Marah Ruby & People Like you…

Marah Ruby – you are so beautiful and gentle. Your truth shines through. Thank you for having a daily courage to be you. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY-WwWjk9g0

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Chill

The Russian Soul of an African & American me. I really think this is why I am able to empathize and have hunger for the world and it’s people. This is something I am convinced of I have in me.

Peace Corps in many ways I think you are calling me more than I thought I was ready for when I began to pursue you again back in September. I am still fresh in the application process with an interview happening hopefully as early as January, but something tells me it was not all in vain and by an accident that I pressed the send button before I was ready to submit my application two months ago.

I crave to be believed in and supported to pursue something very big in my life. I need it. I ask the Universe to unveil that which is destined for me to grow with and from.

I have also conteplated for months now to just write the X. YES I KNOW THE CONVENTIONAL BULLSHIT stuff that you shouldn’t, yadda, yadda, yadda stuff. But I am me, and I am unafraid to live by my truth. Plus falling flat on my face has showed me that I am resilient, kind, generous, still loving and very much unique in my own ways. Plus yesterday it already made me feel much better after literally months of what felt like growing a mini ball of sadness even inside my body. Let him laugh, or just erase the messages. I am shamelessly unashamed and what the heck do I have to lose in being brave? Nothing. For when you bare it all you are prepared to be naked and that I mean by being naked in your soul. The other nakedness has already been shared.

Perhaps because “the point is to free yourself from what cost your heart even more…” and that is the love which was shared some distant days ago….

In the meantime I am banning myself from facebook for at least two days. Wow.

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A blind moment

I just hit a car. A neighbor’s car while parallel parking. Thanks to the universe though it really is only a scratch and the reaction from the owner was more than comforting. It’s deeper than the accident though, especially considering why it happened.

I always had a very vivid imagination. I knew it, even if I did not show it per se in terms of manifesting it into some sort of artistic product. I don’t know how to play any instruments. I think I can sing but I am in no way a singer by any means. I don’t really draw, though I enjoy it though. I do write though and think a lot. In my imagination I always think of one thing, then another, then third and stories are made, even if they are never told. I write. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes it is hard to express in words…or should I say quick enough to write everything down. Though even looking back at the start of this paragraph alone I can see I am lying even to myself. Too many “I don’ts here. Just last night I was driving in my car to work and had an out loud conversation with no one to listen to in German. I don’t speak German…scratch that. I do! I have recorded some dancing sessions of myself as I was moved by the music to express what my soul and mind were feeling at the moment. I am not trained in any type of dance, yet I have always danced – the music always moves me. I have recorded freestyle songs for only but myself just last months ago. I am artistic…whatever that means. I am creative I know this. Yet I transgress. The accident.

I hit the car. I did not even see it. Not for a moment did I see it. How could that be? Simple. I was in another world, consumed by the pain that I feel inside which in reality has never been dealt with to the point that it needs too. You can’t escape some things, no matter how much you try. Trust me. I declared to my mother that I am not surprised yet still affected each and every time I do not hear a positive thing of “Ok, well that plan sounds interesting, now hear me out on what I think?” I never outwardly lived the pain that I feel inside. The feeling that I am not good enough to be loved by my own parents. Just once to be told, “Look, you are very different from us…we see it, but we love you no matter what.” I don’t need money – I just need a hug. A sense that you love me enough to just say, “We don’t believe in this personally, but if you do then there must something you feel and we love you enough to think it is not a crazy thought.” I am asking for a lot? I forgave the abuse…yes it was a torturous abuse that I did not deserve by any means. No one can justify it, because I was not raised in the same environment they were therefore to me I can only describe it as “abuse”, not cultural norm.  No child in any culture deserves that. Yet I am grateful to the clarity to accept this and not be forever crippled by all of the surreal cruelty towards me during my childhood. I feel for that little girl though still. She is still in me. She is often confused but stays very silent about it all. I did not chose to be a child of a diaspora. I did not chose to be affected in all the ways that I was and become who I am now fully. I did not chose to be so colorfully creative in my thoughts. Or did I? Do I? I think I am doing much better this time around. Shit. Last time I was hit with this situation of uncovering the wounds I fell into the big D. Yes, I came out of it. What seemed like alone. But I did. I won’t go down that path again. It was a very dark, hopeless, consuming and exhausting path of self disintegration. If I did not vow before, I vow now to never go down that path again. Never. I will cry it all out, make a full of myself talking and writing about my struggles, but never go down that path again. It was an awful place to be.  I better write about this then feel anger or self pity. That is the medicine; to still think and bring it out rather than let it rot inside.

I am proud of me really. Even if I accept that I myself am a bit weird. I just need a hug. I just need my mother’s hug.

So yes, hi my name is________ and I have mommy issues.

Anyways more is cried out than can be written.

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Fear is trumping. I sense such good inner vibes of strength and calmness in me. Fear is a bad wolf which should not be invited to any dinners; really avoid at all costs. I suppose fearlessness with humility and trust in the Universe is a healing power which I chose to cultivate instead.

I would say I am poor, yet I do not starve. My health insurance is soon to be gone, yet I see venues to have the care I nee right now.

I said something very frank to my mother this morning. That we don’t have and never really did have much to talk about in general but it doesn’t mean I hate her. It is just how our relationship over the years unraveled. I am really learning to be content with that.

There are themed entries I would love to write about my experience in Berlin from my perspective which encompasses a very intricate self-identity. And another one on hair. My hair journey.

Now on to the daily tasks. These are mental notes for drafts.

Now

Aside