She put her hand to the Stone and a million millennia of memories coursed through her soul and out from her pores.
She put her hand to every boulder and heard the rocks cry out their praise to Our Creator.
She put her hand to the magnificent Oak Tree and received the voices of streams, rivers, oceans, lakes and streams.
Woman Tree
She put her hand inside Gaia Mother Earth and heard the calls of sacrifices, bog dwellers, cave peoples, the cries of those murdered all crying out for justice.
She extended her hands within the forest absorbed the singings of creatures past and present reverberating within her spirit. Her fingers touched the voices of cave dwellers imbuing their drawings with Life. And in the fullness of time vibrations echoed through the eons.
She put her hand upon the Rock of Ages and they extended their hands inside her inner being enveloping her with knowledge, wisdom and understanding.
What Are The Akashic Records & How to Access the Akashic Records
Epoch Heydays beat rhythm time Tempo bringing Glory Days and Golden Age into Earth, Space, time Continuum alignment around my being. Spiritual Discernment begins the convergence of planets, Moon-Womben Star-gazers endlessly birthing heavenly bodies and floating orbs.
Mother Africa as Creator Goddess singing Reign Blessings upon her children.
My World, the ones I saw in my Grandmother’s Quilt and the ever expanding Galaxies beyond Earth, Sky, Sun and Moon-Daughter Wishes, Hopes and Desires.
Ancient hand stretching finger Ancestor Dimensions reaching forward into time and eternity bringing revelation knowledge of history long past yet made fresh daily.
Troubles beating bloody fists upon my pate.
Belladonna into Nightshades.
Tethered by an unholy umbilical cord to a dead albatross. Dreams deluge. Green metal Frigidaire Fan blowing air opposite it’s promised heat relief. Stub toe late shift Dad curses Castro and his Convertible. Bucolic heat wave summer in the city. 25 cent Ice Cream salvation dispensed by Mr. Softee. Martha Reeves and her Vandellas gyrating to Dancing in the Streets while kids follow her Piped Pipers.
Kool-Aid libation sugar screams ensue while transistor talking heads Ralph Kiner and Lindsey Nelson called Shea play by plays. Bygone days of Tri-Corn braids. Fletcher’s Castoria Beef Iron Wine cocktails. Childhood freedom beckons signalling release from adulthood chain gangs. Teeter-totter bring unbalanced superimposed idealized memories to double-doubted times past. It’s 1964 and my Dixie Peach anointed head snuggles with Panda pillow transcending time once again in the loving arms of Grandma Eva’s patchwork quilt.
Two females fighting for the attentions of a worthless man.
Life is one giant learning experience. I chalk up the misplaced words of bitter jealous insecure women as signs of immaturity and deal with them on that level. Would I fight over a man? No. Why. Because Honey there ain’t that much “love” in the world and I’m saving that love for the happy trio of me, myself and I.
Unfortunately we as women live in a society that pits us against each other. Something like a female “Hunger Games”. Women are made to feel that they are in competition with each other over the few crumbs of favor, perks or success some man in authority and power may throw our way. Not so. Yes we do live in a male dominated society but women must band together and make their own opportunities but not at the expense of our images.
This is what I hate most about shows like, Love and Hip-Hop, Basketball Wives, Housewives of (fill in the blank), Mob Wives, etc… These women who’ve only had a semblance of “success” through a rich husband or father throw themselves into the TV Roman arena, then commence to claw, rip and shred each other apart. The first two shows I mentioned make well-to-do Black Women or rather Black Women in general look like gold digging sluts. Unfortunately this is what our young Black women model themselves after. How long are we going to going to be dazzled by this bullshit?
The mindset of these negative TV shows is so pervasive that it’s even seeping to the psyche of older women. That makes for the older women vs. the younger women slugfests. Women of a certain age feel they have to slice, dice, ice, pull up, straighten out, fly, dye and pull to the side various parts of their anatomy in hopes that an admiring man preferably wealthy will look their way. As a 50+ Black Woman I refuse to allow male dominant culture to marginalize or put me out to pasture.
More than likely the war between age and youth has always been in place but the advent of technology escalates the situation to a whole new level.
With the dawn of cable TV, the Internet and social media the heat is on women who feel they’re past their prime to belly up to the bimbo bar. All of sudden superficiality has replaced substance. Hair, nails and make-up have become more important than morals, values, academic knowledge or intellectually bearing. Don’t get me wrong I too color my hair and get my nails done but my reason behind these beauty treatments are they please me. The pampering makes me feel good as a woman and naturally I want to look good. However anyone who knows me well also knows I’m not the type of woman to dumb myself down for a man. I come from a place of intellect, intelligence and knowledge. I believe my sexiness is internal manifesting itself in the external. Yes I can look great in a mini-skirt, dress or shorts but I can also hold an intelligent conversation on a range of topics from literature, history and sociology. This brings me to my next point.
Where are the TV shows that balance these horrible images out? Where are our Black Women writers, scientists, researchers, anthropologists, astronauts, historians…..? Mae Jemison, Barbara Jordan, Shirley Chisholm, Sojourner Truth, Zora Neale Hurston, Fanny Lou Hamer, Mary McLeod Bethune, Ida B. Wells-Barnett.
Shameful Silence. How much do you Ladies want to bet that the cast of Basketball Wives has no knowledge of these great Black Women? On the other hand would they want to?
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 