Category Archives: healing

healing practices, rituals, affirmations, meditations, mantras

creativity, healing

Meditation of Serenity and Power

Icons, heroines, mavericks like

Marsha P and Fannie Lou

We do this cuz of them

They did this for you

We give

Flowers to the Fearless

and middle fingers to the law

cuz it’s meant to trample us

and empower colonial empire

Where a few get tall on the

downfall of the many

So what’s the remedy?

What does it mean to care

for a neighbor in need

To be on the scene when times

are rough, and the kids are bleedin’

I need: empathy, compassion, a listening ear

I have: This body, my breath, all the time in the world

Breathe in, serenity

Breathe out, assuredness

Breathe in, protection

Breathe out, knowingness

How do we define these conflicts

Is it really us and them?

What makes us “us” to begin with

and why can’t they stand us?

Why can’t they stand with us

to rebuild this world

Nevertheless, here we stand

We, by our sides, pieces of humankind

remaking a liberation recipe:

safety, freedom, dignity, desire

Finding the highest quality ingredients

and

making due with what we have now

Author’s note: I found this poem searching through older journals, seeking to access wisdom from my past self. This comes from around June of 2023. Some of the language reminds me of sayings from Toni Morrison – her and Audre Lorde recently had a shared birthday, February 18th. This is dedicated to the legends and our lineages.

creativity, healing

One More For Tonight

And so, today is my WordPress Anniversary! Huzzah 😀

~~~~~

Just one more for tonight, I feel another one on my brain’s edge, toes curling the edge of the diving board, hyperventilating before the dive in.

I feel a fluttering about my companion. How she was activated and I, unaware. Her agitated and I laughing and enthused. Why, why was I laughing. Why couldn’t I be quiet.

Audre Lorde talks about the Transformation of Silence into Language and Action. Says those things which are not said will eat us alive. Our silence will not protect us. That it is in saying that we shape our action, rather than sit by passively in the face of our impending demise. Death is the final silence. So it is better to speak…

When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.

-Audre Lorde

Perfect love casts out fear. And if you must, do it afraid…

One day soon I’ll give attention to those matters that have been plaguing me, punching me in the teeth, angry and willing themselves to be seen.

These sounds, taking shape into an echoed whisper…

creativity, culture, healing

Age of Pleasure Tour 2023.

(My swirling mind… teased and titillated and triumphant and tearful and to’ up and tickled and t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t)

2.5 hours of BELTING

“Be present”

Impregnated

On the floor

Intoxicated

Inebriated

Incapacitated

Jubilant and overheated

Undoctrinated

Liberated

Elevated

Revolution

FREE ASS MOTHAFUCKAHS!!!

I can’t help but break into song

Upon remembrance of you…

Upon remembrance of what we did together

The moments we shared

Hallelujah

HALLELUJAH!

When I try to put words to my experience, my words fail me

And the soothing melodies flow

They sang me to a blissful end

Enraptured

Quickened

Awakened

Alive

I feel… grateful

I feel… stretched

I feel…sexy

I feel…flyyy

I feel…my feet on freedom’s road

A performance evoking the most wistful of poems

The most delirious of dreams

The cries and croons of a person so deeply infatuated a mere whiff of their ambrosia sends me overfull

How can I describe…what just happened?

I said ‘Oh my god’ as a babbling chant

Struck by… admiration, dedication, belonging, wholeness, fun, love, the magnitude of it all

Here we are, alive and living

In this present moment

Janelle performed their azz off, in, up, roundabout, into awards, into my heart, into the ceiling, the sky, the stratosphere, the nebula, the black star void…

What. A. Show.

What a production.

What an experience.

What an elevation.

What an inspiration.

What a man, what a man, what a man…

What a mighty good man

Oh baby

Their look impregnated me

My core is full and overflowing

There is a certain mistrust of our memory

Of our ability to retain all that we’ve experienced

The joyous moments

Can we recall – without video evidence? Without breadcrumbs to trace back?

And yet, Janelle called us into presence

Be here, with me

Be here, right now

We are not in the past, nor the future

We are here, now

We will always be in the now

So be with me, now

Her call beckons…

I answer.

Age of Pleasure Tour 2023.

creativity, culture, healing

AM I pregnant? I think I’m pregnant…

[Chapter I]

I need to take a pregnancy test…

I’m floating

We were on the floor, and at the tops of our lungs, on the tip tips of pink pink cloud dreams…

A dream?

A memory?

I woke up in a garden, the bees flitting in their playful and determined way. Flirtatious. Communal. These Free Ass Muhfuckas… We Free Ass Muhfuckahs!

Self love

A sustainable, abundant source of energy

Our joy

Our nectar

Our divine melodies

I feel feverish

Caught up in holy dances of the flesh, skin to skin sacrament, witnessing our rapturous delight

Us – you, me, they and ze

My lungs are full of air

To sing and scream and cheer and beckon you closer

My body aches with all this lovely lust

Touch me, smell me

A splash of fragrance

Dive in

The water feels fine

Download your memories into me

Sensual digital bite mark

And kisses all over my thighs

Ooooo

(Sigh)

We’ve got all night

Take your time

To feel

And be present

You are welcome

You are phenomal

And your pheromones are seductive

Succulent seductress

Aereola and nipples come to play

Washed away in this fever dream

Spent and giddy

We lounged in the meadows

Eschewing our responsibilities for another day

Today we play

Today we celebrate

We are here

We survived

Not everyone did

We are alive

And so it is

[Chapter II]

To the lives we lead…to the dream we chase…to the moments we gon make… and the FUCKED UP SHIT we can’t erase…ashé.

To our joy, ashé

To our dreams, realized – ashé

To being seen in the way we want to be seen – ashé

To loving who we want to love, how we want to love, ashé

Dance, cuz there ain’t nobody else in this bitch like you

I’m dizzy, drunk on your love, your lovely musk, your lovely you

I can’t think straight, and I don’t want to neither

We’re the QTs baby – that’s QUEER AND TRANS, BB

Better yet we the BLACK QTs BB

Church raised

Bosom fed

Hip gyrating

Crop top wearing

Sweaty

Shouty

Ohmigohdohmigohdohmigohd chanting

That mmmnnnghhhh

That oooooooouuuugghhhhhhh

That fuuuuuuuuuuuck yeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssss

That thigh clenchin’

Cheek wrenchin’

Grab my shit and bust me out

Real good, Good Good

All my bitches baddies

Riding with my bestie

Ain’t no stoppin’ us

Don’t you come for us

Best not try ya luck

We all for one

Raise your hands

Get lo

Real real lo

[Chapter III]

A glimpse of the taboo, dashing before us

Emerging from back rooms and hidden doors

May all your dreams come true, tonight

May all our dreams come true

Each chapter reveals a new facet

Revealing visionary dazzle, impressive and spectacular

Layers upon layers of oozing gooey chocolate

Fudgy and creamy and so so sweet

I may have a sweet tooth or two

Put it on my tongue

Dance across the room

There ain’t nobody else in this bitch like you

Rapture and rush

Crescendo and gushing waterfalls,

Stomach crunching, toe curling, oh my fuck yes here it comes

Flowing down your mouth

Dance with me

An invitation to sway together for a moment,

The present moment

All its pains and attractions and loudness beckoning – be here, be here now

In your body

With me

You had to be there…

[Chapter IV]

And we march on

Rods and rafts

Surfboards

Boogey woogey baby!

Scoop diddly woop, boom boom oh yeah

Ain’t nothin’ ever felt like this

Like your kisses

Like the way I blush when our eyes meet

Like the smell of fresh twisted locs brought me straight back to you

Nutty oils and cocoa creams that sat sweet in your cracks and crevices

Incredible

How the universe brought me to you

How we defied every odd, every oppressor that dared to stand before us, every wound we nursed, every scar we bore, ever whisper shared, every bellow from our guts, every creak, every groan, every sigh…

Everytime I think of you…

And I’m no longer there…

[Chapter V]

Starting and stopping, stooping,

Pass me some water?

We waxed ourselves silly

We laughed and howled and barked and sang sang sang til our lil hearts were full on love

Plenty of love here

Enough for us, all us

Ain’t nobody gettin’ left

We remembered all yall

Cuz all yall us

We all here, we all here

Got here by way of the ancestors and icons and legends and low hands and high brows raised, questionin’, askin’, darin’…

And the hands doin the graspin’ and searchin’ and pattin’ down

We had us some times mighty fine

A riotous righteous right ole good time

Sho nuff we did

And ain’t a one who can stop we

We be free

We the ones that be carryin’ on

We the ones ain’t got the good sense

We the ones them others ones whisper bout

Ain’t a one who can stop we

Sacred body, flushed, spent, aching, empty, in between, far beyond…

Mind, and spirit immaterial, so divine, and carnal

Walking contradiction guess I’m… blessed

No stress baby, no stress

I wanna put on my housedress and go to bed

Rub my feet

Drink my tea

Put on a soft melody to ease me to sleep

With you, it all feels like play and rest

Nevermind we just spent 2.5 hours belting at the tippy tops of our lungs

Vitality, energy, another day,

Living, breathing, waking, being

Free as the bees

Free as we bee

Put a lil honey in my cup

Lemme sip that nectar once more

Hydration for my parched tongue

Wet my lips, lubricate my insides

There’s enough to go once more

Leave it all open, written on your collar, in your funktrail, on your heartstrings

We

Are

We

Were

We

Forevermore

culture, healing

John Vietnam – JVN

“Could you give your life for the sake of another?”

That was my introduction to John Vietnam. Except, I knew John longer before I knew his story.

In 2018, I attended the Argyle Night Market where local performing artists from Andersonville, Edgewater, and Uptown performed for neighbors and friends. The crowd was friendly, offering encouragements to the emcees, djay, and bboys that took the stage. One performer’s opening really caught my attention. He said, “When the time came, could you give your life for the sake of another? That was John Vietnam – my friend, our brother.”

Over the course of the night those at the mic led us through chants to honor John’s legacy. John. Vietnam. John. Vietnam. JVN! JVN! But who was this young man being honored – and why does his legacy speak to me so?

The stage-crew began handing out various CDs. Being a fan of music, I wanted to see what it was about, but by the time I reached the front, all the CDs had been given away. A man saw me without, and reached out with a CD he’d just received in his hand. He said something to the effect of, “Here, you can have this. You probably need it more than I do.” I backed away a little, declining. “Really, have it.” Then, he biked away into the night. Emergence. I felt grateful that a stranger would see me and offer me a gift. I felt curious about this JVN and soon returned home too.

CD players were not easy to come by in 2018 – stereos were outdated, and laptops no longer hand built in players. Finding a way to play this CD in itself felt like a ritual. Emergence, the CD I’d been gifted, is a collection of unreleased and remixed songs curated and crafted by friends of John Vietnam post-humously. The 20 tracks paint a vivid picture of John’s philosophy and benevolent action of community building, love, and compassion for the afflicted and oppressed.

John was a young man defining himself in an existence between worlds. In his documentary, his friends tell of how he struggled and came to terms with his identity as a son of a Vietnamese mother and a white father who met during the Vietnam war. John’s legacy is rife with these connections out of contradiction. Rather than lament his difference, he used his power to build bridges and amplify voices of people on the margins.

John died saving a friend from drowning in 2012. “When the time came, could you give your life…?” In 2008, I had begun writing a short story with a similar premise – two lovers find respite on the beach, when one of them begins to drown, and the other jumps in to save her, not really knowing how to swim herself. The story continued on to follow their joint yet separated paths navigating life after death – one in the earthly realm, and the other in the spiritual realm.

Utada Hikaru’s Sanctuary was the theme song for this story, and more widely known as the theme song of the Kingdom Hearts series. Kingdom Hearts brings characters across the Disney franchise under one roof in fantastical adventure settings. In a similar way, I feel my story crosses paths with John Vietnam.

In 2019, I began writing lyrics and recording songs to instrumental tracks, seeing music as a way to heal, express, and creating loving community. Inspired by music’s transformative power, I was finally hooked when I saw a person (who I thought was timid) freestyling solo with a confidence and bravado that shook me. Everything I thought about this person came undone at the revelation of his emceeing ability. And so, I began to find the power of my voice through music, too.

John was a community activist who put his ideals for a better world into rhymes and clever wordplay. Many of his music videos are shot with the vibrant Uptown community where he lived featured in the background. John connected people living in different worlds, and his music continues to inspire people to live better lives.

While I never knew John, his story and the legacy of his life continue to deeply affect me. I hold his legacy – and the way he carried himself while on this earth – in high regard. His life is a reminder to me to live vivaciously, to savor every moment, to give freely, to be true to my word in spirit and in deed. It’s hard for me to express why this story resonates so profoundly with me… so hopefully, you feel it too. Words don’t need to describe what the heart intuitively knows.

I hope this blog post will give rise to a new generation of people that learn of John’s legacy and connect in their dedication to live honestly, truly, and with a heart of compassion.

Tonight, at the 2023 Argyle Night Market, I briefly met John’s mother. And what could be said of a loss so deep and intimate? Words failed me at that moment. I bought a book of his collected poems and a small laminated picture of him. Then, once home, I began writing this post in reflective homage while people outside drummed hip hop rhythms in the night air.

Rest in power, JVN. You are missed, but your spirit lives on.

creativity, healing

Sum poems…

These those poetic lines I wrote while listening to xo tour lliffeee…

Poem: Washing Away in the Waves / Carry On

Fraudsters and sheisters…

Who knows how to deal with despair so deep, and long lasting. A life of condemnation for crimes never committed. Undone innocence, drifting further into that charming abyss, a little further each time. Until the waves bid goodbye to the shoreline, and the undertow pulls just a bit more insistent: stay a while longer. And panic gives way to acceptance of this new home, a changed existence

@

Tippin on this ledge

D®ippin lo, catch & shuffle on

Cattle in the rail ropes

Into the grinder u go

Mama cow lost baby cow

Now they both burger bound

Steer with them horns

U already know where this go

Keep ridin to the cleaver

Leave little bits & pieces for u

to find your way to your own freedom

And one day, in an alternate timeline,

We are reunited and satisfy our revenge

:~~And a little addendum to my last post~~:

“Eyyy!?! It is you who will licentiously registrate! The unholy enemy will not succeed! You will not touch me!!!”

Penecostal Nimay Ndolo
healing, learning

there’s something poetic about

being here at the park, as youth play and dogs sniff around, coaches shout out and mothers carry on watching and chatting, the joggers jogging too, that I can be here, playing duckduckgo with death queries. there’s the icecream truck in the distance. i have two dollars but i thought i had four. or i have four dollars but i can only find two. either way, not enough for ice cream in the city. the kids are cursing. i dont perk up for those old time melodies the way i used to. now just a passive recognition – there goes the ice cream truck. in the city sometimes a paletier will cycle past. maybe i’ll find my other two dollars by then…

here i am, playing footsie with my death, wondering what it would cost to gaze into her eyes, entwine my hands in hers. just for a little while, before life called me onto other things – obligations, aspirations, and whtever else. what’s it all worth? a few moments lounging aside the path…

the breeze carries a chill today, even with the sun and its languishing heat, preparing to set, full in the sky. i mean, the heat feels weak, its a gentle heat for how bright the day is, how clear the sky is….

The icecream truck music got closer. I turned around and it was just across the street. I waved my hand to flag it down. He slowed. There was an African man driving. I barely caught sight of the truck in its old timey delapidated print. I asked him how much. “which one?” “Uh, bomb pop.” My gut churned a bit. A classic. My mom’s favorite. “Three dollars.” A digging in my sac I went.

Two school boys ran up to the icecream truck, wondering the same as me. “we have two dollars…” “I thought you said you had nine?!” “Can you cut us a deal?” “Man….” A digging I went. “Anything for a dollar?” Where were my two dollars? Nevertheless…

I went into the coin section of my wallet, pulled on some quarters. I hate spending quarters unless it’s for the laundry. An adultism I’ve acquired. “Can you count quarters?” “Yeah?!” I hand them 8. “She gave us two dollars! Thank you!” And silently split my two bills among them. “Thank you!!!”

I could return to the bench, but i swift away wordlessly, walking, walking… at least some of us should get ice cream.

Anyway I have ice cream at home.

Artisian vanilla bean, 2.99 at Marianos.

I realize I’m late to my zoom meeting. one i dont particularly want to go to. but I’m only just late for it. And I hear the ringing down here in the kitchen anyway. And my neighbor was nice enough to make sure I had the link, I should at least use it. I guess. One small gesture keeping me preoccupied from her lingering touches…

On days like this I start to narrate my day, a wee bit of separation between me and what I’m doing, a teeny bit of space to breathe past the bullshit. It’s therapeutic in a way. If I’m not me, if I’m not only me, if there’s more than me, maybe I have choices. Maybe I can notice me…

Besides, might as well have a good story to be remembered by. A curious character in the life of another. The vanishing benevolent figure. The stranger of little words.

Before the room clicks into its own mini fire… I suppose I’ll go. I suppose I’ll eat this icecream.

This is my dying.

@

(I passed my neighbor deboarding the bus, unnoticed, unmentioned in return… another neighbor passed by in the kitchen. unsaluted, unmentioned in return…)

“i want to die”

words from the survivors

“i feel death”

how are you? – deathly

better we didnt exchange pleasantries…

@

earlier today at the park, the sitters were playing their tunes. the first I heard was the song ‘lets straighten this out’. what a synchronicity. i wanted to go over to them, to pour out all my woes, to ask advice, for something, some safety while I had this small reprieve. But that would be weird. Disturbing the peace. I didn’t know these people. We were technically probably neighbors in all probability. Couldn’t we share this human moment, just once?

And so I sat with my quiet tears and slouched body, seeking comfort on a nearly unloungeable anti-homeless bench. 

Before I left, a kind and playful demon-esque being shared a few quips that perked me up. “Excuse me? *fist bump* Heyyy baybee… Haaaay baybeee!” A semi-sultry invitation to play, to be bright, perhaps to even smile. Austin Powers meets RuPaul. I can’t recall what they looked like really, but in my recollection I imagine lil Uzi Vert. Imagine, a lil uzi vert look alike semi-catcalling me, and me enjoying it. Even missing this character, mildly lamenting the missed connection. We truly are in alternate timelines. When a stranger is more present and knowing than family, when a well delivered catcall does more healing than anything else that day. So when I went home to my resonant hell dungeon, I played xo tour lliife on repeat, and wrote some poetic lines, and agreed to soothe myself with food. Then I ended up at the park once more. Reminding myself that I could stand to get my clothes a little dirty. I could stand to wear a bit of outside grime and funk. It wouldn’t kill me. Heh.

I think about where I’d even share this little story, this forbidden tryst with her. Probably on my lil blog. Nestled among unread posts. Well, one person did bother to read. That was nice. For some reason, the public obscurity makes me chuckle. For so long trying so hard not to be seen. Trust, it is no small feat to be recognized in this world. Staggering to my feet to check the car alarm that has been blaring a while now. A literal alarm, barely responded to. To think, people daily waking up – in annoyance, dreading the misery of waking life. Why must we be reminded of this existence we trod through. What can I do to get out of this?

I pour the last of my ice cream soup into my spoon, waiting on the logarithmic drips, and lick the last from the inner rim. 

“Ahhhh shit… here we go again.”

healing

Accepting Goodness

I’ve had trouble accepting goodness in my life. Either thinking I didn’t deserve it / hadn’t truly earned the goodness, or believing the goodness was fleeting and bound to leave. Fearing the loss, I shunned the experience of goodness in the first place.

Now, I am recognizing these habits and trying to accept these moments of happiness for what they are. To be present to the moment of bliss. To accept the warmth in my body. To accept the eventual loss of good things, and to realize I can create more good moments if I open myself to them. I am realizing the abundance of goodness, if only I would open myself to that experience. Yes, the loss hurts… and that’s okay. To grieve, to miss, to yearn. That moves us forward, too.

Affirmation: I am a human, issok to want to be wanted, recognition, all sorts of those things that mean I am connected to my humanity ❤

I was questioning my desires – not trusting my yearning. SO I had to tell myself, ‘Be happy with good things, okay? 😊 You can be loved just as you are. Imagine a good thing’ ❤

Accept goodness in your life today.

creativity, healing

Getting Into the Studio!!!

I’m preparing to work with Untold Stories Recording this week, and it’s very exciting. This will be my first time going to a recording studio and I’ve booked a few hours of studio time so we can get some summer singles down for release on all streaming! To help me prepare, my vocal teacher Vero Astala is coaching me through the process, from achieving the best techniques to get my sound rockin’ to recognizing my anxieties and getting my heart to calm down!

The affirmation in the featured post is a derivative of the pep talk Vero shared with me: ‘You already know what to do – so do what comes naturally and allow the universe to do the rest. Record the songs that bring you the most joy!’

Much love to Vero and Untold Stories – helping my art come alive!