poems, relationships

an enthusiastic yes: how to not commit sexual assault

ronellegreen

in the spirit of education
indignation, condemnation
here is some hopefully helpful instruction

never you forget
to ask permission

never you forget
that any hint of sex
ought to be on at least one condition

that is
it ought to be the product of sweet
safe, communication

with mutual contribution

ought to come after a tender

“may I?”
“can I?”

“touch you there?”
“touch you here?”

slow rumble, to desired eruption

yes
please

it is to be respected
never to be neglected
consent
must be present
in any sexual event

consent sounds like
a soft silky sober whisper
an absence of all danger
and pay attention to the rest:
an enthusiastic “yes”

those assaulted
are often asked
whether they managed to say no
given we know
how fear can go
you can do your best
by focusing on whether
they’ve managed to say yes

remember the capacity
to consent with alacrity
is not a “nice to have”
rather, an absolute necessity

a sleeping or incapacitated
aggravated, medicated
debilitated, or sedated
person cannot want you
cannot be enthused
and cannot exercise their right
to refuse

ease
into it, or
ease up off me

ease
intuit
or ease up off we

In honor of April: sexual assault awareness and poetry month | #MeToo

#thoughts, #tirades, relationships

desire: a short story, in poems

ronellegreen

desire: desire I
December 4

I haven’t been inspired by someone in so long
up late
wired for someone in so long

haven’t felt real fire for someone in so long
real ire for someone
because of someone
despite someone
haven’t felt much in relation to someone or anyone in so long

been resonating deeply with absolutely
no one, for so long
no one, but I
can tell I’m onto something
I’m falling into something
but climbing up to something?

I am on the trail of the scent of ascent
low visibility but never reminiscent of descent
I feel

lost
but guided?
I understand fundamentally my north star
but struggle to grasp my path
questions in tow
inquiring mind
but heat in my soul
though not at the base of my spine

haven’t been inspired by someone in so long
admired, desired by someone in so long

I’ve just been tired for so long

desire: forever
December 28

all the right things, resonating
not wanting to, but holding out
waiting

willing into existence
more time in your presence
mind stuttering. belly fluttering

slowly satiating

desires met
desires multiplied
mutual respect
abounds
admiration fuels inspiration
making the mental rounds
feeling proud

feeling the stirring in my loins

ever curious
ever keen

feeling again
like a child again
again, and again

how much time do we have?
how much is ours?

desire: desire II
January 23

no matter how much I think has resonated
it hasn’t been enough to redeem me
from suspension in emotional purgatory, breath bated

it hasn’t been enough to convince me
our alignment wasn’t ill-fated

what but a mockery could this be?
why God would strike a match
under my skin
for one He knows
won’t be a match
is unbeknown to me

I deserve and can earn attention
that is undivided
you mean to tell me
that what feels like the love of my life
will be unrequited?

desire: desire III
February 25

every big love you feel is not the love of your life, girl
you are expansive
ever growing, ever larger
than life itself

guided by God himself

and herself and themself. by yourself


hence nothing is bigger than you
above you
everything is you

everything is you

you desired desire, received it, then got mad when it didn’t come with the attachment of a person

you desired desire, and received it

you desire
you don’t desire him

your desire was never forever, it was always
only desire

#lifestyle, #thoughts, #tirades

learnings from a gunman on anxiety

ronellegreen

we only had one pair of earplugs that worked without impeding the rifle-to-cheek relationship required as you set up, sit up, and shoot. that means my uncle-in-law, cousin-in-law and I had to share. yes, share – trying to sanitize and hand off to each other for our respective turns between unpredictably random, deafening shots being fired by other people on the range.

risky transitions resulting in a heart rate through the roof, and shaky shooting at first. even with guidance from the instructor and my family. adding to my heightened heart rate was the fact that I struggled to shoot at all – overwhelmed by the power and weight of the deadly weapon I was being trained to handle.

this was a classic case of simply being overwhelmed, from which I learnt that overwhelming things can – like most challenges we face – be overcome with technique and practice.

it was a gunman who made it clear to me.

I should clarify that by “gunman,” I mean a regular-looking guy next to me on the range who demonstrated expert tactical skill with his firearm while doing his target practice – not necessarily a criminal – albeit, who knows?

the range instructor yelled, “CEASE FIRE!” and after a single, unruly shot from an unruly shooter, a repeat of the ceasefire command, and a lecture on range safety and obeying commands (the first time they’re given), the gunman and I both went to retrieve our perforated targets (coincidentally) together. he said he’d seen me hit near the target so many times that he knew neither my aim nor positioning was the issue – it was my breathing.

he launched into an unsolicited, but appreciated spiel on how newcomers to the range and people shooting large firearms for the first time (both described me) tend to hold their breath.

we anticipate a thunderous boom, an ironclad jolt to the shoulder, and an obvious, instantaneous pass or fail result based on whether the target 100 yards away was hit.

we then hold tension in our bodies. clench our jaws and furrow our brows. we aim, and try our best to hold still.

in trying so hard to hold still, in holding our breath to do so, we inadvertently – and on a much more nuanced scale than if moving consciously and decisively – cause more movement. we quicken and amplify our heart rate by holding our breath and cutting our oxygen supply, leaving our hearts to beat with a more resounding vibrational thud within the chest cavity.

with the speed, power, size, and weight of a bullet leaving the barrel of a rifle, the very beat of one’s heart can shift its trajectory.

my new gunman friend said to me – “breathe.”

I went back to the range a few weeks following and probably seemed very odd, given how deeply and intentionally I was breathing the whole time. I sat down in position to shoot, thought to myself, “breathe,” and bullseye.

apparently, if at the bottom of your breath – right when your lungs are empty and before you take in new air – you let the full weight of your index finger rest squarely on the trigger, your bullet will land exactly where you aimed it. even that amused me – the fact that we really ought not “pull” triggers but instead, lightly engage them, pressing backward. I think society has been conditioned to believe that hard work and effort brings success, but in my own life, I’ve proven time and time again that it’s in fact through relaxing into what flows naturally that brings success.

in that shot fired, in a single second, I learnt one of my most lasting lessons.

all this to say – it’s this simple: remember to breathe.

#lifestyle, #thoughts, #tips&tricks, #tirades

life lessons from peacocks

ronellegreen

Are you proud to be you?

In reflecting on this question recently, posed by myself to myself, the proverbial “as proud as a peacock” came to mind and I wondered, “Why are peacocks ‘proud’?”

From that rabbit hole of random peacock research came the following lessons I think we can take from these majestic birds in emancipating ourselves mentally:

STAY GROUNDED

Peafowl create their nests on the ground, though they perch on treetops and can fly. As social animals, peafowl do not like to be alone, and they stay rooted, connected and “grounded” to their harem, just as we can stay connected to our history, our lineage, and the physical space we occupy on earth. 

THERE IS MORE TO LIFE THAN THAT WHICH WE CAN PERCEIVE WITH OUR FIVE SENSES

Of the 11 types of sounds they make, peacocks make sounds with their feather trains that humans are incapable of hearing. That we cannot perceive these sounds does not mean they do not exist. There is room in the universe for a real rationale behind the inexplicable things of life, such as our gut feelings/intuition, wild coincidences, disasters, and what we call miracles. If we admit that we cannot perceive everything there is, we can decide that what we can’t perceive is for our own good, and we can move through life knowing there is always *more,* and trusting that it is always in our favor.

PATIENCE

A peacock’s feather train only develops after about three years, after which it is used to attract mates. Things take time, even things that are fundamental to self. With patience, the evolution of our desires can be savored and enjoyed as our wants and needs (which are just ideas) come to fruition in reality.

SHINE

Peacock feathers house microscopic, iridescent, crystalline structures that reflect light beautifully. Putting one’s best self on display always comes naturally to the peacock, and is responsible for their physical evolution on the planet, since it’s how they attract mates and continue to procreate. As we work to become our best selves and to live our best lives, it may benefit us to show up in life everyday as who we are working to become and attract.

Follow @emancipatingself on Instagram for more bite-sized content in this realm of journeying through “Self.”

#lifestyle, #thoughts, #tips&tricks, #tirades, relationships

on “badmind”

ronellegreen

bad·mind — (ADJECTIVE) Jamaican patois expression describing someone who is jealous of others and is constantly critiquing other people’s lives. This person is extremely envious of the success of others, wishing/plotting for their downfall or failure.
“Him badmind mi because mi a drive BMW.”

It’s a phenomenon. And it is real. Jealousy, of course, is an undeniable human emotion. So much so that in many cultures, for all of history, there are traditions and stories and belief systems that address it, and seek to protect loved ones against it.

One thing about my professional experience so far working in NYC that I’m especially grateful for is the cultural exchange I’ve been able to be part of. It’s through going to an after-work drinking session at the Trading Post in the Seaport District (R.I.P. — it didn’t survive the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns, and it was a true fave) and half-drunkenly bonding with a senior team member from Greece, that I learnt 1. how similar Greek and Jamaican cultures happen to be, but more importantly, 2. the power “the evil eye” holds in her life.

After we talked at length about how she basically makes mannish water all the time (I mean with real goat head too; a great feat in an NYC apartment, mind you), she delved into how her mother uses every opportunity, every day, to leave small evil eye charms in every nook and cranny, every crevice of every space that her loved ones occupy.

“When it comes to warding off the mystic malevolent forces of the world, there is perhaps no charm more recognised or renowned than the ‘evil eye’,” according to BBC. The article continues:

“To understand the origins of the evil eye, one must first understand the distinction between the amulet and the evil eye itself. Though often dubbed as ‘the evil eye’, the ocular amulet is actually the charm meant to ward off the true evil eye: a curse transmitted through a malicious glare, usually one inspired by envy. Though the amulet — often referred to as a nazar — has existed in various permutations for thousands of years, the curse which it repels is far older and more difficult to trace.”

The curse which it repels is badmind!

Envy, jealousy, badmind, evil eye. All seem, to me, to be the same concept.

In ancient Egypt, the Eye of Horus was buried with pharaohs to protect them in the afterlife. In Turkey, it is still a tradition to bring an evil eye token to newborn children. I know in Jamaica, some people tie red string around newborns’ wrists to protect them too. The Ojo de Venado or Deer’s Eye charm is a Mexican form of magical protection against the evil eye — a person (not an evil person, per se) harming you or your children by looking at you or them with envy and/or praising them, even without touching them.

So, I think it is fair to say badmind is real, and that it is a universal law. I can’t address the badmind of newborn babies, so I’m inclined to maintain my sense of spirituality and maybe even traditions like red string/charms in my future (at least to be safe, right?), but as for the badmind of material things and of earthly success, I do think we can heal that.

I think badmind comes from a mindset that only perceives lack. I know, because I’ve felt it. Most recently with regard to relationships, seeing majority of my best friends and countless people in their close-knit bonds with their life partners while I am yet to meet mine. My mom had already been years into a serious long-term relationship with my father by the time she was my current age, and had me when she was just a year older than I am right now. But, I am aware of the focus on the self-comparison and lack in this scenario, the fact that I *don’t have* a serious partner.

The point of this entry is to highlight a simple addition to this mindset that can actually shift it for the better, and leave you with the thought that a little mindfulness can heal badmind.

If I shift my mindset from focusing on the lack in my life, to framing everything, no matter what, in light of abundance, then I subconsciously, subtly, open myself up for possibility. Yes, I *don’t have* a serious partner — yet.

I can still get one. I’m alive and breathing and am my wonderful self.

It’s through working through this within myself that I’ve concluded that badmind is prevalent in cultures/societies like Jamaica’s, and possibly other emerging markets, because equal, widespread opportunity and upward social mobility are still ongoing struggles. The default of the majority is still to focus on what we lack, and that is understandable, since what we lack objectively amounts to a lot, but it is also objectively overwhelming and unhelpful. Almost impossible to move past with any sense of progress, purpose, or possible prosperity.

If somehow, we could train our minds so that our default thought as we come across things we first feel envy toward, or perceive to be impossible for ourselves (cue self-limiting beliefs), could always be “I can have that too,” we’d operate as if we could, and I’d argue that is how we would. “Perception is reality” isn’t really an empty trope. What once represented sour sources of jealousy would suddenly transform into visual sources of inspiration. Badmind would be over, and we’d unlock new heights for our lives.

Mind over matter, people. Bob’s been telling us forever to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery, as none but ourselves can free our minds 🙂

#lifestyle, #thoughts, #tirades, Uncategorized

a reflection on my first memory of racism in America

ronellegreen

I couldn’t get my bearings, or tell left from right, or figure out where the train station was in relation to where I was standing. I had just moved to the US and didn’t have a phone yet, but I had a destination. I stood on the sidewalk, reading signs and staying positive. “You’re smart, you’ll figure it out,” I whispered to myself. I was proud and on my way to college in Washington, DC, but this was my first time feeling this cold and this lost. Spinning like a gig, somewhere in Virginia.

I saw a man walking past and thought to ask for directions to the nearest train station. “He looks like he’s from here, he’ll know,” I said to myself. “It’s just directions. And otherwise you’ll be stuck here.”

“Excuse me, sir. Could you point me to th– “

“–I don’t have any cash, excuse me,” the stout, white man hissed the second he laid eyes on me. I stood, stunned, as he scurried off in undeniable scorn and fear, clutching his briefcase.

I crossed the street and went into a Starbucks, heading straight for the bathroom. I stared in that dirty Starbucks mirror for 15 minutes, looking for the beggar in my face.

I spoke to myself out loud. “Your hair is frizzy. That must be it. Or actually, it’s this scarf.”

“The scarf is scraggly,” I persuaded myself.

I felt more confused than insulted. I wondered what in the start of my sentence implied that I was asking that stranger for money. I wondered if he couldn’t hear the strong Caribbean accent when I spoke, if he couldn’t see that I was just lost. I put my scarf in my suitcase. I bought a latte and continued in search of the nearest train station.

It took years of my being here – of hearing other people speak of white women clutching their purses on sight of Black people – to eventually understand that I didn’t really look like a beggar that day. I looked Black. I looked like a Black woman with the audacity to ask for something – even directions.

I experienced racism in retrospect, and that’s been particularly illuminating for me. It’s highlighted for me that we all may or may not have consciously experienced or been exposed to racism, but regardless, we all have a duty to be able to explain it.

Racism is a feature of [modern] American society, and by way of being part of that society, it is relevant to all of us. It’s dangerous to remain oblivious, since this is a matter of life and death for human beings. That’s the danger with not ‘seeing color” – If you don’t see color, you also don’t see the problem, which makes you part of it.

In every space we occupy, we can challenge ourselves to see color and see how it affects the way we feel and think. We can challenge ourselves to practice empathy and understanding, and to probe every one of our preconceived notions about people and systems (from real estate, to healthcare, to education etc.). Understand that all the original architects of racism are dead; these are all inherited and learned mindsets and behaviors. Now is the time to learn and unlearn as needed, and to build the necessary habit of that going forward.

#lifestyle, #thoughts, Uncategorized

love letter to Jamaica

ronellegreen

My love for reggae music isn’t surface level, and doesn’t end at the music itself. Reggae is a genre I’ve come to believe is sacred. At least for me it is. I have countless personal anecdotes to explain that statement, but I’ll share a recent one for the sake of brevity.

I was talking to a man, getting to know him, and boy, did I love him off. We fell out after one of the most absurd conversations I’ve had in my life, during which he descended into classing me all kinds of ways. Only one of his attempts to insult me stuck, and it was that I am a rebel without a cause.

This, because I’m one to love a debate. I’m opinionated, I love to think and am eager to learn, and I love to challenge the views of myself and others in pursuit of never ending learning. It’s fundamental to my being, and has been used against me since my first memory of myself. All my high school report cards include a comment from a teacher or principal emphasizing that my potential is hindered by how much I love to chat and argue.

I am now acutely aware that some people will just not be my people because of this, and that my natural inclination to question and assert is an asset in all the right spaces, and that’s a liberating awareness that I don’t take for granted. As I’ve been consciously doing deep work on my Self this past year — probing every one of my self-limiting beliefs; healing all my hurt feelings; crystallizing all my loftiest dreams and goals with hundreds of hours of journaling, reading, and challenges (from personal finance to meditation to unlocking my vision of self, etc.) — I’ve continued to listen to reggae music, mainly because… good vibes.

During the very period of my self work to heal my hurt feelings about being labeled a causeless rebel — I can’t make this up — Pressure Busspipe released his album, “Rebel With a Cause.”

“Rebel With a Cause” is an album that includes a song that will play in the background of my future wedding, a verse by Jah9 that is no less than formative, and an overall message so in line with what I was, at that very same time of release, experiencing, but also on a different level, what I continue to experience now.

So for me, reggae is sacred. It is always sent for me with very direct instructions and affirmations hidden in lyrics and titles and sound power. It’s an art that I deeply appreciate.

That is not the point of this love letter, though. The point is that as a nation, for generations, we have birthed and been home to not just a powerful genre, but power infinite and fundamentally untraceable.

The other day, I learnt that Jamaica was basically Martin Luther King, Jr.’s favorite island, and that he rented a house in Ochi, minutes away from where I’ve lived majority of my life, to write his last book before being assassinated — arguably one of his most prophetic works — “Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community,” a plan for a future America, in peace and solitude.

Shortly after that, in reading Zora Neale Hurston’s ethnographic study, “Tell My Horse,” I came across her words: “The very best place to be in all the world is St. Mary[‘s parish], Jamaica.” St. Mary, where I’ve lived majority of my life. Zora Neale Hurston, prolific juggernaut in my very passion, writing.

I don’t even need to get into listing Jamaican greats like Usain Bolt, like Bob Marley. I don’t even need to talk about the global impact of our tiny nation’s culture and people.

It’s no mystery or argument that greatness and Jamaica are synonymous. My solitary greatest wish for every Jamaican is a radical acceptance of the proximity to greatness, in any sense of the word, that is their birthright.

I’m not sure where my love for Jamaica really comes from, but I vividly recall a moment in which, maybe, it was born. I was 8 years old and standing in the crowd of the student population at morning devotion at my preparatory school in Upton, St. Ann, where we were required to sing Jamaica’s National [School] Song:

I pledge my heart forever
To serve with humble pride
This shining homeland, ever
So long as earth abide

I pledge my heart, this island
As God and faith shall live
My work, my strength, my love, and
My loyalty to give.

O green isle of the Indies,
Jamaica, strong and free,
Our vows and loyal promises,
O heartland, ’tis to thee

I felt an overwhelming sense of emotion, but I couldn’t identify which emotion it was. I got goosebumps hearing the chorus of varying ages sing those words. Inspired by the British song “I Vow to Thee My Country,” the national song for schools was composed with the aim of preparing youth for nationhood after independence, which was gained in 1962. I suppose since we’d already achieved independence and a national identity, it made a patriot out of me.

This is why I laugh at myself when I remember my inner, secret reaction to a themed birthday party my coworkers threw for me at my work study job during my time at Howard University. I walked into the office to screams of “Surpriiiise! Happy birthdayyy!” and to the sight of green mixed drinks, Jamaica flags in the cups, Jamaica flag cupcakes, and Jamaica-themed decorations. I was genuinely happy, of course, but I remember secretly comparing myself to others later that night. My other coworkers had had parties thrown based on things about them and things they loved that weren’t their nationality. I asked myself if everyone saw me as just Jamaican.

After my time of introspection, I’ve concluded I am not just a Jamaican, I love being one. It’s a privilege to have my citizenship be a source of personal pride. Not everyone feels that feeling.

I know we have a lot of work to do, but I’m grateful to have the ability and the will to do my part of that work.

#thoughts, #tirades

soak for a year

ronellegreen

I born and grow in a house where once a year, black currants, prunes, raisins, dates and Red Label wine meet in an already wine-stained basin to begin a year-long dance after that — soaking — each blessing all the others with its essence. In transference, but also in stillness. Atop the fridge, effectively forgotten, for a year. A year spent melding into the sludge backbone of too many fruit cakes for one household oven. Wine and fruits, made one, made better — black as midnight. 

In silent preparation for 12 months to be transformed, then savored. The soak is inanimate, but full of soul in that it is so much more than its physical state. 

It is the intention of my mother to see next Christmas. To provide for her family next Christmas; provide enjoyment, fellowship. To create, next Christmas. It is a deliberate act done each Christmas to better the next. One could argue that this is just the assumption of another Christmas to come, but it is, at least to me, an affirmation of one. 

The soak is unseen for its time of preparation. It goes without notice or praise, but it is still. It is still. It does all it was intended to do. It is inanimate but full of soul in that it represents so much more than its physical state. 

Around the holidays, I always find myself pondering a lot more than usual on my place in the world. The insurgence of all family from all ’bout makes me envision the one I’d like to have for myself one day; the commercialism of the season reminds me of my earthly, materialistic desires, which are tethered to my soul’s desire to be successful in life and my mind’s blankness on how exactly to do that. So somehow, recent thoughts of flying home to fruit cake led me to the realization that I have less discipline… than fruit cake.

I understand that I am personifying the fruit cake, but that is the point. I am an adult human, in magnificent control of all I do and say. I can choose to have the stillness of the black currants, the dates, prunes and raisins, soaking in their bath of Red Label. I can personify them, and realize that for my mother’s famous Christmas fruit cake to exist, there had to be a silent sludge, sitting for a year. doing its job. diligently. each fruit giving its essence. its life? lol. for the betterment of the whole. before the rant and rave, success, on Christmas morning was an extended period of deliberate preparation.

If I could just be a raisin for a moment here and realize that any hard work that, to me, feels thankless or unseen is just the soak. the part where I am on top of the fridge. the part that is responsible for brewing up “success.” and my mother’s Christmas cake.

I would be wise to adopt some of the ways of the wine and the fruits. I’m still struggling with this lesson in real life, but for now, I have a great metaphor and this, my first blog post in nearly three years.

#thoughts, relationships

thirty six questions

ronellegreen

random thought. is love built on a foundation of what is felt, or what is said? can what is said – in conversation, in responses to questions, in explanations of random things – evoke emotion in someone so much as to mimic the sensation of love? or is love built on a more granular, molecular level of energies and frequencies and vibrations matching – purely a feeling?

i came upon something new, a study. dr. arthur aron, professor of psychology at the state university of new york, has scientifically studied love (and been with his wife for fifty years). Somehow, somehow, he managed to come up with a comprehensive list of thirty six questions that can simulate the feeling of falling in love with your question partner.

thirty six questions. after which asking and answering can have you feel suddenly “close” to this person – old friend or stranger. the questions come in sets, each subsequent set being more personal than the prior. the list starts with questions like “do you want to be famous?” but quickly get to “which family member’s death would be most disturbing?”

i loved the questions, however i question the study. do we feel drawn to our question partner based on any answers provided for the questions posed? or only if we like our partner’s answers? and how temporary is this sensation that comes with completing the questions?

regardless, i want to challenge you to run these questions by someone, anyone. grab your dearest friend, or the guy/girl you’re dating, or a stranger, your favourite substance to abuse, a snack, and get into it. make it a date. let me know how it pans out in the comments.

i also want to challenge veterans in love: my parents – married for 20 years, our family members, your family members, anyone you know who has been walking in love by the side of their partner for a significant amount of time. a possible twist could be to ask their partners how they think the questions posed would be answered by them.

(p.s. it would just make my entire life if one of you out there were to read this and actually fall in love with someone after doing the questions. i’d feel like cupid, forever)

(p.s.s. if you want to be extra corny – please do – play “spellbound” by kelissa in the background. i promise it’s a vibe)

the questions:

set 1

  • Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?
  • Would you like to be famous? In what way?
  • Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?
  • What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?
  • When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?
  • If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?
  • Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?
  • Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.
  • For what in your life do you feel most grateful?
  • If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be
  • Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.
  • If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

set 2

  • If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?
  • Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?
  • What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?
  • What do you value most in a friendship?
  • What is your most treasured memory?
  • What is your most terrible memory?
  • If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?
  • What does friendship mean to you?
  • What roles do love and affection play in your life?
  • Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.
  • How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?
  • How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

set 3

  • Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling …”
  • Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share … “
  • If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.
  • Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.
  • Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.
  • When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?
  • Tell your partner something that you like about them already.
  • What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
  • If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?
  • Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?
  • Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?
  • Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.
#thoughts, #tirades

you don’t always get what you want

ronellegreen

you get what you need: a concept

 

you know those universal laws of life that are undeniable and omnipresent? the ones that make people believe in God, and karma, and the energies of the cosmos or whatever. like cause and effect. what goes up must come down. garbage in, garbage out. laws. those laws that govern everything and anything and all things. those laws that govern love, education, and the pursuit of happiness. those laws seem to govern everything but tragedy and disasters – because those never follow laws. good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people, yet karma still rings true when it chooses to – there’s no rhyme or reason to that. you don’t always get what you want. 

this past year in college has been that sentence amplified and personified, in the form of crisis after crisis, hurled at me the way the ball is bowled in a cricket match. this past year in college was a cruel game of dodgeball. a demonstration of mockery of me, by the universe, for reasons i wish i could identify. if i wasn’t on my near death bed from debilitating menstrual cramps or strep throat, listening to the sounds of my once-best-friend-and-roommate having obscenely loud sex with someone i thought i loved over and over again, fighting for my dear life/scholarship in classes i had zero motivation to care about and perform well in, or having mental breakdowns in the shower, i was probably just asleep. because every waking hour this past year felt like a fight. every single one. down to the hours i spent doing fairly pleasant things, like dating, going to concerts, or writing this blog. even those hours felt like a fight – a fight to maintain my sanity and sense of peace. between the great cups of coffee at coffeeshops i couldn’t afford to be at, the late nights out doing college things, the interviews for flopped internship opportunities (and the one that turned out great and landed me on wall street this summer!), the hours spent leading this campus org i’ve attached myself to in unhealthy ways (big ups to the howard university investment group), and the minutes spent trying my very best not to simply melt all the way down – that one line has been sung over and over to me by the universe. it’s been whispered in my ear in the black of night, and been screamed at me in broad daylight – it has been taught to me this 2017 that i simply cannot always get what i want. but i will get what i need. even bad grades, even heartbreak from stupid unworthy ugly boys, even gained weight, even betrayal, even identity theft and ATM fraud on my bank card THREE DIFFERENT TIMES. all of that is, in some kind of evil storybook way, what i need(ed).

so, this is a concept. you get what you need. i wanted to share that with you because it’s an interesting dialogue to start with yourself. imagine if as of this moment, everything that happens to you, you look at from an angle of gratitude to the universe. imagine if every single thing as of right now, you say thank you for, because you admit that you needed it – in whatever way. you needed a lesson, you needed to grow up, you needed to realise something, you needed to smile – you needed it. you needed all of it. imagine if every unfortunate event could be altered just by your mind, to be something that was sent and delivered to you, specifically, because you needed it. got a flat tire? “ok, you know what universe, i needed this, i need to learn how to change a flat.” imagine if you could switch the narrative of everything from “why me?”, to “why not me?”. so cheesy, but now it’s seeming necessary to me. i found myself saying too many times this past year that i have awful luck, and that i never live the charmed life my peers seem to live. a thought process that is laughable, with so many students and people worldwide struggling far more than i am and was. with a friend of mine who left howard university last year due to illness, passing away this week. with so much trouble still in the world. my comparison of self to other seemingly “charmed” people, and my wallowing in self pity and sadness – is laughable. and this realisation is what i needed. the struggle it took for me to land an internship this summer is what i needed to know just how much ass i have to kick in life to be great. the little episode of heartbreak i got is what i needed to illuminate just what i am worth in love and life, and what i ought to value in men. the fight i had to get myself into for academic continuance is what i needed to see just what is required of me with regard to my college career. clarity is what i needed, and i got it. i am still yet, though, to get what i want. but just like i’ve been fighting all year, i’ll keep fighting for that too.

blessings.