Thee Spiritual Dynamic
Love Letters to the Souls of Humanity
DREAMS
God is the mender of broken dreams & like the fragments of bread that he asked the apostles to gather into baskets, God is asking us to REMEMBER our broken & delayed dreams. He is gathering all of our shattered pieces from the ground & putting them back together again. It's like the puzzle that ...
DREAMS
God is the mender of broken dreams & like the fragments of bread that he asked the apostles to gather into baskets, God is asking us to REMEMBER our broken & delayed dreams. He is gathering all of our shattered pieces from the ground & putting them back together again. It's like the puzzle that we never completed as a child because
we became so frustrated at the difficulty and the duration of the process. The picture on the box only showed the glory of the completed puzzle. Nowhere was it explained how long it might take to complete or the level of difficulty involved, and no one thinks to ask because starting the puzzle is always so much fun. To embark upon a new adventure is a delight to the courageous soul. There is so much hope to achieve what you've seen on the cover of the box. However, with each passing day, impatience begins to creep in, frustration builds, and the process drags on. Eventually, hope begins to wane. Before you know it, the picture on the cover of the box has lost its luster and completing the puzzle feels virtually impossible. With every passing day, we go less often to the table where the unfinished puzzle remains. Finally, we stop going to the table altogether. What follows? We're off to a new dream, pursuing a new vision - even if that means someone else's vision for our lives.
Don't abandon your dreams...Recapture the vision God gave YOU!!! and Never abort the mission.
WOMEN
I stand as an advocate, a spiritual vigilante, if you will, for the rights of women who have no voice (at present), but they hunger and thirst for their voices to be heard. A universal cry is what rings out - from the grey haired woman to little girls, from the atheist, to the Buddhist, to the...
WOMEN
I stand as an advocate, a spiritual vigilante, if you will, for the rights of women who have no voice (at present), but they hunger and thirst for their voices to be heard. A universal cry is what rings out - from the grey haired woman to little girls, from the atheist, to the Buddhist, to the Muslim, to the Christian, there is a wail that is common and longs to be heard... And I am here, drenched from head to toe, with your tears and your messages. Some voices made silent, even cry out from the grave - their blood, spilled into the soil, has reached my Father's ears - therefore, it has reached mine. So, I have made myself available to do and say what others cannot - No Matter the cost. My heart is open and bold on your behalf as NOW is the time for FREEDOM. Go, make you ready.
RESOLVE
Enough already about foolish arguments and endless speculations - that's too... My desire is to shift the focus of my lens outward and directly into the world - a world that is quickly changing around us. People are running in mass states of confusion, frustration, and pandemonium not knowing h...
RESOLVE
Enough already about foolish arguments and endless speculations - that's too... My desire is to shift the focus of my lens outward and directly into the world - a world that is quickly changing around us. People are running in mass states of confusion, frustration, and pandemonium not knowing how to bring a calm and order to it all. To all our shame, black men and women are being slaughtered in the street, as if for sport, and the year is 2017. Conversely, here I sit in a beauty salon, so far removed from the "reality of brutality," as my daughter is being pampered with a relaxing mani-pedi. It's a lovely, 80 degree day, the sky's a jordy blue, and ever since we stepped into the place it's been all smiles. A warm, Vietnamese couple simultaneously work on my baby's adolescent hands and feet while I wonder where all the time went. She is no longer small, I realize, as I admire her long, shapely, mahogany legs that will soon be poised behind the wheel of a car, independent of me. This thought suddenly grips my heart with fear as I digress from the salon and find myself riding shotgun with Sandra Bland, opening the door with Yvette Smith, outside with Tamir Rice, in the back of a van with Freddie Gray and in the middle of the road with Terence Crutcher. The list goes on and on as I observe the confrontation between my sisters, my brothers and the thugs, who've been perpetrating as officers of the law. These thugs, enticed and lured into a false sense of superiority, make a mockery of the law. They do not see that they have become the perpetrators, disolving into the very thing that they hate - the criminal mind. As the tension rises, I drift again, not far, to a black woman in handcuffs. She has legs like my daughter. She is the same age as my daughter. She has black skin like my daughter.
The wide shot in my mind reveals an aqua blue pool where a white palm is smashing a black face to the ground, shattering my lens. Through the broken pieces of glass, I see the girl in a bikini, who has now made headline news. She's being assaulted by an officer of the law-a man who took an oath to "protect and serve." I feel a lump rising in my throat and I can barely breath or see through the tears. A sigh of relief comes as I find myself back in the present, back in my comfy seat at the salon and gazing at my daughter's cinnamon skin. However, as much as I want to disconnect, I wonder; how do I protect her? These anxious thoughts begin binding me up like vines, pinning me to the trunk of a large oak. My own mind has quickly made me prey, and I have allowed it. I knew better than to let it wander without spiritual supervision or without apprehending these renegade thoughts. For many months now, the media has been bombarding us with images and sounds of black men and women being murdered in the streets. Those images linger and circle around us like wolves, waiting to seize our imagination and destroy us between the vines.This mother-daughter outing, initially so beautiful, has been suddenly sabotaged by fear. However, I refuse to make it feel at home within me, and I refuse to return evil for evil - adopting an eye for an eye, tooth for tooth mentality. Instead, I start thumbing through my daughter's summer reading material and try to guide my mind back towards peace. Then, lo and behold, out of that jordy blue, I see these words: "Fondly do we hope-fervently do we pray- that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away...With malice toward none; with charity for all." These words lifted off the page and formed a sharp blade, which began cutting through the vines that had me bound only moments before. Suddenly, I was set free and the fear was no longer present. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly we forget...NOTHING is stronger than LOVE...NOTHING; loving words, loving thoughts, loving actions. With that moment of truth, I closed my daughter's book and resolved to fight this war with the wisdom and the love of God. Nothing else is strong enough to keep the wolves away. Nothing else is sharp enough to cut through the vines. Therefore, "fondly do [I] hope, fervently do [I] pray-that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away."
BROKEN
It feels like yesterday
and yet it's been eight years since you knocked upon my door.
So many times before I thought I might have heard something -
a gentle rap followed by a soft voice. But I chose to keep moving, keep busy - preoccupy myself with people and things and dreams...bitter realiti...
BROKEN
It feels like yesterday
and yet it's been eight years since you knocked upon my door.
So many times before I thought I might have heard something -
a gentle rap followed by a soft voice. But I chose to keep moving, keep busy - preoccupy myself with people and things and dreams...bitter realities, false senses of security, illusions of perfection, procrastination, disingenuous love
and bottled solutions taking me only so high.
I was living the life of a fictitious woman -
the woman I had become.
Finally, the day came -
a beautiful summer day, when I walked into the sanctuary BROKEN,
but not admitting it -
Still smiling at the crowd, still posing in the mirror, still conversing with friends
about incremental and monumental gains in my life -
All the while my tongue feeling thick and heavy -
incessant throbbing between my ears as if my mind was angry at the thought of sending me words to spew out for no reason and piercing no one.
I was so tired, but still fighting my sleep -
so conscious of time, which I had concluded was my enemy.
It was a little after 2 o'clock and I sat within the first pews, waiting for the crowd to leave. I was waiting for something to happen -
wanting something to overcome me and bring me to a place where peace
would finally prevail and cast a glow about me,
inviting others to inquire about the freedom in my life
or about the ability to lay hold of peace in the middle of a storm,
experiencing the blessing of closing my eyes and truly resting -
not worrying about tomorrow or anything that happened "today."
So I began to pray softly, silently to myself as I heard others being prayed for
about sickness and substance abuse, finances and forgiveness.
The hard oak pews had begun to make my thighs and behind ache for sitting so long,
but I continued to dig deeper for answers about deliverance.
I wanted freedom from all the years of putting on a jovial face
while I was dying inside -
so many years of "living" life where lies abounded so I could hide.
At last,
it was as if something began to divide within me -
the separation of lies from truth, dark from light, clean from tainted, pretense vs. reality of who I was and what I had become. As this was shown to me,
I began to cry as if I had had tears stored up in what were now freshly punctured barrels. Then, I felt someone take my hand as I continued to cry out to God and thank Him
for His mercy and His forgiveness, His LOVE and PROTECTION,
especially throughout all the years that I chose to ignore His Knock -
ignore His Voice, calling me from the only life I knew.
Here He was offering me THE BEST LIFE -
silencing that persistent question in my mind: "Is this all there is?!?"
Boyfriends with empty promises, pockets with holes,
momentary highs upon sexual plateaus??? Lying out at the beach,
shopping, eating, drinking, dreaming -
my moods changing by the hour, sometimes by the minute...
I opened my eyes to see the woman who had begun to lead me up to the front of the altar. She stopped at the first pew and released my hand. Then, she stepped in front of me and began to pray with her hand raised above my forehead. I stared at her moist palm as she prayed for me and as I prayed quietly for myself.
Suddenly, I felt this warm wind blow inside my body.
I had no idea what was happening to me. All I knew was that the sensation was
gentle and powerful at the same time -
So amazingly gentle that all I could do was envision my body falling onto a bed of billowy, white clouds -
So powerful that it blew me down, but I had no desire to break my fall -
No desire to reach out for support. It was as if I floated there, peacefully , feeling the contrast of my warm body against the cold floor as tears flowed from my eyes into my hair.
It felt like LOVE, itself, had actually stepped outside of our intellectual definitions;
it was no longer simply a word we toss around in poems or sing about in music -
For Love, in that moment, had wrapped HIMSELF around my body and come to dwell within me.
PROCRASTINATOR
Even now, after six long years, the thought of Mary Ellen overwhelms me. As I reminisce on what a lovely woman she was, I am simultaneously reminded of her death and how negligence and procrastination hindered me from keeping my word.
Mary Ellen was the first and only boss I ever ...
PROCRASTINATOR
Even now, after six long years, the thought of Mary Ellen overwhelms me. As I reminisce on what a lovely woman she was, I am simultaneously reminded of her death and how negligence and procrastination hindered me from keeping my word.
Mary Ellen was the first and only boss I ever loved and respected. She was a tall, blond-haired woman in her mid-fifties who possessed the vitality and enthusiasm of a teenage girl. Her personality was so warm and inviting that it always left me wanting to be in her presence just a little while longer. When she smiled, I could feel her sincerity. In fact, it is that same smile that's visible in a photo taken at my wedding.
I can vividly recall the day that I became the receptionist at her court-reporting firm. I was apprehensive about meeting her after hearing that she was not only the head person in charge, but the owner of the firm as well. In my mind, this translated into ONE thing: a superiority complex.
Every administrative job I'd ever had left me with tainted images of my "Superiors." My bosses repeatedly turned out to be condescending individuals who reveled in creating an atmosphere of supposed class distinction between management and administration. I had experienced, firsthand, what it was like to be reprimanded over a PA system, while the clients and I stood mortified in the lobby. I know how awkward it feels to ask that the assignments for the day be placed ON my desk and not tossed onto the floor!
Yes, quickly I discovered that Mary Ellen was not a replica of any of these early experiences, but a welcomed breath of fresh air. Unlike her peers, it was natural for her to speak to me and inquire about my life outside of work, as opposed to just stopping by my desk to pick up messages. At her request, I was included in the monthly office meetings and birthday celebrations - this caused quite a stir! Because of Mary Ellen's recommendation, the arduous task of finding someone to relieve me for bathroom breaks was eliminated. Yet and still, one of her most significant impacts on my life, one from which I am still reaping its fruit, was her offering ME the opportunity to expand my knowledge of the business, which eventually led to a promotion. Mary Ellen's integrity reminded me of things big and small that should never be tolerated - things which I had once desired to challenge, but over time lost my passion to do so.
For these reasons, upon so many others, my heart feels heavy at the thought of her. So, the question is: "why didn't I keep my promise concerning her?!" I had said over and over in my mind that even though I'd found another job that I would ALWAYS stay in touch. I can hear myself saying, "I've got to call Mary Ellen and tell her how well everything's going at my new job! - tell her how much fun I'm having being married!! - tell her how beautiful it is to bring a child into the world with someone you love!!! - tell her how much I enjoy being a mom and how I look forward to her seeing the beautiful son God gave us!!!! Finally, I wanted to share how much I learned from her, particularly how you can be an astute businesswoman, with authority, and yet behave as if you have none. This amazing woman, of such impeccable character, knew how to stand up for what she believed in, EVEN if it created some waves. The difference was, she did it with a smile.
So again, the question returns to me, weighing heavily on my heart: "Why didn't you just go visit like you said you would?!?!" And then..., reverberating softly in my ears, the answer comes back: "because I thought I would always have 'TOMORROW.'"
SUICIDE
There was a time when I prayed for death. I wanted it to wash over me like a wave, 'til I was floating in the midst of it - knowing nothing, seeing nothing, and most importantly, feeling nothing. I needed the pain to completely subside and put an end to the Voices, which had begun to torment me...
SUICIDE
There was a time when I prayed for death. I wanted it to wash over me like a wave, 'til I was floating in the midst of it - knowing nothing, seeing nothing, and most importantly, feeling nothing. I needed the pain to completely subside and put an end to the Voices, which had begun to torment me around the clock, telling me that my only path to peace was through my own death. So I decided to take matters into my own hands - bring some "peace" to the situation, and I remember reciting these words over and over in my mind, "I resign, I resign, I resign," as I plotted to take my own life.
But, this was not a spirit I began battling in my adult life - No. It began early in my childhood - imagine that. There was this dichotomous split between the little girl who wanted to live and the "other me," who would try and cut side deals with our Creator to "just kill me." Obviously, since this is current day and I am present to write this letter to you, then God, Our Father, whom I used to affectionately call, "my little goddy," thankfully did not oblige; He had already allowed the killing of His own Son instead - for you and me, but we'll leave that discussion for another time.
As a little girl, I saw God as this pint size person whom I loved and cared for dearly, like He was my own child. Wherever we'd go, I invited little goddy to ride shotgun as we climbed into the backseat of my parents car and talked about everything, even how they got along (my mom, at first, was a bit concerned about these conversations). No matter, God became my best friend. I enjoyed Him even more than my imaginary mates because, unlike them, He could play with me in my dreams - we even rode a roller coaster together. How COOL is that ?!?!?!
Anyway, God knew things, cool things, which He'd share with me. I believed they were mysterious secrets about life, so I always imagined I was a bit like Bond, but better.
Now, in order for me to paint a more complete picture of the darkness with which we first began, I need for you to understand that my life originated in light. In fact, it was akin to being bathed in it; I woke, slept, played, prayed, thanked, and sang to God. Remember this was my BFF; I asked Him to let me brush His hair...He taught me how to fly in my sleep - away from the bad guys...He let me look into His firey red eyes in my dreams and I listened to His voice tell me secret things while He, in turn, listened to ME! Yes, my childhood holds many beautiful memories of our time together. So, for the life of me, I could not reconcile how SUDDENLY, this suicidal nemesis from without could find its way within - making me want to do things that "the Spirit of me would cry for." What door had been opened? By whom? Was there an actual "door" ajar (within me), leaving me vulnerable to this mental, spiritual attack?!?! Where did it come from? Was it my parents occasional drama leaving its mark? And finally, do I tell anyone?!?!......"No," I heard the voice say, "people will think you're crazy... Anyway, you're stronger than that. Just say some prayers and you'll be fine - think positive." So, I kept smiling.
Years passed and there I was doing life my way, but INSIDE I was battling something that was completely nonsensical. Two minds were facing off, contending for the rise and fall of the same life: MINE. The circumstances ranged from failing a test in school to something much weightier, like the breaking of my heart. Nevertheless, there were "triggers," and when they went off, the voices would resound - even my own voice seem to join "the party," and blamed me for everything that wasn't PERFECT.
But wait, there's more....
# The Takeover, L.D.
PASSION
Like an old, dear friend who remained absent for awhile but never forgot the relationship...I'm back. It has been a long year of silence - a year since my last letter to you, and it's time that we rekindle the fire. My voice is eager to reach your ears and deposit some excellent things into you...
PASSION
Like an old, dear friend who remained absent for awhile but never forgot the relationship...I'm back. It has been a long year of silence - a year since my last letter to you, and it's time that we rekindle the fire. My voice is eager to reach your ears and deposit some excellent things into your heart. Are you ready? I've said before, "keep your candles lit and STAY ALERT...until we meet again." As I understand the power of the Law that governs our hearts, I know that whatever is stored within it, in abundance, will certainly flow from our lips. Beyond our lips, our words pour forth and swiftly become actions. Armed with this knowledge, I am compelled to share with you how IMPERATIVE it is to keep your heart cleansed. Purify and purge it, daily, from every toxic thought, for out of it flow the issues of life. Too many unsuspecting souls have not yet grasped the power that lies within their very own tongues, although they use it everyday. I pray that you understand the influence and weight of your words and begin to establish boundaries for your heart, understanding that "out of an abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks." Whatever lays heavily on your heart, the things you've done - however long past they are, confess them quickly and be set free. There is no amount of earthly treasure that can satisfy like a pure heart... one that's been cleansed of guilt and demons of the past. Pour your confessions out to God as deliberately and as quickly as you would empty out a dirty cup before putting it to your lips. Confessing is cleansing. Admitting is redeeming. It is TRUTH, flowing from our hearts and falling from our lips, in all sincerity, that ushers in the Lord's warm water. God stands waiting to wash you clean, from the inside out, to deliver you from all that's hidden and all that you thought could never be redeemed. Behold, He makes ALL THINGS NEW. Lay your shame at His feet. He's been waiting for you.