Wide Awake

Wide Awake

…hhhhuuummm…

My air-conditioner was playing it's regular tune. 
My ears seem to open before my eyes in the morning. Mainly because my beloved sleep mask forbids the sunlight to enter without my permission.

I’m so fancy!

The silence began to give way to a miniature rhythmic thump, Thump, THUMP!

I know this routine all too well. This was day 5 of awakening to a new day accompanied by my notorious migraines.

“Coffee”, I managed to say aloud in a sleepy drawl.

As I made my way to the coffee maker, my Victoria Secret robe catching wind with each grumpy morning step.

The first pretty “walker” ever.

I had made up my mind that I was going to sleep in. It was Thursday, which meant the only agenda for “BMynroe Embodied” was #ThrowbackThursday.

Thank God!

I settled my way back into my bed, my Marilyn coffee mug in hand.

“Please Jesus,” I prayed.

I did not feel like vigorously rubbing any spilled coffee out of anything. I reached for the remote, focused on channel surfing because the only thing airing at the crack of dawn was news.

And I wasn’t in the mood for hearing the routine announcements about someone dying at the hands of gun violence, an identified body being found, another innocent drug-addicted baby being born or the war between humanity here and across the seas.

It’s scary how I am used to it all.

My finger froze when I saw the set recording taking place.

Bishop T.D Jakes was passionately speaking to his flock and I was, like always, automatically captivated. It had been awhile since I had taken in one of his sermons.

“Are you going to ignore it? Is there something better to watch then what’s before you?”

The voice!

I sighed as I placed the remote control down, trying to mentally prepare and center myself for what was about to take place.

“Let me get the tissue, pen and paper.”

Class was now in session

---

 Opportunity in Opposition

“My new normal is where great miraculous things take place, at the same time, Devil’s are trying to kill me.”*

I hold a special place in my heart for Bishop Jakes. His sermons, his messages, his teachings debuted themselves in a very trying and difficult time in my life. And in my subconsciousmission to find what was “missing”, his voice is what guided me.

Confession: I am a very stubborn, bull-headed woman, not out of spite or intent but out of instinct.

I chunk it up to being a Virgo.

So to have someone to resonate with me and leave me with a hunger and thirst for more-- I know they are someone special and deserving of my undivided attention.

God is working through him to get to me.

“Opposition” had always left a bad taste in my mouth; just the word being pronounced had me seeing red.

Why?

I have spent countless hours, days, years and seasons up against opposition and have not won all the battles. Call me a sore loser.

This Pride of Mine!

---

  “The challenge of my life is to co-exist between two things that are totally true but my perspective is the only thing that makes a difference”*

Water began to cloud my vision because I knew this to be so very true; in a sense, painfully true. I was humbled by the fact that this man, this amazing teacher to the world of all listening creed, color and nations was clarifying something that I had realize not even a month before.

Bishop Jakes had clarified that with each day I am at war for my mind and the key to success was not in the material or tangible things, instead the key was held deep within my own mentality and outlook.

I have the power!

 “I cannot change the variable, only my perspective.”*

---

Don’t Despise Small Beginnings

“It will not be a lot of thunder or a lot of clouds but instead small clouds with big rain.”*

In order to understand the concept of my next disclosure, I must first establish my family history and background.

I am bred from a very unique family combination. My father’s side consists of much generational prestige. Architects, former staff writers for “Teen People”, second in command of a national store brand, graduates of Howard University and other HBC’s (Historical Black Colleges), elbow-rubbers with the elite of the elite.

My mother’s side consists of genuine, shameless, lovable country-bumpkins with pure Red Cherokee blood flowing through their authentic veins. Childhoods consisted of nicknames ranging from “Hen”, “Tadpole”, “Ponyhoss”, “Bullhooka” and  “Scuda Buck” (my blue eyed Great-Grandfather); raised in 3 room houses, 4 to a bed protected by a tin-roof; haunting yet hilarious tales of midnight strolls to the outhouse and a bloodline of legendary moonshiners, my mother’s father being the King with the nickname “Shine”.

I am the spawn of oil and water.

Being conducted within the realm of high end and dirt low has created much strife in my journey as a person, my purpose and my identity; not to mention the criticism and complaints I got and get for “not doing enough” and “not living up to the family name”.

Since I’ve become an adult the jeers have lost their filters and become more current and more ruthless.

You haven’t lived until you’ve had people try to live through you.

It’s not that I am lazy or that I don’t have aspirations and it most certainly doesn’t mean that I expect things to be handed to me.

I know the sensation of working to the edge of exhaustion of both mind and body. I know what it’s like to feel deflated and run on nothing but fumes, barely able to construct a decent and coherent thought.

I know!

Which is why when Bishop Jakes spoke on “small beginnings”, I couldn’t help but feel touched and comforted but most of all, heard by God.

---

"Why are you even trying?”

“You are just one girl in a small southern town that no one has ever heard of!”

“It’s not like you’re in the big city with paparazzi following you! No one cares about you!”

I care.

What I don’t care about is the present circumstances that clash with my aspiration and dreams for my future. I don’t care if my cousins are bringing home a 6 to 7 digit paychecks and I only acquire 5. I don’t care if I am in a town where my regular made-up face and coiffed appearance stands out like a fish in the desert.

If anything, I am humbled and at moments feeling quite blessed.

Why?

Because once I do begin to see the fruits of my labor and faith in the tangible and preconceived notions those around me have--I will have, be and stand on the truth.

The truth that it was not gotten easily and instantly; and it most certainly was not handed to me! It would be acquired by my perseverance, my faith and the belief in the Word and Promise of my God. I’ll take that path any time, any day.

My testimony!

---

Bust a Move!

“Sneak up on success!”*

I had finally clicked the one single word that I grew so apprehensive about: Publish.

My Facebook page had been under my construction, only unbeknownst to me and my sister. Now that it was published, “BMynroe Embodied” is open for the world to view and judge on the world’s biggest social media site.

I could not be more nervous.

I have become more involved and dedicated to my blog, posting weekly instead of on inconsistent and unforeseen days and times.

I have ventured into other social media revenues and subcultures. I have a vision of making me, “BMynroe” into a brand; and the hunger and drive increases with each passing day.

In my order to do so, I would have to continue to promote, display and inject myself into the world on the regular; putting myself in the spotlight of all to see, not knowing what’s to come of it—relying on my blind faith to lead me.

“BMynroe Trends” is the child of tireless and endless nights of brainstorming, research and self-reflection. I am attaching my name to material and I want to stay as true and authentic to who I am, what I believe and what I stand for. So of course I invest much time and energy into finding what resonates with me.

After a successful and promising 3 week trial run, a Facebook page seemed to be the next proper step.

But what a risky step it is.

I know that upgrading my exposure is going to fulfill its very purpose: expose; to both potential fan and potential haters.

“The more success I encounter, the more opportunity there is to be envied.”*

---

The latter statement is not as egotistical as it sounds, at least I don’t intent for it to be, and the same as Bishop Jakes; but the truth is the truth.

The truth is that the opposition and the envy is so dangerously close to success. In its proximity to me it’s displayed in the very people one would assume would encourage and inspire me. Hence, it’s common sense to deduct that I am close to success.

“The risk of being bitten is getting up.”*

---

Emancipation Proclamation

“On September 22, 1862, Lincoln had issued a preliminary proclamation that he would order the emancipation of all slaves…”

The date of that statement and fact of history was all it took for it to be forever embedded in my heart and soul.

I celebrate the birthdate of the announcement of upcoming freedom. I celebrate the birthdate of new found hope. I celebrate the birthdate of an answer to multiple prayers. I celebrate the birthdate of the declaration that the hundreds of years of enduring of hurt, pain and strife were not in vain.

 Bishop Jakes declaring an Emancipation Proclamation for creativity, vision, favors and blessings overflowing, seemed to break the last bit of composure I had. My core had been shook. I don’t believe in coincidences. Preconceived chaos is orchestrated by a divine power and happens for a reason, a reason that will present its self in due time.

This was one of those times!

---

Quantity over Quality

“The blessings God has in store for you is so big, so massive, it’s beyond your highest thinking! It’s far beyond human comprehension!”*

Throughout mankind’s history, we have participated in the practice of encouraging people to dream and chase after them; some lead to genocide and some lead to overcoming obstacles and changing history for ever.

For this mental demonstration, picture the Wheaties commercials with the present day All-Star athlete, flashing their pearly whites, giving a high thumbs up for dreams and a balanced breakfast.

I wonder.

Do we really mean it? Do we really inspire people to go against the grain, walk onto the stage into the spotlight, exposing themselves to some of the most harsh and dedicated dream smashers? Are we wishing them the best with all our hearts? Is it genuine?

Until one has dared to chase after their aspirations and be met by demons, pain and betrayal wrapped in opposition, one doesn’t truly know the origin of encouragement. 

Until one has experienced the loneliness and exile of that of a dreamer, attempts of empowerment hold little merit.

Until one would rather be looked down upon, then stop looking up at the stars; until one experiences more hate than love just because their vision is one never seen before, those “inspiring words” are nothing more than words.

“Surrounded by adversity, in a world full of haters; you got so many bills piling up, so many liabilities at hand, so much opposition, yet you still dare to dream.”*

---

Who Does She Think She Is?

“I am going to be the best me I can be. I am going to do all that I can do, even if it means you hating me. I’m going for it.”*

I had made this up in my mind a year or 2 ago. Once it was said and declared by my mouth into my life, onto my heart, mind and spirit, the jeers and animosity became louder…. but un-nerving.

That acquitted anxiety I had rooted within me became excitement.

The fear I had allowed to be installed became fuel to push past oncoming collisions set to distract me.

That quiet hope I had kept in moderation had become my fire-burning passion.

All of those components helped produce “BMynroe Embodied”, the first step into making the vision I have come to life.

---

Someone asked me where I hoped this will all go. What do I plan on doing with all of this, what’s the end result?

As I sat there, thinking, I realized how unconcerned I am about “the future”.

I am not delusional, of course I take into account the things that transpire and I do focus on what the next step will be. It’s one of my assets.

It isn’t because I am not making moves or drawing up plans. It’s not that I am not taking responsibility for my life and fighting everyday for the direction it intend for it to take.

 It’s because I know one of the greatest examples of success is doing what you love, having faith and watching it blossom and exceed all expectations. 

Who am I to limit the possibilities by tapering it to fit the carnal mind of those who couldn’t possible understand the vision I have? It would be the greatest injustice.

I responded in the most truthful way I could:

“I plan on being happy, dying without regret and leaving all that I have here because I used every bit of talent and ability God gave me.”

My hopes and dreams are not that of the secular world, I am not led by what can be seen or heard. For my guidance and empowerment is more divine and sacred than what the world can understand or duplicate, so I will gladly walk and stand alone, alone but wide awake.

“I pray that you become all that God has called you to be and I pray about everything else that you do not quit. For you are closer now than when you first believed. Hold on!”*

-Bishop T.D. Jakes

XO,

@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise)

(((* Quotes accredited to Bishop T.D. Jakes)))

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)