seclheandera asked: we create and the universe helps us do that. I have been having a rough time spiritually. But as always some things, in this case finding your blog again, made me come back to the core. The way you write is as if I was telling the story through you. It's bhakti, love. Thank you for sharing your words lovely. light ~
Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage,...– Osho Osho & I are totally on the same page about love. (via caitsmeissner)
i was just so, so sleepy, on that edge of consciousness right before slipping away into the seas of the finite ever after and my beloved, that man, he goes and tells me things that move me to complete wakefulness and make me want to get on my knees for the first time in a long time and pray prayers of gratitude whatever Source it is for the All that be. love has gifted me a stronger voice to speak...
The planet does not need more successful people. The planet desperately needs...– Dalai Lama (via caitsmeissner)
1. What are the specific perspectives and experiences I bring to my work? What identities do I claim and hold that could help connect populations, support another human in their own self discovery or provide comfort? 2. Am I sharing freely? Am I allowing an audience to find my work? If not, how can I develop the courage to share, knowing it may help someone survive? 3. Do I feel inclined to...
What Do My Poems Matter, Anyway? Confronting Art's...
caitsmeissner: This January, when my student died of a gun shot to the stomach, writing a poem didn’t seem like an appropriate response. I was stunned, and regardless of the ethics of penning a poem, I was left without the language to sooth this experience through a beautiful-twist of words. In fact, it felt even offensive to transfer this into a poem that I could potentially get accolades...
My plates are horribly flawed. But of course, it’s the flaws I like. So you...– Sally Mann on Art21. (via tobia)
a woman in the process of falling/growing/rising in love with herself.
love letters from women i love about that between myself and my beloved and am reminded that we should never settle for a love we have to dim our light for. for those who beg us to swim in their shadows because that is hardly love at all. i struggle even, to call that attraction. more like attachment. there are people who will praise you out loud and pray for your demise in the quiet. some have...
a spirit in whom i feel absolute trust, union, bonding. the first time i do not feel compelled to leave out, to add on, to tuck away in fear of being looked down upon/judged/misunderstood/having intentions misconstrued. peace in the absolute. honesty is a necessary kind of love. i do not know how i ever went without it.
i have loved all sorts of beings. the purest are those who do not make you feel as if you need to be anything other than exactly what you are.
sometimes you’ve got to remind yourself that everybody ain’t gon’ feel you, or want/need your energy, or care what fuels your passion, who you love and how you love them, or what wakes you up on the daily, or how you take your tea. and that’s okay. that’s aight. it’s still all good. keep on for you & the beings that do.
~ i have known few things purer than the feeling that the shedding of our own skins does everything to diminish the notion that there are any gaps existing between the confines of our beings…that our being is confined to this person, to this single body like the birds don’t wake singing the songs of interconnectivity and the day we reunite(d) and being in one another all along. like...
i. remembering the nights spent whispering desires into moonlight. adding to the list of things to tell my children: speak to the moon, baby. she be listenin’. ii. the sun rose the next day. iii. that dream with the honey-skinned man with coils for crown and something like ocean/forest/soil for eyes. iv. my spirit recognized you before i did. v. i speak/swallow your name all...
+ there is infinitely less to be said when one immerses herself in the immediacy of the present moment. + i am still dreaming. + my spirit animal. a bear that was bothering me and after i had gotten up and entered a space of my own, it left me for another woman. “it’s outside with some girl,” my mother yelled from the bottom of the steps. beloved proposed that it’s a...
a mother's love.
a little while ago i got off the phone with my mother after a near-three hour conversation about love, failed relationships, identity, art, purple hair, Basquiat, blue lipstick, college, happiness, and everything else that lives in between and was reminded of how utterly beautiful she is. how much i love and respect and adore and admire her. she and i do what mothers and their children are...
making peace with the entirety of my being is one of the most difficult challenges i’ve ever had to face. all of the pushing and pulling and cutting and stitching and tucking away is just too much sometimes when we are so big, sometimes feel so little. the more i make note of all of the things and beings and experiences i have to be thankful for, i am reminded that gratitude, in itself,...
Speech and Image
An African Tradition of the Surreal  Speech seems to us the main instrument of thought, emotion and action. There is no thought or emotion without a verbal image, no free action without first a project in thought. This is even more true among peoples who disdained the written word, the spoken word is the expression par excellence of the life-force, of the being in its fullness. God created...
the art of the game.
“All important art is self-taught and the most significant artist is the one who feels he/she has nothing to lose and everything to gain.” — Amiri Baraka i was sitting in the library after class reading Who Shot Ya? a book of photographs shot by Ernie Paniccioli capturing the past three decades of the Hip-Hop culture when i came across this quote. immediately, i began thinking...
it is the experiences that rise out of a preconceived ignorance, a passing fancy, a passion, an interest, a seemingly ‘random’ occurrence that end up being the most significant. it isn’t until we probe, until we question, that the mystery begins to unravel—directing us into darker depths, pulling us into more profound questions, coercing us into deeper insights. those are...
A writer or any artist can’t expect to be embraced by the people. I’ve done records where it seemed like no one listened to them. You write poetry books that maybe 50 people read. And you just keep doing your work because you have to, because it’s your calling. But it’s beautiful to be embraced by the people. Some people have said to me, “Well, don’t you think that kind of success spoils one...
“Each shot (photograph, point, poem, sentence) my memory, truncation, embrace, deferral, a poetics, is not writing out of or into, but through the center of whatever I mark to be the current state of what is the deliberate gesture in: It is impossible to say who I am:” — Ronaldo V. Wilson ~ [my] identity feels like a labyrinth do not want to be “too much” or...
class has anything to say about everything until the topics of “race” and “blackness” enter the dialogue. —silence—
the way soul permeates the distances our bodies can’t reach. [it was feel at first vibe.] making love to our shared immortality. i spend 3ams wondering how many lifetimes it’s been… collapsing space constructs defeating time through the portal of an intimacy that transcends this physical realm. this woman said that when twin flames make love, the universe’s...
one who recognizes your complexity— appreciates it. does not dismiss you as— confusing, fickle, unsteady— *too much* like a woman’s psyche / heart / entire fucking being can be reduced to simple multisyllabic words. he accepts your— showers, sun/storm, eruption, tornado, monsoon. sakura. cherry blossom. orchid. water lily. willow tree. power....
i tried not to kill her this time but she is so beautiful while she is dying.