RIPE: Fruit of Life

My little hands pushed away the tight coiled hairs from her teary-eyed face. I see an older reflection of me broken by familiar hands like rocks to a glass house. Made in her image, she gently grabbed my hands from her face.

“Don’t be ever be ripe enough for a man to eat you”
“What do you mean, mommy?”

Her caress pulled me in close to her chest, playing with my hair that she made in her image. Seeing the living impression of her she continued,

“Baby, you have are made by mother nature. Skin dyed by the sun, kissed by its rays. In you contain mothers nature. You are the fruit of it,” she smiled and grabbed my tiny nose.

I giggled, “Can I be an apple mommy, I like apples?

“You can be any fruit you want to be honey. You contain the seeds of life. You are the soil that forth the flowers. You have tears that cleanses me, you are joy, you are the smile on my face. You are power. You are black. Let no one, no man, nobody take it away from you. You have a power to move worlds and they know that. You are a woman.

I shot her a look of confusion, unaware of anything, “I just want to be an apple because they are sweet!”

Beneath The Benevolent Sun

It started with one phone call from an unknown area code, then over the next few days the calls became relentless. Twice a day, seven days, from two different numbers on both my cell phone and home phone. With every missed call followed a voicemail on each device. Usually, I don’t bother to listen to voicemail’s, however, I decided to be an obedient twenty-three year old and follow up. That’s when I realized it was her! She has been notoriously known for decades as dark gray clouds looming beneath the benevolent sun. As you see, what was once a shadow ingeniously creeping from behind when I nourish my face in the warm sun is now hazing every corner of my being. An inevitable event when one chooses to follow the ideal path of society. The grave rumors about her power, a power that can cast a vanishing spell on you financially, weekly or bi-weekly. If you haven’t figured her out yet, her name is Donald Trump–I mean Sallie-Mae. She found me.

I had just freshly showered when the time neared a half hour past eight. The morning sun still young yet strong with her rays illuminating my messy room when the unknown–well, now, well known area code appeared on my cell phone. I cursed the air before I answered, “Hello?” This time her voice was deep and masculine trying to ask if it was I who was on the other end on the phone. Like, don’t play stupid with me. This ill-famed monster has been tirelessly sending her minions out to harass me every chance she gets. She know’s who I am. I know who Sallie-Mae is. Let’s cut the crap!  Of course, the topic was about a payment I was unsure of, in fact, I did not even know a payment had past let alone start! The new voice asked for my way of paying, either debit or credit. I should’ve said stripping, prostituting, occasional drug dealing. Sniffing coke to cope. “Debit,” I said. I forward all of my information when it occurred to me he may possibly be charging my card immediately!

“Wait, are you charging my card right now?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute, damn did you even see if I can pay right now! I don’t have the money at the moment.”
“I can push the date back until the thirtieth, but you need to pay before you mess up the co-signers credit score.”

Fuck. That means my mother. I hung up the phone, sat on my bed to pace my breath before I wet the tip of my fingers. fixing my posture, trying to be a big boy, I starred into the morning sun about to hide behind the building. It was something I wanted to do a the moment. Crawl and hide. Yeah, it sounds very immature. You’re probably saying how I need to man up, deal with it, it’s life, and all the other evasive sayings. The matter is, I don’t believe in that way of living: Suffocating under loans and debit while making income that barely scratches the surface, because I want try and find myself, solidify my identity the past six years. I’m only twenty three. I’m only twenty three.

I am only two decades and three years in and already I have IRS and his wife Sallie-Mae down my throat choking my prime years and other bills…Yes, other bills. Food, grooming, clothes, hobbies, school, phone, transportation. In other words, I see how depression is very profitable to the Big Pharma. Not saying I am there….yet. On a positive note, there is always good food. That will always be there.

 

Until I heard

It was at night when the street lights trickled through the blinds and fall partially on us that I learned how to feel with only hearing. Hearing her slide in between my brother and I after a long night of belting harsh words to my father. She would hysterically sob so softly trying not to wake my brother. It was in these moments I can hear the soulful tears commit suicide off the edge of her eyes and be caught by the covers of the bed.

I heard yearning for a better environment for her sons. I listened to a woman bearing the last straw while trying to accumulate more. My ears caught the hate that burned in her heart like the devils juice that burned my fathers chest every weekend.

I knew nothing to do but to listen and put my young cheek up against hers that met with tears that agreed with the both of us.

I tasted nothing when I swallowed the knot of fear stuck in my throat. I saw the silhouette the street lights carved out from the dark. I felt damp linen, but I truly did not feel until heard.

The Sunday Service in Whole Foods

The wonderful array of books, books, and more books, neatly placed on the shelves of Barnes & Noble  all in different size, colors and titles. Colorful literature with the only worry to decipher which lucky author will fulfill me today. I arrived thirty minutes early to my 7pm meet up in Whole Foods on Union Square eager to burn the isle of Barnes&Nobles with my curiosity. I spent the time pandering through the Ancient Knowledge & Hidden Mysteries, and Self-Help sections–my favorite sections ever! Picking up books that spoke deeply about Ancient Egypt and other Ancient Civilizations is a yearning of mine. I adore bridge the gap between my past and present. Plus, I am convinced humans were much more responsible and connected then todays dogma of connectivity and responsibility. Checking my phone after beating the strong wave of indecision that paralyzed me for the last fifteen-minutes, it read 7:04pm. Even when I try to be on time, I am late. It’s embedded in DNA like HTML Codes for me to be tardy.  I sent a text to my, in lack of better terms, friend that I am near while asking for his location for I surprisingly didn’t receive a text confirming my incessant tardiness.

I make way down Union Square park. The sun hid completely  on the other side of the world letting them know its soon to start a new day leaving the city the never sleeps to keep up the nightly duties. The bustling cars passed, people expediting streets,  and a couple romancing with the female shooting a quick look at me while laughing at her boyfriends tender kisses. Ahead of me reads the large green sign Whole Foods, fairly considerable in size in comparison to the competing stores but, not beating the famous numbers that stand high across a building. The numbers that rumored the end of the time, when in reality it just reads the time in military on the left and how many hours are before the hour struck 12 on the right.  I enter the health food realm with excitement until I despairingly saw the elongated lines.

I didn’t to come to spend anymore money though, I came to deliver these CD’s to a friend after a failed experience on trying to join their business plan–but that’s another story! I walk the stairs that was once unknown to me for many years. It lead to an open cafeteria filled with my dynamic people eating, talking, doing tarot cards and…with honor… people conducting a service of the Lord.

My friend raised his hand as I see him sitting next to people foreign to me. My blood began to boil in this short distance to him. I hoped to God that these strangers were not part of his team in which imagined him asking me belittling questions in front them: “Did you watch the CD’s? “, “No!, Well, why haven’t you?”, “You’re making excuses, you don’t have the success mentality like we spoke about. Remember you don’t want live in the employer quadrant!” Remember, remember, remember…Just know, I had comebacks for any and which way the windblown if his colleagues tried me.

At the table, an elderly lady sit comfortably in a black wool jacket with a matching hat. The wrinkles on her face etched and sketched every inch of her face. Another lady in a gray loose fitting sweater with fine short hair and supple brown skin sat on the end of the table. A black bag filled with books and a really bad, brown, unkept, shiny synthetic wig on top of it separated the two ladies. That wig, that beast, that horse hair was horrendous!  As I eyed this scene with much bewilderment,  I caught on my friend on the receiving end of the table. He sat with his legs crossed  and titled attentively listening to what I soon was about to learn.

I placed my bad on the table ready to pull of the agreement and leave immediately. No conversing, no trying to be friends, nothing but my ass on the 5 Train and my nose in my new book. “Are these your friends?” I asked with my face is slight disgust pointing at the weirdness in front of me. The lady in the gray sweater interrupts my question telling Ronald, the friend, to meditate on something. So I asked Ronald what were they talking about. I thought since the lady said meditate that this must be a conversation I would dive into with joy. Maybe these unknowns aren’t as weird as I thought to be. Maybe there wouldn’t a be rush to head home. Ronald who had on an orange dashiki I’m sure was made in Thailand and not Africa, shot a look up at me, “These are just people, we’re talking about being GAY.” Must he put so much emphasis on the word gay. I shook my head at the stupidity. I refused to get into some debate about sexuality. And for him to yet again talk to strangers, why couldn’t he sit alone like a normal New Yorker and be in his phone patiently  waiting for the CD’s? Have not his parents told him the adolescence rule about speaking to strangers. However, if they lured him in with candy…I want one.

Still confused as to how meditation met with being gay in a discussion, the old white lady rises from her seat in disbelief. “Something is wrong with you,” she said to Ronald.  Ronald combats her phobia  by telling me how she believes being gay is wrong for, yet of course, religious reasons. She turns to me slipping through the cracks of the tables, she was very soft spoken, so caring the tone of her voice that her ignorance felt loving and right. It wasn’t.  The lady in gray finally looks up at me. I was caught by surprise by her crossed eyedness. Things just now got too awkward. “You gay too?” asked the delicate toned elderly. “Nah, I’m straight. I don’t go through their struggles,” I said sarcastically. See, this the deal. I don’t like foolish questions that is none of anybody’s business. In these scenarios, I purposely lie in front of your face. It messes with ones prejudice or fools them completely, in the same moment, their ignorance speaks for them, as they often don’t hold back on words. “Good for you, You should speak to your friend about it,” Grandma suggested.  The lady in gray asked the same invasive  question so quickly with diligence it came off more as a proclamation then inquiry. I completely ignored her and looked to Ronald who still sat his chair sullen. His face appeared docile, innocent, and pale in expression.  The lady in gray goes in this whole sermon after Betty White trailed her nun looking ass out of our vision.

She rants horribly on how Ronald needs to meditate on his life decisions. Then detailed explained God’s workings in first person as if her consciousness was high enough to even speak for an entity the human race as a whole is slowly trying to understand. And so she went on:  “You see that lady next me I didn’t know and when she told me to take off my wig, I knew that was God speaking to me because she is a lady of faith, this is how God works. He expresses himself through you and I. He left his word. Don’t worry I accept you.” This angered me, how are you going to say you accept someone and tell one to meditate on how to live their life? When I addressed that to her, she fires her acceptance to me. Bitch, I don’t need you to accept me! I don’t even know you! How dare she flaunt her fake forgiveness in my face. The audacity of it all, be it that miserable, disgraceful relationship between her and that dirty, filthy, shit colored wig! I wanted to tell her so badly to meditate and accept that furry animal she hides under.

Instead I zipped my bag and left with Ronald following after me. The incident moments before I left in the past though Ron still felt indifferent. I made a pit stop at the Bank when he asked about my next moves, “I’m going home.”  He remained quiet before spilling out his feelings, “I’m really hurt…” I didn’t pay any mind, I was too focus on the ATM and how much money I was going to withdraw. I think twenty is doable. To be quite honest, I didn’t really care how he felt.  He has this tendency to speak to me in a chastising way especially during our business ordeal. A nasty distaste is left in my mouth refusing to care at all.

” I need a hug,” he commanded. At this point, was he just trying to stall? Because, I’m not for the nuisances and the woe is me narrative. No one told him to speak to strangers and actually sit there defenseless.  He actually agreed to meditate  on it! He made them feel right, he made himself feel weak. I glanced at him sharply, “Aw, you feel bad?” He nodded meekly before me. Just when he thought I was going to confide him in my arms like a protective brother, I pat him ever so lightly on the back. “Aw You’re a big boy. You’ll be ‘iight. When people try to undervalue me in passive aggressive ways I ignore it, or read the shit out of them, depending on the battle.” I cracked a half way smile hoping he caught the undertone shade I threw.  “You know before you came,” He started, “They old lady said, something worst then AIDS is coming my way and I am going to suffer.” My  eyes widened in disbelief. “Yeah, and to the black lady she said ‘You should take off that wig. I know it’s fake. You’re never going to get a man with that hair on.’ ” I blurted out laughing so hysterically I collided with a few pedestrians. I couldn’t believe the level of hate was going on at one table! He stood there lifeless in his poise as I tried to pick myself up and regain my composure. “I’m sorry,” I said wiping the saliva off my chin, “The health read is horrible  and this is why I don’t indulge in bitter people like her but, she flamed that other chick so badly. Now that was a classic!” He didn’t move an inch. “You know,” Ronald continued, “It’s hurts more because I am a Christian too!”  I took a deep sigh, knowing this was my cue to go home, “Well, these are your peoples. This is what they do. Hey, what can you do about it.” Placing on hand on his shoulder giving him a few shakes to wake him up from his state, I bid farewell.

I got my ass right on that 5 train, with my nose in my new book called, Science of the Mind.

 

 

 

The Master Cleanse: Day 2

         Day 2 is now complete and it went very smoothly.
I had about 64 oz of juice.
It’s recommended to drink six to twelve glasses of 8oz lemon cleanse.

I’m going to explain probably in the middle of the week how I break down this cleanse for the times I am at work.
My energy in day 2 was stabled, however its always the early morning of that I–guess you can say–suffer the most. It’s because of the laxative. After I drink the smooth move at night, by 4 am my stomach is in pain thus waking me up. It feels like a thousand pounds of cramps. It’ daunting like no other and when I eliminate it’s like a pea size. I assume that will be the best time to drink the salt water flush since it acts like a rinse for the system.

It was the same going into Day 3.

I am going to try to maybe drink another bag of laxative tea to better eliminate. I have to say though so far nothing crazy or dramatic going on. I am some how rushing this cleanse to clear my skin, but I keep forgetting it’s only day 2.

Well, that’s all for now! Ciao!

The Master Cleanse: Day 1

Alright! so, I finally after almost 5 years of forgetting, remembering, not having enough money, to having enough then splurging on other things, to presently having the money again, I can actually say I started The Master Cleanse.  What is The Master Cleanse (TMC)? It’s has many names such as Lemonade Diet, Lemon Cleanse, Beyonce Diet, etc. The original cleanse, created by Stanley Burroughs, consists of the following…

• 2 Tablespoons of lemon or lime juice (approx. 1⁄2 lemon)

• 2 Tablespoons of Organic maple syrup (Grade B)

• 1/10 Teaspoon of cayenne pepper.

• 8oz water, room temperature or cold

• Sea salt water ( Real non-iodine sea salt)
• Laxative Herbal Tea

The purpose of this is not just to loose weight. I’ve seen a lot of people use this detox as a means of just loosing weight, especially here in America because that’s what only eating healthy is for forgetting about the soulful benefits of it all! Skinny/slim/avg/underweight people can use this detox as well and not loose dramatic amounts of pounds but relatively maintain a healthy weight or even gain a little. Yes, it is possible.

I personally am using this detox to restore my body. I want to rid the toxins I have accumulated through the fast foods and other chemicals I drenched my body in. I want to rid this acne issue and clear up my skin, I want to reset my digestive track which has been badly mistreated by me and my gluttony. Improve my flexibility, if possible, and just overall feel good, clear, and healthy. I am already in the middle of Day 2, but I am going to explain how day one went.

 Day 1

The night before, I took my smooth move laxative herbal tea that hit me hard in the morning following the salt water flush. I didn’t have many bathroom runs only two which I was cool with. I had orange juice a few hours later by accident, it was a small amount, so I figured I’ll continue with the cleanse. I went to buy all my supplies realizing how expensive organic lemons can be. It was a slight turn off, but I said, “No! this is for a greater purpose.” I made my first concoction about 4 pm, It was very late in the day, I know. It was actually pretty good! I am ecstatic about tasting real maple syrup. It’s amazing! it’s so good! I even sometimes sneak in an extra tablespoon just to taste. I wouldn’t be completely honest if I said I haven’t thought about drinking it straight. I want a maple tree in my backyard. Anyways, day 1 is always easiest. I did find it quite interesting how around 11pm I got really hungry and I just had 32oz juice less then 15 mins prior. Although I felt full I had a strong craving or sensation to eat again. Then I notice that around 11pm is usually when I have dinner since I always come home late…Interesting, aye!

 

The Raven-Symonè Syndrome: Blacks Agreeing with Raven-Symonè’s Discrimination

After Raven-Symonè made her outlandish comment on The View stating she would not hire people with black names or more specifically names like “watermelon-andrea”, the black community came together once again to take her to her grave. Be it on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram the black presence was a stern one in siding against her, because to be quite frank, she was referring to your friend, family or you! Raven had already caught her first strike from the Oprah interview when she gleefully disassociating herself from the black community. You know, usually most Disney Kid stars (or any kid Star for that matter) goes through that phase to exile themselves from the innocent characters they play by overtly selling sex, doing hard drugs, or become Miley Cyrus for a few months, but miss Raven-Symonè no! She chose to embarrass herself in such a way that it will hit her fans to the core. She choose to tamper with the identity of other people, carelessly! As you see, people like Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears, Olsen Twins, Miley Cyrus, and more had their own fall out from the “good-girl” image that was personal to them, where the supporters can watch and ride reconstruction wave with them. Raven on the other hand, You can’t even explain it, you have to name it for what it is and i’m calling it the Raven-Symonè Syndrome.

What is the Raven-Symonè Syndrome? It’s when a person disassociates themselves from a community while still looking like the community and not assimilating into another entirely, to then discriminate against the people you were once-if ever- connected to. In other words, anybody that is sounding like miss thing on The View. Morosely, I seen a lot of this going on in many social media platforms. And it’s sad, it’s very sad! Blacks left and right are agreeing saying things like, “Well, she has a point, these ghetto names are getting out of hand,” or “I won’t hire anybody either with that name.” Now, in reality we all know they are not talking about the name “watermelon-andrea,” but names like Laquashia, Shaquashia, Latoya, Shaneneh, Rashida, Moesha, and so forth. So to those that this applies to please help me break down your logic! The people that are proudly agreeing have no business in which they can even remotely filter out any “ghetto names” nor they even have a entrepreneurship plan set to go in fruition tomorrow. Granted, you don’t need to own a business to hire someone, but as a black person you mean to tell me you will not hire another brother or sister because of name they ultimately did not choose? If you cannot look past a person’s name before actually viewing their character, then there’s something psychologically wrong with you.  It’s the ones that complain about lateefa not having a job and being on welfare, but yet prevent her from getting a job because of her name. Please explain to me in what form does this correlation makes sense!

It is also the same ones, whose wigs are on too loosely and wrist bent for the Gods that suffers from this syndrome! People of color in the LGBTQ+ community split their lips up and down agreeing with this discrimination, yet get mad when someone’s Grindr says Whites and Latino’s only or another Adam profile says masculine only. You want the world to see you past your sexuality while not hiring your friend Latisha. You bagger when society says, “pick a gender,” “pick a sex to love and stick with it,” while oppressing the next person in the same breath. Talk about the oppressed being the oppressor. It’s real! All in all, blacks agreeing with this discrimination sounds like they would prevent someone from making a living became of a name, let that sink in.

As for Raven-Symonè, the black community today that is angry were the ones who watch you grow, who grew with you, who has happy you maintained a clean image into adulthood! Black Twitter drenched you with an abundance of love during the Disney nostalgia moments and for you to say you would prevent a fan from making a living because of her name, or say you choose to proudly not sit with us…damn, girl! Do you realize your hairstyles aren’t eligible for hiring either…? Well, The Black Community agrees to gladly let you go. The white community don’t want you either, nor does the Hispanics, so you can sit at the back of the lunchroom with your BomQuisha hair dues as you preferred.

…And now I am going to fierce and use a picture of her looking a fool.

Dear Someone

Dear Someone,

I’m not sure why, but I am compelled to write a letter to you who ever you are. In this moment, I wish to lay in upon

Melanin

the bosom of grace while the arms of love wraps its motherly hands around my head. I want to unconditionally express my blackness in the way I have never mentioned before. May I, stranger?

I am well aware of the strikes against me. I am aware of my history and its struggles with white supremacy, I am also aware of my Kings and Queen lineage prior. I am well aware my people aren’t and never was perfect in the ideals of fictitious human standards. I do believe if racism were to dwindle into timeless space, there will probably be crime among our people. As our self infliction is not entirely off the backs of whites pride and systematic oppression however it stems from our lack of connection to all that is and nature that surrounds us. That is a human problem, not just blacks.

Events after events, turmoil after turmoil, my people are just being relentlessly slaughtered. I tried feeling as if I am not a twenty three year young black man in 1960′s. I try to convince myself logically that we have came far. That I can cross country with no fear, go hiking in no fear, be educated without fear. While I try to obscure reality with positivism once, twice, maybe weekly, I am constantly cut by some news about the injustice my people suffer.

At first, I tried to cope by creating some distance between me and my people. I believed because I am not fully embedded in my Hip-hop culture I have a safe pass. That because I can act in the likeness of white appropriation easily I am safe from brutality. I don’t listen to rap music solely, I don’t sag my pants, not in a gang. I can speak proper and conduct myself respectfully. I listen to all types of music, can hold conversation about anything, New York City is not as racially oppressive. I thought these aspects would coat me like gravy. I felt this way after every brutality aired on the news  to block the fact that I am the “Villain,” the “thug,” that I am next…

……………..

It wasn’t until Sandra Bland. It wasn’t until I sat and watch a black women be killed before my eyes. It wasn’t until I understood how deep this issue goes. How inhumane these people are. Are they even humans? The editing of the dash cam, the mysterious death, the lies behind the mugshot. My people, My Sandra Bland did not come from a linage that raped the lands of the earth, that ethnic cleansed cultures, drop atomic bombs, serial kill innocent lives trying to reclaim their glory that was savagely taken from them 300 years ago. We did not destroy others history and brainwash them into ours. We did not ruthlessly kill for the fun of it promoting Christianity.  However, Sandra and the rest of my fallen people were treated as if we were the hands behind this.

To the someone that is reading this, I ask you why? Why are they doing this to my people, why are they doing this to me.  We historically did nothing, if in fact we gave white people everything. We gave them math, science, art, architecture, fashion , music. We gave them a foundation, civilization. I question as to why are whites so insecure within themselves that is so deeply ingrained within them they feel the need to pounce about the world and history books trying to fill a void.

Do they feel like they are weak? Were they jealous of other cultures advancements? Did they feel less then when they came our lands and saw Pyramids that exceeded their consciousness?
Do they feel as if there were not blessed enough, for they lived in caves while the rest of the world lived in riches, so they stole our religion and use it as a weapon against us?

They did once recognize how our melanin and curly hair gifted us in the ability to adapt in any weather condition and they cannot?
There has to be an internal reason they hate my color? There’s has to be reason they have to feel the need to pride around as if they are supreme unless they feel none of that already within.
Why are they passing this hate to their children that knew not of hate entering this world?

Understanding Sandra Bland made me realize were I came from. Understanding Sandra Bland made me know resilience.
Understanding Sandra Bland made me know they will lie their way into a justice system that is designed for them.
Understanding Sandra Bland made me understand my skin. She made me love my skin. Feel proud of my skin. My history. My riches.
Understanding her also made me understand I am next.

Sincerely, My People.

Namaste.

How to Manifest Your Desires With The New Moon.

New beginnings are possible. Usually, In the midst of your own chaotic life the last thing you want to hear is to start right now, or trick yourself into the mindset that a new day means a new beginning. Especially, when your day is moved by the stress from the night before, or the pressure of what lies ahead in the future. Sometimes, we need to mentally prepare ourselves for a new beginning rather then switch gear in a snap of a finger. Thankfully, there are the moon cycles to help seed, cultivate, and manifest our desires. Yay!

Joining the flow of nature, working with the natural order of things makes life easier for us and grants us with greater return. Farmers knew this, for they harvest seeds during the new moon finding out crops tend to be more richer and more lively then. “Gardening by The Moon” it’s called. It’s an age old folklore. The same process applies to us when we want to manifest our truest intentions bringing up more of our wants into fruition; Write down your desire (plant), Feel your desire as if you have it now (water), and let universe bring it to you (watch it grow). Like the Chia commercials, ch-ch-chia!. 

To use the moon cycle for guidance and for you benefit here’s what you do:

1. Find the next new moon.

2. Light candles, play music, put yourself in a good mood and setting.

3. Burn incense or sage to clear the rooms energy.

4.With a pen and paper right down your desires in present tense, “I now invite into my life experience…” “I now have..” “I am…” Do not limit yourself. Don’t feel ashamed for how big or how small of your wants. The size doesn’t matter to the universe only your alignment with your goals with proper thoughts and feelings matter.

5. Visualize your goals dreams and desire. Take a moment to meditate on these goals. You should be smiling and feeling good with imagining your goals. Have as much fun as you have. Remember the happier the faster.

6. Make a vision board, to further deepen your visualizations.

7. Burn the list, hide the list, detach yourself from the list. Constant dwelling on when your goals going to come further pushes them away delaying the fruition. Trust that the universe will provide for you.

8. Thank the universe for manifesting your desires and feel the gratitude, then be!

Within In Myself.

It’s really hard loving yourself wholeheartedly. As much as I want to, I wish it was so easier said then done. It’s not that easy to know wholesomely who I am when I am consistently changing. It’s rather difficult to identify yourself without the ego. Unless, there is no identity through the fall of the ego, which is the voice that keeps us attached to ideals, image, habits, people. As I read all the time, the fall of the ego brings the feeling of oneness. What I question is the process in which it happens, what do you feel in this transition?

The difficulty is trying to understand what is the ego in you to know what changes to make within. I  have some sense, some minuscule understanding of it. However, I am not sure when exactly my ego comes into play. I know when it’s off usually in times of advice giving, I can sound like the most level headed, open minded, Ghandi-loving therapist ever. But with me, I am a lot less straightforward. I barely listen to my own advice.

Maybe I need to relax. That’s why I am writing this now. Venting.

At times I feel like I love me, then at times I feel like I don’t. Okay, saying I don’t sounds so much more downgrading then in actuality. When I say I don’t, I mean I feel as if I don’t love myself in its fullest potential. We all fall short right? and that’s okay?

Where we are now, we are so obsessed with self identifying. Maybe from a mutual understanding that we all lack a true understanding of our self. You have to have some identity going on. One much define themselves through something. One must have an obsession with something, a favorite something. Becoming nothing more than walking brand, walking egos.

And the minute you want to dis-identify you feel the forces that makes you identify with something or someone.

I don’t know where I was going with this. I just feel conflicted.

I want to be me to the my fullest potential. I feel that I am not, because there are more “important” factors that needs to be worried about, making good income, getting a degree, anything and everything outside of me.

Damn you early 20s.