Beauty of the SUN

I feel different today. I feel motivated. I don’t want to go back to that job. Im concerned about my mother the whole while I’m there. I’ve never really worked for anyone. I’ve always worked for myself when I was active. It feels so unnatural sitting in front of that computer when I’m there.

I was reading one of Mitchell’s post (The Light Is On) where he mentioned writing in a style different than what he normally writes. That made me think about doing the same. I haven’t been serious about my writing since I’ve been here on WordPress.

i jot down poems or write about experiences because I have no one to talk to but I haven’t done anything serious or of substance. I love writing. I wrote a children’s book about my daughter and self published it eighteen years ago. I wrote a couple of autobiographies after going through hell with the justice system, a self help manual after starting my own business titled “Will Your Success” because I wanted to share with others how easy it could be to invest in yourself.

I always wanted to put together a journal of my dreams because they fascinate and entertain me so, and after living a nightmare entangled in the healthcare system, I wanted to write about experiences to help others avoid the nightmare or be better prepared to withstand one.

So maybe I’ll take writing seriously and work hard to focus my attention on writing with substance for humanity. Maybe I can find refuge there. Maybe I can bask in the beauty of the Sun there. Maybe I can reinvent myself and become acquainted with that someone that I lost some time ago…well, maybe

A Man Is What He Thinks: James Allen

Interpreters often collect fragments of text to illustrate and reinforce points that they wish to make. In Allen’s hands, this particular fragment becomes comprehensive. It “not only embraces the whole of a man’s being, but is so comprehensive as to reach out to every condition and circumstance of his life. A man is literally what he thinks…This becomes the basis for Allen’s insistence that the way to change your life is to change your thought. 

The eclectic base on which he makes his case is clear when he turns almost immediately from familiar Judeo-Christian territory to quote Edwin Arnold’s verse version of the Buddha’s teaching:

“Thought in the mind hath made us. What we are / By thought was wrought and built. If a man’s mind / Hath evil thoughts, pain comes on him as comes / The wheel the ox behind … / If one endure in purity of thought, joy follows him / As his own shadow–sure.”

But it is worth noting that Allen does not present this as some sort of effortless or magical wish fulfillment.  He wraps it securely in the Enlightenment tradition of reason. “Man, ” he says, “is a growth by law, and not a creation by artifice, and cause and effect is as absolute and undeviating in the hidden realm of thought as in the world of visible and material things.”

As a popular writer, Allen seeks to do some of the things that academic writers are doing at just about the same time–extending the rule of law to every corner of the universe, including the human mind, making every corner of the universe, including the human mind, susceptible to rational investigation. Allen is confident that the universe is governed by reason, that this means every effect may be traced to a cause, and that rational reflection on effects will enable individuals to cause the effects they desire. 

Born: Runaway

We were now in North Carolina. I found an apartment for me and the kids. I was glad to be in a new environment away from it all. It was a fresh start for us. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how serious my injuries were until the flashbacks began. I would have nightmares where I would wake up crying out for help. I was unaware that I was starting to isolate myself along with my children. I didn’t want to be around people. I felt like a target. I was convinced that we were being watched and even followed.

My state wouldn’t allow me to feel safe in my home. It caused me to move frequently. I felt bad for my kids having to move from school to school, but I couldn’t help how I was feeling. It was the only way to keep them safe. Nevertheless, I knew I had to forgive my attackers for what they had done to me. I thought that would help me to heal. I just wanted to be able to function for my kids and myself.

Making matters worse, I lost my dad in 2009. This was really hard for me because our relationship had never been what I had hoped for, and now the opportunity was gone. Then, I met Neil. He was young, smart, and hard working. He helped me to take my mind off of my past while brightening my present. In the beginning, our relationship was strictly professional, but the more we were around one another, the more attracted we started to become.

At first, I felt uncomfortable about being older than he was. I couldn’t even bring myself to go see a movie with him. As we grew closer, the uneasiness faded. After we had been dating for a few months, he met the kids. I thought he was my knight. Later, I decided he wasn’t. Things started to change. He became frustrated because he couldn’t understand what I was going through and his behavior was drastic. He rejected affection and became physically abusive, cold, and vindictive.

Holding a job was a struggle for me due to my ongoing issues. I cried many days and nights because I felt sorry for my kids having me as their mother. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I was worthless. Many times I felt like breaking down, but I knew I was all they had and they needed what little was left of me. I found my refuge in the book of Proverbs. I would read a proverb three times a day. I was fighting to hold on to my sanity and my family. My heart was breaking and I was desperate for help.

Back home my mama wasn’t doing well. Her health was failing along with other major problems. I wanted her to come to North Carolina with me but she wouldn’t. I was now in a position where I had to choose between my well-being and the well-being of my mama. I swallowed my fear and headed back to the hell that I had longed to escape. 

Heroes: Master Of The Head

Sitting on the edge of my bed entertained by silence

thoughts running circles around my head from the memories of violence

tears start a stream down my face after identifying with Ida Bell’s place

I was inspired after reading how Sojourner won her child’s freedom

Then I lost myself in portraits of the Harriets that illustrated the definitions of fearlessness and honor

Master of the Head, Warrior that won’t be misled

The Hunt: A Place Called Home

The letter finally came.  I couldn’t open it.  I began counseling myself.  I thought of others who had suffered as I had and those who had suffered worse.  I thought of the ones whose lives had been taken.  I then began to feel fortunate regardless of my scars.  That was the answer that I needed.  I opened the letter.

As expected, the writ was denied.  I smiled reassuring myself that the battle was over and that I had gained my victory.  It was time to move on.  My mother’s health was gradually deteriorating forcing me to face my fear and move back to Damnville.  I had nothing left.  My kids and I moved in with my mother and stepfather.  I had not shared a residence with my mother in twenty years, it was everything that I didn’t expect it to be.

We lived out of my truck.  I was online looking for work everyday or as often as I possibly could.  I was looking outside of Damnville because coming back had proven itself to be a mistake.  We even tried staying at a shelter.  Things had gotten so bad that my son and I spent a night in the truck with no money, no phone, and no one to call.  I thought I would cry but there was no time for feeling sorry for myself.  I was disgusted for being such a terrible decision maker and failure to my children.

Morning came and I noticed an old friend walking pass.  I stopped him and asked if we could come to his place until I found somewhere for us to go.  That was hard because I’ve never liked to burden others with my problems.  He welcomed us to stay for the night.  After showering and eating we were comforted by a bed.  My son asked, “Is this our bed Mama?”  Fighting the tears, I kissed him on his puggy cheek and told him that it was for the night.  I woke up at four that morning thinking about my girls.  I was torn from being separated from them.

I started making calls desperately.  I found our rescue in the country.  I wanted Jonah to feel like we were going on an exciting adventure so I sang cheerful songs to comfort him while we were driving as I was crumbling inside.  He was excited to see the country.  I couldn’t relax or ease my troubled mind.  I needed to be with my girls and they needed me.  After being there for a few days we were back on the road.  We ended up back at my mama’s house, but not for long.  My sister reminded me of an abandoned house that belonged to my father.

The house needed work but it more than suited our need.  We went to work.  Words can’t explain the satisfaction and joy that we felt by being together again.  A new begin, with all thanks to my dearest FRIEND.

Blood and Water: Cinderella

Why would you adopt a child if you are not going to love and care for them like your own?  My mama was supposedly rescued from her biological mother when she was barely two weeks old.  She was taken in by a woman who already had two children that she had given birth to, along with four stepchildren.  That’s alot. 

I heard many different stories growing up about the functions and disfunctions of the extended family.  In the beginning I thought my grandmother really loved children and thats why she welcomed so many in her home.  As the years rolled on I started to think different. 

My mama was talked down on.  But she was the one called if someone was in trouble or needed help, and she was always there.  I guess she started drinking before she had me because her drinking is a dominating, early, memory.  She was the bad guy when I was a child because of the  behavior that accompanied the drinking.

Today I see different.  Today I see her as a young girl and woman suffering alone in a cold world.  I see her offering love but not receiving any in return.  I see someone who transformed sadness into madness.  Someone dealing with so much pain they were laced with insane.

 I guess sometimes time/love isn’t enough.  For some, if one does not have the same DNA, they will never be accepted or considered family.  Many times creating a social outcast, a personality disorder, addictive behaviors, or maybe even a monster.

How did that affect you Mama?  Were you hurt and didn’t know what to do?  Is that what caused you to hurt me too?  You never would say, still you dont til this very day. 

You were wild while you were young.  You are the image of strong.  Your life has been rough.  But it only made you tough.  Regardless of the craziness… for me… your love is enough 

Born A Woman: Pain

This time was different.  The nurse needed to see him about something.  She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he told me that he had to pay more.  It was more painful than before.  The pain was so unbearable that it caused me to pass out during the procedure.

After it was over we went back to his house in Lynchburg instead of him taking me home.  He dropped me off and left.  I was bleeding like a fountain and in a lot of pain but my heart was the heaviest.  I promised myself that day that I would never do that again.  I had never felt that alone.

I stayed there for the rest of the week and he surprised me with a car.  I wasn’t excited about the car, but I faked it as best as I could.  I drove home that day.

Born A Woman: A Different World

Life had changed.  I went from being at home hungry with my mama, freezing in the winter, bleeding in the summer, to having whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it.  I was no longer sensible and easily convincible.  I yielded from moral to material principle. 

Life was now better for us.  My family was always a priority for me.  I had almost forgotten that I signed myself into the Air Force.  I was scheduled to leave June second, nineteen ninety-four.  The time had come.  I didn’t want to go.  The only reason I signed up was to try to help my mama who was struggling to keep a roof over our heads.  Things were different now.  Regardless, I had to go.

June first, I spent the whole day with family.  This would be my second time leaving home, it was hard, but not as hard as the first.  My mama cried the whole time.  I arrived at Lackland seventeen years old, the youngest in my squadron, Flight W-100.

Most nights many of the girls would gather around my bed as I read a few verses from the Bible.  It helped to ease the sadness that I was feeling.  Meanwhile, I made a friend from Saint Croix who was more like a sister.  During tough times I was her shoulder and she was mine.

Dreams Visions Signs Visits: Intro

Dreams have always fascinated and amazed me from as far back as I can remember.  They carry you places beyond the imagination and are usually complex or not easily understood.

As a child, I acquired certain fears due to unfamiliar encounters.  I would be anxious to share my experience with others with hopes of getting a reaction or explanation.  The people I was around didn’t have any interest in my dreams and felt that it was unusual  that I did, until I was eleven.  

It was then that I had a dream that was more like a prediction.  The prediction caused me to realize that dreams weren’t just adventures and nightmares.  Maturity helped me to pay closer attention to dreams and accept them as messages and signs from a power far greater than mine… then came the visits.

Born A Woman: Intro

If  I had one wish

I know what it would be

I would enjoy the child 

The World never got the chance to see