Hands Up!

I have closed my eyes. Hands up high, lifted. Oxygen filling my brain, I am light.
I am scared, I am just a boy, life is new to me, I still get to fuck up don't I?

He said these words to me in a dream. Michael did.  

They spoke to me, all of them, a choir of Black men. Their bodies like that of a resurrected Jesus. Holes in hands and feet, hearts and head, so like Thomas, I would know, no doubts. I fell beside them, touched their beautiful brown skin, felt their battle wounds. Their eyes were an elegant darkness, light taken from them like an eclipse.

I tried to speak to them, but only the new ones still knew my language. I wanted to talk to Oscar, but he'd just lost his voice, the memory of his daughter a distant echo. I was so happy to see Michael though, He was glorious! strong, elegant. He was clothed in a white gown and had crystal eyes, a crown adorned his head. This, a far cry from his cement grave. We spoke, his voice mild and deep and warm and smart. I asked him about the cigarettes, He answered, "I thought I got to fuck up. Don't 17 year old's get to fuck up?" I smiled, I said "not if they're clothed in night's skin." He sighed, We wept. I kissed his cheek, it was as ice. I said I wish to see you again
, hopefully we are older and wiser then. I left him alone.

Trayvon spotted me! I ran to him, he ran to me, the rainbow followed closely behind him. Here, he was the bearer of Noah's covenant. God promised the same to him when they met. God said, "I will never destroy you with water again, you shall never need to walk hooded, the steps before you are dry and safe." His rainbow! It is beautiful, majestic. I could tell his voice was growing faint. I knew it would be the last time we spoke so I hung on every word. He told me that he loved his rainbow, it redeemed him. See, he had lost faith in rainbows because he carried a bag of them the night his light was stolen. But he remembered God's words, the covenant she made him, no more water. With that, as was our custom, we parted ways in a loving embrace.

I dreamed of them, all of them. They spoke to me. They waved at me. They asked me to greet their families for them, tell their children they love them. They prayed blessings over me in many tongues, asking for safety. They loved me but they didn't want me as a resident just yet. I left, their hands were up, sending me off like a dove looking for an olive branch.

The narrative continues

Emotions are high as a result of the Martin ruling. I cannot say I am surprised, however I don't want that to excuse how very angry I feel. Their are so many things I can respond too, the fact that people pretend that race relations in this country are good, when statistics surrounding everything from wealth, incarceration practices, hiring practices, stop and frisk practices etc,  affect Black and Brown negatively at disproportionate levels. The issue is that people don't care about facts, people don't want to see the big picture. We only care about how we feel and surround ourselves with people who affirm our fears.

I have read  so many peoples response, and though I am touched by how many people support Trayvon and his family and their black friends who are hurting right now, I have also seen quite a bit of ugliness and apathy. Numerous tweets reducing Trayvon Martin to a deserving "nigger." Posts from well intentioned people saying that the justice system did what it was designed to do, failing to realize that the system was designed to be racist (amongst other things), and continues to be. It is scary at how racially polarizing the case has made things, and in my research most of the discourse reflects Black people irritated at the racist system, while White people who have aligned to a negative racial narrative, convey a sentiment that attack Black people and their feelings as merely irrational and a disengagement of the facts. It does not seem to me that race isn't beginning to not matter, I'm not seeing this post racial America, I'm not seeing this "better" my generation talks about.

Many of my more godly friends have released beautiful responses to the case. Calling for support for the Martin and Zimmerman families because as humans they are deserving of dignity. In theory I absolutely agree, but I am not there yet. Though I do not wish harm to come to Zimmerman, I do not wish him well. I don't want him to have a life filled with happiness, especially as long as he is unrepentant. I want to say that I feel love for him, but I do not. This case was more than Trayvon and Zimmerman, it was a glimmer of hope that the narrative wouldn't continue.

In my short life and within range of my lifetime, many things have transpired that continued the narrative. The response to the O.J. Simpson which was highly racially polarized. The Rodney King beating which ultimately led to the rather destructive Los Angeles Riots. The James Byrd Jr. incident in Texas, where a black man war chained to the back of a truck and dragged and decapitated (1998). The Michael Donald lynching in Alabama (1981). The racially motivated killings of Michael Griffith, Willie Turks, and Yusuf Hawkins in New York in the 80's. The Amadou Diallo shooting in 1999. The Jena Six. Recently Jordan Davis whose case is a lot like Trayvon Martin's(2012) etc. These stories and many others have continued the narrative. I fear sometimes for my life, I fear for other black boy's lives, because they are often being targeted for nothing more than active pigmentation.

Right now I don't have very much hope. I am just waiting for the day where the narrative stops, the book is finished, closed, shelved with honor, but is nothing more than a resource.

Random Insomiac thoughts

I often have a hard time sleeping in new places. This is super annoying, I have the hardest time giving in to my bodies need for rest. I though am who I am now in this moment, so I give thanks. In the last 51/2 years I have been in university, in those years if I have learned anything, it is that all things change, evolve, nothing stays the same, we move, grow, mature. Yesterday I realized the paradox that we are living and dying at the same time! This really makes me want to put things in better perspective.
    I waste so much breath and energy on insigificant crap. I worry about stuff that is trivial, I obsess about things that are miniscule. I wish all I thought, said, and did were only the most thoughtful and meaningful.Yet I still fall victim to self obsession, worried only about my goodwill. In my sleep deprivated state I write unclearly yet I dont care because my journal is far away. Sometimes I wish I could tell the world to shut the f%*k up, stop talking, stop making noise, listen, listen, quiet, listen. I get quite iritated because my life is so loud and I the numero uno decible creator.Sometimes I wish time didn't move because I then wouldn't mourn moments behind, missed. I don't live in the moment because my intuition permits only anxiousness about the future. Carpe diem, I wish, yet days can't be seized, as if taken and frozen still. Life is only life in movement. So I am forced to learn stillness in movement, centering myself yet, water flows, cars pass, people walk.
"Nobody told me the road would be easy," aint it so. I wish someone would have lied to me, I see the the decieved everyday bitch at incorrect starbucks orders daily. I want to be one of those people, who truly believe that all in life is controlled by them and nothing left to chance or other people.
    As I yawn, I guess life is truly important because its always moving and we get to move along with it. We don't control much of anything in life because ultimately days aren't promised. I look excitingly towards the day when life doesn't feel like death, but like moments moving for me, with me, in me.

Jibberish

I'm not known for coherence, so I will just do what I'm good at. Babbling. I am not at all sure about the point of having a blog that I post on once every blue moon, but yet I'm grateful that I get to shoot my voice out into cyberspace even if I am the only one to see it. As I think about the next phases of my life, I am constantly irritated by the seemingly always transitional nature of life. Doesn't life ever stay STILL! I feel even now in the midst of returning from a 6 week long urban project, ( which I feel I should be used to since it was the 3rd time. NO SUCH LUCK) My life feels as if it's moving without me, Its almost as if I'm walking backwards on one of those movable floor things they have at airports, but I'm moving backwards but not fast enough to reach my starting place, but not slow enough to reach my destination, Its like limbo. Have you ever been in a crowded room everyone is screaming, conversing, faded, yet you're in the middle of the room standing seemingly unnoticed and watching life in a blur happen as you fade into your red cup. Yes, No, Ha well that's what  life at moment feels like. I'm not quite motivated to revisit the past 6 weeks, I go to Starbucks and start a journal entry about my experience and how awesomely moving, draining and exhausting it was, but the mere thought of writing about exhaustion exhausts me, so I don' t end up writing very much and put it off till the next time. But as each time pasts memories begin to fade, I begin to see the experience through the lens of my life here in Bakersfield and I become immediately lost in translation. Fresno becomes Spanish and Bakersfield becomes French, two languages I can on a very limited level understand but yet passionately want to fluently learn. God has now become my very slow translator in both of these places. I have been refusing to speak with my interpreter, mainly because I feel as if the process is going to be to time consuming and emotionally draining. Yet, that is not helpful because I still don't know the language. A friend of mine this summer explained to me what my name meant which was also the meaning of her name, which is Victory. Consequently the name of my blog is "Victory in Arabia" which I like to look at as "Victory in the Desert" I think this is profound. I say this because I have found myself in this past year especially, lost in a desert spiritually, emotionally, psychologically etc. I don't very much mind these deserts. Its in the desert I feel that we really, really begin to understand our needs VS our wants. When one is lost in the desert it becomes a question of what do i need to survive? and not how can I make this journey more comfortable?  I have therefore learned (among many things) this summer some of the things I need to survive  in the desert and to be grateful for them. I have also learned that carrying extra things that seem to add convenience will only become an inconvenience in the heat of the desert, so those things need to be shed, most often with an experience of lamentation. 

                                                          " La Grand Laveuse" Auguste Renoir

I was walking with Jesus today. I asked Jesus, "what do you see among the neighborhood? A place filled with people broken in all ways. People who seemingly live with no dignity, and as some see it; leeches of the system, draining it of its precious resources. What do you see Jesus? Among fathers who leave their sons, husbands who beat their wives, liars, cheats, thieves, prostitutes, gangs. Jesus turns his head and says, " I see me."

L.L.

WOW

OK so its been a very Blog Neglectful year. My last post was over a year ago. I'm going to try this again even if I'm talking to myself. It has been a rather interesting year, I of course am not going to waste my time recapping every detail so I'll probably find a poetic way get the jist across so. But I have had a brilliant year, full of excitement, confusion, new horizons, old skeletons and new problems.  I think however, that I am much more idealist and optimistic then I ever have been so yah.

here is a little jump off to sleep on

I fall.
Canyons run dry
i hit bedrock it is my own creation.

Masochism- LKL

On The Short tale of the Sun

Its going on three weeks of Christmas break it has been uneventful, but yet I have done allot of stuff. From getting my drivers licence, to semi- helping in a campaign, to getting my hair locked, I will be recording myself as well. Yup uneventful but stuff at the same time. I think it seems uneventful because none of my friends are here.I am loving the adventure though. This next poem is weird but so am I, so yeah.

On the short tale of the sun, peace rides its rays

Joy illuminates its shine

God smiles through.

Heat, the Love of God butters my soul

Kisses my spirit, stills my essence, bakes my existence.

Dries my sin, dehydrates my iniquity.

On the short tale of the sun I climb the core

Scorched my understanding, scalded my wisdom

No water dare touch its skin

It evaporates the deepest ocean

And melts the densest glacier

My heart is overflowing with water my body rising in temperature

Spiritual warming of epic proportion

This is not propaganda

This is no inconvenient truth

This is my God, my fire

No Brimstone

My peace No misunderstanding

My joy no Sorrow

My Life, Death hunts itself

On the short tale of the Sun I ride I ride I ride

- Lawrence