Ignite it.

Even if it is unhealthy,

With great risks too,

I still want it.

Let me be consumed by you.

Let's set me ablaze.

Watch my walls burn down.

Let's open me up.

Please stake whatever's found.

Enter my world;

Change it for good.

Make your presence felt

Like no one before you could.

I'll adore your every impression

On my mind,

Heart,

Being.

I will barter dependence

For the liberty of needing

You.

Mom & Me & Mom I

Last night, my mom and I had a disagreement that turned into a fiery argument. While we used to bump heads in this way frequently, it hasn't happened in a long time. Last night, my mom took some time, called me back, apologized, and validated my experience. I woke up this morning thinking about my Mom and reflecting on our contrasting perspectives and needs.

In order for my Mom to not have bitterness, resentment, and anger, she doesn't sit with or in hurt feelings. She acknowledges the hurtful nature of ______, and she resolves to let it go. l sit with and in hurt feelings. When I don't, I confuse hurt with anger, and I become bitter and resentful. I acknowledge the hurtful nature of ______, and I permit myself to hold on.

Yesterday I called my mom incensed about ______. My feelings were hurt; I wanted to vent. I felt that she did not understand and judged my emotional reaction to the situation. We then began to debate our responses to hurt feelings. She provided one of her life experiences and her response to that experience, and I said, That's not normal. That is not a normal response, Mama.

I said it in exasperation, but I've thought it for years. In fact, my dad and I often charge my Mom with being "love-suffering," and we don't mean it as a compliment. We sort of roll our eyes and take long, deep exhales. This morning, I woke up thinking long-suffering is not the right word. My mom is radical in forgiveness, and it bugs the shit out of me. "Look at her. She should be pissed at ______ for ______. I know I would. I would NEVER..."

It occurs to me only now that my Mom, with her exact life experiences and challenges, would be a different person if she did not protect her heart, kindness, and ability to be gentle with forgiveness and release. It also occurred to me that my Mom is exactly the kind of woman who intimately understands what it means to need mercy, and she is one of the most merciful people I know.

These qualities that I witnessed and judged her for sharing with others allowed me to bring her a plethora of experiences, intimacies, and secrets that I would have never shared if I didn't understand her deep capacity for mercy and forgiveness. I knew she would neither write me off nor devalue me. She'll love me rather I become "a hoe or housewife." 

My Mom is the most faith affirming person in my life, and it has little to do with what she believes or preaches. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.  Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. I experience the love, grace, and mercy I've read about in the Bible in my relationship with her. 

Who am I, comfortably distant from the life experiences and traumas my Mom has experienced, to say "Your choice to let go; refusal to sit with that pain; decision to forgive and show grace and mercy is not normal?" Maybe her capacity to forgive is directly related to her depth of pain, and I don't understand because I don't know. 

You never really understand a person until you consider things from her point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it. I owe my Mom an apology. Yesterday, when she called me back, she held space for me. Today, I will hold space for her. 

Quick Note: I also realize that both of our methods (holding on too long or letting go too quickly) have dangers that we must be quick to recognize and careful to avoid.   

His mind won't roam.

His mind won't roam from his future wife

to that once upon a time in life

when he knew a girl like me.

No, his mind won't roam.

He will judge the details

too provocative to expose.

He will not recount my ecstasies and woes.

No, his mind won't roam.

My hope is that he won't remember me at all

and I'll be a "What's her name?"

he is never able to recall.

So...

“Honorable Human Relationships" - Adrienne Rich

An honorable human relationship—that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word “love”—is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other. 

It is important to do this because it breaks down human self-delusion and isolation. 

It is important to do this because in doing so we do justice to our own complexity.

It is important to do this because we can count on so few people to go that hard way with us.

Individual Pain & Collective Healing

I've hurt. Everyone has. We have all experienced some degree of physical pain.

I once subjected myself to an experience meant to cause physical pain. My legs shook. My face tingled. I felt hot all over. I neither cried nor howled; I did not lose conciousness. I just felt that voluntary pain for a prescribed moment in time. Then it was over. It was passing.

Beyond that one experience, to date, thank goodness, I have never experienced a physical pain powerful enough to provoke an extreme reaction. I may hurt for a particular moment in time to a finite degree. Then it's over. It is always passing.

My experience with emotional pain is so incredibly different that it's almost amusing. I have felt emotional pain that left me reeling for days, weeks, months on end. I know it when it's sharp, chronic, and exacerbated. I have experienced emotional pain that took the sun out of the sky, did away with the stars and moon, and made hope and better seem like fairy-tale intangibles. Recovery was make-believe.

Yes, I know emotional pain provocative enough to cause wailing. I cried myself to sleep. I sobbed while bargaining with God. "Can this be over? I don't want to feel again." I cursed morning when it came. I cursed the chemical composition of my brain. I mourned life and breath. In the darkest hours, I contemplated the relief of death; on more than one occasion I became a threat to myself. 

I've hurt enough to know that pain is subjective. It's not easily measured and varies based on perspectives. Yes, we all know what it's like to experience pain, but no two experiences are the same. Maybe generosity includes offerings of acknowledgement and compassion for the singularity of every experience, each other's unique and valuable feelings. Maybe this is integral to our collective healing.

Solo

Their conversations aid

Relaxation and stimulation.

Her imagination

Leads to saturation.

Disregarding the isolation,

She drifts to their next encounter.

Her fingers dive downward

Underwater and underwear.

With pleasure,

She's there.

She is solo.

Solo

Solo

With imagination

Her fingers are so low.

So low

So low...

Perspective Shifts: Humility & Love

This morning I asked for humility as I was reminded that it is a bridge to greater compassion, empathy, and understanding. I had an opportunity to check my own arrogance and pride, and the awareness of my lack of humility, in and of itself, was humbling.

The voice in my mind (the one I should listen to) reminded me of the hypocrisy of measuring arrogance in others and being inept at gauging my own. Moreover, it reminded me I have no business appraising others. It is far too easy to overvalue oneself and undervalue others and vice versa. This is problematic at best and detrimental at worst.

If your heart's desire is to really love others and exemplify kindness, you have to be able to recognize everyone's intrinsic worth. For those who are gifted with balance, this is likely automatic. For the rest of us, however, checking egocentrism has to be a regular, conscious thing. Otherwise our perceptions are skewed, and we view others (and often ourselves) from harsh, unkind lenses.

This morning the best of me said.: "It is okay to be comfortable in your station, proud of your accomplishments, and mindful of your own resilience, determination, strivings, and successes. It is not okay to use yourself a measuring stick by which you determine how others should be appreciated or depreciated."

How do I know that everyone has intrinsic, unyielding value? 

For me, the answer lies in two verses.

John 3:16:
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. KJV

And, my favorite, Romans 8:38-39
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,  Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. KJV

If others, like myself, are shrouded in the love of God in spite of any and everything, and I believe we are. Who are you to diminish me? Who am I to diminish anyone?

It just occurred to me. Maybe God's love, the immeasurable, unchanging love of the immeasurable, unchanging Creator, is the greatest equalizer.

Beautiful Forgetting

Was it April 2nd? Maybe it was April 3rd? Hmmm? Was it on a Monday or Wednesday? Honestly, I cannot remember.

As many of you may know, I was married in 2012, separated in 2015, and divorced in 2016. The time elapsed between date of divorce and present day (four plus years), is now greater than the life of the marriage itself, three plus years. Even so, all week my brain has attempted to make me remember an approaching date it once stored with significance. 

I checked my calendar multiple times to ensure I wasn't forgetting a birthday or appointment. (I am not.) I ruminated. Scratched my head. Really thought it out. What am I forgetting?

Finally, it occurred to me that I was married early in April of 2012. Or was it 2013? You all, I do not remember. It feels like that was lifetime ago. How many versions of myself have I discovered since that time? Do I still know that Kechia? Is it wrong to forget?

No. 

The answer to my last question is definitely no. 

It took me a long time to understand this, but it's okay to forget. In fact, sometimes it is preferable. Every individual and experience does not deserve lifelong mental markers and acknowledgement. Grasp the lesson and allow the minutia to slip away.

It's liberating. 

I gave myself permission to forget. More accurately, I give myself permission to forget. Forget birthdays, anniversaries, milestones,  particulars, sensations, words, actions, events, emotions, people, places, things, and any and every detail that is incompatible with healing, progression, restoration, growth, peace, and joy. 

I used to obstruct forgetting by insistent remembrance...Rehashing and rehearsing details over and over again until they were ingrained in my memories. Because there are details that unworthy of this process, rumination has the potential to be ruinous. Most importantly, I cannot allow my mental storage to reach its capacity with my history when my present and future are so deserving of room. 

My Grandma often says "We all forget." Whenever she misplaced or couldn't recall something, she'd assure herself and remind us of the normalcy of forgetting.  To that, this day, I say Amen, Grandma. Amen. Let it be so. 

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

I will not drown in my tears
Or sink in sorrow
I will not give into this fear
Or fret about tomorrow
I will not die of loneliness
Or waste away in pride
I will not grow weary of living
Or mourn being alive...
Moments are passing.
Feelings are fleeting.
They wash over me,
but I'm still here.
I'm still breathing...

The Llama and The Raccoon

Meet Kechia Llama and Steven Raccoon aka Stevie Racc. Although Stevie Racc is full of farts, sarcasm, granola, and Yogi tea; wears the same shirt year round; and happens to be a terrible driver and a tremendous pain in the ass, Kechia Llama loves him very much. Although Kechia Llama is a weirdo whose farts are louder (but less toxic) and is far left leaning on the spectrum of normal to bat shit crazy, Steven Raccoon loves her very much. Kechia Llama and Stevie Racc are different, and they have had many adventures and misadventures. Kechia Llama and Steven Raccoon are somehow still friends, and they lean on each other tenderly atop their bookshelf home. That is how they will remain. The end.

Stream of Consciousness

It is likely my own depravity activating compassion. It maybe rooted in egocentricity, but I root for your absolution. Your forgiveness is my solution to get from underneath this shame because I know that if you change, I am not required to stay the same. It's strange how I'm drawing parallels between society and self and seeing myself connected to it all. I'm neither root nor cause. I'm human, and I am trying. And, if my interpretation of the text is correct, God dwells in me although I am shaped in iniquity. My mind cannot wrap itself around this dichotomy, so it calls it hypocrisy.  Ashamed of who I was and afraid to be who I'm meant to be, I stagger in the present overwhelmed by the variety, choices upon choices. Freewill makes one ill, but freewill makes one free. To paraphrase the revolutionist, for me it's death or liberty. Am I dying? Or am I free? It depends on one's perspective, and the world is fucking gray. Everything is subjective. I'm hypothesizing, not prophesying; the words are from LeKechia, not God. But if I am His, isn't my being God's will and as intentional as the Earth herself?  If I am created in His image, haven't I been powerful since birth with purpose upon purpose? I'm certain of few things. I have more questions than answers. None of this shit is simple. I am learning to live with these intricacies. If I am too complex for my understanding, how can I expect to demystify The One who created me? 

Perspective Shifts: Time & Excuses

I left the company I have been with for most of the time I have lived here, and it was not an easy decision to make. I turned in my notice on a Monday with the intention to take a two month break. ("I deserve a break." Right?) I got a call for an interview the next day, interviewed that same day, and offered the job that same week. I could not pass up the opportunity, so I accepted the offer.

Between my last day and today, I have had time to rest, rejuvenate, and realize that I neither want nor need a break. I need to take my black ass to work. I need to worker harder than ever before because my financial, educational, physical, mental/emotional, and life goals require pushing myself to brink of exhaustion in the short-term for the execution of my long-term vision.

I am unsure if its egocentricity or self-awareness, but I always analyze my attitudes, behaviors, actions, and outcomes. When I was working two jobs, 6 to 7 days a week, I complained about "not having enough time." Reflecting on what I accomplished during this "break" with all the time in the world, I am quite ashamed of myself.

My reality is that I do not need more time. I need better time-management. I need to practice self-discipline in all areas. Essentially, I need to shit or get off the pot. I do not want to provide myself with excuses for mediocrity. I love me too much to coddle and bs myself.

When I was younger, my father would often said "no matter what you tell anyone else, keep it real with LeKechia." (I used to think "Duh! What kind of life lesson is this?" 🙄) Now, as an adult woman, I understand the importance of that  caution. It is so incredibly easy to bullshit self, and the result of bullshitting self is either regression or stagnation.

Y'all, I realized my jobs were not keeping me from the career I want, the masters degree I intend to pursue, working out, eating healthy, spending quality time with my loved ones, having a consistent sleep schedule, or anything at all. Nothing or no one has the power to stop my progress. I was making excuses.

Yes, factors beyond my control can create impositions and impedances, but that is not the same as stopping progression. The act of no longer moving in any direction is a decision. I am responsible for each and every decision I make.

Maybe I am the only one who creates excuses rather than solutions. (🤦🏿‍♀️) Maybe many of you can relate. Either way, let's do better. Either way, I have to do better. Knowing better is not enough.

Tomorrow, I start my first day with this new company. This was not my plan, but it worked out in my favor. Thank God. I am excited about the start of a new professional chapter, but more than that, I am excited about going into this chapter with a shifted perspective.

Sustenance & Substance

She consumes his intellect

Is nourished by his energy

Then feasts on his body

He's a spread within a man

And she's a glutton for him

He calls her greedy

Says it with a grin

Then makes himself available

Again and again and again

 

Just Mercy

As I am lying in my bed reflecting on the Just Mercy film, I cannot help but think about how so many lives are impacted by the criminal justice system in this country. I was thinking about Walter McMillian and how his time on death row affected him, and I could not understand my emotional response. I read the book. I know how tragically his story ended. Still, I was unprepared. Tonight's tears are for Herbert Richardson, Walter McMillian, Anthony Ray Hinton, and my own father. While my father was not sentenced to life in prison and did not spend any time on death row, he spent nine/ten years incarcerated. He went to prison at the age of nineteen sentenced to 35 years for a first offense. I don't think I ever empathized with how traumatic and life altering that experience must have been for him. Tonight, I hurt for him in a way that is wholly separate from my own experience. I have a reawakened compassion, and I am grateful for that. Please see this movie and read this book.  P.S.: This picture was taken while my father was in prison. My dad, my aunt, my cousin, and I are pictured.

Dear Black Man

Being at war with you is being at war with self. Since our is connection is that powerful, peace with you essential. Let's establish it. I'm ready to call a truce. I'll start by acknowledging your truths. Life is hard for you and often you are not heard. You know diamonds are created from pressure, but you wonder if I know only a diamond can scratch another diamond's surface. My words cut deep; they're not polishing. I'm abrasive. The pressure from without and within coupled with the hurts you don't speak of doesn't feel like shaping. You walk through fire in the world then you're tried by fire in our home. You love me more than I know, but your peace is better protected when you're gone. And that's baffling. If it weren't for your principles, integrity, and love, you would sever this umbilical connection to me because it hasn't been nourishing you lately. Some days you wonder, "Damn, does she hate me?" You carry the torch to guide, provide, and protect. You never saw it modeled. You're learning as you go and doing your best. You feel me so deeply its as though I'm a valve in your chest. You wish I understood that I'm capable of making you feel superhuman able or like you're bringing nothing at all to the table. I acknowledge this and apologize. I realize my aptitude to antagonize. I don't show it like I should, but I empathize with your struggles. I hurt whenever you suffer. I love you enough to lay down my arms and defenses, to stop talking and listen, to sit with you in our individual and collective to truths, to honor the king in you, and help you rehab the little boy. Being at peace with you is being at peace with self. Since our is connection is that powerful, loving you essential. And I do. I love you. 

P.S.: I wrote this particularly for the black men in my life and/or who have been a part of my life. It is, in part, a response to myself and something I wrote years ago. It is ultimately an open, sincere apology to and acknowledgment of those beautiful black men who have shaped me for better or worse. 

Life is profound.

Life is profound; so many of its facets are beyond our individual and collective control. It can be exhilarating. It can be devastating. It can be anywhere in between. On the days when life, living, and all that encompass human experiences are exceptionally heavy, find some positive thing and embrace the joy in it. Linger there. Rest in that moment. Rehab the spirit of your resilience. Life is profound; so many of its facets are beyond our individual and collective control. It can be peaceful. It can be chaotic. It can be anywhere in between. How can the human heart and mind prepare for life's variables? How can we survive its ebbs and flows? We ACCEPT that life is profound and so many of its facets are beyond our individual and collective control. Then we set out to positively IMPACT all that is in our ability to change for the better. 

Life is beautiful.

Life is beautiful" affixed to a laundry basket on laundry day seems oxymoronic in a mocking way. (I actually thought "Why did I purchase this? It's not even that cute.") Laundry is mundane. It's cyclical. Few of us experience deep pleasure and excitement from laundry, but it has to be done. Whether you attack laundry with routine efficiency or let it pile until you have no choice(🙋🏿‍♀️🤦🏿‍♀️), you get it done. Laundry is a relatable example of "I do not have to enjoy every moment of this, but I do have to do it." Doing what needs to be done even when the actions are thrill-less doesn't take from the beauty of life; it adds to the credibility, accountability, and responsibility of the individual. Today I needed a reminder that any and every thing I want requires action and effort even for the mundane parts of the process; my laundry and this basket provided it.

Home

My experiences taught me that it is unwise to define home on the basis of individuals and relationships. Things are destroyed. Deaths, divorces, births, marriages, and blending happen everyday. Families downside and expand. Dwellings are acquired and lost. Children grow up and establish themselves elsewhere. 

There are a plethora of variables.

When your definition of home is inextricable from a certain place, person, or group of people you may feel like a drifter if/when things shift. You experience a sense of permanent displacement that impacts your perspective and how well or poorly you relate to the world and those around you. It becomes difficult to cope with change, and, and this is important, you sacrifice time, energy, and self trying to recreate what was rather than design what can be. 

Well, this was all true in my case.

My view of family and home was so rigid that it left no room for contentment with my reality of family, home, and consequently, self. It also contributed to flawed logic. (ie: "My family is broken, so I am broken. My home is dysfunctional  so I am dysfunctional.) I did not understand my own ability and responsibility to influence home and family. I did not realize that I could implement what worked well and discard what had no utility for me.  

I viewed myself as a recipient not a benefactor. I wanted to recreate in some form or fashion, preferably a perfected, pre things fall apart version, of my childhood. To do so, I needed individuals who were willing to play roles, and I had to play a role myself. I was reenacting as opposed to establishing. 

It was necessary to expand my definition of home and family in order to experience acceptance, gratitude, and ultimately joy. For me, home is no longer one's place of residence or origin. It is not the social unit formed by a family living together. For me, home is self. I am home when a harmonious relationship with self is achieved. 

When INTRA-harmony happens, I can establish home wherever I am. When INTRA-harmony happens, it is easier to be in harmony with my environment. As I become more and more at home in myself, I am able to create more functional connections with others.

As I cleaned and organized today, I looked around and counted the little, average, seemingly insignificant things, both tangibles and intangibles, that bring me joy and contribute to my sense of peace and well-being. I snapped a picture because I am so proud of my space. I love my cabinet, an impulse buy at Target. I love my artwork, faux plants, candles, journals, and my books. (I really LOVE my books.) 

I am home.

P.S.

What makes you feel at home within yourself and environment?

Let's talk about it: Haters

Some people want, nay, long for, haters. It's a thing. 🤷🏿‍♀️ Some misguided soul at some point said something that amounted to "you ain't winning if you ain't got haters" and referenced Jesus, Judas, the Pharisees and Sadducees, and a few scriptures thus revolutionizing the perspective on having a camp of people wanting, nay, longing for your failure, unhappiness, and general decline.

There was a time in my life when I thought "I must be doing something wrong. I have not one hater. I must make one by tomorrow." 🤦🏿‍♀️🤦🏿‍♀️🤦🏿‍♀️ Now, I know that the minding of one's business, avoidance of drama, and internal checking of one's motives and attitudes generally creates likeability. I do not have haters. A part from the  lot of people who genuinely root for me, most of the world regards me with a pleasant indifference if they regard me at all. I am okay with this non-polarizing, quiet life.

I said all of that to say:

Refuse to occupy the hater quota or space for anyone. You can accept or reject these well-wishes, good vibes, and happy thoughts, but they radiate from me anyhow. I refuse to allow anyone to transform my energy into pettiness or negativity. 

Ladies and gentlemen, protect you peace. 

Blessed are the peacemakers. (That's in the Book.)

The entire last decade was a process of elimination. I learned what was a definite "no," "no thank you," and "hell no" for me. This process of elimination extended to education, finances, faith, career, relationships, health, time, preferences, dislikes, etc. I ended the decade with a beautiful clarity about what I do not want and/or need. 

I know what I am unwilling to give and sacrifice including, but not limited to self, sanity, peace, and purpose. I know what does not work well for my body, heart, and mind including, but not limited to dairy, lack of sleep, lack of exercise, tweezing, fast food, casual sex, a revolving door of relationships, cohabitation, fear, depression, anxiety, and agnosticism. I am clear what I do not want included in the mission, vision, policies, and practices governing my life.

Somewhere between the age of 11 and 14, I wrote a valedictorian speech. (I just knew I'd graduate valedictorian. That didn't happen, but it's okay. Let's move on.🤷🏿‍♀️) In this speech, I admonished my imagined audience to prize observation as the greatest teacher. Because observation is less costly than experience, the wise person, I wrote, learns from others' experiences and does not have to experience everything for him or herself. 

Then, I set out to learn everything the hard way. (🤦🏿‍♀️🤦🏿‍♀️🤦🏿‍♀️) From 2010 to 2019, age 19 through 29, I willingly and knowingly participated in lessons that cost a great deal aka dumb-ass decisions. I went in circles. I took detours. I started construction projects on every road and left them unattended. It was, and this is  minimization, a hot mess. 

When I sorted through that mess, bagged the heaps of trash and toss that crap out, cleaned, and rearranged a beautiful space was revealed. Clarity! Clarity! Clarity! (Where had you been all my life? 😊🥰😍) I can work with clarity. I know where to start with clarity. The clarity that accompanies and encompasses me in 2020 is exciting.

There's no more time for trying a little of everything. (Ouch! 😬😰 I just stepped on my own toes.) The process of elimination while filled with utility is time consuming. I understand the lessons. I passed the test. I do not have to repeat the course. (Thank you, Jesus! 🙌🏿) Now, I can apply my knowledge and clarity. Now, I can start walking in purpose on purpose. Now, I can start operating according to vision I have painstakingly cultivated. Clarity is performance-enhancing. It will not execute my vision for me, but it attaches meaning and value to execution.