Considering Courage #AlwaysUnCanceled

Writing about courage isn't a tough thing to do. I've already done it in this blog. I was telling yall about one of my sisters from a different mommie and mister, and well, I heard from her this week. She might be feeling some kind of way about things in her life right not, but she's doing it and feeling it, with all that courage she has.

Gratitude is Done. Hope has been checked off the list. There was laughter and humor. (I got some #Humor in with #GSB7daychallenges #SeriousBusiness). I even got a little inspired. Now it’s time we consider COURAGE.

I’ve often thought of courage, with the words one of those #tall runners shared with me #oaklandrelay #teamTallsAndSmalls … On taking writing seriously, she told me to do it afraid. Isn’t that the way with courage? A reaction to fear. Something scary happening to you, forcing you to be decided about your next course of action. I don’t like the person my fear reveals to me. She becomes this inanimate being, that watches the world move around her. And this week was no different.

I got (still have) a terrible sinus infection. A sister-friend’s grandmother passed. Shellie is mourning or grieving (or hell, I don’t know). And since the old folks used to say things happened in threes – I’m hoping that the “dying” of my nasal cavity is being counted, because I can’t have any more of this. I mean, did yall forget about that whole pandemic happening outside our windows? Not that I was a fan or supporter of funeral related activities... My feelings aside, I have always wanted people to be able to make their peace, with their loss(es), in the ways they see fit. And the’rona is out here seeing fit physical separations – of all kinds. Can you imagine that? Not being able to wish those that have passed on a proper farewell, for the real possibility that you might join them in 14 days or less. My God.

I'm surprised I even got out there. I wasn't completely immobile this week, but I was completely static some of the time. DJ D-Nice keeps the doors to #ClubQuarantine open, and I need my #LoveBizarre fix, which forces me to move. But that’s also the thing about courage isn’t it? It surprises you.

10k = 6.2 miles

Running (outdoor): 6.35 miles

   [The Math: There I go, overachieving again…if you can even call it that.]

Scarlet Flowers (Los Angeles, CA)

I met a woman who loves sunflowers just as much as I do. I did not think it possible. I love sunflowers so much, that when people who know me see them, wherever they are, they call/msg me to let me know that they saw sunflowers. They’re literally the only flower I receive, and I don’t know that I even told all the senders that they were my favorite. I guess I dropped enough hints. But, woman, sunflowers, we love them, differently and the same.

The first time we met, at her home, I was overwhelmed by yellow. It was giving me ...oh, maker did you know... and I need your sunshine on me vibes. It was the feeling of yellow, of sunflowers, vibrating through you. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more at home in a place I did not live in my life. I brought with me a sunflower mug, as is the custom to bring the host flowers. We hugged. There were more vibrations. Those vibrations, those emotions, those feelings, have so many names. We loop them into love though. That was love.

That woman is not just a sunflower, she is everything that sunflowers represent. Courage being above them all. This 10k was because of her. Because maybe that surprise I felt was a reverberation of the vibration we shared that first day. I thought I had only gone four miles, but when I was almost home, I was already passed the six-mile mark. I imagine with everything she is facing, in the difficult times that these are, I think she is tapping into something on the inside – and maybe something like me, it’s a surprise to her, too. And she’s finding out that she has more, is doing more, is at her own six-mile mark, when only a few were required.

The Un-Canceled Project, Part One ends on COMMITMENT.

I see what yall did there. I see.

I Finally Did It... #ShoopShoop

*takes a deep black breath*

Like I legit had a waiting to exhale moment in 2019. *queues up soundtrack because that whole thang slapped* I have seen that movie 50-11 million times, including my watching it on network television with all the commercials last week.

Man, listen. A whole exhale.

I have so many favorite parts of that movie/story/epic series of events in the lives of 30-something black women. However, my favorite (even above Robyn throwing that orange at Troy’s leather in the summertime wearing ass) was Bernie and James. Angela and Wesley. (but at some point we are going to have to talk about how Patricia (janet) came through with the most excellent remix of Bernie and that burnt car tho #ItIsTrash #ThatGolfClub #YouKnowHowMadYouGottaBe? *queues up Tweet* pass me a cigarette Bernie #iDigress)

How many of us have found ourselves in a completely vulnerable, devastatingly silent, and extremely public place dressed impeccably in the shambles of our life? Example: At the bar of a hotel looking at the remains of your broken marriage while a couple is taking wedding photos in the lobby. That was Bernie. If you're me *hypothetically, of course ... in my lyfe jennings voice* you're crashing a conference and you meet someone else who is crashing the conference too, and you go hang out together because the friends you're with are conferencing, and well, you're crashing. Anyway, later that evening Bernie and James would make the night beautiful and then return to their lives, to grieve the dead (her marriage) and dying (his wife). An isolated moment in time with reverberations so strong, they needed to be written, double enveloped, mailed, and well, read.

I’ve waiting as long as I could to contact you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Bernie. Every day. All the time. I’m embarrassed to even write that down, but it’s true.

Bernie, I fell in love, in one night. You know what’s even harder for me to understand – is that what I feel for you has never undercut the love I have for my wife. Now, how is that possible?

I still watch her every day. So beautiful. So brave. I just wanna give her everything I’ve got in me – every moment. She’s hanging on, fighting to be here for me, and when she sleeps, I cry over how amazing she is, and how lucky I’ve been to have her in my life.

You’re the only person in this world I ever knew I could tell this to – and even if this never finds you, and we never speak again, you’ve changed my life.

I know it was the 90’s but this man wrote her a whole letter, y'all. He used all his words; he used all his real words. Have you ever felt that with someone? You tell them something you haven’t told your family, parents, spouse, or even closest friend. Sure, there may be something to the we’re never going to see each other again quality of the interaction, but that isn’t why you said it. You actually never planned to say it, but there you are, face to face, exchanging real words with each other. And everything about what is happening makes complete sense.

You know what inspiration is? It’s someone who lets you know life will go on and something beautiful can be waiting somewhere. Somewhere, when you least expect it.

I spent an entire day with a man who was absolutely curious about me, because me. The End. He looked at me, in both mine eyes, absolutely focused on me. He engaged with me in a way that showed me my life was going to continue, and something beautiful was waiting on me somewhere. When something dies, that thing that was everything, you begin to see the eventual death in everything living around you. We believe in the pain before we believe in peace because hurt is a more trustworthy emotion than happiness. Why is that? (hello, hello, hello heartbreak)

But he looked me in my eyes wrought with death and offered me real living words. He did it promising me absolutely nothing. Much like James never leaving his wife under any circumstances, what he offered me that night was basically las vegas, by way of los angeles (I mean, they are close enough, in distance and distraction). Though calculating and crisp with his words, he did not say it that way. He carefully remarked that he had one job, and we fist bumped because he did that job well. Splendid.

It was a good ass night. And you know me so you know that I have collected (and conspired) plenty a random of good ass night in my time with super great people that I literally just met as the night commenced. But everything about me now, about who I am, is a life after death experience *big ups to biggie* There was the time prior to mid-2017, and then there is all of this here. I have not had a good ass night in any of this here. What's worse than not having one, is believing with some certainty that there wouldn't be one ever again. Not because I was undeserving or unworthy, but because that's just what this here is all about. I couldn't see it as being possible. I mean, do you know how hard it is to see mustard seeds, fam? My faith-sight ain't what it used to be *somebody grandma pray for me...i need a fan wavin, control top stockings wearin, wig shakin prayer*. But he, doing his one job exceptionally well, shared the good rev. dr. line brother’s word about believing when we aren’t seeing, huddled over his sermon notes captured in a “smart device” likely done using this thing called “y-phi”... They help you work when you're far away from the office.

So, I went on and got some nerve. I did it. I closed my eyes. And I exhaled.

There is no guarantee that I am ever going to see this man again, I had a wonderfully innocent experience with him, and I’m certain that it changed my life. All imperfect pieces in a puzzle that we made fit, in just one night. We kind of left like Bernie and James, grieving, in a good way. Who we were beginning to pass to make space for who we are becoming... *so’which’one’a’yall gonna send me that book tho, #treysongzvoice*

He inspired me. And in turn, we made the night beautiful, in an old fashioned way.

Shellie's Courageousity

I’ll challenge a professional football player to a 40-yard dash, but jog with the residual sadness that my ex didn’t want to run with me. Or that guy that didn’t think I was physically attractive – that sporadically finds me on the treadmill. And that grown man who waited until too late and 4 states to choose me? Always on that random street I turn on at the last minute. I mean, I let them all go, but there are traces of all’a’dat in my mind. In my approach to the start line of all these promising new experiences. I moved to gottdamn upstate New York without knowing a soul. I flew alone internationally with NO WORRIES. Hell, I blog my life.

Ain't nobody got time for you Scar! Boy BYE!

And I still find myself scared to death.

My zodiac sign is fire. I am a child of the flame. Indeed, I am a lioness. In deed and in birth. I was born a Leo. And as I think about it, I haven’t truly lived as a Leo. Nerp. Nope. As courageously as Sarabi when Scar took over the pride? Maybe I would have channeled my inner roar in that instance, but to say I’ve lived consistently that way? Not my truth. Not my life. The truth hurts… *remember that chick?*

I’m more like a Gemini. Opposite sides of a similar kind of thing. Leos have courage. Lions have courage. Mufasa married a baaadddd chick!

courage: [kur-ij] \  noun

:the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.

It’s really a rather remarkable word, mostly because of what it means. These days though, it’s just a word to me because it’s not this “thing” that I have. Okay, maybe I do, but not at the critical mass, in my assessment anyway, to say that “I Am Courage, Hear Me Roar!”

…well, if I don’t have it, who does? Plenty of you out in these streets! My Shellie does, too. She’s one of you. Shellie Pooh is the epitome of courageousity *I can make up words if I want…this my ish* My sister Shellie Pooh was born a Gemini. I think our zodiac signs got switched at birth. Honey chile, I think that she was inoculated with my courage vaccination, because she is it!

Shellie is brave. There is not a single thing she will not do to have the life she knows she is supposed to have. Even when this here life is showing her something completely different. She ain’t trying to hear that. Yep I said it, “that”. Especially when it comes to relationships. She doesn’t struggle the way I struggle. And if she’s afraid, she’s doing it afraid just like TR said! Because there is nothing, especially no man, that’s getting in her way.

She’s had a wealth of experience when it comes to relationships. Long terms ones. Every love seems like the last one she’s going to have. She’s so good at that. Nurturing a forever-like love. Shellie has loved some men through the best-worst-best-fcked times. I know. I saw it. Supported them. Cared for them. Upgraded them. Every one of them was made better because of her. Yet somehow, they all ended. It’s crazy to me to think that these men have found a way to lose her. But they did.

And she keeps it moving. Like she just pushed them out of the car…while it was still rolling…on the 405 freeway…in Los Angeles.

I shared with her my recent fear (okay, I share them all with her). My reluctance, or hesitation rather, to allow myself to be happy, right where I am, with what is happening to me, with the people making it happen to me. Not wanting to get excited about the person that’s taking a real genuine interest (no matter the intensity) in the things that interest me. Taking an interesting IN me.

And she said to me *with her chest*:

I refuse to sabotage any new relationship with that baggage.

Skycap?! Skycap?! Shellie keeps one on retainer just in case some bags need to be picked up.

Any one of us would allow her to have a Bernadette inspired moment and use that fire inside to burn his clothes, his car, his career and his confidence in his next life. We would have approved her break from men. We would have allowed her to be anxious, hesitant, skeptic even, about love. At least I would have allowed her that. But I don’t have that thing she has. Courage. And her courageousity will not allow her to have any time for that.

And she wants to see me be brave too. Desperately. To check my baggage, pay for the additional bag fees, and send it on that trip to anywhere but right here. To accept that I am seated in first class in life. In the same row she sits, across the aisle. To stop damn clucking! To be the thing she has full confidence that I am. Courageous.

Shellie and Sara are begging me to be brave. They wanna see it.

I hear you. I will. I'll show you brave.