Take my kindness for kindness. Know—my good side is my best side. #dejure

My mother, my father—don’t put shit pass me. My brother, my sister they bouty bouty—riding if I’m rolling.

My King, he would say I’m cutthroat-sweet, call me gingersnap.

My closest amigos know I speak my heart no feelings saved.

Newcomers welcome—my doors are always open, but new energy is checked like baggage at my gate.

Right bout now that’s all that matters. So you get in where you fit in—standing room only, 

                                                                                                        all seats reserved, no rooms left vacant. 

♥

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We  try to force change upon ourselves and others—but change is natural—and nothing natural can be forced. 

I spent a little over a year, maybe even two, fighting myself—or something of the sort. I was in a full-on battle. Literally, I had waged an almost unforgiving, horrendously relentless war against the woman I knew I was becoming—the woman I knew deep-down all of me desired to be. In my spirit rose a resentment toward this woman I had yet to formally meet. Forcibly I was on a mission to postpone her arrival. Some days it felt as if I wanted nothing more than to halt her coming all together. Ironically, I felt that I knew nothing of her. Sadly, as much as I innately desired to see her in all of her highly anticipated grandeur I could not stand feeling her emerging. I loathed watching her from half-shut eyes displacing the me I had grown to find so many comforts within. 

Eventually, I realized there was not much I could do to make myself feel happy and fulfilled until I just allowed myself to simply be—to commit, to leap, to freefall, to find a way to catch myself in mid-air—like a cat—and to land on my feet after all of my shifting, my changing. For my sanity’s sake, I had to make way for her arrival. I had to abandon my complacency.

Somewhere between power trip and power failure I exists—in a cold dark place full of warmth—or heat—I dance like water at my best—like ice at my depths. I still birth.

—9:16 post meridiem, November 25th 2018

♥

Here, I imagine—You feel more at home in my body than I do.

I find solace in watching myself trying to be a good mother—a perfect mother—I found honor in knowing that she still only exists adorned in glittering imperfections. I see her tries—all of her attempts that lead to half actions and whole actions have thus far transmuted into You—ten toes, ten fingers—arm, leg, leg, arm, head.

—10:19 ante meridiem, Masha’Allah, November 26th 2018

♥

I have learned to feed you—and still I am not yet half the mother I am to be—for I have only just begun too nourish your cries for my attention—your restless waves for my acknowledgment—your tossing and turning—your tides attempting to pull from my sea shores a distant touch.

—10:53 ante meridiem, Learning to Love Again

I did not fear the spirits—restless souls, entities and hellhounds—that roamed about our childhood home in my youth, or those that followed me into love. Yet, I feared the makings of my own restless spirit, my demons, my tribe’s maternal traumas, and many attachments—spiritual ones, mental ones, and physical ones. Those fears lead me to fear my greatest joy, one I had only spent countless moons and seasons wishing, praying and meditating upon—a chance at motherhood, a chance at carrying love in my womb and baring a child to crown—a chance many said I could and would never have. I feared my consort having to settle for a life with only me—as if that was not the first and only life he had set out to live when we first sat by those October train tracks sipping on Jamaican Me Happy. I had to give up my fears, my worries, my self-doubts, my addictions—all of my inhibitions. We had to throw away our futile man-made cares, let our freedom hang out, and look back to our stars, our planets, our moons, and our many aspects—those that had first charted our way—and fall back into us.

—♥Su Hena

If my life is my message…what kind of message am I sending?

—Tarot Teachings

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♥

I do love myself—enough to fear nothing. I release all judgments of myself and all others. Thus, I will and I shall live, give, and I shall build. My practice is my adventure—my life, this journey, is my practice. And although I seek the bounty and the beauty that is the rose, I shall not fear its thorns. I will regard each prick as a lesson to be learned—each scar, a badge of honor earned.

With all of my love.

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