The Waiting Place

The Waiting Place

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race

Down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…

For people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go

Or the mail to come, or the rain to go

Or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

Or waiting around for a Yes or No

Or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite

Or waiting for wind to fly a kite

Or waiting around for Friday night

Or waiting, perhaps for their Uncle Jake

Or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants

Or a wig with curls, or Another Chance

Everyone is just waiting.

NO!

That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying.

You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high!

Ready for anything under the sky.

Ready because you’re that kind of guy!

                                                                          -“Oh, the Places You’ll Go”

                                                                                   -Dr. Seuss

     

I owe so much to works of literature. I have always been inspired and elicited to read; to open my eyes and see the world through books. Some people label it as a hobby, some as mandatory but for me it is not only a compulsion but a necessity to me as a woman, as a person, as a student of the world. I am 25 years old and I can proudly say that one of my favorite authors is Dr. Seuss. Still to this day I am entertained and inspired by his work. My late Uncle Ted contributed to my literacy history. He gave me the entire collection of Dr. Seuss when I was 3 years old. He would always send poems and passages in the mail—surprising me and making me feel so worthy and valuable—through our shared passion for reading and words.

The aforementioned selection is a passage from “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”. I got plentiful gifts for my 2005 high school graduation—money, cards, clothes, etc but not one seemed to touch and stick with me then this book given by my Uncle Ted. One would normally scoff at such present but I could have not been more grateful or appreciative. I carried this book with me through my whole college career, always referring back to it when everything in my life was noisy and disheartening. The colors, the humor, the kooky advice always eased the demanding expectations and filtered assumptions surrounding my life

I got validation of just how golden these words were when I heard this in a speech given during my college graduation. I giggled with tears of joy as humbleness seemed to engulf me. I felt like the only person in that stadium listening to the speech because I knew that my love for Dr. Seuss and the investment that my Uncle put into me was not in vain. Two months later, my Uncle unexpectedly passed away but my heart was swollen with thanks because I knew that graduation moment was a moment meant for only him and I to have and only we would understand.

Xoxo,

@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

To Taboo or Not To Taboo..?

To Taboo or Not To Taboo…

that is the question for 2013

I have heard the word “taboo” in many discussions and conversations. It has always been given a negative reputation, never spoken with admiration. An automatic mental imprint is put into motion to stay away from anything or anyone associated with “taboo”—like the boogeyman and the Kool-Aid he’s trying to pass out.

What does “taboo” mean? I put one of my phone apps to the test and researched the word. “Taboo”…searching. I was amazed at just how defined this five letter was and the different ways it was used.

“Prohibited! Banned! Forbidden!” It was living up to its negative prestige. I read on.  “Proscribed by society as improper or unacceptable. To ostracize; exclusion from social relations.”  The boogeyman!

I began to get discouraged with my topic of choice. None of the aforementioned definitions were going to help the point I wanted to make. Yet I researched on and there at the very bottom, I saw it. Hidden under all the weight of the layered negativity was the short but powerful definition that relinquished all I had read.

“To be separated or set apart as sacred.” Sacred! I now had the evidence I needed to support my writing—this particular piece of work.  

Unbeknownst to me I had actually gathered more material by the actual researching than the research its self. Out of all the vocabulary and definitions there was only one simple sentence that contradicted all the rest. I pondered the question: “Should taboo be looked down upon or should it be celebrated?”

It is clearly a rhetorical question because the answer isn’t written down in any book—the definitions yes, but not the answer. The reason is because taboos change everywhere, among different nations, religions, and people. There really is no “taboo police” patrolling, waiting to arrest.

          

        Every society has some history of detaching its self from things that are not of the norm. Fashion, sexual orientation, religious practices are among the most popular; skin color being one of the most notorious. The present world likes the idea of universal respect—which in my opinion has gotten better over time. One senses a more welcoming spirit than the rationed one of the past. Need not forget we do have a black family in the White House living out their second term.

          

       Yet what of the taboo against things that do not meet the eye? Such as one’s mentality, spirit, intention and heart? What of the taboos we associate with the engraved standards of one’s culture or hand me down perception? What of that? Again a rhetorical question but still a question in need of reflection. A reflection of the self that no one can provide but self.

          

       2012 is counting down to its demise so the birth of 2013 can be displayed. Traditionally, every year there will be countless and yes at times, outrageous but hopeful New Year’s resolutions. They are declared into the universe at the stroke of midnight! And if you’re human, 9 times out of 10, those once bright resolutions will lose their buoyancy in the rush of everyday life. Never intended, just a fact of life. Like the legendary bumper sticker reminds us as we run late to work: “S**t happens”.

          

       Therefore to ease the pain of neglect to a numbered list of things to accomplish, I decided to go down a different route: a declaration to the improvement and upgrade of my mentality. In essence, it is the power source, so I have every right and obligation to make sure it’s at its best for my best intentions. A King once said, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste”.

          

       For 2013, I plan to stop waiting for my life to start but begin living. So many times I look past my present moment because in some way or another it doesn’t live up to my preconceived expectations. Refrain from waiting for the spotlight to find me when it’s done with another but instead go and make my own --just for me.

         

        Be dedicated toward giving my all even if I ‘am the only one present to witness it because it shows the respect I have to the potential I possess. Devoted to live with an open heart that is mature from learning from past mistakes instead of being bitter. To acquire wisdom from my failure and not become harden due to shame and fear.

         

        To believe in my divinity and be humble with everyday I ‘am given. To smile even if there is no sun and dance with grace even if there is no music playing. To give myself room for error because of my faith in everything happening for a reason—knowing my life can only be lived once, by me and me alone.

          

        So if all of my expectations or guidelines for 2013 stray me away from assimilation, from what is deemed as “acceptable” or “normal”—so be it. I will gladly take the title of “taboo” because it will be a reminder that I kept my promise to myself.

Happy New Year!!!

“I am acquainted with all but connected to none. I am a misfit.”

-Bishop T.D. Jakes

xoxo,

@BMynroe

 RaChelle-Denise McKinney

                

Noisy

Noisy

-Tuesday, December 4, 2012. 10:19 p.m.-

Life can become so hectic, loud and annoying.

Tank is on empty, bills piling up—along with the amount its showing.

The demands of others, the fast pace of the world…

Can all ignore one starving little girl.

Or the war veteran—whom fought the most evil of evil,

Only to live on streets, neighbor to roaches, ants and beetles.

The mother that cries every night because she can’t feed her babies.

Ignoring the wise, worthy old man who’s ill and dying just because his insurance is “not covered”, written off as shady.

Ignoring the teachers that spiritually fight everyday just to calm and reach one child.

The grandmother who has paid her dues but is raising their child’s child as she runs wild.

The men who are head of their families but can no longer provide for their families.

Ignoring how there are less and less high school graduates yet more younger causalities.

Oh yes!

The world is hectic, loud and annoying.

The question is how much do we imagine and just how much are we ignoring?

 -@BMynroe (RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

I Cry

I Cry

-This poem was written on Wednesday- November 21, 2012. 6:25 p.m.-

I cry because I am happy and I cry because I am sad.

I cry for the bright future that’s ahead of me.

I cry because of the bitter fights I have had.

I cry because there’s healing,

I cry because there’s pain.

I cry for the past of mistakes I’ve let go.

I cry for the failures I will gain.

A life that’s full of emotion, in a world filling the image of “perfection” in our souls.

I cry.

I cry. I cry. I cry.

Tears have become my best friend.

They’re too familiar with this face.

Sharing legends with their seeds seed in preparation for taking their valued place.

I’ve become angry with my tears because they can be so strong!

Too strong to hold back.

Yet, how I love them.

For they console me in my loneliest and lowest time,

When everyone else has walked away.

How it knows my true heart,

How it hurts, how it breaks.

They know what my weaknesses are

And the weight that my shoulders take.

No one will ever know but my tears.

So—I cry.

I cry. I cry. I cry.

The tears know what my happiness is.

They know what makes my heart soar.

They know how my faith and hope keep me craving for life, more and more.

They know my peace.

They’ve witnessed my grace!

My tears have shown themselves proud in a victory disguised as a defeat.

My tears stand by me, never to be ashamed of their long-standing term.

My tears are loyal to me.

So yes---I cry.

I’ve cried. I cry. I’ll cry.

xoxo,

@BMynroe

RaChelle-Denise McKinney 

Days Like This

Days Like This

The last time that I blogged was in September 2012 and although I have been compelled to post new material—I’ve started on numerous topics, today I felt a responsibility to myself, to my feelings to post on the tragedies of today. Procrastination has no power on this day.

The tragedy I speak of is that of the Sandy Hook Elementary Massacre and the shooting of two Memphis police officers leading to one fatality. Please keep in mind that this is not a news blog. This is a blog of my own feelings and emotions so I wish not to be held accountable for my flawed “creative journalism”.

Such pain has filled this day but it is following a pattern that I see growing at an increasing and devastating rate. Murder, fires, and shootings have been greeting me every morning on the news as I leave the house to venture off into my day. It has sadly become a morning routine of mine but most disturbing -- expected.

I believe that the final blow that made me take this to heart, shed tears, pray for peace---see an instant glimpse of hopelessness , was the unnecessary killing of students, babies in my eyes.

I am a substitute teacher. I’ve built great rapport in the grades of Pre K- 8^th  in three surrounding cities. I have made a name for myself in the teaching industry, which I give credit to favor. Hearing that such evil, such cold-blooded action took place in the very haven that I am my best at, shook me to the core. I now understand the meaning of having a “bleeding heart”.

My heart bleeds, not just as a teacher, not just as a woman but as my best friend said because I am human. There are very rare and brief moments (too rare and brief) when I find myself feeling so humble. It’s a feeling that one finds hard to describe. There aren’t words that can truly articulate the emotion. How we--how I take so much for granted. How we can lose it all--- life as we know it by just one angry thought that turns into evil and heinous actions leaving deep and horrendous wounds that will never ever heal in some cases.

The fact that its Christmas season and so many families are being destroyed every day chips away at my empathy. How family history, which we share at this time, has been ripped—hanging in mid-air to find the courage and the strength to continue being written. The families that will go home and see presents under the tree for loved ones that will never get to open them. How heart-breaking.

It’s sad; it’s unexplainable and leaves me speechless at times. Those are the times when my heart bleeds. This is the world we live in.

There is so much self-righteousness. So much self-given delusional hierarchy rules the world.

This can cause terror and paranoia to those who see it but it doesn’t scare me. Instead it breaks my heart and it makes me physically sick to watch mankind crush the only thing we have in this world—our hope and our faith. It is already scarce. It’s a painful reminder that it is indeed a cruel and dark world, getting darker by the day. It gets harder everyday to see the light and beauty of life.

In times like these so many spirits and hearts are broken—scattered to the wind and yet so many on the outside fail to open their eyes that should be full of sympathy. Maybe it’s too painful for some, too real, too much.

I’m guilty of such. Confining me to my own little world is a nasty habit of mine. What’s regular or acceptable of my time? What’s worthy of my attention. What’s important and what’s not. And it’s moments such as this when I am knocked to my knees. It forces me to look at my life, my heart, my mind, my spirit, my thoughts.

Days like this—I realize it’s not all about me. There’s a bigger picture, with a bigger story. I should be honored and feel blessed to just be a part of it.

Xoxo,

@BMynroe 
RaChelle-Denise McKinney