Watching Sadness.....

Written on 8/21/09

I am watching the emotion of sadness. It is living somewhere around my heart center. Not radiating a huge area, spreading down to my appendages and through my toes but it is pulsing, faintly like the lifeline of someone just coming back from the dead. Its’ color is gray or dark purple, maybe about the size of a mouse. That’s it, my sadness is a small purple mouse with a slow pulse. But I can feel it there. Like something I ate that got stuck in my teeth. It’s funny because when I have expressed to my friends that I was feeling down or cried they look at me like really? I did not know you were…… sad. I am always surprised by that, that others seems me as stoic, strong, stone -- some mythical Amazonian Black woman who sheds no tears. I guess I am somewhat to blame for my own stereotype. I present myself as strong, intelligent and very, very Black. Original Black Afrikan Woman. Black Afrikan women cry indigo tears but only during childbirth—maybe. 

Or ghetto Black women get to cry blood red tears when they are panthers raging at baby fathers or no good niggas. White women get to cry silver tears. Everyone gathers by to cup them in their hands and sing to them like precious jewels. White women are the best criers, everyone expects them to cry and trips over their feet to let them see a rainbow again. But Black women—be they Queens or Bitches or both only get to shed tears of hysteria. And when she lets it out no one wants to touch her to tell her it will be okay for they fear drowning in the monsoon. They fear she can no longer carry their weight for them and their backbones will break. They fear the end of civilization. So no one encourages her to let it all out, she is encouraged to say fuck it. Scream and fight—cause your anger is common and expected or cloak yourself in Afrika and let ankhs and words in Kiswahili be your shield, being the mother of civilization is after all enough….

So why am I sad? What was my trigger? The humidity and the rain? Watching my son get into some other woman’s car with his father? Not having much contact with another adult for a week? Seeing all the Black women around me confused and sad? Being a fulltime mommy and trying to figure out how to discipline my son without being an emasculating Black bitch? Because I haven’t had a man in over a month and miss being soft and having arms to cradle me? The one who used to hold me stopped calling. The one who I am married to, I don’t want to touch me and the one who I want to touch me probably never will. Why? Because I am scary because I am serious. I do smile but I am serious. I laugh and joke but I am serious. I am sexy but I am serious. Act like a lady but think like man. Be sweet and shinny. Rub his back. Feed him, fuck him and don’t complain. Be mythical. Be manipulative and give good head. But when you are too serious you are dangerous because questions are asked and hey, he’s still young.  And I could go on and talk about slave masters and Black studs but I won’t. I could conjure up Aunt Sara and the Hottentot Venus but that’s another essay.

I am watching sadness boiled down to a purple mouse that lives inside my chest. It acts up sometimes like arthritis when outside is rainy and gray and no one calls. It responds to chocolate, poetry, meditation, herbal teas, prayer, tears and sometimes fantasies. At other times I just take a movie for about two hours and lay on my couch. When I am feeling really mystical I’ll read a book on Afrikan Vodou or watch a youtube clip of someone dancing Oshun. Tonight, maybe I’ll pray over some honey to remind me that I am a goddess or take a bath in some blue water made salty by my tears.         

The Massage--poetry book sneak peak :)

Ok, yall I'm wrapping up my first week back at work and I am tired!! I want to write but I really just want a massage so here's a sneak peak at a short but sweet poem to be featured in my upcoming book. Dedicated to all the tired hard working women who need some love rubbed into their backs!!

The Massage

I need someone to dig in and loose these knots

Burrow deep inside flesh and muscle

hard and soft

fast and slow

Send some fresh blood to break up

the tension and stiffness

Lay me out till I am a limp noodle

a body without bones and sharp edges

Pry me open

till I gush,

screaming a steamy river

I need someone to dig in and loose these knots

Pound a new rhythm into these tendons

pulse and vibrate

sound and silence

Awaken a beat to send me spinning

Lay flat the old patterns

till I am a sea of call and response

A song without breaks and blues

Stretch me open

Till I roar

Singing a sweet volcano

SACRED SEX

                      (me dancing at Freak Nasty, now known as The Sweet Spot)

It’s been a while since I blogged!! A lot has been going on in a good way! I have been putting the pedal to the metal to churn out my poetry book so most of my creative energies have been going there. I had a GREAT summer, though in many ways it was quiet, I finally did what I have been intending to do for the past 5 years, work on my writing! I also performed a few times which too was one my goals.

Recently I spent time reflecting and realize that for the past five years—maybe more—my throat, sacral (sex) and root chakras have been underactive while my solar plexus chakra has been overactive. What is a chakra? Energy centers in our body that govern certain mental, physical and spiritual faculties. (If you want to know about these energy centers and whether you are balanced, overactive or underactive in them check out www.whitetigertantra.com). When these energies are out of wack this often manifests as a disease of the physical body. An example is that while I was married, I was not writing and performing like I used to and not verbally expressing my true feelings of discontent about the relationship; as a result, I was constantly catching sore throats that would cause me to literally loose my voice (throat chakra).

Having an overactive solar plexus chakra and underactive throat, sacral and root chakra means that in the past I have been ungrounded and uncreative, did not express my voice, was not connected to my sensuality and was in many ways, too rigid and critical of others. Yup, this was me in a nutshell. I call the former me the “Afro-Centric Nun”. 

                           (me during my afro-centric nun days. i still love malcolm x)

You know the type: headwrap, long skirts, Bob Marley t-shirt, rapping about the devil of the white man! Now don’t get me wrong, this is still me but my sense of self now has expanded to be a fuller expression of who I am. So I still have my headwraps and will rock them from time to time but I also will rock booty shorts, fishnet stockings and take a pole dancing class if the spirit moves me. As Erykah Badu said, “It’s all me!” I can’t be confined inside anyone’s box.  Many parade around in costumes, dressed as their representative and not who they truly are for fear of what others might think. I have the privilege of being 30 now and not giving a fuck…..

So as I heal my energy centers, it is only natural that I become more creative, expressive, vocal and sensual. In fact, the sacral chakra contains both our sexual and creative energies which really are one in the same. To be truly creative one has to have a deep connection to their sensuality for sexual energy is the force of creation in the universe. For this reason, I have noticed that I am most creative when I am ovulating or on my cycle....

This summer, I wrote a lot of poetry and had a lot of sex! It was beautiful! Many of you know that I am completely fascinated and entranced with the practice of sacred sex and tantra. I dare not say that I am a practitioner or master but I have been reading and engaging in certain exercises that deals with the magic, sacredness and healing aspects of sexual energy. In fact, during this summer I experienced crying for the first time after having sex. Not crying because it was wack and I was frustrated but because a certain energy point was touched and pain was released.  I also experienced going into trance (altered state of awareness) during sex. Ever been filled with the holy ghost during sex?! HA! You should try it. It feels soooooo good to be connected to my sacral and root chakras. I wish I could describe it but it is as if I have swallowed the sun and she is buzzing in my yoni (sankrit word for vajay-jay meaning origin, source of life). It’s that energy you feel when you see someone you are really attracted to or when a song that puts you in the mood comes on. It is one of the most powerful energies in the universe and when channeled the proper way can heal you and manifest your desires in the world. If you are connected, than you should be able to feel this energy throughout your whole body after having sex. I circulate my energy and send it to heal me. While having sex, I can literally feel it in my throat cleansing and healing that chakra. I’m getting excited just talking about it!!

So this has been my journey thus far and I feel it is only a minute part of the beginning. I am returning to work this week (I’m a teacher) with a bit of melancholy cause I enjoyed my freedom of the summer so much. But hey, I am a magician, I will create my life. I am connected to a powerful engine of manifestation roaring between my legs. I AM the power of creative divine feminine energy moving throughout the universe. What a beautiful path, won’t you come with me?

  (shiva and shakti- representative of divine feminine and masculine energy- in sacred embrace)