Women are the healers, the nurturers, the mothers, the daughters, the wives. We take care of the men; we birth sons and raise kings. Sing to our daughters and crown queens.

Women are opressed because of their power, not because of their weakness.

I realize the reason I’m smitten with other cultures because I feel lost in mind.

Bi-racial tends to only be recognized in america as White with Black

I’m indian, dutch, portugese, black….and everything in between that auntie so and so may whisper about in the next room out of my ear’s reach

How do I reconcile Diwali, Winter Solstice and Christmas?

How do I pass on Namaskar, Yo, What a gwan gyul and let’s go buss a lil wine at this fete coming up? As harsh as curry powder staining hands, yams with steamed fish, macaroni pie, doubles…how do I explain to my children urdu, trini slang, american english, english…and the culture of their father.

Do we loose a part of our identity with each generation? Is that why we are so disconnected from ourselves not only as races of people but as people? Is this why we don’t greet elders, our men don’t hold doors open, our children don’t say please and thank you…we’re assimilating in a country who’s cultures itself is an assimilation. Orators, our poets are lost in the wind, scattered, holding on to a dying craft that used to be revered. We have no stories. We have no dreams.

I will try my hardest to explain why there are tulsi trees planted in front of my grandparents house, why make pepperpot during christmas, why we make punch-a-creme. Why children suck it up and obey their parents even when they are older and know that they may not be right.

I fell in love with his mother

All flesh and soft and inherently female

I smell her on my skin when it warms

her curly hair, smiling face

she moves me

She is everything I’ve wanted to be

warm, giving, open, sweet and decisive

wise and undeniable

She treats me as if shes had nine months to prepare

for my birth in her first kiss

followed by two others,

smooth, swift

and tender

arms around me, solid embrace and I lose myself there

I’ve dreamed of her and it seems I am born again in my the way she looks at the way her son looks at me

My eyes go back and forth, from him to her and back again

their native tongue is evervescent and hypnotizing

loving and plutonic

thick and mesmerizing in a way that no other language can draw you to it

she is the first woman

mother, wife, nurturer and I am enraptured in her beauty

in the effortless way it seems her feet never touch the ground

gabi around her

sweet tea in hand

bread in plate

I fell in love with her

She is what I want my mother to be

I bite my tongue from unburdening my life to her

to ask her if I am worthy

of her love

of her time

of her son

of her family

I hope I can live up to what she wants for him

I hope she sees nothing but love inside of me

I pray that through this, I can understand god

That I can be a good wife

A wonderful mother

and a blessed child.

I wish she could have met my grandfather. She is everything I remember of him.

The people you would die for, would they die for you in turn?  Would you die for them still if the answer was no?

You are my blood but I don’t believe I’m a part of you.

I miss Loki.

He was the best cat in the world.

Even my cat, knows that Halo is the business.

For most of you who know me, which lets be frank, isn’t a lot of you; you know that I don’t have a huge belief system that ties in with religion. I believe in the inherent goodness and darkness than lies in every soul and I believe that life is your journey in finding out whether you live your life in the shade or in the light.

I’ve been asked over and over again what my religious affiliation is and the response is always almost the same: I grew up Hindu, my mother is radically protestant, the extended family is More so catholic but follow old West Indian traditions that they grew up with which translates to Indian which translates to Indian.

At the end of the day, I was raised to be a good person. All of my values were pointedly taught and learned. Do good for others without expectancy, nurture the world around you, live like tomorrow is never promised, cherish the people you love, die for those you care for etc…God was just a word that brought everything together.

Now that I’m older I can definitely say that I’m more cynic than blind believer. I know God, or whatever he/she/it is called can accept that since I am merely made in his/her/their image. Historically, Jesus is not someone I can put my money on. I do not believe in the Historical Jesus. Symbolically, he makes sense, like all the other gods of old cultures that have died and lived in the exact likeness of the sacrificial lamb. Jesus, is a metaphor in my mind, for what every person can be, he is the example of what a Father would want, would like for each of his children. God never meant, in my understanding for Jesus to be worshiped. Let me give you an example, if you dad is a Neurosurgeon, would the hospital call you into work if your dad was unavailable? Checkmate.

God is the core of all things. God is the way a lover smiles, the way the sun helps plants grow, how roses blossom, how a river swells, how children see people for what they really are, how our eyes perceive color, how our tongue tastes..god is the representation of everything we can’t explain, everything we wish we understood, everything we know we could never comprehend. God is a thought. An idea. A compartmentalization of greatness, existential, ethereal awesomeness that is illusive and beyond our influence.

Religion boils down to powerful/influential men convincing you that you have to follow their guidelines in order to experience God, in his/her/its full glory. The only way to give thanks isn’t crying prostrate in church on sunday, or not moving a muscle on the sabbath, or even aarti at Mandir. The way that you experience god is to find him/her/it in the stillness when everything you feel and think can be transcended, can be lifted and moved…when your mind and body are ready to take in a higher power, you naturally open up to the encounter. The reason why people spend years falling deeper and deeper into religion and never feel anything but still go on, is because they are convinced that seeking god means disappointment, prayers will go unanswered, heartbreak and loneliness will follow. A network of people going through the same things, seeking god…becomes convincing.

Oh, and just so we’re clear. I’m not judging. I’m sharing. I was one of the people who spent all their free time at church, hell, I lived in the same building as the church. Worked at the church, was in the choir, taught Sunday school, assistant to the youth pastor. I was there for everything. I felt nothing. I was empty. I was bored, and while I was there, I came to understand that most people who were at church felt the same way. I stopped going, because I couldn’t bear the charade.

Looking for answers lead me to a quiet place. Where I was at peace. Where I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone else.

I’ve always respected religion, and its ability to tame people who have no value system and make them afraid of the unknown. I respect the community aspect of churches and how good they can be for people who have nothing else. I don’t respect people who judge me because I am no longer one of them. Sheep. I dislike people who try to force their religion on me. You are not better than me because you have rules on how to be a good person and I don’t. Don’t look down your nose at me. Ever. I’m normally more than willing to put a religious zealot in their place. With all of this said, I encourage everyone to explore their religious options at all times never forgetting that it is always a choice. Yes, there is a higher power, but because it is just that, we have no idea of the implications, we can not understand or explain it to someone else.

I wish everyone best of luck in their spiritual journeys and I hope that we all get to nirvana.

/bows/

I watched his eyes fade to black

his heart turn cold.

Eh.

I don’t know how to is the bottom line. I have Costochondritis which is a schmancy way of saying my ribs/cartilage in my chest are inflammed.

I’m working on it.

Hopefully in a week or two, I’ll be back to 100% and can run around like a chicken with its head cut off again.

Happy Thanksgiving…in advance.

This week I’m forced to accept that my life may not be as long as I orginally thought. As someone in my early twenties, the common misconception is that the young are invincible.

I woke up to chest pains two days ago, out of a dream I believe, of heartbreak. I got up, determined to make it through the day as sure as the pain was determined to capture my attention. The train ride to work, the doctor’s visit, the argument with my significant other…led me to realize one simple truth. I am not accustomed to anyone caring about my health or even badgering me about it. I mean, my family cares I’m sure but I believe it is because they have to.  So, with a playful smile and a deep breath I call him on the phone to explain that the walls of my chest are inflamed, that my blood pressure is too high and that I hopefully will be okay by next week.

What followed was an argument I couldn’t bear about how I don’t rest, or eat or care for myself enough and how I don’t allow anyone else to do it for me. And now, the day after…spending the day in bed, away from everyone I love…I know he’s right. I’ve never cared enough about myself to want to be healthy, all the risks for my health have been constant and not a secret and I didn’t make an effort to do anything about it. I could eat better, I could eat more, I could take more supplements, I could rest more…but I’ve never had to. There’s never really been anyone around to worry and now there is. His worry for me is extraordinary.  It breeds an anger and hatred toward anything that is mildly distracting myself from being better, even when he’s the cause.

So, I will apologize, I will be better, I will get right and I will make him smile. Simply because, a smile from him is better for my heart than all the medication that can be described.

<3

I need to know.
Who are you?
Where did you come from?

Stop.

Remember me?
Remind me
Console me
Hurt me

Play

Anoint me
Dethrone me

Who am I?
Who are we?
When are we going home?