Three Cheers for Darkness – Lessons in the Light

This week I’ve become one of the Seven Dwarfs – Sneezy.

Maybe it’s the mild winter that has morphed into an early summer, but Mr. Pollen and Ms. Ragweed, coupled with their offspring Dust Mites and Mold, are having a field day with my nose.

So for the past few nights, I have been awake at all hours of the night, sitting in the darkness feeling like two bricks are sitting on my cheeks shooting pain through my teeth while my mouth hangs open gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Not a pretty sight.

Instead of bemoaning my plight, however, I’ve learned to go with the proverbial flow.

Can’t sleep? That’s what cable TV is for.

Nose clogged up? A pot of piping hot water laced with eucalyptus does wonders for the nasal passages and the skin.

It’s looking for the blessings and the lessons in whatever comes my way.

And here’s a news flash: the lessons and metaphors are there if we look hard enough.

As Oprah and many spiritual masters admonish us, the power lies not in asking, "What did I do to deserve this?” or “Why is this happening to me?” but in asking, “What is this here to teach me?”

You see, my nickname used to be Chicken Little.

At the sight of trouble, I’d break out in a cold sweat and swear that the end was near.

This was the Big One.

Just like Fred Sanford, I would look above and announce, “God (Elizabeth), I’m comin’ to join ya, honey.”

But years of declaring that the sky was falling taught me that not only is this level of anxiety no fun for me and a drag for those around me, it really doesn’t help.

Duh.

I am so grateful and proud of myself for how far I’ve come.

I’ve learned to congratulate myself for the steps I’m taking, especially for the increasingly innate ability to find the good in every situation (major paradigm shift here).

So here’s the metaphoric lesson my sinusitis taught me as I panted in the dark:

Darkness does not come to do us in but to remind us of just how powerful the light is.

And that light is in us so we must be mega powerful.

So let’s hear it for darkness – it offers powerful lessons in the light.

God In Me, Is Me, As Me

Yesterday I had the honor and privilege of attending the Women of Prince George’s County Second Annual Women’s Conference themed, “Connecting the Dots Around the Beltway”.

I intentionally approached this event with no expectations so that I could allow God to enrich me in the best, most purposeful way.

And enriched I was indeed.

You see, I have stubbornly clung to this erroneous belief that I am in no way an entrepreneur because I am such a softy. I had a tough time imagining myself as a cold, hard business woman, especially when I would survey the accomplishments of so many women-owned businesses that are thriving in what can be a rough-and-tumble, male-dominated world.

But yesterday confirmed that there isn’t a vast difference between me and these women and what we do every day.

I learned that these ladies simply took a dream, passion or opportunity and made their way by putting one bold foot in front of the other. Every day they are confronted with the same challenges and obstacles I face; wrestle with making the same choices that I make; and move forward one bold step at a time, just like I do.

They are me and I am them and God is in us all as who we gloriously are.

I think we as women are learning to embrace our natural inclination to come together and nurture and uplift one another in the spirit of collaboration, a vastly different concept than networking.

We seem less inclined to fear one another and have, instead, realized that keeping it real by candidly sharing our triumphs and our failures empowers us to learn and to grow.

I like that.

Interestingly enough, as I was writing this week’s post, the idea that stood out the most was how much is really in me – in all of us – and how God gently yet persistently coaxes it out of us through our life experiences.

Like how in The Wiz, Glenda the Good Witch pointed out to Dorothy that she had the power to go home (bring herself back to herself) right under her nose all along.

Sometimes we have to take the scenic route in order to realize that what we want we already have within. And sometimes all we need is a good coach to nudge us out of our shell.

It brought to mind my current job, where I was hired by the best manager I have ever had – a woman who was an expert at mentoring as well as collaboration. She would ask for my input, actually listen to it, and incorporate it into our processes, all while sharing the load. This, of course, is a very different approach from the traditional top-down management model that is slowly (thankfully) becoming a thing of the past.

With her headquartered 3,000 miles away in our home office, I didn’t want to imagine navigating this distant, rocky terrain without her expert guidance. However, I would be forced to do just that soon enough

She moved on to bigger and better things just six months after hiring me but I soon realized that this was God’s way of saying, “You’ve had a great start – now it’s time for you to do you.”

God has always been like that with me: I only get to have my hand held for so long when, just like a baby bird, I get booted out of the nest so I can fly in my own glorious way.

I used to panic when these natural progressions would occur. But now I no longer view them as pass-fail tests of my mettle but a revealing of a self I may be tempted to hide if I was always standing in someone else’s shadow.

I learned that like a watchful loving parent, God is me, in me, as me and that He / She delights in watching me come into my own.

He / She also refuses to let me play small.

I have come to see that a big part of this life journey involves God reminding me Who I Am and honoring my true identity, much in the same way I insist on knowing the real name of all of the wonderful Asian brothers and sisters who take such good care of my hands, feet, and eyebrows. It may seem like a small thing but I always say to them, “I know your name is not Tracy/Mike/Tina – tell me who you really are.”

So yesterday’s event gave me the opportunity to enjoy the company of like-minded sisters who honor their voice as well as their gifts and talents by refusing to play small and encouraging us all to do the same. I learned that, at one time or another, we all have the same questions, doubts, and palpitating heart but we feel the proverbial fear and do it anyway.

And should we stumble and fall along the way, we have God in us and others around us to remind us to just do what the old song says:

Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again J

Here's A Story...

Once upon a time there was a girl who came from a slightly provincial family with a lot of secrets.

Not like “your father’s really your brother” secrets but secrets all the same.

So she learned to hide them

And in turn she learned to hide.

And thus began her journey to cover up imaginary inadequacies unknowingly inherited but unconsciously passed down from generation to generation in perpetuity.

Then along came church. Real church.

Not like the go-through-the-motions church she grew up in but a soul-stirring, dig-deeper, I’m‑sure‑we’ve-got-the-answer-you’ve-been-looking-for church.

Since you’re all inadequate and all.

This is the kind of church that I think subconsciously seeks out hurting, weak people the way dogs and bees smell fear.

They will never admit it but they do for a host of reasons.

[At least my current level of spiritual evolution has brought me to a place where I can say I genuinely believe it is not consciously intentional (but is nevertheless strategic).]

In case you haven’t noticed, this story is about me.

See, I bought the church deal based on my own flawed grid and unmet needs.

Sure, churches should be held accountable for the doctrine they purvey if we as the congregation are going to consume.

But I alone am responsible for my own life and well being.

I gave away my power and wasted a lot of time punishing those who willingly took control of my life because I was too afraid to.

The only problem is they didn’t know they were being punished – it was all in my head.

And holding my mind, heart, and spirit hostage.

It’s like the proverbial adages about harboring unforgiveness: you know, holding the hot coal expecting someone else to get burned. Or drinking poison expecting someone else to die.

But this isn’t all about me.

It’s about a burning quest to heal myself first and foremost and a persistent passion to share what I hope will ultimately be a story of victory that empowers and inspires.

You see, it occurred to me (quite startlingly, actually) that shifting around the characters in this life drama (new job, new city, new gadgets, new clothes, new career, new love) yields the same results.

It’s window dressing.

Like what one of my aunts calls a whore’s bath: spraying perfume over a funk that, try as you might, just can’t be covered up.

I can’t end this story with a tidy solution packaged with a big red bow because it’s a work in progress.

But I am increasingly becoming OK with that.

As author Zora Neale Hurston puts it, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”

I am grateful for the nuggets of discovery God reveals with each layer uncovered because with each level of personal truth I embrace, I feel more authentic and closer to following my bliss.

So I thank you for sharing this journey with me – I don’t mind sharing if you don’t mind coming along.

And I do hope you feel empowered, inspired, and indeed victorious.

Can You Hear Me Now?

For a while now, I’ve been on roller skates between events for myself (still buzzing after last week’s HBCU Experience reading and Mr. SOUL! screening J) and rippin’ and runnin’ with activities for my daughter, Drew.

I think it finally caught up with me and I’ve been having a low-grade temper tantrum.

You know, like a low-grade fever.

Or at least I’m kind of on strike.

Many nights I’ve been in the bed snoring by 9p.

And you can forget full-fledged grocery shopping or cooking a decent meal.

That’s SO not me!

I think it’s more than needing a time out.

I think it’s perfecting my ability to listen to that Still Small Voice and do what It says!

So I decided it’s OK to say no and slow down.

I dug out some old CDs that sound new to me and I am enjoying the simple pleasure of good music.

I’ve turned off the TV and am reading all those books I’ve been meaning to get to but keep pushing to the side.

Maybe it’s God’s way of checking my receptivity, making sure I’m in a place where I can get a good signal, and asking, “Can you hear Me now?”

Like finding a place of inner respite. Or reconnecting with an old friend.

Once again I am reminded that I cannot give from an empty well.

Incidentally, I noticed my daughter didn’t starve, the house didn’t burn down, and the world didn’t stop spinning.

So this week, I’m taking the advice of my Sister Friend Homegirl Dr. Argie Allen who always encourages us all to be thankful (smile) and let us all know that today, she is wisely taking a day to exhale. She notes, “Living in this very busy world where every day is so fast paced, we all need to just get away to relax, reflect, restore, and revive ourselves!”

While I can’t take a no-holds-barred Mental Health Day today, I will, as Dr. Argie also notes, at least find time to exhale on purpose J

Bridging the Gap with Love, Peace, and SOUL!

This past week I had the honor and pleasure of reading an excerpt from HBCU Experience – The Book at an event that promoted this historic project as well as the screening of a monumental film documentary titled, Mr. SOUL! The Movie.

I LOVED it!

Not only because it felt like I was taking concrete steps toward making my dream of becoming a writer come true, but because I had the distinct feeling that I am part of a movement. Indeed it is a renaissance of substance in our hearts, minds, and souls that is bringing our rich legacy back to life.

HBCU Experience – The Book is the brainchild of Howard University Professor Dr. Tia Tyree and Howard University alum Christopher Cathcart. These two communications titans (along with many others, I’m sure) believe it is important to document the historically black college and university (HBCU) experience through the eyes of students and alumni because, “[HBCUs] have a rich legacy in the United States and [the] graduates of these institutions have made and continue to make major contributions to the history and climate of this country.” (www.blackcollegebook.com)

When I told my delightful teenage daughter of my contribution to project, she wanted to know why I felt this book was so important.

I had to point out – and remember myself - that the so-called majority culture has clearly defined what the college experience looks like and that it is an assumed experience we all accept and, at times, celebrate.

But, I reminded her - and myself – that that’s not the only way to experience higher learning.

Unfortunately, the larger culture isn’t as aware of HBCUs and our own community has not done the best job promoting or preserving their value and significance.

I also had to remind her that at one time, HBCUs were the primary, if not only, vehicle by which proud, intelligent, gifted, and talented African Americans could plot a future of their own.

Similarly, the screening of Mr. SOUL! The Movie was the perfect pairing to HBCU Experience, much like a good wine complements the perfect meal.

Kudos belongs to Melissa Haizlip, niece of creator and host Ellis Haizlip, who has worked diligently to bring this treasure to the fore. Mr. SOUL!, dubbed the first Black Tonight Show, harnessed the tenor and tone of what was stirring in the Black community in the late 60’s / early 70’s by showcasing not only the exquisite artistic talent in the African American community but our intellectual prowess as well as our supreme beauty and diversity. It wasn’t given its due and lost its fight to remain on PBS but is indeed priceless.

I simply cannot get enough of this film and my heart swells with pride each time I see it.

I am mesmerized by discussions with a young Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, James Baldwin, and Nikki Giovanni, as well as debut performances by the likes of Earth, Wind, and Fire, Stevie Wonder, Miriam Makeba, and Donny Hathaway.

I find it particularly rewarding to share these images and experiences with my teenage daughter, who has the power and the best opportunity to not only become aware of this movement but to propel it forward and make it stick.

Like most teens, she walks around with her iPhone stuck to her ears blasting all kinds of music. And, like most parents of teens, I have had to put forth some effort to bridge the gap between my culture and what has now become the norm.

Thanks to her, I have learned to recognize Drizzy Drake’s The Motto and the very old Fancy (my ringtone on her phone, by the way). And, in spite of my resistance and mixed emotions, I admit I still like Pretty Boy Swag by Soulja Boy.

Nevertheless, I smile when I hear some Earth, Wind, and Fire and Stevie Wonder sneak out of the headphones while she sings the lyrics.

Here’s a quintessential bridging the gap moment:

When we lost spoken word pioneer Gil Scott-Heron, my daughter was devastated. “You mean The Revolution Will Not Be Televised?” she asked incredulously. She was almost as upset as if Drake had met his Maker (almost).

But the ultimate was when in that same year, the BET Awards paid homage to Brother Gil with Queen Latifah reciting a verse or two of the iconic Revolution. My daughter was visiting her grandmother out of town but made sure to call me so we could watch it together. (And The Queen killed it!)

You see, when she was a little thing, I taught her to sing this song with her fist in the air because I wanted her to know that there were rappers back in the day who could spit rhymes about positive, uplifting issues that were empowering and sounded good.

And before we bemoan the mindset and preferences of our current generation, it is incumbent upon us to take a look at the proverbial man / woman in the mirror.

They did not arrive at this place in a vacuum.

And trust me - this is not about me being the model parent by a long-shot. I shudder to think that she may emulate some of my missteps. But I hope the good will outweigh the bad.

So here’s my Two Cents by way of a shout-out:

I thank you, Dr. Tia Tyree, tenured Howard University Professor; Christopher Cathcart, Distinguished Howard University classmate, alum, and friend; and Melissa Haizlip, history preserver and film maker extraordinaire. Your efforts are bridging the gap between what was, what is, and what will be. Thanks to you, we got us a new revolution that is not only being televised, but is being told, written, filmed, Facebooked, and Tweeted!

I’m a witness.

Everything Happens For a Reason

It has not been lost on me that lately my house is becoming the afterschool hub and in‑case-of-an-emergency way station. Since I am blessed to work from home, I often get, “Mother Allison, can so-and-so come over since his mom is running late?” or “It’s raining and (insert girl child’s name) doesn’t want to walk home and get her hair messed up.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it!

You see, you don’t know how grateful I am that my awesome teenage daughter has found her niche in an activity she enjoys (basketball) and that she feels comfortable enough to encourage her friends to come over - any parent of a teenager will tell you what a blessing that is)!

Just a few weeks ago, we were Spring Break Central with more than one child camping out. And I remember glowing inwardly when a couple of months ago, three basketball players (my child included) hovered on my doorstep in search of pizza while waiting for a late practice to begin.

Anyway, Wednesday was one of those way station days.

Four stray children showed up on my doorstep in the rain when only one was expected.

The only problem was we on our way out the door to basketball training.

So I scramble around for snacks and say, “We got eight minutes, crew.”

But everything happens for a reason.

It just so happened that I had to run one of them back to the school which worked out for the best since my child needed her basketball togs which she just so happened to leave in her locker.

But alas - she couldn’t get them which meant she did not have the proper gear for training.

Then it just so happened that we then had to take a different friend home which means we ran into horrendous traffic at the height of rush hour in the rain.

Do you see a pattern here?

When we did finally arrive at basketball training, we discovered that our make-shift basketball gear had a major malfunction.

So I say, “OK, here are the options: tell the coach you have to leave (which you know he ain’t goin’ for); run to the store, which will only give you a quick hour or so for practice (which you know he ain’t goin’ for); or make do.”

Option three won.

I went on to my normal routine of entertaining myself for an hour and a half or so only to return to a benched player with a golf-sized ankle bone propped up on ice.

Turns out that the missing basketball togs included missing basketball shoes which means my child uses two-year-old track shoes instead.

Major ankle roll on a previously broken ankle.

Ugh!

But it just so happened that we were close to an urgent care center that just so happened to have an opening in 15 minutes.

The next day I get up at the crack of dawn to make a follow-up appointment with the orthopedic specialist who just so happens to serve most of the athletes in our school district and who already knows many of the coaches at our high school.

How awesomely amazing is God’s care of us? He / She is always in the details and I am finally learning not to be surprised.

So get this: how about my Gratitude-on-Steroids Experiment with The Magic by Rhonda Byrne ended Wednesday?

Coincidence?

Not likely.

Everything happens for a reason.

I wasn’t quite sure how to document the results of my experiment and was really sad to see it end. But I found this eventful, if not comical, 48 hours particularly fitting.

Could it be that my increased awareness of all the many blessings in my life have conspired to orchestrate serendipities I could never have imagined?

Like how I just so happened to have a meeting with a good friend I hadn’t seen in years who just so happened to know this basketball coach renowned for transforming junior varsity players into varsity players. And how this was an intention my child set for herself, unbeknownst to me.

So this is how I will document the results of my 28-day Gratitude-on-Steroids Experiment:

It seems to me that gratitude met with intention meets with miraculous manifestation.

You make the call.

But I know the answer.

Digging Deeper

OK, so your favorite blogger – Her Nerdy Wordiness – has been holding out on you.

I have not only been practicing gratitude with Rhonda Byrne’s The Magic but also Calling in ”The One”.

Let me explain.

In 2004, one of my sister friends convinced me to meet her at a workshop at 9am on a Saturday when I was not on Mommy Duty.

Now you know.

En route, however, she called to tell me that the workshop had been cancelled (!) but all was not lost! “Turn on WHUR,” she said, “You just gotta hear this author on the Audrey Chapman Show!”

Are you kidding me?

So I obliged her and was introduced to Katherine Woodward Thomas, author of Calling in “The One”.

According to Miss Katherine and my sister friend, if we followed the course outlined in her book, The One would appear in a mere seven weeks.

So instead of our original plan, my sister friend and I high-tailed it to Borders in Bowie (so miss that place!) only to find the last two copies of Calling in “The One” on the shelf, side-by-side, waiting just for us.

As it turned out, the Calling in The One process was more about developing an authentic spiritual life and practice in order to clear out anything that may be blocking love from one’s life than just turning a frog into a prince.

This was right on time for me because I was beginning to redefine spirituality and a practical relationship with the divine and found this book to be profoundly helpful.

What’s more, I thought this process was successful because – lo and behold - my second husband appeared by the end of that year. It took a bit longer than seven weeks but still. (By the way, he also disappeared a few short months later but that’s another blog for another time.)

As a budding networker and writer, I began emailing Miss Katherine with details about my Calling in The One experience. And not long after that, she spoke at Unity of Washington, DC and I got to meet her! Yet another serendipitous link in the golden chain I call this magnificent journey as Unity is now my church - her talk and book signing were my first visit.

So fast-forward eight years to now and here I am, rearranging the clutter, I mean cleaning up my room, which always includes re-shelving stray books. That’s when my eyes landed on Calling in “The One”. For some unknown reason, I picked it up – you know, just for kicks.

As I began to leaf through its very tattered and marked-up pages, a lesson on meditation fell open on my lap.

It struck a chord with me as I realized that everywhere I go, this meditation / going within theme appears. And I remembered that, for me, the Calling in The One process was more about spiritual connection than manifesting the man of my dreams.

So maybe this is a course worth revisiting?

Come on, God, really?

I sat on that one for several days because I know me - when I embark on these major self improvement projects, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, I become fraught with anxiety.

But this time felt different.

I can honestly say that I really “get” that a satisfying life is about so much more than romance. I don’t have to “fix” myself to manifest a far-off happiness somewhere down the road. I just have to focus on loving and accepting myself as I am and believe that I am worthy and deserving of all that I want. At the same time, I gently nudge myself toward that reality by celebrating all of my epiphanies and victories along the way.

In Lesson 2, Miss Katherine notes the unfortunate separation our culture insists on maintaining between romantic love and agape or neighborly love. But, she notes, “…while romantic love does have the benefit of hormones and biological urges to enhance its allure, the qualities that make up a loving relationship are the same whether we love our friend, our sister, our student, or our husband. Compassion, generosity, and kindness transcend gender, title, or the form of a relationship.”

Just the other day I remember watching Oprah’s Life Class where she and T.D. Jakes were both encouraging an audience member to “see” an unexpected life twist that seemed to bring her nothing but pain and frustration as a profound opportunity to share and receive love, fulfillment, and purpose. As Oprah noted, we all look for love when it’s often right in our backyard.

And see that’s where gratitude comes in. It occurs to me that even if The One was here right now, my day-to-day would not become vastly different or somehow complete because I already focus on all that is good and choose to feel grateful and happy for it.

As author Gregg Baden posted on his Facebook timeline this fine morning, “Happiness is not a destination; it is a way of life.” (Author unknown)

Gotta love this synchronistic way of living J

So, as you can see, I did recommit to Calling in “The One”. My practice for the past few weeks has been to wake up being grateful with Miss Rhonda and go to sleep making room for love with Miss Katherine.

But this go ‘round I’m taking my time and going with the flow.

I don’t care if it takes seven weeks or seven months – the objective is an ongoing unfolding. My focus is on letting go of anything in my past that could be holding me back from the life of my dreams.

And I’m not terribly concerned about The One showing up. That’s because whenever I get antsy, I remind myself to surrender. I remember that my life is truly in God’s hands and to trust the process. I know that the desires of my heart will appear as I focus on the blessings I have and give thanks for all I want as though it’s already here.

Because, in the Spirit, it is.

P.S. I’ll let you in on a little secret – The One is in my June “I-Got-Mail” New Year’s Eve letter. Gotta love 2012 J