Cultivating awareness, transcendence and love
The Art of Disappearing
A cup of tea neglected on the kitchen counter
Waiting for the scorching heat to cool down so that
I might sip from its contents
.
Selfishly, the tea stands as
My longing to be comforted
.
Yet it sits—
Three hours later
In a cold heap
honey sitting at the bottom of the cup
.
I’ve forgotten
What it feels like
To be warmed from the inside out
Just as those have forgotten
What it feels like
To be loved by me
.
And maybe that’s Gods blessing
Allowing myself to be
Forgotten
In the image of your reflection,
we’d find shattered mirror pieces —
glass poking out the frame’s tension.
Rushing to clear the mess I’d nicked my finger in.
.
Blood flowing on marble floors —
startled, dazed, a bit unsure.
Its presence ricocheting like a gunshot, point-blank;
dreams crumbling, jolting us all awake.
.
Throbbing pulsations remind me
of its existence —
lies shattering the world once created.
Beautiful illusions leading one to quietly wonder,
“What was real? What was fake?”
.
Did I mistrust my judgment?
Was my intuition offline?
Yes — I’m God’s child, emboldened with the divine —
yet divinity became stripped bare in deceit;
half-truths, manipulations, and betrayal all meet.
.
Cowardice is one’s own personal hell.
Frozen in time and space, inaction becomes a choice itself.
Small internal voices whisper, “What’s wrong with me?”
Shame becoming an insidious, contagious disease.
.
In the fractal pieces, we witness a thousand reflections —
one face here, another there — infinite ways of deception.
Mirrors culminating truth that can hardly hide,
showing the fragility of the Self inside.
.
Time passes,
and the finger generates skin cells to mend
all the pieces the mirror tried to end,
scars remaining as a lesson of the horrors when
lies become the identity we live in.
Lately I’ve been feeling the energy of endings coursing through my body, racing through my veins up until it reaches my tear ducts, dripping slowly to land on the corners of my lips. I taste its bittersweet saltiness as I swallow deeply and allow for it to make its passage once again. I can’t refute the fact that change is often painful as life sucker punches us with it over and over again. Yet, somehow this current change in my life doesn’t feel quite like a sucker punch. Instead, it is the gentlest, most wistful kiss.
I’m amazed to realize that much of my endings do not have to derive from deep pain and betrayal. They can instead arrive in a package that perches itself on my doorstep, a nicely wrapped bow beckoning me to wonder what its contents is. It can be a phone call that says “yes, you got the job” or a letter that reads “Congratulations! You’ve been admitted into ___”. Or even soft lips that whisper “I’ll always love you” as they kiss you goodbye.
Endings are never easy. For me each ending requires a moment of deep surrender to what was and a trust in what will be. These days that are arriving require much faith, so I place my forehead on the ground and ask for strength. I ask for God to enlighten me with softness in moments where I’d thought I wouldn’t have any and to lead me on a path that I can’t even see clearly. Yet, I know, I feel that this is destiny.
As things end, I usually take the time to look around and take stock. What are the things that I have created with my hands; what are those things I’ve unwittingly destroyed? Were my words too harsh, too passive or timed just right? Did I extend forgiveness in moments where I was a little less than perfect and simply just human? Trying to reason my way through moments where I’ve felt too much because it felt too painful to feel. Have I run away from my own reflection in the hopes of drowning myself in anothers—only to find those eyes reflecting my image once again? And this time will I sit quietly with myself? These are questions that I ask when the ending arrives, and we are left with the fruits of the seeds we’ve sown.
Though endings can be heart-wrenching, honestly all that I witness is love. I see love in the fearful gaze of another as they attempt to hide what is on their mind and shield the fragility of their heart. “I make you feel so naked, don’t I” a question frequently repeated in my mind’s eye. Well, my love, my heart is sewn right onto my sleeve—believe me I feel naked too. Endings always make me feel naked, bringing me right back to my natural self, my child self; unsure and twisting my hands at what I’ve wrought, wondering if I could’ve been anything more than human. But even in that space of remorse, grief and longing, I turn to look in the reflection of my own gaze and still find love.
Love is the thing that makes a fool of us all. And saves us all in the same instance. Love is the thing that makes each moment of laughter, joy, pain, heartbreak worth it—love as a never-ending source of life. Its love that whispers “this door needs to close so that another can be opened”. Its love that rocks me gently as I cling to the past in the hopes that it’ll never reject or abandon me. Its love that wipes my tears, holds my face gently and gazes at me with a knowing that it remains present even when my mind is convinced that it’s going. It’s love that allows for me to pick my head up, look at that closed door and bow in complete and utter reverence. It’s the surrender that makes me revere loves presence. A divine surrender so spiritual my mind cannot conceive of it. It is only my heart that falls into a stupor, drunk with it. Love coursing so deeply within me carrying me to the new door that awaits with hope, inspiration and faith. Love that whispers, “are you ready? You got this, let’s open it together” leading me into a new energy. Love, that awaits on the other side with open arms, accepting, transformative and eternally present. Love that whispers “endings are an illusion that brings you back into presence helping you to realize; I’ve always been here. I have always been the ultimate reality. This is the ultimate truth.”
Love as a space of remembrance, continuously bringing me right back home.
So with love, I thank you for your presence. I thank you for your lessons. I thank you for bringing me back to remembrance.
A heart filled with love.
Xx Heaven
I’ve been in a space of deep-seated anger.
Deep-seated anger—you know, the type of anger that makes you feel restless. When you hear something that feels so contrary to your nature, you feel the slightest bit of resistance in your body and suddenly, the need to lash out! To yell, to scream “SEE ME! HEAR ME! Feel me”
Yeah, that type of anger.
I think we each feel it. It’s been such a wild two years hasn’t it? All the hopes and dreams of what we built on the fragility of “security” wasted away as a virus came in and snatch the rug from underneath our feet. Reminding us that safety and security was never quite that safe. Oh but we knew this. We knew it. Don’t lie—haven’t there been a many of times that you walked outside to take a stroll around the block and a young man smiled in your face, his eye lingering a bit longer than you’d like? And you found yourself confused, wondering “do I have something on my face?”
You felt it—in times were you were prompted to speak aloud in front of a group of people and not only to speak aloud but to speak CLEARLY. Efficiently. Effectively. To move people with a deep sense of conviction and admiration. And safety was stripped away just as quickly as you were asked to speak, wondering “what would they think about me?”
Living in the illusion of safety has helped us only in as so far as we are able to see it’s illusion. To understand that safety means to truly feel that you have a right to be here. Deep in your bones, to feel it vibrate in your soul, “I have a right to be here. To exist”. But a good majority of us do not feel this.
How could we? Our history is convoluted with so much pain and suffering, the stripping of our very humanity and oh, the tales and stories of slavery! A sure disease that makes us feel so unworthy.
Yeah, this anger is layered deep.
I’ve been frustrated. How have we sold ourselves a tale of lies? Lies that have made us so unseemingly, we have forgotten that to walk on this earth is not a privilege but a birth right. That to exist is to play out Gods plan perfectly and to create is to truly be free. I’ve been angry.
And so many will say—“a woman?? Angry? A black woman at that, not a foreign sight—it’s to be expected! They walk the earth so bitterly, of course you would find the likes of her angry.”
But you see…my anger is holy. From the same womb that created this existence, I gaze into your face and witness bliss. The sweet symphony of all of humanity, a gift that has been graced to touch the Holy Mother, as feet kiss the ground that created our flesh. As spirit sanctified our breath.
So you see, hell yeah, I’ve been angry. We are so much more that we have become to be if only we would allow ourself to ascend gracefully. To remind each other that money, prestige, the likes of intellect and the mind can hardly superseded the stirrings of the heart and spirit that created all that be.
I hope our anger allows us to wash to the shore of God’s feet and infinite awakening gently.
I pray that our anger allows us all to be free.
I remember you
the lines of your face, deeply groomed grassy heaven
My tears furled in the crevice of dark tresses
I remember you
Dark, tall and handsome
An enigma
Not seeking to be chased but enjoying
The thrill of desire
I remember you
We lay, sprawled between silk lies
A tangle of webs caught between several truths
Things we’d hoped our hearts would hide
But see…I remember you
A wistful tale of love unrequited
Or perhaps too immature to ignite this fire
So important to my own song—
I suppose you’d helped me find my own
Touching traces of insecurity
So that I would unveil the real me
Not so pretty or so peaceful, no:
Painfully human, fleeing ease and flow
I recall—
Much laughter in the height of the morning
3am, hearts soaring
Recalling dreams of tomorrow
Though it’s actions turned sour
A hidden place inside of me
Stories never ventured, still unseen
You see…I remember you
The thrills of diving to the deepest end
Pulling me back to my waters ocean
Liquid desire tracing back to the Source
A sure testament of love as a compelling, mystique force
I recall, infinite stories of who we’d wish to be
Becoming all that God meant for me
Perhaps trading in another,
to reignite my own energy
Yes…you gave me a wonderful gift
The gift of remembering me
I remember me.
———
I guess love is never truly lost
Never taken or held behind
A finite fire smothered on a summers night
Illuminating the path to witness the stars shine
Gazing above, the heavens hanging on the edge of time
Reminding that it’s presence has always been alive
Time has taught me time and time again
Human love is only for the purpose of true remembrance
———
I saw God’s face
He smiled softly
Drove me deeper into the cold waters that met me
Cleansed grime and smut from clouded soul
Embracing insecurities and wounds of old
Salt stitching each layer of raw skin
Purging the cloud of sin from within
Loss and doubt that arose in a lack of faith
I’m happy that our imperfect love led me back to God’s face
Thank you
For leaving this memory of you.
Genuinely Jannah 