compassion

Dear Strong Black Woman

| Sheree

I finally got around to buying Jennifer Sterling’s book, Dear Strong Black Woman: Letters of nourishment and reflection from one strong black woman to another. And beginning to read it.
I think I’ve been reluctant to read it as I was thinking it wouldn’t tell me anything new. And I think I was also not in the right place to face it, to face a big chunk of harsh reality.
I know what it’s like being a black woman in a predominately white world. In a world where my worth is questioned and examined daily and always come back wanting.
I’m a strong black woman and have had to become this way or live this stereotype for good reason. For survival. And being vulnerable and showing my weakness or even asking for help has been for decades non-negotiable. Not happening.
But I was wrong. This slim but powerful book is just what I need right now. As it speaks to my soul, it speaks to my suffering. It legitimatises my experiences and struggles. It’s a witness and a testimony to my existence. And I thank Jennifer for writing these letters to me and to other strong black women like me.
As hard as some of these letters are to read, they are the balm I need to keep moving through this world, strong but also vulnerable, open hearted and beautiful.

Why do I blog?

| Sheree

I’ve lost count of how many years I’ve been blogging now. I started out on blogger.com and created a blog that documented my creativity on a daily basis. I saw this as a practice, as way of developing my craft and to connect with others. That was the main reason in the beginning to blog and I don’t see it changing now.

I blog because it feels like I’m having a conversation with myself and with some one I’m really close to, a friend, at the same time. I blog to make sense of this life I live and the world I live in. I blog to share how I see the world at any given moment. I blog to communicate the highs and the lows. I blog to raise questions and enjoy seeking the answers.

There are times that I’ve fallen out of love with blogging. Times when I can’t be arsed to formulate a sentence never mind a coherent blogpost. But these times don’t last long and are far between.

Blogging is a habit and a good one at that. Not one that I need to kick but one I need to embrace more. Hence this #100daysproject challenge of blogging for a 100 days straight. I want to get back into that sweet spot of creating blog post, creating great content that support me on my quest of becoming at the same time as connecting with you.

Please let me know if it’s working. Or not!

Do you wanna know a secret?

| Sheree

Do you wanna know a secret?

Yes I thought that might get your attention. I’m willing to share my dirty little secret if you’re willing to listen?

Okay. Here goes.

I love Nordic Noir. There. It’s out now and I feel a whole heap better.

When I want to chill and relax and switch off, I switch on a Scandinavian crime drama or pick up a novel in the same genre.

There’s something about the landscapes that act as a backdrop for the crime, usually a grizzly murder, that holds my attention and enchants me. I know. Sick right! All these people getting bumped off and there’s blood and guts everywhere and I’m mesmerised by the ice and snow and the mountains that set the scene.

This genre is quality storytelling as well and solid characterisation and suspense and tension too.

I can binge watch a whole series or read a whole book in a evening ( and into early morning) when I get into a certain groove and I’m not ashamed to tell you. At the moment I’ve been making my way through Walter Presents series on All 4. Last night was Rebecka Martinsson: Arctic Murders. A Stockholm lawyer who returns to her hometown after a childhood friend’s death. And isn’t her home town remote, icy and full is lakes and mountains? Beautiful.

I know it’s pure escapism but from time to time it’s good for me, or anyone really, to suspend reality and slip into another, usually distant from the norm, world. I do believe it supports me in my day to day living and striving and thriving. A little sanctuary of make believe. I highly recommend it, I do.

A Love Letter to the Sea

| Sheree

Oh my. I have missed you. My life. I didn’t know how much until I re-entered you again this morning at first light.

My soul began to hum again and then began to sing once more. I’d almost forgotten what she sounded like. I’d almost forgotten myself.

There was colour in my life but not technicolour; fizzy, vibrate reds and oranges and yellows and turquoise. These singing colours have been missing until this morning. Thank you.

I do feel cleansed and purified and detoxed and lighter. My skin is stinging. My feet are tingling. I might well lose the sensation in my toes but it was worth it to get back together with you.

You hold me captive but not against my will. You just keep coming at me. Light upon a crest of a wave. A constant. Washing a little bit more of me with each cold, cold caress. Until I can take no more. And I don’t mean I leave you. No. It means I need more of you, all of you. All over me. So I sink down and take you in, all over me. The pain and pleasure mingle together to escape into a deep guttural sigh. Relief and release. Joy definitely.

But also a sacredness which colours me with grace and gratitude and love.

I’ve never through of us together as a spiritual experience. But this is the most holiest of communions for me. Nothing else compares to this, not even sex.

Here I can take you whenever I want or need. But this is not possession. There is no possession of you because you are wild and free. What it is is a surrender. Almost like praying. An appreciation and inspiration. A giving of thanks. An admiration. You are so beautiful to be with. With your dark seeping liquid, this morning like mercury, tomorrow maybe like glass.

You fill me up with love and goodness and joy. And it’s the kind of love, I want to share. It’s the kind of love from which patience and compassion flows freely. There are no obstacles, boulders in its path. It gushes this love. At times like a geyser and at others like a waterfall. Never ending, always flowing from source to sea.

Or should I say seas as you are never the same sea twice. And for which I am in awe as well as in deep appreciation.

I know I depend on you but I never knew how much until now. Until this moment. This time I come to you bruised and wounded and scared and without hope.You have renewed my hope. You have blessed me with you just being you.

I planned to be with you this morning and I made it happen. But you did all the work that needed to be done almost effortlessly. You made me whole again. You healed me. Thank you.

Remembering the Fun

| Sheree

In December, I gave myself the task of painting practice. I started off with lines. It started well but I soon lost interest when I wasn’t seeing the results I wanted. My pieces didn’t look as good as the examples I had seen been created by certain artists. I felt demoralised falling into that comparison trap. I gave up, telling myself I was no good and a fraud. I was being the party pooper.

This is a habit I’ve fallen into quite a lot over the years. Forgetting that it took the master painters years before they reached the point of being any good or gaining recognition. And some, for example like Vincent van Gogh, didn’t gain recognition until after their death. Right up to that point, Van Gogh still kept practicing and painting never giving up on his vision, his craft. And only through Jo van Gogh-Bonger, his sister-in-law, loaning and selling his paintings and publishing van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo, her husband, did he gain his rightful place in art history.

For this to happen, after his death which he had no way of knowing, he had to do the work. He still had to show up and paint and make mistakes. Face disappointments and worries and doubts. He still had to believe in himself.

When things are difficult and not turning out the way you envisioned while creating, it can be a Herculean feat to keep believing in yourself and what you are trying to do. It is easy to give up, as I did in December. The pressure I was putting on myself to be good just wasn’t warranted. It took all the fun out of it. I’d forgotten I was only supposed to be playing and having fun not creating masterpieces.

This year, I’m up for some fun. I’m taking the pressure off myself and taking more risks just for the hell of it. For the thrill. I’m excited to see where this leads in my practice. I’m keeping my eyes on my page and seeking all the delights it can bring.

Happy New Year – 2020 – Power to the People

| Sheree

I meant to get here earlier but after a late night, my new year has started slowly. But I’m not complaining, as I strongly believe in slow and steady. It’s how I run all my marathons and how I win them. Win them meaning finishing in one piece. I’m always competing against myself, winning this race called life daily as I become closer and closer to my true self. Daily as I choose me over anyone else. It’s not a natural practice as society isn’t set up to take care of number one. We’re taught this behaviour is selfish and are made to feel guilty if we for a moment decide to put ourselves first in the workplace, in a relationship, in our own lives.

I’ve been on this path for nearly five years now of cultivating self-love, self-care and authenticity. What’s supported me through this process has been choosing a word for the year. A word or concept that I have drawn upon to guide me along this path.

2015 – Voice. 2016 – Water. 2017 – Practice. 2018 – Shakti. 2019 – Love.

I feel all these words have complimented and build upon each other, to the point of reaching 2020 and my word of the year being a natural projection of all that has gone before. All that I’m becoming.

POWER is my word of 2020. Stepping into my power. Taking back my power. Living my power. This is the focus of 2020.

I can’t wait to see feel and experience everything that unfolds. But I’m not rushing anything. Slow and steady wins my race.

Happy New Year everyone. 2020, here we come.