Studious and Silly

I study a lot. 

Sometimes my kiddos need more attention.

It can be demanding,

but I'm glad they are not afraid to show it.

It's good for me to take a break from

Civil Rights court cases

and get silly with my little character.

This boy has always been quite expressive.

No idea where he gets it from.... ;)

 He loves his mama, 

and isn't quite too cool to snuggle up to me, 

like his big, cool brother.

He's also not afraid to make fun of his mother.

"Mom! Mom!....who am I?"

Ha ha. Very funny. 

Is that what I look like when I'm on the phone?

Dorkiness runs in the family.

Hopefully so does maintaining a stellar GPA!

I don't want to wait in vain....

As I take down the lights and decorations from the tree huge house plant, alone in my house, the scratchy sound of a Bob Marley bootleg moans on in the background-Waiting In Vain, the long acoustic version..."From the very first time I rest my eyes on you, girl, my heart said follow through. And I know now that I'm way down on your line, but the waiting feeling's fine." I wish I could say that the waiting feeling is fine. Melancholy has its hold on me today, not unlike many other days, but it's been pronounced through the holidays. 2012 was a heavy one. So much has come. So much has gone. So much lingers in my heart waiting for me to embrace or release it.

I wrap up the baby Jesus and whisper a prayer for my salvation. Not from hell. I don't believe in hell. Hell is here; it's what we put ourselves and each other through as we stumble our way to find the light that is also ever present, if only we can just see it under all the masked pain. It's not even the pain I need salvation from. I need to be saved from these worries. I wish to be rescued from my attachments. Delusions and illusions, be gone.

This constant process of letting go is full of grief. I wish I could release these painful feelings, experiences and unmet wishes and just be done with them. If only it were that easy. It's not supposed to be that easy. Instead it revisits, requiring us to let it go again and again: that heartbreak that I can't seem to get over, leaving the comfort zone of a predictable life, the constant pressure of 'better,' the hard lessons my children face, maneuvering my way through single parenting them as they grow to be men, lack of understanding from loved ones, and my own painful reflections. I see the gifts in it and also how necessary this process is to my path in the world, but recognizing the beauty in the mess doesn't make it easier to wade through.

There are times when I just want to escape, and the only escape from pain is to constantly distract ourselves. So many of us do this. I do this. It's those times when I'm alone, with no distractions, that my heart can really feel all that it's been holding, and my goodness gracious, it hurts. Trust me, it's not always my choice to give up distractions, even if they are unhealthy. Thing is, when we don't make good decisions for ourselves, or are too blind by our own illusions, the Universe steps in and makes them for us. This can look like things going wrong, people leaving us, illness, anything to slow us down.

When we expect someone or something else to come along and distract us enough to allow us to escape pain and suffering, waiting in vain is exactly what we are doing. I've seen where I choose to wait in vain, because it's easier than letting something/someone go. More so than letting that thing or person go, it's letting our ideals go. We are letting our expectations and hopes go. Ouch. This leaves us with the raw unpredictability of life.

Good news: when we let go, we make room for something else.....likely something better. I'm brave enough to swim through the tears to make room for the joy. We can project our fantasies as far into the future as we wish, but the truth is we don't know how something would have turned out, or what will turn out for us because it didn't. Sometimes we don't even know why we want something we want, and sometimes we want it for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes it all gets so murky, that we have to throw up our hands and let the good Lord sort it out.

I choose not to wait in vain, but I will wait. I'll wait for the right timing. I'll wait for the right situation. I'll wait for the right man, the right job, the right location, and the right path to unfold as it will. While I'll experience pain and loss in intervals with faith and joy, I'll sit with it, knowing the impermanence of this life and these feelings. The winds of change are never still, and while I wait, I will strengthen my conviction that the more I allow myself to fully feel what it is that comes up for me, the more present, compassionate, passionate and real I can show up in the world.

The Night Before Christmas (my version...)

'Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house condo

When I said "time for bed"

My creatures said "heck no."

I was falling asleep

Though stockings needed stuffed

That Guinness didn't help

Nor the spliff I'd just puffed.

I kept my eyes open just long enough

To stuff and stuff and stuff with fluff

Feeling thankful at least one son

Figured out the Santa bluff.

See, when they think it is Santa

They don't hold back

With no limits or price tags

Consuming is like crack

I want, I want, I want, I want...ack!

The holidays can suck,
As a poor single mama,
But to skip it all together
Would create too much drama.
So I try to stay centered
And focus my sight
On overcoming the darkness
On bringing the light.
The days, they get longer,
And my spirit gets stronger,
As I slowly overcome
My own personal warmonger,
Waging a war
Against my very own self
Who, without taking the steps,
Wants to reach the highest shelf.
These expectations I lay
They tend to be high,
As the time of transformation
Constantly draws nigh.
It's always in motion
Like the waves in the ocean
Stirring and churning
There's no special potion
To make it stop,
To make it good.
There is no "better"
There is no "should."
One day I'll stop telling myself so.
One day I'll know that I already know.
It's ok I have no material wealth to show.
It's ok the only bling is my soft inner glow.

My kids will survive
Without the iPhone five.
It's the non-material gems
That will cause us to thrive.
With a passionate anti-consumerist mother,
They will know all about the "other"...
Other people in the world
Other ways to celebrate
Other traditions to carry
That don't negate
The true meaning of these times.
We will read between the lines
And find that fruit
That hangs from our vines.

Jesus-
The radical spreader of love
Material wants
He freed himself of.
I know he wasn't really born on this day,
But his life is a beautiful truth of the way-
Of the way things can be
For you and for me.
Of societal pressure
We can be free.
Towards Divine guidance
We can faithfully flee.

So I'll say with conviction,
There's no wrong,
There's no right.
There's perception and intention
That does give flight
To decisions that are always a call
For love and for light.
And with that I say,
On this bittersweet day,
Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good night.

7 years

It was 4 days after my due date that he actually came. I was ready. 

**********

All throughout my pregnancy, I had called him a her. I just imagined I would have a little girl, but somewhere deep inside me wasn't convinced. I didn't realize it until he was there: son number two, in my arms. Then I thought "Of course you're a boy!"

And, boy, was I in love!

**********

I learned to play the mbira when he was growing in my belly. I had just prior to becoming pregnant become passionate about dance, and danced my whole way through. I was healthy and vibrant, and he was conceived with intention. Our family was ready for him to complete it. 

**********

My labor with Elijah was so fast and furious, I had visualized this one coming on a little slower, giving me time to breathe into it. It did. At 1 a.m. I awoke with cramping. I tried to rest, but slowly they got stronger, longer, and closer together, so I got up. I sat in front of the fire and folded little tiny baby clothes, knowing that it wouldn't be long before I had a baby wearing them. I looked at the tiny socks and hats and onesies, finding it hard to believe that we all start out that small.

**********

Jacob was running around the house preparing, Elijah was sleeping, and I was by the fire, meditating with each contraction that came. I found myself stuck in the corner of the couch, in deep meditation and breathing, unable to move, until the midwife got there. She encouraged me to try and walk around and use the toilet. There I sat, trying to pee, for what seemed like an eternity. The contractions came one after another, making no time for me to actually go! After some time, I got back up and went back to the living room. Jorah Sai was born in front of that fire at 8 a.m. that cold, snowy December morning, seven years ago today. There he was, a perfect little spitting image of his big brother, who was there watching him enter the world. I pulled him to my chest, skin to skin, and he started to nurse. 

**********

We made our bed in the living room, by the fire, where we stayed for 2 weeks. In front of that fire, I watched him sleep in the day and wake in the night, taking it all in. Elijah was up on the couch and the family was in love with our new member. It was in front of that same fire place that I bounced him when he was a colicky baby, that I rocked him in the rocking chair and nursed him while I sang or played mbira. It was that same fire place that he learned to crawl in front of, where he played with toys, where he learned to toddle about, and where we read books. It was just in the past 6 months that we moved from the house he was born, and now it's a new fireplace we grow in front of. He has adjusted well to his new home and his new school. He is so easy to please, and for that I'm so grateful and humbled.

**********

My Jorah is quick to giggle, and quick to cry, like his mama. His spirit has always been so full of joy, and also so sensitive and passionate. He loves nature and can entertain himself all day long with dress up and make believe. He needs me to snuggle him and sing to him every night before bed, and when he falls asleep in the crook of my arm, his face still looks like a baby's. He gazes at me and often squeezes me tighter while snuggling. I want to give him all the security he needs. 

**********

I can't imagine not having him; I can't imagine not having them-both of my very special boys. While their dad is (thankfully) in the picture, it's always been my boys and I. We are a team. We've traveled, prayed, cried, fought and healed together. Here I am, a passionate feminist dedicating my life to the work of raising these men and fighting for equal rights for girls all over the world. These two things are so closely related. Equal rights is as beneficial to them as it is to a little girl who wants an education in Pakistan. I'm helping them to see the threads that connect us all, and they surprise me with their level of compassion. As a single mother, it can be hard for me.....and for them, but they get it. I'm real with them. Sometimes life feels like it's spinning out of control, but at the end of the day, we have each other. We are family. Our family would not be complete without our little Jorah Sai. 

Happy Birthday, baby. 

What would men be without women?

Scarce, sir, mighty scarce.

-Mark Twain

Dear White People,

It's no secret that I love Africa. As a child, I dreamt of living there-still do. About 8 years ago, I was introduced to African dance and soon after, the mbira, a beautiful little instrument from Zimbabwe. I fell completely in love with all of it. I listen to primarily reggae and hip hop and when I go to church, it's usually a church with more (if not all) African American members. I thrive when immersed in culturally diverse areas, and with a culturally diverse group of friends. As these areas have opened up more in my life, so has my awareness of white privilege. I've had to ask myself hard questions, like, "Am I, as a white person, over identifying with black culture?,"Do I treat other races different than my own?," and "Am I being offensive without even knowing it?" I find myself getting embarrassed when I see other white people being inappropriate, even though it's not always their intention. It happens way more than one would think, and we notice when we pay attention to it. No doubt it's always worse when acting superior or disrespectful is their intention.

As white people, we have the choice whether or not we will pay attention to the ways minorities are treated. Some of us are in denial, claiming that our country is post-racial. Not true. Perhaps we think it because we, ourselves, haven't experienced this kind of discrimination. We don't experience people looking down and not talking to us if we have a hijab on our heads, or extra eyes on us in the store if we are black man in every day clothes, or as an immigrant being talked to as if we are stupid. Most of us claim we are not racist at all, but may not even notice the subtle ways we can come off as so. Some of us don't even want to look at the issue, because it makes us feel guilty. It's called white guilt; after all it was our ancestors who basically annihilated thousands of indigenous cultures during the days of colonization. Many of these cultures are still struggling to keep their sense of cultural identity, and we can see the heavy Western influence that is permeating so many parts of the world. Look at our own population of Native Americans in this country. It's a sad state of affairs.

In our prison system, it is 6-1 African American males to white males. In Australia, it's 18-1 Aboriginals to white Australians. This has a lot of factors to it, one being that these populations simply aren't given equal opportunity,which forces them to find ways for their means that are sometimes illegal. It's a trap: take away their rights, their land, their culture, stick them in ghettos and then expect them to fend for themselves. Another factor is that they are racially profiled. If you take a white drug dealer and a black drug dealer, the black drug dealer has a much higher chance of getting busted, because simply being black makes him a suspect.

If we are not exposed to the reality of this, we may not ever even notice it. We don't get how what seems like innocent questions can be offensive. We don't get it how when me meet a person from Africa and ask them if they speak "African?" it's generalizing their culture, which can feel demeaning.  We don't get how putting them on the spot might be uncomfortable, or how touching their hair might be inappropriate. We don't how when we are singing along with Tupac about the struggle for blacks in South Central L.A. might be offensive to black people living that struggle. We google over babies of other races, claiming how cute they are yet either ignore their parents or try way too hard to be friendly with them. We never need to add "this white guy" to the story yet "black," "gay," "asian," and "Muslim" seem to always make it in there, setting the system up for racial profiling. We don't get it that simply because we are white, we have more opportunity, and perhaps that is the reason we are sometimes met with resentment. We have all this privilege, yet we don't even recognize it, let alone speak out about it.

My challenge to all of us white folk, is to create awareness around how we think of other races, how we talk about them, how we talk to them and how we treat them. Under it all, we are all just humans, yet even this statement is easier to say as a privileged white person who has not had to experience discrimination on a daily basis. It's true that we are all one people, but we must be careful not to sweep these issues under the rug under that guise. Just because we all should be treated as equal doesn't mean that we are, and this is what we must keep working towards.

I recently found out about the satire, "Dear White People," which points out relevant truths, in a comical way, about how black people are treated in white environments. Check it out and please, let's keep checking ourselves!

mbira

Sweet mbira music,

Lull me into dreamland

Soothe my soul,

Like gentle waves on the sand

Sleepless nights, please remedy

Like softly falling raindrops

Upon the sea

Take me somewhere

I worry not of what will be

Take me somewhere

There is no need to plea

Take me somewhere

Where I am free

Free from these walls

Society has built

Lay over me

Like a warm, heavy quilt

Speak to my heart

Show me the way

Show me the way

Ndizarurire