I am going to meet Oprah. No, I am going to know Oprah, and she will know me. She will know my writing and my work and she will introduce me to new books and perspectives. She will send me teas that I will never drink and I will give her my gratitude for seeing me.
I am going to meet Sean Carter. No, I am going to know Sean Carter, and he will know me. He will challenge my views and teach me how to stay rooted but keep my head to the sky. He will pull at my heart telling me stories of being the dichotomous: successful black man.
I have all these dreams, I’ll call them premonitions…and I ask myself, “is what I’m doing right now going to get me there?” I want to be a voice of my community. I want to be a spiritual leader. I want to inspire others to live lives governed by love…perfect love that frees not binds. I want to be sunshine.
I want to be I will be in a position to take care of my family. I want my sisters and later my own children to see the world and learn in a way only experience can teach. I want my mother to know she did well.
Nothing I write feels right lately. It feels too redundant. Too trite. To much like more of the same and not enough Me.
I was talking to LT about being our most creative selves and she said she feels her most creative when she’s high, emotionally. I argued that it was because in her emotional state she was her most vulnerable. And it is really that vulnerability that brings creativity. So…if I consider what it is I’m withholding…
My life has become The Women. I literally have no male friends right now and its the first time since I was 6 years old that a guy hasn’t been readily available for friendly banter. Oddly enough, the one I miss most is the one who I likely always will.
Its not everyday. But when I pay attention to the smallest things I see him everywhere. And if I’m thinking about the vulnerability in that it makes me cry to think that love is this big evasive thing off limits to me. Admittedly I’ve put conditions on it….telling myself I had to be _______ enough to have love. But I know that’s not true. Don’t I?