I hold my womb and listen for the songs my pussy got on its heart.

Loving on me is prayer. I learn to be the best lover to myself. Hold my gaze, listen to my heart and desire.

Two months ago I had fibroids removed from my sweet uterus. I have several dear beloveds of mine who have gone through this experience before me. They all lovingly gave me Wisdom as to how to take care of myself. I knew it would be deep but of course as it is in life you don’t understand all the dimensions of a thing until you experience it. “Everything, Everywhere all at once” on my ass. brought to my knees all existential and shit.

Aries season and a personal spring. My healing process felt like dying and being reborn, going into night in prayer and needles in your body and coming out with scars and a blinding sense of personal clarity. I literally felt like a baby, having to receive care from all of my beloveds and struggle to do simple things. I had to stop everything and be slow and be with my existence. I was being waterfalled in love and learning how to center in my worthiness of it. I was given deliciousness and softness for my healing.

My fibroids felt ancestral, familial. So many women in my family have them so many Black people who bleed suffer from them. Hemorrhaging from your uterus is its own private trauma and feels like the embodiment of living in America as a Black woman. I hold my womb and listen for the songs my pussy got on its heart. I hold my womb and also hold the womb of all my ancestors who somehow held the sacredness of they own pussy and wildness and pleasure in a country that wanted to make them into dust.

When I was in St. Croix a couple months ago I laid on a former sugar plantation. And smoked a joint for my ancestors and I just held my own womb and listened for anything they had to say. They told me so much and I just held myself in the sun among the ruins and lushness and cried.

All of us are embodied conversation with our ancestors. Everyday I rewilding myself and surrendering to sweetness and sweet mess…

Sweetness is here, kissing at all things in me broken or confused. I situate/saturate in the limitless love and spirit surrounding me, just all over me. Dripping . . .

Saturated in Black futures and histories!

Just got back from Cameroon last week and feel saturated in Black futures and histories. This was my third time in Cameroon and the continent and my mom’s first, and the layers of ancestral singing and listening were vibrant in us all. I love Ngowo’s homeland and I swear her dimple deepens when she smiles on this soil.

We took my mama and nibling Axelle to the Bimbia African Concentration camp for ancestors of the middle passage. We learned (and felt) the deception and violence and shadow that surrounded our ancestors. The brutality and confusion. My mom kept saying “this was real!” Which we knew but feeling and seeing will rock your world. Seeing the boats that left this coast and arrived in Trinidad was chilling and real.

Ngowo said she never even knew about it growing up in Cameroon. When I spoke to Ngowo’s mama, she spoke of the stories her grandma told her of her own people running away to the hills and of other nations being forced or enticed into facilitating this industry of stolen and enslaved people.

As a child of the diaspora I re-root myself to this continent with sweetness and wildness and love and healing. When I’m there I always smile at how despite the attempts to deracinate us from our legacy I feel at home in this land, my ancestors are here still.

When I’m on the continent of Africa Black Futures sing in my bones. That ancestral blood memory tingles in me. I feel beautiful and thick and lush and of the earth and connected.

Also peep the chocolate sand beach…

A sacred, sensual, radical and a limitless quest of my heart

AKA SLOW AND LUXURIOUS DYKE ISLAND.

I’ve been called to connect with the ancestors on my fathers side in St. Croix. It’s complicated y’all, since my father is a complex dude in my life, still my ancestors wanted me to know them and im grateful! It has been a sacred, sensual, radical and a limitless quest of my heart.

For some days we went to St. John which is the smallest and most rustic of the three Virgin Islands. AND hella gentrified by white people who were mostly oblivious or don’t care about the indigenous and Black history and presence of the island which was jarring. We supported Black St. Johnian businesses and connected with Black locals as much as we could.

A sacred highlight was: we got to commune with the Taino ancestors through visiting a reflective pool with spiritual carvings that predated the arrival of Europeans. This legacy of indigenous existence in the islands is precious and limited due to the brutality of colonization. Yet, the energy was peaceful potent and tender there.

We also visited the remains of sugar and bay rum plantations in the forest and on the ocean. I learned that many of these plantations were built on pre-existing Taino structures by forced African labor by Danish enslavement mostly. The African ancestors held my heart deeply in these spaces. They are amid forests that are peaceful and lush and yet you can still feel the misery that lingers amidst “paradise.”

The nature has reclaimed the structures via plants, bugs and ocean mist. Deer, hermit crabs, lizards, sun showers and rainbows everywhere you look. Ceiba trees are looming, living ancestors witnessing the generations and holding us. The ancestors omnipresent and loving.

I was held by one of my soul siblings @naimainfinity for this journey. We held each other for the first time in 2 years! This trip was definitely doula’d by Naima who always leads me into nature and to knowing this lineage with her love as chosen family. More chronicles soon!

Aries energy is an energy of beginnings and clarity of self.

Meditating on this time of year and what it represents to me. Aries energy is an energy of beginnings and clarity of self. It is weird starting spring and being in the house all of the time. More specifically, being afraid to leave the house. Living through a pandemic in a world that doesn’t center around life, the healing wisdoms of nature rhythms or natural law is complicated and hard not to be afraid.

I’ve been bumping a lot of Marvin Gaye and Gil Scott Heron, two of my favorite Aries spirits. They have a sensuality and sense of calling out what they see in the world in their music that has been very necessary right now for me to be soothed by and reflect on.

Marvin Gaye’s falsetto and sexuality is a force I’ve known my whole life, but begin to truly understand when I was in college when I played his, “I Want You” album on repeat. The songs on their are solid R & B grooves that give the perfect rhythmic metronome for pleasuring yourself in your single dorm room. His falsetto is spaceship healing shaped in gospel and perfected in the honey throat of a Black man who knows the multi-dimension of lust. I would get lost in his singing and it felt like being in a tunnel of soft pink and lush cotton candy. But sexier.

I was literally blessed AF to get to meet Gil Scott Heron in 2009 after seeing him perform at B.B. King’s in Manhattan. He had the gentlest and fiercest energy, and hearing him play was like watching a deity amongst humanity with a radical gospel. At that point he was an old man who was strong but subdued. He had been through so much in his career and I saw the weariness that the Black artist life leaves on the hearts of our elders. In meeting him, I wasn’t sure what his vibe was gonna be, because you never know with people, especially artists. When I met him though, he was so sweet in that way that Black people who grew up in a southern way are. Just laid back and present. I’ll never forget him taking off his sunglasses when he introduced himself and apologizing for seeming too cool with them on. I thought to myself, “this is literally the coolest person ever, he can do whatever he want!” Yet, in that moment he was just a gentle soul greeting another soul, who would take his shades off to connect with a stranger.

My favorite auntie who is very sexy and free is an Aries. I grew up with her dressing in head to toe Black and Red and going to the club in popping red lips, laughing loudly and gap-toothed. My hard headed and funny ass uncle, is also an Aries. We call him the “wild card” and I’ll leave it at that. I categorize people in my head, by their astrology a lot, which I know may be weird or obsessive, but whatever . I know the astrological sign of every person, thinker, feeler and creative soul I know. Mainly so I can think of the archetype of these signs and what these people teach me about that energy, how do they express it?

Aries Season

Spring Ram
child of the new leaves, 
beginnings and daybreaks.
Curled horns, fury and fire
heat spiciness unveiled
passion overwhelming energy to become
The newness of all things.
I am the first green
bud within the seeming never-ending frost,
finding sun is the desire to erupt.
A break into life, a possibility
for lushness and becoming.

The pop off, the sho nuff, the hot headed uncle
black knight. skin filled of fight.

The honey with the thick thighs
in a red dress
prepared to bring you to Goddess
through the fire making of rubbed thighs
smiles and sacred lust.
I am the hot block
The corner of action
of possibility, of tricksters
of fools.

I’m up in the house, pulling a lot of tarot cards.

I’m up in the house and since I’m up in the house, I’m pulling a lot of tarot cards. I’m getting good at it. At least for reading for myself. I feel like I appreciate guidance and I’ll seek it in anyway I can, in any cosmic oracle deck or wisdom spoken by my mama or rando I meet in the world. And memes be dropping jewels too. And gifs be funny! Black people are so brilliant and funny. I digress.

So one of these tarot cards I kept pulling, was the 8 of wands. It’s all about movement, very Sagittarius vibe. It’s about doing something out your comfort zone, and doing thangs with a sense of adventure and boldness and less about perfection. And, like I said I’m in the house cause of this pandemic. And for MONTHS I have promised myself that I would be out here blogging and I never did because I was busy running these streets!

I don’t know who these women are or where this image came from. But their flyness gives me life.

Why do I want to blog? Well, I think social media is such a quick mechanism to share ideas and it can be dazzling and pretty and funny. But it also makes me dizzy and barfy sometimes. I don’t feel comfy or safe there. Mainly cause I got a lot of feelings. I know I say this a lot, but it is the truest thing about me. I have a lot of feelings. I feel so many things, in so many ways, for so damn long. I feel for myself, I feel for other people, I feel things about people. And I always been a feeler since I was a wee little one. Can you relate?

I don’t even know where to begin. So as you all know this world is tore up from the floor up. This virus out here hurting and attacking people’s bodies and the stupidest, most masturbatory, and slimey-mouthed and racist doo-doo butt been committing biological warfare amongst the poorest and working class, and incarcerated and deputizing the world against our Asian and Asian-American family, and lying like the laziest fuckboy.

I mainly spend my days rocking myself in a corner to Marvin Gaye, consuming edibles and making elaborate meals, and avoiding cleaning and being like, “What the fuck? I really just need to stay my ass home, hunh?” I kinda like it sometimes. Mad gigs got cancelled, but the world slowed a little. I have experienced so much loss lately (for years) and I can grieve. I been inspired more, spending time with my child playing free, being with my thoughts. I’ve been writing and doing my make-up hella sexy for fun and it satisfies me like a little tender sweet thirst.

I get to be in a new rhythm with myself. That part is delicious. Besides that I’m consumed by the horrifying reality, that the most raggedyest and greedyest person ever is requiring emotional handjobs from other elected official leaders before he makes life-saving decisions to get people resources to live. Why is the world this way? I force myself to meditate on other things. That there are so many more beautiful and delicious and sexy people in the world who are brilliant and surviving and connected to spirit and are queer and full of wild passion for life and healing. I pray for all of us who are in the house and falling apart. Who are out working at the job and inside are falling apart. Whoa, this shit is not easy!!!

I think mainly, I’m plotting on the sweetnesses and how to expand them in magnificent and delicious ways, on a cellular level within me. How to distill my warrior energy into the most nurturing and tender movement in the world? How do I not die?

My Recipe for succulence:
Thousands of petals and leaves of sweetness from within
Dreaming eyes wide-open, mouth agape at the awe of it all
Copious vintage Black Lesbian erotica to heal unrequited queer youth
(Hmph)
Cinnamon cannabis drop to be nice to my lungs
talking to myself in sweet and elaborate lovingly ways
Mad amounts of Hugging myself really hard
following the lead of my daughter
Mad citrus and home-cooked meals
dancing when i feel like it
sitting my ass down and feeling it
talking with my ancestors about all of the things
massaging my body in the bathtub
thinking and feeling sexy
truly bonding with my wife in a tender emotional way
avoiding anything that makes me feel weird on the inside of me
poetry galore
doing bullshit that is numbing
looking at my messy house and being like, “whatever”
Binge watching thangs, all the thangs

Sweetness is here.

Sweetness is here, kissing at all things in me broken or confused...this mantra I created when I was sad is strangely useful to my heart in this time of sadness and change. And hope. I have so many emotions in my body and soul right now and I’ve been doing my best to feel them and witness them and have compassion for myself. This new year starts bittersweet but still sweet. My whole life I’ve known sadness and disappointment but have tried to find sweetness in my pain, like my black and queer ancestors. That practice is serving me today, taking it moment to moment. Being grateful even though I’m sad. Starting the new decade with being fiercely tender and spiritually connected, crying with and holding my wifey and giving thanks for our life. Wishing everyone meditations in sweetness as the decade blossoms open with limitlessness. It ain’t easy in these streets, y’all. This is me in Cameroon this fall in Ngowo’s mamas garden in my ancestral land being grateful and having joy.