Sistine Dreams on a Crayon Budget

I’ve been in this place for a second, a funky place in a small, but important space in my life. Been trying to figure out how to write about it, in a way that honestly describes what I feel, without shooting TMI into the veins of my blog…hmm…let’s see.

I thought about who I’d go to for perspective on this off-kilter feeling, this frustration in which I grapple for shreds of gratitude, nonetheless. One morning last week, the perfect subject came to me — Michelangelo.

So, in my mind, I thrust ‘ole Mike into this nightmare of a place that mirrors my reality…just to see how he’d respond…and better yet, if he came back to ME for advice, what would I tell him?…how would I suggest he deal with it?

And there he sat, as prisoner. A prison more so of circumstance than physical shackles, locks, and bars. See, he’s commissioned once again to paint a masterpiece. Sure, he still identifies more with sculpting (let’s pretend he adores painting just as much), but after the Sistine Chapel, he has an intimate knowledge of creating visual masterpieces, of reaching heights in his craft that very few people achieve in a lifetime. He’s excited about the project, spent years of time and money in preparation. But, with the final budget Pope-approved, and the perfect crew assembled, a debilitating disease cripples his hands. He still has movement, but overall, he’s heartbroken. “But, hey, don’t worry Mike. In lieu of the masterpiece, here’s an 8ct. box of crayons with red, yellow, green, blue, brown, black, orange and purple. Just do what you can, it’ll still be a masterpiece, because it’s Michelangelo.”

The Michelangelo in me is screaming, “what?!”

I am filled with creative energy. A woman with deep thoughts, feelings, and a vivid imagination (can u tell?). In this space of reference, I’ve created masterpieces to behold, magnetic works of art with a connect that warms the heart, mind, body and soul…brush strokes where every bristle massages vibrant colors into the skin of the canvas, the vibrations of which I am truly one with….

So, maybe I’m spoiled in the fact that I get high off the grandiose I’ve known and loved, and 99 1/2 isn’t good enough for me to give. I want the masterpiece…not just a piece of what I’ve mastered. But, my hands are challenged right now. And herein lies the dilemma…how do I, having created and achieved levels of masterpiece, appreciate the simplicity of crayons?

Man, if I could’ve lived this anecdote last week, I’m sure I would have thrown that Crayola box across the room in a tirade. A sistah had had it lol. But, slowly, my Spirit is humbling, as God compels me to approach this thing differently. I wanna pick up the crayons I’ve scattered here and there, the ones I tried to step on and break…take a good look at them…rethink this thing…choose again. Umm, Ms. Creative, is your collection of paint colors and brushes the only way to create a masterpiece? Have I boxed my masterpiece into this one-dimensional thing…when I have the power to create limitless expressions beauty? Could I create something beautiful simply with the colors of the rainbow? Hmm…

What would I say to Mike (me)? Sometimes we miss the beauty in the journey of creating..the beginning, the in between, worried about the final product. Sometimes we forget how things could be worse, and how there are people who have learned to do much more with less. Then, there are others with paints and brushes at their disposal, but zero movement — and vice versa.

In every situation, we are all creators of our own reality, and I can either create frustration, imbalance, or a different kinda masterpiece. Let’s just say, I’m beginning to see my crayons in a whole new, creative light. And with 180 degree thoughts, I really ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Ashe.Selah

WIFIS: Meet Me in the Air

you see right through me
and i you
alot alike we are
pure intentions
clear resolve
the innermost exposed
revealing a burning passion to Love
with all that is within
but you’re in there
and i’m in here
yet and still
our steam rises high above.
we meet somewhere
in the air.

Copyright (c) 2008. Ashe.Selah. All rights reserved.

Fro Thou Art Loosed

Ahhh! Freedom. Sometimes ya gotta let it all hang out. Let it do what it do. And after a minute with my fro on lock down under braids, signing those freedom papers was more than a relief. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being spoiled by the cornrows, and it’s pretty cool to have hair mid-back every now and then. But the hair and scalp will holla at you when it’s time…submerge me under water pronto!

And that was one highlight (if you can call it that) of a weekend I thought would go totally in another direction. I thought I’d be recouperating from a harrowing visit, and bracing for pharmaceutical side effects, being the natural woman I am.

So pleased that neither happened. The no-show I needed showed up lol, and my X Theory lives on to play another month, having actually had a false positive. I know. Cryptic-speak. Let’s just say I’ve got another month to play doctor.

Other than my non-events, and a day of removing braids, washing, conditioning, and rehearsals for hubby’s next show (bgvs)….I’ve got some FAB family news: Our daughter auditioned and got a role in her first MOVIE!! You go girl! Woohoo!!

Yep…got the message last night, and spoke with the casting director this morning. It’s so funny how it happened. The auditions were 12-4p one day last week…I got the e-mail about auditions around 12:30p. Right, the same day, after the auditions had already started.

The instructions read “bring headshot and resume”. Uh oh, we had just paid for her headshots, but they won’t be available until the end of the month. Still I felt my Mama’s intuition shifting into high gear….She can make this…if only for the practice.

I whip up a resume and re-work the headshot proof into a nice graphic at the top. 2:25p. I check daughter out of camp, “Hey, you wanna audition for a movie?” “Sure, Ma.” “Cool, just go for the experience…get a feel for readings if nothing else, k?” “OK.” See, daughter’s strength is singing and dancing. Other auditions have always been sing a song, do a dance routine. This one? Here’s the script…read lol! I packed the brush and smoothing milk for her wild mane…lo and behold, “Ma, you’re not gonna believe this.”  The only hair bow to her name pops. 3:00p. We stop off at the store to get hair bows. Find parking at the audition. Arrive at the theatre at 3:20p. They call her back at 3:45p. The rush was worth every minute…

Man, we are sooo proud of her. So grateful for this new open door that will lead to endless possibilities — and learning experiences. The sky is not the limit…..*smile*!

Playing Doctor

Ok, so. I had this theory right? Cos I know MY body, and just maybe Ms. Doc, even though you’re a board certified holistic MD, you may be barking up the wrong tree. Let’s see…..When I do X, the symptoms and pain show up automatically. Yeah! Maybe it’s X…stop doing X for a minute and see if the symptoms and pain go away. This way, I won’t have to take those icky pills.

Dontcha just hate smart, know it all people. I told ya’ll I’ve been this way from a child, smart(alic) in more ways than two lol. Yeah, I stopped X and the symptoms came back anyway this week. I thought the evidence was so clear. But I wasn’t asked to think. They did ask me to get on high doses of hormone therapy, allow it to alter my body’s natural functions, and if the symptoms go away in the process, they’ll kindly diagnose me with something that has no medical cure. Alrightie, woo hoo…sign me up! Yeah right….what the? What kinda jacked up plan is that, doc?

Since I’m outta theories and test plans, doggone it, I guess I’ll be (re)starting the regimen tonight. I gave it my best fight (ie. resistance). Need I say how ticked off I am right now. I’m battling hard for the sake of balance and a positive attitude…right this sec, all I have is attitude, and thus the vent.  But I maintain a brewing passion to help others see how emotional pain can and does attack the physical, in this season as a poster child .

I was balled up in bed this morning with the heating pad. Gotta call from hubby. We may be getting a visit this weekend from the last person on the planet I ever ever want to see again. Yeah them….folks, when it rains, sometimes it pours.

Oh Lord, I wish they would go away (how do you make family go away, just one person, but keep their children and siblings in fellowship, huh?…answer me that!). A sistah just doesn’t need this right now. And as I started feeling angst about them being in my presence, perhaps even coming to my house, an overwhelming fear came over me. Now hold up…wait a min! I’m not ’bout to let n-e-body make me fearful in my own house….where I pay bills (see my neck and eyes rolling lol?). I already gotta take those pills…this may be the wrong time for them to fool with me lol. My angst is turning to anger, and I feel old Washington Park (my ‘hood) rising up in me. I thought to myself, “I could just haul off and kick their arse and get it over with….swing first, talk later!” But what could I physically do to them that would give me back thirty plus years? What could I strike them with hard enough that would erase the pain and influence their crap had on me? God, why can’t I just forgive them from afar…why you gotta let them come into my space?

Yeah, I hear You…I don’t like it right now, but I hear You..and I will submit. There’s a healing and a level of forgiveness for me that I’m catching up to…it already exists NOW, I’m on my way to it….where I can be in the same room, and it won’t even matter to me anymore. I won’t feel the anger, pain, sadness, shame….and neither will my physical body be in an uproar about it either. Total healing. Total wholeness….from the Great Physician who never loses a patient. He hasn’t lost me yet….in the meantime, I’m grateful for the promise. In between time, I vent.

The Letter

blank sheet
reflecting the black space
where words are on break
and thoughts swim in
streams of unconsciousness
oblivious to the Waterfall up ahead
and the familiar fact that
they’ve been across that edge before.

you would think
being the strongest in the bunch
that thoughts of Love
would have seen the signs and combined
a handful of low-hanging vines
and swung herself to safety.
or better yet
rallied the troops to paddle harder
for more traction
in the opposite direction.

no, not my Love.

unmoved by the turbulence
or the effervescent view of the horizon
Love can’t wait to fall for you again.
riding shotgun with gravity
deep breath in, the ride of life begins.
Love remembered and welcomed
the exuberance of a weightless plunge
and how to trust
life jackets we can’t see or feel
they simply appear
on cue, in time
for the deepest waters.

funny, i dunno how i got off into this
when all i really wanted to do
was write you a letter.

Copyright © 2008 AsheSelah. All rights reserved.

Small Starts

Hey. Remember this wall? The one leading upstairs. Yeah, it’s the same one, where 8mos ago, my kids tacked the welcome home banner for me. I’d been away for weeks in L.A. when Daddy had his brain surgery. Yep, it had been a part of the house all this time.

Well, as of yesterday, one of my best Father’s Days ever, I took it down.

Why was yesterday one of my best Father’s Days….when it was the first one since Dad’s passing? Hmm, no supernatural fanfare, no thunder and lightning from Heaven. By the grace of God, I arrived at a state of readiness, and decided to make a small start for a big change….Letting go.

I think it was the song that helped. What don’t I do without the influence of Music.  Music races through my veins..it’s a life line…as it was for Daddy, a jazz pianist back in the day. From the first note till the last, I felt he was with me. I felt the memories of him playing this song a gazillion times on full blast. Ooooh we (the kids) used to get sooo put out by replay #11. “OMG…Daddy’s gonna play it again?!” He’d say, “ok…ok…one more time.” We knew that meant 20. And for every repeat, he’d walk through the house, or he’d sit there with his coffee, gaze off into another space with one hand raised…tears rolling down his face — “And IIIIIIIII will always love you….”

That cleansing cry I yearned for….finally started yesterday, as I listened to this song, one hand raised, and let the tears flow. May sound crazy, but I could feel Daddy so close. It became a joy to remember, no longer pure pain.

Folks, it only takes another drop of rain to cause a flood. One particle of air to burst a balloon. Never forsake your baby steps…for there’s one inside of you that will blow the lid off the entire ordeal….to the point of no return *smile*. Yesterday was my breakthrough, and I’m so grateful to God for the small start with life changing results I can feel… Ashe.Selah

Spurts for Father’s Day

Gotta chance to cry last night. No, it’s not that I need an appointment, but those 3min felt good. A quickie is all I have to give myself. All I have had since January. It’s been 5mos since Dad passed, I’m on my first Father’s Day without him, and for some reason….I still have nothing but….spurts.

I have to fight this self-conscious thinking, you know, people outside my head telling me I’m not grieving right. Maybe I just don’t know how…being the virgin at this that I am. And let me stop and thank God for the lack of practice right here…I’m not trippin’ by any means *smile*….Just wish I knew….how.

How to have that cathartic cry where, when it’s all over, I feel cleansed…it’s all over….I’m good…I feel better. How to remember him without losing my breath under this enormous weight of grief. How to delete his name and contact information from my cell and house phones. How to ward off images of his cremation. How to put his picture back up on my mantle, instead of laying it down. How not to let the same memory that contributed to his brain cancer, debilitate my health. How to clean out all of his medical and burial papers from my favorite planner (no wonder I’m not very organized right now…can’t crack that joker open for nothin’). And the big one….how to interact as family with Dad’s side…my sisters, bros, uncle here in the ‘A’….AHHH! I can’t be around them at length…our interaction boils down to occasional e-mails, texts, and myspace messages here and there right now. They only remind me. And I don’t want to remember.

But, neither do I want to forget.

The text from my lil sis read, “wat u doin for fathers day”. Six words almost broke me in half. Folks, I’m not there. Not another memorial. I can’t do the sit around eating shrimp fried rice (one of Dad’s faves) and laugh and joke about how funny Dad was. I never responded to her text (by accident…my “I dunno….” was still in ready state in my cell, never sent-oops). I won’t start assuming what she thought, but…she didn’t text again. I wonder, though, if that was weird for her. Why? Well, I don’t know if there’s a word in the dictionary which means “daughter who takes over the patriarchs role and responsibility”, but that’s what I was in the course of things. Leaned on, looked to, responsible for, and tugged on more ways than a million….in addition to having my own kids and husband….not to mention, having to deal with “their” re-appearance. Now, I’m non-existent. Barely returning phone calls/texts. Ya’ll figure it out. Guess my needle is past “E”….bone dry, without the slightest fume to make ANYbody cough. I need to be renewed, refreshed…and 5mos just doesn’t seem to be cuttin’ it….

I tried bouncing this whine routine off hubby…nothin’ doin… “don’t be mad cos I’m not jumpin’ on the bandwagon…You can’t stop being family cos of what happened. I didn’t pick you, God picked you for this.” Whatever. Who asked him anyway…..for all that Truth !

Well, a sistah’s still gotta lot to let go. I’ve still got some thoughts to change. There are still places to liberally apply non-resistance (my current kick). It will be interesting to see where I am next month, next year when I re-read this post. I hope to be like, “girl, you made it through it all!” I’ll be farther along, closer, my heart will be lighter, and I will be healthier too….minus the pain and anger. Felt good to be real with what I was feeling, and now, allow transformation to continue.

In the meantime, spurts help…. Ashe.Selah

Give In to What You Want

I’ve always been a fighter…when I felt threatened. Not a bully per se…but then again there was that time in 5th grade, when I tried to hang with bullies {crazy} and we cornered this other chic. I was actually just as scared as the girl (what if she told lol?). Just alot of being grown and fat-mouthing…knowing good and well if Sis. Beverly (Mama) would’ve heard about the incident, I wouldn’t have been able to sit for a month lol. But, I digress.

Aside from the physical, my Spirit fights. Protects. Resists being controlled. Resists being told “No you can’t.” But something’s happened over the past few years. The birth of new thoughts and choices. Lessons in acceptance. A gentle tug to come over to the other side. To the land of Non-Resistance. Who me? Where weak folk live…where the inhabitants don’t know how to make it happen (that is society’s mantra, right?).

So, check it…..

I’m still madly in luv with smoothies and my Magic Bullet. If you’ve seen the informercials on the Bullet, you know the cup sets come with twist on drinking lids in various colors. Well, as it would happen, my blue lid has been stuck on a cup for months, which pretty much makes it useless for the Bullet. It’s just a cup now.

One day, I was craving a smoothie before work, but forgot to turn on the dishwasher the night before. Didn’t feel like hand-washing a Bullet cup with dried-on strawberry seeds. A glance into the cup cabinet revealed only one clean Bullet cup available – the blue one. Immediately, my mind remembered the months of trying to untwist that daggone lid….using towels, placing it under hot water, straining with all my might to crack its grip. For some reason (called smoothie cravings), the “never say never” in me decided to try the lid one more time — this time from an unusual angle (for me).

I wrapped my fingers around that lid and tried something different — I tightened it even more! It wasn’t a conscious decision…I wasn’t thinking hard trying to crack a code or anything. Then, the counter-clockwise twist. Need I tell you what happened to that lid after soooo many months? It twisted right off! I started laughing to myself lol. Was that all I had to do….Give In?!!

As this scene played out, my Spirit took note. Do I carry patterns of always trying to MAKE, FORCE, MANIPULATE things to happen, rather than, through the Art of Non-Resistance….simply LET life and purpose take their course? Do I often fight in my own strength, when true strength lies in trusting that my Source, who is the Most High, has got everything under control in every area of my life….if I would just go sit down somewhere and be still lol? What about you?

I like the way William Frank Diedrich put it – “Nonresistance doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care about the results. Nonresistance means not attaching your well-being to results.”

In some areas of my life, this had been my M.O. …the world was over if this or that didn’t happen…and I was willing to fight for what I wanted, even if it meant losing me. But a shift in Power is taking place. Power that I passed out freely to others?…yeah, the pilgrimage has begun! And like myself, Power is finding its way back home ! Ashe.Selah

If You Say It Long Enough

I try not to get sucked in to his addiction. Really I do. Get my pressure up arguing with people who can neither see me nor hear me. Pop a blood vessel trying to get my point across. Hubby doesn’t seem to mind the words hitting the TV tube and bouncing right back to him lol. And even if the commentators on CNN could hear me, would my opinion, my voice change anything lol?

But this particular evening was different. Segment after segment of hubby’s favorite show (no, the channel rarely moves for him, and if it does, it goes right to ESPN…another one of my faves — yeah right!), the question was put on repeat..”How can Senator Obama make amends with women voters?” I guess aggravation sunk in. One of my pet peeves is when people say things over and over and over…OMG, I heard you already lol.

So, I got sucked in. “What do they mean how can he make amends…what has Senator Obama personally said or done to offend women or Hillary?” They had me now…and hubby knew it lol. “He’s been more respectful and gracious than many situations called for…and furthermore, the question assumes that not only is he the cause, but he has the responsibility to fix what he didn’t break (I’ve had a real problem with candidates, in general, having to answer for what other adults think or do….but I digress)…a good majority of these women voters will never truly accept him anyway.” Hubby and I continue our livingroom commentary, and I finally enter my closing remarks (regarding the repeat question and its assumption)….. “Well, if you say it long enough, you’ll believe it!”

Freeze frame. This has been happening alot to me lately. My mouth will say one thing in one context, but my Spirit will hear it and apply it in another…totally unrelated. Almost instantly, my Spirit pulled me to the side and asked, “What have YOU been saying…and saying for sooo long that you believe it?” That still, small voice was gently tugging on me, prodding me to really think about what I think…what I’ve told myself.

For what I’ve said and believed….did I rely on the facts or the Truth? Yep, there is a difference. For example, the facts state there are health challenges I must deal with right now. But the Truth is…I am already healed and whole, living the past of a miracle to come. And so, that’s what I must keep saying…and say consistently till the miracle and I become one in this reality.

Now, for the chick who’s nerves would stand on end for a broken record….it would take an act of God to hit my needle and bump my affirmations off repeat…I am already healed and whole, living the past of a miracle to come…I am already healed and whole, living the past of a miracle to come….I am…:)

Coming Out

I just felt like doing it. I knew sometime this year I would. I dunno what’s up with this year….so much has happened, and there’s so much left to happen. But to put a face, my face on the most intimate disclosures of my life…an identity to go along with the pain, trauma, and Triumph — Man, that’s major. This is me minus my twin avatar with the orange fro lol. Hi!

Now, let me be real, I tried to squish my face as small as pixelly possible lol…”Ashe who?…Isn’t that <enter real name>…she’s healing from what??!” Yeah. This is me. But seriously, after today, I doubt there’ll be this torrential outpour of “Hey, I know her!”, not when I’ve chosen social isolation for a couple of years now. But, guess what….I’m coming out of that too!

It’s a little scary….being around people, especially new folks. Before the call to deal with my crap and getting really real with myself, I LOVED to socialize…laugh and clown….be around folks…the more the merrier. But when my stuff hit, good Lord…I never knew levels and depths of pain existed like this. Remember, I was the prideful, judgmental one….would tell others to “just shake it off…what?!” Now here I was about to die. Yeah, I was shame. And I was convinced, if you looked into my eyes, you would uncover my pain, those events would play out before you like a movie reel. So, it just felt safer to hide for a while. Plus, I was tired of bursting out into tears for no apparent reason around folks…how crazy (I never let people see me sweat, tear up)…those were some crazy days of denial. Now, all I wanna do is love on people….

Not only do I miss hanging with my old regulars, some really cool new peeps wanna get close. “Hey girl, here’s my number…call me sometime…or We’re having a party…what’s your e-mail, I’ll send you the evite.” I’d like that alot…I miss people…connection…..but talk about what? How I’ve been isolated for two years, how therapy went, how I’m almost there, how I’m trying not say or do anything stupid to blow it…freak people out? I’ve “talked” through my blog since late Dec ‘06…it’s safe…you can think about what you’re going to say before you say it…and if it comes out goofy, you can always hit that friendly backspace key lol. There’s no backspace key in the verbal world…and my one-on-one verbal has been on lock for a minute.

But I can’t shake the feeling of O-U-T OUT! Of change coming in the wind. My Spirit can see it, feel it even if my fears try to talk me out of it. The Spirit is winning, and I’m coming out regardless!!!…ahhh!…even if I have to crawl. And lately, the greatest Cheerleader in the universe has been rooting buck wild for me…God knows the time and seasons outlined for this journey….He knows I’m close. Look how far you’ve come, girl….the season for giving up, going back came and went a long time ago. All the way o-u-t is on the horizon. I’ll find a way to call…to party hearty again…introduce new me to the world..THRIVE!…..So grateful!