With Your Whole Heart With your whole heart be yourself see yourself as you truly are. With your whole heart speak your truth tell your story even if no one follows you. With your whole heart give of yourself love with a love that will never end. With your whole heart do not cower but keep fighting with heart and courage. With your whole heart see the beauty under the trembling rot of decay. With your whole heart know thyself and wield your weapon based on your art.
Tag: inspiration
A Place of My Own
What if there was a place that was all your own? A place that no one could invade at will, order for you or dictate what you could do. Finding a place of your own is often associated with your living situation. Moving to your own place shows your independence. However, sometimes, even after doing this we still have this burning desire to have a place of our own in this world. This could stem from feeling trapped in one or all areas of our lives. So we go on a quest to find that place.
Finding a place of our own takes many far and wide and along the way, some may get lost and are never heard from again. Some try to begin by looking back. Here, they may find the past a bitter pill to swallow and end up choking on their bile. So what to do but pretend, pretend as if we have the answers, know what to do, and make a mess on top of the mess we forgot or could not bring ourselves to clean up.
So is it that it is so hard to find that place? For many they spend their lives on that quest and end up going in circles, ending up where they began. But what if (hypothetical of course) we could cut through the noise that is this world and find our place? We would have to sift through too many things that do not matter but that now dominate our minds, heart and soul. We would have to let go of so many things to recapture our souls.
Now, this leads all the way back to each of us and guess what? It was always about us. That place we are trying to find required us to properly know ourselves. Trying to find something that was never lost now that is the joke because you knew all along with that that occupying that place was inside of you. You know the answers but they are too scary to contemplate, you have the plan but you seem frozen in that same place. You know you must come to terms with all of yourself and move outside of the world created for you by others who don’t really know or want to know you.
Finding a place of your own is half the work because first, you have to know who you want to be when you find that place.
“The Road of the Dread” A Metaphor for A Time Like This
I have always felt an affinity for this poem by Lorna Goodison. It is not only the language used that phonetically reflects the Jamaican dialect, inclusive of the famous Rasta talk that created this affinity. But more importantly, it is the fact that even though this poem was written in the 1980s, it still reflects the need for us to be resilient in the face of oppressive forces, whether tangible or intangible.
The “Dread” that walks this road represents many persons, many of us, who are faced with different challenges in this lifetime. We are faced with this seemingly endlessly obstacle course of a road that we must traverse – this is life. While a great deal of the focus is on this road, of interest too is the speaker, who has obviously experienced not just hardships but poverty and injustice:
Pan dis same road ya sista
“The Road of the Dread”
sometime yu drink yu salt sweat fi water
for yu sure sey at least dat no pisen,
and bread? yu picture it and chew it accordingly
and some time yu surprise fi know how dat full
man belly.
It is clear that the speaker could be classified as being a member of the Rastafari community in Jamaica based on the “Rasta talk”, but many of us can identify with the experiences of oppression in one form or another. This could be in the physical, spiritual or mental realm. We all have felt oppressed along this road called life. In the extract above the speaker hints at passed betrayals that have caused him or her to be cautious in how they interact with others in their present and future reality. But within this very somber reality is also resilience. The resilent nature built intoour DNA, forces us to use what we have – even if it is only our imagination to weave a reality that can ensure our survival. At the end of the day working through our struggles is an act of self-preservation. To weave this world that ensures we survive we have to leave our starting point, we have to travel the road of the dread.
This archetype of the oppressed must travel this road or fail in their pursuit to survive. So he travels. Along the road there are many challenges and life ensures we are gifted with them:
for sometime you pass a ting
you know as . . . call it stone again
and is a snake ready fi squeeze yu
kill yu
or is a dead man tek him
possessions tease yu.
Then the place dem yu feel
is resting place because time
before that yu welcome like rain,
go dey again?
But, is that all there is to it. Is life filled wth snakes hiding in the grass ready to attack? Is the road littered with disingenuous persons who mean one thing when their mouths utter honyed words to ensare us into a boiling pot of vinegar? Yes it sounds a bit dramatic but we know that there are unspeakable tragedies that one can encounter on this road, so be grateful if you have not.
The answers to the questions above are also reflected in the poem: no. We see a shift of focus from all the trauma and tragedies waiting on the road that compels us to continue moving on this journey no matter how hard it may seem:
Den why I tread it brother?
well mek I tell yu bout the day dem
when the father send some little bird
that swallow flute fi trill me
and when him instruct the sun fi smile pan me first.
And the sky calm like sea when it sleep
and a breeze like a laugh follow mi.
Or the man find a stream that pure like baby mind
and the water ease down yu throat
and quiet yu inside.And better still when yu meet another traveler
who have flour and yu have water and man and man
make bread together.
And dem time dey the road run straight and sure
like a young horse that cant tire
and yu catch a glimpse of the end
through the water in yu eye
I wont tell yu what I spy
but is fi dat alone I tread this road.
There are better days. On this journey there will be good times, when you can find joy in any situation at anytime. Where you can find hope pushing out of the soil, quivering relentlessly to thrive and flourish. When, like the speaker points out, “the father send some little bird that swallow flute fi trill me“, it is the little things that oftentimes matter and bring us back from the edge. We also see the importance of the spiritual as this “father” mentioned near the end of the poem,speaks to a creator who alone can bring us the kind of joy that will touch our souls, not the transient pleasures in this world. If we allow ourselves we too can be trill(ed), we too will have the sun smiling on us and the laughing breeze following us. All these personifications speak to the importance of taking time away from the world and finding peace beyond the physical, beyond those who would derail our purpose. Instead we need to find our metophorical stream, one that will put our minds at ease and allow us to find true peace while we are on this road.
What also becomes clear at the end of the poem, is the importance of finding our community. Those who will help us up and not push us down. We need to find our people who, like the speaker has found, one who have flour and yu have water and man and man make bread together. That is when the road of life becomes bearable, not when you can make do for yourself, but when you have the support of your community. So though the road of the dread is and can be indeed dreadful, there is hope. It is a hope that will tear down those barbed wire fences that we or others place around our lives to keep us limited, that makes us smile, laugh even, as tears pour from our eyes. It is the gift of transformative possibilities, present in the seemingly ordinary and simple blessings, gems even that act as the elixir that will drive our lives. These all supported by the community that will stand with and for us.
So continue to travel this road of the dread knowing that those things that threaten us have no power unless we never realise the truth of how much power we can harness we are once we stay the course and find our community.
The Road of the Dread That dey road no pave like any other black-face road it no have no definite color and it fence two side with live barbwire. And no look fi no milepost fi measure yu walking and no tek no stone as dead or familiar for sometime you pass a ting you know as . . . call it stone again and is a snake ready fi squeeze yu kill yu or is a dead man tek him possessions tease yu. Then the place dem yu feel is resting place because time before that yu welcome like rain, go dey again? bad dawg, bad face tun fi drive yu underground wey yu no have no light fi walk and yu find sey that many yu meet who sey them understand is only from dem mout dem talk. One good ting though, that same treatment mek yu walk untold distance for to continue yu have fe walk far away from the wicked. Pan dis same road ya sista sometime yu drink yu salt sweat fi water for yu sure sey at least dat no pisen, and bread? yu picture it and chew it accordingly and some time yu surprise fi know how dat full man belly. Some day no have no definite color no beginning and no ending, it just name day or night as how yu feel fi call it. Den why I tread it brother? well mek I tell yu bout the day dem when the father send some little bird that swallow flute fi trill me and when him instruct the sun fi smile pan me first. And the sky calm like sea when it sleep and a breeze like a laugh follow mi. Or the man find a stream that pure like baby mind and the water ease down yu throat and quiet yu inside. And better still when yu meet another traveler who have flour and yu have water and man and man make bread together. And dem time dey the road run straight and sure like a young horse that cant tire and yu catch a glimpse of the end through the water in yu eye I wont tell yu what I spy but is fi dat alone I tread this road. Lorna Goodison, Selected Poems, University of Michigan Press, 1993.
Life
Life Life is a harsh teacher and you will learn the grass isn't always greener and youthful exuberance relegated to its urn. Life doesn't give you extra point because you meant well. It will show you, you don't know what you need to know by bringing you low. Life uses time as the tool to showcase the rules, that can keep you from dying. Though you start off sprinting Life slows you us down, so in this lifetime you can make your imprint.
And So You Can
And So You Can Fit ambitious man and woman. And so you can, do what you set out to do. But know the going will be slow and no guru man can set your plans and lands before you. You see no one can set you up and make your dream dreams. Never outran yourself to fold somewhere on the a shelf in defeat and disbelief of your true potential. And so of course you can, find the wealth undefind by the world that would have you sell yourself.
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