Poems from the Elephant Journal- rejj ©

Here are some of my new poems...

Laughing at Nothing

The child laughs
at nothing
because to her
nothing is everything
the invisible,
the infinite,
the glimmer of no thing
is new thing
is old thing
is lost and found thing
atom and ion
crayon and snow globe
moon beams and coach purses
shadow and lipstick
the animal cracker the couch ate...
it may seem that the child
laughs at nothing,
but maybe the laughter
is everything.


Your Anything

It was done.
That night I burned
the blueprints to my
conventional life:
I would not be
your success,
your lucky star,
your president,
your baby mama,
your secretary,
your personal chef,
your scientist,
your Saturday night,
your bitch,
your board chairwoman,
your prisoner,
your teacher,
your yes-woman,
your no-sir,
your diplomatic immunity,
your I forgive you
your everything's gonna be okay,
your anything
No, I wouldn't be
your anything
pre-determined,
I would be
original
unwritten,
unscripted,
a traipse off the grid
through the brambles and thorns
through the ocean corral,
I would fly through the fire
swim through the skies,
hopscotch through wormholes
of galaxies with no names
and you might call me
your goddess,
your queen,
your compass rose,
your north star,
but I wouldn't be that either
I would be my own rogue star
shooting my own path
my own way
without
your gravitational pull,
your approval
your name
without
your anything

Untitled

We are living in the time
of answered prayers,
there is still so much left to pray,
but for today
we are world-making
new life creating
living in the breath taking
space of innovation
and expansion
no longer broken hearted
but mended hearted
whole, healthy, healed
sewn threw with the wisdom
of linear time
and non-linear love
I see the change of nations
from the highest cliffs
of my heart
and I set a course to the sun
finally knowing
my wings won't melt.

To teach or not to teach???

As my Cali trip comes to a close, I am left with a bit of a cold, some good memories, and a lot to think about. Am I good teacher? Sometimes. I like kids. That's got to count for something, and every once in a while they manage to remember some Spanish, so maybe I'm not a complete failure. But during the course of my week with 70 elementary school teachers at the Responsive Classroom Conference in El Cerrito, California, I found myself questioning my methods and also my path.

I don't remember the first time I taught a class. I remember my flight to Japan, waiting for Rexi in the lobby of the Keio Plaza Hotel and having the stunning realization that I was completely illiterate for the first time in my adult life. I remember arriving in my little rural town and making a speech in broken Japanese. I even remember my first day of school and how at the all school assembly every student was lined up in perfect rows by height, their black hair almost uniformly cut shoulder length, their dark eyes fixated on me. But as for my first class, I remember stepping inside the room and having the children scream because they had never seen a black person up close. The rest is a blur. I've never really fainted or blacked out, but there are huge gaps in my recollection of those first few weeks in Japan. Probably for the best.

I figured it out though. I learned how to teach well enough to get hired at various institutions around the world. And I just survived my first year as a Spanish teacher, with good reviews no less. But there I was, surrounded by "professional teachers" who had gone through certification programs and student teaching and all the other expensive flaming hoops they make you jump through to teach public, and I had a bout of insecurity. What did I miss out on? Are they better teachers for all that training or is that a myth? Am I missing the pedagogical training I need to be good...or to improve as a teacher? Do I have to go back to school? I shudder at the thought.

And then came the even bigger question: do I even want to be a teacher? I like it. It's fun. It pays the rent, but is this my calling? UUUUURRRRG. The closer I get to 30, the more I feel the need to have something figured out, like I'm on a timer or something. I keep thinking the "life police" are going to jump out of my closet and say "Time's up, either be an adult and pick a career or you have to go back to 20 and repeat it til you get it right."

I did meet some cool people at the conference. I shared a room with the librarian from my school, and that worked out beautifully. Her husband and daughter flew into town as our conference was ending and we had a lovely dinner together with my cousin and some friends from Madison who now live in Texas and happen to be summering in San Fran. It was a fun time for leisurely dinners and long trips on the BART. I had my first guitar lesson since 2000 and bought a beautiful sundress (and matching earrings). Then it was over and while I was able to get some good ideas and put together my tentative teaching goals for the next school year, I'm even further away from knowing what the hell I'm doing. I know I'll be a teacher next year, but then after that? Who knows, maybe I'll get a record deal or finally learn trapeze and join the circus. It's summer. I can't take anything too seriously. For now I'm just content to practice the new teacher tricks I learned and plan my curriculum for next year (which seemingly will include a few after school art courses).

The Beach...

As soon as I arrived in Oakland, I caught the BART to San Fran and hopped in a rental car with Rexi, my 3 continent road dawg of the last decade. She had met some guy (often the beginning of her more colorful stories) who had rented a cabin by the sea. So we made our way over the bridge and out of the city on the treacherous and yet super beautiful winding roads that lead us through many the switch backs of green hills towards Stinson Beach. We arrived at the cabins shortly after sunset and hurried to unload all the gear and get the lantern going.

It was a beautiful site (which I won't name for fear of the angry Californians who are trying to keep it their secret) of about 10 cabins that you have to reserve 7 months in advance. Our cabin was called Whale Watcher and was the closest to the steep rocky cliffs that led to the ocean. The water crashed and banged in frothy white exhales outside the sweaty windows of the wooden cabin. There were no lights or plumbing, save for the 2 bathrooms up the hill...which while bereft of electricity boasted skylights and clean flush toilets.

I hadn't been camping since my teenage years, and it was strange to think of starting my city vacation in the wilderness, but it was a good strange. And Rexi's "guy" was nice, a well traveled, polite ex flight attendant, with enough camping gear to start a small REI. Rather than BBQ, we ate cold Safeway pizza and sugar snap peas while sipping Vodka cran mixed with Naked mango smoothies. It was nice to hear the water and to watch the night sky rise up from the sea.

The three of us bundled up in fuzzy pajama bottoms and layers of sweatshirts against the sudden Bay chill, and lay lengthwise across a picnic table remembering that stars actually still come out at night when you're not in the city. Rexi pointed out the constellations she could remember. And though I couldn't always figure out what she was pointing to, I did see a shooting star and I made a wish for an endless summer. Or really just to feel like this for a while...to have time for that extra glass of wine, to be able to relax with friends, not trying to go anywhere fast or thinking of the next agenda item. Summer is probably my truest form of meditation, a time when I don't feel like I'm in push or pull, I'm just chill and present and there is BBQ, time to sit in the sun, books to read, and mojitos to sip and everything is perpetually perfect...different everyday, but still perfect.

We talked into the night, telling old stories and remembering our various adventures. The "guy" built a decent fire in the woodstove. And I was passed out by the time the mouse showed up. The next morning Rexi and her guy got up to see the sunrise. I hadn't planned on getting up, but I did anyway and they were already gone, so I made my own way through the narrow pathway leading up the hill, surprising baby rabbits and being surprised by the California newts that skittered across my path. When I'd come to the end of that, no closer to anywhere specific, I traveled back down and made my way down a different path towards the beach trying my best not to think about the food chain. It's been so long since I've really been in nature, so long that I just kept thinking about snakes and all the other potentially scary animals that might be hiding in the bushes, until I finally just went back to the picnic table to sit and let the ocean clear my mind.

Then it was time to nap a bit and chill. Rexi's guy had this mini-burner that attached to a coffee cup. If Inspector Gadget ever made coffee, this is how he would do it. I watched him boil water and figure out ratios and interchange cups...it was kind of hypnotic, and we kept talking about hiking and actually doing something, but it was well past noon before we ventured any further than the bathroom and that was when I saw the snake. It was chilling on the porch, just a slither away from the crack in the door. We both looked at each other, each one wondering what the other would do, until eventually it lost intest in me and turned and slithered under the cabin.If I had been alone, I might have screamed or had some other embarrassing, but much more honest reaction, but Rexi and the guy were right behind me, so I kept it cool.

A beautiful green eyed 10 year old and her John Makenroe-look-alike-dad were passing by and saw the snake too. They seemed much more excited about it than any of us were and assured us it was harmless. The 10 year old told us about the starfish is the ponds down the other trail and the waterfalls by the beach, and this set our course for the afternoon. First when ventured over the bolders at the bottom of the trail, which led us to a rocky beach. We visited some child's forgotten lean-to, which was build from driftwood and reminded me of the treehouses Bonna and I used to make in the woods by the railroad tracks before I knew enough to be afraid of the animals that lived there. Someone had lined up 3 dead bird carcusses with white bleached bones and carved a WELCOME sign into driftwood using a sharp rock. We stumbled further down the beach past a trickling brook that might be a waterfall with more rain and climbed to the other side of a bolder where we startled a baby sea lion sunbathing on the rocks, and I was greeted by a second snake in my path...proof that what you think about really does manifest itself, whether you want it to or not. I've been trying to turn this focus towards winning the powerball, but to no avail as of yet.

It was a different and fun day. We did eventually make our way to the other beach where we saw red spiny starfish and skittering rock crabs. I collected tiny irridescent shells and purple rocks and thought about how much I missed out on because of my fears. I probably wouldn't have done any of those things alone. I had only made it to where the path dead-ended at the rock this morning, for fear that I would twist and ankle and be attacked by water snakes and no one would be around to make me brave. I sat in the sand and thought about that 10 year old, and the 10 year old I had been, not entirely fearless (I was smart), but so much less concerned about things I had no control over. I was much more willing to believe that everything would just work itself out...that I would be able to go camping without getting mauled by a bear or something. Where did all this fear come from? Is this just what happens when you get older? You're tall enough to see past the fun and adventure to the danger lurking in the bushes, the broken glass waiting to pierce through your sandal, the sand crab about to pinch your ass. Well I wasn't able to suspend all my hesitations, but I did managed to have a really good time and a surprisingly positive experience in nature.

The Right Mistake

It was the title that sold me. Having made so many wrong mistakes, I wondered what the right one might be...and my random book pick turned out not to be a mistake at all. Walter Mosley, author of the Easy Rawlins series, chronicles the continuing journey of a man named Socrates Fortlow. Socrates is not a hero. He's a convicted murderer...a man who killed a man, raped the man's wife, and killed her too. And he actually did it. This isn't like the Hurricane or any other story where the "killer" was just guilty of being in close proximity to crime while being black. While his guilt is never in question, it is his journey of redemption that asks all the right questions.

Is there such a thing as freedom? What does it mean to be free and what do you do with your freedom? After living in a cage like an animal for more years than he actually lived outside, Socrates is unexpectedly paroled and forced to set upon an adventure he never dreamed of...one of living a different life.

The story begins with Socco playing dominos with a bunch of old black men. They are laughing and gossiping about Freddy Bumpus and Vannessa Tremont. Not only did Vanessa cheat on Freddy, but then she kicked him out of his own house, the house his grandfather built...and was up there livin' in it with the other man. Everyone has an oppinion. Most think it's a shame, then a man named Comrad says if it were him, he would kill the man who ever tried to take his woman and his house. Socco takes exception to this and pushes the point. "What if it were me," he asks? Everyone knows he's a bad man, a marked man, someone you don't want to fuck with...so then the question becomes if pride compells us to do the right thing, the wrong thing, or the easy thing. It may be the wrong thing to kill someone to save your pride, or maybe in some people's eyes, it's the only right thing you can do when someone wrongs you that way. But for Socrates, it's not the answer, it's the question, it's the idea that maybe there are other solutions.

In fact Socco comes up with a totally unexpected solution. Since no papers have been signed, Freddy still owns the property and Socrates decides to rent it as a meeting space. As he is "a bad man" he doesn't even really have to fight to get Vanessa and her lover off the property...and from here the book opens up into a series of meeting held at the Big Nickle, the tin plated house next to the one Freddy's grandfather built.

Socco basically forms his own sanga, recruiting a diverse cross section of people from all walks of life from lawyers, to drug dealing gansters to famous singers. They form a Thursday night dinner club where people talk about everything and anything. Sometimes there are arguments, sometimes people talk about what's happening in their communities or their minds and hearts and are able to come up with solutions...and sometimes there are no solutions, just space enough to be heard.

I won't go into much more detail. It's a rich book, thick with the complexities of trying to learn how to be a better person when you've already made the worst mistakes you can make. Reading it made me think, it made me hope, it made me wonder what other revelations my own sangas might bring.

The Dating Vacation...

First there was the dating. It must have been a New Year's resolution or an intention...hard to remember now, but I got it in my head that I actually wanted to go out on dates like people do on TV. You know where there is small talk and dinner, maybe a movie or a walk in the park and the guy pays for everything and is a good tipper and doesn't get drunk, ask for sex (on date 1...I mean really?!?!), or start calling you his girlfriend just because you shared some sushi. Clearly real life dating for me has been kind of hit or miss....but I had this idea. I'm going to go on dates. And that was step 1, so then came step 2...with whom? Hmm.

Well most of the people I see on a daily basis are under the age of 12 or over the age of 50. About 80% of the people I know in my age range are women...so of that 20% who are actually men (and not transgendered), most of them are married, gay, or have dated my friends in recent history (I don't do sloppy seconds). So, assuming work, taekwondo, and church are not all that viable in terms of me meeting suitable guys that leaves the grocery store, the library, clubs, and the occasional house party as my dating hunting grounds. So then there is the whole talking to strangers thing. How do you meet a stranger in this city? And I don't mean dude whose talking to himself and rocking from side to side on the bus. I mean a cutie who is about something and not scary. How do you know if someone is cool if he's a stranger? I mean Ted Bundy was apparently a cute, nice guy and I'm certainly not trying to bring him home to mom. So I began to solicit referrals.

I mean it's kind of obvious right? I know tons of people and they know tons of people, surely they know someone who I could spend an enjoyable TV-like moment with on a Saturday night. Did I mention most of my friends are women...yeah well, most of their friends are women too...or gay men, or gay women, or all manner of very cool people who aren't in my dating zone. So on to Plan B. The Internet.

I had a big aversion to online dating. Not only did it seem really impersonal, but it seemed to me that by increasing the amount of strangers I came in contact with, while the chances for dating went up, so did the potential for crazy people. While the friend referral system didn't really go that well, I liked the idea of my potential date already being vetted and vouched for by people I knew.

However, after K&B's wedding (they met online), plus Coco's triumphant return to dating (also facilitated by the Internet), and Mz. Blu's own success stories, I had to admit it seemed like I was the only one not online. Maybe it's a Seattle thing. I mean there are tons of socially awkward people out there...and while I'm not trying to date them per se...it could be possible that they have shifted our collective city consciousness into a state where it's just easier to meet people in cyber space. While annoying, I had to face the facts that my traditional methods weren't yielding the results I wanted. So with a lot of input from friends, I created a profile and "put myself out there".

Then I waited. And I waited. I began to receive a lot of blah blah blah from guys who addressed me as "Hey Baby" or "zup mama".... automatic disqualification. Then there were those who wrote in all capital letter or were unable to even put together coherent sentences in English. My favorite was a gentleman from Nigeria who wrote me an email he titled "We yo pepu". It was almost as funny as it was scary, but also totally frustrating and demoralizing because not only was I nowhere near my goal, but I felt even more like I was stuck in the middle of one of the Universe's practical jokes.

Finally I met 3 guys I could actually converse with....1 in Cali, 1 in NC, and 1 in Seattle. The 1 in Cali was very cool, polite, well educated, easy to talk to, but he turned out to be way out of my age range (he didn't post his age on his profile). While I was completing the fourth grade, he was having his first child. NC seemed promising, a little more traditional minded than what I would usually go for...but definitely sane and interesting. We decided to meet up in DC since I was headed there anyway for spring break. Well date day came and he called to say he had car trouble. Now I am realistic. I know that things come up. I didn't fault him for not being able to make it that day, but I was in DC for a week. If I could figure out how to get from Seattle to DC, surely if dude was really interested, he could figure out an alternate form of transportation be it greyhound or renting a car...but he didn't and though he promised to "make it up to me" he didn't do that either...and I need a man who is about his word and has some integrity. So then I came back to Seattle and after a few very intriguing phone calls, I finally went on a real date.

Date one was lovely. Seattle was very cute, charming...a gentleman, the kind that walks on the outside and opens doors (though not my car door...I think that's just my generation though). Moreover we had a good raport and chemistry. He was easy to talk to, well educated, funny, and full of good stories. But somehow between date one and date two, everything went awry. Never date a Gemini! The evil twin emerged. He became jealous and possessive (yes really by DATE TWO!). He expressed his disapproval of me going out salsa dancing with my friends, stating that any woman of his (wait what?!) would never hurt him like this. Is the theme song from Psycho playing in your head yet? It should be. There was more, including some very biting accusations about my character. The whole incident was very not cool, especially when after calling me out my name and insulting me, he then tried to cuddle with me. I kept having mental flashes of those Lifetime women's movies...you know the one where the guy seems all nice, but by date three he's pulling the Ike and Tina. UNIVERSE: when I said a TV like date...I meant good TV, not Jerry Springer. It was bizarre and totally freaked me out. I was left thinking WTF just happened?!?

Hence the vacation. I have been in WTF situations before and thrown a tantrum, promising to convert to lesbianism, or more realistically just to simply not date for the next decade. This time around I found myself asking IS IT ME??? I mean here I am studying the Law of Attraction and trying to raise my mental equivalent...which is the Gandhi like philosophy of being the change you want to see...but not just in the world, in your own life. If you want something to show up in your life you have to make space for it, cultivate the dream, ask the Universe to guide you in what you could be doing to shift your life into alignment with your dream. This is how I got rid of my crappy job and found one that has been awesome. This is how I came to live in this much bigger space in a fabulous neighborhood for way less than it would usually cost to live around here. I mean these principals had worked in so many other aspects of my life and yet here I was seemingly totally unable to have the dating experience I wanted. WHY? If your life and what's showing up in it are a reflection of who you are and what you're thinking, what was I think that kept making everything come up crappy?

Then a friend of mine kind of put some things into perspective for me. She said that it wasn't so much what was showing up, but how I was dealing with it that I should examine. She herself had spent 6 years in an abusive relationship before she built up the courage to leave. When I described my encounter with Psycho Seattle guy, she immediately recognized the potential for danger and implored me to get out (which I had already done). Old Afro would have given the cussout to NC and maybe not had enough self worth to ditch psycho Seattle quite so quickly, but new Afro escaped both situations much more gracefully.

I began to think about what else I could be doing differently and the first thing that came to mind was something I learned from this Zen Buddhist Monk on one of my visits to Japan. I was (stupidly) explaining to him my trouble with meditation and how I have the Monkey Mind that just gets louder and more obnoxious when I'm trying to be quiet. He laughed and made some sarcastic remark about nobody ever having expressed that problem to him before. I felt embarrassed and told him I would try harder. I would try my best. And he just laughed and shook his head and said don't try. Actually the translation is closer to don't fight. I thought about how much energy I had expended in my quest and how much better spent it might have been on my art or practicing taekwondo.

Instead of being all annoyed and swearing off men or re-doubling my efforts (and totally going the desperate route), I decided to do a big forgiveness ceremony. I forgave all those guys for wasting my time, for not being what I wanted or needed, and I even forgave Psycho Seattle for the mean things he said to and about me. Then I forgave myself for being so caught up in the drama, for letting myself believe (even for a moment) the lie that there is anything wrong with me, and in general for just not being gentle with myself. I can really be my own worst enemy sometimes.I also did some letting go. Why was I clinging so hard to having this specific experience? What was so important about dating the way I perceived "normal" people to date? What would it mean if I didn't, if I couldn't? Would I be a bad person or feel like an unwanted woman? Was I seeking some sort of validation? I didn't really know, but clearly it was time to think things through a little more thoroughly...to reassess what it was that I was really wanting.

So I decided to take a little dating vacation. I didn't set any specific timeline. I just decided to take a vacation. A vacation is a great time for self reflection. When you go on vacation you get to do what you want right? You get to plan fun excursions and get lost and stumble onto unexpected treasure. While on this trip, I found out that the empty void I'd been trying to fill was already full. I found me and reconnected with this uber cool life I'd been creating. I found a sense of joy...a deep centered feeling that is totally unrelated to anything external. I began to wake up happy for no particular reason. And with this renewed sense of vitality I went out and had fun. I finally learned how to meditate. I started painting more. I spent more time with friends. I got dolled up just for me. I even went dancing for the first time in ages. I danced until I got all sweaty and then laughed out loud because it just felt that good (and no I wasn't drunk). I danced and talked with strangers, but mostly with my friends, and it was great because I wasn't looking or thinking or feeling self-conscious or wondering what that hot guy was seeing when he looked at me. It was all irrelevant. I was still on vacation. And you would not believe how much I got hit on! But I liked the vacation so much I wasn't really trying to come back. Last Tuesday, after a solid month of being asked out by the same guy, I did come off of vacation for a nice dinner at Cedars...and he was sweet and it was decent, but I really think I'm ready to go back to just chillin' on my own for a bit more.Do I want to date? Sure...eventually, but for now I'm enjoying the trip.

The Show

So while I was at Santoro's...one of my favorite independent bookstores,I looked up and noticed some beautiful art. In passing I mentioned to the cashier that it was nice to see the art and she told me that they were now a part of the Greenwood Art Walk, but that she had no idea how she was going to find an artist for June. Sometimes life is just good like that :). I quickly volunteered my services and put together a show.

Santoro's Books is located on 74th and Greenwood, right next door to the 74th Street Ale House. The show kicked off last Friday with wine and mini cookies, but it'll be up until July...possibly August. All prices are negotiable. 10% of the proceeds will be donated to the Center for Spiritual Living and 90% will go towards my fabulous b-day trip to Ghana. I turn 30 in August and my mom and I would like to have a mother daughter celebration...it is the dream of my heart, and when you are supporting someone's heart dream, you can't really go wrong. If you are interested in purchasing some fabulous art, either head to Santoro's or email me at rejjarts@gmail.com .




Sushi


Twirl

Some New Stuff

My Logo


Come to me...


Bangs


3 Canoes

Graduation...all the things we leave behind

Last week I attended two very different lovely graduation ceremonies. The first was an intimate gathering called the Butterfly Ceremony. Held in gazebo in the southern field of the park by my school, I happened upon this special Kindergarten moment. Each child had been given a large butterfly that they had painted or decorated with different scraps of tissue paper until their cutout was just as unique as they were.

In the gazebo stood the two Kindergarten classes and their teachers and around them an audience of seated parents. Each child was presented with a certificate certifying that they were ready to "fly" to first grade. As the teachers announced each child,they took a moment to say something special about them, read a list of characteristics their classmates attributed to them and to share a special memory that the child had written down the week before. These memories ranged from getting play together at recess to getting to rock the mike at our Poetry Jam. It was a lovely moment, followed later in the week by the big graduation.

Last Friday was the last day of my first full school year and time for my entire school community to say goodbye to our fifth graders. The gym was filled with fifth grade parents. There was a make shift stage set up for the graduates and two large tables heavy laden with cupcakes and doughnuts. I had never been to my school graduation before. My boss was all dressed up in cap and gown, but everyone else was just in formal wear, including the fifth grader. As it came closer to time, I noticed the children from other grade gathering outside the gym. Upon investigation, I learned that one of our traditions is to have a goodbye celebration archway. The archway is made of up of students and teachers who grab arms, much like London bridges....only done with the entire school. Everyone lined up in front of the door to the gym and when we spotted the fifth graders coming from the other building, somebody turned on a children's CD with a celebration song...and to my amazement the entire school began to sing..."We celebrate, Today we celebrate..."

And then one by one the fifth graders passed through the archway into the gym. There was a slide show and a reading poetry created by the fifth graders about their school experience. Then they were presented with diplomas and a before and after shirt with their Kindergarten picture on the front and their fifth grade picture on the back. There were speeches and jokes and at the end, children from every grade presented the fifth graders with a flower and a well wish for their future. Tear. And then, when the children from the other grades had left, all the specialists (non-grade level teachers like me who teach these kids art, music, Spanish, computers, and PE for all 6 years) got to give flowers and hugs to the graduates. By this time I was crying and many of the fifth graders were crying and it was a beautiful mess. Then they were asked to give their bouquets to their parents, with thanks for supporting them through this journey...and like that, what we had started together ended...and I found myself thinking about all the times I've graduated.

I've made a lifetime habit of finishing things and leaving them behind, but it isn't often that I'm the one left behind. It reminded me of why I didn't really want to be a teacher...you get your heart broken repeatedly. But I guess that's the nature of all things. We come, we learn, and then we leave it all behind...