confessing sins...facing my accoutablity, and granting myself forgiveness

age 5-7 are the wonder years when life unfolds and defines life for a child
age 5-7 based on science, mythology, and nature is when magic is suppose to happen building blocks in the brain are formed...and the personality is set, a child builds their life and the mind structures from what happens from 5-7.
So my question is what does life look like for a child if 5-7 is filled with perpetual abandonment, neglect, and abuse in the name of love....do the math..
I spent my wonder years in Fear.



When my mother uprooted me from stability and ran again. This time Arkansas I was 5 and his name was Joe. This is where my life took a turn, although my mother ran in the name of protecting me from her abuser she ran right into mine. He did not sexually abuse me, he preferred torture, pain, and humiliation. Next it was Texas at the age of 7 where I was frequently left alone in strangers home while she went out partying with friends. Finally last stop Los Angeles CA at 9 where I was "raised". This journey of my mothers "running" has shaped a lot of my being for the worst and it was expected that I'd fail... but I had an Angel of Mercy looking out for me... my Aunt Lavan Morrison (My Aunnie). My Aunt Lavan is the middle daughter of my grandparents 7 children.

When alone stuck to a motel table in Atlantic City NJ at the age of 2 she answered the phone call, at the age of 6, she terrified to fly, took a plane to Pine Bluff Arkansas the day the County came to evict my Mother and Joe and hand me over to Child Protective Services. Aunnie took me into custody... my mother signed me over.
When visiting Chicago once when I was 12 my aunt served as a "silent liaison" arranging an inconspicuous meeting with my father and his family.

I remember being relatively happy when living with my Aunt I made great friends! But most nights I would cry myself to sleep wishing for my mother. Feeling helpless Aunnie called my mother and her reply "she is old enough to do dishes and clean now... I'll get her" Off to Little Rock Arkansas. Charles was a better man than Joe.

Moms and I eventually laded in Los Angeles. It was around this point my mother converted to Buddhism, it is what provided me focus and discipline to be a courageous young woman, courageous to be everything my mother was not. I started to see/feel/chant my "way out" of her cycle. An Education. I strongly believe this was the best thing my mother ever did for me. At 17 I was accepted to Clark Atlanta University... and it was my aunt and father who called and made sure I was eating, and taking care if myself, it was my Aunt who helped me get my first apartment off campus. It was my Aunt, Father, and Uncle who served as my parents.

5-7 the emotional scars did not go away
7-11 I hid them...
11-16 I swallowed them and yelled shoulder's? back! chin's? up! eyes? bright! and what else? a smile! The Young Womens' Division Buddhist auxiliary group for girls (I attended every sunday Sun up to Sun Down...that was our courage call.

but once 19 and legal
I tattooed and pierced my pain beautiful
I drugged my pain a daily ethereal trip down the rabbit hole. left me feeling whole
I drank my pain uninhibited to say exactly what I felt
I fucked my pain boy and girl.. searching for the reflection.. a glimpse of light to call my love and cast a Shadow over my darkness.



I was left alone to rely on my own dysfunctional devices to define love
used my lovers heart as my springboard
forgive me CLS,KL,HW,KUA,SSW,NH,RTLW,MM,and SM I was clumsy and fell many times your reflections were the brightest. I contemplate if we could have ever found a resing place, I thought we hid our secrets well.
Because there are no victims, everything is divine, I trust the Universe immensely I have no real regrets just moments of questions
Offer me a moment of forgiveness as I confess my sins.

And for the record I have appreciation for my mother. These confessions are not an attack on her, I am being honest with myself for myself. Making an effort to lessen my karmic retribution so my daughter lives free.That's the work. I feel victorious she reminds me that regardless I am victorious.
I don't know how to carry regret
I do not know what that feels like
but i did learn how how to become restless and impatient with
outcomes and expectation
I've tucked years of anxiety and shame of failing away
ignored it
never looked back..Ran
I'm confessing my efforts have been in false vain
a vanity not my own but my mothers. Granted accomplishing her dreams and making her proud ... It has given me a grand platform to stand. I appreciate it and I have repaid my debt.
I never asked for fortune or fame
I asked for a love and legacy.
this is the reason for my distance at functions
my premature indigestion of love and fear
I haven't learned unconditional.
and this feeling has been tucked in my belly since 5
and has surfaced as an auto immune malfunction
My immune system now attacks my nervous system
Even though I am brave
I've never been a coward
often just as scared as that 5 year old awaiting her day of torture to descend upon her.
Creating Art is my self-soothing method

Its my party and I'll cry if...

This photo, my last birthday party at my grandmothers house. My grandmother, a seamstress, made everyones dress up clothes, not just in our house but in our entire neighborhood. She could copy the dresses in ebony and jet magazines... It was just a known fact that whatever Van Jones she touched it was going to be golden.


I was born on the Southside of Chicago at Little Company of Mary Hospital. We lived at 115th and Justine in Maple Park.


This birthday was my last at my grandmothers house before my moms left and we went to Pine Bluff Arkansas.

My Birthday Party on June 25 I977 @ 11537 JUSTINE was special. Our house was notorious for parties. Block Parties, Church Parties, After Fashion Show Parties, Spade parties, Drinking Parties, any-kind of party, my grandmother hosted it...but on his day it was My party.


Grandma made me my very own floor length white eyelet dress. Properly accessorized with Snoopy b day hat, 2 pigtails. barrettes and pink ribbons. (Peep the side part). The guest list My Aunt R with baby J, My Uncle W, my Great Grandma Crutchfield and my big cousin D. Of course all my neighborhood homies... Binki, Flossy, CoCo, Nikki and Cheeky ...say somethin!I guess you didn't know. This was my O/G crew my O/G tribe. We use to run up and down the block and dare each other to break the rules ...the rules 1) Don't step, walk, or run on anybody's lawn, 2) don't ring anybodies bell more than 3 times, 3) don't yell to or out the window from/to the street and 4) don't leave the block!

So when we got 25 cents for a brown bag of penny candy (our idea of a shopping spree) to the corner "candy store" it was a privilege. The candy store was one block up and a half a block over, in "the old lady who smelled funny" living room, but this moment was like our voyage to another world. This moment was our liberation. Coco was the oldest so she was in charge. We'd all hold hands and make a mad dash across the street, up the block, and around the corner. But best believe on every given day Mr. Medlock (coco's grandfather) was watching us from a distance and would report you to the authorities if you broke any of the rules along the way... . "oh what you gon get...I'mma get some wine candies green (jolly ranchers)..and some Bazookas, ooh an a chico stick, some salt n sours, some now n laters purple, oh and don't forget the blow pop the green one you gon need it when we do cheers later". These are my last my memories of pure joy before my world fell apart. I still enjoy simple pleasures.


In finding some pics recently, I learned that big cousin D (my proverbial big cousin of torment... come on every little cousin has one) come to find out she was repeatedly sexually abused by her father, my Uncle J who was also my mothers abuser. Uncle J was my grandfathers brother, my grandfather, who also was an alcoholic and woman beater. Obviously the Jones' men had some very serious problems with drinking and domestic violence. My grandfather kicked my grandmothers ass! I've heard it was cause she was beautiful, successful, flirty, and adored. A ghetto superstar.This explains why my grandma pioneered and got a divorce, honestly all this trauma has never been addressed in the Jones family. That's why I'm doing this, putting it all out there cause its time, also it's a valid part of my story to tell as well... call it a domino effect hanging from a string theory. Growing up in a house of violence masked with images of perfection, " the Jones' I was a pretty child so my pain was always over looked. As a child guess I start to believe thats what love was. Pain, Abuse, and Violence hiden under a perfect smile.

My Cousin D and I, we use to play "house" she'd play the daddy and I'd play the mommy... that I didn't mind that so much it felt nice, and to this day I still enjoy a nice game of "house". But learning this information about her daily life and what was going on in her home, totally explains why after we played "house" Cousin D would kick my ass. I understand now. She was a child emulating what she saw at home. I completely understand my moms fears and desires to leave. She felt she was making the right choice for her despite the fact that she did uproot me from my stability and ran away. I'm sure most mothers would have done the same thing. So this time she ran to Pine Bluff Arkansas. I was 5 and his name was Joe. This is where my life took a turn, although my mother ran in the name of protecting me from Uncle J, she ran right into the arms of my abuser and called it love. It's what she knew. I think Joe came with all the promises my father never made. When filing in the blanks I've learned and saw pictures proving my mother had the choice. She could've left me with my his family but she chose not to because it wasn't a package deal. Plus taking me away would hurt my fatherand my family just as they hurt her. Thankfully Joe did not sexually abuse me, no he preferred torture, beating, and humiliation. I had never experienced that kind of abuse before except at the hands of my 8 year old cousin. I guess she was preparing me for it. But Joe was not a confused * year old girl. He was a grown man. It was different.


I bring this into the equation with some acceptance, apparently this was all predestine to happen there are no victims right? I am not festering angrer per se cause it is in the past, but I can only observe it in retrospect and learn from it. I haven't reached total balanced place of forgiveness that my mother ignored the fact that I was being severely physically abused right under her nose for the "love" of a man. That's disapointing. But I am acknowledging it, exposing it, and healing from it. I can no longer hold on to this trauma, I can move though it for the love of myself. I get to make a choice now. I know she did the best she could but it's not too late to take responsibly for it. What I have learned from this is to be aware, never overlook a child crying out for help. I listen to them, especially when in pain. Don't brush it off "as a get over it". I feel allowing a child to be to abused for selfish gain is a sin. I was uprooted, stolen, and denied my fathers love cause it was not extended to my mother. I guess she thought a stranger would do it better. Please let this be a call to single mothers out there who play games of self serving manipulation. Get over yourselves its possible your babydaddy is just not that into you... just cause the baby came from you it is not you. His love for the baby is not to be confused with his love for you... especially if your unfit and unstable caught up on the hype. Check yourself. Please stop co-opting the babies needs as your own. Just cause he might be there for his kid... it dosen't mean he has to be there for you. Just the child. Please don't make the child suffer from your immature insanity. A kid deserves to experience and get to know both parents. Now if either parent... mother or father... is a down right dirty dog the child will figure it out..time will reveal the truth. But Mothers I pray that we can set our false pride aside and shower that child with love and acceptance. My blessing is I have utilized this experience to eradicated these causes my mother made by being one of the best parents to my daughter. Showing her a loving relationship with her father without being in love with him. I could have easily repeated a cycle but I'm thankful didn't. She currently resides with her father In Paris.

holding my truths to be self evident

There are really big problems in the world and to further discuss my own life makes me feel narcissistic. Yet on the other hand, I can only share my personal truth, my personal reasoning about life in general and how I relate to the world. The way I see it is.... I only have control over myself , and at my age and physical capabilities, I am the one thing I can change in the world. I am choosing the path of fighting my personal Human Revolution, I am flawed by human error so I do kick my own ass (I have fight club moments) I pray my attempt to make a difference in my own life, becomes synonymous with making a contribution to making a difference in the world. (especially for colored girls when I say colored I mean black brown red blue yellow green and pink). I pray my method of changing/shifting my family Karma is as effective as my mentors Buddhist Scholar Daisaku Ikeda.


I love and honor those who really "see" me, I even love and honor the ones who underestimate me, and mistake my openness for weakness...shame on you... but thank you for showing me who you are and you will get to know/see me in time....I'm sure there was a day when we both agreed and enjoyed each other.


Now, my contributions... I pray they assist on a profound level cause the shit I shovel through daily is pretty profound. All i know how to do is share, give, and love. and i am learning boundaries. There are so many languages in the world...so to speak a shared language is awesome. To find the communal connectivity of a tribe is truth of ones worldliness. I like to think of myself as A Tribal Multilingual and Translator.

For every state I have lived in I have gravitated to my tribe.


Today I am recluse by choice. Winter is a war. I am hibernating and rehabilitating. Spending my days Cross intersecting my Life Theory with Philosophy, Religion, and Science with Mathematics, Cosmology, and Sacred Ideology with Hip Hop, Feminism, Cultural Anthropology and Visual Aesthetics and Color Theory ... life is art. I hold my truths to be self evident. I make my most earnest attempts to practice objectivity, but even when I am being objective, my tolerance levels fluctuate from a very low tolerance for mediocrity to a very high expected discernment. I've been told I'm very all or nothing... yet I'm the most flexible and person I know. I observe then make choices. simply complex. people call that judging. I'm not judging... if your right or wrong good or bad that's your call.. own it. I am praying we all take a hard look at ourselves No one is perfect at best we can be honestly self-aware. So really what I'm doing is choosing..choosing if the actions and choices you make (based on your display of charter) will best serve me....always DO YOU.. and please be authentic. own it! Confess that we are learning. really we all have something to learn. At this point the peacefulness of a tribe is when you don't have to dissect to figure these conclusions. With a tribe your mind, body, and heart can be still you honor see and feel how you are one. There is time to laugh, eat, pray, smile. and Exhale.


I miss the exhale.

Bartered it in southern towns as a spiritual frequency

of currency

of glory for pre paid earnings

of

post-disposition, anxiety, and disillusionment.

These days I feel detached, displaced, and shipwrecked

To breathe deep

is now accompanied by tears

both silent in their existence

holding my breath

as not to scream under water.

emotional tidal waves

oxygen tank

masked

in panic and anguish

In an attempt

to took a jump upward

briefly crossed paths with a former lifeguard

took it as a highly favored sign (along with two others)

that he could see me drowning

and teach me how to swim

I made the conclusion it's what he was trained to do

but that was too long ago

to apply it to current circumstance

I feel we all have the compassion to take all people into consideration w/o the intent of self serving manipulation.

Blessed be these four corners

These are calculated versions of my own personal thought process.... mixed with Celtic cross tarot claims, Buddhism, and African veve cosmology ....add Newton's Laws of gravity and Plato (I'm into Newton, and Plato and Nichiren just as much if not more than I'm in to Jay-Z, T.I., and Fiona Apple and oh yeah..I also love schematics and geometry ... my favorite subject... this is how I figure out everything....I'm self taught remember ... My very own personal equation/road map to figure it out... life, motivations, intentions, everything.... when I'm wrong I'll admit it... I realize this is too much... this has to be the reason my brain is frying.....so if I'm giving you the blank stare mid convo..this is why...my inner workings of the conversation ... you can gauge the outcome by my love for you... when everything in the water computes so to speak...Ignorance was bliss it was quiet and simple... only time the noise stops is when I'm Chanting, Making Art or Making Love, or having a great conversation about art and valid politics...not Tiger Woods but real social change and real Passion for it...and really there are no divisions...Jay-Z is Newton and T.I is Plato and all of us are Nichiren....and Making Passionate GREAT Love is Making Passionate GREAT Art and that is Social Change cause the world is having a really hard time loving right now.
I prayed for clarity but I think I got clairvoyancy...

(N)ORTH=AIR=HEAVEN=ABOVE=MIND= ENLIGHTENMENT Clarity and wisdom
(S)OUTH=EARTH=BELOW= ANCESTOR =EARTH=SPIRIT DWELLERS==FEET
(E)AST=FIRE =FUTURE x BRIGHTNESS+MOTION ...Think feet walking on hot coal....
(W)EST=WATER=PAST=An anxious twitch in my stomach... yoga helps....

just to get by

There are ghost of transparent regret that haunt me. Casting shadows often hidden in the corners of my heart and tucked in the folds of mind, never latent on my smile. I purposefully create images that hold an arms distance between my heart and my viewer. Protecting my constant defense. I often yearn to be offensive and wide open. The images are beautiful on purpose. They mask the honesty of my suffering encoded in the obvious. It is rare to experience a moment of surrender ...it is rare to feel safe. Looking through the pictures I rarely smiled with her ...I rarely held her hand.... It's most likely the damaged trust issue embedded in her rapid ability to vacate the premises.

Now habitually I repeat the cycle and provide the love an exit route. I struggle to trust myself to love. My actions are often clumsy and uncensored. I've been self taught for primarily everything... often blind like finger tips to braille following the sound of loose change rolled up dimes sculpted by false destiny and soap opera dreams deferred... too fragile to ask for help. The disappointment of others hurt much more than disappointing myself...the fear of being too exposed too vulnerable. So today I wear it all on my sleeve. All of this well versed in the perfect amount of paranoia and pain. Often exchanging a piece of my fortune for a spectators love an admiration. When what was entitled to me by birth was denied. unconditional love. It became my responsibilty to make our life perfect thus making her life perfect......children can not afford to be lived through vicirously until they have a life all their own to live through.

Chopped and Screwed

today: december 12th 2009.

then: december 12th 1971

my parents made love

my mother:

for the first time

finally touched

by a man she consented this time to enter her

my father:

a sleek and smooth two feet and 8 wheels

picked women at his leisure... for his leisure think (sweetness in roll bounce)

me a nebula

on this day we picked each other and in 1972 our worlds collided.

my mother wanted to marry my father

says she was in love

my father could not afford to marry her

she wanted the finer things at 16

my mother:

she is still holding on to that hurt now with anger

she is still holding on to the fantasy coated in the fog of delusion

she watched soap operas

handed me coloring books

shhh do not disturb her

my father was suppose to show up

and be her everything

he did not save her

from her own domestic demise

so she went bitter

I learned today he did show up

it was taken for granted

he did not show up

and meet her exact expectations

but meeting a responsibility was offered

she rejected as not good enough

NO ring

NO house

NO car

NO wedding

she took me and ran

she ran in the name of protecting me

they called her unfit

they called her too many names to bounce back from

Atlantic city New Jersey:

alone

abandoned in rented in motel rooms

on broad walks

stuck to tables eating maple syrup

while she went to work

and 'Danced"

phone call made by a neighbor to home

come get the baby

Custody battle later...

Open letter to self

Today is my conception date.


I am celebrating by starting this blog.


My fathers birthday December 11


My mothers birthday December 13


to celebrate their birthdays on Dec 12 1972


I was made me.


6 months later I arrived. prematurely weighing in


at 2 pounds and 13 ounces


of my mothers 5 pregnancies thereafter


I was the first and only one to survive





I was known as "The Miracle Baby".





I have heard


how you are born into this world is a predestine contract defining how you will live your life.


I believe all of us have a divine mission .... the "journey" is employed to discover it.





So, with that...I landed here prematurely to parents


both reckless in teenage tendencies


...and fighting for my life right out of the womb.


So in retrospect


yes


I have habitually pushed through a lot of portals prematurely to arrive fighting for my life, my perception, my constitution, my art, and my love.
(I will explain my truth with that at a later entry.)


I have habitually clung, dated, and fallen in love with people (men and women) unavailable and/or incapable of extending adequate and/or nurturing love by default... and if they were adequate I pushed them away and ran in fear...we often attract what we reflect, we reflect what we know... hence I did not know how to love properly. (I'll get into what my environment dictated over the course of the blog.. just follow me)

i wish to honestly explain how... I made it all up as I went along.

My observations were my guide. my emotions to became my dictator. I was not privileged to the reliance of parental stability.


I am 37 and just now am confronting the mandate of owning, honoring, and defining my purpose for me... not for my mother, not for my daughter, and not for the man or woman i am loving.


Oh, I was also born in mercury retrograde.


While most people cringe at the thought of retrograde


for me for those 7-23 days


I feel aligned. my purpose, my core,my being vibrates, my head is clear, and I love it!

when most feel off I'm on
when most feel on I'm off
I think this is why I get along with Geminis

Disclaimer...

...when i was little I started my coloring books from the back to the front.


...by starting this blog this is my attempt to bury the ashes of my past and clear up my future path of ghost.


...I'm starting this blog to honestly acknowledge the trauma, love, and success in my life


I am going to utilize this platform to be honest ...completely honest about everything including everyone. I promise not to hold back anything. (Names will appear in initial (MJ) or maybe a pet name) This blog will be my open book. and the truth will be told.





why? because I have buried a lot of trauma and emotion.


I've swallowed it whole and buried it in my gut
left wondering if my digestive tract even developed correctly

I lived in an incubator for the first 3 months of my life

I'm curious about that. I do know I passionately crave touch and I define my love based on a touch. an emotional touch, a mental touch, an artistic touch, I crave touch.

hence it is so embedded that


how I digest everything causes me discomfort


how i digest food


how I digest information'


how I digest encounters with people


and this blog is me projectile vomiting it all up.





why else? WOMEN ITS TIME FOR US TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING!!! This is my attempt to be a part of the change I wish to see and create a encouraging platform for women to feel safe to speak.

to get "it" all off our chest


out of our heads


and empty these cement store houses in our bellies


make it soft again free it back up for creation


creation of our art

creation of ourselves

creation of our babies


the way the goddess intended


before the men came.

join me on this journey

I pray that I am free so all beings are free
I pray that I am healhty so that all beings are healthy
I pray that I am aligned w/ my divine purpose so that all beings are aligned w/ divine purpose