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.

As winters day rolls in

Sun rays burning dirt-colored skin

Peeling cloved eyes apart to

Witness your grin

Or perhaps soft snoring—

Hands searching for eternity,

Tracing ridges along deep waistlines

The aroma of yesterday’s coconut shrimp

engulfed between sheets,

Faint memories of distant dreams

Crashing like ocean waves into reality

Drowning out the sounds of our breath

Reminding us that time passed is each, a tiny death

Mingling, rising then crashing deeply

As firm digits rush to grope soft cheeks

Laughter breaking vocal chords weak

The deepest rumble, bold vibrations

Echoing from your stable mountain top

I’m grateful that it is your chocolate eyes I peer in—

On a chilly, winters morning

The Journey of Acceptance—Foundations of Inner Peace

How comical is it that we plan?

Life lately has felt like a whirlwind of moments, a tsunami of emotion crashing down on unsteady pavement as the world quakes around it. Times like these are a practice in what it means to embody patience and faith while many are left feeling faithless. In the midst of chaos, we are being asked “how will you keep your peace?” And for those who remember the ways of old, the ways of the mystics, perhaps an even deeper question from Our Creator, “how will you remember me?”

I recall my father teaching me the ancient ways of the prophets, speaking their language to me. In a beautiful tongue I could hardly understand, he proceeded to decipher it to me. Though I was just as young, naïve and unassuming as any young girl would be, I feel now that something deep inside registered this as sound truth to me. Perhaps it was the spirit of my grandmother egging me on, her spiritual roots blooming deeply within my core. Or maybe it was the essence of milk and honey resting upon my tongue after whispering sacred words for the love of God to my soul. A part of me wonders was it the emotional tone that conveyed its seriousness to my psyche? But now I understand that all of my ego’s conceptions, descriptions and explanations do not matter. Because the truth, in all of its covetedness appears now in plain sight to me.

We are each cycling with the pulling of the sun, being dragged by gravity into a singing symphony of remembrance. In the midst of destruction, can we return to our nature, can we find our Creator? Can we live earnestly and speak a word that is good? Can we encourage others to listen deeply and reflect frequently on what is right? Are we allowed to give grace and patience in moments that don’t seem to quite make sense? And allow these moments to bring us a touch of grace, the miracle of wisdom? When we allow ourselves to fall deeply into surrender, into letting what will be, be—we earn the rights of our markers for deep faith. When we listen earnestly before we speak, we are able to witness clearly the truth that is sometimes hard to see. And when we allow ourselves to fail miserably, to hurt fully, we open ourselves to the deepest form of love that ironically comes from grief.

Are you grieving the state of the world as many others are? To be alive to witness times where many wander aimlessly, where we struggle to find a place to stand on shaky ground, to float atop the ark in the newly created sea—have you found a place where you can process your grief? I’ve found that in this space of mass information given to an unassuming audience; to many who can’t help but to obtain the stimulation their mind seeks many are choosing to forgo their peace. Or have begun to forget that peace is even an option for ordinary people such as you and me.

This isn’t meant to be a one-size fits all post for solutions that will bring about a new meaning to tomorrow, a new solution and exercise for world peace. But to let go of all reasoning and simply be. To allow ourselves the grace of processing grief and being open to the lessons that arrive in its place. When grief takes place, we can open our hearts to more patience, kindness and faith than many would be apt to see. And it allows us to become the people we were always meant to be.

My father always quoted to me, “we are the ones we are looking for”. I thought it’d once knew its meaning but now it is truly plain to me. In a space where we can strengthen one another to cry, to hurt, to laugh, to scream, to fuck up and make mistakes while we try to make sense of what is currently happening, we can touch a reservoir of faith and plant its seeds. And this is the blessing of the chaos ensuing that will bring many to finally choose inner peace.

Your sister,

Jannah

Fatal Attacks of “Imposter Syndrome”

Do we really ever create work that is “original”?

I ask this question after taking a social media sabbatical and having trouble with the process of creation. In my own inner development, I find that some of the tools I had been using as a means of fortifying my creativity had begun to lose its spark. In the reclamation of this spark, I began pursuing meaning, ideas, information and innovations outside of myself to regain its merits. Hoping to reclaim this Creative instinct and spirit, I’d hoped that witnessing its merit in others would ignite it in myself. And though this plan did arise some interest, its heaviness begun to weigh deeply when the idea of “originality” began to escape my ego’s grasp.

What is it about being “original” that brings us some sense of pride? Is it being able to say, “I put out the greatest piece of work anyone has seen”? Is it that we feel proud of displaying work no one has ever seen, even at the threat of others disapproval? Is it that through the Creative Spirit of The One being channeled, we are able to find our place in the world once more? What is this “originality” that society seems to be harping on each of our creative thought process?

In lui of my make-up, I suppose it is imperative that I go through a constant rewashing. Through this rewashing, I find that deconstructing and recreating programs are integral to not just growth but my understanding of life. We each have a means and manner of behaving in this world. And through our means, God has a deeper awareness and presence of all of the facets of His essence through creation. But how often do we allow the grace of this essence to shine forth.

The idea of originality, in the context of creating is just that—the unique, integral formation of God’s handiwork expressed through our individual essence. When I take this into account, I am quickly reminded that in a sense, nothing and everything is original all at the same damn time. Coming from this place of Oneness, we each are reflections of the One who has brought our existence from nothingness. We each are a culmination of experiences created through this encompassing entity, filtered through the reality of our perceptions. And when I keep this in mind, I realize that each word, each action, each thought are original in the sense that they come from my uniqueness, in the likeness of God.

If you were afraid to speak due to imposter syndrome, let this stand as a reminder that though we may feel the claws of false identity clinging to your chest—you stand alone as none of the identities you cling to, belonging only to the giver of identity Himself.

And that, I hope brings some semblance of release.

Life is effortless. Allow yourself to flow with ease.

Heaven

**Also as seen on Instagram @the_youthfulqueen

Releasing the False Self—Ramadan Reflections

This Ramadan has been quite peculiar for me.

In this place of merging tradition with intentional ritual and releasing faulty conditioning of the Ultimate Truth, I have found myself at the seat of paradoxes one can find lying beneath the tyranny of the false self.

Where are the people, the items, the identities that will bring us to The Most High? We find ourselves seeking practices, ritual and information as a means of searching for this Ultimate Truth. And still, many will miss it.

This search for truth is often found when the haze of clouds disappear overlooking the sky. As Rumi writes, “God has shown us the foam and obscured the ocean”. We see the dust but missed the wind. How is it that we are searching for that which has existed all along?

We search and search once again, only to find consciousness peaking beneath the level of our awareness. Then attention becomes displaced and once again—this awareness escapes us. How is it that we have missed the gold that peaks from beneath the surface? Or even more importantly, how can we grasp the gold when we are confounded with the earth settled on top of it?

This is what it means to operate under the false self, to be consumed by the evils of our own minds—fear, doubt, shame, guilt, judgement and compulsion. Many of us condemn the hell we are afraid of entering—yet perpetuate its presence in our lives through each waking moment.

In moments we choose our false selves over the reflection of the Divine, we have lost Ultimate Truth. In moments we find ourselves tethered to unnecessary impulses, compulsive needs of the lower self, an inability to sit in the wake of nothingness, of silence—we are forfeiting our birthright to the Ultimate Truth. And what is this truth exactly? It is the presence of God that is so apparently in our face, we lose vision of Him each time we turn our face.

It is nothing to be ashamed of, but everything to be conscious of. In this world where we are faced with so much distraction, temptation, anger and strife—remembrance of God becomes not only a necessity, but our saving grace. And I do not mean the God that is defined through religious dogma and rules to regulate human conduct. I mean the Creator that exists beyond space and time—residing, etched deeply into every facet of His magnificent Creation. Including ourselves.

This is what I have learnt this Holy Month. That behind routine, there is the intention and importance of ritual that brings us to a place of purposeful remembrance. And this remembrance allows us to let go of ourselves, let go of our false identities in favor of remembering the fullness of that from which we have come. To embody our divinity and let go of conditioning, false idols and hatred. To release our arrogance and fall to our faces in humility and lack of perfection. And even in those shameful reflections, find the need for the love of God.

💛 I pray the Creator purify my speech, in my intentionality to bring forth His magnificence.

💛 I pray this month be an opening to each of our awakening.

For this, is the truest, most enduring healing 🌸

Have a wonderful second half of this Holy Month.

Your sister,

Xx Heaven