Anxious? Just Breathe

All week I've been having the craziest dreams.  Yesterday I fell asleep on the couch and was jolted awake by a pole being rammed into my right eye.  Then last night I dreamt that my novel came out but the cover was a carbon copy of the book The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (which looks nothing like what I envision).  I was at Barnes & Noble for a book signing, but  instead of being elated I was a nervous knot.  Nothing was going right.  The letters on the book cover were spelled out sloppily and inverted as if little Miss bossy did the graphics, and just as I was about to take the podium, someone from the audience started screaming, "plagiarizer, you stole this material from a famous book!"  Then the crowd started chanting, "plagiarizer, plagiarizer..." and I was as mortified as a mouse caught in a cheese trap.  I woke up with my stomach churning like a sausage-maker.

Even though I know I'm on the right path I'm still a bit anxious about taking on the project of publishing my own work.  There is a ton of behind the scenes work that has to be perfect in order for this project to be successful.  I'm a perfectionist on my best days and though things are lining up with the smile of God, that voice of self-doubt keeps trying to wiggle her way into my head.  I told you what to do when she slinks around, kick that heffa in the face with a steel-toed stiletto and step right over her.  So I am, I have, but she can be relentless and  hard to crush.  So what's a girl to do?  I breathe.  Sounds simple right, but true. 

The moment my head starts reeling with the what ifs, I take nice deep long breaths and focus on how the breathing makes my body feel.  Are you aware that some of us go through our whole day without ever taking time to breathe?  Trust me, breathing changes thing.  By simply tuning into your breath can help you move from a place of anxious, nervous energy into a calm and relaxing state, turning those moments that feel impossible into absolutely possible. 

Try it now, you can do it right at your desk with your eyes opened or closed (I prefer closed).  Breathe in while focusing on the flow of air through your nose, feel it go deep down into your chest and then exhale.  Notice the sensations, the aliveness in your body as you breathe.  Keep going, allow yourself to ride the wave of your own breath in and out.  In and out.  Ah!  Doesn't that feel good?  When I feel those low vibration thoughts of fear, anger, anxiety, depression, self-doubt and jealousy start creeping into my veins I find my breath.  I breathe until the moment passes.  Then I focus on filling myself up with higher vibration energies such as love, gratitude, peace, kindness, joy, grace, and that negative energy that was trying to grab a hold of me has no choice but to let go.  Why wouldn't it, I have a steel-toe stiletto.

 

Your task for this week is remember your own greatness.  You are worthy.  And if you still need more motivation, play Marsha Ambrosius' new album (the other half of Floetry), because I'm running the heck out of it and it's making me so happy!

Namaste Beautiful,
Love, Light and Laughter!

If You Believe!

I'm the reason why the children are outside trying to catch snowflakes on their tongue at the start of spring.  How else can I explain that things are happening for me so fast that my tummy is tap-dancing and my head twirling?  You remember the "almost publishing deal" and how I've had to flick the dirt from my collar, shake the rejection from my dress and try again.  Well, I've decided that I can no longer take no for an answer.  I've worked to hard perfecting the craft of writing and filling Erica and Warren's (main characters of Love in a Carry-on Handbag) voice with substance and juice, not to mention that they are both sexy as hell.  I've been at it for over ten years and now I'm ready for this project to pay some dividends. 

Honey has been after me since the beginning, encouraging me to put the novel out myself, but I've been dead set on selling my labor of love to a leading publishing house.  Why, because I've wanted the creditability of being plucked from the sea of hungry writers and welcomed behind the distinguishing curtain of "worthy writers with talent."  Well low and behold, I've discovered on this journey that the club no longer exists.  The big houses are in crisis, Border's has declared bankruptcy with Barnes & Noble right behind them, and editors can no longer take on those passion projects that most of us debut authors benefited from.  So gosh darn it, what's a girl to do?

Two weeks ago I pulled a Rune for myself that said, "your thinking is outmoded and you need to let go because you are holding on too tight."  Clearly not what I wanted to hear.  The next day Honey asked me, "is your goal to put this book out, or is your goal to put this book out with a major publishing house?"  Darn it.  Leave it to your spouse to shove a mirror in your face and make you examine your egotistical demons.  Of course I want a big publishing house, with a big marketing plan and sales budget.  I want to be the next big sensation that booksellers can't keep on the shelves complete with expense accounts, foreign rights, movie deals, the whole nine.  "So how are you going to get there," he asked. That's when I poked my lip out and crossed my arms with as much attitude as I could muster, mad that he asked the question, and hating that I had to deal with it.  Why isn't anything ever easy? 

Shedding more tears and then yanking my head from the clouds, I realized that it was time to make an adjustment.  Like the Rune said, my thinking is so outdated that Honey calls me a dinosaur.  I have been clinging and clutching to this idea of how it is supposed to be with such strength, that I've ignored the signs that God has placed in my path.  The other reason why I have not wanted to self-publish is because the work involved terrifies me.  As a stay-at-home mother who writes, the idea of one more thing getting in the way of my precious time penning is a no-no.  Contrary to what some may think, the written word does not drip off my fingers like liquid gold.  I can spend hours on one paragraph so taking on the responsibility of putting the whole package together is daunting, to say the least.

But have you heard the saying, "if you take one step towards God he'll take two steps towards you?"  Here I am testifying once again that it is happening to me!  As soon as I said yes to it, the doors flung wide open and the water carrying the right people, information and plan to help me along this journey rushed in.  Just today I reached out on blind faith to a top-tiered editor for assistance, and you know what she said?  "Of course I'd love to work on your manuscript."  Can you see me dancing in the kitchen with my hair sweating out?  This past weekend I came in contact with not one but THREE graphic artist who have wonderful ideas on how to make the book cover art pop like a shiny piece of licorice.  Honey is behind the scenes crunching the numbers, and with my publishing background things seem to be falling right in line. 

Love in a Carry-on Handbag is no longer an urban myth.  It really is coming to a store near you courtesy of 12th Street Press (Philly people holler if you hear me!).  I urge you to keep the faith and remember when failure trips you up and tries to strap you to the bed, kick that Heffa in the face with a steel-tip stiletto and step right over her.  Open your mind and remember the plan for you is much bigger than you could ever dream up.  I'm living proof!

Ashay! Namaste! Amen Beautiful!

Phenomenal Woman

Geraldine Murray (paternal)

2016 Moore Street housed some of my best childhood memories.  Sliding down the living room stairs wrapped in a blanket like it was a super slide, playing Chinese checkers with Poppop while being careful not to knock over his whiskey, eating thick slices of scrapple even though my father forbid his mother from serving us "swine," along with the most buttery silver dollar pancakes ever turned over a hot iron griddle.  Watermelon, pineapples, honey dew, cantaloupe chopped in bite sized chunks for whenever our little fingers craved a taste.  Schoolhouse in the middle bedroom where I was always the teacher my siblings my faithful students, jumping on the bed in the back room until our legs gave out or Mommom called from the bottom of the stairs, “stop that rough housing before I come up there," which just made us laugh because we knew she wasn’t walking up the stairs.  Mommom claimed she wasn’t one of those grandmothers who baked cakes and churned homemade ice cream and she was never keen on long body crushing hugs, but her love is and has always been obvious and apparent.   


I know Phenomenal women.  Don't you?

 Yvonne Clair (maternal)


My Gram dressed in her hot pink fedora while catching three trains with her pacemaker pumping, and arthritis aching all to attend little Miss bossy's 3rd birthday party.  When she hobbled through the door with her back bent, I knew that not even a rainstorm could have kept her from celebrating the birthday of the child that she prayed into the world.  From the cushiony chair in my too chilly hospital room she wrung her hands and recited bible verses long since committed to heart, proclaiming that my little one would arrive safely.  The baby that the doctors cautioned me could be still-born, mildly retarded and non-commutative.  When I screamed in anguished from birthing with no drugs, she shouted, "Help her sweet Jesus!"  Didn't I tell you I know Phenomenal women. 


My mother, who I give more attitude than even I can stand is sweetest at her core, and no matter what I do she never stops showering me with her overwhelming love.  You can find her washing our clothes, nourish our bodies with home-cooked meals, bathing my kids, dusting them in baby powder and greasing their scalps until their little bodies are squeaky-Nana approved-clean.  Always in my business asking me questions that make me clutch my crystal, and when I give her that look she replies, "what, I'm your mother!"  That she is and I'm grateful. 


I'm bragging now folks, because I really do know  Phenomenal women.  "Lucky" is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel to have a mother-in-law who God hand-picked just for me out of His magnificent sky.  A strong woman who raised her son to be a gentleman, and after almost nine years of marriage that man still helps me with my coat and opens doors for me like we're on a first date.  She loves me like I'm her child, and she nourishes me with her timeless wisdom. Trust me ladies, I know this isn't common and I consider myself privileged because I also have a wonderful "Second Mother," who is the perfect companion for my father and treats me like she birthed me.  Yes ma'am,  I know Phenomenal women.  Don't you?

Sisters

"Every sister ain't a sister," is how we greet each other when the other hasn't called in more than two days.  Our attachment is fierce and my sisters have my back even when I'm contradictorily wrong.  Then there is my sister circle who cheers me on and lifts me up.  The ladies in my meditation class who Om with me and share my ups and downs--I feel your prayers and I salute you for being Phenomenal women. 

When I was a girl I use to pray to God to send me a daughter so that I'd have someone to take to the nail salon.  Well he sent me two.  My Prima Diva asks me all the time, "mommy do you love me or what?" and I interpret this as, do you love me enough to show me by example how to be all that is possible?  Will you work hard, mommy, to break old patterns that Ms. Iyanla Vanzant refers to as, "that DNA core level stuff that's got roots and cause, historical patterns and pathology that's embedded so deep we don't even know where to begin?"  Yes I know I'm getting deep, but its true, and my darling baby girl I do.  You will be a Phenomenal women.  Cause that's all I know.  Don't you?

Prima Diva  

little Miss bossy turns three today and I can't stop saying thank you to God because those doctors told me she wouldnt' be all right---could be this, might be that, we'll just have to wait and see.  I remember looking at her as an infant thinking I can't wait until you are three so that we can prove them wrong, and now baby girl is three and doing mighty fine.  Holler if you hear me, and believe me when I say I know Phenomenal woman. 

little Miss bossy

So in honor of all of the women, teachers, guides, who move through my life and are too countless to name, know that I'm honoring you.  My lovely readers, I salute and pay hommage to you with this classic poem from our beloved Maya Angelou who said, "I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels.  Life's a bitch.  You've got to go out and kick ass."  I give you....  

PHENOMENAL WOMAN 

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally,
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
They swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But that can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breast,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomanal woman,
That's me.
In honor of Women's History month share this blog with one other Phenomenal woman!

Phenomenally yours,
Sadeqa        

A Penny for Your Books...Please!

The written word feels like a French kiss to my untethered soul.  When I was in kindergarten I remember sitting in our South Philadelphia kitchen with my older cousin Donnie reading the pictures of a book with such reverence that he commented, "girl you swear you can read."  That was before ever child was born talented and gifted and we didn't learn to read until first or second grade.  My family moved shortly thereafter and in our new house I didn't have many books.  But in third grade I was granted the privilege of my very first library card, and in the sound of a snap I went from a girl who liked to skate, skip and step, to a head over heals book worm. 

It feels like just yesterday when the summer was salty and sultry and I was dressed in a flowing skirt and moccasin sandals, walking with a handful of books six blocks to the Logan library.  The stone steps sent a jolt of excitement through my heart that was hard to contain as I pulled back the heavy door and entered heaven.  Just the smell of black ink on all of those stitched pages cast all thoughts of making it home in time for dinner far, far away.  I was helpless to the stories in books by America's favorite adolescent authors Judy Blume, Paula Danzinger and Joanna Hurwitz.  Each week I trotted home with five books and I repeated the act with such faithfulness that the librarian started setting new arrivals aside for me. 

In seventh grade I discovered the Sweet Valley High series, you remember the books about the popular identical twins that were always pretending to be each other and getting into trouble?  My teacher Mr. Klechuski looked liked he smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds a day and his coffee was always getting caught in his hippy beard and mustache so it was hard to take him seriously.  Instead of paying attention while he taught things that I already knew, I slipped my paperback between the pages of my text book and lost myself for the entire day.  It wasn't until high school that I discovered the great African-American writers such as Maya Angelou, Terry McMillan, Toni Morrison and Bebe Moore Campbell and I would read so much during my fifty-minute lunch period that my best friend would hide my books in an attempt to make me social.

So in honor of Woman's History month, I've composed a list of my favorite books by or about women to share with you.  Some will make you laugh, holler, and get so far under your skin that you'll want to share it with your book club.  Books make me oh so happy, and I hope you will enjoy one or all of them.

Fiction
Acting Out by Benilde Little
Your Blues Ain't Like Mine by Bebe Moore Campbell
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
Leaving Cecil Street by Diane McKinney Whetstone
Now is the Time to Open Your Heart by Alice Walker
Sugar by Bernice McFadden
This Bitter Earth by Bernice McFadden
Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho
Brida by Paulo Coelho
The Blue Orchard by Jackson Taylor
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
Mama by Terry McMillan
Disappearing Acts by Terry McMillan
Drinking Coffee Elsewhere (short stories) by ZZ Packer
Damaged by Kia DuPree
Orange Mint and Honey by Carleen Brice
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
* Love in a Carry-on Handbag by Sadeqa Johnson (coming soon!)
Historical fiction (slavery, futurist, biblical)
Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez
Cane River by Lalita Tademy
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler
Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler
Family by J California Cooper
A Long Way From Home by Connie Briscoe
Jubilee by Margaret Walker
Memoir / Biography /Autobiography
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
Laughing in the Dark by Patrice Gaines
The Glass Castle by Jeanette Wall
Memoirs of Geisha by Arthur Golden
Foreign Fiction
The Bride Price by Buchi Emecheta
The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta
The Autobiography of My Mother by Jamaica Kincaid
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
Spiritual
Peace From Broken Pieces by Iyanla Vanzant
Yesterday, I Cried by Iyanla Vanzant
Everyday Grace by Marianne Williamson
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Seven Soulful Secrets for Finding your Purpose and Minding Your Mission by Stephanie Stokes Oliver
Listening Below the Noise: A Meditation on the Practice of Silence by Anne D. LeClaire
You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hays
Woman's Studies
Women who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Naked: Black Women Bare All About Their Skin, Hair, Lips, Hips and other Parts by Ayana Byrd
Star Woman by Lynn V. Andrews
Mama Gena's School of Womanly Arts: Using the Power of Pleasure to Have your way with the World by Regena Thomashauer
The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine
On Writing
bird by bird (some instruction on writing) by Anne Lamott
The Right to Write by Julia Cameron
Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg
Poems
Love Poems by Nikki Giovani
Maya Angelou Poems: by Maya Angelou
Head Off & Split: Poems by Nikky Finney
Selected Poems (PS) by Gwendolyn Brooks
Plays
For colored girls who have considered suicide / When the rainbow was enuf  by Ntozake Shange
The Colored Museum by George C. Wolfe
A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry
Spunk by George C. Wolfe
Ma Rainey's Black Bottom by August Wilson

So this is my list!  Make some time this month to curl up with one or a few of these books in honor of the many women writers and stories that have paved the way for us today.  Happy reading!

With gratitude,
Love, Light and Laughter!

Dreamboards Anyone?

This weekend I had my sister circle over for an over night girls hang out.  Yes, I’m talking about a big girl slumber party complete with extra dessert, reserved bottles of wine, faux punch and fuzzy slippers.  My circle has been meeting once a month for almost 11 long years and it seems like just yesterday that we met for the first time.  Each month we laugh, sometimes cry, and always spend time encouraging each others dreams and cheerleading from the sideline.  Saturday was my turn to host.  My theme was “Manifesting Your Dreams,” and after whipping up a fabulous feast of ginger soy salmon, sautéed cabbage, cous cous and butternut squash with roasted candied walnuts, we chatted and chewed, and then sat in meditation. 

I'm sure you are familiar with the phenomonen “The Secret.”  Right?  Well, after seeing Lisa Nichols and Michael Beckwith on Oprah and watching The Secret video I created my first dreamboard nearly five years ago, but with all the changes happening in my life my board was badly in need of an update.  For our dreamboards I supplied the group with poster boards, scissors and glue sticks and encouraged them to bring their old magazines and newspapers so that we could cut and create the life we’d like to live.  Dreamboards are simple to make and very powerful.  It's like a declaration to the Universe/to God of what you want to manifest into your life.  So after a ten minute group meditation, we reflected on our Intention for the upcoming months and then got to work cutting, snipping, gluing and taping it all together.

Making dreamboards is a wonderful bonding experience for you to try out with a group, but you can absolutely do this on your own.  Two of my friends decided that instead of making big bulky boards, they’d rather glue their pictures in a small notebook that they could carry with them everyday and reflect on it when the mood hit.  Another friend made her dreamboard on her computer and uses the photo of it as her screensaver.  Whatever works, works, and I strongly encourage you to give it a try.  Boards are sold at the likes of Staples for a few bucks and everyone has a pair of scissors and some tape lying around.  We didn’t actually finish our boards until the next morning and as each woman bid me adieu, I could feel the joy beneath her skin.   My sisters left my house carrying their new lives with them and their new sense of empowerment couldn't be contained.  Those boards that we breathed our dreams into with our healing hands were shouting!

Yes, you can do this.  A new house, that’s your.  A better job, you got it.  An attitude adjustment, at your service.  Of course you can have the life you want! Coming right up!

Everything begins with a simple step.  Since my conversation with God I have felt all types of shifts in my life.  I feel myself aligning with the higher source of energy that makes all things possible.  I'm humbled by this experience and so incredibly grateful.  My heart feels like it has been scraped clear and that there is a whole in the center attracting pure white, dazzling, healing Light.  I wish the very same thing for you and I hope you enjoy making your dreamboards!  Let me know how it goes.

Namaste Beautiful!
Love, Light and side-splitting Laughter!