10:45 Follow up

"I'm scared" he said

as he looked deep into my eyes

my reply?

a futile reflection

of the comfort my heart ached to provide

I slipped behind

my mask to hide

not lies

but the river of tears

I cried for him inside

physically, mentally

he was ahead of his time

for someone 16

but still a baby in my eyes

I prayed, pleaded,

demanded and cried for

" God!",

"something!!"
"someone!!!"

"a sign!!!!"

to show me that fate

would have mercy

on this young soul this time...

but the test came back positive

*To my beloved and much appreciated readers, it has been too long since I last posted. Time and circumstance have me chasing dreams, degrees and paychecks. Yet life's happenings and happenstance has me shedding an abundance of tears (due to overwhelming joy and grief). I am grateful for my blessings and increased understanding but I am hurting for our children. During the past few months I have encountered many children whose beings have left impressions upon my soul. As a pediatric nurse it is my job to care for these children. But as a woman it is deep within me to love and nurture these children.

Deformities, drugs, foster homes, suicide, homicide, AIDS, domestic and intimate partner violence are swallowing up these souls before they have the chance to even recognize and actualize their true selves and magnificence. Although I have never given birth my breast have produced and expelled milk since February 2007 and continue to do so up to this day. What began as a health scare has become a constant reminder of the woman God has made me to be: A healer, provider, nurturer, lover. Sometimes I absorb so much of this pain that I wish I could shrink my heart and cast it away. But no matter what I do, these images, memories and associated feelings do not cease. I have inumerable ideas and themes that I desire to share. I can not say what will be next or when exactly this will occur. But please know that I am still here living, loving and learning; and that when I do meet with you in this scared space of known as Dulce Salud again it will be to explore something worth the wait. Until then I wish you nothing but love, light and Salud! Sweet dreams tonight. Love always, Dulce.

For Martin...

I can still remember being a little girl...growing up and hearing Stevie's song celebrating Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday. He was like this perfect man, this Idol, this figure that should be revered. Yet he felt so distant that I could not understand how his existence affected my life. As I grew older, I found myself beginning to dislike some of Dr. King's practices. Seeing "Eyes on the Prize" and watching my elders learn how to crouch and duck during police beatings and other horrific assaults was not my idea of what the fight for justice should look like.

I found myself thinking that he was a passive idealist. It was not until college that I became fascinated with who he really was. I began my own independent research. From there I found tons of books, speeches and articles about Dr. King. I found his complexity, militancy and growing disdain with American politics (especially during the Vietnam War). It was the vastness of his dream that was hidden from me as a little girl. It was more than little white girls and boys holding hands with people that looked like me. He was a man who was brave enough to call out a country that dishonored the very principles it was built upon. As we can see, America has yet to answer his call.

One night I had a long conversation with one of my friends. I was telling him how I admired Brother Malcolm much more than Martin because he went from a hustler and thief to becoming one of the most upstanding and outspoken leaders of his time. My friend then asked me which quality was more admirable - someone who was at the bottom and found the strength to change their ways, or someone who was born into a Middle class family, had a legacy of leadership, stellar education and family support who despite such great fortune was empathetic and giving enough to put that all on the line, and move out of his comfort zone to see that all men are able to be free and seen as equal no matter what color, economic background and circumstances they were born into.

It was at this point that I truly appreciated Dr. King and what he stood for. I pray that as we all continue to seek a life of financial comfort and stability, higher education and build or continue a proud family legacy, that we never forget to reach out to our other brothers and sisters and not be consumed by the selfishness, greed and coldness that permeates the core of this country. Let us celebrate and remember our great elder by remembering what he stood for; living a good life, using our talents to provide service to others and leaving our children and future generations with a proud legacy, something to look forward to, and someone to look up to. I love you Brother Martin and I thank you for your life and legacy.

With love and sincerity always,

Dulce

My People, Hold On...(Dedication to Haiti)

This is my status post tragedy

the earth shattered

and shook my soul

towards the brink of insanity

forces beyond my control

ravage and rattle me

weary of battling

I'm unraveling

hanging on to my last string

of Hope...

Honestly I am speechless. I have nothing else to add to what as already been said other than prayers for my people and a small offering I am humbled and grateful. My father and I were relocated after our apartment building burned down in 2005. So although I can not fathom this disaster, deep down I have an inkling.

As an educated Black woman in America I feel it is my obligation to continue to work towards the empowerment of my people globally. This begins internally. So despite my struggles, my fears, my opposition, I continue to keep going and growing. I pray that the creator continues to give all of us strength to move forward and overcome.

The Makings of Faithfulness

"I keep moving forward, pressing onward, striving further..."

Jill Scott

Well, Happy New Year my lovelies. Its been a mighty long time since I've written to the people, for the people. As I sit here thinking about my life, I have experienced the full spectrum of emotions this past year and during the two hours it took me to complete this post. I am glad that peaceful gratitude has been the end result of both.

This post is serving several purposes as my New Year's/Return to Blogging/Makings Theme Finale. Since my high school graduation in 2000, I have been working diligently to obtain my RN license. There have been many trials and tears along the way. I used to cry and write to my brother often, telling him how I felt worthless because I did not have my degree in 4 years like most of my friends. For the longest I was scared to join Facebook because I have no degree, marriage, fancy house or children to show for myself. How is a woman who is pushing 30 supposed to present herself when these are the defining tasks of her peer group? He would always say "when you get that degree, the diploma, GPA, title, the amount of years, all that wont matter. Your patients, people will be drawn to the loving, humble, giving and experienced woman behind that uniform and that is going to be all that counts." He was right.

This grand feeling of Euphoria I was expecting after walking across that stage in December was non-existent. All that mattered to me was that I was with my family and friends. I felt proud that I survived so many trials and that I never gave up.

During the 9.5 years that led to me obtaining my RN, I: attended several colleges, universities and vocational schools, gained and lost (and lost and gained) nearly 40lbs, suffered and recovered from a major depression, lost several loved ones and friendships that were dear to me, terminated my first and only pregnancy, watched my apartment go up in flames, was put out of my Dad's home several times just to be welcomed back with open arms, and spent a massive amount of time and energy entertaining and desiring males that were poor choices hoping they would give me happiness. I even had a raging confrontation with a co-worker back in 08' that nearly caused me to be terminated and banned from Children's Hospital. (It was by God's grace that the truth was revealed and the outcome resulted in my favor.)

While these events just scratch the surface of the events that occurred within my life this past decade, they have helped me reach a place of faithfulness and appreciation in my life. I remember reading a quote that said "No one is going to be with you your entire life except you, so why not love, appreciate and enjoy your time with yourself." This has truly been my biggest challenge. Most of my life I let people, material things, events and circumstances dictate my attitude about myself and the world around me.

As I pause for a second, Donny Hathaway and Roberta Flack are dominating my ipod's playlist. I listen to take in the perfect harmonies and tears begin to fall. My attitude of gratitude is quickly washed away by sadness. I am reminded how empty loneliness feels. I honestly can't remember what it is like to be loved and adored. I miss and long for physical and emotional intimacy...

"Sigh"...but then I look around my Dad's place and I smile again. I let out a hearty laugh because he brought his air horn to my graduation and was blowing it and screaming my name like a mad man in the front row. I see family pictures and all the cards I received from loved ones. I think about the woman I have become. The one that cooked 4 days straight after work so that everyone could enjoy a feast fit for kings on Christmas Day. The woman that gives the little she has to support others, the one that is always there. I think of my freedom to go and do as a please without permission. The one that knows her worth, how she should be treated and no longer accepts less. The one that keeps her home, business and finances in order. The one who is a responsible and productive member of her family and society. Then I smile and remember two words: faith and forward. My purpose is to share love and knowledge. Nursing, writing and my gift of generosity are just a few of the vessels that will lead me to you and lead us to a better experience in this life. I remember not to look to others, but to appreciate the plan and purpose the creator has uniquely designed for me. I feel at ease again.

I believe this year is full of great things to come. I am asking my readers to be patient with me as I strive to maintain balance in my life. Although I have walked across that stage, I am currently in the process of studying for my state board exam. I am also moving to Florida this summer which means I am taking at least 2 trips south, filling out vacancy applications, looking at apartments (I'm a grown damn woman, no roommates allowed! LOL) and working extra shifts to save money. All this while attempting to keep my sanity, have a piece of a social life and still make time for church, Chai, belly dance and long baths. (We'll see how this goes, since I have yet to give up my 12 hours shifts every weekend)

I desire to remain the Queen of "blogging on a higher level" as well. So what I have decided to do is pace myself. My goal is to post on a weekly basis. My original blog was 1.5 years old, had 122 beautiful posts and was accidentally deleted. Luckily I was able to recover all of my old posts. So I am apologizing to my devoted readers in advance, but while I am transitioning I will be mixing new and old posts to rebuild and maintain volume and consistency. I am a woman of quality so you are guaranteed to be inspired and enlightened whether new or old.

I want to thank you for offering a part of your valuable time to me. I am looking forward to you joining me in the near future. Until then I wish you love, light and salud! :-).

A note from the Author (Gathering my harvest...)

To my beloved readers, for the past few months I have truly desired to offer you my humble interpretation of health, love, life and all things in between. However due to time constraints and numerous responsibilities, I have been unable to manifest these desires. Being a woman who believes in quality vs. quantity I have decided to postpone blogging on Dulce Salud until late December 2009 / early January 2010.

I am currently in my FINAL semester of my LPN-to-RN program. Along with my demanding schedule, I am working several jobs, preparing to relocate south by the middle of next year, all while being the best daughter, sister, friend, helper, healer, nurturer and Queen that I can be.

This past year has brought to me a lot of growth, pain, and pleasure but most importantly wisdom and stronger desire to be a vessel of knowledge for my brethren. I promise that when I return to my regularly scheduled blogging, your mind will be blown away by what’s in store

For a tasty sneak peak a few of my topics will include:

Body Talk: my personal reflection on how I went from being ashamed and unhappy with my body, to finally learning to love it after 26 years of living. Dance, assault / child molestation and consensual sex are among the topics that will be discussed.

Peace of Mind: an in depth look at mental health with a special focus on African Americans. Topics include; suicide, It’s a Family Affair (the genetics of mental illness and its effects on families), panic attacks / anxiety, depression, and PTSD (post traumatic slave disorder)

Demons (The Smoke & The Bottle): which will discuss addiction to marijuana, cigarettes, alcohol and crack cocaine (and their impact on us physically, socially and globally)

and a special theme that I am really excited about for Black History Month 2010:

The Evidence of our Magnificence: which will look at the genesis, apex and destruction of three of the most powerful Black infrastructures in America: Faubourg Tremé in New Orleans, Rosewood in Florida and the infamous Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Sprinkled in between will be my tasty love potions (recipes), current events and thoughts and theories about life in general. So my lovelies I pray that I remain close to your hearts as you are to mine and I ask that you send me love, prayers and support as I retreat to gather my harvest and prepare for the months to come.

Dulce Salud is in a brief layover, but once we board and settle into our next flight we will be soaring to new heights. So until then, I send you nothing but love, light and Salud! :-)

The Makings Part IV: Charm City

Curtis Mayfield’s soul and Lil’ Wayne’s swagger pour out onto the concrete. Children laugh and create their own piece of heaven using jump ropes, warn mattresses and milk crates. Abandoned buildings mirror the souls of the inhabitants that occupy them. Congregations gather on corners to sing drunken praises and experience the ephemeral euphoria of their vice of choice. Wheelchairs, canes and withered limbs shroud the vapid shells of former bodies that once reflected the divine image of their creator. The air is thick with a special type of energy that only warm weather can bring. This is the home of my people. An urban jungle, filled with prey and predators, danger and enticing beauty, with soil that has been poisoned by the toxic waste of capitalistic greed and yet richly fertilized by the decomposition of strange fruit.

Although the poetic passage above can applied to almost any major city in the US, this is actually my heartfelt interpretation of Baltimore, MD. Since late April of this year I have made at least 5 trips 40 miles north to take in what this city has to offer. Whether it was to celebrate my Natural Beauty, Heal a Nation or to behold Divine Royalty, it seems that Baltimore is brimming with the raw passionate culture that no longer seems to reign supreme in a melting chocolate city.

While Baltimore feels like my second home, (after Florida that is) I still do not know the entire city well enough to explore it without it my GPS or Map Quest directions handy. The comfort of familiarity gives me confidence but my inquisitive nature and DC tags readily announce that I am a visitor. Like a tourist, I can not keep my eyes off of the sights around me, the people, the soul in their eyes, the hair styles and fashion, the endless blocks of brick row houses. Scenes from The Wire replay in my mind as I cautiously maneuver around certain parts of town.

During my most recent excursion north I was driven by the expectation of getting in touch myself on a deeper level. I took a class at The Living Well on Tantra called “The Art of Giving and Receiving Pleasure.” Although I desired to understand myself more on a physical level this trip actually helped me gain a deeper sense of myself as a woman, of my black people and of the world around me. Despite all of the pain we encounter, we are still here - surviving and thriving, striving to experience living on a higher level.

Before I reached my final destination, I stopped at a well known black bookstore there to pick up some knowledge, a healing bath elixir and some shea butter. Although the entire store intrigued me I found myself continuously drawn to 3 main subjects: black health, black history and world travel. As I walked back to my car I realized that I parked directly in front of a Planned Parent hood clinic. I am grateful that Charm City has blessed me with some of her hidden treasures. All of these Omens tell me that my heart, soul and passions are leading me in the right direction…being a healer, nurturer and nurse for my people.

The Makings Part III: A Holiday to Remember

“PLEASE, OH MY GOD!! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!!!” I cried and screamed at the top of my lungs. I was in the visitor’s section of Howard University Hospital’s parking lot and sat on the ground with my dad between my legs. As I was helping him out of my car he started falling to the ground so I placed myself under him and slid us down to the ground safely. I did not want to move until I knew he was stabilized. I was scared out of my mind and panicking. He had a mild seizure while falling but kept reassuring me that he was fine once he came to. I kept screaming and crying and finally my desperation was relieved by two EMT’s and a stretcher.

Since we made such a grand entrance into the hospital, we were excused from an extended wait time and were escorted immediately to a private room where all of the blood draws, x-rays and intrusive tests began. For the longest time I have suffered in silence as I watched my father’s health decline before my eyes because of unhealthy choices. (Even when my pleas for change went unanswered I still loved him and supported his choices. There are some things that a man has to do on his own and being responsible for his health is one of them. Maybe one day men will learn that pride is not the best healer.)

I sat there by his side in the ER watching all of the monitors, wishing I was unfamiliar with all of the medical jargon and dangerous test results the doctors and nurses were throwing around. As much as my mind wanted to wonder off into a state of disbelief or shock, I knew I did not have time for any of that. This was a State of Emergency.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Dad and I had just gone grocery shopping a few hours earlier for our main items. We had our dinner plans all mapped out and were looking forward to another year of cooking a fantastic ensemble and inviting family over to break bread and spend time with. Little did we know things would be different this year.

For the past month or so he had this feeling that “something is not quite right.” He would start passing out but not remember when he was falling, he had spells of blacking out, excessive fatigue and no desire to eat or drink. His doctor had just diagnosed him with diabetes a few weeks before and told me to just help him monitor his blood sugar and encourage him to eat and rest. However the insulin and encouragement fell short and almost as quickly as my dad’s state of well-being. After we finished putting the groceries away he told me he could not see anything and passed out two more times. I helped him get to couch and called the ambulance. The medics came and checked his vital signs and blood sugar (which where normal) and said the only thing they could do was take him to the closest ER.

After my dad raked up major medical bills from all of my grandmother’s ambulance rides I decided that more bills would be the last thing we need so I told them to help me get him to my car and that I would take him to the hospital myself since his vitals and sugar level were stable. I had no idea this visit would morph into an extended stay.

“Jamilla, something is wrong with you my dear. You are not the same smiling and excited young woman that walked into my class in August,” my professor said when she pulled me to the side that following Tuesday. What started off as a semester of full A’s & B’s nose-dived into a series of “thank God I just made it” grades. I was so ashamed and shocked, but I’m glad she cared. I felt ashamed because I was one of the few students in my class who had “no excuse” for not doing well. I had no husband, no kids and no major drama in my life. But being worried about my dad, dealing with his anger and frustration (when he should have been looking at what HE got himself into) running errands, corresponding to worrying family and friends, working, and being a stellar student was taking it’s toll on me. I told her that I was going through some family issues but that I would finish out the semester with a passing grade. Maybe being away from dad and the responsibility of looking after him would be the break I needed…

While it was the first time I had the apartment to myself for over a week in years. Initially the silence was deadly. No sports talk radio or Delfonics blasting from the living room, no one to talk to about my long day at work and school and no clue as to how long he would stay in the hospital or what procedure or diagnoses would pop up next. “Silence,” I said to myself. Maybe it’s not so bad after all. I took my extra time alone to catch up on my school work, write, sleep and to just pamper myself and mediate. I think it’s the only thing that kept me sane. I am the type of chick that likes to have jazz, Nag Champa, roses and candles burning all over the house but your sensual swag (even if its just for you) gets put on hold when you are living with your dad. I made sure I made the most of this time.

I know it seems crazy but I even decided to start cooking Thanksgiving dinner Monday evening so that when Thursday came I could still enjoy my other family members and not worry about all of our food going to waste. It was exhausting! Making pans cornbread for the stuffing, chopping celery and bell peppers, preparing the turkey, peeling potatoes for the potato salad, making dessert, baking yams and rolls, I even left 4 packs of smoked turkey wings boiling on the stove for 2 days at low light so the stock would be hearty and just right for the gravy and stuffing.

My mom, aunt and a several cousins came over Thursday. I even delivered plates to a few of my older relatives that could not make it. Everyone was raving about what a good job I had done. (I was hoping they were not humoring me because of all I had been through but maybe they were telling the truth because it tasted good to me and a day or two later that $250 we spent in food was gone.

All of the anger, fear, fatigue and aggravation I felt melted away as I seasoned, massaged, rolled, marinated, baked and boiled my energy into our dinner. I felt bad and wanted to sneak dad a plate but the nurse in me would not let me do it, even if I was conscious of how much salt I used and had long ago traded fatback flavorings with smoked turkey.

He remained in the hospital for a total of 11 days and was discharged with prescriptions and materials on living with type II diabetes, high blood pressure and managing kidney disease. These are all diseases which can be controlled and prevented by maintaining a healthy lifestyle and diet.

Looking back over the past year I still feel the sharp edges of my dad’s pride when it comes to his health and habits but, I am learning to let go and let God. After his discharge, he was adamant about changing his eating habits and exercising more but within a few months he converted back to his old ways. My pleas for change still go unanswered sometimes but I still have a small inkling of hope that maybe one day he will choose the better choice over easier choice and make that change. Sometimes he jokes that since dinner turned out so well without him that I should start cooking Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner by myself. Even though he may be joking in his own crude way I am hoping that this year he will be with me so we can cook together as a family – because that is what the holidays are all about.