Saturday, March 22, 2014

Revolution and dreams

I am currently fighting a Upper respiratory tract infection which needless to say is whooping my whole ass. I have been locked up in a room in bed, drinking all kinds of fluids, taking all kinds of meds, and sleeping like I never have or get to. In the fever breaks and coughing breaks where deep sleep finds me I get to wander where my mind wants to go and I was surprised with all the werewolf shows I have been watching and/or vampires, I would not dream about such monsters but instead the real kind… I saw myself in a group of people in a school lobby somewhere in the south, I saw myself amongst various other people of their own respective backgrounds, ages, and life experience. This one teacher, a pudgy short white lady with a charming accent and disposition was trying to paint a picture of what slavery might have looked like at this time in this particular area. She started to spew false information with a matter of fact tone in which case those present who did not know any better would have no choice but to take her word for it, had they not educated themselves about the very subject at hand. I saw some nodding taking in her information, I saw others who maybe knew better sink back into themselves too afraid or jaded to say a thing. I immediately got irate and defensive and demanded she tell the truth which was not as cookie cutter as she made it seem, and I began to try to rally other people there with obvious African descent written in their features to remember and or join in my indignation. Surely they had to know what the past really was.. some idea of the struggles of the captives coined "slaves" in our land…? Yet only one maybe two of the group stood with me and I quickly took their hands we began to hold hands, form a small circle and sing old spirituals I never heard or even knew prior to that moment, and those spirituals turned into songs of a native tongue we had not knew before either and I began to see the obvious discomfort of the Guide or teacher whose presentation and group was being disturbed and taken over… The school lobby we were standing in started to dissolve like dirt wiped away by water, and I was no longer in a group of people of a modern time listening to some woman describe she read about I was instead in a compound of "captives" and running with a group away from some impending doom. I saw people living in squander, people just like me. I saw people quickly marking territories amongst themselves with invisible lines in the dirt, in fear of being ripped away form a home they would never see again and gathering their own people as close as they could to preserve a feeling of home or familiarity in this strange new land. They held fast to those who spoke their language and might be from a region they lived close too. They saw themselves as different than there neighbor who with obvious similarities in perhaps countenance and or spirituality was still a "stranger". I was taken to a place where white missionaries instructed the captives on how to praise and act with in a "church" setting and get beat for dancing too enthusiastically. I saw drums and gourds which would normally be played by us for almost every important circumstance tossed into a pile and burned as we were told we have no use of such primitive instruments. I was taken to a small would-be apartment I would coin a "slum" where young women of various ages were fighting off disease and or the after effects of having their body used beyond that which can be taken in an intimate manner, their choices stripped from them and their body used against them as they relinquished control to those that were in a position to take.. I saw amongst them glowing figures in white, head ties and gels wraps, white garbs and walking sticks tending to them, healing, trying to reach out to them some how… and I knew these were the old Gods… these were the present energies of the people that in strife were abandoned and yet they sought to help whether or not they were recognized for it or called upon anymore… I awoke and I could not believe I just had such a vivid dream, why this I asked myself? What meaning? I can't help but wonder was it a call to reach out to the community and tell them to not be fooled about what was instructed, circumstance does not define you or re-define you… The old ways and deities, never left you and calling them new things like Jesus or Holy Ghost was but a way to access them but there were other ways.. they are still tending to you and around you. That the invisible lines drawn in the sand to preserve who and what you were was a defense mechanism that pushed others like yourself away in place where you were all viewed the same? Perhaps, history was being told in such a way as to wash and water down the actuality that would perhaps lead you to understand the struggles still present in a land and system set up not for you or your descendants? Im going to sit and meditate with this dream and hope to see people together, recognizing the past and using it as fuel to push and move forward.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Eggun/Ancestor Testimony

I cannot help but wonder if Oya Iyansan (iyasoron) aka mother of nine, in her breif embrace decided to bring the most necessary changes and I long awaited. Its not that I am unmotivated, but more that I cannot formulate a proper plan as to where to start and in which direction. I have many things I want to do, know, experience, find, attain ect... the list will go on because with growth things will change and new hungers may arise while others fade.
I attended a drumming with an amazing group of people of the Ile Ifabemi whom I call family to some degree as I see in them exactly what I hope to encounter in my spiritual community. This weekend past they had played a drumming of praise and honor to Oya.
Oya whose name means "to rip and to tear". This refers to her twisting, tearing and braiding of textiles and weaving on a specific loom, yet it also refers to her ability to unearth even the roots of mighty trees to either make way for new life or to bring to the surface that which needs to reach there. She is also called Iyaloja, "mother of the market" in which she represents the exchange of commerce, or position in the market place. From consumer to owner, transition in all areas of life. Our first breath of life outside of the water filled womb and our last exhaled breath as we pass to the realm of the spirits.
She is associated with Eggun, nine specifically believed to be Abiku and her children.(Abiku-spirits sent to incarnate as children sent for a short stint on earth/aye) Eggun or Spirits of the deceased family who walked this earth breifly or breathed the this air if only for a bit. She connects us to our ancestry by way of knowing their presence and accepting them following us for our aid and guidance. We acknowledge that from whence we came so we have a hopeful idea as to where we are going.
Well for years I have not known who to talk to about my Grandparents origins since the stories vary and range from all over the place. I got bits and pieces and regretted not being old enough or mature enough to ask more of my Grandparents origins,history, and experiences. They have passed excpet one Grand father on my mothers side and I am not sure I can trust too much of what he says at this point in his age.
So this morning a woman I consult for occassionally contacts me, askign me my blessing for her and her family which of course I give. We start talking geneology out of the blue and out of no where she ask me a name o two and has given me information regarding my great grandparents I didnt know. She procedds to tell me of no charge, since its her hobby, she will research for me some things to aid in my knowledge of my family origin and roots.
I cannot help but thing this was a much needed change in my life. Something unearthed for my benefit. Maferefun Oya/Praise Oya.
Then me and my partner last night sit down and have a couple of hours worth of conversation much needed and different than are usual banter. We came up with a plan in which to better organize our things and reap the benefits of a surplus.
All this after one weekend of dedication and praise and I never asked for this so its beautiful to know your unspoken wishes and prayers are still heard and granted.

Monday, August 15, 2011

It has certainly been a while

I am living life the best way I know how. Going with the flow. Its hard sometimes, as debris and obstacles make themselves ever so present. Although I may get dammed up sometimes and tension builds, I know that the current of my hopes and faith keep me going and I just simply have to change my course and flow another way either over and through my obstacles or around them. I am learning more and more to be like the river, I am of the river.
The continuous learning process of life is never ending, and destiny has called me to a tradition that has way too much to learn. I am simply doing my personal best to learn all I can in order to help teach, heal, share, pass on, and preserve. The dangers of the trans Atlantic slave/ Maffa and that oppressive force is still present just in an even more dangerous way. Ignorance and misconceptions surround our very practice and even our minds, to those that are and are not priest. I walk a fine line, thin and narrow road and I have to stay focused and determined to see that my destiny is completed. That I answer the call.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

My poem to my mother

Regal coco Queen
As you sit atop the drum
Rhythmic beats in time with the earths rotation
Reminiscent of the sun
You bring me back with the gyrating swivel in your hips
The taste of sweet honey in the plumpness of your lips
Your voice is power, your essence wise
Mother Afrika adorns you never to be disguised
Proud and Beautiful the river runs deep
Flows from ancestors past to futures dawn
Many ideas, art forms appear as fishes spawn
Responsible for knowledge intuition in its raw
we all praise the mother, for this is what we were birthed for.
Yellow and Gold's as you reflect our joy
Blessed are your children every girl and every boy
Bells ring and resonate in your laughter
As you descend upon us smiling from your heavenly rafters
I ask you to deny me bitterness that I may emulate your ways
That I may be calm, cool, collect and always the right things say
Reflective is your presence as I look deep inside
In your arms, my head to your breast my heart confesses and confides
Grateful to be your vessel and your loving son
Always open to learn and work until my time here is done.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Beauty of my people

I would like to say although a lot of my writings and work tends to focus on my people of color and their traditions ( as I do embrace Africa in all I do) I am pro PEOPLE period. I love people, I love our diversity and similarities. I celebrate it all.

This poem states the weekend's experience I had at a drumming celebrating a rebirth of someone who is now called Iyawo. Someone who went through the same beautiful life changing experience I did last April, Kari Ocha. A drumming celebrating the birth of an Agallu from an Agallu.

I felt you long before I walked into the house
I felt your rhythms and beats long before the sound of your drums reached my ears
Terrestrial and yet heavenly
My body reacts moving and swaying and toes tapping as hands clapped,
these movements and these melodies ancient and long danced by many others who came before me
A space full of beautiful shades of brown, caramels, blacks and tans
I smell elements, I smell power, I smell culture I taste remembrance and savor victory
My people together in once space reconnecting to the Mother we call Africa
Many roots branching out form one sacred tree and we all reach for the sun naturally as we reach for the divine
The plant reaches for the sun as God works through it in the form or photosynthesis
We channel nature unwillingly and yet so naturally involuntary
I see you Sister in your Blue head wrap, garb speaking of your royalty set against the rich tones of your skin. Yemaya proudly in your midst
Beautiful Daughter of Ochun I see your beauty shining as legendary as that of your Divine Mother
Strong Daughter of Oya who can hold you or your wise words back? You flow through us reminding us their is strength to be claimed and honored.
Sons and Daughters of Chango pride and ferocity clear the way as you exemplify sovereignty and Majesty. We originate form Kings and Queens Indeed.
My people beautiful and different like the many creations of that whom we call God or Goddess. Like the many colored fish, birds, and flowers
Gods creations effortlessly wonderful, Beauty of my People

Sunday, January 23, 2011


We talked Motherlands, we talked powerful culture rich continent. Afrika the beginning of us all. We find hidden truths and discuss our connections and want for unification and upliftment of ourselves and others. Descendants of kings and queens, shamans and spiritual workers, dancers and hunters.
We eat at the table of Caridad, sharing meals and speaking our hearts content. Sharing our experiences, our past lives, our future goals and hopes.
The tone is set, the way prepared walking on air as if to laugh in the face of gravity, following a trail of rose petals that only we can see.
A home, rich with our peoples culture, wooden mask and drums, red, blacks, reds yellow. Powerful colors that mean so much more to me and him than most. Simple kisses lead to heavy breathing and accelerated heart beats.
Mutual large hands roaming each others body, firm members pressed to each other in an embrace that feels like a perfect melding of the elements. The heat of fire, the rush of air the earth rocking beneath us, the water washing over us in passionate waves. Trying to contain myself, but unwilling to bar the gates to my temple. I open up the gates or should I say I surrender the key. Enter! I call, body language reverberating and echoing an unspoken desire that sets the room a flame. Slipping in and out of worlds, on Polynesian shores, black sandy beaches, fragrant gardens, and refreshing lagoons. I look into the eyes above me, intense stare and genuine want to please and experience... me. I accept you Esus, you accept me Maeve. I feel us moving in rhythm, harsh and meaningful drum beats as our ancestors infuse our bodies. Moving with gyrating hips, performing a dance that is ageless. Barefoot and in touch, dreads falling ever so against my bare chest. Kisses soft, succulent, and masculine driving me wild, driving into me. I call out, names of those who came before me, I call out in tongues I do not recognize. We sleep, we weep. Healed in the process we hold each other and we lie sweat bound letting the feelings subside after the eruption that is orgasm. God was praised this time, Goddess gave birth.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Its been a while

So life has completely changed around for me. I have met wonderful people some new some old, its like I am seeing life through brand new eyes. Yes there are still enough trace elements of DAVID but I don't feel the same nor do I identify with the David pre April 2010.

I began to get familiar with my father in my spiritual path. Chango/Shango he who hurls lightning, he who illuminates the darkest of night and shows you things as they are. He who represents the spark of life, the passion to live and experience and enjoy. One cant do that if they don't see things as they are.
Chango has made me face every uncomfortable situation this year I could possibly think of and a few I wouldn't have even attempted to think of. I got to see in his example that a man with ambition, with a knowledge of his self worth can attain a higher place mentally, spiritually and even physically.
I found myself single this year, way more contemplative than ever and through all the traps and not so nice stuff thrown in my way, I am strangely content with life as a whole. I recite and replay Rachelle Ferrell's Satisfied over and over in my head, because I am.
Through sacrifice and the investing into the one person that you have to face the rest of your life, YOU. You can attain a beautiful place in solitude, peace in your spirit and a pep in your step.
Until next time folks... Muah