Performing or Authenticing?

Why is it called performing and not authenticing?

At my best and truest...I am loud...and pretty funny. And I like me that way. I tell corny jokes and make smart remarks that make you laugh 5 minutes later because it just connected in your brain that I actually said what you thought I said...and it was funnier than you realized. I don't miss much in the verbal and nonverbal interplay in a room or at a table. (Ooooh, Lord, especially at the table!) This is interesting because my light seems to have several settings. Most of the time, I am a Tiffany lamp - shaded and providing a specific arc of gentle light. I can bring a warm glow to the room just by shining on others in the room. Most of my days are spent in that polite light space. I scale back and hold in the supernova that is on standby. You see, most of the time, I feel like I am in someone else's space and so I fold over onto myself and quietly wait for my literal 'time to shine'. If you pay attention to space and energy, you will find that there is always a delicate interplay at work. Some people try to ramp up their wattage and others need to be stoked to allow their light to burn brighter. I already know that as a child born under a fire sign, I can provide a warm glow or I can burn it up from the basement to the roof...(the roof, the roof, the roof is on fiyah! We don't need no water, let the....burn!). So, I typically opt to just let the embers glow instead of letting the fire run wild.

The other day, I let the fires burn a little bit more brightly and it did not go unnoticed. We were out in public and I was so excited to see my people that I could not contain myself. I laughed, told jokes, reminisced and tried desperately to use my inside voice but like the little girl at the table, I did not WANT to use my inside voice. There was too much positive energy at the table for that. I have to contain myself for the sake of others all to often. I wanted to be excited to be with these people. I wanted to be loud, funny and authentic. I know that other people in the dining area might have felt like I was in their space but to me, it felt like one big party and we all were sharing the space. My loud and funny was not at anyone's expense, so it could have been one huge celebration of life as far I was concerned. We did not know the other people in the room but that has never stopped me before. These days, knowing people is just a matter of making an introduction...and with the shrinking of the 6 degrees of separation, we were probably connected anyway. Come on! You've never made eye contact with the people at the next table in a restaurant? Seriously? (But you have 12 billion virtual friends on social media? Umm...okay...no judgement! Life is meant to be lived in person, not just in likes and comments and double-tap hearts! More on that later...)

I make these notes to make this statement...why is it that we refer to our "stage presence" as performing? When I am 'on stage' as a poet or as a preacher and sometimes, even in the classroom, I am at my most authentic. Life, for me is a series of performances and the so-called performances should be called authentics....because those are the times that I am in my truest skin. Shakespeare is credited with the saying "all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players" and isn't it funny that it appears in a play entitled "As You Like It"? I like it best when I can fill a room with the real me and know that it doesn't necessarily outshine anyone else in the room...it just adds to the brilliance that was already there. I do not seek to compete or burn anyone out. But be advised...like wildfire, I can sweep through a room quickly and completely or like a candle, I can offer my flame to one waiting to shine. (I like this one...there will be more on this subject later. Meanwhile...burn, baby, burn!) I am moving from performing to living a more authentic life. Please don't adjust your television or computer screen. The real Miss Jones is about to stand up!

yesterday's affirmation

I received a loving affirmation yesterday.

It caught me off guard because it came in the midst of a moment of self-doubt. I must confess that in many ways, I am a textbook example of a control freak/recovering victim. For example, I embrace my quirky controlling behaviors because I am aware that I am still trying to bring back the balance that was disturbed years ago when power was taken from me. I have finally learned that it is not a zero sum game and so every time I thought I had a grip on this thing, something else would happen and I would find myself back in the red with regard to my sense of "power". So, in order to manage that chaos, I found ways of creating stability for myself. These habits have come to shape many of the things that I do on a daily basis. These habits require great discipline and often great sacrifice but when I look at what I am "sacrificing" I am forced to consider what is really important in my life. I may miss a social outing for the sake of keeping my home "guest ready" by cooking and cleaning. I may decline my own credit card by avoiding Loehmann's or Marshall's for the sake of keeping utilities paid. I can't remember the last time I took myself out for dinner...just because...instead of rationalizing that it would be easier to just eat what is already in the fridge.

The crazy thing is that when I operate outside of my well controlled environment (which can be as simple as getting off of the train one stop early and walking from 42nd to 34th in search of the perfect samosa to eat on my way home), I am able to easily return to those patterns that have given me structure and safety. Even now, getting on this train and heading into New York and waiting to dial into the prayer call helps me to manage the underlying fear that I will get dizzy and need to take my little yellow pills that make the world stop spinning. I pay my bills and don't borrow against tomorrow for things like clothes and shoes so that when I flip that switch, there will be light. I may not like what the light reveals but at least the darkness is an option and not a stark reality. Going to work and coming home gives structure to my day. Praying in the morning gives structure to my day. Planning meals gives structure to my day. Even this act of writing and publishing daily adds another level of structure to my day. All of these things keep the day from running away from me. (I know...it won't really happen that way...it just feels like it.) What would happen if I didn't do these things? Would my world fall apart? Would the earth stop spinning? Certainly not. But for now, this is how it works.

I worry sometimes that my obsession with security will be my undoing but yesterday, I was reminded that there is good even in this quirk of mine. My life may not have the glamour of another's and it may not have what looks like the spontaneity of another's but it provides a place of peace and solace to someone I love...and that's good enough for me.

Shalom

apology to my gift

Oh, my gift! I have abandoned you. I have not watered you or given you any sunlight. I have neglected to commune with you. I have not pinned phrases to my heart nor have I been faithful to give you exercise and you have atrophied. I used to feed you delicacies and now I have starved you with drops of water and crumbs from the life that has captured me. I have chased the practical and exhausted myself to the point that you no longer make love to me in dreams. Sleep is no longer for dreams and clandestine meetings but to reset the overworked body that belongs to an artist. Where have the days gone? How can you still love me? You are still here! Atrophied, weary eyes tearing, barely breathing, blue for want of oxygen, cold, shivering and just looking at me with the look of one who has been abused and abandoned. I repent and beg your forgiveness.

Come, sit in my lap and let me feed you. Let me cut up fresh fruit and serve you from my fingertips. Let me make your cheeks fat and rosy again with the soul food of Aunt Toni and Aunt Alice and Mother Maya. Let me put Baldwin's balm on your bruises and let me love you back to life. I will wake with you again and lie with you and snuggle you again like I used to with pillow talk of Sweat, Mules and Spunk. I will look for you and listen for your faint voice. Close your sunken eyes and rest here in my breast. Let me breathe with you again until you remember the rhythm of our inhale and the pattern of our exhale. It won't be easy and I know I have to regain your trust but I promise, I remember how it used to be. I remember the promises I made. I left you behind to pursue...what? Work? That vampire! I'm working just enough for the city...not living, just working.

I love you and if you will allow me to return, I will be better. I will never forget my commitment to you. You have been faithful and I have been awful. Will you take me back? I want to do better. Let me love you. Let me show you how well I can love you again. Thank you for not leaving me. I love you.

Sunday's offering 11.11.12

Sundays are difficult writing days. This is usually because there are dinner preparations, surprise visits, worship services and if I am careful, there is also time for blessed quietness. What I find in my quiet time is often so beautiful that I am afraid to put it on display because it may be damaged or mishandled. Or like most art, it may be misunderstood. The quiet time is a space to deal with the blessings and the demons that have danced in my head all week. The quiet place is a place of triage where I re-member my dismembered self and look for my severed limbs and put myself back together again. This blessed quietness is the place where "I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses." In this space, I can work on forgiving and accepting forgiveness. In this space, I can work on loving and being loved unconditionally - which is really overwhelming when I pause to look at what it means to love ME unconditionally. In this space, I make room for the still small voice that calls me to my life's work. In this space, I am by myself but never alone. In this space, I am...

Saturday Prayer

Dear God,
This morning, I want to offer my gratitude. I want to say thank you for the ways in which people are helping each other out under the guise of "just doing my job." I am grateful for the ways in which systems work well and for the ways in which people are and have been prepared to handle the two storms that have hit the east coast. I am grateful for those who work long hours and eat meals prepared by the Red Cross and FEMA. Their lives have been turned upside down as well but they are giving their all for the sake of others. I guess you know a little something about that. I mean, we would all pitch in to help someone we know. We might even give an extra dollar here and there at the grocery store to help the food bank or to put our name on a shoe or balloon for some disease. But what I am seeing firsthand is a remarkable display of competence and ability in the midst of disaster. I have the luxury of looking on from the comfort of my living room. I get to simply send and respond to text messages and wait for a chance to do more than just encourage the heroes. I get to decide whether I have the energy to do one more thing for someone else in an already overcrowded day of service. They are on the job every day until the job is done and although they may get paid for their work, the money does not compensate adequately for their heart's offering.

These folks are heroes in my eyes. I pray that you would keep them healthy as they move into dangerous and hazardous spaces. I pray for their safety as they move to reconstruct homes and structures. I pray that their brief rest - often on cots and trailers - would be deeply restorative. I pray that their families would not feel the loss of their presence but would feel honored to share their hero with those who are in need. I pray that (as you promised) you would keep their minds in perfect peace. I can't imagine staring at disaster every day. I can't imagine having to stare at chaos and know that it is my responsibility to bring order to it again. I pray for those charged with administrative tasks - that every dollar be properly accounted for and that people would be fairly compensated. I pray that cracks in systems would be sealed so that nothing and no one would fall through. I pray that egos would be put aside and that loving hearts, able bodies and competent minds would be engaged. I pray that those at the mercy of the generosity of others would find perfect peace. I pray that those who need medication would have what they need. I pray for those with mental illnesses - diagnosed and undiagnosed. I pray that those with a heart to help would have the competence to refer out when it's out of our hands. I pray for professionals to be professional - competent and compassionate.

I pray for those who give and pray for those who receive. I pray that those of us who know, love and trust you would act like it...in whatever form that may take. I pray that we would keep the focus on those who need and not on how wonderful we are for doing that which you have called us to in the first place. I'm thanking you in this moment for watching over all of us. I'm thanking you for keeping us. I'm thanking you right now for just hearing the cries of your people. I'm thanking you in advance for whatever good will come from this. I'm thanking you for all of the new that will come now that the old has been washed away. I'm thanking you for just being a big enough God...

Thank you for the call to tikkun olam.
Thank you...
Thank you...
Thank you...

What's On A Name

Dale Carnegie's 6th Human Relations Principle is this: Remember that a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language. This is what I am reflecting on as I remember that I know who I am supposed to be by what I hear you call me. When I hear "Mom" then I know what role to play. When I hear "MizJooooones" I know where I am and who I am. When I hear "Boo" I know it's none other than Miss LaKeisha Hayes calling my name! (Yeah, that's a blog entry unto itself!) When I hear the childhood nickname derived from my middle name, I know I'm talking to kinfolk.

It occurred to me today that I recently had the chance to introduce myself to some people who used their artist's moniker instead of their "government." Interesting. All of my avatars have names except my artist. The preacher is Reverend Jones, Revvie Rev, Reverend Sister, Reverend Mommy and sometimes Reverend Carla (which I still don't really like but I'm not sure why just yet). The educator is Miss Jones, MissJones(WHO?), Jonesey, Mi'Jones (you gotta hear Lasal say it to really understand that one), the ever incorrect Mrs. Jones (That would be my mama! Now stop it!), Professor Jones and "Miss" - which will earn you an ignore and an eyeroll. To my friends, I am Bestie, Jooooones, CeeJay, Coorla (Yeah, another Jersey shore pronunciation that you have to hear to appreciate...I may have to make this one an audio blog just so you can really feel me on this one!), Soror, Sis, Baby Sis, Big Sis, Twiiiiiiinnnnn, Twinlet, and there are a few others that I won't list just because they are mine and I don't have to. (And because some of the family in-house names dropped by my parents might offend your PC sensibilities. Okay, you really wanna know? There was Big Dummy, Bean Pole, Cancer, Skinny Minnie, Nappy Head, and a few that include the infamous N word but I'll leave those for the unauthorized biography.)

As an aside, I absolutely hate it when I am in the store using a card and the salesperson takes the liberty of assuming that my pleasant demeanor while handing over my hard earned money is a permission slip for familiarity. Don't you call me by my first name without an invitation! You don't know me. I am Miss Jones to you! Carla? How dare you? Just because your name tag has your first name, that's not my issue. I appreciate your gratitude for my choice to shop in your store, but if you call me Carla again and you'll be calling a manager to void the sale...ya hear?

Carla is by invitation only. It wasn't until this morning that I really realized it. I received a message the other day that used my name in a way that caught my attention. I know that the popularized question is what's in a name but I wonder (as a foodie) what's on a name? When I read the message, I immediately heard the person saying my name and it moved me. Suddenly, the name that I have worn all my life took on a different shape. Suddenly, I felt the meaning of my own name. Carla means strong and if you've ever seen me in action on a good day with my game face in place...you already know my parents knew what they were doing. But when I read my own name nestled near a comma, I heard it in a whole new way. Carla. Hmm...yes, finally, I was able to hear the sweetness that had been laid on my name.

Don't misunderstand, I am not suggesting that I have never heard my name spoken in a moment of intimacy where it was clearly drenched in honey and probably a few drops of sweat. (Heh, heh! That's a blog for another day too!) This wasn't any kind of sexual intimacy...but it was as if I really heard my name for the very first time...all over again. Hmm...perhaps my artist doesn't need a name. Maybe the name is indicative of who the artist really is. Say my name as if it invokes the muse and I will respond as one who has been inspired. Yes, lay that sweetness on my name and I will create for you because I can't help but be who you are calling me to be. In a typed message with nothing but black letters on a blue background, I was baptized into myself. Yes, the sound of my sugar coated name as it pushed up on that comma...that was indeed the sweetest sound I've heard all week. And I thank you.


Shalom

vertigo - part one

Vertigo

Vertigo is my newest nemesis. If you have never experienced it, let me explain. Remember when you were little and you and a friend would hold hands and spin around and around at a dangerous speed until you couldn't stand anymore and you would fall onto the ground and watch the sky rock back and forth until it stopped? Fun, right? Yeah, well imagine that you're just on the ground watching the sky rock back and forth and it doesn't stop. That's not fun. But it is vertigo. It feels like the whole world has pulled you into its rotation and taken gravity out of the equation and so if you could float, you might feel relief, but in the meantime, you're just disoriented and dizzy. Oh, and it feels like your head is a Magic * Ball that shows the answer in your eyes. The little answer thingie reads: Reply hazy, try again or Outlook not so good right now.

I had my first blind date with vertigo over 10 years ago and all I remember is that one minute I was standing and the next, I was falling to the ground a little at a time. First standing. Then sitting. Then collapsed on the couch and finally rolled onto the floor but there was no relief to be found. The EMT came to take me off to Monmouth Medical Center where they gave me some drugs that made me sleepy and in a little while, I was fine for another 7 years. On and off every now and then just seemingly out of nowhere, the dizziness comes and if I catch it in time, 2 little yellow tablets of Dramamine should allow me to remain on my feet. Like most diseases, this seems to have studied me and found my weakness and now, vertigo can now take me down like David's smooth stone to Goliath's head. Now, vertigo doesn't respond to the medication quickly. Now, vertigo sends me to the ER where I get oxygen, an IV and the good drugs. Now, vertigo wakes me from a sound sleep into a spinning wakefulness. This will not do.

It used to be polite and follow the rules of engagement. Now, it seems to have gone Rogue! It hits when it wants. Even in the midst of a deep sleep! I've had every test that my doctor can think of. On Monday, we will discuss the results of this most recent test - that made me sicker than I have ever been! It made e dizzy, nauseous, and it gave me a headache. I wonder if this is God's way of reminding me that I am not in control and I need to trust. Hmm...we shall see. Vertigo will not have the final word!