November is for Space Making

My response to @brownkids speaking on cleaning closets and making space.

I have stuff for the person I was, taking up space from the things that speak to who I am now. 

I follow this Instagram account @brownkids, This young woman Roe chronicles the life lessons of her and her husband E. Yesterday she posted about cleaning out her closet. And when I tell you we were on the same wavelength? Because I was definitely doing that same thing with my Saturday. And I commented on it. Evidently my comment touched a person or two and Roe pointed out that November can absolutely be a month of space making.  (by the way... go follow them. Dope account.)

So I thought I'd spend November talking about that. Making space. Letting go of who I've been. Opening up to who I am.

Where do I start? I guess I can start with the papers I've recently thrown out.

Old scripts. Classroom Activities. Meeting notes. Fliers and notes for unsuccessful entrepreneurial attempts. They all whispered my old indentities to me. They called out. "Don't leave us. How will people know what you are about? How will You know? You can't start over. You're too old. You need us. You owe us."

No I don't.

Here I was, holding on to papers, folders, binders, for a life that hasn't felt like mine in almost a year. Clinging to them like a security blanket "just in case." I was clinging to them in fear, to be honest. I knew the truth though. There wouldn't be a just in case. Even just holding them in my hands they felt heavy and tiresome. They weren't just a security blanket against the unknown. They were a silent reprimand of my past plans gone astray; a reminder of the woman I didn't find any success in being. But I don't have to hold on to that story.  I'm not Her anymore.

There is a freer, lighter, newer, undiscovered Me waiting for space to come out. I want to be good to Her. She doesn't deserve the shackles of old identities. She is indebted to no label.

I released the papers.

I don't have anything new to put in their place either. I'm not in a rush to fill my shelves with more stuff. Right now I'm just contemplating the sweetness of the emptied space.

Have you ever taken a deep breath in a completely empty room and felt calm and refreshed? Yeah... It's like that. The emptiness is full of potential and the promise of absolutely anything.
Its been a long time since I've felt optimism in this unlabeled stillness.

In the emptiness we can become anything. 

Find Your Element

The Dreamy Lobster (1947) by Gabor Peterdi

If you follow the zodiac, I am an "earth sign." Take from it what you will. However, in everyday life, I have always been drawn to one thing: water.

I remember the summer I lost my younger brother. It was 2014. The sun was shining, and my heart was ripping apart. (Who knew I would mimic this experience two years later with my younger sister.)

For weeks I couldn't truly breathe, couldn't relax, couldn't find any real calm. I told my grandmother (Granny) that all I wanted was a pool to myself. I wanted to be surrounded by water: still, cool, weightless. For some, the pool is a place to socialize. To exercise. To cool off. And it can be all those things. But submerging myself in water has always been about the water itself. The wetness of it, the sound of splashing and underwater swooshing. I love feeling it part alongside my body as I swam. The solitude of an empty pool can literally move me to tears at time. And that healing power was exactly what I needed.

Granny, gem that she is, surprised me by renting a hotel room one night. She informed me that there was a small pool. Got to love grandmothers. I waited until late to go down, and sure enough it was empty. I swam and floated and sang gospel songs and cried for my brother. I needed it.

I have always loved water this way. As a young girl, I liked to swim to the bottom of pools and stay under for as long as I could. Even at home, I'd dunk my head underwater in the bathtub and close my eyes.

Living in a major city, full of car exhaust and sirens and big ugly buildings (and some old beautiful ones) I think it's easy to forget how much we need nature. It might be easy for you to write this type of post off as "New-Agey" or "granola nonsense." But I bet as a kid, there was an element you loved too.

As a mainstream society, we self-medicate something serious. Drugs. Therapy. Drinks. Aggressive sports. Yoga. Sex. Social Media. Television. Food. Religion. Retail. Anything to escape and find relief.

Quite frankly, not all those things are bad. But some of them are very costly. Financially, emotionally, and physically. Some of them take something from you in exchange for the escape.

I find that nature doesn't. And I challenge you to rediscover it. Find something natural that stops time for you, that gives you permission to release your burdens and connect with your forgotten self, even if for a moment. And when you find it, embrace it.

Imagination Creeps You Out.

Today I fell in love with a song. It's an old song from my childhood called "Pure Imagination." Gene Wilder sings it in his role as Willy Wonka.  It's at the point where the children, touring the Wonka Factory, encounter the completely edible garden known as "The Chocolate Room."  My favorite versions of the song are at the bottom of this post.



Now, I have always loved Willy Wonka. It's right up there with Peter Pan, and Narnia. Whole worlds right under our noses. Places where anything can and will happen, tucked ever so delicately away in seemingly everyday ordinary places. But today I listened to an instrumental version of this song, and it simply touched me. Many people call the movie an "acid trip." And I'd be hard-pressed to disagree, although my acid experience is nil. Mr. Wonka pushed his guests to the point of breakdowns, by simply exposing them to his unadulterated mind, his unfettered imagination. He gave them what they wanted, and they decided they didn't want it anymore. That's the real catch. Pure Imagination requires a level of belief that most human beings simply don't operate from. It's deeper than Creativity. Creativity helps us look at things that already exist in a different way; reimagine them, reshape them, improve them, fix them. Imagination is the god that Creativity bows down to. Pure Imagination creates from nothing. It fills empty rooms with strange and marvelous universes. It fashions whole beings out of inanimate objects. It is a life force. Children know this. They are masters at imagination, because when you are young, you just don't care enough about other people's views of you. And you don't know enough about what society thinks is right or wrong. Imagination is everything for children. But for the simple, fettered individual, it creeps them the hell out.

 Why the creep factor? Well, there are lot's of reasons. Real unfettered Imagination, once shared, almost always involves exposing people to change, and to the unknown. The unrealized. The unactualized. Societally, we have been notoriously uncomfortable with that- with facing things we know nothing about. We are obsessed with categorizing, explaining, naming, controlling, and identifying. It is the self-same nature that causes us to glorify "structured" and "safe" religion, but lock people up for seeing "angels." Especially when we ourselves cannot see them. Also, pure imagination is neither good nor bad. Which means it doesn't stop at cute and cuddly. To truly live in imagination means including the exploration of the dark, the dangerous, the uncomfortable. It's pulling back the curtain that we hide so comfortably behind. It's crawling under the bed with the monsters. It's asking to see Dracula's fangs. It's finding solace in the straightjacket. It's losing control.

 We are not a society that truly thrives on losing control. I believe in my heart that this lack of belief is to our detriment. It's why "artists" are always stereotyped as drug abusers. I cannot tell you how many people assume I smoke weed, or take X, and look a little miffed when I speak so ill of either. The career of the artist requires imagination, and in large quantities. If we simply fostered a culture that embraced losing control, and learned how to use that as a power, instead of viewing it as a weakness, perhaps so many of my human brethren wouldn't need drugs to escape. They could escape into their own mind. But even this escape creeps people out.

 I love fairies. Angels. Mythology. Mermaids. Unicorns. Never Never Lands and Portals to "Other" Places (like Wardrobes and Rabbit Holes).  I also like Vampires. Demons. Werewolves, Witches, and Halloween. Halloween is in fact my favorite holiday, and my religiously conservative friends simply don't understand. One of my favorite shows involves a species of creatures living amongst humans in secret. I remember my mom once saying "don't watch that stuff. It gets into your spirit." I laughed, thinking to myself that is exactly how I feel watching the evening news. Thing is, it's all the same to me. It's all fanciful and imaginative. It doesn't GET into my spirit. It COMES from my spirit. But the masses don't feel comfortable with that. How can something so seemingly "creepy" and "dark" come from something good? So I must be bad, or dark. Well not me exactly. Im sure my mom doesn't think I am creepy. Not totally. ;-)

 It's difficult to walk around with whole universes inside of you, itching to get out. Every time I open my mouth, I must first assess if the audience I'm speaking to can handle the depth of unknown I am prepared to present. This is because I am not yet brave enough to simply cast away all concern for others. I salute those who can and do express themselves for the sake of freedom, but many of them still had to start out with some limitation and "appropriation", in order to catch the attention of the masses. Being this way is a gift and a curse. It's a gift because my mind is the most colorful getaway I can imagine. It's a gift for reasons I can never really explain to you. It's a curse because I live in society. People want my imagination cutely packaged for their enjoyment. They don't want me to "go too far." Or else it becomes perversion, obsession, or something psycho-socially errant. But the irony is that pure imagination is far from perversion. It is a powerful force.

This is my favorite stanza in the song. It suggests that the world itself is a thing of paradise and beauty. The stuff of dreams; that in order to truly capture the magic of imagination, all we must bring to the table is our own mind, and truly experience the wonders of the world. It's back to that "pull back the curtain" idea. It suggests that the magic we seek in the world is already here, and all we must do is be open to the possibility. The possibility of what?        Well... Of everything.

Imagination will always be a legend amongst men. Da Vinci. Disney. The earliest priests or "founders" of every religion. Einstein. Picasso. Imagination will make you an outcast. It will make you unpopular. But it just might make you famous. And eventually revered. Not so much for the imagination itself, but for what you are able to do with it that people appreciate. To all my Imaginarians... Fear not. You are not alone. The masses may never embrace your talent. except as it pleases and benefits them. But never doubt that it is indeed a talent. It is the stuff of THEE Creator; the Capital Letter Creator. Never reject your imagination. Let it fill you with life. It is freedom! It is mania! Keep thinking. Keep imagining. Keep Creating.

 Creep 'Em Out.

 ~L

  “I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world."  ~Albert Einstein

“Everything you can imagine is real.”  ~Pablo Picasso

“Fairy tales had been her first experience of the magical universe, and more than once she had wondered why people ended up distancing themselves from that world, knowing the immense joy that childhood had brought to their lives.” ~Paulo Coelho

“Children see magic because they look for it.” ~Christopher Moore (Author)

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself." ~William Blake

These two versions of "Pure Imagination" are my favorite modern versions.

Fiona Apple for Chipotle

Maroon 5

                  

Extrovert society. Introvert personality.

I am an introvert.

 SURPRISE!!

 Bet you never would have guessed. And i'm sure that you are conjuring up images in your mind of an insecure, painfully quiet door-mat. Well, I'm none of that. I am pretty quiet sometimes, but its more out of observance and reflection than any inability to voice my opinion.

Here's the thing... Introverts get a pretty bad rap in this society. And it's not even because there aren't alot of us. It's because extroverts are the ones screaming to the Heavens about how not 'extroverted' we are.
Ok, maybe screaming to the Heavens is a bit dramatic, but you get the picture. For those of you who ARE extroverts, and don't understand your introvert friends, I thought I would shed a little light on the situation for you.

So.. it goes like this.  In mainstream society, an extrovert is seen as a party person who loves being in the center of attention, is loud, and popular, while an introvert is seen as a mousy quiet, person who is shy and scary. The issue with these depictions is that they are rather lacking in their definition. Introversion and Extroversion are not always about how you socialize.  True, they can affect it, but not always. Nor are you always one or the other. They're personality types. People fluctuate all the time. So let's break it down.


This is what my  good friend Merriam.. Merriam Webster, has to say about it.
Introversion:
1: the act of directing one's attention toward or getting gratification from one's own interests, thoughts, and feelings
2: the state or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life


Extroversion:
: the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self

That makes it all very clear to me, how about you. No? Ok, I will continue.

Introverts are very into their own personal interests. They tend to seek advice within themselves before consulting others. They often enjoy singular activities, like painting, fishing, or reading. These people like to reflect. A lot. This inner consultation revitalizes them. They may feel very comfortable alone. This doesn't make them shy . Rather, engaging large groups can often be draining for them in terms of energy. In fact many introverts love groups; small intimate ones, as opposed to large public ones. Introverts often like to observe activities or people before engaging. For this reason, they are not usually considered 'spontaneous' although this too is untrue.

So, for some of my extrovert friends, I know this sounds like "blah, blah blah, cooped up in the house, shy, socially awkward, blah, blah, blah." But again you would be wrong. Introverts are not necessarily shy. Shy people choose not to engage in large public groups due to fear. Introverts are people who actually enjoy quieter, more intimate activities. They are people who tend to look inward. Unlike our extroverted friends, we are not bored by ourselves. Plain and simple.

Now, we live in a society, here in the US, that pretty much glorifies extrovert personalities. Celebs. Politicians. Bad boys and bad girls. And that leaves us with this idea that introverts are not as exciting, or interesting... or that they MUST be miserable being an introvert. But its not true. Nor are all those groups I mentioned necessarily all extrovert.

Take for example, dear old Beyonce. On stage, she is the poster child for extroversion. Attention seeking. In the middle of a crowd. Drawing energy from her fans. But off stage, Bey kept a tight lip about her personal life for a long time. Her social time was usually spent with intimate groups, family, etc. That's introverted behavior. It's a mild example, but it is an example nonetheless, of how a person can be different at different times.

So here I am. The Introvert. How does one understand me? Well...

• Many of us don't like small talk. It's not personal. It's how our brains work. Meaningful conversations, however, will be rather welcome. 
• If you are the spouse of an introvert, don't get offended if they need 'alone time.' It may not be anything you did. Introverts just need personal time to recharge our batteries, and that trait doesn't end at the altar.
• Extroverts tend to process their thoughts outwardly. Where as introverts often process their thoughts, well, inwardly. And in most cases, the mind alone works a lot faster than mind+mouth. So if we give you an answer quickly, or didn't share our thoughts with you, don't assume we didn't put any thought into the matter.
• If every offer to spend time involves conversing with, or entertaining large groups of people, expect a lot of  "no's". If there's ever a 'yes', we really, really, really love you.  ;-)
• Don't invite people over without checking with us first. We know you think everyone is welcome. But its not true. We are very particular about who we like to be around.

And finally, no we do not have a choice in the matter. Our introversion is innate, just like your extroversion. I don't apologize for being this way. It's not a bad thing. Being an introvert is not about being bored, shy, lonely, boring, linear, or a stick in the mud. It's about being happy by oneself. So BACK OFF! Lol.

Accept us. And get to know us. We're not going anywhere.

My Blackness is not up for debate... Or is it?

Black. African-American. Negro. Colored

These are all 'politically correct' terms that have chased my brown ancestors around for decades. But are they correct? Or just political?

Last year my friend asked me if  I considered myself black. He got the longest reply in a text message ever! This is what I replied:

 "My first mind says "black" but really it depends on the context. My skin is pale brown. And sometimes, when arguing the blatant racism of the majorative power, it's applicable to all brown people. And I don't know if "black" really defines my African ancestry because I believe in the Supremacy of Mother Africa which suggests that ALL peoples originate from her. Doesn't make me want to call a 'white' person 'black.' My blackness, rather, is a testament to my membership in an ethnic subculture within America, comprised of different Nationalities- West Indian, Caribbean, African, American, and who knows what else, who face a certain stigma because of our shared West African ancestry within the last 600 years."

It was probably more reply than he was looking for, but such is the result when you ask me a question. The other day, I saw a post on Instagram, about interracial dating. It was posted by Sancopha League, a group of young men who seem to be very much into promoting positive images of that ethnic subgroup I mentioned earlier called "black" people. The post got me thinking about the term "interracial dating"; another "political term" of questionable correctness.

Finally, on the same day as the Sancopha League post, I read this interesting article on the BGLH website. It's about this stereotype that only people of 'mixed heritage' can grow long hair. But then again.. how do you define mixed heritage?

Here's my issue. A good chunk of my ancestry is not immediately African. I'm not unique in this matter. Most  of us who are descended from the Africans who were enslaved here centuries ago, have a good chunk of non-African ancestry. When I say non-African, I am referring to the past 500 or so years. Before that, things get even dicier in terms of genetic heritage. 

Now there's this guy named Henry Louis Gates... you may have heard of him. Well-known Harvard professor. Author. Very curious guy. Has a pretty neat PBS show... He wrote this article in The Root that throws out some interesting numbers. According to Gates' research many of us descended from enslaved Africans have an average of 20-30+% European ancestry, and maybe 2-5% Native American ancestry (yet another questionably correct politcal term.) Some of us have maybe 80-60+% Sub-Saharan African ancestry. Hmm.... 

And let's not get started on 'white' people with African ancestry. 

So this leaves me with a question. How do I define my Blackness? How do I define someone else's Blackness? Is it ever fair to call oneself 100% Black? What does that even mean? If I said I was mixed, would I be incorrect? How so, when my blue-eyed father is partially descended from some Germanic Jews on his mother's side, and my mother is descended from West Virginian rural whites on her father's side? Both sides only require a few generation steps back to get there. And that's only what I know of.

So, do my kinky hair, thick lips, and never-ever-pointy nose denote my blackness? Because if that's the case , I know a few Africans who aren't black... *sarcasm.*

Why are we so divided on this? Half of the people who would be called Black Americans are running around trying to find ANY proof that their ancestry contains something 'exotic', something other than African, as if their Africanity is not enough to be proud of. The other half are running around acting as if any person who acknowledges the diversity in their heritage is ashamed of their African heritage, specifically. It all seems like a load of bullsnot. And I'm out of Kleenex.

 From a psychological point of view, it would suggest, on both sides, an extreme reaction to reconciling with their past. The ugly and brutal stain of slavery, and the subsequent raping of slaves that occurred has left these descendants with a real need to reclaim a sense of pride. For some, perhaps it involves being able to tear away from the haunting past and current stigmas, attaching themselves to something new. For others it may be about reclaiming the very wholeness that rape often depletes it's victims of. I can only guess either way.

As for me, here I am. Leslie Colleen. Zuri Love.  The product of Africa, Eastern Europe, North America, and who knows what else, but majoratively Africa. I call myself Black, because to me, it represents my membership in a very special club of people who have had to overcome a million and one obstacles in these United States of America. My blackness is not about "team lightskin" or even "teamnappy". It's further than the shade of my skin, or the flare of my nostrils. It's not defined by the thickness of my hair, my hips, or my lips. And It does not force itself on other people. I don't expect others to wear their Blackness as I do mine. I don't think dating a 'white' person lessens one's Blackness. Unless they want it to. My Blackness is about those people who fought whips, pistols, nooses, handcuffs, water hoses, police dogs, billyclubs, and midnight cruisers with white hoods. They had to fight because people hated them for the very things that mattered least- their appearance.  I claim my Blackness for it's strength, and it's endurance. My Blackness is about my duty to honor that struggle. And nothing further. 

My Africanity, on the other hand..... that's a post for another day. ;-)

There's really no right or wrong on this topic. But this is definitely how I feel. Hope I got you asking a few questions of yourself.

Peace loves.

Who reflects you?

Hey yall!!!

I got a request before I get down to the blogging. 

Scroll on down to the comment box, and answer this question: Which of your friends remind you most of you and why? 

It's Ok if you have more than one amigo that makes you feel like you. I'm open to that. If you want to, you can put their twitter username, I'll tag them for you, because I'm nice like that.

Back to the blogging now. . .

Loren & Lauren. 

I've got quite a laundry list of friends, male and female. The list is comprised of several ages, ethnicities, religions, and other cultural identities. And within those people, I see the best of myself. My friends either remind me of who I am, or reveal to me more of who I want to be. 

But none of them remind me of me so much as Loren and Lauren. And not just because they are both adorable, curvy, yellow-brown girls with natural hair. Although that never hurts either. And neither of them is exactly orange. Loren is more like... Kelly Green. And Lauren? Lauren is like... Pink, but a pastel pink. The kind of pink you'd find in a floral pattern of fabric.

So here's a mini-profile on two of my fantastic friends and what they inspire in me.

My L's.

Loren Davis-Stroud

Age: late twenties *wink*
Location: St. Louis, Missouri
Occupation: Music Artist

I met Loren during freshman week of college. She was this bouncy, bubbly, sassy chick from Chicago. She was the third official girl I met. I don't know what her immediate impression of me was, but I thought she was very urban chic. Not "Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur" chic. More like "Rasta scarf and Converse with bodacious earrings" chic. I didn't know her to love her, but I soon would. As a matter of fact, she was one of the last people I saw, leaving college, both at the end of freshman year, and at graduation.

From freshman year to now, Loren and I have become extremely close, fallen out, argued, and borrowed clothing and jewelry like...well... like sisters. We've been adopted into each other's homes and families, calling each other's mothers like our own. We've cried, although rarely together. Usually, me to her, or her to me, but somehow one of us is usually ready when the other needs to let loose a tear. We even got tattoos together! Loren is the only person I can say I share an identical tattoo with. And not to be 'cutesy' either. I designed a tatt, with her help, and we both fell in love with it at the same time. It's like that sometimes.

When I look at Loren, when I'm around her, I feel my artistic self. I feel like making earrings, and penning a poem or ten. She reflects the wild bird in my spirit, which is peculiar, because both she and I can be shy about the weeeeeirdest things. But when we are together, I think we find power in each other to overcome those shy moments. She is my affectionate self, melting me to a warm place whenever she lays her head on my shoulder (I'm taller) and proclaims so very softly "I love you sister." With my sister Loren, the tough-strong person is not necessary, although it is still understood.  I see in her, some of my insecurities, and therefore, a confidant to share them. Loren is independent and a bit stubborn, which I need more of for myself. I look up to her in that way. We share a love for most things Neo-Soul, and all fashions plus-size. And Loren is the cold-truth I give to others. She is not afraid to clock me on the head with her opinion of my 'moments.' Nor am I with her, but this is about her. Loren is a part of me, that wants to experience life indulgently. She is the part of me that I hope to have the strength to fully uncage one day. Right now, I'm still learning to pick the lock.

Here's her facebook page, by the way.

Lauren 'Tele' Kendall
Age: 24
Location: just barely Atlanta, Georgia.
Occupation: Student, and 80 other different things.

When I first think of Lauren, I think of her finite cuteness. Lauren is by far the most adorable person I know. "Pretty" is a natural, applicable description of her. Inside and out, she is a bundle of warmth. Lauren is my Little L. I met her in college as well, and became her "big sister," a colloquialism common to our collegiate culture (alliteration!!) simply referring to someone older than you who is willing to look out for you if you need them to. Now, in our mid twenties, our relationship is less big/little and more 'sister.' She is by far one of the coolest people I know.

 In a bio I wrote for her, I described her as the love child of Tinkerbell, Coltrane, Wonderwoman, and the Godfather. Lauren is the health nut I wish I was. In fact, she is often my inspiration for how to go about being healthier. She battles her problems with cool rationale, often giving me unbiased advice based deeply in logic. She isn't trendy, but always in style, having a sort of a Jackie Kennedy meets Afrocentric hipster chic fashion sense. I like to think of her as Pearls and Cowrie Shells. She is the other side of my fashion sense, and musical preferences. Real  hip-hop and jazz are her specialties. Her work with the SALT newspaper and SALT radio station reflect this gritty sophistication, covered in lace. She is wonderful.

In Lauren, I see my awkwardness, brought on by being a little too advanced. She's a cut-to-the-point lady with a warm smile. This kind of attitude does not appreciate meaningless small talk, and prefers to face problems head on. With Lauren, I am always ready to fully own my mess, not hiding behind excuses or other people's faults. With her, every problem has solutions.

Lauren is also a creative, artsy girl. But with her, it's not so much flavorful poetry and one-of-a-kind jewelry. It's beautiful decorating, and well-chosen musical selections. From the moment Lauren started living on her own, I would experience, while visiting her, that she had a natural mastery of creating Zen environments. Minimalism, sprinkled with delightful art pieces she made, was evident throughout her house. And this is really a reflection of her effect on people. Around Lauren, I feel tranquility. Anything could happen, or nothing could happen, and I will enjoy it either way. She draws people to her with this unbounded magnetism, and sets everyone at ease. This is a trait I wish to aspire to. Soon enough.

Check out Lauren's SALT newpaper profile.


These two L's are the best of who I am, or who I would like to become. Not only do I simply love them, I am literally honored to know them, and excited for who they inspire me to be. One or both of them is probably going to be massively famous, and I'll be glad to have witnessed the process. Check these BAD ladies out. Bet you find yourself impressed. It's like Kanye says. "Ain't nobody messin' wit my CLIQUE"