step. wait. dance.

July 3, 2013

“La costumbre pesa mas que el Amor.”

Abuela passed away twenty-years ago. But she is such a powerful presence in my life that there are days I swear she is still here. I talk to her like a prayer. And she talks back to me like an old friend. Over the last few days two of her frequently used quotes have come up in conversations. I’ve shared them with others in an effort to summarize two very real and raw truths: First, comfort weighs more than Love. Second, no one dies on the eve.

We can get so comfortable with something/someone that we will stay in that place (regardless of how detrimental it is to our health, or how it keeps us from walking towards our Truth) because simply put, we’re comfortable. We stay put because we know it. We can navigate it because we’ve been swimming in it for so long that we have come to accept it as our truth. We are so accustomed to something/someone that we will not move from that place because, well, “I’m used to it.”

I’ve been there. Sitting in it. Forcing it, in an effort to make it what it could never be because the minute we stop doing what we Love or walking in the direction of the things we Love, we begin to resent ourselves, others and everything around us. We become stagnant. We are angry and we question the questions, and the noise in our heads doesn’t stop because we know that the only question that needs to be answered is, “What is it that I am so afraid of that I rather stand in the discomfort of my comfort zone than to step out and walk towards Love?”

If we walked away from comfort and into Love we would realize that we are brilliant! We would see our life turn in the direction we have been wanting it to turn towards but were too afraid because comfort carries weight. A weight that increases each day we choose to remain in the place that we know simply because we know it.

The moment we decide to step out of that comfort zone, the Universe calls forth a shift in our lives that resembles what I felt is a rebirth. Except this time, it wasn’t my mother pushing me out into the world… this time, I came to my own on my own. I put one foot in front of the other and stepped forward. I took a deep breath of the new air that surrounded me and cried. I cried the weight of my comfort out of me.

And after all the crying was done, I looked around and asked, “Y ahora que?”

“Nadie muere en la vispera.”

So now what? You stepped out and forward. It feels great. But what next?

It’s just one foot in front of the other. Except now, there is purpose and intent. Now you are walking in the direction of your Truth… your dreams and your goals. Now you walk with confidence. Even in the uncertainty or in the moments where you have to wait, here is the other Truth, “Nadie muere en la vispera.” Things will happen when they happen, not a second before or after.

Waiting is not standing still in one place. It doesn’t mean you stop walking, it means you walk toward your Truth gathering experiences to strengthen you for the next shift. The eve is the place where we ask, “Am I ready? and do I have what I need?” The eve is the place where nos vestimos de armadura.

Along comes the shift. The shift allows you to take the lessons of the eve into the break of dawn.

The hardest part of all of this, you have already done. Stepping out of what you know is an absolute beautifully frightening decision to make. That step, was what brought you to the shift and from the moment you committed to stepping out of your comfort zone the Universe began to shift everything in your direction.

You called forth the change.

You deserve to walk towards your Truth.

Your resolve and commitment to your Self is so powerful that any shift can only bring you peace.

The instructions are easy: step. wait. dance.

Advertisements

untitled

April 6, 2012

black child…
you never got the chance
to taste the rainbow.

17.years.old

[pause]

think for minute and remember
when you were 17.
you were so full of life… and dreams.
what did you want to be when you grew up?
what did you like? what were your hopes?

black child
you will never know.

because bazooka joe thought your melanin
was the 8th deadly sin
and felt the the need to stand his ground
pull a trigger
and just like that.

…you never got the chance
to taste the rainbow.

this race war
has taken more lives
than all the wars combined.

this race war
has got’ us running away from each other.

fear is a four-letter word with a five-letter sentence:

death.

17.years.old
17.years.old

you never got the chance
to taste the rainbow.

you never got the chance
to live life.
to try and make better days.
to watch your parents grow old.
to witness so many beautiful parts of life.

he took your now & later.
left a sour patch on our tongues.

and the iced-t
tastes like bitter hate.

i had a meeting with a life coach last week. it was nothing like what i was expecting. but i will write about that at some other point. i want to share part of the homework i was given -or as she called it “soul work.”

the assignment was to write every day for ten minutes from the flow consciousness of little Sarahí (five-years-old to be exact). i couldn’t edit. i couldn’t go back and move anything. it was just ten minutes of non-stop writing as if little Sarahí had been given a crayon and told to go at the walls with confidence.

i’ve always been a good student. so i did my assignments. though i don’t have to submit it. this was just for me. this was tough. a lot harder than i thought. i mean, i am a writer. it’s what i do when i am not working for that job that pays the rent. so i thought this would be “simple.”

so i wrote. and i cried. and i wrote some more. and i cried. i was angry. i laughed. a lot. recalling and reliving moments that reminded me that i had a horrific and beautiful fifth year. and i laughed. and cried.

if we can look at a part of our life for ten minutes and put ourselves in that exact moment, you can savor bitter sweet events. you can smell the air of the times. hear the sounds like classics. you can see smiles. faces. clothes colors. but the only thing you can’t do is touch.

i couldn’t touch little Sarahí. that was the most difficult part of this assignment. i couldn’t hold her. i wanted to hug her. to tell her that everything would be so much different at thirty-three. that the moment was just a moment. but i couldn’t. and the truth is the moment isn’t just a moment. because little Sarahí remains a five-year-old in that time and space for an eternity.

so instead i did what i always do to heal… i wrote to her:

Dear Little Sarahí,

I am sorry that the first thing you think about in this five-year-old moment is that day. I am sorry you carry it in your backpack like it was essential for your walk. None of it was your fault. Not a single part. Let it go little Love. Set your Self free.

I wish you could see your brightness.

Your spirit shines much brighter than the darkness of that day. I wish you knew that when you walk into a room, darkness dissipates. What a beautiful brilliant child you are! Abuela always told you that your light would win the world over; she’s right. It’s your “golden ticket.”

Remember sunny days. Randall’s Island. Night pool. Handball. Softball. Best cousins ever. Church. Sleepovahs’. Central Park. Third Ave. Summers with Manny and David. Dinners with abuela. Christmas. Great Adventure. Action Park. Pigtails. Bofi. Castle Greyskull… surely these days weigh so much more than that day.

You have an amazing ability to recall so much and you will use it when you get older to heal and tell your story. But keep smiling and shining. You are so much light to the infinite power.

Love,
Big Sarahí

it is difficult to forgive a time and space you didn’t have control of. it is even more difficult when you feel at fault for that something. but to begin the healing process we must first give the event light, forgive the Self for being hard on the Self, and then let it go. often times we hold on to something so hard, we think it’s holding on to us. we think it’s holding us hostage. when the reality is, we’ve been holding it hostage.

there’s a freedom in freeing your Self from yourself.

…and so begins my process.

the last love poem

February 8, 2012

“Your task is not to seek for love,
but merely to seek and find all the barriers
within yourself that you have
built against it.”
~Rumi.

the last love poem
will not be written
in my lifetime.

as long as i am a poet,
butterflies will flutter
in bellies distended
with excitement.

palms will sweat.
heart rates will rise.

Love notes
will be stitched in cursive
into pocket seams.

spontaneous Love songs
will play and dancing will happen
in parking lots, busy streets,
quiet corners…

rain will pour
and Love will be soaked.

fear threatens Love.
has people running away from it
like a natural disaster.

exhaustion…

Love continues breathing.
being.

and while you fall down
…Love falls up.

 

Writer’s Note: “Fluttering butterflies was an inspiration from a conversation with Idalia Poetry.”

god wears a size S

February 7, 2012

it is no mystery why the world can’t find god.

you have made god so small,
theologians have been searching in the fine prints
of scriptures only to loose themselves in translations.

your rhethoric and rules
have diminished god
to simple verses misquoted
from altars and pulpits alike.

religions read hatred from their Book
and claim righteousness.
they have been
everything but right.

throw up scripture
on billboards…
give tracts to distract.

god never wanted to be read.
god wants to be lived.

but you have made god so small
in Love and so big in hatred,
your microscopic view
increases macroeconomic blessings.
while churches get rich
on people’s fears,
faith is bankrupt.

god never wanted to be a business.
god wants to be lived.

you have made god so small
and insignificant,
you have people believing
that hell is place in the after-life
not on the tip of your blasphemous tongue.

bitter

August 22, 2009

Las Salinas, Bani Dominican RepublicPhoto: www.lagacetafea.blogger.combracero2

these tracks are old
they lead nowhere.
this is the land of salt mines
and sand dunes.

heat burning skin.
salt stinging wounds.
over one million
Haitians
migrate
to this
third world.

third world country
with first world mentality
put these men to labor
extracting salt
from pool bottoms.

salt in wagons
pulled and pushed
on tired tracks
eroding
corroding

Bani
Las Salinas
Dominican Republic
known as the land
of poets and liberators.

this is one sad poem
and liberation,
is only reserved
for non-Haitians
“para todo aquel
que no sea negro.”

travel 400 kilometers east
along the southern coast

on different tracks
railroad tracks
pulling thousands
of sugar cane sticks

loaded by braceros
sugar cane cutters
back breaking
soul aching.

nine to twelve hours,
machetes swinging.
young sons alongside
exhausted
with no time to play,
must say
“there is nothing
sweet
about this sugar cane
stick dad.”

La Romana
Dominican Republic
the name
comes from a balance
used to weigh
merchandise for export.

but there is no balance
in inequality.

and what this third world exports is

not salty
not sweet
just bitter.

~sarahi yajaira, 2009