My holy day

Of the days of the year I love the most, I think the last day of the year going into the next day/year is my favorite. It's a time of reflection, projection, visioning, imaging and breathing. Yes, breathing. Taking in the lessons I learned throughout the year, positivity, love, peace, all that I want for the next year, in. Pain, bruises, mistakes, bad memories, the past I don't choose to carry into the future, out.

Right now I am thankful for life, my health, my family and friends, especially my son. I am thankful for the powerful bond and love that exists with us. I am thankful I can kiss his cheeks while he sleeps. Thankful for the morning walks we share. I am thankful that he is someone I would want to know even if we weren't related.

New Year's Eve is not a time I usually spend at a party or celebrate with alcohol and loud noises. I love to spend this time quietly with the people I love. Even when I can't physically be with those I love the most I have them in my thoughts and prayers. I spend this time in positive thought, prayer, laughter, poetry, art, forgiveness. I spend this time thanking God for the blessing of life. I spend this time loving me.

Coming soon... Me with Spener Allen

Been trying to set up a time to have a conversation with fellow poet, Spencer Allen for this blog. The holidays, oh the holidays. The busy, the busy, the changing, the scheduling and rescheduling. It's all good though because Spencer has been way cool about it.

We were gonna meet last night after a Kwanzaa show I performed in. "I talked to the host to see if I could go up early. She said it was cool so I'll meet you at the bakery in about an hour or so." My text to him. An hour later he left the bakery around the corner and met me in Leimert Park where I was scheduled to perform. Three hours later, the host called me up.

"Let's get together tomorrow evening for an hour, Spencer."

"Cool."

Today I was with my son and others and in the run around of today so we rescheduled until after the new year rolls on through. But for real yall, Mewith Spencer, coming soon.

My two cents

Last night someone said to me "If you want your grandchildren to know you, write a book." My thought in response to that was, create a blog. That was the purpose of this blog. I've said it before, I wanted a way to reach out to my family long after I am gone. I want cousins and grandchildren and of course my son to know the quirks and poems, stories and musings I care to present.

After my grandmother passed away in 1997 I got her journal. It's one of my favorite possessions. It's not really a journal so much as notes she took on certain days. Nothing too emotionally revealing. On one day she wrote something about my mom bringing me over to her house and I kept crying. She jotted down meetings and things like that. So, not really the Dear Diary type stuff, but it's enough for me to be honored holding her thoughts. Holding her perfect cursive.

I also have my Uncle Bubba's writings. My Uncle Therman had the great insight to type his words and send copies to the family. I posted some of his pages on this blog. If you haven't already, please read. They are called "From my Uncle Bubba's journal" or something like that.

Why is it important? Well, to me leaving our words for future generations is a way that they can connect with us. A way even that they can learn more about themselves. I have a way that I operate under stress that I may have inherited from a great great grandmother or someone. Or medical issues we have that could date back farther than even our grandparents are aware of. We also carry fears that we have inherited. Fears and concerns that are not ours, but that have been passed down for generations. Fears that may not even be valid in our times but we hold onto them like we own them. Like we created them.

I'm laughing now to myself of course, because I couldn't even go into the next paragraph because I kept looking up and noticing the dirt on my rug. The lent that was driving me crazy! So I had to stop. Pick up each annoying piece before I could continue. It's funny (not in a good way funny, but weird funny) how my room in disorder affects me. I get itchy, incredibly sad, lose energy. Now, it doesn't stop me because I'm aware of this about me and I just get into action about getting it in order. It would be interesting to know if there were others in my family who had this same...thing. You know, what's also weird about this is that it's only my own space in disarray that drives me crazy. I can function comfortably in someone else's home, office, space in whatever way it is. Somehow, in my analyzing, their inner space isn't connected to my mental well being, but mine is. When my home is a mess, so are my thoughts.

Ok, this blog wasn't meant to turn into an episode on my self diagnosed ocd, but it makes me wonder about great aunts, great great grandmothers, grandfathers. Now, does this answer why keeping journal or blog or writing a book is important? No, but it answers it enough for me. These are my thoughts for the world but most importantly for my son. For his children. For future artists who will ride the roller coaster I have ridden and fallen off of and gotten back on and bruised myself and have succeeded and have had good and bad and good times. This is for me.

Hustle U!

It's been exactly one month since my last post. I don't like to take breaks that long between posts but, it happens sometimes. I hope that you all had a happy holiday and are treating yourselves well today.

I woke up this morning listening to Brother Hotep who is the C.E.O. of Hustle University. Please visit his website, www.hustleuniversity.org. I'm loving it. He talks about how to hustle you! (yourself). I won't go into too much detail but again, please visit the site.

It's raining again in Los Angeles. We have been experiences a great cleaning the past two weeks. I'm loving that too.

Enjoy you today

Colors

I let it go. Wrote, stayed up, slept too late, prayed, ate, didn't eat, prayed, created art, wrote bad poetry (and not bad meaning good, the for real bad). Went through the stages of grief, and then...I let the anger go. No wonder my favorite color for the moment is sky blue and not the red is was before.

Back from Utah

I thank God I had a safe journey from Utah to California. I am preparing to go for my morning walk now. Such beautiful sun shine. The snow was great but this is well...home.

From Zora Neale Hurston's HOW IT FEELS TO BE COLORED ME

"But I am not tragically colored. There is not great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. I do not belong to the sobbing school of Negrohood who hold that nature somehow has given them a lowdown dirty deal and whose feelings are all hurt about it. Even in the helter-skelter skirmish that is my life, I have seen that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation more or less. No, I do not weep at the world - I am too busy shaprening my oyster knife."

Reading

Just finished reading Amy Tan's SAVING FISH FROM DROWNING. Amy is my Chinese homegirl. She doesn't know it. But she is.

That's what reading is. That's what books do. They expose us to world's and lives we would not know except through those pages. It is our blessing to give back, I think, our own stories. Our own well written stories.

Leaving Utah

I had a wonderful time in Salt Lake City, Utah. I spent Thanksgiving last night with many talented folks at the home of Dr. Samuels. We ate, drank, shared and laughed.

I'm leaving tonight to go back to Los Angeles. Much work to do. Looking forward to coming back next year to Utah.

Dear Uraeus, Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful for my life and the people and things in it. Thankful for my family and friends. Thankful for my home, for food, shelter, thankful for peace. Uraeus, I am thankful for you. My favorite person.

Mom

Their nobody's business love

He sold drugs
People bought and used them
He loved her
She loved him too
He cheated
She cheated

She sold sex
People bought it
She wanted him
He wanted her

Two bedroom apartment in the city
One room for their stuff
One room for their love

He sold drugs
She sold sex
Together

Later
It got to be
More complicated
Than that

Dear Venus

I have soooooo been loving your photos on your website and on your Facebook page. Thank you for sharing your awesome gift with the world!

To anyone else reading this: For a good time visit www.venusbernardo.com

Love you,

Jaha