Skip to main content

Free Writing (Day 4)




so I’m don’t do a lot of free writing. but it is a good practice to introduce to my creativity. things that are flowing in my mind should be able to come out freely. one of my biggest challenges is my inner edtitor.  he is constantly thinking of better ways to say certain things I think about. most of the time I don’t write anything at all for fear of being misunderstood. I have to get over that and just write from a place of freedom and grace. I am going to offend and I will be misunderstood even if I do everything quote unquote right. so free writing must be a part of my growth process as a writer and a teacher.

I’m learning to give myself permission to explore my imagination and discover the areas of my untapped spirit. the part of me that’s fresh and new and exciting and sensual and intelligent and spiritual and goofy. there was a time when being cool and accepted was my goal in life. it’s funny that once I achieved a certain level of that, I realized that I didn’t need it after all the friends I had were my friends unconditionally. I’m grateful for them. now it that im older and wiser and I’ve overcome a lot of pain and rejection, I understand and value the freedom of exploring my inner self and in fact being myself. I need this freedom if  I dare teach and proclaim freedom to the world that needs to be free from the incarceration of their own self image

but enough about that for now; I want to reflect on why I am so grateful to God for his acceptance of me; it is his love and acceptance that has allowed me to pursue the life that he created me to live; a life that is filled with joy that is greater than happiness. a life that is abundantly rich even without the trappings of things that are shiny.  I don’t have to be sexy, which ironically is the greater sexy because my wife is the only one who needs to find me sexy. everyone else are just extras; she is my star, my jewel, my leading lady in this great adventure I love her for that and the way she looks at me when she is proud of me, the way she laughs at my jokes, the way she holds my hand, the way she kissing the top my head when im tired of the day; the way she caresses my shoulders the way she understand me even when I have nothing to say; she has this way about her that touches the part of me that I can’t reach. she has taught me about love by being in love. and no she is not perfect, but she is perfect for me; she is my fit, my soul mate, my gumbo, my etoufee, my bacon double cheese burger. ok that was a bit too much but I think you get where my heart is.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Force of Divorce (part 1)

I don’t think we truly understand what divorce is and why God hates it. For example, if I gave you the Merriam Webster’s definition of divorce, the action or instance of legally dissolving a marriage , more than likely you'll find that definition insufficient. If you are divorced or your parents are divorced, you know that definition lacks depth and substance. It’s like a survivor of a devastating hurricane describing his experience as “I witnessed a tropical cyclone with winds of 156 mph that was accompanied by heavy rain thunder and lightning.” You know that surviving a category 5 hurricane is bit more involved than announcing a weather report. (Ask anyone who survived Hurricane Katrina.) And yet every survivor’s story is unique and personal. I especially believe we don’t get what divorce does to our children. I’m not saying that I completely understand it either. I’ve never been divorced, (not even close), but I do know how it affected me as a kid. ...
6 comments
Read more

Eulogy (part 2)

My father never found his kingdom on earth. The multimillion dollar inheritance that he often spoke of with such hope and promise would never be realized. That two dollars and fifty cents? I still have it today. When I first discovered in his wallet, among his belongings, I wept. Such a proud and successful man should never die with so little. I now keep it among my prize possessions in honor of what my father did leave me. He left me with something greater than a kingdom on earth. He left me with a desire and a passion to be the father that he couldn’t be with me. He left me with a thirst for love and family. In the end when I think of my father, a number descriptions come to mind: bold, passionate, angry, driven. But I know that he loved me best way he could. In his own way, everything he did was for me. The way he lived his life and even the way he died. His cause of death was congested heart failure. Indeed my father had so much on his heart th...
Post a Comment
Read more

whatever

when you notice me do you really know it's me cause i'm a be what i'm supposed to be whether your near or not that close to me fact is, i really don't practice this and i can careless how black this is you can't charge me like paying taxes and turn around and ask me to act like this drag your feet, slur your speech grab your crotch before you teach i understand that's some of the things you see but what does that have to do with me seriously...like, i wanna know how many brothers do you know not all of us are quick, some are slow some, like me, say "four" some brothers say "fo" just because i say "for" don't make me no better i just know how to dress for the weather whether i need to be direct or clever if i'm still not black enough...whatever
2 comments
Read more