Eternal Sunshine…

Eternal Sunshine…

How happy is the blameless vessle’s lot! / The world forgetting, by the world forgot / Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! / Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d

Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

I had a treat to watch one of my very favorite movies last night – The Waking Life. I’m a real nerd to love it. Because it turns EVERYONE off. Save for one other person I know. My hubby stretched up real tired like and fell asleep on it. It’s a LOT of talk… and it’s a LOT of revolving theory. But… when I watch it… I start to really think again. In this world that I’m in… I’m not really encouraged to think creatively about life. I can think creatively about business and creatively about how to make money… but rarely use the natural curiosity that we all have to really delve into the question of why we’re here and what are we doing. A new thought occurred to me watching it…

They were mentioning how in the dream state… if you can become lucid within your dream and realize that is indeed what you’re doing, the possibilities are infinite of what you can do and accomplish. They went on to say how in dying… you are permanently in the dream state, unable to awake. And I thought – that HAS to be promising. To end up in a world where anything is possible if you can realize it and take control of your own actions to make it reality…

Wait…

That sounds like life… now.

Two sides to the same coin. Life is death. Death is life. A dimensions’ difference. There are so many times in a day where I swear that my awake life is a dream. And we’ve all been convinced that a dream was reality… until we wake up. Something gets lost in the translation between the dimensions. I wake up feeling bad for the Victoria on the other side. Shit is weird in her world. She probably thinks the same of me and my reality. But I can only seem to hold on to little bits and pieces of her memories. Then I want to go and make a big deal about them and try to piece them together to make meaning out of my own.

I was talking to MB the other day about the quality of Forgetting. How it is indeed a blessing at times. Sure, we forget little things, like where we put our keys and what direction to go to get to Grandma’s house. But there are certain things that erode with time or that we suppress for the sake of our sanity. Because their being everpresent would make it impossible to enjoy life in the smallest measures. If you couldn’t glean… a huge argument was had with my hubby over the weekend. We lost days of sleep over it… or at the very least, I did. We talked… and yelled…. and cussed and said things we didn’t mean. Followed up by discussions and strategizing on how to recover. All weekend long, I prayed to wake up from this nightmare. I’d had several like it and was saved by the notion of awareness. Not this time, though. I was going to experience this all like salt on an open wound. The more plotting out we did and the closer we have been coming to understanding… the more I just want to forget the whole thing and go back to “normal”. Chalk it all up to weirdness and go back to cuddling all the time and loving all the time. But unfortunately, I can’t afford a spotless mind now if I want this union to last a lifetime. We have a long road ahead of us. It’s been laid out there for a minute… but we’d been sort of… thinking we knew a short cut or an alternate route. But those roads just have us lost.

Hopefully we’ll realize that anything is possible…

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In the Blink of An Eye

In the Blink of An Eye

So much can happen over night. In the blink of an eye.

Your car can go from being in PERFECT, BRAND NEW condition… to being smashed up by careless drivers.

You can go from being a regular person, earthbound… to being a pilot for a day and living out your dreams

You can go from being a regular person, earthbound… to being scared shitless in the backseat of a Cessna, gripping on for dear life while the person mentioned above lives out his dream.

You can go from starving and stressed out to full and completely wasted

You can realize that the love you thought you had that was so good and pure… is just like all the others. Not a smidge different.

You can realize that people think that you’re completely gullible and willing to believe anything when you have facts and a WORKING brain.

You can go from thinking you have the perfect life… to wondering what to make of this mess and how will you clean it up and move on.

Funny… I looked up the word cuckold for it’s female gender counter part and could find none. I guess the most direct translation then would be the word “WIFE”. Cause that’s just what should be expected.

Love…d *continued*

I’m not overreacting.

Her concert in NY in 2000 was E & my first “date” and she was an artist that he turned me on to. She sang of deep love – love that you cherish and appreciate, that you write poems about, that you fight for, that augments your love of self, that makes you better. And this man pointed her out to me and said he liked and appreciated her music – which spoke volumes to me about him.

In a catalogue of man bashing, angry, jilted, misused, “constantly hurting” lyrics from artists male and female – she conjured up Black Love… called him by name (not some alias)… gazed lovingly at her ring during her song sets… making googoo eyes at him in the front row.

She showed the world that it was alright to be sappily disgustingly goopy sweet in love – a patron saint to me… because it’s PRECISLEY the kind of love I like and that I’m in. And since her… no one else really. Their songs tread lightly on love in comparison.

So to know that that love is on the outs… saddens me. I can’t really point to another couple that’s sappier than E and I anymore (famous or no)… but I feel that sweetness is paramount. It’s that same sugar you see between old black couples – I want to believe that was ALWAYS in their fiber… not developped over time out of habit. But… shit happens.. I guess.

I am holding fast to mine. shit or no.

He Love…d Me…

He Love…d Me…

As if it’s not been hard enough to get up in the morning (or stay awake for that matter…)

JILL SCOTT: Divorce Neo-Soul Style

Posted Jun 15th 2007 11:50AM by Karu F. Daniels
By Karu F. Daniels, AOL Black Voices

Jill Scott and Lyzel Williams during happier times (in 2005). The two are going through divorce proceedings after five years of marriage. It’s official.
After months of rumors and speculation, The BV Newswire has confirmed that Jill Scott is headed to splitsville.

The two-time Grammy Award winning neo-soul powerhouse is “going through divorce proceedings” with her longtime lover and husband of five years Lyzel Williams, an insider confirmed.

The two were married in the fall of 2001 during a private Hawaiin ceremony during a vacation.

Williams, who, at the time, was a much an in-demand graphic artist and DJ, dated Scott for seven years before the nuptials took place.

“We went to the club, we hung out, we danced, we shook it up, we drank, we partied,” she spoke of Williams in an interview with ‘Launch’ in 2001. “But we also went to carnivals, and we took long walks. I enjoyed his company so much. I’m glad I can say I’m such, so resoundingly blessed to have him in my life.”

He was the source of inspiration for many of her compositions, notably the fan favorite ‘He Loves Me (Lyzel In E Flat)’ — which has been reinterpreted by gospel powerhouse Karen Clark-Sheard, and sang onstage by Beyonce Knowles.

I’m tired.

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Grief / Release

Grief / Release

Just got home from the Musiq / Jill Scott concert. Thought I’d be in a much better mood considering how much I love Jill’s music and concert performance. But I got some really disturbing news while I was there. My first spech’s mother passed away. She’d been suffering from Alzheimer’s for some time now and she finally went to her resting place this evening. I got the news in a text message right as Jill was singing some rendition of a song of hers in Latin. “Gloria…” she sang… the melody almost sounded like a requiem as I stood there mouth agape. I flashed back to meeting this woman in my spech’s apartment at that time. She was a woman of great stature and elegance and we greeted her the way my spech taught us. She was a Fine Woman of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc. While I was on line, I was not allowed to recite any negativity about the Zetas on account of my spech’s mother. And I respected my spech’s wishes and her desire to keep it that way. You can’t talk bad about my mother either; I don’t care WHAT org. she’s in vs. what you’re in.

When my dad was dying, I shared a few brief conversations with my spech about him and about the wedding (there was so much dichotomy back then). And she consoled that we were all at that age. The age when we watch our parents deteriorate and die and she told me what was happening with her mom. I was shocked to hear what was going on. I would NEVER have thought THAT woman would suffer from ANY disease, let alone that one. The pain in my spech’s voice really mirrored the hurt of what I was going through with my dad but would probably never tell anyone.

And now to have that news. Being in that position it’s so strange. Because underneath all the hurt and pain and suffering for the loss… there is that part of you that feels released. That feels freed from the hurt of having to continually watch a loved one die. And you hate yourself for feeling that way.

What I wish most for her is to feel peace, eventually. I’m still looking for it myself.

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