Mine Matters

some say its mind over matter,
i used to think that mine didn't matter,
now i question what was the matter with my mind,
patience i couldn't find
and with so many matters on my mind,
ppl asked what was the matter all the time.
my mind got consumed
by insecurities and the sickness of self depreciation to which i thought i was immune
and my body got worried bout fate
the fact he it didn't know where it was headin kinda kept it awake
meantime the soul is getting frantic
disliked my wavering faith and had enough of the self hate antics

Guess who

You ever wonder why

Or question God's mind

cuz the pain inside

from bein on the outside

feels like it will never subside

he said that his works are beyond all understanding

but that doesn't work for us

we're suppose to serve him but treat the Almighty One as if he works for us
even worse, not humbled by his blessings,
doubting and always testing, trespasses we're never confessing.
why mimic the relationship he tries to establish
why turn ur back on change when all ur soul wants to do is grab it

Hate that those who've never experienced luv, openly reject their chance to have it

but I don't really know whats stranger

that i always feel endangered

or that the reflection that glares at me in the mirror is a total stranger

or that i can't stand what im turnin into

or why i feel like i never have someone to turn to
dialed in on life, i forget to call on God
some might fear a bad reception
but December 25 dismisses that very question.

prisoner of my own mind tryna escape imprisonment

yearnin to be free I'm askin for deliverance
I'm ready to change, ready to rid insecurity
ready to leave Satan, ready to search for purity
ready to leave dejection, ready to not deflect
ready to look Jesus in the eyes and tell him i accept
I'm ready to heal, and know it won't be easy, know their will be bumps in the road, so I guess i'm ready to fail.
Ready to look failure in the eyes and greet it with determination, let the hater know I'll be ready to rise
And i'm not much of a fighter, but I know there's a part of me that has to really go so i guess I'm ready to kill.
see i'm devoted to change, and leavin behind a lifestyle and life time bonds, i guess i'll be devoted to pain....

Too Late

You would think he would've learned
after all the cliches and displays
of love lost and then missed.

I hate it
That he didn't realize he loved me
when he said he loved me;
every time before we hung up the phone,
every time we made up and changed our tone.
Its been three months since we broke up
and now hes looking to make up
because he is realizing what he lost
and how much time he's cost
us. You and me, we.

You would think I would have learned
after all the cliches and displays
of love lost and then missed.

I hate it
that it takes fear for me to realize
how much I love him again.
It dwells in the attic of my heart;
still there collecting dust,
lasting through the rain and the rust.
Then when hes sick or in pain
I get shocked and start to regain
my father-daughter connection to him.
I miss him more when we are together
then when I am away,
hoping this feeling is here to stay.

You would think we would've learned
after all the cliches and displays
of love lost and then missed.

I hate it
that it takes disaster for the world to realize
God is our only hope.
In the mean time, we cling to religion
until tragedy hits and turns routine into fiction.
No more beads to pray with,
no scientists to turn miracle into myth.
Just hope for that everlasting love
never truly found on earth, so eyes turn to Thee above.

MKS

Change gon Come

Maybe it's me
for years, i've adopted an ideology and blamed it on my biology
men stand alone
but maybe its just me
i think the world is against me, but im finding out that im against it
a time ticking bomb, time and life moves on, and i resent it
know that time is money but don't know how to spend it.
blamed love for the lack there of, yet ignore it's presence from the Lord above
Stood stagnant, wouldn't budge
through a tug a war, my soul wanted to find its better half, tryin to pull my heart
ego forcefully pullin it back, relationships fallin a part
so i turn emo, feed off hate, highlight battle scars
rich in pain,blamin the lord for dealin me black cards
Life's hard, but harder when u need to be consistent
but life consists goals whose plans are non existent
i apologize, for lookin at the world with bitter eyes
lookin at my blessings and still think that im terrorized
its a mind state, i wish were simple to overcome
think the start is to always remember that im his Son.
word

Temporary Grasp

Reaching for a hug, your arms wrap around me, enveloping me once again
with thoughts of tender moments passed. I miss you, and I can tell you miss something
about me. Maybe its my presence, because lately when you are around,
your lungs cant seem to get enough air, trying to breath in every ounce of me.
Maybe it is my warmth, because your hugs get longer and stronger with every embrace.
Like it is the last time you will ever lean your chin on top of my mane, hold my waist, feel the tickle of my curls breeze across your arms, you memorize my body's connection to yours.
It could be the comfort you feel when you pull away and cup my cheek with your hands
that know me just as well as your eyes. Remembering how it was to lay around for hours just to be close, your eyes change and tell me how lonely you are. I start to pull my hand away from yours, but you refuse to let go, like it is going to take away the love I have for you. It is late,
so I say goodnight, and you walk away quickly, never turning back. I struggle to walk the other way, feeling as if we are magnets and our connection is to strong to separate. I get far enough, the pull releases, and we part into our own lives once again, only to hope for another embrace.

MKS

The Rob T-Shirt

Faded
into shades of brown and gold,
your ironed image
draws curious attention like an antique.
Your printed face surrounded by a white canvas
can still light up a room.
The charm behind your smile,
the spirit in your ember eyes,
cannot be expressed or erased.
Since you are unforgettable,
you are undefinable.
A young man who can never be replaced,
just embraced, even from just a glance
at an aging t-shirt.
People still want to know who you are,
and I can not give them a clear answer.
I just tell them you're my brother,
because if I even started to try
to describe who you are,
I could go for hours, but it still wouldn't be enough.
So I keep your memory alive in my heart
and let your picture do the talking.



Seven years since the last day I saw you, but it feels like seven decades!
Love you, Rob!

Remember Me

I never felt so close before
until i was closed out.. door shut
and slammed right on my heart
the pain in vein
my relationship with God tells me to love like I've never been hurt before
and since he blesses me
allowing the muscle of life to repeatedly beat
i repeat the offense, allowing myself to forray uninhibited into relationships
Unenviable friendships of
unevenness
Sometimes misleading
I hope, someday I'll be repayed, always allowing my friends to convey
their deepest feelings
but where were you when I needed it
When my eyes bled
streams of unenviable tears repetitously fell down my cheek
A feelin so unique
To a man, whose had 20 yrs to grasp and understand the fact that
men don't cry
but on this day, I couldn't help it
the words from my mother were like venom
poisoning my soul, and the result
were an aray of tantalizing thoughts, and pain that for years i've tried to hold
she was worried, about my demeanor, wanted me to get meaner
said the world is cold
don't sacrifice yourself if you yourself can't suffice
don't allow yourself to be misused and abused
these christian principles you follow find shallowness in this world in which hearts are hallow.
and as i struggled...with my identity. my lifestyle.. my essence
wondering why I strive to do right when others don't care if how they treat me was wrong..
emotionally unstable
psyche strangled
no one was there
nobody cared
life just went on...

a brother with a complex

have you ever met it

the obstacle that stands tall in front of you but is invisible

have you ever tried to ignore it, like a call from an unrecognizable number

then eventually realized that your only blocking your calling

people always say life is like a movie

somethin between disney and them rated r flicks

somethin between a luv story or a mind altering documentary

well if i told the story

from the directors cut

id make sure to send a message of power

conveying that the thing that has many constantly sustaining cuts and bruises

the thing that always stops the progression of a movements

a lifestyle of emptiness

no fuel to burn ur passionate fires

fluctuating faith and a life of unfulfilled desires

is fear

I wish that I could lie
say my heart didn't beat faster when you were around
That our hands never touched
That seeing you wasn't more than enough
To make my previously empty soul feel saturated
With happiness
Like my stomach wasn't in need of food.. u were more than eye candy.. ur auora nourished me. made me full
of words attached to children on the night before Christmas
your presence was God's gift to me
Him blessing me with Godly love meant a lot to me
I wish I never got excited when your name popped up on ur phone
Never bolted to another room
In need of privacy because I was involved with something so sacred
I wish we never hugged like we used to
Remember I used to press ur heart against my chest, holding onto your soft hair
whispering in your ear
if you felt the throbs of love my heart sent
Even as a writer it was you that made me believe that actions speak louder than words
Because when actions didn't miror words
I couldn't help but feel the opposite of that four letter words

O M G

sorry.. i've kind have been 'overposting' recently.. right now im in the lib.. tryin to bang out my first profile piece.. and i was just tryin to find somethin to listen to on youtube.. so obv.. i searched drake.. and i just clicked on this track... i mean.... the dude is just.. idk.. he just doesn't make bad music... he's just on some other stuff.. i literally was cheesin after the first verse.. i had to put down my headphones and walk around the library.. just to get my body warm cuz dude was just too cold... but everytime i sai i'm feelin someone everyone else gotta be like "y u on his jock." u can't even like another dude's music without bein dissed or called somethin that i'd have to PAUSE. lol.. aiight here's the track.. judge for urself..btw jazziye fizzle i see ur comments! i never kno how to respond cuz their so.... jazmin... i do wanna sai thnx for the luv... and im glad u can relate with the poems (this is my polite wai of saying STOP TRYNA TAKE CREDIT FOR MY WISE WORDS! j/k.) back to drizzy tho

in progress: what i've learned

i learned that drunken girls get exploited by overeager guys and in the aftermath try to hide that they were victimized
its always hard to look through a victims eyes, and harder for them to let pride subside
so they mask pain, find comfort within lies, espouse laughter find terror within cries
embedded in their psyche is that their feelins don't matter so their shortage of self appreciation is only a natural disaster
i learned that most college girls are tryna find themselves, but look for men to determine their self wealth
so their expedition turns into a search for mr wright
on that wrong plight
They determine that they cant be fine by themselves
i learned that most girls hearts are in relationships with dudes their mind knows they shouldn't have relations with
i learned that most dudes are kids satisfied with doing anything they can get away with,
their conscience needs growth, they have humility just need that tough luv to get them to display it
i learned that most dudes are smarter than woman ever give them credit for, females point out our immaturity to hide their insecurities, to convince themselves they havent settled for grown men they abhor
i learned that sometimes bein distant will render u as different
as haters conspire, fulfill their desire to make others seem inferior
Its merely to compensate for shallowness, they need something to fill their interior
and though its hard not to reproach, i adopted the approach to still show love, breakin the barrier

side bar
people say you hate the one's you love. i fear that most love those who they should hate. Their relationships are technically flawed, trying to establish a relation with hatred. disregarding the ugly truth, that they are looking for the beauty that relationships exemplify, in someone they abhor. but their eyes are blind, because thats how love is. so in an attempt to feel out, feel loved and feel comforted, they feel pain. desperately searchin for solid ground, but remain dwelling in a place uncertainty, slipping and losing their desire to get back up on their OWN two feet.... must be black ice, or a silver lining that they choose to consistently ignore.

As a journalism student about to embark on my senor year at the University of Massachusetts,I feel its only right to ne a bit reflective on my college experience. As a freshman I entered the vast campus as an undeclared student with equally prodigous aspirations, incapable of being told that my goal to fix all the problems in the world was a bit far fetched. My two loving parents
uttered words that many others in their position would, urging mme to stay grounded, relating the fact that a secure future is something that you want to bank on.
I swear I wasn't trying to be rebellious when I chose journalism as my career path.
My three years at Umass has been an invaluable experience, as I have been able to pick the minds, and delve into the bank of knowledge of some of the finest journalism mines the school has to offer. The process has been eye opening, as it has introduced me to a world, that is emerging and subletting at the same time. One that remains unbounded with no glass ceiling, one that satisfies my desires to utilize the skills that the university has equipped me with and
accomplish something illustrious. This summer of 2009, I became a member of the Media Giraffe Project, in attempt to help in their effort to shed light on those creating a better tommorow for others. Being able to profile others who made such innovative ideas come to fruition for the sake of democracy is full of worth.

ive got an idea

I am really excited that I have caught a breeze of inspiration to start writing again. It has been quite awhile, and even though my last post was quite random, I think it sparked something. For some time I have been really discouraged about writing my story about my sister. The words don't come out right, and its been a struggle between my soul and my brain. I want to write it so bad, and feel like the more time that passes, the more inaccurate my account of everything that happened is going to be. At the same time it just doesn't feel right to write about it when my thoughts aren't racing to come out while I punch the keys. So I have been at a stand still with that.

Due to this form of what you could call "writer's block," I have been deliberating on trying to write something fiction. I have never really written in this genre before and find it very intimidating. I am not sure if I have the imagination to come up with a whole story on my own. Plus I want it to be good, so that adds a whole other layer to dig through. It just seems like a smart thing to try out. So whenever I am pondering, which is usually while I am in bed, or in the middle of doing something, I think of ideas to write about. Tonight while I was laying in bed, pouting over the fact that I was ditched in a way from a dinner date, and watching tv, an idea randomly popped into my head.

A book. That is my idea. To write about being a book. I mean, it sounds kind of lame. But think about it. Being a book is almost like being a fly on a wall or invisible. It connects with the person while they read the story. We are almost conversing with the book while we read it. We are talking inside of our heads, and reacting to the words the book says. I catch myself laughing out loud while reading all the time as if the book made a joke. And crying too, as if it broke my heart. I think watching a person while they read says a lot about who they are. So I want to write a story through the metaphorical eyes of a book. I am actually really excited about the idea, because it is stirring so many thoughts in my head! It could actually be really good.

Now all I gotta do, is start..... oye

MS

a new start

Today is a new start to the rest of the year for me. Seems weird since it is the middle of July, but school is just a month away, and a huge change is in the process. Tony, the love of my life, officially moved out of my apartment last night. It felt so lonely and weird after we said goodbye. It could have been the meds I am taking for this asthma-related illness I have that was intensifying the reality of the situation, but I was alone again.

We decided to give our relationship to God. That was the way we put it, instead of saying we are simply breaking up. Maybe that is the problem. I don't know what to think about it. I am single, but still committed to one person. Is he? I am not sure. We said we are going to work on our relationship, start over and build it back up. But what if he decides he likes his freedom being single? We may never come back together.

I know I am thinking too hard about this. I am not good adapting to new situations, especially when it means I am alone again. It is not all bad though, this whole independence thing coming back. I have realized that I need to refocus my life. My world revolved around him. But now it has to be all about me. I need to hang out with my friends more. Make more friends too. I need to focus on my Senior year in college, and look forward to a career. I need to refocus my faith. No it did not take a back seat or get weakened by my relationship. I feel like I hindered it from growing even stronger.

So once I get physically healthy again, I am going to work on getting emotionally, mentally, and socially healthy again. I need that superwoman power I once had back. And maybe when that is complete, my love will come back to me.

MS

Shist
I just saw cupid shoot his arrow
its heading in my direction and i dont know what to do
who openly accepts getting speared
with no armor to protect
the only thing that keeps you going
i must runaway
or is that an aimless plight like a runaway's
can't avoid the inevitable
so why delay, dismay my soul
guess ill take it like a man
and watch luv unfold

mj tribute

Even these words I type in the aftermath are a far too calculated attempt to capture the raw emotions that overwhelmed my mind and body when my mother broke the news.
Ironically she alerted in her native tongue, which on most days I struggle to comprehend, but the death of Michael Jackson transcends, impacting the world. My brothers accounts of Jackson sounded mythical, like long legends, but now the world is pop legend less.
Death, the simplest word to read, yet hardest one to grasps had me feeling so……awkward for lack of a better term. It wasn’t as though I didn’t feel like everyone elses facebook status, but even my usual urge to let the ink bleed was tempered by this surreal state of being. I was discovering that the news coverage and not the actual news was making me kind of… angry.
The contrived expressions of remorse felt about as authentic as one of those news anchors trying to Moonwalk. My biggest problem with America is that it’s the constant counter puncher, always reacting to the harshest blows adequately, but never taking precaution to avoid them in the first place. I’m sick of the world’s wrongs being accepted as right. Sick of the insatiable being coerced into my mouth, and being told that’s just how life is.. I’m just mad that it had to take death for people to look past the face and inside the musical soul that Michael possessed. The menacing media needs a facelift as its distorted attempts to save face in the wake of Jackson’s death garner anomalous feelings. It was the media who sought to dehumanize him and portray him as a monster, but now its their incessant attempts to belittle that haunts my ability to remember his life.
The BET and MTV marathons were running away from the way they had previously presented Jackson to a younger generation. It’s as if after only after his passing his named had earned legitimacy, because legitimately, I can’t remember those stations bringing up his name unless it was the part of a joke. They are party responsible for the stigma attached to his name, the void that a younger generation has in understanding the power of Michael Jackson’s music. So their attempt to make me remember the times, only had my mind remembering the punch lines, and the unprecedented scrutiny that MJ had been under for most of my lifetime.
No doubt, Michael had a lot that were far too visible. I had become adept to were the jokes and spectacle that replaced the genius and prodigal image that Michael Jackson once represented. But all it took was a couple songs to make me become sentimental, for my eyes to engage in battle to fight off tears.
The scary thing is that it wasn’t a classic, or one of those songs that made you really remember Mike. My oversensitive self was getting teary eyed listening to “You Rock My World.” The emptiness came back, bullying my usually jovial spirits and the pit of my stomach became filled with guilt. I wanted to partake in the remembrance, wanted to relive his classics, wanted to remember exactly he became a global icon. But why did he have to die to make me understand, what I should’ve never taken for granted. God’s gifts. Now people claim he left to early, but he left on God's time.

nothing

nothing to write
nothing to say
not feelin right
and its the same every day

wake up
work
no play
cuz when we make up
it doesnt work
and we go back to the same old ways
we bicker
fight
ignore the issues
then i get sicker
of sittin tight
and lookin for tissues

Thirsty

"The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated." William James

I was looking online for quotes on appreciation, since my words are lost in the lack there of, and I stumbled on many which were relevant to my present state. However, the one that was so simple and quite abrasive was by William James. At first I wasn't convinced with the concrete statement that it is, without question, the deepest principle. I decided to look up who Mr. James was to see what kind of man would be bold enough to say this with such authority. I was immediately drawn to ponder this idea more thoroughly when I learned that William James is one of the earlier influential psychologists in the field. So he must know what he is talking about!

Even though I have never heard or read of James in my undergraduate psychology major career, I knew he must have been in love to come to this conclusion. He studied Pragmatism, which goes to say he needed some kind of mind fogging effect to understand the need to be appreciated, and then quoting it as the deepest principle of human nature. Love is the ultimate form of appreciation. When you say 'I love you,' it is saying more than just you mean so much to me. It is saying I am grateful you are in my life. It is a intimate way of saying 'thank you.' Thank you for everything you do and everything you are. Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for changing my life.

I may seem out of bounds to a lot of folk, but I am sure James would understand completely. He understands that when you love someone, it is genuine, and unforced. It is not like an Indian Giver who shares their greatest treasure with you for a moment, but steals it back once they miss it. Love can't be returned. It can't be exchanged. When it is true, it is permanent. That is why it is never ending, even when it isn't being given back. See people think that love can run out, like when a well runs out of water. But the love isn't represented by the water; it is the well. The strong walls that wrap around the tunnel that runs deep into the ground. The well holds the favors, the special little things, the major I-got-your-back things, the gifts, the tears and grief that come with a broken relationship... Even when all those things run out, the well still remains, even if it is empty.

So what does this have to do with appreciation? Appreciation is the rain that fills the well. It is the fuel to keep the love strong and abundant. It is when that loved one uses their own water to fill your well. Any small favor, any sweet lil nothing in the ear, a small kiss on the forehead; they are all appreciation, little 'I love you's' to let you know that you matter. And those can't be forced either. So I guess my main dilemma, bringing this all up, is what happens when the rain stops falling? The love is still there, but its dry and arid. How does the person who drinks from the well survive?

MS

Throwin down

My thought process is forever changing like leaves in autumn, so if I seem to contradict myself, please realize it's only natural. I am only human and as I grow up and meet new people, the observer in me manifest itself as I pick up new ways of approaching and analyzing trivial matters. These thoughts I'm currently recording, stem from a conversation I had with a friend/mentor (i have many mentors). I would provide a lot background about him, but you really don't need to know much besides, when identifying himself he throws out two distinct and defining labels. Christian first. Black male second.
So one day we're discussing a lot of different things in his car. And when I say we're discussing, it means that he's talking and I'm doing nothing more than listening and adlibbing on occasion. My ears are perked wide open. They become like lungs because all I want to do is intake every air of wisdom that this dude has to offer...until we start talking about violence.
This is where I have to provide a little background.
My boy grew up in the Bay Area of California. If Dre and Snoop songs haven't alerted you, crime statistics and homicide rates in the state of California will. The city of angels is unfortunately a city where violence subsides as well. Violence was very much a part of the environment he grew up in and he believes encountering dangerous situations helped him mature into a man.
He stated that adversity and politics that the streets provided helped him overcome the unfair politics that society provide. He also threw out several statements about the most misused (R) word in the black community, respect. As I continued to keep quiet and let his words sink in, inside my body was a great sense of rage.
This last r word and my personality are usually incompatible, except when the issue of violence is brought up. Glorification of violence in music and television affect me more than it does most Americans. I hate (and please be aware of the strength of the word) how as a country we accept problems, and then when something traumatic happens finally look to solve them. From an 11 year old boy getting bullied and then committing suicide, to Columbine, to street shoot-outs killing innocent victims. They are all intertwined, because we carefully wrap dark images around the psyche of our young one's. We embrace this animalistic ideal of what toughness is, and for some reason submit ourselves into a thinking that is anything but progressive.
I must acknowledge that I grew up in a neighborhood that wouldnt recognize violence unless it slapped it in the face. My parents taught me to earn the respect of only elders through school and good deeds. I don't think they ever once mentioned trying to attain it from my peers or the streets. But at the same time, as a black male, I was not completely disconnected from the fruition of a deadly black stereotype. Growing up, I had friends who gang banged, but internally I knew they weren't gang bangers. I've seen street fights one day, turn into a bunch of people packing knives the next. I know people who have been stabbed, people who have been shot at. There not that different from me. It's just that their path to maturity and success got derailed. That aggression that could have been channeled in a much more positive way, somehow escaped their body and manifested itself in a dark one.
I was always the one who as my peers rushed to the playground when a fight broke out, stayed back and wondered why do we love to see each other get battered and bruised. I always tried to avoid the temptation of hitting someone because I was scared of the consequences. Not merely in terms of the fight that day, but both the mental and psychological battles that ensues eafter. Explanations to my family of why I let my emotions get the best of me, coupled with the awkwardness of seeing the people I beefed with every day, and most of all, looking in the mirror and knowing that I allowed someone's words to break me, not physically but mentally.
So back to the two dudes in the car. By this time he's explaining how he wants his kids to get into fights and be challenged. And I just let it out. " Fighting is repulsive!"
I didn't care if I sounded bourgeoise or soft. I didn't care if I was disrespecting a culture, or if he was going to get Latin Kings to come to Amherst. Well that would be kind of scary. This was personal. For years I've described myself as a black male, so he may have thought, I accepted violence as second nature. But being black and a male is the very reason why I hate violence altogether.When you see friends adopting a lifestyle in which violence becomes their second language, words can't express how frustrating it is.
It may have been bad diction to use the word repulsive. I probably really should have used a term like pointless or stupid, but this dude is pretty smart so I was trying to show off my vocab and relay a strong message with a word poignant and potent.
Anyways this is how I felt a couple days ago.
I kind of feel wrong today. Its hard to judge. Respect is important, and maybe fighting helps some people. It could be key to developing character and manhood. However, it's not like we look back at history and say " Ghandi and Martin Luther King jr. were soft dudes."'
After all they went hard for the greater good of their people. And so will I some day.
jdote

Saturday Sunday

I honestly feel like I encounter some form of racism everyday. Maybe it's just because the topic is always on the mind. My subconscious makes me conscious of things that most people are unaware of. Or maybe what I am dubiously witnessing is truly not there. I remember one of my mentors growing up, Worcester State professor Sid Buxton, used to break down practically everything on Saturdays to minority high-school students in a program called Upward Bound (or as we liked to call it UB). In doing so Sid would dissect puzzling issues step by step, making sure that we understood matters from the ground up. The meticoulous nature in which he would approach each subject is something that everyone respected. His knowledge was seemingly never ending, and he always had stories to back up what he said, like in his spare time he researched his research.
Nevertheless one day, he touched upon the black expectancy rate, and more specifically health issues that are harming the black community. Amongst the most fatal was heart disease. Sid took a break from his usually thorough analysis to say something so simplistic, that it almost made too much sense.
"The black man in America always has questions in that one question in the back of his head.. Is it because I'm black. We constantly have to worry and protect ourselves, but at the same time we need the help of others. Health care. Job security. etc. The question of causes an overwhelming amount of stress. High blood pressure, heart failure, where do you think that stems from." (im paraphrasing... just slightly).
I bring this up several years later, because I feel the burden of that paralyzing question far too often. No longer do I ask 'is it because I'm black', because I hate asking questions I already know the answer to.
For instance, two Sundays ago, I was in church, of all places. trying to get my Godly worship on, when the 'ISITCUZIMBLACK' question escaped the back of my mind and pounded my frontal lobe. The uneasy feeling that race issues garner took my mind and body hostage, near the end of service, just before I was about to get nourished by feasting on the bread and the whine. Before doing so however, you must engage with your fellow congregation members in an offering of peace with one another. Honestly, this is always one of my favorite times in a church service because it's so genuine and positive. To see people embrace in peace even if it is ritualistic and just a simple handshake is always great. Anyways, on my mission to dap up everyone in sight, there's this old man with an older woman.
Jovially, in the spirit of Christ, I extend my hand to the man first.
The result:
Hand meet air.
Perplexed I looked at him and he looked back with a cheapish smiled. With my spirits a little dampened, I still mustered up the courage try and shake the elderly woman's hand next to him. The result: Hand have some more air.
The sanity that church always brings me couldn't prevent the onslaught of questions that my mind was about to run through. Yes, it was that simple to bring me from being cool calm and Christ like, to being contemplative.
Go ahead say it:
"We're not in the 60's anymore"
"My president is black, my Lambough's blue, brother"
I'm ecstatic about both statements, and I hope the two non hand shakers are too. They could have had perfect excuses. They could have hands plagued by arthritis. They both could have had swine and didnt want it to spread..
Idk, whatever it was, the action made me start thinking of what Sid said. Every Saturday Sid would say something genius. He's pretty much the black Nastradamus. However what he said that one Saturday has stayed with me like a lingering problem
Maybe because its a problem that's almost incorrectable. Rooted in our nation's history, and consequently planted in the mind.
JdotE