Epitome of 2013

Epitome of 2013

I had been staring at this blank canvass for about a week, watching the blinking cursor mock me. Writers block had become my best friend because I had absolutely no idea what to write. None at all.

 For me, writing isn’t just throwing out words. I use them to tell my story, release all the weight that may seem to be clutching on to me.

And here I was, knowing I had and wanted something to say but had no idea where to start. How could I possibly hold up my tradition of posting on New Year’s Eve a hope for the next year, when I had no concept of what to say?

It’s a writer’s worst nightmare.

So I decided to stop over thinking and over analyzing and just let the words flow however they seemed to come. Eventually, the dots would connect. At least I hope.

v  

2013 was what I call an “introduction to myself”. You know the saying, “I need to find myself”; or “I’m finding myself.” That’s a proven statement which I believe and standby but I cannot tell a lie and say that I have fully found myself, instead I have been introduced to the person that is me.

This year has been a meet and greet for me, not just with myself but to my abilities, faith and endurance.

I have been approached with so many opportunities that went way beyond my comfort zone. I’ve been pushed to limits that were set in my mind by external and internal influences. I’ve been put in situations where I had to question myself; going with my instinct that was all based on hope and faith.

Some precious things that I once held dear about and within me have died and fallen away, leaving room for more productive and inspiring things to be planted. I’ve had to set my priorities differently and put my own desire to the side in order to fulfill the greater good. Some was done in good cheer and others were done with a snarl and high brow but it all was still done.

Never have I felt so unprepared yet succeed beyond expectations throughout it all. It’s a feeling that is quite indescribable but at most very fulfilling and rewarding and I would do it all over again.

My 2012’s New Year’s Eves post was “To Taboo or Not Taboo”. As I read throughout it last night, in an effort to get some type of inspiration, I realized how little I knew about the truth I spoke of. None of the things in 2013 would have ever transpired had I not taken it upon myself to live and go about the year not putting myself in a box and embracing new things that came my way.

Oh, the new things that have come this way!

Life was not the only contributing factor to the new and evolving things spread throughout this year but I, myself have given room to walk through new doors.

I remember, I always remember, the prayers said through tears as I knelled at the edge of my bed. I would pray that I be made a better woman, a stronger woman. And as I look back now, I see how closely God was listening. And how in my most clueless state of mind, I was being given the most; my prayers were being fulfilled unbeknownst to me.

That’s the best type of blessing.

I’ve discovered so much about me. How I relate and react to the world and the people and things that revolve it. I’ve come to understand the many underlying meanings to the confusing pieces I’ve been given and I’ve come to discover even more confusing pieces, meaning yet to show it’s self.

The journey never ends.

v  

So what are my hopes for 2014?

Seeing as how I have already been introduced to whom which is me, now I want to grow and invest into that person. The woman that is the core of me, underneath all of these layers I have to peel back and discard.

And like the peeling of an onion, it’s not always a pleasant experience; many tears are shed during the process.

My hope is that I give more than I receive, that my path and mission is not a selfish one because I benefit most when I put myself aside. As crazy as that sounds, it’s true. I’ve spent many wasted days rebelling and running away from problems or life whenever it gets hard, it’s my fight or flight installment. And I’ve exhausted myself, I’ve done more harm than good by doing such and I just refuse to do that to myself any longer.

So instead, I wish to embrace come what may. That doesn’t make me a victim; it doesn’t make me weak and deemed surrendering to the hardships. Embracing gives character and in character there is strength. Instead of being a rebel, I want to be a warrior.

A warrior who gives her all and sets her mind and eyes on the prize; whatever prizes there is in 2014. But most importantly, I want to stay true and loyal to the woman that I’ve grown to know and love over the course of this year. A woman whom has a story to tell and no matter what or who says differently, she knows her story is worth telling.

So I say farewell to 2013, lighting and lifting a lantern into the sky with gratitude. Watching the light that has guided me throughout this year prepare and show the way to the 2014; which gracefully makes it way to greet me. I plan to be a good hostess.

Happy New Years Loves!

As Always,

Yours Truly,

-@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

Attention Whore

Attention Whore

I was driving down a road surrounded by desert, alone. My long, flowing hair was scattered in the wind because I had the top down—unbothered by the sun that beamed down on only me. My shiny candy apple red convertible was the only color breaking up the royal earth tones of the scenery I traveled through. I caught a glance at myself in the rearview mirror and was flattered at the sight: oversized black sunglasses on the face of a woman on a mission. A mission I didn’t know the details to.

I finally got to my main destination, Vegas and resorted to being even more confused—because Vegas, Sin City, was empty.

There were no by standers, there was no traffic, there was no sound—just the flamboyant buildings that made up Vegas—with only me as a possible occupant.

Where were the people who craved the drama and lust of life? Where was the world that this city was known for, the world of the best and the worst, the ugly and the beautiful?

Why am I here, I thought to myself but as much as I myself was lost, my hands knew where to take me as it steered the vehicle from street to street until I ended up in front of a grand apartment complex that beckoned me to come in, as if I belonged and my presence was overdue.

In what seemed like the flash of a second, I was standing in front of a beautiful view. A breathtaking view.  The floor to ceiling windows lined a whole wall that was high above the city. I was taken aback from the experience of the view but an unsettling feeling began to set in my stomach because this view gave even more evidence that I was alone, very much alone. There were no beings scattered about. Vegas seemed completely forgotten and abandoned.

I cautiously walked around the penthouse apartment that was furnished with all that screamed luxury and high maintenance. I made inventory of the flat pool in the middle of the floor that was laminated by a lavender color, mirrors that lined my bedroom and a closet full of diamonds, pearls and shoes for all walks of life. There were clothes made of the most expensive material, all in my size. A vanity mirror that seemed to be my second home, I assumed I had spent many hours in front of this mirror accomplishing a look that would get both hate and praise.

The only person now left to criticize and impress was the reflection in the mirror.

As familiar as this all was designed to be, it could have not been more unfamiliar. How to explain this cluster of emotions? And again, I asked why I was here. Why did I feel like a stranger to something that was clearly mine? Why did it not resonate?

As if a bolt of lightning had struck down upon my head, I realized the underlining motive: I was dreaming. All of this was a dream, a dream that had such meaning that I knew I had to pay close attention if I were to understand.

I was now in the presence and power of inception. A practice and process I know all too well.

I stood still and took inventory of all I could before the fine line of dream and reality broke. What is the message? What am I being told?

I was successful, highly successful. I had all that I desired: money, cars, clothes and living within the limits of that of spectacular, so why did it seem so sad? Why did this seem so unworthy and juvenile? Why had what I dreamed of seemed so pathetic?

Because I was alone in the world, the last person on Earth, surrounded by all the things I strive for in life, real life, and no one to share it with, or better yet, no one to show it off to.

Could the whole purpose of this dream was to note that along with the aspiration to be successful; I also wanted to be seen being successful? I needed an audience along with the success?

I awoke from the dream and remained in the bed for a good while trying to collect my thoughts, emotions and feelings. Dreaming such determined and illustrative dreams exhausts me but it was something I had to been shown in order to ponder.

I’ve heard the harsh criticism of those who seek to be the center of attention, “attention whores” is what the bluntest call them. How desperate those attention whores must be. How lowly we look down on them.

Why is that?

You will never hear someone clearly state that they enjoy or seek people’s attention because no one wants to look petty and superficial. The reason we pick apart those who do is because just the thought of someone wanting praise for such is unacceptable. They can’t do that! How dare they do that, go about life showing off and flashing their success in front of our faces!

There is a thin and blurry line between attention and recognition. There are those who are just flat out obnoxious and need to be brought down to earth, quickly. But does every person who flaunts themselves deserve to be thrown into the same category? Should all keep quiet and dare not assume the position of displaying themselves, even if they are well qualified to do so?

Could it be that the “attention whore” never intended to be one on display but the game of life placed them there? And that no matter how hard they try, they will never be one to blend in, be looked over, fly under the radar?

Could it be that some people are just meant and made to be in the spotlight, while others are meant to be backstage, or in the audience?

One can not survive without the other.

So why break the platform of those headliners by calling them superficial? Narcissistic? Full of themselves?

It's amazing how we are so quick to look down on those who show off, the ones that are branded "attention whores" and whose anthems include that of Kanye West's "Flashing Lights"---they make too much noise, yes? They need to take a seat and stop obtaining too much attention, yes?

I don't believe they are met with rolling eyes because of their blunt and unapologetic sense of superficiality---but because they have the nerve and gall to admit and do it. To admit that you enjoy being seen or to even hint at it; throws you into the fire! You are not supposed to consider yourself in such high regard---right?

We all want attention, even if we claim we don't, we do. That's why Facebook likes, YouTube views, Twitter followers, Instagram reposts hold so much power and control because as much as we may shake our heads, we just want to be liked and popular in someone's eyes. 

You don't have to admit it, I know there are some images out there that need to be maintained but the next time you scoff or give your 2 cents about Beyonce, Jay-Z, Kanye, Kim, Rihanna, etc. or those on the bottom of the food chain such as myself, I dare you to answer the question: "Why you mad?".

“The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention.” –Richard Moss

Yours Truly,

-@BMynroe 

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

xoxo

I Pray

I Pray

I quiet myself,

I fight off the voices that seem to overcrowd.

They are not welcomed here,

their protest and hassling isn't allowed.

           ∞       

I block out my falsified justification,

I slowly let down the walls that I allow to close me in.

It’s now time to let the rare listening to happen,

it’s time to let the anonymous prayers to begin.

         ∞       

The eyes of my soul search my heart for words I've yet to know.

I search for situations of people and things that life has yet to show.

I pray for mercy to be given to others

and for forgiveness to come their way.

I pray that strength and peace is given in times of what may.

         ∞       

I pray for those who have done wrong and refuse to acknowledge they did.

Prayer for those who walk with much pride,

those who let their self-worth go to the highest bid.

         ∞       

I pray for those who have lost their way

and have no desire to make it right.

I pray for those who fight inner demons quietly,

late into the night.

        ∞       

There are people who hurt, struggle and can’t breathe

because of the weight that they carry.

Some have shut down and closed off,

resistant in sharing.

          ∞       

There are emotions that run high,

there are roaming doubts so strong.

I pray for their progressive healing

and the act of letting go to come along.

          ∞       

I pray for the pasts of others and I pray for their future,

and the people in wait.

I pray for a better outcome in their present

and if needed, a better turn in their fate.

          ∞       

I ask myself,

Why do you pray for people whom you barely, if at all, know?

I ask myself,

Why do you pray for people whose gratitude don’t and probably will never show?

         ∞       

It’s because it’s my duty,

as a human with a soul.

To strive and find happiness and peace despite it all is the goal.

        ∞       

I pray for others

because I know too, the hardships of this world.

And I pray

that someone, anyone is praying for me,

this one whimsical girl.

-@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

Lean Into It

Lean Into It

“In life, we think that the point is to pass the test or

overcome the problem. The real truth is that things

don’t really get solved. They come together for a time,

then they fall back apart. Then they come together

again and fall apart again. It’s just like that.

Personal discovery and growth come from letting

there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief,

for relief, for misery, for joy.

Suffering comes from wishing things were different.

Misery is self inflicted, when we are expecting the

“ideal” to overcome the “actual,” or needing things

(or people, or places) to be different for us so we can

then be happy.

Let the hard things in life break you. Let them effect you.

Let them change you. Let these hard moments inform

you. Let this pain be your teacher. The experiences of

your life are trying to tell you something about yourself.

Don’t cop out on that. Don’t run away and hide

under your covers. Lean into it.

What is the lesson in this wind? What is this storm trying to

tell you? What will you learn if you face it with

courage? With full honesty and—lean into it.”

-Pema Chodron

A Price Must Be Paid...

A price must be paid……

Follow your dreams

“If while pursuing distant dreams

Your bright hopes turn to gray,

Don’t wait for reassuring words

Or hands to lead the way.

For seldom will you find a soul

With dreams the same as yours,

Not often will another help you

Pass through untried doors.

If inner forces urge you

To take a course unknown,

Be ready to go all the way,

Yes, all the way alone.

That’s not to say you shouldn't

Draw lessons from the best;

Just don’t depend on lauding words

To spur you on your quest.

Find confidence within your heart

And let it be your guide.

Strive ever harder toward your dreams

And they won’t be denied.”

-Bruce B. Wilmer (1976)

---

This poem has such significance to me because of the way I came about it. During my summer in Chicago, I allowed myself to soak up as much as I could. I saw it as an opportunity to let my dreams grow bigger, gain more substance and become more legit.

I had finally had the time and space to reflect and become more in tune with myself.

I walked everywhere. I was staying in the infamous Hyde Park that oozed nothing but independent creativity. From the constant sight of beautiful Lake Michigan to the extravagant structured mansions that surrounded. I walked past President Obama house on a daily while making my daily rounds, waving at the C.I.A that blocked off the street. They are just as incognito as I imagined. No matter how much I smiled or gracefully past by, I was not given a second glance. For me, that was beyond entertaining. Dedicated indeed.

I pasted so many diversities and what some may call “walking contradictions”. I came across a white woman who had blonde dreads that past her butt and wore Bob Marley shirts on a daily; she rode her bike with as much confidence as a black man pushing a Black Cadillac sitting on 24’s. RESPECT! Our only communication was a smile and nod in the park as I jogged and she cycled. I grew to expect her on nice days; it wouldn’t seem complete had I not.

I also visited the nationally known Northwestern University. The campus was beyond amazing, surrounded by places that catered to all. There were Thai restaurants; a hippie thrift store that catered to the “grass lovers” and made no attempt to disguise it, I bought plenty of their antique beanies.  I loved to stroll about the book store that had universal works: Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, ran by a small quiet Korean man. Only his genuine slight smile would be all the permission I needed to walk about and thumb through his collection as much I liked. His trust in me to not pocket a book or two was refreshing.

I was sitting on a bench outside an antique Chicago apartment complex not even 3 blocks away from the university. I was multitasking between reading and people watching; and made contact with an elder white woman who clearly lived in the building. I smiled, she smiled back.

In short amount of time, I profiled her. She seemed to have such a pedigree about her; maybe it was her sandy blonde hair that had streaks of ice white strands flowing though out. But more intriguing, she seemed to be walking around with a Pandora box of stories untold. How interesting.

Time had passed and I was still sitting, people watching mostly. I found it humorous to see a petite woman jogging next to her giant collie that tried to slow its pace and not overpower her. I admired the “Mr. Moms” who pushed double strollers that were occupied with toddlers and toting stylish diaper bags.

I didn’t even notice that the older woman I had profiled earlier had come out to water the flowers that surrounded the bench I was sitting.

“This heat is death to my loves,” she said in a thick French accent.

The summer I was staying in Chicago happened to be one of the most hottest and deadly Chicago had seen in years, daily the news was reporting heat strokes and deaths due to the extreme heat. But with me being a Southern breed girl, this heat was nothing.

“Your flowers are beautiful, is this all your garden?” I asked. She smiled at my compliment, “It is. I love to bring color to the world.” Her accent was becoming more apparent and intoxicating. She causally sat down next to me, as if she disregarded the fact that I was nothing more than a complete stranger.

“You have the most beautiful face. Your eyes are so sensual.” She said as she studied my face. I was taken aback from the statement but was so flattered that a French lady admired me. I doubt she knew how much my ego had grown.

After thanking her and carrying on casual conversation, I asked the question that had been nagging me. “So, where are you originally from?” “Oh, I am from Paris.” She said it as if saying the sky were blue. She turned her head to me, “And you? Where are you from love?” I wondered if she heard a tad of a southern drawl. “Arkansas.” Her mouth flew open. “You are from Arkansas? I would have never guessed it. You look so exotic.” My ego grew an inch bigger. “Arkansas is so lovely! Oh, the second husband and I took a road trip to see the plantations of New Orleans and passed through the Ozarks. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

I found that amusing. Here was a woman who had clearly seen the world, had more sensual stories than a romantic novel and was doting on the hills of Arkansas.

We talked for more than an hour. I spoke about my love for literature and passion for fashion.  She related that she had no children, never had a desire. I told her about my impromptu decision to spend the summer in Chicago, despite the fact that I had no money and no plans; I just came.

 Candid stories about her love for photography and R&B music made me smile and her sense of humor was beyond attractive. This lady was it! She was someone that belonged in movies, a once in a lifetime encounter. She looked up at the sun as if it she could see the exact time. “Oh, I must go get ready to have drinks with my friends. Hopefully they order my bottle of Chardonnay.” She glanced at me and gave a wink and a smile. I nodded in agreement.

“It was nice talking to you love. You stay fabulous, yes? Don’t let them tear you down. Do not walk away from all you dream. Never.” She gave me a slight peck on the cheek and returned into the building to get into, what I knew would be a beyond fabulous attire. RESPECT! I took that as my cue to head back to my place of stay.

I couldn’t help but think about her parting words and the fact that during our whole conversation, we never once gave our names. She would have found my name quite interesting seeing as how my name is of French origin. A good conversation piece wasted.

 But her statement about me following my dreams was so improvised. I didn’t understand the origin or reason for her saying it. Oh, well.

 I passed the bookstore once more and decided to look at the various things strolled across the front counter. The owner was in the back helping someone find a particular piece of literature. I was looking through something advertised as “Wallet Stuffers”. They were cheap, so I decided to see if there was one that caught my attention. “Follow Your Dreams” not only caught my attention but sent chills throughout me.

Was all this orchestrated to be a pivotal and significant moment of my life? I dare to say: Yes.

---

I know that I speak about following dreams and I can understand how it can be annoying---it’s gets annoying to me. Dreams are a double-edged sword, which is why many don’t follow them or even think to dream. The price to pay is far too much.

I sometimes wish I could see the future, just a glimpse, to see if my dreams do come true; if I am doing all that I need to in order to lead to my desired accomplishments because this has to be one of the hardest, toughest and loneliest times of my life. I have never been more discouraged; more looked down, more disappointed. Everything around me is telling me to stop, to quit, give up.

The crazy thing is I can’t. The will is too strong and I guess the more discouraged I feel, the more I must step up. There’s a pattern to it all, I believe.

And like “Ms. Paris” forewarned and Wilmer stated:

“Find confidence within your heart

And let it be your guide.

Strive ever harder toward your dreams

And they won’t be denied.”
Yours Truly,

-@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)

No Promises

No Promises

My eyes open and I realize it’s another day of life.

The question is

Am I going to live it or do I watch it pass me by?

My feet have not touched the ground,

Yet 
I've been brought to Earth in a harsh and short period of time.

This is why I obsess to and prefer to sleep; in order to avoid these thoughts of mine.

I take a deep breath as I hold the pillow tightly; I sink deeper under the covers.

Oh, how I wish I could assign the endurance of this life to another.

But,

It’s been given to me

And

Me alone.

I am assigned to live this life fully, refusing to become just another clone.

The price of this is to walk along with the voices of

Past, present and future;

Still loud in my head,

To ignore them

As I continue to take steps ahead.

Another day is another chance.

I can’t make any promises,

But I’ll do the best that I can.

-@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise McKinney)