Family & Gunshots in 2011

I thought a lot about where I wanted to be when 2011 rolled around and what I knew for certain was that I didn't want to see a single face around me that I was not totally in love with. So because everyone was going somewhere and somewhere includes strangers and even people I know but don't particularly care for I decided to stay in with my Mumsy and my nephew.

It was a great decision. We had red velvet cake balls and simply enjoyed each others presence. I remember being so homesick on Thanksgiving eve. I cried so much that night. I was filled with longing and happiness. So many mixed emotions. But I swore that I would give my family my precious time when I am able to because I know what it means to miss with all your heart.

So here I am.
Ready to solidify New Year Resolutions and suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by loud bangs. Not pretty fireworks but earsplitting blasts. I look out of my living room window and two houses away are 4 or 5 boys with big guns blasting bullets non-stop from the bottom of the street to the top of the hill. Shooting. shooting. Not aiming. well, kind of aiming up. simply aiming away from themselves and sending bullets to God knows where.

I can hear them now. three shots in a row. four more. one shot. two. three. The shots just keep going and going and now I am laying in my bed but they sound like they are just outside my window...I guess they sort of are. They aren't even 100 yards away from my house. How can people can be so careless? Why are these boys so lost?

I am glad that I am not expecting any visitors. I am glad because anyone driving down my street right now could catch a bullet in a flash. I won't go outside. I won't even stand by a window. I am nervous about walking by one because these fools will be shooting into dawn.

They have guns of all kinds. I am no expert but they have guns bigger than my 2-year old nephew who is sleeping downstairs and small enough to fit in your back pocket (granted your pants are quite baggy). They have guns that shoot one bullet with every pull of the trigger and guns that just need the trigger held down so that bullets fly incessantly.

In my house cake balls are chilling in the fridge. Christmas lights are still hanging.  There is a kettle on the stove. It is warm and cozy. And outside it sounds like a battle field.

*sigh* I forget that these streets can be quite dangerous. I forget that all the time. They weren't always like this but today is today and today this is new neighborhood. This is not the street where I played Any-Hop, built bike ramps, played hide-and-seek, and drove barbie cars.

It's a new day.  A new year. A year that I brought in with family and gunshots.
Hello 2011 and HAPPY NEW YEAR. Again.

Happy New Year

Across the the street from the Moscow Art Theater.

The Return.

I am not sure where to begin. It has been a long time since I blogged. 

So much has happened. So much has changed. I am still not sure what those things are but I can feel them. I can feel myself breathing with a new breathe- with a new internal rhythm.

I have been in Moscow for the past 3 months. Drowning the sweetest death surrounded by nothing but art.

People keep asking me how Russia was and I want so badly to give them something good but a trip like this one is hard to summarize. 

"it was amazing" -is usually my reply. That's all most people want to hear anyway. Or I say, "it was cold" and they giggle a little.

But really it just blew my mind.

* I learned what it means to be honest in art and in life. I learned that those to things are not at all separate- an honest life leads to honest art and without honesty you have nothing.

* I learned how to let go and move on. Essentially, I learned to try. let go and try then move on but continuously improve.

* I learned to enjoy the process. So often we go from result to result and we forget to enjoy the moments in between. I learned to stop rushing through life/art. As our Russian Movement teacher put it-

"If you work for a result and not for the process you are like an actor who enters just to make an exit. It is the moments in-between where art happens."

*I learned to "check up myself". Double check. Check again and again. Examine. Question. Refine. Define. Solidify. Make all choices clear and concrete. And when you think you've done it all "check up 

yourself" a few more times. The process never ends.

*I learned from a good friend and amazing performer Lydia Kapp that "God looks out for the little things."

*I learned to share myself or "give the scene to partner".

*I learned what it means to be dedicated by watching my instructors and seeing the Russian students. I learned and experienced what it feels like to sleep, eat, and breathe something.

*I understood how history informs art and how there is not one without the other. I guess that ties right back to honesty.  

*I learned the difference between "drama of life and drama in life"

*I began to understand Anton Chekov and even began to see the humor in The Seagull (partly because of Group 1's awesome performance).

*I learned that "it is possible" is a far more productive way to say "for example". No need for examples, "it is possible" to do anything!!!! (so do it!)

This is a small "peep" into what I have brought back home with me. Many many lessons that I hope I never forget

I wish I had blogged throughout my journey but this process turned out to be a very personal one. I did keep a private journal though. (I am proud of that).

Anyways, now I am back and still me with some pretty chips where old ideas have fallen away and new designs where I have gained perspective.

If you read my blog throughout the summer then you remember that I have been feeling these changes as the approach. On July 20th I posted  Refined Consciousness. In this post I discussed how I am learning to take my time and not rush, how I feel myself changing. 

The point is that this process began long ago. I am sure now that all things are connected all things happen for some reason and I take comfort in that mystery.

You don't know what you are preparing for or how each situation will help you in the future but it will or it can if you let it. 

For this reason I am a big fan of tomorrow (I hope I make it there) but I am an even bigger fan of today with the spicy mystery of tomorrow.

Speaking of today and tomorrow-

HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

more soon...

-Jacqueline Naami

Snap Shots

My Camera officially broke while in transit from Connecticut to New York or maybe from New York to Germany. It could be that it broke from Germany to Moscow. Either way the lens wouldn't open when I arrived in my dorm.

But Luckily Kelley Van Dilla who is an incredible photographer and a generous human being, lets me post photos from his camera. So all credit to Kelley Van Dilla. If you want to see more AMAZING pictures check out Kelley's blog as well (click here).

This is the house that I stayed in while on the O'Neill's Campus. It is called the White House but it might be yellow....not sure.

This is my favorite picture of the beach at NTI. I love the depth- the sun sits all the way in the back of the image but still manages to reach you with a rainbow.

Some of the group checking out Red Square

St. Basil's Cathedral

Rambling on Russia

(Written September 23)

Sunday, September 19th I met 29 students that will become my friends and essentially my family over the next 3 months.

I was pleasantly surprised to see how different each and everyone of was/is. Their Facebook profiles did them no justice. They are far from two-dimensional. They are layered and inflated and I Love it. 

So we met in Waterford Connecticut which is where the Eugene O'Neill  Theater Center. The O'neill Center is truly one of the wonders of God. The campus and land surrounding it are so overwhelmingly beautiful that you literally had to catch your breathe.

There are acres upon acres of green rolling grass, gardens, and stonewalls. IT is like some New England hobbit land. And when the grass stops rolling the sandy beaches appears like a dream come true. Next you are welcomed by the infinite ocean. To the right of the beach are giant rocks smashed and cozied together creating an organic masterpiece. We spent as much time on those rocks staring over the ocean and the grass as we could. Maybe that is way we felt so connected after a day and a half of orientation. Perhaps, sharing a memory as bold and beautiful as that one creates instant bonds.

Today (September 23) we had orientation. We met our language professor, stage combat professors, and acting professors. They went one by one (using translators) telling us their expectations. Last were the acting professors (I forget their names *whoops*). Before we could begin acting class we had to be separated into two groups otherwise our acting and movement classes would be far too big.

SO

We each did a monologue. One at a time. 31 monologues. 

Honestly, I was a little nervous. The moment had been shadowing every moment prior, not in a huge way but still there. We knew that we could not start classes until this "audition" was done.

One reason that this was so nerve-racking is because our acting teachers are the best. They are some of the most famous artists in Russia. In America, it is said "if you can't do- teach". In Russia that is absurdity. You should not teach unless you are a MASTER at your art. In fact once you master your art it is an HONOR to then teach young artists the skills that your teachers taught you and to also pass down the knowledge that you have acquired from your own journey.

It is an HONOR to teach. 

It is the mark of greatness. 

I think it is beautiful. So much of the way that Russians treat art and especially Theater makes me nod, "yess! yesss!".

Often I have the feeling that light bulbs are going off in my head non-stop. Other times I am just in silent awe, absorbing.

I want to MASTER theater and dance to the best of my ability and share it. I have no burning desire to be a movie star or big time celebrity. Don't get me wrong- it's not that I would denounce fame and fortune if it should be that I find myself in a position where I can receive it.  What I mean is that, I am not studying with the final goal being fame. I am studying because this is my LOVE and my LIFE and I want to do it well and I want to share it with others who are just as passionate as me. I want to share it with other people who LOVE acting and are incapable of doing any other job in this World.

Those people who like me have only very basic  (like VERY BASIC) mathematical skills and no sense of punctuation.  Those people who are proud for MONTHS after creating the simplest of powerpoints. Yep, I want to do this for them.

 I was told a story of a great Russian actor who decided that he had done enough work to begin teaching. No one argued as to whether or not he was a brilliant actor, to that point everyone agreed he was GOLD. Still, 30- some odd yrs he was, other teachers could be found saying, " He cannot teach yet. He is good but he has not worked long enough. He has not MASTERED his art".

There is so much respect for the arts here. If you decide that you want to be an artist- that is what you study. There is no "backup- plan". They eat, breathe, drink, walk, and dream their art and then THEY LIVE IN THEIR ART because by then it lives in them so COMPLETELY. It is imprinted on their souls. On every exhale you can see passion and precision. 

It is overwhelming and so immensely comforting to be in a place where NOTHING but pure dedication is expected of you at all times. A Russian MXAT (Moscow Art Theater) student has no scheduled breaks in their day. How dare you schedule a break before you have even begun to work?!?

No, they find time to eat, rest, snack.  

That is why they are the greatest. 

ALSO, The Moscow Art Theater  is the theater home of nearly every notable actor in Russia. They teach here, perform on the stages here, or studied here. Some just come to MXAT to eat lunch in the cafeteria. A cafeteria!!!  It is old school; single file line and tray style. The best of the best gather here and just chill. They eat in the CAFETERIA and then go about their day. Next to them are actors in training, personnel, MXAT custodians, and us- "the Americans"!  Can you imagine- Denzel Washington, Meryl Streep, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Will Smith all chiling in a cafeteria??

.

And in Russia any average Russian could name you 3 current theater actors- NOT movie stars but theater. Everyone follows it. 

Russia is an amazing place. I was worried about being murdered by neo-nazi groups, instead my hand has been kissed repeatedly and people have very politely asked to pose in pictures with me. 

I much prefer that to death.

I lost track of what I was telling yall. I wanted you to know that we all did our monologues and everyone was FABULOUS and tomorrow we will find out which teacher we have and what group we are in.

I AM SO EXCITED!!! 

Tonight a few of us joined some other American students from Illinois to a bar. Everything in Moscow seems either dirt cheap or NEW BORN BABY expensive. Tonight our drinks were dirt cheap.  Tomorrow we are going back because it is dance night! I cannot wait!! Oh and Saturday night we will attend our first show!!

-Part of our curriculum requires that we watch as much art happen as humanly possible. We will see 30-40 plays, concerts, and ballets.  In a city like Moscow that is a simple feat because there is always art happening, 7pm almost any night.

Saturday we are going to see a ballet- SWAN LAKE!!! I cannot wait!!  

I am so excited for our own ballet class. 

anyway, I think that is all for now.

until next time.

5 quick steps to getting naked (no clothes required)

1. find a mirror


2. locate all of the items that are currently clinging to your person


3. Address each item individually-- talk to it, talk about it, roll play with it, spank it if it is out of line


4. once each item has been acknowledged- remove it from your body. Hang each item on it's respective hanger


5. look at your new, weightless, naked body. embrace it. touch it. sing it a song. 




ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN YOUR FREEDOM

DAMN, She Fine!

1. Let's break up all the seriousness of my last few posts

2. the Lady to the left has a BANGIN' body. I just wanted to share that with all of you.

(I would have cropped out the lady on the right but I didn't have the patience to figure out how)

3. in case you were wondering- these models are wearing Rosa Chá

A Word to My Readers- Abortion

A friend of mine asked that I write something tackling abortion and I promised I would.
I tried for weeks to write something that I felt was decent and a few days ago I finally wrote the poem that I think tells the best story.

On my journey to that poem I started, finished, scribbled several other approaches to the topic. I have decided to share those pit stops with you, which is why several of my newest posts are about abortion.

feel free to comment.

(on anything)


-Jacqueline Naami

(Thank you for faithfully reading)

What is that feeling in my gut?

I have this gut feeling
more than intuition
that something is happening to me
happening to me without me
happening because of me but with no regards to me
this kicking feeling in my gut
and the feeling is swelling steadily growing
has a life of it's own
breathing
making my own breathe short and uneven
and I feel like this is something that I should probably address
this feeling in my gut
this heavy
growing feeling in my stomach


I sleep it off
and I dream
of love
of life and a yard
playground


I hear the words.
"mama!!!!"


*nightmare*


(a nightmare is sometimes defined as a dream that comes true without warning)

Untitled.

I dreamt about you
and it made me sick to remember
that I nearly held you


nearly nursed you
nearly loved you
instead I loved him and killed you
didn't know how to share
wasn't ready
I wish you would have waited
come in a couple of years or something


not saying it's your fault but your timing
your timing was off
so I had to do what he had me do
you want me to be happy, right?


And it's not that I want to forget you 
it's just that I don't want to remember
and my dreams are not a fair place for you to squander
see dreaming about you aint nothing new
that's not the part that gets me
it's the fact that you're different now
your face is harder 
and you look like you lived a rough life 
but I thought that is what I was saving you from


It hurts to think this much
I shouldn't have to hurt like this to remember Love


see
before they were dreams  of possibilities 
now dreams of regret
I never held you to my bosom 
that sweet milk of nature never touched your lips
I got no hug from short arms that could barely cover half my hip


and the fabricated memories of the old you now haunt me
with the contrast of the cold eyes that now visit me when I am sleeping


so kindly, stay out of my dreams
stop turning them to nightmares
and it's not that I want to forget you
It's just...
I don't want to remember

Delusions of Insomnia

While it is true that I have missed you
I have also enjoyed the sun on the back of neck and I don't even mind that is currently turning blacker than black


although I have missed the shade I am excited about all the UV rays in the distance


I hope I can absorb it all
I hope there is room enough in me to store it all
I don't mind if these rays infect me
take me over
fill me with dreams and positivity


see not all cancers kill
not all antibiotic heal
(it can be confusing, I know)
but I want this poison to engulf me
yes. this poison, my friends, is good


and I know you are reading this thinking that I am honoring you in metaphors
but this little napkin scribble is not what you think it is


it's  about him
but not him


the other him
HELL
it's about Him
and you and all of them


it's about all the hopes and dreams that I have
 and I see
 and I can almost grab
it is about that fact that I could choose to be depressed at any minute (you could too)
but the sunrise is just so so so inviting
and your shade...?


(by your, I mean their, I just forgot who I was talking to. I am actually still confused.)


their shade.
is not cool enough to keep out the fire
not cool enough for me to ignore the rays


born in one of the coldest months
I am blessed to be a fire sign


I am hot and that is why I sleep naked


it is 3:33 am and I have no idea what I am talking about.


goodnight.


but don't forget to make a wish! 


-Jacqueline Naami

Napkin Scribble #5

"and while the people sleep"
he dreams in ink


he disguises each dream in a verse and hook


mumbling
head bobbing all through the night


Track #1 - that one will get him the car of his dreams


and he knows when the ladies see it
He'll be sought after like a shooting star in the night 


everyone will be wishing to take a ride
and he'll give the people what they want


everytime.




-Jacqueline Naami

The White Flag

As soon as I get that red flagged warning, I am DONE. There is no need to push it. I am too young. I will fight for some things but only those things which deserve it. Until those things present themselves, I'll keep it moving. Sometimes the walk is strenuous and I get tired. It is usually in those moments of respite that I found myself missing what I know is better left behind. I turn around and it's still so close by. Usually, this is where great friends come in or an inspiring song or strengthening book and it urges me to continue the difficult walk. At every rest-stop I turn my head. Eventually, I can't see that thing anymore. It's too small. I have grown above it. I am towering now.

I realize that all of these things which I thought were good for me and that I have since had to leave behind are not reflections of some cursed life of mine. See, there is a lot more crazy in this world than good and so it makes since that so many encounters would prove unfruitful despite the hope that I have invested in them, but see I'll only need one tree to plant a fruitful seed in me. One. In the midst of a million red flags, I only need one white one blowing in the breeze. I'll hold mine up too and we'll surrender together.

...in due time.

The Boy in The Orange Trunks

I am sitting in the park trying to reorganize my work/life balance and suddenly I hear this obtrusive and barely comprehensible voice. It breaks through my peace like a stubby finger bursting bubbles. It draws my attention snatching me from the word of Malcolm X which I gripped tightly with both hands.


-GET YO ASS BACK THERE!- he yells


I follow the aim of his raging voice and it lands like a bullet on a tiny little boy. He immediately bursts into tears as the bullet of the hostile man's words fall upon him. He is a tiny little boy, bright orange swimming trunks. They are long in a mature way, worn the way a teenage boy might. He wears a tiny white t-shirt over his little chest and his head is bald. He is maybe 4 years old.


An older boy (7 or 8) runs up to guide the crying one back to the fountains that are spewing water from the ground. Tens of kids are currently running in between the fountains, screaming, laughing, trotting around in glee, while this little boy cries just nearby. None of the other children take notice. The man yells again,


-YEAH, BRING 'EM HERE!-


The little boy in orange trunks makes a sudden dash for freedom (I would have too). The older boy chases after him. I turn to look at the fuming man to gadge his reaction.


The man is fat. He wears faded jean shorts and a dirty wife-beater with fringed, unraveling edges. His stomach and love handles threaten to burst through the fabric. . His hair is cut close to his scalp and his face is like that of a dark raisin. He looks meeeeaaan and his squinting makes it worse. I have this feeling that he is young, late 20s early 30s but he looks more like 45 or so.
His back is to me now.


He is leaning over the back of a park bench. His flat wide ass is showing, his ass crack soaking up the sun. When he stands back up I see in his hand a belt- a purple belt- a leather purple belt-white on the inside.


He starts the long march across the courtyard to find the little boy in the orange trunks. His steps are heavy and his weight falls sloppily with each step. He leads with his forehead, walking forward but always looking down.


(I shake my head)


His arms swing hard as they push his fatty body through the air. The heat, I know is making him slump harder.


I try to beat him to the boy-
with my eyes, that is.
I am trying to figure out where he ran off to.
I am running out of time
the fat man's walk, though sloppy is deliberate so I know that his eyes are locked on the little boy in the orange trunks.


FINALLY, I spot him!
 The fat man is only a few sloppy steps away. He reaches him, raises his left arm, hand clenching the purple leather belt, he lets all of his power fall onto that young boys back.


I listen for a scream or cry but I hear nothing that I can distinguish as that. If he did cry out, his pain was lost amongst the sounds of the other children in the fountain who were still yelping with joy.


The boy had run off to some woman. After the boy was struck, she snatched him into her arms, cradling him, protecting him.


Now she and the fat man appear to be speaking about something. He is walking away, but  turns his head over his shoulder to continue the conversation.


After a while he whips his head around and begins the walk back to his bench, walking forward but looking down.


I wonder if he feels as though he got his point across. I wonder if he feels strong.


-Jacqueline Naami

Waffle House Journaling Continued.

I can feel myself on the brink of some intellectual maybe spiritual (maybe both)  break through.

I know that the combination that is guiding closer to my genesis is:

1. Self Love

2. Literature

3. Karma

4. And Positive Company/ energy around me.

I love myself. I embrace myself even though I am not the "prototype".

I am not all those things that I grew up being told made you pretty.

My face is not symmetrical, my skin not too clear, and my toes (smh) my toes are fat and short and stubby.

I am not complaining, not at all.

"Everything I'm not made me everything I am" so I am pleased

I can't help what's not symmetrical

but I can give up soda (@Frankeyz)

and my toes? You can all suck my toes. (I mean that with Love)

I do not feel inferior because my hair is very very short when it's wet or because I can't lay it down my back or because my skin is dark or because my toenails are hardly ever painted or because I have more African fabric than I do Forever 21 clothing

"No, you won't find me at no store. I have no time for manicures. with you it's never either or 'cause nothing even maters no more"

No one can love you like you can yourself. Unfortunately, in this world self Love takes practice. I have found release in literature tho.

It teaches you empathy so that you relate to another's hardship, happiness, sorrow, whatever. It broadens the mind and as I read (usually accompanied by music) I feel my heart and mind growing. Suddenly I  understand and care for people who in real life I would not have projected positive energy towards.

Sometimes that person you are learning to respect is yourself.

This sense of connectedness makes the world seem close to you

suddenly that vast space is condensed and you relate to everyone. You learn that all your quirky habits and lame jokes are accepted somewhere, somehow. You have options. The possibilities become endless. You know better how to accurately express yourself.

When your best friend breaks a dear promise

you are no longer -so mad!!-

you are irate

He isn't cute but instead he has -Kind eyes and a smile that refreshes like cold water on a dozing face-

there isn't -something about him-

instead - he awakens something in inside of you that you thought had gone away-

literature is key and with an appreciation for life and ppl you tend to treat ppl better because you relate to all life and feel their presence as part of the whole.

The Universe

and you know that the Universe is peace and while searching for peace you project goodness and thus create a stream of good karma in your life

blessing after blessing

this attracts individuals with positive natures who are seeking the same peace as you and you build on one another, stimulate each others thoughts, and engender dreams that uplift their hearts. There is support and drive. All of this pushes you to simultaneously want more- rather NEED more that what is provided in an average life of average thinking and practical goals, while always being satisfied.

"If I can't have what I want then my job is to want what I have and be satisfied that at least there is something more to want"

contradictorily peaceful but ALWAYS a soft urge pushing you to keep striving....

ummm. Yeah, The end!

-Jacqueline Naami

Biko.

*Anyone who knows me very well knows that I meet more strangers in one week than most people do in a month. I rarely ever approach these strangers, they usually approach me. Not necessarily wanting anything, just wanting to talk. Here is one such encounter...

I was standing at the train station last Friday waiting on a good friend of mine to pick me up when a strange man approached me from my left side and softly said

- Hello, I just wanted to say be careful with the light.-

I was confused so I con't to listen.

-The way the light is shining you can see straight through your dress-

That day I was wearing a dress that hadn't existed prior to me tying it around my body. It is really just a pink shawl that in the winter is a pink scarf and on a bad hair day is a head wrap and on a sunny day it is a curtain and at a picnic it is a blanket and I could go on but last Friday it was a pink sundress

I told him

-Thank you. I am wearing a slip though.-

-Oh-

he says

- well, I guess it is just your silohuette but be careful you don't cause any car accidents-

And he walked away. He was a Muslim man so he may have actually had real concern-  : /

either way later on the conversation continued

He asks for a pen

I look in my bag and grab one (I have several)

He says -thank you-

I tell him he can keep the pen (I do have several)

He says - Oh, I am just being blessed today-

I smile

he asks if I am fine

I say -yes-

He asks if I am sure

I say -yes, I am- 

He asks me my name

I say -Jacquie-

he says -What's your other name?-

I say-Emefa-

he looks surprised and tries to pronounce it

He asks if it's a Muslim name

I say- No, Ghanaian-

he says he plans to go there someday

He asks if I love myself

I say -yes-

He says- are you sure?-

I say- Yes, I am-

He says- Okay, everybody doesn't though, you know?-

I nod

He tells me he likes my hair

Loves that its natural

That when he sees a black woman with natural hair

he assumes she loves herself

-It's something I typically presume- he says

He says he knows some sisters with perms that had to get hysterectomies (I am not sure if one caused the other or if there is just some correlation)

I get up to leave

he hands me his card

he says-my name is Biko-

I am several feet away from him now

I can't hear what he is saying

-I'm sorry?- I say

he raises his chin and his voice- My name is Biko-

-Oh, like Stephen-

I don't ask this. I declare it

as I turn to continue towards the car I see him begin a slow nod

-Yes, exactly- Its faint but I hear it

I smile amused at how surprised this man seems to be by the fact that I know a little history

I sit in the car and turn the card over

his name was Stephen

Stephen Biko

I felt the Universe align slightly.

-Jacqueline Naami

Light It Up.

Waffle House Journaling

I keep trying to write about what I've been feeling lately. But it never works when I try. It's as though I am thinking so much at once that there is no true image. There is only space-absent of time-only a feeling

I've been thinking imageless thoughts. Thoughts reflected only in feelings.

and there is no particular one.
 It is this contradicting mix of peace and anxiousness
acceptance and a burning desire for change
expanded upon by an extreme feeling of endless hope  and a yearning for unchartered Love

All of this is inside of me all together at once.
spinning. swirling. turning. picking up strength and power as it gains velocity.
tearing me down inside until I reach that moment of still.

STILL. (there is power in stillness "He leads me beside still waters;
He restores my soul.")

You know the moment of which I speak. That moment enacted in so many films. That high intensity moment that becomes so climatic  that everything suddenly goes quiet and glass (for instance) is shattered in slow motion and you see every piece break rigidly from the other creating the most uniquely shaped jagged edges. spread in space like some mosaic masterpiece. beauty and a weapon.
in one shard of glass you see your face reflected- pain ridden and shocked and suspended in time.
The once earsplitting scene of uncontrollable chaos and noise is suddenly a suspension of complicated peace. Because you can feel yourself on the brink of resolution. There is peace in even the most painful resolution because there is a STILLNESS that comes with closure.

That's the feeling inside of me- a calming contradiction. a slow motion depiction of organized chaos.

I can feel myself on the brink of some intellectual maybe spiritual (maybe both)  break through.

I know that the combination that is guiding closer to my genesis is:

Self Love
Literature
Karma
And Positive Company/ energy around me.


I would go deeper into each one of those sectors as I did in my journal but probably no one will even take the time to read all of this to the very end.


-Jacqueline Naami

Refined Consciousness.

all of these fools stuck in yesterday are missing the point of now still talking about what they'll do tomorrow

when I am late. I often just relax and soften my gait but make each step deliberate. I hate to rush now. I hate to rush the moments. I am slooooow like that. I like to meander.

take my time. send the impulse to stand before I even rise. so that if your watching closely you might have caught me floating. so connected from the mind to body. I can jump in right at the opening. defying gravity.

because my walk transcends time. it is weightless. effortless. no ballet just straight spiritualness. flying now so that I can reach the sky tomorrow. explore this galaxy- so large I can't even begin to comprehend it and when I think of this Earth and the fact that it is just a miniscule dot in a never ending blanket of space 

never ending

space

never ending space

it gives me goosebumps

which remind me that I am human

which immediately humbles me

I kneel down and hail all to this powerful limitless Universe

for the Universe is God  

and God is energy

And Gods energy is positivity

and positivity is Love 

and Love

Love is all I ever wanted.... all in due time

 "you're so deep lately" 

I think I am just so BLACK lately

so proud lately

so hopeful lately

still myself but refined

"I am trying to protect what I keep inside. All the reasons why I live my life"

I want to love me. Love me more than you do.  Love me before I love you...

you...

who ever you are.

:) and I can't wait to meet you. 

(won't it be something if I already know you? Oh, how we'll laugh about that. How we missed what was right before our eyes but all in due time)

-Jacqueline Naami

DEOLA SAGOE

Napkin Scribble #4

swelling like a chest full of pride 

except keep the P and take the -ride 

for it was pain that was filling me inside

- a cardiac war- the loss eating me alive- 

battle ground was the heart- no armor- no remorse- 

just scars- and it hursts- 

call this a broken heart

cause where I lost

someone won

Napkin Scribble #3

that twisted and unexplainable feeling of dread in my gut

has been building pressure behind my eyes

my body-despite the demands of my mind- is threatening to to give way

I take deep breathes

head pounds like the drums of my Mother's Land--> the pain a result of not claiming the natural path

did you even follow that?

no time to make sure you overstand

no time to waste

we may have reached the end