God grant me the serenity....

As I sit here, contemplative of this life I am currently living, the serenity prayers seems to ring volumes in my ears right now. I'm growing up - in my relationship with God, and this is the first time I have been able to really see that. As an adolescent, I used to break out in the worst hives, a clear sign that I was anxious for something to happen or a change to come. My body's way of responding to undue pressure and stress I placed on it. This was a clear indication that I needed to stop and force myself to calm down. And for most people this would be a simple task. However, I can remember it taking me more than an hour to actually see the hives disappear. How can a kid so young and innocent be so confused and worried about this outside of his control?

Well this carried over into adulthood, though my body's physical response is very different. Weirdly enough, a few months back I had a hives outbreak. And it literally scared me to sleep. When I awoke from the emotional fatigue, I prayed the serenity prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

What a difficult prayer to pray! For a worrier like myself, someone who is constantly processing events and outcomes, this prayer is almost mental/spiritual suicide. It casts me in a position to forsake a natural part of me, the faithless part. But, at that moment, I needed to be free of worry. 100% faithful that if God promised to take care of my problems for me, then all I needed to do was wait on him. Such a powerful prayer. 

So, as of 2010, I'm living each day in its appropriate context and taking the woes of life just for what they are. There's a song that says, "Weeping may endure for a night, Keep the faith and it will be alright - Trouble don't last always!" Well, I'm actually trusting that God's going to cause the increase in my life. I need him to do so. I need change. 

And so i will continue to pray that prayer because right now, it's all I have. I'm looking for growth in every area of my life so that I can rise above the issues and enter into this next phase with God before me. 

Till next time. 

WHO DAT!

Addiction to the Spotlight

My first stage appearance was at the age of 12. I made the conscious decision that I wanted to earn the $5 prize saved for one of the kids who could "second line" with the most heart - a daunting task for an introverted kid whose smile was once that only signal that I was even alive. Prior to this moment, I enjoyed being a kid who relaxed in the quiet recesses of my bedroom, reading and drawing and listening to the rain cascade across my window during those rainy summer New Orleans months. See, I was my momma's baby boy - even at 12 years of age. I stuck close by and only ventured out to explore the world in the safety of my backyard. But at this very moment, something changed inside of me. I no longer gave into the urge to hide or fade into the shadow of my mom's extreme personality. I wanted to dance. I wanted to earn the five dollars. I wanted to take a chance in the spotlight. So I did. My feet and body moved to a beat so drunkenly that I forgot about everyone watching me. All I heard were the yells and screams of applause. The room went dark leaving but the sounds of trumpets and tubas to paint a rich color of joy and happiness in my world. I was hooked. When I came to, I saw my mother's face. She wore a smile that only a son could want to see. She approved - greatly. And though she was shocked to see her "baby" perform, a part of her smirk showed that she knew this star was there all along. I had earned those $5.

I absolutely loved the attention however, something changed. There was a difference in me that I would not come to recognize until almost another 12 years had passed.

Over those years, I became calculated, purposeful and split. In times where I felt threatened to have to return to the shadow of some overwhelming personality, I put on my performing mask and became larger than life! I can remember everyone at prom being completely surprised that to see me center floor, "letting go." The class valedictorian, the nerd, the reserved football player... completely showing out. And then the applause came. It was like a high. I got dizzy with the euphoria of my celebration and ended the night a tired, sweaty yet popular mess. I couldn't have asked for better days.

But then we get to college. As I had matured, the spotlight did as well. No longer did I need the be center stage in a physical way but now my need for the spotlight had become something even more different than what I expected. I became everything for everybody - each person providing me with a platform to be their personal performer. I joined too many organizations and neglected myself in the process. They needed me... Only I could do the job they needed done. Or so I thought. I was stretched so thin that every part of me performed for everybody all the time and I gained nothing from it.

Well, Michael Jackson isn't the only star to pay a great price for extreme stardom. I got to a point where I collapsed. I physically collapsed. My body and mind were in disjunctive state where I tried to keep going but my career as a performer needed to come to a fast end. See, what I didn't mention is that being a performer means certain things: everyone drinks when you drink; your car is the designated vehicle - no one gives gas money and no one never asked to do so; you roll with folks outside of your income bracket to preserve the fake perception that you have it all - I mean, what pics could the paparazzi take if I wasn't "doing the most." Well, aside from the financial, spiritual, emotional and physical burden the spotlight can place on you, it is simply too hard a lifestyle to maintain. Something's got to give - and usually that something happens to be extremely important.

Well, I've learned my lesson and I have been spotlight free for the past 2-3 years. I'm on a 12 step program requiring that I love myself first and that I build priorities in my life that will chastise the activities with which I involve myself. I have learned to re-appreciate the reader, and artist within me. I have learned to build a balance between both parts of my personality so that I am not swayed in any one way. So here I am, a 26 year old paying more than the $5 I earned as a 12 year old - a hard lesson that I will take with me in these next 12 years of life.

The spotlight is nice but there's a reason that you stand in it alone.

A man distanced from God....

I am a poet with a limited vocabulary. The waters of my river run against gravity. I am consistently reconciling my thoughts in order to avoid insanity. I am a christian who struggles with his salvation. 

I've never known the truest love of my father. He's been a financial backing for me which has been great but I am heatedly envious of my friends who have their fathers as active participants in their lives. Mine loves me. I know he does. He was just never conditioned to express love so he does not know how. I inherited the backlash of this. 

America has oversensationalized the "single-mother" success story. And while I applaud mother's who can raise their children alone, I am a fervent believer that it takes two complete parents to raise a child. I find that even friends who are raised with both parents can have a father who is so dejected from emotional display that it feels like he really isn't in the home. So, how am I distanced from God and how does this tie in with the family unit? Glad you asked! 

Think about it. Young men who have fathers that are very emotionally expressive and who model strong fatherly behavior are more likely to fully understand the love of a "male" God who wants and has everything good thing in store. And while my father is there financially, I consider myself a product of a single parent household. So to understand or believe that there is a man, a God who has my best interest at heart is like asking me to speak French to a Portuguese woman with the intention on her understanding me. Its difficult. I believe the church has missed it. We focus on "getting black boys off the streets" but do they truly understand that why these boys can find solace and peace as a part of a gang but not find faith in the love of a fathering God. I believe its a simple examination of an even simpler phenomenon. Fatherless boys are less apt to believe in a Fathering God because they have never had a tangible example to see as a model. At least that is the case for me. I struggle - Lord knows I struggle with this.  Sometimes it brings me to tears just to believe that a man could love me like God does. Its such a new feeling. Its fresh and invigorating and it makes me relieved to know that maybe I wasn't cursed with having an emotionally vacant father. But then there are times when I simply don't understand it. I can't wrap my mind around how or WHY a God would want to take care of me or love me or have high hopes for me because I am so removed from the environment where these are possibilities. I am not sure that I will ever figure it out. Or that I want to. But I do know that if I need to grow in faith and eliminate the distance I feel was innately created between myself and God, then I need to get to the root of all this. UGH!!! 

I can't wait to start writing this book. I need to examine this deeper.

Frustrated

I've been lied to. Or maybe some major details were withheld from me. However, either way, I feel as though I've lost someone's words in translation or someone has a vendetta out against my happiness. This is the deal:

Every since I can remember, I've always been told to "Go to college, graduate, and watch the world unfold before your eyes." So i took my mother on her word and did just that. And you know what, the old bird wasn't wrong... Or at least I thought she wasn't. See I have made some assumptions around the latter part of that promise my mom made. "...Watch the world unfold before your eyes" seemed to mean that if I built a stable life for myself, I would be guaranteed companionship and love and care. Well, I sit here today a 26 year old single man. I did my fair share of trolluping back in undergrad and the later years of high school. I dated several girls at the same time, broke many hearts in the process and fertilized an egg that only had a few months of life before his mother decided she didn't want to receive her degree with a "fat belly." Granted I was 17 at the time, so who knows how a kid would have affected my world. 

(Back to the topic) 

So where's my wife, house, 2 1/2 kids, and german shepherd? I currently have a condo and 3 degrees. Something went wildly wrong with that promise of a world unfolding. Maybe she meant, the world would unfold in the areas of monetary gain and social status ONLY. I would have appreciated it if she were more specific. Or maybe I've  interpreted that saying incorrectly - just looking for a scapegoat to hide my own personal issues with why I haven't become a domesticated human being, Ugh... I just don't know. I've prayed for understanding and all I get it this intense sense of loneliness. And as I step into school for another 4 years, this is the only thing I can foresee in my future - loneliness. AND IT HAS ME FRUSTRATED. Maybe I should let it go - let things take their natural course. But I am human damnit. I'm tired of being the guy who has to be so calm and rational about life, never truly releasing his sincerest feelings about what things are going on in his life. Well, I'm frustrated and lonely. And I have tried to put my heart out there but I feel like because I have been so stoic for so long that I behave like that 17 year old again unable to NOT get attached or fall hard. 

Luckily I was built from a different type of material... something strong, unique and resilient. I'll figure this out eventually. But right now, I just need to vent. 

Caramel dudes need love too. damn.

I wasn't built to break....

I've always wondered about my parents intentions in raising me like they did. In an attempt to give me an easier life, I now have a series of character traits that don't fit well into the scheme of true success. This is not to say that I am not appreciative of the life they provided me with. My mother was the absolute best example of tolerance and understanding I could have ever had. My father inadvertently showed me the importance of working hard, that the world will eat out your hand if its coated with the sweetest nectar of persistence. But still, these traits. Some people might call them flaws. I just don't see it that way. Nevertheless, there are ways of which I have become cognizant that feed directly into this marginalized behavior. For example, it took me a conscious effort to commit to being to places punctually. In the past, I just didn't give a shit. I would show up late - hours late and expect people to understand. This was until i found out that constant tardiness is rooted in self-image issues. I was conceited beyond belief. If they were my friends, then they'll wait. That was my attitude. But how backwards is that?! If I am their real friend, then I wouldn't make them wait. Too bad it took me all four years of my collegiate life to develop a true sense of care and value in others' time, thus alleviating myself of this trait. And there are others. Other traits that make me cringe at the thought - but most I carry out as a result of some personal philosophy I was taught as a child or adopted along the way without any redirection.

So in Alpha, we are told that whatever good qualities you want to have, weave them in. Start practicing. But what do we do with the qualities that don't fit into our success model? This is where I get deeply confused. I am not trying to perfect myself by any means, but if I am going to walk into this next phase of my life truly wanting to help others, then i need to have traits in me that can genuinely help manage this process.

Maybe I've put too much thought into this. Still, better off proactive than not!

My soul is made of water

At seven years of age, I recall standing on my back porch, looking out into the darkness of still overcast. A few droplets of the coolest water also softly nestled my tongue as it protruded from my mouth. I was an interesting kid. The thunder began to roar, upsetting the bushel of birds that nested in the crevices of my home's roof. They seemed to understand this better than I could. Then, it happened. Those droplets became more frequent and consistent, a rush similarly felt by onlookers who watch marathon races proceed through a certain area. I was intrigued. Fearful. Respectful. Amazed. Winds started to blow the trees in a wayward fashion while their leaves submitted under the pressure.

I can remember looking up in the sky and asking God, if he would honor my wish one day, to please give me control over the weather. Strange, yes? But in that child's mind, I understood that power rested in the quiet force that, if necessary, could change into a massive, untamed monster - but those times were seldom. I have felt a crazy connection with the rain ever since.

Now, as an adult, on days like this, my body starts to respond to the sultry psalm of peace and quietude sung by the rain and winds. I can't control it. I want to crawl up under my sheets and just listen to the sweet music created by this gentle goddess. So, that's exactly what I am going to do.

Good night. I have to honor the child inside.

One step too fast

An elderly man, having lived alone for many years after the passing of his wife, had an epiphany about his life and wanted to flee his farm. Beautiful bushels of the greenest trees adorned every acre of the farm land, bearing fruit in abundance during harvesting season. Cows provided him with ample milk and meat to eat while his foul was plentiful enough to build a balanced diet. He literally had no want. The farmer, however, sat discontent with his possessions. Everyday, the farmer would wake, adorn himself in overalls, and head out to the mailbox, which sat just down the beautiful bricked path extending from his front door steps to the farm gate. He would collect his mail and hurry inside to read the letters from several of his friends, who, in the past months, had begun to  mention excellent opportunities for buying newer, more sophisticated homes in the nearby city - this was fuel to the farmer's need for change. He felt it was time. His wife's death had placed him in a great depression and for this, he wanted to get away. But he wasn't sure that it was his time. Nevertheless, the farmer kept his daily routine and each day he crafted out a plan that would eventually get him to the big city. Finally, one day, looking around at his beautiful home, the farmer thought this was the time and soon he would make preparations to leave. That night, the farmer tossed and turned in his sleep, hearing his wife's voice begging him to cherish those things they had worked so hard to build. The farmer awoke in tears, afraid of what his next steps might be. Nevertheless, his early morning trip to the mailbox reignited his need for change. The farmer decided tomorrow would be the day. He would pack up his essential belongings and head for the city. And that was exactly what he did. 

While in the city, he ran into several individuals, most of low moral fiber who were really hungry for opportunity. All he really wanted was to buy one of those new "lofts" that was described to him by his friends in the mail. The loud noises of the hustle and bustle of individuals rushing off to work mixed with the putrid fumes that cascaded out of every window of every nearby restaurant and business - these all made him nauseous. He wanted nothing more than to return home. After convincing himself that this place was just a minute semblance of a much bigger, more beautiful picture, the farmer headed to a nearby park bench to sit and reflect on his move. It was here, in the solitude of his thoughts did he see the error of his ways. The farmer had imagined glitz and glamour of the city life when in reality he had fallen victim to covetousness. Everything that was painted in his letters were simply that, portraits. His zest for life rested not in the spaces of some fictitious canvas of opportunity, but in the sweet smell of magnolia that caressed the early morning wind. It had always been the little things that he enjoyed. It was in this moment that he realized that he was dishonoring his wife, running away from her memory rather than appreciating the great times he had with her on their beautiful property. 


The man wept, packed his things and headed back to the only place he could ever call home. 


Recently, I feel like I was that man. Simply foolish about wanting what others have but not honoring my own passion for life and the place I call home. Well, I am giving it more thought, praying about it harder. It seems as though I am being pulled into the city like many of my counterparts. The difference for me is that I have work to do while I'm here. I find that its not the decisions that are hard to make but the consequences of them that are hard to live with. Well, guess what? I'm living with mine.