Category: #tirades

#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.

#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, #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.

 

 

#thoughts, #tirades, Uncategorized

my unpopular opinion on monetizing creativity

ronellegreen

in honor of creatives everywhere, selling prints, beats, and whatever your pieces are – shine on. between self doubt, lack of support, cost of producing and just.. living, it can be extremely difficult to do your best work in a way that is sustainable and lucrative. (i had to link my friend’s new song in right there because i’m living for it right now). anyway, i want to write on something that’s been scratching at my sanity lately.

a chunk of my generation of creatives, be it career creatives or dabblers, are latching onto this new narrative of entitlement that makes me cringe. this is in two ways:

  1. you think your friends are supposed  to throw money at you for your work just because they’re your friends.
  2. you think the whole world should know/care/accept how much it costs you to produce your work, and be ever-willing to pay top dollar for said work, because they know/care/accept how much it costs you.

not only do you think one of, or both, those things, but you’re angry about it. you tweet rant about it. you condescend those who verbally, not monetarily, express support for you. you chit chat in your creative friend groups about the measly non-creatives who “just don’t understand” and huff and puff about your acrylics and canvases and photography equipment and instruments and blah. blah. blah.

my reply to this chunk of my generation of creatives:

  1. your friends might not care about your work at all. that’s okay. they don’t have to consume your work because they’re your friend. they can support you in countless other ways. friends ≠guaranteed customers.
  2. (unfortunately, but actually) no one cares. people will buy your work because they are moved by it and think it is quality, not because they know/care/accept how hard it must be for you.

the point about all your whining and anger with the modern, young art consumer is this, absolutely, positively, no one cares. and no one should. here’s why.

art is something that feels personal to the artist, I get that. my poems all feel like my vital organs. but guess what, your art does not feel personal to the viewer  – it feels like a product. and it is a product. especially if you intend to earn money for it. once you decide to earn hard dollars for the art you produce, you have a responsibility now to not only produce good work, but to operate as a business entity. that is what you are now, a business. wendy’s does not get to say to burger-buyers: “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH BEEF AND WAGES AND MAINTENANCE COST? STOP COMPLAINING AND BUY OUR BURGERS”. apple does not get to say “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT COSTS TO DEVELOP iOS AND MAKE iPHONES? SHUT UP AND BUY OUR STUFF”. no business on earth gets to say that. no business on earth gets to whine about potential customers not liking their pricing, or not wanting to pay what they think their product is worth. so you shouldn’t feel like you get to, either. what businesses have to do is adjust their price schema to fit their target markets. so for you, decide who you’re targeting, build a deliberate, thought out, standardized pricing strategy. decide on a marketing strategy. do research into how to operate as a fully functional sole proprietorship – that is what you become the minute you want to make money for your work. your friends are your friends – not necessarily your target market. aside from them plainly using you for your talents and abusing the work you do, stop getting upset with them for supporting you in ways other than buying your work. sometimes, they simply don’t care about your work enough to pay for any of it – and that’s okay. some of my absolute best friends don’t ever read my blog or poetry, and it’s okay, because they just don’t care for this type of thing. i don’t send off angry tweets about them being “fake” and not “supporting” me – my asking for their support through consumption of my work is different from my asking them to support me as a companion and friend. consuming your work is not the only way people can support you! you are more than the art you produce.

with that said, i am not telling you to settle for selling your work for less than you think it is worth. nor am i telling you to become a passionate business magnate. all i’m saying is, this neo-starving-artist logic has to go. i’m sure your work is worth what you think it is. and i’m sure your talent can feed you and build an empire. act like it. operate like it. monetize it. but bring it up to standard, polish it, and know that there will be countless people who don’t care about it, want to buy it, or think it’s good – and that’s fine.

 

#lifestyle, #thoughts, #tirades

“I wish I met you first”

ronellegreen

the line i’ve gotten so many times that even I wish I met me first. 

 

it’s offensive on an offensive amount of levels.

 

as in, is my level of interesting-ness directly proportional to the sequence in which you meet me and other women?  “if I meet ronelle first, then she’s most cool. but if I meet her last, she’s least cool”? is that it?

that’s not it. what it is, is the slyest, most carefully crafted getaway tool used by guys in my generation. it’s the scapegoat, the getaway card, the abort-mission call they use when the simultaneous entertainment of multiple women goes wrong. it’s what you say when one girl is sure she should be the preferred choice, but isn’t. it implies the acquiescence of “yes, you should be preferred”, but the resistance of “but it’s not your time” all in one six word sentence. it’s as if to say, “if you came before her, you would be it – but you didn’t, so i’m obligated to go with the first comer”. is your saying you wish you met me first supposed to flatter me, or appease me? because it does neither. it infuriates me. have you not the autonomy and choice to decide to court a woman based on what you feel, rather than the order she arrives in? I think the line is moronic. literally. If you met me first then what? And okay, you didn’t meet me first – do I line up and wait until it’s my time to be seen by you? no, fam.

 

#everbless