, muted, buried & indecipherable.

HOW CAN WE FIND IT, TURN UP THE VOLUME, UNEARTH IT, & UNLOCK IT'S BEAUTY? HOW CAN WE MAKE MUTED VOICES BECOME AUDIBLE?!?!

Part I of my thoughts on this excellent collection of poems...collection of souls has ended with the aforementioned question...do you have an answer? Can you even see the need for an answer? Let me know...maybe we'll find one together. Thank you for listening to my thoughts...

-M

Inches matter

Sitting hear watching 'Any Given Sunday' the movie inspired me to once again remind myself "inches matter"! It was Al Pacino's halftime speech at the end of the movie in particular that moved me.

Here is a portion of it: "...you know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That's, that's part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches...The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the f'n difference between WINNING and LOSING between LIVING and DYING."

The reason that it moved me so much at first wasn't because of my own motives or drive. It was in thinking about my grandmother and her motives and drive. She will be 89 years old this month (thank God for blessing us with these many years with her) and at times I sense that she questions her value. Now if you knew my grandmother you would know that she has the get up and go of a 50 year old woman. She doesn't spend one day solely being in the house. She drives herself everywhere (if it can be reached without going on the expressway) she needs to go. However, she is being assisted more and more by the family as her memory is deteriorating.

At times she expresses that she thinks that she is "in the way" or that she "doesn't matter". Now she doesn't say this to anyone other than confiding in me. As we have always had a special relationship, she is extremely candid with me. I do everything I can to ensure that she feels wanted, needed, and loved. As does my mom and other family members. However, at the end of the day how they feel about themselves is up to that person.

Even so, if you knew it was within your power to help someone feel better about themselves and their place in the world...why wouldn't you do it?!?! I think that all over the world there are people that are newborn babies all the way to people that are 100+ years of age that question their value/place in the world.

If you truly love the people in your life, claw for that inch with them!

Make them feel like they aren't "in the way"; make sure that they know that "they matter"; make sure that they know that they are loved; and most of all make sure that they know that they are LIVING!



*image courtesy of www.pixmac.com