Nowadays breakfast at home consists of two batches of pancakes his and mine. For three and a half years we live in the same apartment, and our walls have grown with compromise. For two and a half years I had made pancakes, from scratch, the same recipe every time:

• • 1¼ cups of wheat flour
  • 2½ tablespoons of pure cane sugar
  • 1 cup and a splash or two of almond milk
  • 2 teaspoons of baking powder
  • 1 tablespoon of olive oil or vegetable oil
  • a drizzle of maple syrup or honey
  • vanilla extract (eh, eyeball it)

My pancakes were the best homemade pancakes Frank had ever tasted, perfectly tanned and fluffy. But then came the day I was busy in the kitchen whipping up a batch and from the living room couch, he spied the almond milk descending into the mixing bowl. Yes, my loves, the almond milk sparked a miniature war.

Him: “Why are you putting almond milk in them.”

Me: “I always use almond milk!”

Him: “You know I don’t like almond milk!”

Me: “You can’t even taste it. You’re only saying something because you saw the almond milk…you’ve never even had my pancakes without almond milk.”

Him: “But I don’t like almond milk.”

Me: “Just last week they were the best pancakes ever, that’s what you tell everyone.”

Him: “I still don’t want almond milk in my pancakes. Can you make mine without it.”

I huffed with all of the I am not going to let this go that I could muster in my voice, “So now I have to make two batches of pancakes…”

The Great Compromise

Needless to say, there is no place in love for war—especially not over almond milk pancakes. I also do not believe in making food without love in your heart. That leaves room for the consumption of bad energy. At the end of the day, it is true, Frank does not like almond milk. It is just as true that I use almond milk because I rarely drink dairy milk. When I can I cook kosher I do. It is also true that making two separate batches of pancake batter was not going to kill me nor was it truly going to require an extraneous amount of energy. Not to mention, now I can add cinnamon, pumpkin spice, blueberries and or whatever else Frankie does not like to my batch.

Perfect relationships of any sort come with many compromises —and require equal give and take. One of the biggest compromises is letting go of your ego for the good of each other. Love has to be the only pendulum that swings between your hearts. I could never expect to live a happy life as a happy consort if Frank cannot expect me to meet a simple request of slightly tweaking a recipe in his favor that I Initially crafted in my own favor never considering his cares or preferences. Love is equitable.

Instructions for perfectly tanned pancakes:

1. Heat nonstick pan on medium heat.
2. Fry pancakes in a nonstick pan with no oil or butter, flip when upside bubbling begins to slow.

P.S. Photos Coming Soon: 

I never think to take pictures of my pancakes before we consume them, so I will have to make a batch and update you all with the recipe and a nice visual in the very near future!

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

—Robert Frost

I may never have the necessary quantity of words, nor the gravity of profound articulation or even the ability to allow my hand to dance so fervently over this glass paper to tell you how heavy my heart has been; and yet still, how light I have only just begun to feel—but I can gift to you my journey, my love thus far and henceforth in hopes that you will be able to translate and transcribe that which falls within the spaces between my words and that which tarnishes these pages forever and 80 years.

For more on my own journey back to confidence, self-esteem and self-worth head over to Geiko Skin ♥

How much time and energy and precious breaths are you going exhaust trying to maintain the separation of your array of colliding parts? 

♥

There is a temple to be rebuilt. You are the first and last architect. First, you must tear down all of your walls. You must expose the various cracks in your sinking foundation to the eye of the sun. Allow your leaks to be drained dry by the pull of the moon. Patch all that leaves you feeling crumbly with mortar conjured from the blood of your tears—only then can you begin to rebuild. Only then can light shine through and out of the transparency of your opaque prism.

♥ All is Abundance ♥

It has taken me a lifetime up until a point not long ago to realize that all of me is necessary. Nothing is ill-gifted or misplaced—simply mismanaged more often than not. My heart goes out to the beautiful soul whose heart desires nothing more than to sing but chooses to succumb to everything other than his or her own voice. This beautiful soul also loves writing, to paint and to maybe someday become a dancer and public speaker. Yet, today’s society will insist that you can only do one thing with all the many gifts bestowed upon you.

Well to that beautiful soul I say, off with the reigns which say to you—you can only be what sits well with the narrow minds and blinded eyes of those who seek to drown your light in their self-conjured woes and personal fears. I say, do you my dearest andestagōnwa—my dearest love. You, like they, were birthed from an ocean of abundance. So be it that you choose to utilize and manifest with all of your inheritance, and they seek not to follow in your footstep or simply tread their own.

Like begets like—this is a lesson I have relearned, a universal law that neither you nor I can alter. Take the latter into full consideration. Give from your storehouse of abundance—your inheritance, your gifts, your experiences, talents, and skills. You are bound by law to receive an abundance like nothing you have ever seen, but everything you have ever desired.

♥

Yours in Love Truly Always & Forever

P.S. Spring has sprung. Welcome to the beginning of the New Year! I am dancing to each beat of your measures. Know, I pray you nothing less than all of your cups running over with love and prosperity. ∞♫∞

Ever seen someone in a piece of fashion or styled so peculiarly that in your mind or out loud you are like “I freaking love your life!” Truth be told, I love that moment. Whether I am witnessing someone looking so beautifully bizarre or whether I am the one making it onto someone else’s bizarre list indeed those moments are honors. See, there is something heartwarming about knowing you stand out in a crowd, and not because you spent a fortune on your look, but because your look is on you. Your style is specifically designed, cultivated and hand-picked by your divus eye. You know, and we can feel that you did not choose pieces because of their big-ticket price tags, because they are trending, or because they flaunt a high-end designers name or logo. We know, you choose each increment of your look because it suits you, and your heart desires it. You vibe with your pieces—and they all resonate deep within and far beyond your spirit.

“Nothing is incidental.”
—Pocan Ioan Valentin

I could tell you that there is something justly magical about your hair — but could your soul trust me? 

Only a week, give a few days or so before I took the official leap into toward locking my hair I met Frank. Yes, the infamous tongue ring meeting — the beginning of everything we can never truly ever forget. So, it goes without saying that my locs are as young as our relationship in this lifetime and as ancient as our love.        Yet, the deeper roots of our affections began a few weeks before your conception when I got the urge to start two more locs. From these two came you.