Happy Anniversary - I Look To You

This week marked the one year anniversary of Alli’s Two Cents!

Can you believe it?!

Maybe it’s me but 2011 flew by at warp speed. And considering how intense a year it was for many of us, perhaps that’s a good thing. J

I want to say THANK YOU for the outpouring of support and affirmation I’ve received from my friends, family, loved ones, and brand new followers as you have all read my many musings.

Most of all, I thank God for how He / She has kept me.

As I look back over the past year, I can truly say that I would not be where I am today without the grace and mercy of God’s power, which continues to sustain me.

God, in all things, I look to You.

As I am sure many of you know, I Look To You was the title of the last recording released by Whitney Houston.

How many of us could have imagined that we would be mourning her loss at this time in our lives and history?

I know there has been much written and speculated about her very untimely transition. So much so that I considered not mentioning it at all.

But my thoughts have persisted over these past few days so I hope you will indulge me.

I don’t have anything profound or indicting to say about Whitney Houston’s past, conflicts, or issues. And surely there are no other accolades or adjectives I could add to describe her tremendous voice and catalogue of work.

All I can speak to is the lesson I took from this very unfortunate turn of events.

Whitney Houston’s untimely death truly startled me.

It made me wonder what could have possibly been going through her mind, heart, and spirit to bring her to this place.

We can all opine ad nauseum about what she could have done, what she should have done, who she really was, and who she really was not. But at the end of the day, perhaps she was just a tortured soul who was tired.

A little while back I wrote about how we as a culture view and engage gentle people (Wearing My Heart On My Sleeve – Alli’s Two Cents, December 22, 2011). Many may not consider Whitney Houston a gentle person per se, because she was a diva in every sense of the word. But I wonder if her often over-the-top persona was a mask she donned to make sure the show went on when on the inside, there was pain she obviously numbed with many externals, be it substances or bravado.  

And while many may not agree, I just feel like maybe she was a gentle soul who didn’t always make the right choices or choose to surround herself with the best people (who of us hasn’t had a blunder or two on both counts?) who, in the end, wasn’t strong enough to fight all of the battles she faced, both external endured and internally inflicted.

And the fact that we can so harshly scrutinize that makes me sad.

No excuses – just an observation.

For me, this was a wake-up call.

Every time I think of her and the tears well up in my eyes, I am filled with a resolve to not let my past inform my destiny; frame my perspective; become my identity.

I suppose that somehow, we must all bravely and courageously address and heal from the challenges life inevitably brings, and, in our own way and in our own time, find that path to surrender and peace where we can let go of the hurt and embrace the Love that truly offers oil for ashes, joy through sorrow, and the proverbial garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.

If not, carrying that weight will take a costly toll.

So God of grace, mercy, love, kindness, and compassion, with profound gratitude and humility, here is all I can say:

I look to You,
I look to You
After all my strength is gone
In You I can be strong
I look to You,
I look to You
And when melodies are gone

In You I hear a song
I look to You

I'm Just Gonna Marry You!

Due to an unexpected illness I experienced last year this time, I had several weeks of unexpected down time. Being a true American, however, I couldn’t just sit there and recuperate. Oh no - I had to do something productive with my life! So I began reading a book called The Automatic Millionaire that had been sitting on my shelf for more than a few years.

As I read, I was infused with practical advice and inspiration as to how to begin to not only put my financial house in order but build wealth, even at late 40-something. The more I read, the more I realized that this prescribed approach gave me an understanding of money that made me feel empowered. This led me to believe that I might actually be in love with the author, David Bach. His method would save me! With that, I put the book down in my lap and, with little hearts swirling above my head, much like the Peanuts’ Sally used to have every time she saw her beloved Linus, I sighed and proclaimed to myself, “I’m just gonna marry him!”

In that moment, I distinctly remember this notion giving me pause because I suddenly realized that whenever someone impacted me in a profound way, or whenever I feel great love and appreciation for something anyone did for or gave to me, I’d say I was going to marry them. (Actually, I still say that J.)

This led me to ponder, “When, in my mind, did the highest expression of love become marriage?”

I thought that this Valentine’s edition of Alli’s Two Cents might be a good place to take a look at love in the 21^st century and what it now means to us “girls” who, according to Beyonce (happily married and a new mom to boot, I might add), rule the world.

I recently read an excerpt from Elizabeth Gilbert’s newest book, Committed, a follow-up to her awesome book Eat Pray Love. In Committed, Ms. Gilbert (one of my Muses) wrestles with the prospect of getting married to the man of her dreams after surviving a disastrous divorce and life-altering year of self exploration (my goal, by the way – I thankfully have the disastrous divorce behind me).

One may wonder if there’s too much pressure placed on the American romantic love model, at least from a woman’s perspective. Based on Hollywood’s version (with a little help from Ms. Gilbert’s observation), your husband is expected to be, “your best friend, your most intimate confidant, your emotional advisor, your intellectual equal, your comfort in times of sorrow.”

Or better yet, “your lover should magically be able to keep every part of [your] emotional being warm at the same time.”

A tall order, yes?

After spending time with women in a remote village in China, Ms. Gilbert noted that in other cultures, other women seem provide a good deal of this emotional sustenance aside from whatever may occur in their marriages.

Yes, you actually do have a husband, you do have sex, and your finances are intertwined. But a good deal of what she terms your “emotional nourishment” comes from what I term your sister circle – “sisters, aunties, mothers, grandmothers.”

The Village we’ve all heard of that I sorely miss these days.

What struck me as particularly poignant in this prose was the way she described the difference in how the women of this remote village viewed marriage. To quote my virtual Muse, romantic love and marriage was not seen as “the center of [their] emotional biography.”

Something to consider, I would say.

After all, love nurtures us wherever it comes from, and it seems to be those of us in the West who have elevated romantic love to this perhaps unrealistic pinnacle.

Not to mention this notion of every little girls’ so-called ultimate goal and fantasy – a spectacular wedding and blissful love to ensure that you live happily ever after.

Indeed romantic love is splendid and, to be honest, I miss it. But putting it at the center of my “emotional biography”, as Ms. Gilbert so eloquently puts it, doesn’t seem too balanced or realistic.

Instead of viewing romantic love and marriage as this life-defining reflection of our identity, perhaps it might be better seen as one part of our full life experience.

And, by the way, if marriage is, in fact, so central to our self actualization, many spiritual teachers I have read emphasize that our most intimate relationships do indeed mirror our true selves and provide an opportunity to heal and to grow. But in a healthy, mutual way – not a take care of me-fix me-fill me kinda way.

My goal here is not to provide a treatise on marriage and anthropological nuances but to simply note that romantic love and marriage may not be the highest expression of true commitment, connection, compassion, and caring. Perhaps it’s just one part of a multi-faceted, complexly-woven fabric of all kinds of love that impacts each of us in the most profound, intimate, and individual of ways.

So I know there are those of you who I have said I would marry for a number of reasons – from when you bought me a cup of coffee or a piece of chicken, gave me a hug and told me loved me, or shared a much desired book or beautiful music. But don’t panic. I don’t want you to meet all of my emotional needs. I was just trying to let you know that your expression of love sparked the highest form of joy in my soul – and that gift is met with profound gratitude.

So this Valentine’s Day, my hope is to manifest and enjoy the highest form of the divine – love in all of its splendor.

Happy Heart Day!

Girl Power! (P.S. I Am NOT My Hair!)

As my daughter’s first season as a high school baller comes to a close, I am moved by what I have observed as real Girl Power.

At each game, I see strong, confident young women who lead their teams and conquer themselves on the court not only through physical athletic skill but critical thinking in the heat of the moment.

As most know, sports have often been seen as a microcosm of the world and a great place to learn life skills that can be used in myriad situations.

The strength and confidence I see in these ladies makes me so proud.

Now that being a professional female athlete is more common, young women have role models who are assertive and powerful and can now develop these traits without feeling as self-conscious. It is more the norm, as it always should have been.

I also see these ladies defining themselves for themselves. This includes their sense of style. Whether it’s considered girlie or tomboyish (or some of both on any given day), it’s for them to decide and express boldly.

As athletes, my daughter and her teammates are developing all kinds of muscles in daily practices and multiple games each week that involve lots of sweat.

And we sisters know that sweat is the enemy of our hair!

Unfortunately, my daughter has still had to face a few unenlightened individuals who say that all she needs to do is run a flat iron through her hair or do something about those edges and she’d be fine.

Not compliment her on her initiative and commitment, or encourage her skill and prowess, but tell her she needs to do something about her hair even if she is an athlete.

Note to all the haters: she IS fine JUST AS SHE IS!

Unlike her Mama, Drew is also a true fashionista. She confidently explores different clothing and hair styles, make-up (sigh), and (double sigh) even hair color (more on that later). She naturally has light brown hair that gets blonde streaks in the summer thanks to the sun and chlorinated pool water. When she was a toddler, “some” people used to ask me if I had her hair professionally highlighted.

Really, people? She’s a baby!

Anyway, this year, she wanted to dye her hair black (that double sigh in the previous paragraph). After a year of heavy lobbying from her and our hair stylist, I relented.

Why?

Based on much thought, prayer, deliberation, and research, I came to the conclusion that a big part of being a teenage girl is about having fun! It's the one time in your life when you get to experiment (within reason) with your own ideas about beauty and define them for yourself.

Plus I decided she could want to dye her hair purple or blue so what the hell?

I didn’t get to freely explore who I was as a young woman because I came from a family and an era where a lot of unnecessary judgment was attached to something that can really be seen as a normal part of growing up.

Back in Alli’s Two Cents published February 18, 2011 (Happy Being Me [Even If Me Is Nappy]), I experimented with growing my hair out, re-texturizing it, and coloring it.

That lasted about three weeks.

I am happy to say I’m back to short, natural and even more gray!

What’s so disconcerting to me is the impact these subtle (or not-so-subtle) messages have on our girls (especially from those closest to us whose opinions do matter) as they develop their very fragile sense-of-self in a culture obsessed with an ideal of “beauty” that has been proven to be unattainable, let alone sustainable.

I do hope that one day, we as African Americans will come to a place where we can fully embrace who we are in all of our gorgeous splendor.

I am grateful (30-Day Gratitude Experiment!) that my daughter has chosen to pursue athletics at a time when female basketball players are seen as the norm. (Hopefully they will eventually not all be seen as lesbians, even if some of them are, but that's another blog for another time.) I am also optimistic that coming-of-age in this context will help her to realize that true Girl Power comes from knowing who you are within based on what you innately love and being your authentic self without apology.

I happen to see the rise of female athletics as one vehicle for doing just that.

And I pray that she and her teammates will continue to develop internal and external muscles in the crucible of life on and off the court.

Finally, for the record, let’s remind ourselves of what India.Aire so eloquently sang a few years back:

I am not my hair

I am not this skin

I am not your expectations, no

I am not my hair

I am not this skin

I am the soul that lies within