jonubian

Archive for the ‘Contemplations’ Category

Word Wisdom

In Commentary, Contemplations, Words on August 19, 2009 at 5:34 pm

Words without thoughts never to heaven go ~ Shakespeare

I apologize for neglecting you all, as somehow, twitter has become my new blogspot. I attribute my frequent, sometimes ten in a row, tweets to my Muse grabbing hold of me and not relinquishing control until I am able to fully commit her words to the universe. Her words, like those of Djehuty (Toth in Greek), must be pronounced in that moment.

Djehuty is the Kemetic Neter (God) considered to be Ra’s heart and tongue, and the only Neter that can translate His will. The Greek translation of his name is believed by Kemetologist to be where the word thought originates.  Africans, and yes Kemet-Egypt is a part of Africa, have always understood the power in the translation of thoughts through the words we speak, write, and commit into being. In short, our words become our essence and our actions.

Do you not believe me? Take a moment to view Dr. Masura Emoto’s study concerning the crystalization of water. In part of his experiement glasses of water were exposed to negative and positive words. The water in the glasses crystalized differently, with the negative words creating dark sludge-like crystalizations.  If negative and positive words can affect water in such a manner, imagine how they can affect the heart of men.

Part of the reason that I chose writing and literature as a focus of my academic studies, and the reason that I write poetry, live my life on twitter, and bother you all with my blogs, is because I feel a close and personal attachment to word transmission (I include written and spoken words in this definition).  Words affect me deeply and concretely, and my latest life lesson has been to realize that others do not share this same connection.  We are socialized to believe that words can never hurt us, which is one of the greatest fallacies propagated as cruel words leave the deepest scars and are the hardest to heal from. By that same standard, kind words can deliver us, resurrect us, and free us; even if only from ourselves- which is why we prosper from self-affirmation.

Beautiful ones- I said all of that to say, choose you words wisely as they create the person you are.  Also realize the positive and negative words you say form and transform others; it is a very cumbersome but honest realization.

Sade beautifully illustrates my thoughts of today in her song “Every Word”. Enjoy…

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Justice for Jada

In Commentary, Contemplations on June 26, 2009 at 10:51 pm

jada-justice-2

(Jada- may she be better cared for above than she was below.)

 

‘Children are the reward of life.’

It is the Congolese Proverb that we chose as the theme for our shower when Nailah was born. Nailah, my now rambunctious three year old daughter, was born prematurely at six months- weighing only 17 ounces.  I went to the hospital every day during those four months; pumping breast milk, praying, holding, hoping that my belief in her and God would not falter. I gave her every ounce of love I had within me, knowing that nothing but love would bring both of us through. One day after leaving the hospital, I witnessed a woman verbally abusing her small children, and me distinctly wanting to strangle her. In that moment I gathered that those feelings were probably attributed the stress of trying to keep my breast milk flowing, or the exhaustion of trekking through those hospital corridors everyday. In hindsight though, I realize that it was the fact that I, who had done everything I could to have a healthy baby, had one who was clinging to life, and she, who had healthy children, was berating them because they moved too much in their chairs. It wasn’t at all fair.  I recall vividly my mother telling me that life isn’t fair or filled with justice, so I might as well get used to it.  No truer words have been spoken.  I knew then, even in my anger, that we live in an absurd world where fairness is about as absent as clarity. My mother’s words and my work at answering all of the “how comes” in life have yet to erase the faces of those poor babies or that encounter.

Fast forward to June 16, 2009, I sat reading an article about a missing child, Jada Justice, who had allegedly gone missing while left unattended on the side of a gas station in an unlocked car at 9:30 pm.  I immediately became emotionally attached to the story because in one of the photos provided Jada resembled Nailah.  As the days passed, I heard less and less about her. The SC Governor- yes, Neda- yes, but no Jada. I watched Nancy Grace, whom I somewhat despise because of her failure to report on the cases of missing black and brown children, and found nothing past one mention of her.  Finally, in the midst of hearing of the passing of Michael Jackson, I read that Jada’s body was found.  The emptiness that I felt within my spirit, well, I can’t seem to adequately pronounce or articulate it. I think I have been holding my daughter nearly to the point of suffocation since I read the news.

Somehow, I feel that we failed to protect Jada. She was neglected, obviously, both in her life and in her death, but she is not the only one.  Mainstream media neglects to adequately report on our children who are missing, abused, or murdered.  I consider Caylee Anthony and the amazing news reports that meticulously guided us through the search for her, and even her mother’s trial after it was determined that she obviously murdered her daughter.  I dare you to search the two names and witness the difference in available information regarding the two girls. The search results should at least sour your stomach, if you are strong enough to subdue regurgitation.

I want justice for Jada, probably to the point of forming a group of vigilantes to avenge her death.  I would also like to have street fights with whomever chooses the news stories that are produced in these mainstream media outlets.  The rage that is conjured from hopelessness is more than likely the strongest rage that one can possess, I figure, and can turn a kind intellectual into a mad-woman.  In the least, I can pass on Jada’s story and shed light on the not-so alarming, not-so new trend of neglecting to report on our children:

http://bit.ly/7OOhJ      Jada’s story

http://bit.ly/rXOzj         Missing Black children get less media coverage.

http://bit.ly/15jXoN     What color is that baby?

http://bit.ly/AsoDi         Where is Jada? Missing Black girl ignored…

Kiss your(or someones) babies tonight and pray for Jada’s family. Along with doing those two things I also plan to wish upon a star that there is a special place in hell for the people who abuse, abduct, and murder children, and those who make conscious choices not to report such events.

I am sick to have to add an update to this post, however the following article outlines the details of Jada’s murder. I really have no other words.

http://twitthis.com/vyeuks

 

Change

In Contemplations on June 2, 2009 at 5:21 pm

All that you touch
You Change.

All that you Change
Changes you.

The only lasting truth
Is Change.

God
Is Change.

This wonderful mantra was borrowed from EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING and is featured in the beginning of Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower . I am extremely excited about reading this book as I understand it deals directly with change and, at this very moment, I am burgeoning on change and transition. As a scorpion, my ability to channel the phoenix and rise from the ashes has been a blessing to my struggles through this beautiful life. But this current change feels as if it will be the greatest of my life. I am both comatose and antsy, running in place, hurrying up to wait… But alas the only lasting truth is change, therefore I must acquiesce. We can not allow our fears to stop our progress. And me constantly wondering if my current choices are the right ones, only proves that they probably are not. We should not have to constantly contemplate our states of being.

I must add this amazing James Baldwin quote, because… well…he’s just amazing.

Most of us are about as eager to be changed as we were to be born, and go through our changes in a similar state of shock.