What You Won't Do For Love

             

   The telephone chimed.  I scurried to reach my bedroom before it stopped ringing.  On the other end of the line was the familiar lyrical voice of my daughter.  Though she is nearly twenty-seven years of age, she sounds more like a character from Pixar’s Toy Story than a grown woman.

 “Mommy, did you know that the man that sings What You Won’t Do for Love is white?”  I could barely stifle the roar of laughter welling up from my belly! “Yes dear, Bobby Caldwell is white.” Her excited tone lingered through the rest of the conversation.  “He has so much soul.”  She giggled.  I deliberated, “Hmmm, a lot of soul. “  Too bad some people are devoid of soul.  My meaning of the word was a bit dissimilar to the denotation that labels Rhythm and Blues artists.

I speak specifically to women.  However, I apply this question to the male counterparts as well.  How many people have encountered someone that did not present themselves to have a conscience?  I took a break from spreading the sheet on my pillow top mattress, sat down, and further ruminated on the words that Bobby Caldwell crooned thirty-five years ago, “In my world, only you make me do for love what I would not do.”  How many darned times have I done things for love that I ordinarily would not have done? Geez!

I ask, how many dinners were purchased and/or prepared?  How many times was laundry done, houses cleaned and other people’s kids transported?  The outcome resulted in being dissed and dismissed by the person you loved, with the words, “I am over it! Too bad you aren't” 

I speak not only of so-called romantic relationships, I speak of relationships with people who have grinned in your face, ate in your kitchen and listened to your secrets.  What exactly would most of us do for love, what we would not do if we truly loved ourselves?  Are we truly socialized to love ourselves without being selfish and hedonistic? Or are we so codependent and needy that we become blind to who some people really are? Remember the group Guy? It's just a fantasy.  Image in a magazine!

What does a person do for love when they don’t know how to create boundaries that could potentially strangle the life out of them? I am curious to know, just how many of us have allowed ourselves to be so enamored by another individual that we lost focus our own being?  The interesting twist in that story is that the person that we enveloped our lives with ended up disappointing and injuring our souls to the core.

                What does one do for love that they ordinarily would not do?   I invite the enlightenment.

Changing the Face of the Season

I managed, by the grace of God to get through one of the most difficult months of the year for me, November.  Yesterday marked the eighth year since I said goodbye to my youngest son.  I recall that day being the darkest I have ever experienced.  I don’t recall what my emotions were during his four hour long home going service, but I do recall the final moment as they lowered my baby into the ground and I stood there paralyzed with grief. My first inclination was to jump in behind the dark cooper colored box that held one of the most precious people in my life.

Thank God for December!  Now can we get past this commercialized mess we have come to call the holiday season already?  We go into debt for one day, to buy toys for kids that they will either break, or lose by December 30^th!  Afterward we don’t speak to the people that we grin at and tell lies to until next year.  Yes, I said it!  I am a bit ticked, as people seem to neglect what this season is about. 

I think about all of the parents who are grieving because they no longer have their babies, and Christmas is not this grand thing that the television commercials portray.  I think of a friend of mine who lost her son last year, just before Christmas.  I texted her on Thanksgiving Day to ask how she was doing.  She’d spent the day in bed.  It seems that some people, even some who understand the pain of losing a child don’t get her depression.  I get it.  This woman buried her baby two days after Christmas!  Her situation got the cogs in my little brain working.

I have to change the face of the next holiday season!   I am going to make sure that I can remember my baby by defining what he was about.  He was a sweet and easy child to rear.  That indicates compassion.  He was intelligent beyond his years, which indicates business savvy, and he was wiser than older people I know.  I have to change not only the face of the holidays for myself, but for others who have suffered horrible loses during the holiday season.

According to USA Today and Psychology Today, it is a myth the suicides increase during the holiday season.  Okay, who is arguing?  What I know firsthand is that holidays, birthdays and anniversaries are particularly difficult when one has lost a child to homicide or suicide.  This is not to suggest that it is not hard losing loved ones to illness, but a child being murdered represents a different type of loss.  Believe me, I almost lost two  sons in one day!!

I will continue my research of people who have lost their children and the affects over a period of years.  I consistently experience certain silent critiques because I am brave enough to explore and reveal my pain though it has been years since El’s transition.  Why are we so phony in this society?  Another question for another day.  I digress, I must change how people are able to handle the holidays by showing them the compassion, intelligence and wisdom that my baby boy had. 

There is a lot of work to be done, and a lot of love to share with those who feel as hopeless as I have felt for years after my son’s demise.  At times grief lingers because I have a remaining son that suffers.  There remains a far-reaching residual effect that murder has had on families.  For this reason, I must make sure that my son’s dreams are fulfilled in a positive way.

To hell with what naysayers think about me…Everything I do from this point is about helping someone who cannot get up by themselves to heal. That is what El would want.   Son, I am on it!

Zuhura Speaks: Collateral Damage

Zuhura Speaks: Collateral Damage:                 According to the USAF Intelligence Targeting Guide Pamphlet, the term Collateral Damage refers to damage affecting unint...

Collateral Damage

                According to the USAF Intelligence Targeting Guide Pamphlet, the term Collateral Damage refers to damage affecting unintended targets during a raid or military strike.  It is interesting that people can be hurt in “friendly fire”. 

                Hmmmm, friendly fire….What exactly does that mean?  I reflect on a conversation with a close associate of mine.  He seemed to feel that I should be over the last relationship that I encountered.  Is this idea an absolute fact?  Should I be over it?  I guess I should be over my son’s death also, seeing that it will be eight years this Tuesday since his transcendence.

                Quite frankly, I am not interested in what he or anyone else thinks about what I should or should not feel.  I am way past the point that I give a hot flip about someone expecting me to be what they wish me to be.  My truth surrounds the myriad of feelings associated with the existential realities pervading my mind.

                Today was my only biological daughter’s Bridal Shower.   (Other youngsters call me Momma V) The occasion was saturated with exuberant laughter.   As I examined the décor for the perfection that I knew my Diva Daughter would expect, there was a hollow call in my soul.  My last child soon be the wife of someone, and lead her own life without me.  It’s normal for young people to expand their wings and fly away.  That is the logical me speaking.  The emotional me, is not so absolute.

                Earlier this morning my dear friend told me of the sad passing of a friend of hers from a painful bout with cancer.  How ironic that I’d met this person a couple of years back. The memory of our encounter made me think of the night I unassumingly ended up at her house.  She was closely associated with the ex-wife of the man I was dating at the time.  Needless, to say, I was bombarded with inquiries and comments about the relationship.

                The relationship did not last.  It was one of those situations where I became the unintended target of collateral damage.  November is generally a month that I remember the pain that losing my son caused.  Ironically, it was the on the anniversary of my son’s transition that this man first kissed me.  I would imagine that this is the reason that the flood of emotion washed over my soul after I heard of this lady’s transition. There were also other issues impairing my ability to clearly rationalize my feelings.

                I think of all of the collateral damage I have suffered in my lifetime.  I had become an unassuming target of a man that does not possess the ability to love or care about a woman of my caliber.  Am I suggesting that he’d never loved other amazing people?  No, clearly, I have no right to judge anything not associated with me.  Though the signs that he did could not love, or return the exuberance of the love I felt were clearly there, I ignored them.

                Hadn’t he felt something for me? Hadn’t we possessed a keys to one another’s houses and driven each other’s’ cars?  Hadn’t I attended events with families and friends?    Yet, if I were to enumerate all of the times that I felt dismissed and disconnected by something that he’d done to exclude me or ignore my inquiries of why he could never utter those three words,   I would be counting until next spring.  I felt left out of the world that validated our relationship. 

One illustration of his distance was experienced when I cleaned this man’s entire house in preparation for his children to visit him for the holiday season.  When it came to making it clear to them that I was someone he cared deeply about, it did not occur.  Not only did he not include me in a family outing with them, his daughter was rude and disrespectful to me. When I shared my feelings about her behavior, he scolded me!

Another incident occurred when one of his college friends made an incredibly insensitive remark that hurt my feelings, “You have found someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with, and he hasn’t!”   Though I wanted to choke this woman at the time, she was entirely correct.  I chose to ignore the signs, as I was determined to show him how much he was adored by me. Codependent or not, I am not into labels, but suffice it to say that I honestly did not see his disconnection as faulty, and I should have.  But what does should do for anyone?

My unwillingness to smell the proverbial pot of coffee that was brewing caused me a great deal of pain.  I had given my heart to this man for over three years. He abruptly ended our relationship. Perhaps I should have gotten the message when the man visited his ex-wife’s house and stayed there a week, turning off his mobile phone when I called.  The only time he spoke to me during his travels, was when he walked to the store to get a paper.   And I was the one who initiated the call!

                I became the target of attacks on social media pages and on my personal email.  The collateral damage was to my heart, as he took every ounce of goodness that I gave him.  He tolerated who I am, instead of celebrating who I am becoming.  At the end of my delusion, the only explanation I got was, “I tried, and I can’t do a relationship.”  Wow, is that all I get?

                This week is an emotional one.   As I aforementioned, November brings with it a lot of sensitivities. The worse day of my life happened in November!!  My dear Grandmother’s birthday is this week.  My close associate lost his daughter to a cold-hearted murderer who was sentenced to prison this week.  Thanksgiving is coming, and I have to admit, I do not feel that grateful!

                There is a moral to these dark set of circumstances, hang in there with me.  Next year I am planning to launch a project that will help families who have lost their loved ones near the holiday season.  I won’t exclude anyone else, but they will be my target group.  

I know the loneliness s and despondency associated with the holidays.  I hope to utilize the pain I feel/felt as a catalyst to help someone else heal from the vestiges of the collateral damage. We live in a world of thoughtless and careless people.  If I reach out to one person and/or family, some other unintended target may escape the identical harm that I and my family have experienced.

 

 

 

 

A Grandmother's Love

The recurrence Daylight Savings time has interrupted my pattern of sleep.  I sit here reveling in the fact, “There is nothing sweeter than the love of  my Grandsons!  This was evidenced by a phone call that I received at nearly ten o clock last night.  It was my youngest Grandson, Obama.  Yes, he is named after the first Black President!

grandson - Obama

                My heart dances when I recall the bond that I had with my Grandmother.  I affectionately called her Momma.  I have so many wonderful memories installed in my psyche and in my heart by this extraordinary woman. 

                November eighteenth will mark her birthday, the day before my son’s transition.  I know that they will be dancing together that day.  I try to wrap my mind around the fact that they are both not here with me in the sphere.  However, they live indelibly inside of me!

                The corners of my mouth turn up as I think of the evening, at eleven years of age that I asked the Lord to at least allow me to grow up and see my children.   The idea that the world was a wicked place, and the world would soon end,  had been drummed into my thinking so much so that I did not believe I’d grow up.  But here I am, a Grandmother.

                I am grateful and I offer thanks to the Creator for exceeding my expectations of maturation.  I have had the enormous pleasure not only of being called Mommy, but now I am known as Nama.  My heart leaps each time I hear the singsong manner in which my three Grandbabies call to me.

grandson - TRay

Larrie Noble, III, (TRay) is my eldest Grandson.  He is the exact visual replica of my dear son Elliott.  However, he acts like his Dad.  I chuckle each time my son Larrie laments that TRay is “Just like me.” I can only state in text language, ROTF….I am rolling on the floor because my eldest son was born so that I would pray, and he is definitely reaping in theory!

grandson - El

Then there is Elliott, (Little El) as he is called.  He does not favor any of our side of the family, barring his Grandfather’s exact birthmark, and my Grandma’s goofy smile.  He is just as his Uncle El was; basically quiet, with a calmer temperament than his two brothers have. 

                What can I say about Obama? (Mr. President)  He must be Richard Pryor reincarnated.  My Grandsons are the absolute joy of my heart!  I am hopeful that they will have the same wonderful memories of me that I have of my Grandmother Annie Lee Riley Ainsworth. 

                There was no safer place that I had, than in her loving arms.  Thank you Momma.  I pray that I can be a fraction of the inspiration to my Grandchildren that you were to me.  Dance with El Momma.  I will see you both soon enough!

Don't Let It Be About Me

Larrie R. Noble Jr. and Elliott Jemar Noble (8.19.1985-11.19.2005)



I’d just arrived at the office.  Much to my surprise, I lifted the receiver of the telephone to call my second ex-husband.  I hadn’t spoken to him for two years, and that was merely because he’d called to tell me Happy Birthday.   As I dialed the number, I pondered the quote that I thought was ludicrous the night of my son’s murder November 19, 2005. He lamented, “God don’t let this be about me.” How the heck could something like a drive by shooter rolling up to my childrens’ vehicle fatally wounding one, and maiming the other be about him.

It had strictly been the worst night of my life.  Though the eminent pain of losing a child remains with me, it isn’t as grim as it has been in the past.  To be certain, I am reminded in some form daily, of my baby boy’s demise.  There is a deep pain that resonates with me each time I hear of another youthful flame extinguished by means of gunfire.

I grieve for my son every day.  I have been ridiculed for what some consider prolonged and complicated grief.  The truth is, I don’t grief for Eliiott, as much as I did initially and subsequent to his transition to heaven.  I grief more for the child that remains, his brother Larrie.  I grief because I feel his pain.  I could never imagine what it must have been like for him to experience the remnants of his brother’s brain splattered on him. He lost his left eye and so much of his soul.  It hurts to see the results of his anguish.

At thirty years of age, he’s still my baby.  His struggles make it difficult for me to face him at times.  I reflect on the what my ex affirmed.  Hmmm, has any of it been about me?  Did I blame him for insisting that his baby brother go with him that fateful day?  Did I blame myself for moving my children into a ‘hood’ that would ultimately contribute to them becoming involved in a life that I did not envision for them?  Afterall, a parent can only influence their children so much.

There I sat as the phone chimed.  I prepared to leave a message.  I was surprised when the familiar inane sound of his voice answered. “Hello.” I called his name, but I won’t do that here.  He imitated me with an animated cartoon voice.  I laughed.  Just as I was about to clarify the reason for my call, a female voice chimed in.  It appeared to be a ploy to stake her claim.  She did not have to worry about marking her territory.  I was not the moth drawn back to the fire.

After I hung up, I ruminated once again, “Was my son’s death about me?”  If it was not about me, then who was it about?  Was it about the baby sister that he’d left behind, months after her high school graduation?  Was it about the divorce after twenty-five long and tedious years of faux partnership?  There were so many questions of who to hold responsible. The truth is, it is the fault of the sinful and moraless person who felt the need to pull a trigger and change my family’s life eternally.

There have been so many times in which regret has rocked the very foundation of my life. After eight years, I realize that my life can not be about my son’s death.  Prior to him leaving me, my sweet baby boy, my life was engulfed by my work as a Social Worker and Activist.  I’d lived through losing my nephew, his first cousin.  I’d survived the loss of my anchor, my Grandmother, but it is still not about me.

Elliott Jemar Noble lived and completed his task is this life after only twenty years.  It’s my turn, though I have outlasted his existence, to make his demise and the demise of so many young folks in my community matter.   Last Sunday I heard my Pastor lament that we all need to become outraged about the murders in our streets.   As the motto of our street ministry Soldiers Against Violence Everywhere (S.A.V.E.) poignantly states, we have got to “Say Something!”

I am finally strong enough do just that!  I am using these blogs and completing my book and other avenues so that I can “Say Something.”   I know for sure, it ain’t all about me!

Yours Endearingly,

Zuhura

Do It

                I like Joel Osteen.  Call him a motivational speaker of whatever you like, but he makes total sense to me.  His message entitled, “Just Do It” resonates in my mind.  What is it that I have been afraid to do? Fear is not of God.  If that is the case, why am I fear?

                According to the American Association of Psychologists (APA), a therapist is not supposed to disclose information to their clients.  Okay, you all aren’t my clients.  At least, I don’t think my clients are reading this post.  If any are, oh well.  I have to follow what my heart is saying.  I have to do what Nike and Joel said, I have to “Just Do It.”

                What is it you ask?  It is to let go of the frailties and inhibitions that I have as a human being, and be real.  To do what Dr. Brene Brown states I her book, to dare greatly.   It takes a lot of guts to open up when you have been scorned by people that you have trusted.  I get it.  Why do you think that I am writing this entry?

                An advanced degree in Counseling Psychology does not remedy the fear of opening up and being vulnerable to others.  I have likened vulnerability and being transparent to running down the street naked.  Running nude exposed to outdoor elements can make one ill, in addition to a probable seventy-three hour retreat in a psychiatric facility!

                I am met with trepidation each time I have to open the safe and sacred heart space, especially after the challenge of betrayal.  What is more daunting is allowing other people the benefit of being human, to be as afraid as I have been.  I am not ashamed to say that this proposition is difficult to say the least.

                I was recently challenged by a group of women that I felt judged and ridiculed me falsely.  It hurt me to my heart!  I trusted these women as sisters.  I was disappointed and bewildered when I figured out that each of them had the same issue with me that they made collectively problematic.  I was met with a challenge due to a simple difference of opinion.  Rather than talk to me, they spoke amongst each other pertaining to what they “thought I believed myself to be superior to them. None of which was true.  I will admit it, I was quite defensive, and for a while I withdrew to “lick my wounds” and heal.  Did I say that it’s okay to re-group when needed?

  I am a truth-teller, a straight shooter.  Often denial is so pervasive that people don’t even realize that they are pretentious and withholding the blessing of vulnerability.  I reiterate; it is petrifying to expose one’s true self.  This is why I advocate that intent be communicated effectively.  Often communication becomes faulty when people have formed their own opinions before they are aware of the genuine motives of others.  (This includes M-E!) I urge you to search yourself the next time you judge the intent of another person.  As cliché as this may sound, perception is not always reality.

                I challenge myself to have the courage to get up after a fall.  I will admit it’s no picnic to get back into the saddle after the horse throws you off its back!  I want to sit at home in the dark, with a blue light, and a bag of Lays Potato Chips and pout.  I want to tell the world to go to hell and what to do when they get there.  I want to give up.  I want to quit.  Yes, I want to throw in the towel, take my toys and run!  But I can’t. I have to “do” what I have urged you all to do.

                I have to do what I fear the most. I am that professional and human being all at once.  I am that mother and that child.  I am that Christian and challenged not to be so Christian.  I have to smile when a frown is seems a more superior expression.  I am all things to all people as I read of the Apostle Paul.  The good that I would do, evil is always present.  Therefore, I search my heart and I dust my rusty off and get up again.  I don’t always feel like it…but I have to do it!  Is there another choice?

               

               

 

 

Taaaaarget Practice!

                Have you ever felt as if God was using your life for target practice? I have to admit that I did not coin the phrase, Taaarget Practice!  I actually heard it in a cartoon years ago.   I believe it was a Looney Tunes character, maybe Bugs Bunny.  I digress….

                When God tapped me on the shoulder to write my entry this earrrly morning, the film Joyful Noise was in the background. I know, I know, I should not sleep with the television on, but bear with me! 

                During a segment of the film, Dolly Pardon was singing a melodic duet with a young man.  I forget his name. “From Here to the Moon and Back.”  Wow!  I know a few women who wish that someone would love them in that magnanimous proportion!  Besides, God I mean….

                Another scene in the movie depicted Queen Latifah talking to a young man that seemed to have lost his spunk.  “I think that lately God has been using me for target practice.” He lamented.  After a few inspiring words, he was able to “get the Spirit” back in the choir’s performance.  The cogs in my heart space starting churning.  I thought, “Love and support helps add balm to the darts that we all experience at times.

I thought of my oldest child and the first time I saw his sweet little face on January 1, 1983.  It seems like a lifetime ago.  I thought of the day that I brought him to the hospital to see his baby brother.  He took one look at the tiny bundle in my arms that he seemed to think would replace him, “He’s cute.  Can we leave him here?”  He was only two and a half.  Who was this stranger in his Mommy’s arms? A warm, fond smile washes across my face as I envision that precious moment.

Then the finale arrived with Little Miss Thing.   She was the last of the Mohican's.  I recall the boys unwittingly pulling her petite arms from either side, “My Sistah!”  I had to intervene so that the boys would not unintentionally sever their baby sister’s limbs.  I would lovingly cuddle the three of them and say, “She belongs to you both.” Such beautiful memories….and then the darts and arrows emerged.

I suspect that I am not the only person that incurred war wounds in life’s battle.  I will likely mention my son’s murder throughout my posts.  Bear with me; it’s a healing balm for me to finally tell the story.  I do not tell the story for sympathy…no way!  I tell it to heal myself, and to heal someone else who may be feeling the pain and devastation that losing a child can bring.

Yes, I thought that God was using me for target practice!  It seemed that everything imaginable went wrong in my life for years!  For eight years after my son’s ascent to heaven, the storm recurrently raged.  I supplicated God.  I begged for forgiveness for any sin I may had committed.  I cried.  I toiled.  Nothing appeared to lessen the blows of the fiery darts protruding my soul.

I did everything that I knew how to do in my marriage.  I still ended after twenty-five years.  I did everything that I had learned as a mother.  My sons were still caught up in a drive by shooting, fatally wounding one and maiming the other for life!  I went the right directions with education.  There was no resolve to the flying arrows that hit my life.  I know now that those arrows were sent my way so that I could feel the pain of piercing much like Christ felt on the cross.  I am not preaching…I’m just sayin’.

Every arrow and every dart that seemed aimed at me became lessons that I have learned.  Every time I cannot talk to or hold my son again, is a time that I must hold another parent who feels anguish when their child is struck down.  It is a war zone here in the Bay Area and all over the nation.  I am from Chicago, murder capital last year.  I live near Oakland, California.  God help us!

My message is clear.  Life brings darts.  But that does not mean that God is using us for target practice.  I urge you today…find someone who is going through a little something, and lift them up.  Depression is rampant in our society.  There are so many negative influences happening all around us.

I encourage you; find someone to help today besides yourself.  Take time for someone else’s edification and restoration for a change.  Assist another lonely or melancholy spirit in dodging a few of the darts that impede all of our live at times.  Love others who need it, as the lyrics to the song states, “From Here to the Moon and Back.”

Yours,

Zuhura

 

 

Is the Joke on Me?

 

 

Zuhura Noble Speaking At a Peace March

Oakland, CA. 2002

 



  

           The silence of the morning is the time in which Spirit speaks the loudest.  I attempted to interrupt the sleep disorder that I have battled with since my son's murder, November 19, 2005.  Needless to say, I did not succeed today.  Perhaps tomorrow will be more successful.

            The end of the movie, The Family Man was at its end when I rolled over the twin size mattress in the middle of my living room floor. I fumbled around for a moment to locate the remote control.  As I adjusted the channel, Spirit spoke deep within me, "Turn to the recordings section on your DVR."  I instinctively obeyed.

            Before all of my Christian constituents begin to question why I have referred to Spirit rather than God.  I convey  that the sentiment SPIRIT that is ALL encompassing.  Therefore it is God.  I have to clarify this not only for an explanation to my readers, but to myself as well.  You see, as I reflect on the seasons of my childhood, teen and young adult life, they do not appear eloquent or ecstatic.  As a matter of fact, those years were filled with turmoil.  ONLY and omniscient, omnipresent being could have helped me thrive following the life I’d endured.

            As I scrolled down the recordings list to discover the OWN (Oprah Winfrey Network) program,  I noticed The Best of the Oprah Show.  “Are You Listening to Your Life?”  The show featured Tyler Perry, among others who learned to listen to what their life was telling them about their divine purpose.  I frequently watch the network, as it provides a connection to deeper thought more than most programming these days.  Oops, did I mention that’s it’s a tad different than Basketball Wives? 

            Tyler spoke of the cathartic effect that his writing has had on millions of people.  He also spoke of the healing that took place in his life when he confronted his abuser.  Unfortunately that abuse derived from the person who planted his human seed.  He spoke of how forgiveness transformed him, allowing him to freely express his artistry. I thought to myself, “I want to experience the same transformation, but how can I do that?”  Following my son’s murder, I nearly folded into a cocoon and never emerged.  I will admit it has taken me some time to re-group.  What I had not realized is the fact that life can hit us all with curve balls that we find difficult to rebound from.

            A person can lie to themselves all they want to.  There are some things that simply blindside you like an out of control vehicle careens off a slippery road.  You are left bleeding like an animal that has been struck in the abyss of a winding road.  I thought of the many times in my life that has felt out of control.  If the truth is told, I continue to battle the vicissitudes of existing on this planet.

            I know you may be wondering what this has to do with the joke being on me, or on you for that matter.  Often I thought that my intelligence and wit would help to avoid painful circumstances.  What I’ve actually discovered was, I am not in control of ANYTHING or ANYBODY but Venus Zuhura Noble! (I was not born with the surname Noble, but like Tina Turner, I earned the name!  I worked too hard for it. ---Another post for another time)

            I thought of the cruelty of child abuse and molestation.  I thought about motherhood and the attempt to achieve an education while raising young children.  I thought of being emotionally abandoned by a man who fathered children.  I thought of the gunshot wounds that kill so many of the Black and Latino youth in our community.  Finally, I thought of being left emotionally destitute by someone that is deeply embraced.  All of which have occurred in my life.  If the joke was not on me, then who was it on? After all, hadn't I made foolish choices that caused irreparable damage

to myself and sometimes others? Hadn't that careening car hit me?

 

            As I continued to listen to the program, I pressed rewind several times to get the essence of the message.  Life is speaking to me.  That is one of the reasons that I am writing this post during the wee hours of the morning.  What is my life really trying to tell me?  The inspiration to follow the passion of becoming a successful, bestselling author is not out of my reach.  I need only to listen inwardly to grasp it.  My life didn’t end when I turned fifty, it has only just begun, but I have to listen. I urge you to listen.  What are the trials and tribulations of this life telling you?

            The lyrics of the old school tune sang by the Cascades, Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain.”  came to mind.  Certainly rain has fallen in my life, and I saw it a cruel joke that someone had played on me.  I neglected the fact that the rain falls upon the just and the unjust alike.  I have to take my life by the reigns regardless to the wild rides I have experienced.

            Allow me to encourage the hearts of people who suffer from the vestiges of depression, low self-worth, codependence, and the effects of crazy parents or poverty….Shhh….listen!  Your life is speaking to you and as it is said in urban vernacular, “It ain’t a joke” when pain strikes and knocks you sideways!  It can feel as though all hope is gone, and you will not survive the storm. But you will not only survive, you will learn to thrive and be at peace if you know that there is a greater purpose for your pain.  Hush!  Listen!

            Take courage people.  Listen to Zuhura speak!  There is always another side to through.  Life can make each of us feel as though some cruel and unpleasant prank has been played on us.  Let me encourage you to do what I know for sure will work!  Look the issues you have in the face!  Stop looking outside of yourself for definition and nurture.  Stop pointing your finger at others, making someone else responsible for how you feel and behave. ONLY you and that all-encompassing Spirit will pick you up when you fall down!

            This is in no way to suggest that we do not need the helping hand of others from time to time.  We are communal beings and emotional support is as life sustaining as blood is to the body.  However, we must be quiet and go within to find the core issues that have affected our behaviors.  No one wants to look within, as it is too painful at times. But try it, and listen as you sort through emotional rubble.

            I beseech you, dig deep.  Listen for any hollowness in your spirits.  Certainly there are some of us who were born to alcoholics, abusers, hustlers etc.  Some were not.  Many people simply did not get the love and affirmation that they needed, stunting their growth and internal locus of control.  The majority of our society has issues that are hard to face.  I know that I do!  Don’t let the joke be on you!  Face it. Erase it. Grow from here!   Now, that ain’t no joke!

~Eternally Yours,

Zuhura

 

           

           

           

 

           

   



 

   







The Metamorphosis

  Birthdays come and go! However, there is something monumental when one reaches the magic number fifty.  The fleshly folly of youth unfolds as an exquisite butterfly emerges from the cocoon that it has been incubated in for a season. 

Can You find me in the photo?

The Balancing Act

Have you ever wondered how the circus performers who spin plates on a stick keep them balanced?
Does it always feel like your life has you off balance? What about the people in your life?
Here are some of my lessons on balance.

Lessons from My First 50

Being 50 should bring with it wisdom.  I would like to share some key lessons I have learned along the way. Here are 50 thoughts on 50 years:

1. Faith is a relationship, not a practice.
2. Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart and lean NOT to your own understanding~ Proverbs 3:5-6.
3. No mother should bury a child!
4. I can cry when I feel like crying-Darn it!
5. I matter.
6. Watch out for grown women who act like Mean Girls.
7. Your Daughter will model who you are and become a carbon copy.
8. Confidants are a rare find.
9. Beware of people who believe that their lives are somehow more important than yours.
10. Be careful what you say about other people's situations.  You may find yourself in the same space one day.
11. Journal Daily....it relieves tension!
12. The First half of life is to figure out who the heck you are.
13. NEVER, and I do mean NEVER make someone a priority that makes you an option!!
14. Don't give parties for anyone other than your husband.
15. Pay attention to the red flags when they wave.  YOU ARE NOT BLIND!!
16. When someone shows you who they are the FIRST time, BELIEVE THEM! ~ Oprah and Dr. Maya Angelou.
17. Hot Flashes Happen!
18. Age does not make you beautiful-Your spirit does.
19. Age does not make you ugly-Your spirit does.
20. Leave something to the imagination.
21. Be a mystery to a man and he'll respect you more.
22. Passive Aggressive people make me itch!
23. Don't allow the labels of other people to stick.
24. Rolling up in a velour blanket on the couch, watching Sex and the City re-runs is Self-care.
25. An unexamined life is not worth living~ Socrates.
26. IF you want what I have, do what I did to get it!
27. Should another persons behavior bother you...question yourself.
28. Beauty is skin Deep!  Ugly is to the marrow!
29. Depression is typical...pay attention to it.
30. Stress will kill you!
31. Sometimes it's good to simply STOP!
32. If I knew that being a Grandmother was so great, I would have had them before I had kids!
33. Get over yourself quickly!
34. Get over other people quickly.
35. It's okay to be philosophical if there is something in your head.
36. Don't just hang on-Zip line!
37. READ! READ!
38. Don't spend money on people who do not appreciate your presence.
39. There are some people who believe that they are entitled-They are delusional.
40. Don't "Dumb Down" to make someone else feel intelligent.
41. If you can get over me in ten minutes, I can return the favor.
42. Take a break between relationships--Pause!
43. Psychotherapy does not mean you are crazy!
44. Preachers belong in pulpits, not on pedestals.
45. Becoming the change you want to see isn't easy!
46. I am okay on my OWN.
47. Fifty and Beyond is fabulous!
48. If acceptance is a key factor of losing yourself....ditch acceptance.
49. Take a deep cleansing breath several times per day.
50. Learning to LET GO is not as easy as it sounds...but keep trying.