Just Some Thoughts…

"While we are encompassed by a world of problems, it is our responsibility to decide how we react." -thepositivendeavour

You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys

Stoned

January 22, 2015

I feel like I’m 21 and divorced; God I need some. I’m feeling loyal to a girl that I haven’t won. And ultimately my faith lies in You or in this world, but either way I don’t foresee “fun”. I can sing, “It Is Well” then burn in hell screaming, “Why am I the one You have forsaken?” Or since they call me Munk, become monk, and restrain my cum until the day I’m done. Damn. At least I’ll see the ones who’ve gone on before me, but as of late I’ve just been feeling so earthly. It’s fear that’s been instilled in me. I fear God so much sometimes I forget that He’s supposed to love me. Freshman year I was condemned to hell because of my jewelry, yet she didn’t even take the time to hear my story. Flipped the script and traded in slit wrists for a pierced lip. Pain for pain. Traded in hospital bed grips for a tatted chin. Win for win. Sometimes the pain that hides within might seep out on your skin. Dang.

However, I won’t justify anything. But little brother and little sister are out here with their javelins. I speak my thoughts, and they’re ready to throw it at my sins. And I used to be the same way with my older brother until I fell in my pit. I may not drink, smoke, or party, but I’m still struggling. Doing things that my younger self would never do. Thinking thoughts my baby mind couldn’t construe. And lately deaths been in the waters; it’s been stirring up the seas. It’s messing with my ship; it’s trying to drown me. I don’t want another shift in the dynamics of my family. She’s been sick for soo long, but I’m just thinking of me. I won’t front and act as if I ever really knew her, so please save the condolences because my cold shoulders’ becoming frost bitten and it’s only turning bluer. And I know my right to pursue happiness, but life never opted to be kind to the pursuer.

Yesterday, I traded in some sick shit for some righteousness. Instead of taking a weekend trip for a quick fix I’ll be “working” on my sins. So does that make me pious?! Nah. And gramps is choosing death over the suffering. Damn. Their matrimonies’ been a couple decades in the making. Man…

I’d Die Young

October 7, 2013 — 1 Comment

I can remember when I was a child. Everything took on the characteristic of happiness. All of my days seemed bright, and the only stress that would occasionally plague my soul was the anticipation of a spanking. Tears were rare, but I was often troubled by the slightest divergence from the moral standard I had set for myself. Conditioned to think that if I was bad I would go to hell, I would try my best to be good and do good. My moral character was constantly being exercised. I would create a superset for myself. Abstain from a lie: push-up. Maintain my integrity while taking a test: pull-up. Obey when my parents or my grandmother told me to do something: sit-up. My moral character grew, and I was becoming perfect…. I was becoming saved. The preachers words would resonate in my head. Be good. Do good. And forget the cliché’s. Maybe that’s how some of my peers felt as they sat and listened to children story after children story. After all, we were closing in on the age in which the call for us to walk down the isle and sit center stage was no longer applicable. We were supposed to be growing up, but I was still touched. This was supposed to be cool, but I was in no rush. I knew I would be young forever. I never liked hearing the old folks talk about youth. Youth was only delegated to certain people. I was born young. They were born old.

When I was young, I was good. When I was young, I did good. I did not take for granted the words that I heard in church. Often perplexed by the sinful little humans that surrounded me, I would ask myself why these kids did not want to be saved. I was a kid, and I wanted to be saved, so I was good. I did good. Everything was so easy. Puberty was unheard of, and my hormones were in good spirits. I just liked to be outside. I just liked to run around and burn off all the energy which caused a great deal of inattentiveness in my class of life. You see, I was oblivious that time was passing and that I was getting older. I was unaware that I would soon have an affinity for computer screens and obscene things. But I would always spill the beans to mother because of my conscience. It was because I was holy and into all that pious nonsense. It’s such a shameful thing, but I would soon become a teen.

I remained oblivious that time was moving and that I was getting older. I guess I never deemed it possible. I would often hear older people talk about life and the stress it can bring. What the hell are they talking about? They must be doing something wrong. Tighten up. I continued to make judgments as life continued to make subtle moves on me.

High school…

“We are praying for you and your family.” What is happening? What went wrong? No one told me what hospice was. In fact, I was relieved to see her in our worship room when I came home from school. The plethora of hospital visits were beginning to get to me. Plus after weeks of silence the doctor finally said there were signs of improvement. I was young however. I didn’t know life was making moves. That room would soon be void of life and the equipment that was only meant to ease humans to their grave. I would soon see tears from my mothers eyes for the first time. Things were changing. I was aging. I was born to be young however. I was born to be young.

College…

By this time, I should have been well aware that life was moving on me. I knew I was getting older, but I was born to be young. I knew that she could have an immense effect on me, but I continued to be touched. So I touched. But I was supposed to be perfect. It’s just something would always convince me that it would be worth it as I’d unearth hips and kiss lips. I had long strayed from the moral standard I set for myself when I was a child. I realized was growing old. I realize I am growing old. I always believed that I would die slowly, but life is moving fast. My mind often fishes around in the past hoping to renew it as the present….

Times is moving, and things are constantly changing. I always thought that I was born to be young. Then l grew up.

Like A Star

March 6, 2013

Disclaimer: Take a deep breathe. Open your mind. Begin to imagine.

Hey. Hi there. Hello. Umm I’m sorry…I just get kind of nervous at the thought of you. Please excuse me. I just need to run to the bathroom to dry my hands real quick. Okay, there we go. My name is Bakari. What’s yours? Ohh that’s a pretty cool name. Are you American? Cool! I was born in the states, but I rep Guyana all day every day. So you must know about that cook up rice and cook curry! Ha ha, that’s too cool. We may have to throw down in the kitchen sometime! So tell me more about yourself. What are some of your aspirations in life? Personal goals? Wow, I was kinda expecting a glittery cliché to-do list. Well either that or a stuttered answer based on your lack of thought about it prior to this conversation. It’s rare to talk to a girl who has solid goals that span beyond the realm of modern academia. What steps are you presently making toward those goals? That’s awesome dude! I can definitely relate to what you’re saying, but I just try to remember that time becomes more and more scarce from here. I definitely agree with what you’re saying though.

I like your style by the way. You seem pretty comfortable in your own skin. Are you anything else besides goal-oriented and academically driven? Ha ha, oh my! I mean I’m just kind of shocked that you care about your health. I know that everyone has some degree of concern for their health, but most people our age reckon their youth makes them invincible. I visit the nursing home far to often to neglect the importance of adopting a healthy lifestyle. Are you interested in community service or things of that nature by any chance? Awesome! Maybe I could introduce you to some of my people at the nursing home one day. This is kinda random, but do you ever party? Seriously? I was just curious. It’s just most of the girls that I’m attracted to or that are attractive in general seem to be into it. I guess that’s a large portion of college girls anyway. A lot of my high school friends are into it, but I guess it wouldn’t seem that weird if I told you I’ve never been to a college party. But yea I agree. And like you said, it is a pretty good outlet for girls who want to let loose sometimes without being called a slut or a hoe.

Ha ha, how do you posses all these great qualities and manage to stay single? You Miss Independent or something? *Stands up to put on a demonstration* Okay, okay enough ha ha. I’ll sit down now. Most of my friends admit they can only manage small doses of me. Ba ha ha ha! You seem to have a unique humor yourself! Too funny! No no no. Let’s not talk about me. We are learning about you today. Okay, okay. Relax. Truth is I am a man of integrity. If I were to acquire a girlfriend that would leave thousands of other women envious. A wickedly sinful practice you know. My conscience would not allow me to take part in such self-absorbed behavior! I am single for the sake of her. And her. And for her with my Instagram picture as her screen saver. Quite frankly I don’t even know the chick. Alright, alright. No more jokes for the moment. To be honest, I am emotionally drained. I would eventually love to have someone to love, but I guess I’m just scared she won’t meet the standard established by the lady before her. I’m not trying to experience any more emotional trauma from discovering things that were triggered by misunderstood motives. I am no longe….

5:00am: Bo lu calazooom! Bo lu calazooom!

40,000 lux of blue light blasts in my face. It’s a part of my therapy. I have my devotion. I’m still confused. “She was too vivid. I couldn’t have been dreaming. I just couldn’t have.” I hop into the shower and begin my hydrotherapy. Scorching hot. Freezing cold. “Aghhh! Burrr!” Repeat. I hop out of the shower and proceed into my bedroom. It’s still dark outside. “So quite and peaceful.”

Buzzz. Text message from….

Just take it…

February 27, 2013 — 7 Comments

“God has declared your healing even before you were yet healed. He has already declared you victory over every habitual sin even before you experienced the victory.” –Earlene Dotson

When I read this passage I had two immediate emotional responses. At first, I was elated because I have recently experienced victory over an addiction I have been struggling with for years. I was unsure how I was ever going to get over this addiction, and I just figured that my victory would come in my latter years of life when my compulsions eventually faded or when I got married. My second emotional response to this passage was skepticism. It sounded good at first because I recently had an experience in which this passage was proven to be true; however, I couldn’t help but think about all of the other people who were still struggling with an addiction or those individuals who have died from their addiction. Did God neglect or forget to provide victory for these people?

I believe He has done neither of the two, but that’s easy for me to say seeing that I have recently experienced the victory enunciated in the passage above. So where is the help for those drowning in their addiction? Where is their saving grace? What about those who have already died due to an over-indulgence in their addiction? Why didn’t God stretch out His helping hand to them?

I am not God, but I can use what God has done for me as proof that he provides a way out. I had struggled with this addiction for years, and I did not see how I was going to get over it while I was still youthful. I would pray and pray for God to aid me in overcoming my addiction, but it just seemed as if He had turned His ear against me. So I stopped praying. Nothing changed. Finally, over this past summer and last semester I was faced with the most emotional and physical pain I have probably ever had to endure. While I was being tortured by these two forms of pain, I did not see why I was presented with this trial I had no control over. Like most people, I imagined God would reach down and gently take away my desire to continue indulging in this sin I had struggled with for so many years. After all I was/am His child, so He was obligated to be delicate with me. Right? As Christians, we are many times shown the loving and merciful side of God. We are conditioned to believe that all of the mediums God’s uses to save us will be pleasant to our bodies and our souls. When we are faced with a situation that literally shakes the foundations of life that we presently stand on we fold. A lot of the times we crumble under the pressure. Through cognitive distortions such as emotional reasoning, we run to harmful outlets seeking comfort and relief from our problems. We refuse to attribute any process that will seriously challenge us physically, mentally, or emotionally to God. We have become soft and fluffy, expecting our belief in God to disqualify us from pain.

I have found that pain can refine a person however. Pain is what instigated me to form rituals for my days prior to my victory: Wake up. Proceed to my car. Cry for an hour. Put my clothes on and pick out the facade I was going to wear for the day. Go to class. Come home and then cry for about another two to three hours. Attempt to study. Go to bed. Repeat. Pain is what coerced me to take part in harmful outlets in order to gain peace of mind. Pain has left it’s permanent signature all over my body. Pain has taken me to some of the most undesirable places. Pain almost caused me to stop…. This pain has also lead to receive victory over a sin that I have lost thousands of hours of my life to. This pain has set me free from the slavery of striving to satisfy other’s views and opinions of me. This pain has prodded me to share my experience with you, hoping that some of the words I say will potentially have an impact on your life. This pain has helped me to finally find something that I have been searching for my entire life…myself.

God used a very painful experience to set me free. Learn to embrace the trails you are faced with. They could be the tool God is using to refine you into the person you were always meant to be.

Blessings.

Extremist or Extremely Passionate?

February 24, 2013

My life, like many of yours, is composed of many intricacies unknown to others. I have been told that since I was born I’ve had to fight for life. I won’t reproduce to you a cliché story about my near death experience upon exiting the womb, but I will say that my impaired birth did lead me to have mild complications throughout my childhood. These complications would later cause me to sketch a skewed image of myself.

I was the fastest kid in my class for the majority of my elementary career. When I was in third grade, I was chosen to race against two of the other fastest kids in my elementary school. They were both older than me, so I was pretty nervous to race against them. The day finally came for us to race, and I placed last as I expected. I lost the race from close behind however. This probably would have been a great opportunity for me to feed my emaciated ego…if my classmates had not witnessed the raced. After seeing me run that day, my classmates would soon coerce me to play a game called cops and robbers in P.E class. It was simply tag with an embellished title. They were the cops. I was the robber.

“1. 2. 3. GO!” I began to sprint. Those with the duty of enforcing the law upon me were left in the dust. That only lasted for a couple of seconds however. I should have known better, but I wasn’t going to seem weak.”You are under arrest!” In a moment, I was being man handled by the majority of the girls and guys in my class. “Put your hands behind your back!” Crap. They got me. Silence. “Don’t try anything funny.” Almost there. Almost there. A couple minutes had passed, and they were getting too comfortable having me as their prisoner…. “He’s getting away!” I was gone, and they were anger. They would soon be pacified as they saw my sprint become a light jog then a feeble walk. “Don’t worry about it. We got him!” They handled me with even more force than before. Or maybe it was just the feeling of my body going into a sharp decline. “I bet you won’t try to run again!” Their grip on me was much tighter than first time, and I knew they wanted me to fuel the little adrenaline rushes I was giving them. “Don’t try anything stupid!” I silently gasp for air. “Haha, you won’t escape this time!” The wheezing became heavy. My symptoms were drowned out by their taunting. Enough. “N…N..Nooo. No your…your not going anywhere. S…STOP HIM!” My self-esteem would not be lowered as they surrounded me and instigated me to break free. The air I tried to breathe then stopped registering to my lungs. “Gotcha! I bet you won’t…are…ummm are you okay Bakari?’ Blackness. Stars. Pockets empty. No inhaler. “Give him space! Bakari! Bakari, breathe in and out into this paper bag. Your mother is coming with your inhaler. ” My first attack. They stood in awe. I felt weak. Never again.

8th grade…

“Okay, so your choices are Gatlinburg (Tennessee), Disney World, or St. Louis.” Bloody class trip. I knew swimming would be involved. I had formed a fancy for delicacies such as bread with humus or chips and salsa. They could no longer say I would blow away in the wind if a storm passed through. In fact, they said the opposite. “Wow, boy your putting on a little weight there.” “You used to be so skinny! What happened?” A nice little dynamite for my ego. There was not much to demolish though. I was only about fifteen pounds overweight, but in my head I became obese. I was already self-conscious, but now I had become a faithful slave to their opinion. “Don’t think about the burn, think about what you’re going to earn. Come on, push yourself!” My chest remained tight. My lungs continued to burn. I kept exercising.

Days…weeks…months…

A quarter mile became a half a mile. A half a mile became a mile. A mile became two miles. The scale began to register lower numbers. The comments began to lessen. I worked hard. I worked really hard. A daily two mile run became part of my religion. I ran for the relative that commented on my weight gain. I ran for the older cousin who was shocked to see me chubby after not seeing me for a few years. I ran for my haggard ego in hopes to feed it with the weight I lost.

Class trip was approaching…

School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Dang. You weren’t supposed to eat after six. Okay, run an extra two miles. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Oh shoot. You really pigged out tonight. But it’s Friday night. You know your mom won’t let you exercise. Proceed to the guest bathroom in the basement. Open the toilet lid. Fingers ready? Okay, stick em’ in and shove em’ down. Gag reflex. Try again. Chokes. Try harder. That’s good, but you know you really messed up tonight. You need to bring up some more. Just stick them down fast. Don’t think about it. AWYKXGTHKR!!! Okay cool. Now clean up this mess before your mom sees this. A few days pass. I messed up again. Repeat.

I cherish these memories, and I have recently made some more. These days, however, the question just rings in my head, “Extremist or extremely passionate? Extremist or extremely passionate?”

A time comes when one must free himself from the views and opinions of others in order to live. Act accordingly.

I Need You

January 16, 2013

Disclaimer: This entry was not written to point the finger at anyone. We are all in the struggle together.

Society has conditioned us to become dependent on things. I can’t express to you the frustration I feel when I go out and realize I left my phone at home or when there is a problem with the wi-fi in my house and I cannot access the Internet. I remember in April of 2011 when a tornado struck parts of my state causing the power to go out in the area I lived in. When the tornado struck I can remember asking some of my friends what they planned to do since the power was going to be out for a couple days. Most of them simply replied, “leave.” A few of them went to Tennessee, and I think one of them even went to Disney World. There was no way they were going to stay in an area where they could not cook, wash, or be stimulated by electronics for a few days. I figured it would be impossible for me to do any of this as well, so I asked my mom if we could go somewhere until the power was restored. I’m not sure if it was because I was so desperate to leave, but I was shocked to hear her say no.

For the next few days, we lived like cavemen. We lit a fire to warm up our food and used flashlights to take showers at night. I would have to sneak in my mom’s car to charge my phone. Since the alarm systems were down, and there was no light at nights, our district had curfew of 9 o’ clock. For the duration of those few days, it felt as if the world was coming to an end. I felt like knights on horses with lances would eventually come running through my neighborhood. It then struck me how dependent I had become modern conveniences. I also found this to be true for my relationships.

I was introduced to my first relationship in high school. I never did obtain the disposition to be a player, and I really enjoyed the consistency and convenience a relationship offered. So I would often times find myself becoming dependent on the person I talked to. If I was having a rough morning I would try to get to school a couple minutes early so she could “cheer me up”. Or if I was bored Saturday night she was “always” available to hang out. The more I fed into these kinds of thought patterns, the more dependent I became on her and she on me. We needed each other. To solidify the security we got from each other, we would spit empty promises back and forth saying, ” I would never do anything to hurt you” or “I will never leave you”. Being imperfect beings, however, one of us would happen to break our promise. Then we would be left broken and with the misbelief that “I need you.”

If you thought I was going on to say, “this is not true however” you’re wrong. Although this repeated fallacy is not true, sometimes it takes more just telling yourself that. Lately, I have been doing a lot of reading a lot on how negatively the misbeliefs we have adopted all our lives can affect us. The book I was reading describes the triad cycle of misbeliefs. First we devalue our self: “Even when I give it my all, I’m always a failure when it comes to relationships.” Then we devalue the situation: “I think this is it. Now I’m really messed up.” Then we devalue prospects for the future: “Yea, I’ll probably be single for a very long time.” Through this negative self-talk, we being to ensteel these misbeliefs, and soon enough they become realities. It’s hard to feed our minds positive yet real thoughts when we have been severely hurt. The object is not to ignore the situation and pretend as if everything is okay. It is to be honest about our emotions while being real about the situation. “Although this experience feels quite depressing at times, I will not die from the emotional pain. Time will soften even the strongest emotions.”

Examine the misbeliefs your have held all you life. Be careful about repeating them to yourself because in time your words may become a reality…

I Have A Funeral To Attend…

January 13, 2013

Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and opinions. Figurative language is used.

Most people have experienced the sting of death to some extent. It have may ranged from the death of a well known church member to the death of a parent/guardian. In both cases, however, the deceased person is no longer living. Their influence on the world and others no longer exists. Their words cease to exist, and people can only hold onto what they once said. Their presence is no longer felt by others, and they are no longer seen.

So I have a funeral to attend…

A couple years ago, one of my immediate family members passed away. This was the only “death” of a person close to my heart that I had experienced at the time. I was unsure how to handle death. I didn’t know how to treat it. The sting of death constantly visited me in the months that followed, yet as time passed, something was revealed to me. Death was painful because it permanently robbed the senses of the family and friends closest to that person. When someone died they couldn’t be seen, touched, smelled, tasted, or heard without the use of an artificial medium. With modern technology, a person can look at pictures of the deceased or even hear and see them via recorded video footage. However, nothing is better than having the ability to experience that loved one in real life.

Please wear all black clothing.

I have learned there is something potentially worst than death. After a while, the absence of a loved one will inevitably have a numbing effect on one’s emotions. The inability to experience that person will soon soften the sting death has caused. Tears of sorrow will eventually be harder to come by due to the lack of reality the dead has to offer. They offer none because they are dead. What if that person were dead but still alive however? How is this possible?

Imagine coming home from school one day, and the mother that loved and cared for you for thirteen years of your life completely stopped having interest in you. Like a switch turned off in her head and all the emotions and concern she once had for you completely vanished. She maintained the same body, but she was a totally different person. Although she could speak to you and you could tell her your name, her love for you was nonexistent. You being to cry and weep because you miss your mom. She stares at you with a blank expression because all this is foreign to her. You beg for her to stop playing, hoping that she will break out in laughter and say, “I’m just joking!” That never happens. Each day you wake up and are visually reminded of your mother. She sounds and smells exactly the same as your mother. Her warm embrace feels how your mother’s would feel, yet you are again reminded that she is not your mother. She will never be. You will never be able to speak to your mother again as long as you live although you see her everyday. For the rest of your life, her figure will taunt you. But you know it’s not her…and you will just have to try to figure out some way to live in peace knowing that. I’d rather hold onto the memories my mother left with me before she entered the grave.

Excuse me though. I have arrived at the funeral, and your prayers will gladly be accepted.