Loving Me...

Today, I am really loving me. I woke up at around three am restless. I kept trying to go back to sleep, but to no avail, so I eventually got out of the bed. It is that special time for a woman where frequent visits to the bathroom are necessary, so I guess my restlessness was not in vain. First thing first, praising GOD for another day, "those that seek me early shall find me" (Proverbs 8:17). Second, I made some breakfast for me and my Patrick. Then, I started a load of laundry. I've been thinking about slowing down. It has been brought to my attention that I, Crystal Johnson, move faster than the average person. I tend to disagree, but I know that my Patrick uses this euphemism only to catch my attention, which only proves his point even more. "See," he confirms, "I had to say all that just to get you to really stop and digest what I've been telling you." Hurt and irritated simulataneously that this, this..."man" seems to see me more than I'm willing to admit, I respond in the most feminine voice I can muster, "I listen to you, baby." His response is a simple, "Umm Hmm" and a look that humbles me and says all that we don't say with words.

For some strange reason, I like mirrors. I know that may sound narcisssistic to some, but I do. I've always been a little taken aback by my reflection. Not necessarily in adoration, but I'm always amazed at how differently I look at times. Sometimes, I will sit in front of a mirror and have a silent conversation with myself. It helps the conversation in my mind if I can actually see a person across from me. As long as I can remember, I have been my best friend. I was that child that played well alone, had imaginary friends and such. Therefore, sitting and staring in the mirror was my way of checking in with Crystal...seeing if she was okay...if she was still there. Then, a time came where I couldn't find me in my reflection. I avoided mirrors, which is difficult when I have mirrors throughout my house. As a gift, I was given a full size 5' x 3' mirror, which is hard to avoid when it is in my bedroom. I saw my reflection, but I didn't like it. I was not me. I couldn't see the me that I used to be proud to be. When I looked at myself, really stared into my eyes, it frightened me. It frightened me because I didn't recognize the woman in the mirror. In the past, there may have been an instance here and there, but I always returned. This time, the Crystal I knew, was gone for a long time. She'd come out when she felt safe, but I didn't feel safe often enough for me. So my goal was to find me again. Anyone who knows me may say that when my mind has decided on something, just wait and see what happens. I have not decided if that is a good or bad thing. There are times where I wish I'd just let something go instead of having my way, but c'est la vie, we live and learn.Yet, in this case it was well worth the cost to finding myself.

My New Song
Spring 2007

nothing fills your soul like love
it creams around the corners, crevices
and it fills the holes
it carves its way forging through you
making room for it to move you
to grow
every moment, movement, look and breath
it billows like air inside you until
you feel full, but not so that you’ll burst
it makes you feel round and soft and happy
it completes you
creates you
makes you feel
turns you into you
even before you knew who you were
makes dark days seem bright
and heavy loads light
gives you another reason to live and to want
makes you curious
gives you wings to fly
and gills to breathe under water
when others seem to suffocate and want to die
only people who’ve had love can truly miss it
and those who haven’t but see it can only wish for it
yet it’s different to every vessel
In some, love dives while in others it rises
it whispers while in others it cries
it holds while it pushes others free
love molds while it lets you be
for some it’s a dream for others a reality
but until you know love it can be a mystery
love doesn’t hurt yet it’s the absence that lurks
and sherks and jerks your soul
only the memory of the filling
makes you struggle against its void
void like pain can turn girl into a woman
makes you see things coming
makes you hide the void so no one can see
the struggle you fight when the sun melts
on top of the horizon
and the moon appears to fill its space
nothing suffices
melting, sobbing into loneliness
waiting for the sun shine
hoping it will save face
so no one will know the pain that hasn’t been erased
signifying shame, disgrace
that doesn’t have a place
on this brand new face
so happy that I’ve found love again
so happy that its moving inside of me
sometimes grooving inside of me
each word I speak
turns into a line for a new song
for me to sing
and although some may
encourage me to keep my day job
they just don’t know the pain
I went through
that I was bent through
that I was sent through
so that I could be recreated
in a better image to prove to
any others like me
who felt like their life was through
don’t care whether it rhymes or not
or if I hit a wrong note
cause boo, this song it ain’t just about you
its for all my sisters and brothers
who travel this road called life
and struggle to make room for their dreams to grow
but speed bumps aren’t placed on a road
unless you’re going somewhere too fast
or too far
oh, I was there, and I’m back again
praising God that I’m me again
and that time spent
was well worth the cost
because it was my soul that I re-bought
some say I look the same
but its my vision that was changed
discovering love in everything
finding heaven around the bend
staying connected to God
the source of love and any talents I bring
Initially, I didn’t believe Badu’s banter
when she sang how love could make it better
but now that I see clearer
I thank God that I got through
so I can sing my new song
just for you

I've seen other shells or empty vessels when I was in the same predictament, and it only made me fight harder. I will not be that person you meet where you can tell that once upon a time they were a vibrant, fun person to be around and now they're just either quiet victims or bitter and cynical. Both are equally draining people. The quiet victims use their silence to draw you into their world and everything is someone elses fault. Or, if they actually admit to their part in their drama, they feel they "can't do" anything about it. All their faith goes into "waiting and hoping" opposed to dreaming, planning and doing. The bitter and cynical people criticize everything. They see the negative and state it in almost every situation. They are overprotective and overprotected. These are the worse because they are so afraid of being hurt again that they are closed. Some people almost completely. Every once in awhile you'll see these people as their natural selves. Its usually around children or their parents or around anyone or anything that makes them feel safe. And its so odd, when or if you're ever privy to seeing that real, fearless geniune side of that person it makes you understanding to that empty vessel of a person. It makes you more sensitive to their needs because you either pity them or love them. You keep holding on to the idea that they will change. Sometimes, if you want to change a person's behavior, you must first change your own. People will not change if they do not choose to do so in their heart. You may have to decide what you're willing to do and not do.

So, I knew that I needed to change my environment and so forth. I didn't know how this was going to happen, but that was the foremost thought in my mind, consistently. When your thoughts are strong and focused on an idea, your behavior will follow. I began to make decisions that would inevitably create the change I was seeking. If you ask, believe you will receive. (Matt 21:21-22). I refer to that scripture because it answers questions, but the problem most have is lack of faith. I am convinced that keeping a journal of your daily, weekly or even monthly thoughts and/or events will keep you honest and consistently evolving. I use my poetry to debrief, meditate and to pray. I usually write poems in series until the issue or problem I'm analyzing has been resolved. The first poem in the series always poses the question or problem. The others show my thoughts and growth until the resolution. The more poems in the series, the more I thought about it. I try to include dates on my poems, so I can keep track of my mental problem solving. I've included a poem that describes how I dealt with that emptiness:

After the Investigation (part 1)
Fall 2000

The sharp pain in my right wrist
Alerts me that time has returned
For me to feel
The emptiness
That I tried to forget
Lost in passionless kisses
Unfelt in warm arms
Untouched by lingering fingers
That leave me cold
Over and over again
Each time I feel
The empty that I tried to forget
As it consumes me
Slowly, I know in time
I will be the pain from
My wrist
I will be the pain that reminds me
Of the empty
I tried to forget
Thoughts of finishing my existence
Drift by
As trendy as newfound religions
I ponder and analyze
The how’s and why’s
To whenever, wherever, however
It happens


Again (part 2)
March 2007

I am alive again—the superficial pain
from my wrist
I once dismissed
or regarded with disdain
I welcome;
It tells me I’m alive, again;
It shows me who I am again;
The investigation is finished
and I’m remembering the me
I was before the pain—
The pain I allowed to consume me
became me
and now I’m back again;
Full circle I’ve come
although not many can say...
I laugh heartily
I feel completely
I cry fully
until the hurt is released;
Afraid no more of the how’s and why’s
because I know the power lies within
again
I reclaimed myself
My health and my mind, again
It was left for me to decide
I chose life not death
and now the LORD is my guide;
I stand before you anew--
evolving, growing everyday
because I’m me again
I asked GOD a question
and HE showed me the way;
Through days and nights
with loneliness as my friend;
From out my dark cloud
I ascend;
New heights, new beginnings—
It’s time for me to begin life
again

As a little girl to adult, I would have clairvoyant tendencies. I would get a sharp pain in my wrist when
something was not quite right. It would signal to me that I (my inner self) was unhappy or afraid even when my conscious self attempted to be okay. It would always remind me that I was not balanced or at peace. Then, there came a time when my overall pain was so great that I became numb to the pain in my wrist. I wanted it to stop. I wished for it to stop. I didn't care what seemed right, I wanted to do things my way. And you know what? I got what I wished for.....I believe and received. For a long time, there were no premonitions, no signs, no special feelings...I couldn't access it when I wanted it. That hurt me. I found that my decisions weren't as on point as they usually were. I began to second guess myself. It was awful. I had to learn to do that on my own, so it was needed. It took years to forgive myself and regain that power. It was like my guardian angel would tug my arm to say, "hey, that's not what we're here to do" or "we're going the wrong way." Now, I am so grateful for the guidance that I took for granted. Never lose your childish innocence. It will keep you honest with yourself and pure at heart. Guard your heart with all diligence because in it flows the issues of life.(Proverbs..4:21-23). Thats how I interpret that verse. What GOD put inside you---your heart-- you must protect it, even from family and friends sometimes, for it is what you were put here to do...your desires....your path to happiness is found in your heart. Sometimes, we forget to listen to that and instead choose to focus on the noise from the world. We allow it into our lives through people, t.v., schools, etc. Anyway, I had to be reminded that I had the power to my so-called problems. I just hadn't asked the right questions. Some people know and are afraid to ask because they are afraid to change. On the other hand, I was just stubborn...a creature of habit. Once I was ready, I found the right questions. I found me, again....and for me it was remembering to not be afraid of love.

So, I am loving me, right now. I woke up this morning, looked in the mirror and smiled. I ran my fingers through my tightly curled, natural hair feeling powerful and free and beautiful. I love my hair! I mean I really do! I wanted to go natural in high school, but one of my teachers said, "Wait." She said, "Wait. When you get all your degrees and got the experience under your belt, you can do whatever you want to do. Some people have a hard time accepting natural styles." I was hurt at this comment, but I understood her point to protect me. She was concerned people would see the natural hair and not see me. And she was right, I saw and heard first hand how people regarded those with natural styles as I worked in various jobs and even from friends. So, I just waited. I'm glad I did because I enjoyed my perm at times. I enjoyed having long hair and all the privileges that come with it, but now that I've done all that I could do with the perm, I was ready for a change. Something to show the inner growth occurring inside me. I wanted to remove as many of the impurities I was putting inside my body. Let me see how I feel when I remove things that I don't really need. How much money will I save by removing some of these things? That's my new thing, lately. I am always conducting a personal experiment. How does Crystal react to the removal of these toys or things? It is somewhat sadistic, but it helps keep me focused/disciplined on what is important to me,......real people and feelings, not things. Then, it became time for me to go back to as natural state as possible to see how my body reacts to natural, organic things. I felt that I had the most energy when I was young, and that was my most natural state...no perm, no clinging to things because as children we are simple and require simple things....love, attention, food, clothes, shelter and structure. Things that are free, natural or from the earth and GOD. You'll be surprised by the energy and health benefits of it. I was educated on it at an early age, but peer pressure can be something else. I am only human. Yet, I was told by people with perms, how dangerous the chemicals inside the perms were. How it can affect brainwaves and possibly lead to cancer, but how can I take that information seriously when the person telling me this has a perm? So I figured it must not be that dangerous. Yet, now as I am geting older and realizing the greed of this capitalistic economy, wouldn't be surprised if it was true. However, hair products/services are a billion dollar industry, and no one is going to ruin that money by a little truth that may save a life here and there....nah....so, for me, I changed because it was necessary for me to grow. It was time, thats all.

So, I am loving me, right now. I remember the vision I had of what I would look like when I'd turn 30, and I was taken aback again when I realized, there she was. Here I am. Those large brown eyes shining back at me. In those eyes, I saw it all....the pain, joy, grief, Love, peace, growth, GOD, my beginning and ending, my story...and this time I was unafraid. Being older, growing and experiencing life can make you either fearful or fearless. I choose the latter. I remember that GOD has already given us everything we need to survive and do what HE promised in us to do. I found peace in that. I find that peace in me. So, as I run my fingers through my course curly hair for the umpteenth time. I remember that I survived. I remember that I am powerful. I remember that there is no one else like me. I remember that all things are possible. I remember that I am okay, I am abnormal because I know WHO created me...and I am different for a reason, and that humbles me as I accept the face in the mirror. I accept all that I see and I am glad. I smile at HIS work. My eyes are watching GOD and all HE/sHE does is GoOD. So, all I can do is Thank the ALMIGHTY GOD and speak life into my world when I gratefully say, "Good morning, Crystal Lynn. I'm so happy to see you, again."

Thoughts on Turning 30

Some people think I'm doing this thing backwards, but I'm just doing what I said I would do. I always said I would follow the desires of my heart. Do what I wanted to do, and it just so happens that the output changes at times, but never the vision or the dream. I will not disclose my vision and dream to mere strangers, who lack the discipline of their emotions enough to provide consistent positive energy my way. I, too, am human and understand our ways. Yet, I digress and refer to one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost entitled, "The Road Less Traveled" :

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

I love this poem because it shows how the "traveller" had to decide on which path to take. In life, we have to make decisions everyday, sometimes, not realizing the magnaminity of them. I followed all the rules to get where I am only because I believed my teachers when they said, "if you get an education, you can be whatever you want to be" Well, that sold me! I was in hook, line and sinker. All my energy from that point was focused on getting the education that would permit me to "be whatever I wanted to be" and what did I want to be more than anything?....Free And so far, I am not disappointed. It just took some sacrifices along the way to create the world I imagine for me. If Education is Truth and the Truth sets people free, then why do people feel the opposite at their jobs? Thats how I felt. IfI have all these degrees and so-called "education" then why am I following rules that I don't like or make little sense? This isn't what I desire? This isn't the life that I had in mind when I was a little girl. God promises us abundant life and the desires of our heart, so what was I doing wrong? This is when I arrived at my most difficult fork in the road and chose the path less traveled.

I used to follow all the rules. I used to adhere to society's programmed plan of life. You know, go to school, college, get degrees, car, career, house, marriage, kids, etc. Now, I have acquired most of these "things," what does that mean? What is the significance of having "things"? I have everything except the marriage and kids, but even lacking those things many of my friends felt I "had it all together." Yet, the acquisition of these things still left me wanting for something else. Something I could not put my finger on for some time until I took time to remember who I was.

We tend to forget the true desires that GOD placed in us. I made myself think back to my childhood. What was it that I wanted to be? When I was in grade school, I desired to be (in no particular order) a comedian, a writer, a dancer/choreographer (like Debbie Allen) and/or a child psychiatrist. Do you know what career I chose to do out of that list? None of the above. I became an educator, a teacher. However, I still use those talents such as comedy, choreography, writing and my psychology classes in teaching. It actually makes the job easier. I bring myself into the job. I am the job that no one else can duplicate. I made myself so marketable, so indispensible that it creates a hole once I leave because I made it better than what it was. We should always leave things or people better than how we found them. That is the true mark of your legacy. I have always been conscious of my story. Maybe because I'm a writer, but I want to leave a story that will help others after my time on this earthly realm. I know that may sound arrogant, but few people do that. Some people follow the rules so much that we forget to be ourselves.We become the restrictions of our life opposed to becoming the very thing that we desire. Odd, huh? We all do it, I did it. I became tired of trying to fit in the same cookie-cutter mold as everyone else. I never cared about "fitting in", but as we become adults, its almost assumed that you will do certain things to be accepted. So I refuse, and that can cause some to be confused when it seems that I had it all, but thats not what I desired. Wants and desires are different. They are different words. We want different things everyday, but desires are placed in you by GOD so they are consistent from birth. Yet, society and school conditions us to compete for jobs that make money opposed to lifestyles that would lead to true happiness. Therefore, I diverge. My ways are not usually my own because desires are what GOD placed in us at conception so how can anyone take what GOD has gifted me?

I believe in the promises, blessings and authority that GOD has given man, so I use them faithfully and responsibly. It is the presence of fear that leads to defeat, so I had to shed myself of what was "safe" and do what I desired.....to be free of a life that wasn't me. I didn't want to be confined to a classroom or building when true education and learning is gained though experience. Everywhere I go, I am an educator. That is apart of who I am. I accept that and carry it with me, but its not all of who I am. I am so much more than the compartmentalized mentality that many of us have. My GOD cannot be confined since he is alpha and omega, and if we are made in HIS image, then how can I, too, be confined, when we as humans are meant to grow and learn and become wiser--ever changing. When I realized my power, I regained my confidence in me. The fearless little girl I once was with dreams and ideas and hope and resilence returned. She said, "crystal it's time to leave." And although I didn't want to relocate at that time, it was definitely the time to do something so I wouldn't fall back into my comfortable routine.

In retrospect, the reason I left my first two experiences after college was not because I didn't love it there; I was getting too comfortable too early in life. I don't call them jobs because they were more like experiences where I was blessed to have supervisors who treated me like an apprentice, and allowed me to grow. I have a lot of respect for Marc E. Willis and LaVaughn Bridges my supervisors from my time at STAX Music Academy and Melrose High School, respectively. Leaders who allowed me to be one, in good times and not so good times.Now, leaving both places was difficult because when I am into a project or "experience" I'm am 100% or I'm not at all. I felt my heart was longing for something that I had but couldnt see. I knew there were a whole lot of other things I desired and sometimes we allow comfort and things to make us forget our purpose. The evil one has all kind of distractions. Some can have it all and not get distracted. Its called discipline. My exodus to Houston helped me to regain my discipline, my focus, my connection to GOD.

Oddly, when I decided to relocate, I'd just began to date the love of my life. I left Memphis and him to find me. I didn't know how the me I desired to find would return to him, but I knew that anything worth having is worth fighting for, so I took the chance to save me. I was alone in Houston. New job, new students, new apartment, new city, no boyfriend and old me. I drove the ten hours to Memphis every month. Not necessarily because I wanted to but I had to. I didn't know love could do this to me. Remember, this was the one thing that I didn't have--love, marriage and kids---not that I was rushing to have the marriage and kid part, but God will give you the desires of your heart when you are obedient. And my presence in Houston was meant for me. It was apart of my obedience to God and if I could weather that year long storm, then I would be worthy of my big dreams and desires. I guess, it took God to move me ten hours and two states away for me to realize how much I desired love and companionship. It took this experience for me to sacrifice things I wouldn't have if I stayed in Memphis. It wasn't until HE took everything that I could see anything HE was trying to tell me. Although I wanted different, I wasn't behaving differently. Yet, when all my comforts were taken away from me, I quickly realized what was missing---love.

The death of my oldest sister changed me. She practically raised me when I was a little girl. Her death left a void that was so large that nothing seemed to fill it. It was like the space phenomenon of the Black Hole. Like a vortex, but nothing could satisfy its longing. I didn't realize how much Love she put into my life until she was gone. All the education, jobs, freedom and even going "clubbing" couldn't fill this hole. I tried doing every and anything to feed this desire, but nothing worked. I was too closed. My heart was closed and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't open up. It only devoured due to its fear of having nothing, which only left me with more nothing. I call my move to Houston, my exodus, because it was my time away for fine tuning. God had to break and remake me, so I could be the person HE'd invested into creating for this world. Like the story of Jonah, either I was going to do HIS will or be eaten up by my own pain and disobedience.

So, I chose Love. When I met my Patrick, I didn't think it would be him. Yet, it was God who provided him with the sustanance to feed me real food that would heal that Black Hole. I was so accustomed to men who took the Road Frequently Traveled that their words could not keep me. I was at the point where I knew the path of those who followed the rules of this society, so I desired someone who was speaking my same language. Someone who, like me, was free of the constaints of societel rules. Someone who found joy in serving others. Someone who was able to help me achieve the desires of my heart because ours are one in the same. Someone who was as fearless as I was. His Love fed me and taught me. It is through him that I am learning how to love and what love really is. Its not the things that movies and fairytales suggest, but the real things that keep you connected to GOD. I know many, even him, didn't fully understand my reasons for leaving. Even though my decision led to unforeseen events and not so good decisions on both sides, I know GOD meant if for our GoOD. As we overcame these hurdles it brought us closer. What GOD has let no man put asunder. I am grateful for the spontaneous ride with him than to have a predictable life with someone safe.

Some thought I was trying to "get with" someone else, but anyone who knows me knows that type of thinking is so low on the chakra levels that what I desired was bigger than some mortal--please. Although it may be enough for some people, Sex never kept me long. I require more and I let any man attempting to be in my world know that if he lacks the energy and intellect to communicate with me, then he'll never have me. I've noticed the more I'm connected to GOD, the less I feel the wants of the flesh. Having sex should be an act that allows the couple to connect with GOD because it should be through Love that the act is performed. If it lacks that openness, then it will be a waste of time and energy. Sex should have a purpose higher than the flesh. If we look at the act of sex as man giving information to the woman during intercourse,then what information is your man giving you? How is he feeding you, helping you to achieve your goals and dreams? If that act isn't helping you to that end, then you are having purposeless sex, which can be considered sinful and leave you feeling empty. Opposed to a man and woman having sex with a purpose and goal in mind, which will lead to glorify GOD. If you cannot make and maintain eye contact during intercourse and feel the other person's thoughts and ideas inside you, then you're having purposeless sex. A waste of energy that you could exert somewhere else. This is why in many sports, coaches advise their athletes to abstain from sex before a big game. The act deplenishes you of energy that is a waste if the act of sex lacks purpose designated by the man and woman committing the act. Reserve your energy for someone worthy of it and your time.

Now back to my thoughts.....This decision of finding me almost caused me to lose him. I fought like nobody's business because Love like this doesn't happen often. Some women thought I was stupid because of all that I had accomplished on my own, but that was it. I had accomplished what many hope to do, and it still wasn't satisfying. I had established security, which is what most people struggle to have, but I desired so much more. I had those things because I followed all the rules from the onset. My friends & family who had children before they finished their "education" were a little jaded about my decision only because they regret the decisions they made early in life. While they were cutting school, having sex, experimenting with drugs and alcohol, I was focused on what my teachers told me in elementary: "if you get an education, you can be whatever you want to be." Now, that I have what many hope to have, I am Free to truly navigate my options in life. When I finally do settle down, I would have done all that I wanted because I did it my way and no one elses.

I have grown so much in the past five years, even more in the last year. Being alone in Houston gave me time to truly think about how I will do it the next time I have the opportunity to make a choice. As an aside, I think its most important to take time out in life. Take time out of your everyday life to really analyze your decisions and path. If more people stopped chasing the proverbial carrot, and took a global or bird's eye view of their life, they would make better decisions. In retrospect, its always clearer. I can look back and see all my past decisions good and not so good. Now at 30, I'm able to do what I could have done in my 20s, but better and with more confidence because I know that I don't know anything or anyone more than I know me. Knowing and being confident in yourself and having peace with your decisions is called growing up.... and that is truly priceless.

I Don't Compete

I don’t compete. In my early twenties, I began to understand that the entire world is competing for something. Whether it is for money, love, resources, sex, attention or energy, the world influences us to compete for these things.

I recall when I realized I was considered by some as disadvantaged, at-risk, a have-not, urban youth or any other word that has been created to label minorities who lack money. I had been accepted into John P. Freeman Junior High School for academically advanced students. It was a predominantly Black school, but these Blacks did not act like me. They had more access to resources than I did; therefore, they had bigger, more expensive toys than me. We were the same, but different. I didn’t hate them, but I disliked how they tried to make their resources seem better than mine. I never openly criticized their ignorance; I just labeled them as different. Nevertheless, some of them openly berated those who were not like them. In my neighborhood, we ridiculed stupidity, not remnants of poverty. There were some things we had more control over than others, and those things beyond our control were off limits. However, everyone has a mind, so checking your verbal, wit and eventually strength was more the norm. Overall, it was a unique experience that I see as a lesson. There were people in my same city and visual Blackness, less than ten miles from my home that were different from the world I lived. I couldn’t imagine the other possibilities I would encounter throughout my life. It taught me to be true to myself, and that people communicate in various ways depending on how they were raised. What I understand now is that they merely communicated differently. Once I learned how they defined and used words, arranged sentences, posed questions and viewed life, it improved my interactions with them. Not unlike visiting a foreign country. We all have our distinct customs and traditions.

This is why we must not allow ourselves to be caught up in the rat race of life. Unless, that is what you like. Nevertheless, that life leads us to forgetting our purpose. It leads us to forgetting what we are really working towards in our lives, so what is it? What is it that we are working towards achieving in our lives? Even more so, what are we sacrificing for this dream? Is the juice worth the squeeze? Will a man sell his soul for the love of riches? Being wealthy is fine, but let us define wealth or being rich. Then, we must define the words greed or gluttony. Let our language speak truthfully. Communication is more than just words. It is the energy we emit in our body language, too. All these must be taken in consideration when communicating with someone. This is why my mother always shrugged from long telephone conversations. She found it difficult to communicate effectively without being in the person's presence. "It ain't the same," she would say, and now I begin to understand her statement.

Moreover, my contention became that I won’t compete. I’ll just be me. When I’m me, I always win. Good or bad, hard knocks or silver platters, smooth or rocky times, I can always look back and rationalize my decision making process and be accountable for my actions. I am responsible. I can decide to punish or reward myself accordingly. We are our own judges. We live our lives by our own personal rules. Therefore, if we change the rules, we change the consequences or rewards. Man may give the award (things), but the feeling of reward (blessings/what is earned) is much more satisfying. It gives your life meaning and purpose that is in line with giving glory to God. We were created to “make manifest the glory of God” (Willliamson). In the hustle and bustle of life, we forget who we are as well as whose we are. As an educator, I am bombarded with all types of questions from my students, and I, sometimes, find it difficult to remove God from my language because it is apart of whom I am. The question I hear so often is, “how do I know my purpose?” I respond simply, “Ask your Creator.” This answer usually stumps them because they don’t think about it. The answers to life’s dilemmas are simple; it’s the people and our emotions who make it difficult. For instance, if we desire to know how to operate something we either ask the person who created it or refer to the instruction manual designed by its manufacturer. We are no different. Prayers are the answer to our problems, but many lack the faith to manifest the things we desire.

This is why most humans have difficulty in forgiveness. It is because we blame ourselves. It becomes selfishness because WE cannot rationalize the "why.” Why it happened to me? Why didn’t I do this? Why didn’t it go this way? When we cannot get pass the “why,” we become trapped from our future, our blessings, our lives, our dreams. Things don’t happen like we would always like them to, but that’s where faith in ourselves to be better, do better, live better should kick into our minds. However, many humans have been trained to punish themselves after every failure or defeat. We run away, licking our wounds, feeling pity for ourselves and all the while preventing ourselves from our real dreams and destinies. Dreams change form due to our experiences, and oftentimes our “picture” of our lives isn’t the best one for us. We create a vision from media, family, friends or our imaginations. These are all fine and well, but we worry about the wrong things all the time. We worry and struggle to have what we think we should have, live or be. These prevent us from finding true happiness and peace because we "cannot" accept life. We "keep living" but we are bitter, angry, depressed, selfish and grief stricken. These feelings will not wield the true love we all seek. This leads to the question, what do we really desire? What do we really need? Is it love, security, identity, acceptance and/or purpose? If that is all we really need, then how much does that cost? Where most see chance (opportunity), how many see the cost (what you sacrifice) for the things we "want" in life.

The answers are so simple, but we get lost in translation. Words differ in meaning from country to country, state to state, province to province, city to city, borough to borough, parish to Parish, county to county, neighborhood to neighborhood, man to man, and oftentimes, house to house. So, how do we fill in these gaps? Treating our neighbor as ourselves? I guess it depends on how you show love, respect, discrimination, hate and tolerance to others. Although this seems simple, many of us forget this in a moment of passion, anger, grief or vulnerability. Either we are ruled by fear or faith. Faith in what? Faith in the person you are. It is the faith in being a human of truth and love, which equals justice, but requires tolerance and understanding. Then, when we begin to look at people we don’t judge “them,” but see ourselves. Although comparing and contrasting may seem like a thin line from judging. It’s all about the heart of the person. Is it compassion and love with which we look upon each other? Or, are we ready to be condescending because they may lack the same resources we have. The resources we have labeled as significant or important. Rather see others as being a possible teacher or student, equally different, but the same.

However, when I make decisions or make choices that were influenced by others or my perceptions of how they may view my life, I become paralyzed and fearful. I make wrong decisions. Resolutions made from fear. Those are the only wrong decisions. The ones you make from the heart are always the right ones. Even if it leads to struggle, these things help prepare us for the path ahead. They help to strengthen our faith, and to ensure our commitment for the long haul. God does not want weaklings or cowards. Courage is when we do something brave although we are afraid. If we weren’t afraid, then it wouldn’t be courage. Some people have strenght or talents that others don’t have and vice versa. For me as a child, “talking back” or disagreeing with an adult showed courage (or insanity, depending on your family), but as an adult, I don’t see the big deal in arguing with one of my peers. In other words, it’s all about perspective. Depending on your view, things may seem easy or difficult. The answer, you ask? Well, it’s quite simple. Even a baby does it; children do it, before we imprint our unwritten societal rules indelible in their brains. The answer is to trust your instincts. Trust yourself. Does it come from a place of love and goodness? Or, insecurity, loneliness and fear?

It’s odd. As a child, I had such a strong sense of identity. A confidence that I didn’t realize was uncommon until I became an adult. In this process, I began to realize that what some call luck, others call blessings and rest may refer to it as fortune or chance, I gained only by believing in myself and having some simple confidence. Yet, it was my inability to understand that confidence wasn’t simple, which made me an anomaly to others. I understood that I had a certain, let’s call it “power” for now, but I didn’t know how it happened or why people responded to it so. I just knew that certain things would be okay. I just understood that these things would happen because it was what I desired more than anything. My pureness of heart, no matter if I was a little selfish to some, came from a sense of oblivion. I was oblivious to how my actions may have affected others.

Then, there came a time that I was plagued with confusion. During my senior year of high school, I became too accustomed to getting my way. Believe it or not, I wanted to understand the life my peers led. I couldn't understand their confusion, how they made decisions, so I decided to assimilate. I was tired of being labeled as "different" or the "responsible one" among my clique of friends. I wanted to see the life they were leading for myself. With one decision, I was headed in a path that could only have brought me here to the person I am. Assimilating meant negating the "differences" that made me special and more powerful. It meant not always listening to my instincts because once I fell into their ideology or paradigm of life, I found too many areas of gray. Therefore, I made a lot of fear based decisions that changed the course of my life at times. It just saddens me when I think of the time I wasted being off track and having to find my way back to the main road. I know some of you are thinking, well that’s why we have mistakes to learn how to get it right. I totally agree, however, sometimes we stay on a wayward path beyond our due date. These are the times when God begins to through dirt in our eyes to regain our attention, our focus, our energy. Where your attention goes, your energy flows. Be careful who or what gets your attention. Then your energy will be focused on that thing or person. It can be good at times, when that person or thing helps us to be a better person. A person more connected to the source, which is God.

Let me make a caveat here. There is only one God. There may be many names, methods, languages, ways and things done or created to represent Him, but there is only one HIM. Either you are for the Good or the evil. There is very little gray matter here. God is Love, Goodness and Justice. HE is the creator of everything, but lives in the ideas and feelings that do not derive from fear. What is fear? Fear are the intangible (mental/spiritual) things that hold you back from what your heart desires. Things like insecurity, loneliness, hate, jealousy, pride, lust, laziness, greed, anger, depression and selfishness. Those things come from fear. It is a fear of the unknown. Those who are fearful, tend to compete. Sometimes, it is a simple fear of losing, rather having the perspective of learning from the feelings of defeat and arising again anew. If defeat is set in your heart, then how can you win? A righteous man fall seven times, and rises eight. Now, these numbers represent concepts: seven is completion, and eight is new beginnings, or infinity. We must change our perspective and take a bird’s eye view. A Godly view of life changes everything.

In Time...(you'll see)

Im not afraid of you
I don’t even see you
How dare you...?
Are you aware how you...?
Do you even know who you are?
Cause I do
Im not afraid of you
Been running from demons
Long before you came on the scene
The devil has spoken with me
And every time he tried
He still ain’t got with me
I use to run from him
But now I just sit and stare
Running wastes time and energy
I know who he is
we’ve danced this 4/4 waltz before
Before I knew who I was
Before I realized why he was
Always chasing me
So I stopped running
In Time,
I gained and learned and stored
my defense leans in knowing
and identifing who he is--- in
Facing fear has empowered me
I don’t see him but me
And all the things that would slay me
If they could get inside me
So I’m not afraid of--- you
How dare you.....
Assume that your mortal presence
Would send me hurling?
I’ve seen spirits and ghosts and demons
And angels with these large brown eyes
And even my third eye aint blind
Its just that my mouth aint always kind
And I try to speak life not death to those
Who ain’t ready for the Divine
Power that I emit with my mind
Like a muscle I exercise it with
discipline

Focusing on the GoOD Godly things
That keep me way above this B.S. you deal with
So hard to stay the course
So hard to be soft and feminine
So hard to stay in this role that GOD has chosen for me
When I just want to show you
I aint scared of you
But what would that prove
While walking away seems more to suit
Your meaningless regurgitations of things you
Know nothing about
Using words not knowing their true origin
To confuse people in believing you know a thing or two
When I’ll tell you I don’t know sh*t
About that bullsh*t
But I do know,
I aint afraid of you
I’ve been dying for you to step to me
But I know a fair fight could never begin
So I wait
I wait
My scorpion tendencies want to kill
But my higher self sees that
It would only lend you fame
Cause you made me kill
Am I that ill?
My emotions I can distill
Until the time comes
Where I won’t be still
I feel the future
And your energy aint there
So I don’t care what you do now
Cause I am not afraid of you
I know you
Seen your moves in slow motion
Towards your final destination
The evil one told me your secrets
Your fears
Cause he knows that i could
Deal fatal blows
With hate
But I love
Love kept me here
Love conquers fear
It’s the sacrifice
Many of us fear
So I carry Love with me
Inside of me
Like a child, she’s evolving with me
About 8 or 9
She ready for perfection
Age 10= 1
Cause it all starts with me
So do you really want to
Verbally spar with me?
A master of words only
Because I know there are no rules
With this language
I go back to latin
If it, non sequiter
then, mea culpa
My French will ferme la bouche
Until your Spanish asks que pasa?
I speak shalom to my Hebrew friends...

Now I lend my ear to
Hear you
Preach and mumble
Bout what you know
But you don’t feel it
the person who desires it the most
gets it
Why won't you forget it?
your lack of passion
has already forfeited this mission
So what you gone do?
Now that we’ve cleared the air
You still aint crossed this line
You drew in the sand
I don’t desire to fight you
But I aint afraid to cross it
For my loss
It would be worth the cost
to bear the cross
And wear the marks of a woman scorned
But not beaten or battered
nor will I be bitter

See, I’ve done that before;
So my soul chooses to sleep like bears
While I hibernate through another cold winter...

Finding Your Voice

Recently, I was asked, "why don't you say the pledge of allegiance?" And I replied with the same answer, albeit a bit more sophisticated, that I gave to my sixth grade teacher, "Until this country lives up to the meaning of its creed, I cannot pledge my allegiance to an entity that has no faith/trust in its people, and treats us as second class citizens."

These words were repeated from the mouths of my role models, my mentors, who were my Godmother, two sisters and brother. My Godmother was a revolutionary herself, but in a very refined feminine way. Her style was more Martin L. King, Jr., so her motto would be, "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," and now I understand that method as I am rearing my 30s. However at age ten, I felt a kinship to the style of Malcolm X, so wearing my black, red and green bracelet like my sisters seemed more empowering. My siblings, who were all in college at the time, were more forthright in their ideas and beliefs. Now, as their eager protégé, I began to be interested in the same things they were. I did what most young people do--emulate the people of their time or environment. Luckily, my environment consisted of political debate, religious discussions and a constant reminder that I came from a legacy of leaders, agitators, truth-seekers and people who stand for what they believe. Like a sponge, I soaked up their ideas, beliefs and dreams into my own. I began to read books such as, Black Like Me, The Holy Bible, The MisEducation of the Negro, Isis Papers, etc., and although I didn't know all the words, reading them with my role models helped me to feel the meaning of the words. Involuntarily, my path had begun, a purpose was planted in my heart, and although I didn't know it then, I had begun to form my own voice. I was building a belief structure, and I wanted my actions/behavior to mirror the things I had the audacity to speak into existence.

Admittedly, my 10-year old mind didn't understand the magnanimity of my words or actions, but I did know that I meant what I said, and that feeling of purpose has followed me since.
Now, you're probably wondering what were the effects of my little display of civil disobedience, huh? Well, it wasn't done haphazardly. My then-best-friend and I planned to remain seated when the school announcement for the pledge came on the intercom that morning in 1990 at Coro Lake Elem. So, first thing that morning we prepared for whatever happened. I informed my sisters of my plan and they were 100% supportive. So armed with confidence, we remained seated while my classmates followed orders and stood for the pledge. I guess, somebody didn't tell one of my classmates that snitching was a "no-no", and he called us out. Immediately, my then-best-friend stood up to blend in with the other students. I was surprised that she left me hanging, but I stood or sat firmly on my beliefs. When the teacher told me to stand, I refused. I was shaking. I was nervous. I was alone in this, but I couldn't turn back now because all eyes were on me. She asked me again, I was silent and remained seated. When the pledge ended, she came and stood right in front of my desk and questioned my reasons for not following her orders. I remember looking her straight in the eyes, not breaking the stare, not raising my voice and definitely not moving out of that desk. I wanted her to know that this was important to me, that this was something I had to do for me because this belief was apart of me. Threatened by my independence, she threatened to send me to the office, to call my parents. I replied, by simply being still waiting for her to do what she felt she had to do because I, too, was doing what I felt I had to do.

When that threat of consequence didn't work, she asked me to step in the hallway. After a moment to regain the feeling in my legs, I followed her into the hallway. She told me that she didn't want to "write me up" because I was one of her best students. She couldn't understand why I wouldn't just do it. Once she realized that she wasn't able to change my mind, she told me that if I insisted on not pledging to the flag, I would have to sit in the hallway every morning. This may not sound like much punishment, but this was elementary school, and the time before the pledge was the opportunity to talk and congregate with my friends before class started. Also, "bad" students sat in the hallway. It wasn't the type of recognition I was accustomed to receiving, but this was the sacrifice or the consequence for my act of civil disobedience.

Of course, they contacted my house only to reach my sister who came to the school and supported me. I was blessed to say the least, but it was a pivotal moment for me. My classmates looked at me differently. The little boys didn't tease me as much after that because for all their "disobedience" they never stood up to a teacher and "got away with it." I don't know if "I got away with it" because I was given the choice to assimilate or sit in the hallway during the pledge each morning. I chose the latter, and every morning between 8am and 8:15 that's where you'd find me. And my Judas then-best-friend decided later to join me in the hallway every morning after the initial "showdown." lol.
And because I was her friend, I forgave her. It was lonely being a revolutionary at age ten.

Although no one else joined us consistently, I remember once or twice when a another student refused and joined us just to "see" or came to school late to "see" what was happening in the hallway. The movement didn't go as swiftly as I had planned, but I was an army of one, then two and sometimes three or four. Regardless, I realized then that it only takes one person to take a stand before others to follow. No matter where I was or what program we attended, I never acknowledged the pledge or the flag. From distasteful looks at ballgames or school functions, I remained true to my beliefs, and could defend them verbally if necessary.

This is the story I tell my students at the beginning of the school year to introduce my lesson on "Finding Your Voice." I began to find my voice at age ten and I challenge them to find theirs or tell the story of when they found their voice, when they decided to stand for something that defined them. This is where character begins and ends--in the actions you display and the truth you do or do not speak. Words are great tools, but are useless without action. So what are we servant leaders or followers? A person of faith or doubt? Confident or ashamed? Full of love or fear? Whatever it is, what makes you, you? Yet, at the same time, I stress that there are consequences or effects to every thing, and be smart and prepared for what comes because "knowing who you are" is not a spectator sport or a game. So when the feet hit the pavement, where will you be? For what belief will you be willing to take a stand, and simultaneously, the great fall to servant leadership?

Who's Teaching Your Children?

I remember growing up seeing the commercials that asked parents the infamous question, “Do you know where your children are?” Well, now that we know where our children are located, the all important question that most of us failed to ask, “Do you know Who is teaching your children?” Why are we allowing strangers to teach and mold the minds of OUR children, our babies? If our children are a testament to our legacy, why have we failed to seek this fundamental truth? Who are these “teachers” given to us from our local education system? Do we know how teachers are trained? Who decides what makes a “good teacher”? Let’s put aside the term “highly qualified” because a child molester can be smart, with all the right credentials, but it doesn’t indicate whether or not he/she is a “good” person or a “good” fit to educate our children.

As an educator, we are required to take a few psychology-based courses on child development. These classes convey how humans grow and evolve based on the stimuli in their early child development to adolescence. It only sounds right, huh? However, the business of education tends to negate these teachings because we all know that the idea of standardized tests is a faulty checks and balances system that forces schools to compete for money from the government. In addition, this governmental system curves the national scores based on the highest score attained, which doesn’t say much for our educational standards. Inasmuch, these standardized tests are not based on Bloom’s Taxonomy, which lends itself to more inductive (creative) thinking, rather than deductive (systematic) thinking. Neither is right or wrong, but what are we “training” our children to be: creative beings that are encouraged to create a better world and love themselves in their journey of life or robots that can only do things within a specified paradigm? Most of us have been trained in the latter. This is the reason some of us have difficulty seeing beyond our literal sight. If we can’t see it, we don’t dream. For instance statements such as, “that’s just how the system is” or “we have to do things exactly like this” or “we can’t change this.”

The bible states, “where there is no vision the people perish” (Proverbs 29:18) and we wonder why many students loathe coming to school? They do for the same reason most of us loathe going to our jobs. Simply, creating more people like ourselves who will live “quiet lives of desperation”-Henry D. Thoreau. This is why teens tend to rebel because where before they believed the words of adults, then they begin to see the hypocrisy of it all. Their feelings of frustration grow because they can’t articulate it and their anger sets within them when we fail to admit the truth. It is so sad because we don’t realize how much we hurt ourselves, but we’ve been train to think this is the “way out” when this deductive thinking keeps us “trapped inside” like rats in a barrel of cream, competing. This is why “inner city” “urban youth” don’t respect most authority figures. It is because they see more than we give them credit. The thing that many of us sacrifice (“our righteous mind”), they refuse to do. They do things their way, right or wrong, they follow their minds. They choose not to compete in the system the same as we choose to do, but needless to say, we are both fighting the same fight, just differently. However unified in goal, the adults choose to accept the paradigm that does a dis-service to our youth and sacrifice what we know to be right or “make sense” to what the curriculum states that “the learner will….” It is not appropriate for us to judge how our youth have learned to adapt in a corrupt world when we have not adequately provided any protection for them. First thing first, don’t do that. It is unfair. Second, Socrates stated, “a wise man admits he knows nothing,” and if we admit this we can learn so much more. We can listen to our youth and discover how we can solve this problem, but again, I ask, what are the teacher’s duties? As Denzel Washington’s character in “The Great Debaters” defined the role of the educator, we “…are here to help you to find, take back and keep your righteous mind because obviously you have lost it.” Even in this statement, Washington’s character understands the meaning of education. In ancient Greece, Socrates argued that education was about bringing out what was already within the student. The word education comes from the Latin e-ducere meaning "to lead out." Many contemporary teachers aren’t encouraged to do this because of the importance placed on state standardized tests. As an educator who has taught in the public school system, it is not because they don’t want to, but a simple case of mis-education.

How can we say we care about our children when we know what most of them really need to succeed--Love, Security, Identity, Acceptance. We know they aren't getting it at home. If we want our children to pay attention, we must first satisfy their basic needs. No Child Left Behind isn’t helping; our children are still being left behind. For some, if those basic needs aren't met, then that’s another barrier to keep them from achieving. I ask myself constantly, "What are a teacher's technical duties? And how do these "duties" correlate with the reason most people decide to become teachers?" Or, are the technicalities distracing us from what's really important?

I have seen great teachers bombarded with paperwork on top of the everyday stress of working in "inner city" schools. Let's stop and evaluate OUR situation--what kind of school do we want to have? We all discuss the flaws in the system, but it is OUR fault because we perpetuate it. Our participation sustains it. If we get what we attract, then what are we asking? According to God’s words, “And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive” (Matthew 21: 22). So when are we really going to ASK God for what we really desire? If we don’t like our current circumstances, then how are we proactively instituting change? If we want to locate the problem, we need only look in a mirror. Oddly, it is usually the youth who challenge the verity and integrity of rules. Maybe their eyes are still naive and hopeful. I realize that a lot of adults transfer these feelings of failure to our children because we don’t want them to get hurt. However, it is our lack of hope and faith in change that cripples our children, not necessarily the system itself. We must remember not to compete because when we do, in that sense, we lose. The only limitations in life are the ones we create in our minds. It’s strange; as many of us get older, we accept what we once fought against because we have to afford the lifestyle we always dreamed and have acquired. In the day, we transform into robots (“robo” greek for “slave”), however at night, we return to ourselves. Zora Neale Hurston illustrates how this transformation occurs in Their Eyes Were Watching God, “...now, the sun and bossman were gone, so the skins felt powerful and human. They became lords of sounds and lesser things….They sat in judgment.” We sit at home or amongst our peers and complain, hoot and holler about what ills us, but when will we be ready to make the sacrifices to create real change in our lives? We must delight ourselves In the LORD, ”…and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart,” so “let your requests be made known to GOD” (Philippians 4:6). Therefore in all things, “pray without ceasing,” (Thessalonians 5:17) so that we may have the abundant life that Jesus has promised us in John 10:10.

Furthermore, why must we allow strangers to determine how we educate OUR children. Who decides what is taught in the curriculum? What is tested or assessed? What is important for our youth? Who do we allow to decide this? Is it the people who use the education system as a stepping stone for corporate advancement? Is it people whose limited classroom experience prevents them from truly identifying with the grassroots teacher in the classroom? How can an administrator help if they really don’t understand or identify with my struggles? Many try, but the real question is what are we being trained to do? Regardless, we cannot blame them because they are doing the same as us, following the guidelines of a system that we do not really agree. Yet, many of us can hear the snake in the grass. The implementation of public education was to keep children out of the job market. Upton Sinclair's, The Jungle depicts the rigors of child slave labor in America. Now, I agree that children shouldn’t have to be subjected to work in those harsh conditions, so what do we want for them? Have we ever stopped and thought about what type of training or education would be required to produce well-rounded, happy human beings? Or, is the goal to simply compete?

However, these public schools trained the students to have "sufficient" knowledge and “critical thinking skills” to be a future worker in the new corporations of the Industrial Age. The tycoons of Carnegie Steel and Rockefeller's Standard Oil are the examples of corporations that funded public education and HBCUs (Historically Black Colleges & Universities). In the novel, Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison refers to the "unveiling statue," he states, "I wonder if the founder is removing the veil (symbolizing "ignorance") or making sure it’s firmly in place." Ellison alludes to his experiences at Tuskeegee University and questions the motives of his patrons, and their reasons for contributing money toward the poor man’s education. Simultaneously, I recall Spike Lee's message in the film, “School Daze.” His ending message to “Wake Up” resonates the conflict in Ellison’s The Invisible Man. The same question, “are we being trained or educated?” More importantly, if you don’t know the difference, then “wake up.” All in all, we still find ourselves chasing the proverbial carrot, while we are losing the real battle with our children.

I believe that we all have more power than we assume. To whom much is given, much is required, and yes, we must do what we have to do, so we can do what we want. Moreover, the speech I heard so much from teachers and community leaders was "go to school and you can be whatever you want to be." Therefore, I went to college to be educated, to be free, yet I, similar to many of my peers find our dreams mocked by the stress of making money and losing the thing that is most valuable--Time. If education is supposed to "free" us, then why do most of us feel "trapped" with our degrees and jobs? Why are our hands tied from doing what we know makes more sense than a rule or procedure? At one time, teaching Blacks to read was against the law, allowing Blacks to vote was against the law, but we identified them as unjust laws. St. Augustine understood that, "An unjust law is no law at all." If we feel that something is unjust, then WE decide to be reactive or proactive. Instead of being reactive, we must unify and decide proactively. It has been said that "The truth shall set you free." Nevertheless, if our education doesn't allow us to freely decide for our schools and communities, then are we truly free? And better yet, has what we've been taught the truth?

Preaching To the Choir

Some say men are like dogs
Pissing on posts
They go once
They go twice
Marking territory
Like time
Thinking that the spreading
Of their sperm
Will make them
Last Longer, live longer
Than the time
that days
Lend them
but women are a little different
Sexual conquests for a woman
Aren’t the same as a man
And men fall blindly into our power game
We just want to see
How far will you go?
How much will you do?
I just want to see…
How much you care about me
So will you…
cheat, leave your girl, pay my bills
The rules are simple
When love ain’t in it
Women just want to see what power they can hold
Or withhold like their pussy’s made of gold
But what value has gold if you don’t desire it
But gold diggers don’t realize that jewelry
Depreciates once it’s been worn
So all this worn pussy around me
Has to find other things to make it seem
Worthwhile and happy
When perhaps
It should have first been happy with itself
A Happy pussy attracts a happy dick
but misery loves company
So don’t blame me for what you
Perceive as scarcity
When in reality there’s more
Than enough to go around
Is it my fault that your faith ain’t strong
Because if you believed
You wouldn’t be trying to f*ck
Every marcus, kevin and dejuan in town
Oh, ye of little faith
Cast your net and leave it alone
Women must we attempt to bone
Every hard rock in every city
Can we find our integrity
Our honesty
But honestly,
Women ain’t sh*t
I know there’s five bitches
In this room trying to f*ck
My man
Spread their coochies around
Like sh*t hittin’ the fan
How does a real lady expect a Man
To be a Man when
The women ain’t doing their job
We should be the bullsh*t stoppers
The balance checkers
But we’re too busy trying
To be men
To relish in the power of Woman
True power is wielded quietly
So if a man wants to be
The Man
I say let em!
Its their turn to be accountable
I’ll happily sit back
Let them take back the burden
And be the creators they should be
Let them till the land
And be responsible for the decisions at hand
I’m tired of trying to be both he and she
Male and female
Ying and yang
I’m ready to share this power I claim
I’ll gladly be the consultant while the
World looks at him
For verification
My presence is simply needed
for the fortification
Of his words
And my loyalty speaks volumes
Although you may think me quiet
We confuse quiet with weak
But that’ll only make the room quiet when I speak
I may not say much
but some say
when I do its profound
Like andre 3K, I’m not extra extra, I’m complexly plain
But I’m so not jane
I’m strong enough to be the ying and the yang
But like my girl Jill scott, I’m not afraid to admit it
the fact is....
Yes, I can pay my own bills,
buy my own shoe collection and
Kill the spider above my bed, but I choose Him
He thinks I may not need Him
yet I desire the God in Him
and desires are what GOD placed in you
at conception
so how can anyone take what my GOD
gifted me?
That's blasphemy
I recognize when GOD's feeding me
his grain I digest
when at best the system
tries to make women go against it,
I mean--Him
divide and conquer our trinity
redefine our histories
and they want me to accept
my oppressors’ view of matrimony?


I understand that the controlling energy
Wants to separate the me from Him,
The fe from my male,
The rib that GOD gave me from Him;
But thats malevolent
so I am resilient
When defeat weakens and conquers your
Feminine pride
You hide it
But I ride it
Holding on to my womanly principles
Gives me power
I take it and stride it
It makes me stronger, wiser
Cause let’s be honest
Life is a perpetual test
Of your staying power
Your propensity to stick to your so called virtues
And while some of us choose not to choose
I am
Cause I can’t fail
I just express what
The test failed to evaluate
And there’s no measurement
Of me
Shoot, you should know
I don’t compete;
I love to see you be you
As I love to be me
When we are not afraid
to Be Free
So f*ck that male figure that
Attempted to destroy you
We must figure that he or it was
Only a figure of someone’s imagination
Cause a real man isn’t a figure
But a Statute, a Law of GOD’s reflection
And we must first learn
to seek and identify the God
To find the man
Unless we want our love wasted like quick sand
I don’t understand why
We have a problem with it
A feminist overstands the power of Woman
And I quietly proclaim it
In the beauty shops
Fitting rooms
Sorority meetings
In the kitchen
I have no set place
But I know my place
Which is no physical thing
Because wherever my man is
He is inadvertently spreading my views
If WE are one
And one, WE are
if He is my Man
WE shall speak in unity even when apart
So my presence is present
Wherever He goes, I goes
WE goes,
but I’m sure this You
Already knows,
Cause I’m preaching to the choir, right?

Hopeless Runaway

Who would have considered me a runaway? Yet, that’s exactly what I did—I ran away. I chose not to confront my emotions and tucked them sloppily away in the back of my mind. I was a coward, the opposite of all the attributes I measured myself against everyday. My competitive spirit wouldn’t allow me to admit defeat. I didn’t want to lose the first person who showed me love. No, I simply was not ready to lose the one person who meant so much to me in the world. People say you can’t cheat death, so I refused to play his game. I figured if I wasn’t around to face Death, then my sister would have to live. She had to because I couldn’t see me without her.

Besides, I had hope. I had faith. The definition of hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best. Plus faith, which is the confidence or trust in a person or in God and in His promises as made through Christ by which humans are saved. Even though I couldn’t convey the works I was doing to manifest my faith. I was determined that I was in the ‘right’, my sister would live, and no one could tell me different.

My sister was diagnosed with a cancer in 1999. She had a malignant tumor on the front of her brain. At this time, I was a sophomore in college. After two brain surgeries, radiation and chemotherapy, the tumor returned larger each time. By 2003, the doctors determined that the tumor was inoperable, and that she should continue with chemotherapy treatments to help her live with it comfortably. “Hmmp, comfortably,” I thought. What does that mean? How does one live comfortably with cancer?
In addition to her illness, she continued to care for her husband and two children. She never revealed the pain she must have endured alone. Yet, that was my sister’s way. She was the one who kept the family together, who resolved family disagreements and kept us laughing instead of crying. Even in her hospital bed, she would make jokes about her illness. After each surgery, her on-going joke was that the tumor was apart of the family. It was her way of making light of the situation and putting our worries to rest. It was difficult to be upset with her for long because she was determined to protect those she loved with her contagious laughter. She understood that laughter, true laughter, released fear. We, my family, had always depended on her for that, but soon this would all change.

By this time, I was engrossed in graduate school and my new job that I didn’t realize the magnitude of her illness. There is one memory that sometimes haunts me. For my 23rd birthday, my sister surprised me at my job with my niece and nephew. I was happy to see them, but I was also busy with my new job. Still, I talked with them for awhile, toured the building, showed them my new office and before long they were set to leave. After exchanging hugs, I walked them to the front of the building. The front of the building was made of glass, so I was able to watch them as they walked around the building toward the back parking lot. As they were walking, my sister paused, almost stumbling, and leaned the weight of her body against the building. I recall my then 13 year-old nephew taking her arm for support. I didn’t know exactly what happened, but my heart screamed for me to run out to her. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just stood still, holding my breath. I felt like the character “Celie” from The Color Purple, when she saw “Shug” for the first time, because I couldn’t move. My legs were like trees planted in cement. I was afraid. I was afraid of what I saw---of what that meant. When the feeling returned to my legs, they had begun to move again, and were soon out of sight. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled a long sigh as I walked toward the entrance. As I pressed my face against the glass, I said a silent prayer, and wished that regret didn’t exist.

Thereafter, my life seemed to be moving in fast forward. I bought my first house, began a new career as a teacher, gained new ‘friends,’ and I was still trying to finish graduate school. With all this new responsibility, I began to party a lot. Almost any weekend I could be found in any of the city’s hot spots. I was a new socialite. I was apart of every committee or organization or trying to join one. Everyone knew my name. Although on the outside it seemed I had it all together, inside I was crumbling. In an attempt to escape my fears, I began to experiment with drugs from smoking marijuana to popping anxiety pills. Then, I began to lose weight excessively. In the course of a year, I went from 145 lbs to 115 lbs. Needless to say, I was stressed. I didn’t really talk with anyone about my problems; I was too afraid to reveal the ugliness I tried so desperately to hide from family and friends. People, including close friends, always viewed me as the go-to girl for sound advice. I was always the responsible one, so when I looked for someone to save me, they were looking for me to save them. In an effort to save myself, I turned to God. And on Sunday, September 26, 2004, I was baptized. I was a long way from perfect, yet I knew the help I required couldn’t be given from a human being. I needed divine intervention! I needed to know God better. I needed to change.

As I was getting my ‘so-called’ life together, everything seemed okay. Fixable. Possible. Normal. I was beginning to feel more hopeful about life. When Christmas came that year, I wanted to make my family happy, especially my sister. For Christmas, my family randomly picked names for gift exchange. I pulled my sister’s name, and I was excited to use this opportunity to purchase her a nice gift. I bought her an entire outfit including jewelry. It was my first time having enough money to get such a gift, and it made me feel full and hopeful. I don’t know why, I guess I thought that if I bought the outfit, my sister would have the opportunity to wear it and know that I loved her.

Two days after Christmas, I received the biggest shock of my life. My sister had a stroke. The stroke left her somewhat incapacitated. She could barely move nor was she able to speak intelligibly. Of course, she had her moments when she was herself, but as time went on her conditioned worsened. After the stroke, she was in and out of the hospital until our family decided to hire a hospice nurse to care for her at their home. The entire year of 2005, she was bedridden. We couldn’t afford the nurse full-time, so we took turns sitting with her, watching her, talking to her—just trying to pour our love into her with the time she had left. I say ‘we,’ but I wasn’t really around as much as I should have been. Although my sister was the one that kept the family together, her illness led to our family arguing more and more. Who should do this? Who’s going to pay for that? Why are you doing it this way? Why aren’t you here? I guess that’s why it was difficult to be there for her as I should have. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that she might die. I didn’t want to give in to the thought that I would lose my sister, the woman who raised me and cared for me more than my mother. Even though it seemed I should have been around the most. I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit there and just watch my sister die before my eyes. See one of the strongest people I knew, simply wither up and die. And cancer doesn’t just hit you all at once. It is a slow death, and everyone knows the end. Yet, everyone tries to be happy and pretend that death isn’t waiting around the corner. I didn’t want to fall prey to that lie. Selfishly, I couldn’t make myself commit to the programmed actions of a caretaker. Instead, I ran away.
I reverted to my old ways of dealing with stress and life. I hit the clubs again—partying, narcotics, losing myself with ‘so-called’ friends, anything to make me forget the reality of my life. It was as if I couldn’t tell one day from the next. Everything was a blur. My life was like watching a dvd while pressing the fast forward button. I had lost so much weight that people thought I was anorexic. Yet, I couldn’t see what they saw. I was too busy trying not to think.

It wasn’t until I was visiting my mother that I became aware of my appearance. She not-so-tactfully pointed out that she could see my collar bones protruding. I recall brushing her off because I didn’t want to talk about it. She was trying to get me to eat, but I found that stress stole my appetite. However, that night I finally stopped and looked at myself. I removed all my clothes and stood in front of the mirror. The funny thing was… I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. She looked afraid, self-conscious, lonely and deflated of hope. Nowhere in that mirror could I find me. I was lost. My face was skinny. My large brown eyes were the dominating feature on my face. It was if I was vanishing before my very eyes, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t know how to fix it. It was so odd that I could ‘fix’ the problems of my friends, co-workers and students, but not my own. Terrified of what I saw, I ran to ‘fix’ it the only way I knew how. However, this time was much different than the past. This may seem strange to some, but I’ve always been a spiritual person, who believes in signs. So, this time when I tried to escape, it was different. I remember praying while I was ‘high,’ and pleading with God:

LORD, please, help me, LORD. I just don’t think I can do it. I want to be there for my sister, but I’m having a hard time seeing her like this. I just don’t want her to be in any more pain. I need you. She doesn’t deserve to die, LORD. She has a family, children to look after, and I have no one. No one needs me. I’d rather it be me, LORD. I don’t want to live anymore. If there’s a choice, take me. I’m so tired of making mistakes and feeling guilty. I don’t know what to do, LORD. I have no one to talk to because all my friends look to me for guidance, and I’m afraid to be seen as weak. My family doesn’t really know me. I don’t have anyone to save me, LORD. Whatever you tell me I will do, LORD, I promise, just help me, guide me, show me which way I should go.

Beginning that Friday night, I went through a three day transformation. I was fighting the demonic spirits I had let loose in my life. I was hearing voices and having terrible nightmares. This time the drugs didn’t work. I couldn’t runaway from this because it was inside of me. It was then that I realized the commitment I made to God during my baptism was real. Some people say that they’ve never heard God speak to them. Well, HE spoke to me! God spoke to me in a way that I will never forget. It wasn’t in the literal sense, but HE was in my dreams, mind, heart and soul. It’s hard for me to explain, but it was as if I could hear this voice that was always constant. It told me to look at this, try this, ask yourself this question, do it this way, etc. This was a voice that I don’t think I’d heard before in my life. I’ve always thought God just spoke to certain people until it happened to me. The voice startled me at first until I realized that it sounded like my own, but stronger, wiser, calmer compared to the other voice(s) I would hear when making decisions. For three days, I dwelled in complete silence—no television or radio. I didn’t realize how much noise I put into my life until then. When everything was shut off and quiet, it became easier for me to hear God’s voice. HE asked, “How can I use you as an example? How can I use you to lead others if you choose to lead this life?” As an educator, a leader, people were looking to me for guidance. God revealed to me that the most damaging spirit of all that I had to fight was fear. HE told me fear was at the root of all I was doing and until I conquered it—HE wouldn’t continue to bless me. HE showed me how my world would be without HIS protection. And that world was chaos. It was the most frightening thing I could imagine. HE told me I had a choice to make, and if the choice wasn’t HIM, then this would be my world. Immediately, I wanted no parts of that, so I chose HIM, with no doubts or reservations. It was like parts of me were dying, so that I could live. I may have been afraid of my sister’s death and all of the other things I was trying to escape, but I was more fearful of living without God’s protection. For me, the choice became easy. I would accept my life as it was, and confront my fears.

By Sunday, I was determined to change. I began to face my demons, but it wasn’t easy. I really had to change my life—what I did, who I did it with, the places I went—all had to change. I stopped partying, the narcotics and the running away. I commenced to spend more time with my family, and visiting my sister more. I began to take a more active role as one of the caretakers, but as fate would have it my sister’s conditioned still worsened. I prayed and read the bible almost every day. I had faith. I was filling my heart with hope one day at a time. If God could save me, then maybe I could ask HIM to save her. So, I read every faith-based book, watched all the shows on the Inspiration channel and attended church regularly hoping my faith would heal my sister. I was a junky, but I was a junky for the LORD! I was determined to make up for lost time. I was not about to lose my sister.

Why does it seem that when you are trying to change your life for the better that things get worse? I don’t know, but they did. At the onset of 2006, my sister had lost her ability to speak or move. There were times that it seemed she didn’t know who I was. It was like she didn’t even recognize me. When she would try to speak, there were no words, just sounds like grunts or moans. It was depressing to see her this way, but I was still hopeful. One day, as I was driving to my sister’s house, I prayed for God to give me a sign. Any sign to let me know that HE would heal her. From all my reading, I learned that you must be specific when praying because you get what you ask for, so that’s what I did. I made a specific request of God. Since she hadn’t spoken or walked in weeks, all I wanted was to be able to see her walk. I wanted to hear her talk. I wanted to see her the way I remembered her before the illness. I wanted to see her smile and recognize and acknowledge me. When I arrived at her house, I heard my mother’s voice and a little laughter. I quickly ran up the stairs to see what was happening. I entered the room to see my sister walking with the help of a walker towards me. Then she said, “hey, girlie, what’s up?” I was so caught off guard, I was speechless. I managed to respond a feeble, “nothing much, happy to see you walking.” She replied, “Well, I have to go to the bathroom. I’m feeling a little better today for some reason.” As my mother walked behind her toward the bathroom, she gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. I was so elated and surprised at the same time. I remember getting on my knees right then and there and thanked God for answering my prayer. I couldn’t believe it worked so fast! At that time, I just knew that everything was going to be okay. I had nothing to worry about because God was going to save my sister. My heart was swollen with hope and idealism. It was soon to be New Year’s, and as far as I was concerned I had gotten my Christmas wish.

However, time was not my friend. Her small display of health didn’t last long. It was near the end of January, I remember because it was close to my mother’s birthday, my sister had some type of seizure and they rushed her to the hospital. On February 2, 2006, the doctors felt the family should come to the hospital to be with her. Although we all knew what that statement meant, I refused to sit and wait for my sister to die. I arrived at the hospital around 6:00pm. I recall my family standing around the hospital bed praying and saying our goodbyes. It was like a dream or some cruel nightmare. It seemed unreal. I just knew that I would wake up any moment now; this could not be my life! I had changed! I did what was asked of me. God had given me a sign, so I knew that this just had to be a test of my faith. Some routine thing doctors did when they really didn’t know what to do. So, I played along with the routine. In my heart, my sister would live. It is what I believed, so it was the only thing real to me, not this ‘movie-like’ scene that was happening. It all had to be a joke. In my arrogance and conceit, I just knew God wouldn’t do me wrong, that death wouldn’t take her. Convinced of my conclusion, I decided to leave the hospital. I held tight to my hope. My faith kept me clutching to the idea that she would defeat this disease. She had fought it for seven years, thus far, I knew she’d be okay. This wasn’t the first time we had been at the hospital for her, so my heart hoped she’d pull through again.
For me, Hope was like this huge balloon that filled my chest and connected to my heart. I wasn’t ready to let go. I had done so much to get here in my life. I was here, sober and participating. This is where God wanted me, this is how HE wanted me and I hoped my obedience would be enough. So, at around 12:35am, I left the hospital to head home. My family looked at me strangely, but in my mind I knew something they didn’t. I had something they didn’t—hope. In my mind, she would still be there tomorrow, but yesterday became a memory too soon. I had only been gone for about ten minutes when my mother called urging me to hurry and return to the hospital. 12:45am. As soon as I parked my car and began to walk across the street toward the hospital, my mother called. She said, her voice quivering, “Lisa passed, Crystal, she passed at 1:00am, February 3rd.” If only I had ten more minutes, I thought to myself, as I ran through the hospital doors. If only I wasn’t so damn selfish! If only I had faced my fears sooner, I would have had more time with her. If only I would have done so many things differently. As I ran, I tried to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other. I ran past the security guard and his useless attempt to stop me. I ran past the other hospital patrons and their probing eyes who knew what I was running toward—who knew what my running must have meant. I was running up the stairs because the elevator was too slow for my heart to wait. I was running, hoping to catch up with time. I needed more of it. I needed it to rewind. I needed it to stop, so I could beat the shit out of it. I needed my sister to forgive me. For not being there...not showing the right amount of care....I don't know what I needed. I ran until I reached her room’s open door. Out of breath, I stood in the doorframe. As I stepped inside the room, I gazed at all the sad crying faces before my eyes stopped at my sister’s body peacefully lying in the bed. I froze.
My balloon that was full of hope, slowly seeped to empty.

Why Teach Our Children to Dream?

Why teach our children to dream? Why should we encourage creative thought? Why should we encourage them to think for themselves? Accountability? Responsibility? How do we convey that we honor these qualities?

Is it through standardized tests? How does a standardized test measure if a child is accountable or responsible? Which leads me to ask the question: Who is really being assessed in this situation: the teacher or the child?

Needless to say, I am an educator, a teacher of high school English language arts. Furthermore, I love to read. I enjoy delving into a new world through the pages of a novel. In high school, I learned that words symbolized so much. I began to recognize the secrets hidden within words. How each had multiple meanings and I would enjoy taunting my cool and un-geeky friends with my sarcasm. I participated in the A.P. classes (Advance Placement), which offers college credit to high school students. I was even ranked number eleven in my graduating high school class. Originally, I was number 8, but was bumped down by a few students who took A.P. Art?! Admittedly, I was a bit sour because I took A.P. English for two years and A.P. History. Now, I’m not saying Art isn’t challenging because it can be. I took painting and photography courses in college, and it was not as easy as I thought. Yet, I still do not care. I suppose I am still a little upset about the whole A.P. Art thing, but do you see my point? Maybe my “top ten” status would have qualified me for more scholarships? Nevertheless, am I any less smart, intelligent or clever simply because a few A.P. Art students bumped me out of the top ten? I don’t believe so.

This leads me to ask the following questions: Can a test really measure the potential of a human being? What is the significance of a few points on a test? Why are we forcing our children to compete? Not just compete, healthily, but at the cost of self esteem, self confidence and self worth. If a student doesn't do well on these tests, are they, therefore, incompetent? I have heard stories and met people who went to college that were labeled as ADHD, with Learning Disabilities, or Physically Disabled. Why must we have other people tell us what's best for our children and our communities?

As an educator, I am disheartened, sometimes. I understand that we all have jobs, rules, regulations to follow, families, bills for which we are responsible and lifestyles to maintain. Yet, when is too much, too much? When is compromise simply defeat or better yet the failure to truly see the damage we are doing to our children? It so happens to be the same damage that was done to us. However, we didn’t have to wear uniforms in my generation. At least we maintained a seemingly little freedom and individuality with our clothing. What proof of creativity and freedom do our children have? Well, there are many schools that do not require a uniform, but there are many that do. My experiences all derive from schools with a uniform dress code. I understand that it may be advantageous to have a uniform dress code in an area or city with high percentages of gang violence. However, do the uniforms really decrease gang violence? Our children never cease to amaze me. If they want to do something, they will simply discover a more covert way to do it. So, if uniforms aren’t fully solving the problem, what is its real purpose? Or is it another systematic attempt to filter out the strong from the weak? Those who can get with the program from those who cannot? Survival of the fittest, is it? Or, simply, a technique geared towards influencing our children to compete in a system of rules that we had no power in creating. The same system that we once fought, but it seems we have forgotten with the onset of integration, affirmative action and the small amount of authority from the ‘powers that be’ who have willingly bestowed to pacify us and maintain their control of the masses. Our participation by acquiescing to “quiet lives of desperation” negates our power in this system of rules. Contractually speaking, if we truly comprehended these man-made laws (also known as positivism laws) we would prove many of them to be juxtaposed to the God given rights of man (also known as natural laws). I guess, it depends on Whom or what we value more: God’s law or man’s?

If we really care about our children, then there are a number of ways we could improve their quality of education, and it has nothing to do with tests or instructional strategies. I have discovered that most ‘problem children’ simply want someone to listen. They truly desire someone to see them as a worthy human—a child of God. Many unbelievers would be amazed at what can be achieved when a child feels empowered by an adult who expects as well as demonstrates moral and ethical standards. The majority of our children are living in poverty, abusive homes, states of depression, drug addictions, etc. Yet, we continue to find more ways to divide them, degrade their self worth with the onset of continuous testing. School can be an enjoyable place to be. Maybe not always fun, but where a child is in danger of learning something new every day. Envision school as a place that encourages research, freedom of speech, respect, tolerance, academia, integrity, growth and love of nature and mankind. Now, is that too much to ask from an educational institution? Or, is the pursuit of material wealth in excess our true goal?

If the purpose of language was to convey the truth, then let us revive an old tradition. The art of rhetoric was simply that, an art to use words to convey truth in various ways to persuade. However, we have forgotten to teach this lesson to our children because people use rhetoric everyday and we along with our children are not evaluating their abilities to use this sacred art. We allow our children to be influenced too easily. We must fight and teach our children to fight negative stimuli. In the words of Marian Edelman Wright, "we must reclaim the minds of our children." What do we do when we discover little Kevin listening to Snoop Doggy Dog or Nirvana? We become fearful of what we do not know. Listening to what the media says instead of sitting with little Kevin and listening to the lyrics together. Let's take an interest in our child, or are we too busy to get to know our own children. They should be seen and not heard, right? They will be until little Kevin has a gun at the school, is caught experimenting with drugs or alcohol or has an illegitimate child all before the age of sixteen. Then, we will hear him.

We must remember to dissect the truth from this new hybrid language called english. There was a reason slaves weren't allowed to communicate in their native tongue, so they had to learn the language of their slave masters. If life and death is in the tongue, what are we really speaking? Moreover, how often do we think on the origin of the words we speak? If symbols can maintain their meanings throughout the years, can words do so as well? Also, remembering that language includes body language as well as one’s tone of voice and facial expressions. However, if a person is not privy to all the perspectives of language and only the words, then where does that leave us? At the mercy of the written word, which can contain all types of irony, symbolism, and hold multiple meanings and puns? For instance, a person could write a book that twists the truth (we call them "white lies"), but if that book is found and read hundreds years later, who is there to validate or negate their language? For instance, John Milton's "Paradise Lost," is a story we now hear in church. It is the well known story of the devil being thrown from heaven. Oftentimes, the monarchy used artists to document their version of the truth. Since monarchies believed they were chosen by god to rule (divine right, sovereignty, manifest destiny), they only saw fit that their legacy be documented as well.

We must not forget that language can be used to manipulate and control, as well as to do Good. We must not become lazy, but must always challenge our leaders to speak to us truthfully and/or honestly. If not, then we must be aware of this coded language and decipher it. Not to willingly accept it by those who use their ivy league education and/or degrees in higher esteem than our own. It doesn’t take a Harvard graduate to think. Discernment is a God given right. For instance, in a college persuasive writing course, I was shown strategies on how to write objectively with opinions and biases. Did you catch that paradox? Now, that simply means that the words are objective, but the content is propaganda. How often is the news delivering propaganda and misinformation at us and disguising it as in fact, the truth. Yet, in school were we encouraged or taught to research information and be inquisitive or memorize, recite, identify and recall facts? I recall one of my favorite english teachers allowed our AP class to choose our own research paper topic. I was elated. I was finally able to CHOOSE the topic I wanted to research. I was an inquisitive sort. The assignment gave me the opportunity to discover a topic I found to be interesting. Now, I was fumbling in the psychology/philosophy section because at the time I desired to be a child psychologist. For some reason, I somehow fell upon John Paul Sartre’s book on existentialism. I was completely engaged in his ideology. I wrote and researched not dutifully, but instinctively asking questions and finding the answers to my own questions. It led to me question and research more and more throughout my life. It was then I realized that everything we learn has been recreated from someone else’s theory. Nothing is new, but recycled thought with new ideas that each person adds on like patches to a quilt. I wish more teachers were like Mrs. Carr. In her class, I learned not only how to write better, but I learned about myself because she allowed to us to be creative. But now, so many take the curriculum “guideline” as the step by step directions to a destination. I was shown that there are many ways to a destination, and the journey is the best part. If everyone’s journey was the same, what fun would that be? Needless to say, I had a much more creative educational experience than my students, and this is what saddens me because I know mine wasn’t the best. I can only imagine those who had more resources along with their individuality and creativity. My family encouraged me to dream and to be free, and school only enhanced it. Now, I dream to help my students’ dreams come true. We must create a world that is safe for our children. It is the debt that all men pay, we sacrifice freedom for safety, but why can’t we have both?

Yes, we can! Change is possible. There is still hope. It is advantageous to teach our children to dream. It also may still seem as a disadvantage in some households. Households where deferred dreams are the norm, and the bitterness leaves remnants in the empty quiet spaces between people. The more I look around me I discover, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them”-Henry David Thoreau. Simply, following the rules of a job they dislike, producing more people who will be like them. And I am a part of this “training” that I find nonsensical to an extent. Regardless, I still dream and encourage my students to dream. Isn’t that what teachers do? We are to encourage the creative in the child to desire education and/or knowledge. Often, it has been referred to as an art. If teaching is an art, then why is it not treated as such? Either you can sing or you cannot; some people can draw, paint, have an eye for photography or they do not. Some artistic talents are inherent, some can be learned, but can the artist be cookie cutter? Can the artist be controlled? If so, then by definition, is what they produce still art? Art has always challenged the society of its time. Artists are always admired posthumously. I pray that the art of teaching does not befall the same fate.