A Love Supreme: Resolutions

Morning Blogspot and snarky mofo's reading this. Yesterday turned out to be a very positive day in spite of some mild emotional bumps I took. Before I begin I gotta give a shout out to my elders, Ishamariablanca and my younger brother who let me lounge on the Xbox360 while I waited on a phone interview. That truly was a therapeutic three hours of my life ya dig?

So this morning's topic is resolutions.

Late yesterday I talked on the phone with my elder Uncle C.M. who is our relationship guru in Black Studies. I mean this man is utterly brilliant. I've adopted a lot of policies from him like the ability to compromise (there was a time I didn't compromise in a relationship at.all.), best leadership (which seeks to dismantle gender roles which may not be in the best interest of the relationship)* and not going to sleep angry. I had already forwarded him the file on me and [classified] so when I sat down with him he had a LOT of things to say. I really was thankful for this because I truly believe our generation really don't know much, we're arrogant and not built for protracted struggle, that's part of the reason we cant save our communities. The elders are, but sadly their getting older and cant function on the front lines...damn I digressed. My apologies. Basically, what I'm saying is in certain matters and the heart is one of them, I try to actively seek the wisdom of people who've been married and happy for a number of years. My single, bitter, homies can't offer much insight. I mean really. I know you dudes. BFL niggaz.

Uncle C.M's insight was bittersweet. He affirmed my belief that this could work. He is usually right on the money. He affirmed that there is "no easy button." Yet he affirmed that my notion of struggle, is rooted in an arrogance I carry, being the "Soul Survivor" and "Comeback Kid". In fact his exact words to me were "You are very arrogant. You've won a few battles, you've done some things that most people didn't expect you to, but you're not the smartest muthafucka in the room."

Damn.

But I can see that. I've done that often in my dating scenarios and I damn sure did it in my relationship too. I do believe surviving the longest night and the build up to the longest night gives me insight and discernment. I do think most folks would have folded. But really how do I know that? More importantly, while it might have been traumatic, it most certainly IS NOT the only situation one has to overcome.

Good point. Guilty as charged.

What he said the basic problem was is that neither of us was willing to make the sacrifice required in a relationship: Individuality. While laughing, he mentioned he never seen to people who profess to love each other so much use the words I, Me, My. He pointed out that for my hyperbole, I was not willing to give up my rigid defense system needed in a new dynamic, while some shit said and done was definitely difficult I should have washed over it. But my arrogance and unwillingness to surrender that part my individuality was not productive.

Our conversation was three hours, but here's what i got from the notes, and yes I took notes because he truly is a scholar and when a scholar speaks you take notes. Here's the main points:

• You can't have a dynamic with both parties have one foot out the door. In terms of me, that one foot out the door was waiting on "the problem" to arise, and when something connected to what I saw as a problem arouse, I freaked out.
  
• While compromise is important, what's equally important is knowing what to compromise. In essence, my policy reversals were not in line with my personality she grown to know and it really makes me look unstable. Its admirable to seek the middle ground but I need to be mindful always when and where to apply this.
• I need to stay off the net, blogging aside. In fact I'm going to take a break from that. He reminded me things get lost in translation and there is a such thing as a couple who is too connected to the net. He told me point blank there is a serious problem if you update Facebook or blog first thing in the AM and not call your mate.
  
• Get over it. He said that to me several times about a number of situations. I've heard that before from a female elder in terms of us. He told me in essence I need to get over "petty" insults, and reminded me I was trained in the house of OH, and most of the stuff I've bitched about isn't even petty insulted but miscues. Miscues happen in new dynamics.
• Neither one of us had to acknowledge or rather deal with the other's past for any reason, or the issues that may arise. Our focus was/should have been the present. That (or past) was our past and our cross to bear. So no she didn't have to understand my crazy anonymous blog stalkers any more than I had to acknowledge her past. I had to understand it but acknowledge didn't need to be in our repertoire.
• In terms of co parenting, I need to mind my business. As long no abuse place was taking or they were creeping behind my back that need not be my active concern.
• This is long.
• Not talking about the problem won't make it go away, and one of us needs to stop the b.s. and call or email. We wrote and put a lot of beautiful things in the universe in front of the creator; we need to resolve that in nothing more than to save the friendship and to ensure our boys stay connected. *folds arms. I ain't calling*
• Get over ourselves. I've heard this at least 60 times but the way he said it was like really painful. He laid a critique out to honest and brutal I ain't gonna post it, but basically said it ain't that serious for either of us, and there are couples with real problems going through real shit and all this new age theatrics aside it ain't that serious. None of it.
  

"Terrance, you both need to get over yourself, ok, ok. Seriously there are real problems couples go through and what I'm saying is this isn't one of them. Get over yourself".

That line stays with me. Ishamariablanca said it, my mother aunt said it, BFL said it. I mean a few comments which I didn't post said it. Get over yourself. Ourselves.

As crazy as this shit has been, and its been a while ride, when I look at it from the lens of other people, my loved ones who are gonna tell me truth like The Emperor or the Uncle I can see that.
These men have gone through some real shit, and honestly our complexities ain't shit to them. I felt bad wasting 3 hrs of his life when it was really simple. We need to sit down, hold hands, talk it over and say as middle sun advocated I'm sorry. Before anything else we had a beautiful friendship, more important we are two stubborn coons who love each other. That warrants a sit down, like adults, with a couple of bottles and get it ALL OUT. As Uncle said we'll either come out of this meeting stronger and back on track, or at the very least saved the friendship.
Stubbornness is really not a productive trait, neither is my self righteous snarky posturing at this moment.

I guess that is why I entitled this resolution. I do think once the anger and emotion, my wonderfully rolling emotions subside then we'll truly be alright. Today, as much as human possible and logical, I am over it...in terms of being mad. I'm sad that I've lost two weeks on this nonsense, I'm sad my suns missed their friend, but anger and disappointment is finished.

I am sorry and I do apologize.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
4-16-2009
10:20am


*Author's note: This was supposed to be a two part piece about a conversation I had with two people yesterday about how I did them, but suddenly I got lazy and I decided I'll comeback later. Its nice outside and posting to you people is making me miss my day.

:D

TLT*

Sins of the Father: A Historical Review

"There will be NO further negotiations on this matter.
Deal with it or dont" ~
Me to my Aunt Louise after they tried to punk my mother.

First a historical review: Before I post the on the topic dealing with my family I feel a need to give you a back story. I know my long time readers and personal friends might be familar but you new folks are gonna love this story. Here we go.

As you all may know (or should know) by now on Dec 16th 2006, I lost my father to cancer. It was an emotional time that I had documented via a series of blogs posted on Myspace at the time called "Sins of the Father". This series chronicled everything from my frustration at my mother for her decisions to the night they took him out the house one final time to his to the plots of my aunts and other family members, to this funeral and the aftermath. In my opinion this was my best written work but sadly, a crashed computer and a deletion of Myspace page made it unable to retrieve any of that work. I found a few files on Gmail and I have them stored on a lil pen drive that wont read, but other than that the only Sins of the Father that remains is part 5, the account of his funeral (which can be found under the Dec 2006 section of my blog or by clicking on the link).

Just prior to his death, my father converted to become a Jehovah's Witness, a decision that did not sit well with his sisters, whom happen to be...yup you guessed it baptists. They did/do not like my mother as they felt she was uppity, and didn't engage in the mass niggerdoms that seem to uh dominate my father's side of the family. I do believe only his children are the only ones college educated, free of felonies and can read and or write. So needless to say my mother's Hyde Park reared arse did not mesh well with the slack jawed yokels of the Bailey clan.

Damn, my biases are showing and I am not objectively reporting the account.

Sorry. Let us move on...

When he was diagnosed as terminal my father wrote each of his siblings a letter telling them that he wished his funeral and burial be in accordance with the way a Jehovah's Witness would be held, my mothers word was law and he tasked me to enforce this by any means necessary short of murder.

I wont bore you with the intricate plots but basically my aunts with "assistance" from two of my brothers actively worked to undermine my mother's every decision including trying to buy an extra night and service from Gatlin's. Yes these "women" raised about 3G's to hold a special service as opposed to say um...giving it to my mother. Basically the end result was me using every political trick in the book to make sure my mother under grief didn't violate my father's wishes and I almost turned Wei Yan lose on a few of them.

Indeed good times by all eh?

Defeated, two thirds of my father's people "missed the funeral", as Monday was Christmas, his funeral was a Friday and they chose holiday pay over paying respects. Those that didn't go to work refused to come to a "Jehovah funeral" hell my aunt went back to Atlanta rather than come into a Kingdom Hall.

Did I mention that those who did come and show up sat with his first wife and comforted her. My mother sat in the corner alone with only a few friends from the hall making helping her, that and her granbabies.

Even typing this account makes my chest hurt.

Only 2 aunts out of 5 showed my mother any kind of respect.

Had it not been for the lovely women of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Inc. we would have had a shitty repass. This is why I haven't left the table of Blue, my sorors..during this time. I can never repay that. Ever. One day I'll tell you how the Sigmas reacted.

You know I got a ugly bitterness in my mouth over this era.

OK moving on.

So this week, which still holds the record as worst.week.ever. had a number of implications:

• It caused a rift between my brothers that really still hasn't healed. Honestly it wont fully heal until they offer my mother an apology for treason
• It caused me to be utterly weary and distrustful of baptists. Think racial profiling but instead of race think denomination.
• Zetas have a lifetime commitment from me.
• I refused to talk to everybody on my father's side for any reason.
  

This last point is important because I've missed funerals, birthday parties, weddings, births, damn near everything. My suns weren't allowed to communicate. I mean I saw folks on myspace and facebook and just wouldn't fox with them at all.

I know snarky mofo reading this you're asking "Was it that serious?"

Yes it was.

I was given a task by my father. No compromise. My mother was disrespected. My parents faith was disrespected. I mean, I won't name who but one of the conspirators whispered in his ear something to the effect if he didn't renounce Jah he would burn in hell. My father being the ADD filled creature he was later in the day blurted out "Please no I don't wanna go to hell".

Since when does a JW...never mind. Heart pumping faster. But this should give you a lil more insight as to why I am the way I am. Moments like this.

Oh my favorite. My mom was trying to fix my dad's oxygen, wipe his face or something and clearly it was bothering him so he managed to put his hand up. My ignant aunt replies "He do it again smack his hand." Or was it spank his hand? I forget.

The point is since when do you slap a dying man's hand? Or spank a grown man? Ignant ba...

Give me a moment. Lemme think a happy thought.

.
..
....
....
........

Ok, there. As I was saying it was made niggerdoms and I wrote it all down. Sigh. But something happened over the weekend that I will post in another piece that softened my heart, even if it didn't totally reverse my position.


Lemme make some breakfast and I'll post the second half. I'm break this up into two pieces as this one has gone on way too long and there is just too much emotion in this piece.

Brb
Straight, No Chaser
TLT
4-13-2009
9:30AM

Blessed are those who Struggle: Rethinking Black Love

"Blessed are those who Struggle” ~ The Last Poets

First a simple definition is in order: Post Modernism. Without getting all academic, Post Modernism can simply be defined as everything is relevant and has a place; and thus rejects the traditional values of hierarchy and importance. Most scholars consider, especially among the youth, this to be a post modern era.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading and studying on the concept of Black love these past few months, the academic side of me is trying to understand why the intuition that should be chief among us is often given the LEAST work, or baring that, so easily given up on. Recently, I’ve purchased “In this life together” by the ultimate Black Couple: The late Ossie Davis and his widow Ruby Dee. Let me assure you that only I’m only two chapters in and already I’ve learned so much about what makes a Black relationship. In conjunction with the book, I finally got a chance to finish reading this month’s Ebony Magazine with the beautiful picture of President and Mrs. Obama in an intimate pose adoring its cover. This issue, their annual Black couple issue, explores prominent Black couples and takes it one step further by exploring the impact the Obamas’ have and will have on Black relationships during this time and the post Obama era.. Normally my cynical nature wouldn’t have finished a magazine like that but since being challenged by OOM to rethink my whole “love is war formula”, I gave it a spin.

I don’t think a magazine has ever made me cry so hard as those articles. I was amazed, I was floored, and I was impressed. Most important it made me think. I realized where my formula failed.

It lacked a human component. I treated it like I was exploring “forms of governments” and didn’t explore all the way. In short it was devoid of emotion. I am not backing away from my theory that war, politics and love aren’t different. I am backing away from the notion that a purely political outlook is essential to survival.

See, in this day and age our politics aren’t flawed because for the sake of being flawed. Our politics were/ is flawed because we became apathetic or fearful. We’ve become fearful and apathetic because we think everything matters and thus there should be easy. These feelings were/are brought on by adaptations of a “Post Modern” outlook.

See, because we’ve abandoned a lot of the traditions that made us who we are, we have become in effect lazy. We love the wrong things. I’ll expound more on that in a bit, but basically we’ve forgotten how to struggle in an effort to be chic, cool, or hip. Like our politics/life we no longer want to struggle. If love is a meal then we certainly don’t want to make it from scratch, pouring in ingredients of faith, hope, love and work. Instead we want a “just add and stir” kind of life, ala a cheap cake mix and then get upset and the shitty results.

The one thing I discerned from that issue and the book is you have to fight for what you want, fight to make the relationship what it is. Now of course there are obvious expectations: an abusive mate, a crack head mate, a mate who abuses children. Those are exceptions, not the rule. I am talking about the will and desire to make it work, blend career and home, good times and bad, sickness and health. All of that requires two strong individuals, who are willing to work for a common goal. The one thing I didn’t get from my readings was a concept of ease. There was drama, there was sadness but ultimately what mattered was the team and they made it do what it do.

So how does this tie in to “Post Modernism?” It ties in because Post Modernism or as I like to call it the “Rebirth of the rebirth of Cool" has destroyed traditional hierarchies of what really matters and ultimately how do you get there.

I’ve seen people bleed, cry, and sweat for their Sorority, but not for the man they love. I’ve seen them throw in the towel on somebody they profess to care about, but will fight for the love of their org. I’ve seen men not go home to their wives, who they claim they would “die for” so they can go to the strip club with their frat brothers. I’ve seen people put money into their churches but ignore homes. I’ve seen people let those they love walk out of their life in order to appear cool, as opposed to just letting emotions and honesty guide them. I’ve seen fathers love their jobs and their abstract notions more than their kids. Shit I’ve seen it all. In short, I’ve seen Black love given up for things that will not keep you warm at night, grow old with you, raise kids with you, or even be there in ten years. I think about that last point every time I’m with my youngest son, and I wish I could get those first two years back. There isn’t even a conference any more ya know?

See, while not perfect, the elders and older Black people understood what was important. They understood hierarchy and that some shit when put up against those we love isn’t important. Old school frat boys knew when to go home, old school sorority gals knew when to say no their the sisters so they could be with the one the love. They understood you had to feed your kids before the church, they understood, as David Ruffin so smoothly let us know, that it’s OK to beg.

But we’ve forgotten that. Post Modernism has made us forget what’s important, who’s important and why. Post Modernism has made “in love” the truth, and “true love” the fallacy, and like our politics given us a faulty idea that there is an easy button. And when we press that easy button and there is no fairy tale we become jaded, and want to quit. We want to yield and then come up with a thousands reasons why.

There is no easy button. Ossie and Ruby knew that, President and Mrs. Obama knows that, Will and Jada know that, hell even fictional Back couples like Florida and James and the Black Panther and Storm know that. Love is work. It can be chaos. But you are aware dear reader that this beautiful universe and life itself comes from Chaos?

I guess I’m a little thinking about this stuff because I’m a little hurt and disappointed. I’ve been recently told by two people close to me that: “My concept of love was stuck in the 60’s” and “My persistence bothers them sometimes”.

To the first critique I say “Probably, but couples were happier then, divorce wasn’t a reality and we had a Black Family. I’d rather be stuck in the sixties than live this bullshit today." Heh, The President and First Lady got a sixties relationship ya dig. To the second critique I say “If I can be persistent about things that can’t truly love me back then why not be persistent about something that can?" I’ve spent my whole life chasing an abstract: Black Freedom. I think I can put energy into something not abstract.

I make no apologies about that. I just pray my community quickly 86’s post modernism. Perhaps the Obamas’ will show us the path.

The Last Poets once said “Blessed are those who struggle”. There is power in that statement. There is power because it is truth. I was once told nothing easy is worth having.

That applies to my health, my career and my politics.

It definitely applies to my love life.

Fuck post modernism.

I like my life, in all facets,
Straight, No Chaser.
TLT
1-19-2009
12:01am