Cyclical Hunches

What are your beginning, middle, and end? This is how you unfortunately structure each blog and blah, blah, bl - oh hey guys. You snuck up on me! I was hoping you were some big corporation coming to swoop in on my blog and pay me millions to continue writing as these priceless memoirs can’t write themselves, but I guess not. Do you guys even remember me? Probably not, nonetheless, excuse the first sentence as I am trying to recall basic first steps to writing – you know, in order to keep my readers interested (ha!)

“Spill out everything onto the page,” they say. “Go for the jugular,” they say. Well, I’ve been missing in action for a while so here I go:

Today is a crappy day and I have a hard time focusing. I mean hard. I normally, no matter what, can just snap back into focus (especially if I am at work because I’m stone cold like that), but nope not today. A young lady named Sandra Bland is the topic or hash tag if you will. There is information about her coming in all at once. She was 28 from Chicago trying to move to Texas for a job. She’s dead now. Hearing this news led me to write. A lot of emotions are surging through me at rapid speeds after realizing she is dead and herein lies the thick of my anguish: I couldn’t catch her. Me - I couldn’t stop whatever happened to her. I would have had something amazing to say to stop the fate of a stranger, but I wasn’t there.

This was a journal entry from a while back that still rings poignant to me because it reminds me of why I fight for life and freedom so much. Machiavelli said it best when he wrote,“What am I here to reproduce at this time? I am only a figment of what has been to bring to the world something it has already seen just not in this particular timeline. What O’Lord am I to recreate that you so desperately need the world to see again? To remind us of what again? Please whisper loud enough for me to hear.” 

I’m unsure of the remarkable words that would have surfaced that day but trust me incredible was coming out. A trail of genius tends to slip out of my mind sometimes and what I want to say is too much to write down. Again, it probably would have been the most amazing crap I’ve ever thought but just too much to remember. A snapshot would be, “Look, like we’re all fucked anyway,” or something along those lines. “Capitalism is rotting this country. Black people don’t belong here, but we’ve been trying to belong for quite some time now. We’re all going to die,” yada, yada, yada – stuff like that. Maybe, “Read and utilize the past in order to shape, and understand the present.” Okay that isn’t me it’s Machiavelli, but seriously the advice would have been A1.

I hope to overly stress that in order to identify with yourself more you must identify with others. Try to stay alive, healthy, and sane in the process of identification, and in every situation give thanks. In every situation remember the situation before. Remember at one point you never really knew how the situation could or would change or when. Remember that it eventually did. Something happened one day, things shifted, and you slowly progressed into another part of your life.

Today I chose to identify with Sandra and let it be known that we’ve been stripped of our core ingredients (love, compassion, empathy, patience, forgiveness) for the all mighty dollar. I have to keep saying that until people start or realizing it. Being gone for so long has taught me how to stop correcting my intuition – not even slightly.

Enough

You don’t show it. You don’t do it. You don’t see them. You don’t see him. You don’t see her. You don’t say it. You don’t call. You don’t speak up. You don’t preach it. You don’t teach it. You don’t play it. You don’t ask it. You don’t read it. You don’t practice it. You don’t watch it. You don’t wear it. You don’t have it. You don’t make it. You don’t use it. You don’t write it. You aren’t doing.

Where's the list of what I’ve done. What I do. Where’s that list? Where’s the list of how I’ve been and what I’ve said. When I’ve showed it and when I saw? When I spoke up and when I preached? When I taught and when I read? When I practiced and when I played? When I watched and when I made? When I helped and when I shared? When I wore it and when I had it? When I used it and when I called? When I wrote? What I did do?

No one lives for the positive moments. No one even lives for the moment. We are too busy worrying about the lack there of; the times when something didn't happen instead of the times something did. Instead of holding onto that moment and letting that be the classic standard and overriding thought, instead of realizing that that good moment did happen, we revel in disparaging thoughts of things we feel are not enough. As supreme beings, we think very limited and we shouldn't - we are SUPREME. Unfortunately, we are supreme beings with no idea how to unlock the true, raw, and real potential in ourselves. We conceptualize the negative. We conceptualize the very opposite of what we are supposed to live for: greatness. When you start to openly magnify small instances of love and appreciation as they come forth spontaneously I believe that is when you truly do understand more than just the basics; when you truly do understand that it is enough.

"His insight refines him." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.