Am I Ready For Love?

"I'd quickly give my freedom/To be held in your captivity/I am ready for love/All of the joy and the pain/And all the time that it takes/Just to stay in your good grace"

India.Arie, "Ready For Love" 

I've always asked myself if I knew what it means to love someone. I mean, I thought I did. When I was with my daughter's father (a topic that I have yet to touch on and I doubt that I ever will, at least not on here), I thought I loved him. I know that I was willing to give quite a bit of myself to ensure that we were happy and secure in whatever or wherever we did. And I suppose that, in some small form, I did indeed, love him, in whatever I thought love was at that time. (So maybe I will touch on it, a little.) I know that at the time, what I thought was mature was far from it. We were two people, having great sex that we confused to be love fighting to be on the same wavelength, forcing square pegs into round holes. A beautiful child resulted from this Samson and Goliath fight - a child that I thank God for every day - and that is probably the only the good thing that came of that battle. 

Wait. I'm being unfair. That's not exactly true. The warrior scars that I received from that fight taught me many things. It taught me that my instincts are intense and powerful and that I should trust them. It taught me that when someone tells you who they are, believe them. It taught me that I need to be with a Caribbean man if I am ever to be with someone permanently. (I'm sorry, American/other men!) It taught me many things. The most important thing it taught me - part of the reason for this particular blog - is that I don't know what love truly is.

So to backpedal a little. This morning, headed to work, I hop on the train as usual, throw my Skull Candy in my ears, and open up my iPod on my phone to determine what I am going to sleep listen to on my way in. I had downloaded India.Arie's first album recently because I heard it in one of my good friend's cars and I figured it'd be a good addition to my ITunes. I knew that the song "Ready for Love" was on there, I had heard it before, and thought it was an intensely beautiful song. This morning, as usual, I fell asleep listened to music until about two stops before I had to get off. When I woke up, "Ready for Love" was playing. I debated skipping the song - it had a tendency to make me emotional and I wasn't really digging that - but I decided to let it rock for the moment. 

When I tell all yuh that it smacked me in the face this dreary morning...

I mean, it really hit me. Hard. I realized why it made me so emotional every time I heard it. It wasn't because I was ready and was just ready to soak up all this love. It was because I wasn't ready. I mean, really. I thought I was ready for everything that love had to offer.  But I'm not! I don't even think I know what love is. I'm very serious. If you take a moment to read/listen to the words to this song, you'll understand my sudden epiphany. I'm not even sure how to express how I feel about this. It's so odd. I'll be working this newest self discovery about me out in several forthcoming blogs. 

But now I ask you: what is love to you? Do you think that love is as intense and fulfilling as India.Arie puts it? When did you know that you were ready to love and be loved?

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Use Your Words

Scene: You're sitting in your room, stressing. Looking at the ceiling in your room. Wondering why you can't just call and say what's on your mind. You stare at your phone. You put it away. You stare at the ceiling again. Next thing you know...the thing you want most has passed you by and now you mad.

Curtain Call. It's over for that. It's 2010. 

I know that sometimes, saying what's on your mind, depending on what's on your mind, can be really difficult to do. Heck, I know first hand that as vocal as I can be, I have myself been guilty of holding my tongue, afraid to say what's on my heart, for fear of what the other person may or may not say. And I don't even just mean romantically. Think about it. Your friend's in a rough spot, and you know this. But you don't know what to say to them. You hold on to your thoughts because you don't want to get involved, afraid that they'll think you're meddling. Or being a hater. Or whatever. Pick a popular phrase and put it here. 

I've been dealing with a lot of personal growth for quite some time, but particularly since I started my locs. And what I've realized is this: life is too short to be holding on to the negative energy that you hold on to by not saying what's on your mind. This is, of course, not to say that you automatically get a 'tactless' pass: you do not earn the right to be a jerk by saying what's on your mind. You should, however, say what's on your mind. 

In days gone by, people would call this "manning up". I'm sure the implication here is that not saying your mind is a 'soft' or effeminate thing. Or whatever. Lemme just tell all yuh...I know plenty of male punks. So I think that phrase is played. Over with. Done. 

So I keep this like I try to keep most things that we as humans try to complicate: simple and to the point. Use your words. This is what I will be saying from now on to anyone that has an opinion, wants to tell someone that they love them, thinks that their friend is making a mistake, has a family member that ain't living right, whatever. Life's just too short. It really is. And let's keep it all the way 100: if you can't tell the people you care about what you're thinking or how you're feeling, then why are they your friend/ride or die/homie/fam?

In closing, ladies and gentlemen, use your words. Don't let them run like hamsters around in your head. Figure out the best way to say whatever it is you need to say, and use your words. 

Now. Run forth and frolic. That is all. *wink*

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On to the Next One and all great songs in between

Isn't it amazing how music speaks to your life? Like, you ever hear a song and you get so lost in the lyrics and the music because it just sounded like whoever the songwriter was literally sat with you in your room while you devoured that mocha chip ice cream and listened to your tears ramble? Or caught you when you were daydreaming at dance school about using the wall for support because he was...

Oh. Maybe that's just how I feel about a good song.

I love music and I love listening to music. Many a time, even now as I write this, I am jamming to Alison Hinds' station on Pandora, with interpolations of Machel Montano. Two hours ago, my favorite 'Ayicien' and 'Puertorriqueno' man was serenading me and reminding me of my bad habits. Sigh.

I love music.

I have been finding more solace in music lately as I go on this journey of mine to continue becoming stronger in who I am. It's not easy sometimes. Even as I listen to Mr. Hammond sing about his Queen, I wonder who besides my baby girl sees me that way - as a Queen. I know I see me as a Queen, so that's really all that matters...but I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes wonder I held any value to others.

Earlier, I threw on Mr. S. Dot and felt my inner Brooklyn as I considered 'getting violent' - I hate being disrespected and after being blatantly disregarded, my rage was barely contained...Mr. Carter made me feel better, I just angrily spit his lyrics to myself and tried to breathe.

I know someone else has been there before.

The other day, when I was listening to Symptoms Unknown, I wondered where this song was when I was trying to figure out where my relationship went. Right now, Machel is making me wanna get 'pon de road an wuk up', and leave my cares behind. Music is my comfort zone and my panacea when things are good and when they are bad. It helps me sort out many things, especially when I don't feel like talking.

What do you do when you have a lot on your mind?

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