Why the hell am I here?
I am an ocean girl living in a desert valley surrounded by mountains under a beautiful sky. My valley-bound ears are always blocked, that is until I reach at least 4,000 feet. I take sky pictures and collect rocks and crystals. The best thing about Arizona is the sky and free fruit left hanging over people’s fences to drop off and die.
At times I’ve cried just looking at it. I’ve chased cloud formations in my car, pulled over on the side of roads to take a picture of it, and plucked the sweetest tasting oranges from abandoned fruit trees.
Hot! Hot! Hot!
It is that but, on the other hand, this place, Arizona, is one of the coldest, loneliest places I’ve ever lived. Even the most deserted dried up the desert in Egypt and Sudan have more vibrant and soulful human interactions and energy than this joint.
Bold and Dangerous Risks
Drive-by and wave relationships are the norms. It’s easier to make friends with cactus, but the absence of community here reignited my desire to write. I’ve soared and hobbled through rough and scary places, with a life full of zigs and zags, stupid choices, and time spent in horrifying darkness, overwhelming hurt, kindness, adventure, fear, heartache, love, and madness. I, too, have a story to tell.
I love hearing people’s stories.
To me, every person and everyone’s experience is of value. I’m curious to know who’s really behind that smile, external presentation, and mostly their words.
I strive to find common ground. I am open-minded and believe everyone has the right to be. I’m not always patient, but I’m willing to look at the entire picture.
I wish I didn’t know what I know.
I despise blatant ignorance and intolerance. I cry uncontrollably or laugh until I can’t catch my breath. I’ve been close to the edge bunches of times, but, somehow there was always something or someone to pull me back. I have been described as a tough Black woman. Did I have a choice? Those who are willing to look deep enough see the true essence of me—creative, kind-hearted, loving, and adventurous.
It’s okay to cry.
“Maybe what will really work is we all need to have a fear tree in our backyard or a small fear plant growing on our apartment windowsill.”
When we are feeling uneasy we pluck a few leaves and find the right place to put them.
Champagne would be the number one choice but spaghetti works, too.
Have a little fear at least once a week and you will build up your resistance.
Like a vaccination. Then, when wars and hatreds come along you’ll be able to recognize
that’s just another expression of Fear.
No thanks, I’ve had my quota.” ― Chasing Utopia: A Hybrid
Like a cat, I managed to land on my feet.
Reluctantly, I admit that I get tired of getting worked up about the same issues , but then I remember my grandchildren; I hope to inspire them to find their voices and scorch anyone who tries to stifle their dreams desires.
Meanwhile, I have a brain that works differently due to my head injury. I’ve also got bad knees, a worn-out hip from my years as a Belly Dancer for 20 years. So, I live with a dented forehead, a damaged heart, and a small scar behind my ear. But, Boy-oh-boy, the stories I can tell.