Genetic Memory

On July 13, 2013October 17, 2016 By dancingpalmtreesIn 29th Colored Regiment CT, Ancestor, Ancestry, Army, Battle, Bridge, Buffalo Soldiers, Cathay Williams, Civil War, DeBorah, Dreams, Ethiopian Goddess, Family History, Family Tree, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Genetic lineage, Genetic Memory, Goddess, Judges 4: 4-5, Judges 5: 7, King James Version Bible, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Maternal lineage, Matriarchy, Memorial Day, Memory, Mother, Mother over Israel, Museum, Pharaohs of Egypt, Photographs, Sacred, Sanctuary, soul, Spirit, Spirituality, Vision, Vision Quest, Visions, War, William Henry Halstead, Wisdom, Woman5 Comments

Genetic Memory

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Hamlet (1.5.166-7), Hamlet to Horatio

2 Corinthians 12:3-4

New International Version (NIV)

³And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows— ⁴was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell.

Lately I’ve been having some very odd spiritual experiences. They are akin to the TV program Quantum Leap where the guy leaps into another person’s body or even more personal like the protagonist in the Octavia Butler novel, Kindred. Mine is not quite that spectacular but it began last year with my mother’s spirit speaking through me to create a memoir for her. Even though my Mom has been deceased since 1998 it was like she and I were one flesh. The stimulus was a rather unpleasant family disagreement but that one trigger melded our spirits and I began to feel the emotions she had over 50 years ago concerning my Brother Stephen’s developmental disability. All the hurt, pain, sadness, anguish and depression she felt when she was unjustly accused of causing her beloved son’s autism surfaced within my spirit.

I just began to write and write over the course of the last 7 or 8 months. Then after finding out some interesting family history concerning my maternal grandmother again I began to experience her emotions. Then a few days ago when I was posted in the Civil War Photography exhibit at my museum, once more an ancestor’s thoughts and emotions came to me. My Great, Great Grandfather William Henry Halstead fought in the Civil War. There was a steady stream of visitors but everyone was quiet, calm, serious, deeply affected by what they were seeing. During the course of the day as I walked through the photographs taking everything in it was like I began to see through the eyes of my Great, Great Grandfather. I could hear the sounds of battle, the screams of pain from injured soldiers, feel his adrenaline as he surged forth with his 29th CT. Colored Regiment brothers. All I can say it was like I was in his head. I had to make an effort to turn off so I could finish my day without freaking out. Even now I feel he is still with me even though I never met him. Maybe this is genetic memory. All the memories of our ancestors stay with us though we are separated by time but not necessarily by eternity. As a writer it gives a different aspect and flavor to my writing but it is a very strange sensation and I don’t know what to make of this new development.

William H. Halstead name as inscribed on the Colored Soldiers Monument in Washington, DC

It happened last year as I was making a Family Photo collage for the Employee Art Show. It was as though family members long deceased most whom I never got the chance to meet were telling me where to place all the photos within the collage. Very strange.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m some type of an Empath like on Star Trek.

Empaths have the ability to scan another’s psyche for thoughts and feelings or for past, present, and future life occurrences. Many empaths are unaware of how this actually works, and have long accepted that they were sensitive to others.

I posed my questions to the FB Black Ancestry page and received several intuitive responses.

“I’ve been chosen as a Portal by my family members who have passed on.

Some inanimate objects do have an impressed energy and will release to an open mind/spirit. Some good, some negative. In your case, the familiar of family to present themselves to you to share an understanding of who they were to help others in their journeys here.”

While in the Egyptian Wing of the museum I also felt a spiritual connection to this woman perhaps Queen Tiye whose face graces a canopic jar.

William Henry Halstead Headstone ~ Sleepy Hollow

The Battle scene I heard while in the Civil War Photography exhibit as described by one of my Great, Great Grandfathers fellow soldiers. http://conn29th.org/stories.htm

Maybe my Great, great grandfather is trying to connect with me. Sometimes I wonder why he speaks to me. Also I never had experiences of this magnitude when I was younger. I did have visions between the ages of 4 and 5 but I never told my parents for fear they would think I was nuts. These visions began again after I turned 50. I’m 54 now. An odd age for the portal to reopen. Now I know why he waited nearly 150 years not just for me to make an appearance on this earth but he waited for “The One”. The Anointed One who would be able to tell the stories of the ancestors and who could make Spiritual Consolation so their souls could be at rest.

In December of 1863 my Great Great Grandfather, William Henry Halstead, who lived in Tarrytown, New York, traveled to New Haven, Connecticut to join the 29th Connecticut Colored Infantry. On his Volunteer Enlistment papers it notes his occupation as a farmer. He enlisted for three years and was discharged on the 24th day of October 1865. He married and had five children. William Henry Halstead passed away in 1888 and was buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown, New York. His wife moved to New York City with her five children. Her children grew up in Harlem and belonged to various organizations such as Odd Fellows, Ladies of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Daughters of New York.

Sp4 Palmer, 569th PSC & 101st Airborne Division.

Deborah Ann Palmer U.S. Army 1977-1981 — Deborah Ann Palmer
U.S. Army 1977-1981

I’m glad my spirit is open and that some family members have decided to reconnect through the veil of life and death to communicate with me. I would say that they don’t want to be forgotten by current and future generations. I am Chosen to tell their stories.

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

On July 10, 2013November 8, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, African King, Colour of Beauty, Dark Skin, DeBorah, Ethiopian Goddess, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Goddess, Menopause, Mother over Israel, Scars, Spirituality, Tattoos, Visions, Wisdom, Woman4 Comments

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

It’s dangerous to be a Black Woman over 40 and seeking that special life partner. You’re an entity of exotica, scorn, repellent to some and desired by others. Both Jezebel and Sapphire. Succubus and Saint. Are we sex monsters or vixens. Or have we become the seductive Sirens of Green mythology dangerous and beautiful femme fatales who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting melody and singing to shipwreck on the rocky coasts of their deserted island.

Do we aspire to Hatshepsut or the Mata Hari?

At the demands of a modern sex driven society some of us re-imagine ourselves as the Vixen capable of seducing any man, but is this only a self-imposed illusion that aligns and binds us within men’s’ fantasies?

http://82nd-and-fifth.metmuseum.org/monsters

There are special dating challenges for dark-skinned Black women and Black Women over 50. All women have insecurities about their looks and self-worth. Am I ever good enough? Do I measure up? Thomas doubted Jesus. We doubt ourselves. In the process we lose some of our dignity. We are raised to compete for a so-called small pool of Black men. Daily images of perfectly shaped buff voluptuous curvy young sisters are thrown in our faces by the media. Women must always be perfect. Perhaps we are more lumpy than curvy.

We must fit the image society has for us. Even though in this country we have the right to choose a marriage partner, but from youth girls are trained to believe marriage and children are the end-all and be-all of life. We aspire to that. We are misguided. Then as you approach 40 some of us become more desperate because that’s when you fall off men’s radar.

After age 50 you totally disappear. Relegated to the trash heap of modern antiquities. Relics of a bygone era. Back in the day women like me were called spinsters or Old Maids. Heck there was even a kid’s card game called Old Maid and you didn’t want to get that card! Even though we no longer use those terms they are still in the back of our minds. So many emotions jockeying for position inside our heads and ingrained in our Psyche. I think it is much worse for Black Women. We become veterans of romantic wars at odds with our uniqueness vs. the Stepford Women of society and media.

And we do know that Beauty misplaced may yield the seeds of misfortune.

In my 20s I was just coming into my sexuality and my imagined power to get men to do my bidding based on my body. In my 30s I yearned to settled down, not necessarily to have children but to play the role of wife. Such a role was never realized. By 40 with both my parents gone and not wanting to spend the rest of my life alone I entered into a long-term relationship with an abusive man who in small doses of love mixed with pain destroyed my self-confidence, belief in myself and planted seeds of doubt that it took years to root out. Age 48 my abuser left me for a younger woman after years of tearing me down. I was rid of him physically but emotional, physical and sexual abuse had taken its toll.

Emotional scars take longer to heal than physical. More rapidly than I would have like 50 seized me by the synapses and the emotional roller coaster of Menopause played havoc with my emotions and feelings. I had to throw off the shackles of past abuse and find a new me that I could love. So I re-imagined myself into Storm and Cat Woman. Sounds odd but fictional strong female characters allowed me a safe space to grow into this new phase of womanhood. Now at age 54 I can truly say I’m about 95% at peace with myself and for the most part I enjoy the pleasure of my own company. Perhaps one day I’ll dip once more into the dating pool but today it’s all about me. Me being a Unicorn.

Eye of the Beholder

http://youtu.be/xHp9q3QTmVQ

Masks for the Masquerade

http://youtu.be/VOdF7UCf1VQ

Be Original. Be Yourself.

: Be Original. Be Yourself.

Ms. Afro Rojo signing off.

: Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011

I’m Gonna Keep Sitting on it Scrubs

On May 2, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, African King, DeBorah, deception, Ebonics, Edward Palmer, Ethiopian Goddess, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Images, Mable Palmer, profane, Sacred, Scars, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Tattoos, Visions, WTF1 Comment

I live in Bodega-Land, Brooklyn. Exchange at the Bodega across from the Laundromat. I’m wearing an old Ecko Red short sleeve shirt and some skinny jeans. I’m waiting for my Beef Patty with cheese and coco bread. While I’m paying for my food and drink I get the following rap from Snagglepuss. “Ya keep ya body nice. Can I get your number and can I give you mine.” I’m polite and keep that smile on my face knowing I’m about to reject this fool because I don’t want any confrontation before I get to eat my food or check my clothes washing across the street.

He notices that I speak proper English and says; I see that you’re an intellectual. Hmmm I’m thinking just because I live in the Ghetto doesn’t mean I must lapse into Ghettoese or Ebonics. Crooked teeth continues, maybe you and me can get together and discuss spirituality, blah, blah, blah, bullshit. You know the way that Rasta Negro was eyeing me up and down his mind wasn’t on the things of God or any type of Spiritual talk. Leon Spinks just wanted to find a way to get some “Coochie”. I lied and told him I had a boyfriend. I just wanted to get away from his sorry ass, finish my food and get my laundry done. Mission Accomplished.

However in the words of the immortal Ruth Brown, “I’ll Just Keep Sitting on it. I ain’t giving it away.” Rochdale Village had its share of old coots prowling for “Coochie” I see Brownsville/Bed Stuy has it’s own share of horny fools with really lame game.
http://youtu.be/KPll4sQDssU

Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain't Listening. — Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain’t Listening.

Ladies, always remember Men are like the City Bus there’s another one coming in 20 minutes hopefully with good teeth, fresh breath, who bathes and uses deodorant.

Honey if you’re game is lame and your rap is weak don’t even think of stepping to me. No romance without finance. And no I don’t do Ugly, fat or Stupid. I may be broke but I’m never desperate. I’d work 40 hours of overtime before I hook up with your no job, no car, no talking sorry hoodrat/thug/bad boy ass. Been there. Done That. Paid the Price.

http://youtu.be/pKV8uSX2nEQ

Ladies you gotta let these men know what’s up. They telling you they can do acrobatics with their dick! Really! Are they fucking double jointed or contortionists? Give me a fucking break. Please! Why is their dick so much more special than any other. Is it extra long? Does it swing from side to side. WTF! Then they a fucking freak and belong in Ripleys Believe it or Not. Or maybe they should be making porno films. I’m older and wiser now. Dick don’t mesmerize me anymore. Get something in your head or you’ll never get me in bed. My body is my temple and only my true King who I choose can enter in. Don’t get it twisted. Little boy your package does not impress me. In the meantime Losers give your Ding-A-Ling a hand job.

My Ding-A-Ling

Ladies if you’ve had the best don’t settle for less.

Get up off your broke ass, fix your face , see a dentist and fix your teeth, and get an education and a decent job. If you can’t come correct don’t come at all.

Hello Summer in the City!

Freedom from the Drone/Hive Mentality

On March 9, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Abuse, African American Queen, African Goddess, cacophony, Catharsis, DeBorah, deception, Deliverance, Delusions, despair, Dissonance, Domestic Violence, Dreams, Drone, Ethiopian Goddess, Fantasy, Fears, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Goddess, Hive, Instability, Koyaanisqatsi, Photographs, Pictures, profane, Protean, Ritual, Sacred, Scars, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Suffering, Surrealism, Tattoos, Vision Quest, Visions

Freedom from Drone/Hive Mentality

Spiritual Spring Cleaning: “Purge items and photos that remind you of destructive people or forces, which perpetuate negative life-story patterns. Spring is a great season to begin a new chapter, but you’ll need a blank page to get started.” — Bajay Pitter

Strategies for Deliverance

I love seeing formerly battered and abused women go from victims to Victory. Being a survivor of domestic & sexual violence I can relate to the pain and sufferings of women trying to escape abusive relationships. Even after being delivered from my abuser physically it still took a long time to be delivered mentally and emotionally. I’m still on the road to complete deliverance but at least I’m further down the road than 6 years ago.

The pain is there. It’s real. I’ve learned I must speak my pain but not to dwell within the pain. I must not make a home inside the pain. One of the ways to move past that pain is to destroy any reminders from that time period. I kind of had a waiting to exhale moment. No, I didn’t burn up his clothing but whatever he left inside my house went into the garbage that included clothing, computer junk, his old business cards, anything related to his pigeon hobby, and any photographs of him.

I especially found destroying the pictures to be a type of Cleansing Ritual. It was therapeutic because I was symbolically as well as physically removing my abuser from my life. It was the first step towards healing. I can remember during the time I was with my abuser I went to a Women’s Retreat with my church. One of the things our Pastor’s Wife had us do was to write our fears or challenges down on little strips of paper and throw them into a fireplace. Fire represents a form of purging and casting photos of the abuser along with the bitter memories into the flames is cathartic. Think of it as conducting our own personal “Burning Man” ritual. Of course depending on where you live and if you live in a house or an apartment it may not be practical to build a bonfire in the backyard or sacrifice our kitchen stoves at the risk of violating our city’s ordinances or creating pyrotechnics worthy of Mrs. O’Leary’s bovine arsonist.

A safer and less risky ceremony would be to take every picture of your abuser and run them through the shredder. This would accomplish the same fulfillment which is to banish this person as much as possible from your life. Now for me it was easier because we only had a common-in-law marriage and did not have children together. For those ladies who have property and children in common with the abuser this might become more difficult but still doable. If there are children involved I’d save two or three photos for the children to have once they become adults but I’d place those pictures in a safe deposit box or a strong box located in the basement, attic or a close family member or friend’s home to give the kids an opportunity to decide what they feel and make their own personal decisions upon reaching adulthood.

The objective is to begin the process of purification. Wash away the slime, filth and dirt off our bodies and out of our lives. To arise from the ashes like the Phoenix reborn, renewed, and ready to rebuild our lives. Today take up the shattered pieces of your life and build something brand new. A new beginning. A new identity created and defined by you not your abuser or outside detractors and naysayers.

Phoenix arising from the Ashes — Phoenix Arising from the Ashes

Graduate from the School of Hard Knocks don’t take up residence there. Resistance is not futile. Do not be assimilated into the Hive. Our identities and self-worth do not reside within another person but within us. The power to become free resides within us.

There is a Reset button to life. Not to move us back to before our relationship with the abuser but now knowing the signs, how not to be so needy to return to those destructive relationships. How can I Love myself and build up myself so I can attract healthy romantic relationships. Of course none of this freedom is won overnight.

There will still be days of doubt, fear, and frustration but those are the days when we reach out to our support group, our inner circles for help and reassurance that in time everything will work out.

Today I release myself from the Island of Lost Souls back into the solace of self and community.

Go back

Your message has been sent

Fifty Fabulous and Fifty Fantastic Freedoms

On March 8, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, Carnal, Dreams, Erotic, Judges 4: 4-5, Judges 5: 7, Menopause, Native American, Tattoos

Fifty Fabulous-Fifty Free

My 54^th Birthday this past Feb. 27^th turned out to be much better than I had ever wished. I have to admit four years ago when I entered the fifth decade of my life that after the initial thrill of turning the Big 5-0 that if struck me that I had made it to the half century point in my life. Questions posed themselves in my mind as to what that meant to be a woman in her 50s. Then came a time of troubles—health challenges. Commands that my body easily obeyed at 25 seemed to take a hellava lot longer now. Suddenly I had a new “boyfriend” named Arthur Itis. He woke me up in the morning. Followed me around all day long and keep me company at night. In fact he was more attentive than guy I’d ever known. Creaking joints Snapped, Crackled and Popped more than a bowl of Rice Krispies. I qualified for the titled of middle-aged Transformer. However by communicating with Transformers I’ve found ways to lessen the effects of that ill-mannered fellow Arthur and one day I hope to banish him completely from my life in favor a lover who inflicts less physical pain.

A few days after my Birthday I learned that my former company The Reader’s Digest is undergoing a Chapter 11 Reorganization. I received a letter in the mail to this effect which indicated phone numbers to call for more information. I learned will be able to collect my Reader’s Digest pension next year when I turn 55. Also I will be able get my annuity from United Way of New York City. Suddenly getting older is looking better and better each day. Now I’m counting down to February 27, 2014!!

Let’s face it money is a tool that gives us access to more options. Retirement. Once something way off in the distant future is a short five or six years away for me now. Pensions, annuities, retirement, together all mean freedom to pursue my passions, goals, and my deepest heartfelt desires with the means and time to do so. Doing my Happy Dance! Perhaps depending on the amount of money I receive I will be able to stop working full-time and just take a part-time job. More time to engage with my writing, my art, and my photography. More choices. Life rapidly expands to 55 flavors, way more than Baskin-Robbins without the stomach upset!! LOL!! A new confidence has arisen within my soul. Hell yeah!! It’s time for another Tattoo maybe an additional piercing to celebrate this great Victory!!

Fifty-Five is the magic number for pensions, annuities and senior housing. I’m not sure if you knew this but you can apply for Senior Housing in New York City at age 55. I plan on doing this next year. Now all my dreams are doable. I see light at the end of the tunnel. Next year I could actually travel on my vacation instead of staying home. Hallelujah!!

Another blessing in disguise is kind of silly but I’ll share it anyway. I’ve finally gone one entire year without having a menstrual cycle which means I’m now officially in Menopause. No more periods. No babies. No need to use birth control, of course I stopped using birth control years ago, but if I do meet a nice gentleman I no longer have to worry about becoming pregnant! Yeah!! Hip! Hip!! Hooray!! Naturally until I meet the right man I’ll continue to be celibate. Another good thing about being a woman in her 50s is that I’m no longer controlled by my libido or my hormones. I’ve become more selective and celibacy is an option that I will continue to embrace while still finding joy with my physical body and my enhanced sexuality as an older woman.

Financially Free, sexually free with time to engage in meaningful activities and relationships. Being in my 50s does not mean less than but more than ever. An elevation to a higher level of living. A greater share in life’s blessings.