Look Alive

Showing posts with label continued r/evolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label continued r/evolution. Show all posts

19 April 2016

Birth (of Biblical) Order

“What happens to a dream deferred?” - Langston Hughes

Bobo: The acronym of this title and, with the exception of legendary Latin jazz percussionist Willie’s stage surname, a label often given to clowns or fools as well as the substance (or lack thereof) that they hope for. When planning to revisit this space with a piece after a couple years’ hiatus, I admit feeling a bit foolish for denying myself the release of longer-form personal writing.

To savor and contribute to global good taste via writing and music are not my dreams, but my necessary reality in and beyond waking Life. The paper or screen helps guard the gates of my mouth and heart from the damage of impulse. It allows me to discern the readers’ abilities for and inclinations when handling the truth, especially in bites of 140 characters or so. That gatekeeper, unless tampered with, is also a most credible witness against the conviction of confusion.


Continuing from some of the previous 2014 post's content, the Holy Bible's Old and New Testament suggest that what one does with little, they will do with much. Besides, as was lyrically true for songstress and birth doula Erykah Badu, “my Ganny told me that when I was only a youth.” My own Ms. B shared whole worlds of wisdom with her flock, including guiding me through a lifetime of powerful dreams that required I go to sleep; not just obsess over worldly goals. Of any dream, she would say, never tell it all if you want it to happen. Every smiling face won’t be happy to see (you with) it. Yes ma’am. Self-deferment is best when rightfully applied to educational loans, not a righteous vision. If the delay is of The Most High, however, wait...despite storm and without worry.

Well before this post, the opening line of rhetoric from Langston Hughes’ poem also inspired playwright Lorraine Hansberry’s entire 1959 classic A Raisin in the Sun. The pair of literary legends, like the luteinizing hormone that stimulates a woman's ovulation in preparation for sexual conception or shedding and cleansing by blood, are like midwives of cultural renaissance to generations. The play happens to give secondary feature to respectively shady and slow-witted characters named Willy and Bobo whose penchant for get-rich-quick—or in my Grand’s dialect, “hurry come up”—schemes managed to sway the story’s otherwise sensible male protagonist, Walter Lee Younger.

He and his medical school-hopeful/tuition-hurt sister Beneatha couldn't quite get over the humps blocking their figurative dreams, try as their so-called lower-class family did. The firstborn and ‘baby’ pair, their mama Lena, deceased father Walter Sr.’s influence, Walter Lee’s wife Ruth and their 10-year-old son, Travis comprise their family and living structure.

Those who do and don’t believe in birth order’s influence on our psychology might find the Youngers’ dynamic quite telling, if not textbook. The eldest sibling checks out as a bossy achiever of sorts who carries as great a sense of responsibility to family matters as to self-pleasure, i.e. wanting to open a lucrative business for everyone’s benefit but insisting it be a liquor store despite adamant protest.

The last-born also fits the archetype as an affectionate, uncomplicated life-of-the-party whose admiration of a certain African student easily sprung to the actions of embracing clothing traditional to Joseph Asagai’s Nigeria and letting its drums resound in the home so much so their ancestral spirit quickened even big brother’s feet; at least in the early stage version.

If the story followed Travis, we might have had the chance to see the mature, detail-oriented, critical yet conscientious loner’s confidence of the only child at work. There’d be no personal protest if Ms. Hansberry chose to expound that way as I like healthy surprises and realities that engage but aren’t stuck in or on the box of typical, especially negative approaches to Life.


As my parents’ only offspring, albeit always raised in the home and community as with an older then a younger sister of sorts, common assumptions and utterances of ‘oh, you must be spoiled’ ignorance to my middle-born experience were tolerated jokes.

If ‘only’… I might've discreetly yet immediately checked offenders, waited until s/he caught up to the reality that his or her incorrect judgments were custom specs for their own new clothes then maybe drafted an accurate, color map highlighting the most efficient route ‘the hell on’ while avoiding all routes that step to me with foolishness and related tolls.

Grateful for the structural centering, however, the loyal, mildly rebellious peacemaker given to late bloom’s balance proved to be a healthy place from which to blend and apply the insights I also gained from being a younger ‘sibling’; a big sis once college and adult life called the older one, then comfortable on my own among almost any.

They say middles tend to embrace the world’s causes and people due to a feeling of no or mistaken identity in their immediate circles. Sometimes misguided responses curse that middle way and simply turn the attention, never the Love, back to where it’s received with understanding: within. If need be, one can always go without... . Then again, the world's “They” say a lot.


Thanks to the skilled tradesmen in my family, I’ve also learned a thing or two about being handy. To measure, cut, ventilate, level, build, beautify, assign functional space and watch the bottom line are all-ways essential. Hand-me-downs, pick-me-ups and even nothing when given in the right spirit are equally, if not easily, accepted by a giver privy early to Life's fickle come-and-go flow.

I sought theme music for my process and sampled a bit of Brand Nubian as I remembered rapper Grand Puba often referred to any shady or slick schpiel as ‘kicking the Willy Bobo’ years before Diddy, Sanaa Lathan, Phylicia Rashad and Audra MacDonald’s 2004 then 2008 stage and film revivals.

Finally, I meditated on the percussionist’s “Guajira”, said to refer to a genre and interpersonal expression of country, rustic, or very meager/peasant-like means. In the song, that's a girl specifically from Cuba's now-infamous Guantanamo Bay area; in the story above, south side Chicago; and in spirit, anywhere.



Isaiah 55:11 states that God’s Word will never return to Him void without having achieved its Divine, if not mortal, purposes. In the unexpectedly beautiful Way that things come together via such Love, the ensemble that performed on “Guajira” features a man named Israel. Although not a double bassist, an Israel that knows quite a bit about siblings, stereotypes of order and other life struggles is otherwise known as Jacob, father of the 12 tribes.

The 12 tribes of Israel is a blended sibling group whose birth order and affiliations have known much controversy throughout the millennia. Some have assigned them to different people of color across the globe. Others have likened the ‘brothers’ (allegorically masculine energy, solar principle) to the 12 zodiac signs. At the risk of shocking the consciousness that regards God’s Word and God’s (extra)terrestrial Creation as separate from each other, I have found some sensible parallels in the celestial associations. Father, forgive me if need be.

Psalm 19 might not be an outright call to study astrology and astronomy, but its speech seems to suggest an awareness and reverence of God’s power over our heads that is fundamentally different from the condemnation of manipulative acts of sorcery alongside adulterers and murderers. I alone, an inadequate representative of the Almighty God’s fullness, can't say definitively.


Maybe the technical ‘only’ in me was a bit too introverted and library-loving all those years ago. When Genesis chapters 30 and 49 describe Israel’s firstborn Reuben as the line’s might, strength, honor and power, the martial essence of most Aries degrees and some of Taurus’ steady strength surfaces. Likening their swords (or words) to weapons and cursing the expression of their vicious anger when aroused, Simeon and Levi were divided and scattered. The duality gives a nod to the Gemini archetype while the latter name literally means “joined” and hints at the twins.

Creative Leo’s link to the lion’s whelp that is Judah’s assignment to bold leadership and praise read as a self-evident truth. That Asher’s “dainties”, “delicacies” and “fat bread” resonated with much of Virgo’s refined nature and association with harvest wheat made sense just as Issachar's hard-driving yet genteel balance of the beast nature (i.e. the donkey and sheep) for which “there is a reward” spoke to the justice of primarily Libran values.

The discerning judgment of Dan as the snake that bites the horse’s heelas well as their bad rap removal for idolatry in Judges 18—read like the evolution of Scorpio and Gad’s “good fortune” despite attack read like the Jovian Sagittarius. The Naphtali “doe” and “hind” of good words (or legacy), although referring to deer described as sure-footed in high places in the Psalms, seemed closest to the Capricorn goat.

The last-born of that family, or wash-belly in Grand’s terms, was Benjamin, deemed ravenous as a “wolf”. The individualistic, loner quality is akin to Aquarius, said to be ruled by both eccentric Uranus and taskmaster Saturn. It resonates with the sharp senses of one who could devour or shock by day and distribute the spoils at night. Needless to say, the Pisces fish could very well “dwell” by the seashore as did Zebulon. Sister Dinah sure wasn't accounted for.


This brings us back to Joseph, albeit a bit more deeply than previously discussed. Set aside from brother Ben and his half-siblings much like those Levites assigned to priestly duties, “fruitful” blessings of the skies, the deep, the breast and the womb were bestowed upon him, hearkening a connection with fertile Cancer sign of the crab and the dog star, Sirius. If only from the viewpoint of ancient agrarian society, I understood that the late spring-early summer season marking the sun’s apex would represent a practical yet sacred time. Later, his bountiful portion would, in turn, be assigned to sons Ephraim and Manasseh.

Joseph wasn't the baby or the biggest sibling. Joseph was just, in Grace as and wherever he stood especially because those places were in the integrity of his elder’s positive teaching. Subject to schemes and left for dead by those who might have reduced to psychobabble what I can only guess were the alleged brat’s initial pleas for mercy and reason, he showed similar fortitude when accused of adulterous behavior by the boss in whose palace he eventually served once he emerged from the pit.

His time in captivity might even have given detention at Guantanamo a run for its money where comfy amenities and personalities are concerned. However rough and undue as the ‘get over (it)’ chorus variation the others likely projected as his swan-song, so far it’s Biblically accurate to say that was great advice for Joseph to take. He couldn't have helped them out of their figurative pits if he didn't.


Of course, my thoughts are just that of an imperfect human vessel. There are ordained clergy and well-decorated humanities scholars from the world's finest universities who expect to authoritatively address every jot and tittle of religious data. I don’t believe the stars, like anyone or anything created, deserves more importance or worship than our Creator.

Various theories abound as there are discrepancies in the birth order of the tribes and their introduction in the scriptures. Discoveries of hand-painted ostraca, or pottery, remnants allegedly bearing original Biblical content, are yet underway. How do we avoid violating the charge not to add to or subtract from The Word if it’s still being revealed by The Holy Spirit over generations? Has the time of sealed knowledge come, making sense of the madness that sometimes plagues our modern times?

Truth is, we might all be clowns with increasingly prominent noses for believing our denomination, dogma, native language or preferred scriptural version can monopolize the heart of Heaven to launch us past "Go!" Chances are, dancing to your own drum may sooner place you in the heart of struggle where your dreams or gifts will earn any title but child of God. Anyone who has ever dared to live has been there. Rest assured in knowing that the only fool is s/he who’s spirit is unteachable and resistant to birthing a better self. If you're up for the task, at any age, stay prayerful—not eager or eviland keep on pushin'.


-20*20-

29 April 2012

Yellow No. 2

I recently noticed for the first time two things that could have gotten my attention much sooner. One was an impromptu, first glimpse at the TV One series, "Black Men Revealed". The second was the Charlize Theron film, "Young Adult". (Actually, the movie "Tower Heist" made three and its key element of gold might fit as you read on; just not enough for these primary purposes.) From the outside, the two appear to have nothing in common. Removing the varied s(k)ins from the surface, however, I was surprised to find the themes of unrequited love and miscarriage at the heart of both.

In BMR's case, the random episode from the first of two seasons featured five celebrities discussing their run-ins with emotionally and/or mentally unstable women who took great lengths to bring confusion and displaced anger to their lives and those of anyone even remotely involved with them. Vandalism of property, phone/e-mail tampering and suicidal or homicidal threats were among the suffering the men chose to speak of. Who knows what pain they might have encouraged in and/or suffered under those women?

Incidentally, Theron's Mavis Gray character spent a bit more than the movie's first hour wreaking havoc in an old flame's happily married-with-child life due to her disappointment with the high-rise living, ghostwriting success story she'd drafted for herself. Divorcing her adolescent 'mean girl' ways, hometown (less than an hour away in the same state) and eventual husband for the exciting comeuppance of the "mini Apple" also known as Minneapolis were not enough. To ask her, any entity other than her liver had to pay.

Unknown to each other, the TV episode and movie showed how secrets or the lack of knowledge otherwise led to damaged relationships. Possibly without realizing how shamefully little he knew or cared about women's health, one gentleman on the show seemed self-justified in breaking up with a young lady he "really liked" for what he deemed lying because she answered his question of ever having had children or an abortion with an honest "no" but told him of a miscarriage she endured. I can only imagine the insult his ignorance added to her injuries. The movie's climax, on the other hand, featured Ms. Gray's shameless, hard liquor-infused attempts to gain company for her misery at the couple's party by revealing the tragedy she and the high school ex experienced so many years prior. While their unborn child's death had nothing to do with SIDS or the abortion procedure Mr. TV Show Guest (and possibly thousands of other people lump into one type of the various judgment balls we dodge daily), the script's context suggests it was sudden and painful enough for Mavis to consciously harm and disregard the existence of a bond outside of her own fixation.

Had the confused panelist not been emotionally abandoned early on by his mother as he shared in the episode, he might have been less inclined to pursue those really deceptive and unavailable women he gravitated to instead of allowing himself to grow and better know the one he accused. Had Gray or anyone else besides the object of her greatest hatred realized her heart's stagnation in the early stages of grief, she might have accepted that said object and her greatest desire were actually one in the same; the former simply wanting for another what wellness she wanted for herself, despite the painful self-hatred dressed as disrespect she'd received. There really is no place for dark spirits to linger too long in the light of Truth.

I once read a line somewhere to the effect of points being futile, because erasers exist. Although it was worded and presented in a much cuter package than what I've just offered, it was and still is false. For better or worse, everyone knows that some things can never be erased—especially not with temporary reversals of fortune based only on what we tell ourselves. Can those things be excused or embraced? If it's not out of one's place or enabling of flaws but healthy and wise to do so, yes. I also believe patience, transparency and understanding will assist that process.

Come to think of it, those three would work well in solving most math problems or for standardized exams of any subject. These days, iPads and other technology that can get touched in classes eliminates yesteryear's convenient but easily compromised dry erase boards and clear film. For those utilizing good ol' No. 2 pencils, exam tips are the same. Know what you're doing, take your time, avoid erasing so as not to jeopardize your score but, if you must, do so thoroughly enough to clearly state your answer while keeping the sheet intact.

Will we see yellow as a sign of fear and an opposing, unfiltered jaundice of sorts or expand our sights to include the color as an expression of joy, the ripeness of Earth and a centered will balanced with caution? Something tells me the second option is a good idea. All the best in your tests.