This is my 6th year with the love of my life and future husband, Codi. We are apart right now because each of us had dreams and opportunities to pursue in different places. Being so far apart, with me in Brooklyn and him in San Francisco has definitely not been easy, but we've had 5 years of living together that strengthened our bond. He is quite literally my best friend and we've been there for each other through good times and bad.
He will eventually move to Brooklyn with me, and until then I have to hold down the fort by myself. I pray every day that circumstances will soon shift so that this move is possible, but I also have to take care of business on my end. That means being strong and devoting my energy to my creative pursuits, really pushing myself. Sometimes I'm incredibly lonely (New York is a very romantic place!), and when I feel that way, I focus on what I came here to do. I find a gallery opening to cover for my blog, a new artist to write about, work on my paintings and drawings, or throw myself into a good book. I try to spend as little time as possible feeling sorry for myself (although I have those moments too).

I have been moving around with this thought that brings me such comfort and clarity, but sounds so strange when I repeat it. It has helped me to process what I've been feeling the past few months. Everything was so very hard, strange, and sad. I felt lost, like I didn't know who I was or where I was going. I kept telling myself and others that I was "fighting off" depression, but it was only recently, after feeling some relief, that I was able to understand how deeply I'd fallen into it. The past couple of weeks I've been feeling like I just woke up, everything feels new, and I'm so grateful and appreciative of every little thing. The thought that came to me is that some withered part of myself--something I was clinging to--has died. And now that I've let that part die, there's a new part of me with more room to blossom.

2009 was a year of serious transition for me, and I have been trying to roll with it, to be at ease with myself, my cycles, and my feelings. I remind myself that every step on this journey--whether good or bad--is a lesson I can take with me. I moved back to this new (and yet so familiar) place, Brooklyn, not knowing what to expect. I was delighted to come here and find a group of kindred artist spirits. We share our work, exchange ideas, and collaborate. I've found new venues and opportunities to show my work, and I am having so much fun documenting shows and artists for Black Butterfly and societyhae.com. I feel myself flowering creatively in this place.
On the job front, I spoke up for myself and I'm happy to say I'm being transferred to another work site where my job will be more in line with what I signed on to do. I will be working in the development department of a food pantry, photographing events and writing for their website, writing letters, and doing all sorts of promotional communication work, which I'm very excited about. So I'm wrapping things up at the other place, and I'll be moving on soon.

Over the past 2 weeks, I have been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to leave my americorps site. I'm doing work that I love, but in an environment that is toxic. As things began to get worse under the direction of a power hungry and unstable person, I began to go through changes. Full blown anxiety attacks became a common occurrence for me (when I've never had one my whole life), my stomach is in painful knots a lot of the time, making it hard to eat. I've begun to feel depressed (something Ive always had to fight against sliding into).
Today was a particularly wretched day of seeing our best staff members being demoralized and pushed around. I sat in a corner of the office, trying to keep a piece of bread down after not eating all day, and trying not to let anyone see me crying. At the end of the day when I walked to the train, I said enough.

I'm literally standing at the crossroads now, with much more than I bargained for on my hands, good and bad. The good has made my heart sing, and has reminded me of why I am here, why I am alive and creating. So I'll start with that.

Last night was the opening reception for a group exhibition I was part of in Brooklyn. It's the most work I've ever shown at one time, and my first time exhibiting my works on paper. I was so nervous, because this work is a complete departure from my signature bright canvases. And I'm happy to say that people loved the work! One woman enjoyed it so much she gave me a big hug. I just got so much positive feedback and love from everyone.

On top of that, I received a video camera from societyhae.com in order to film exclusive arts content for their website. They liked what I was doing on Black Butterfly and reached out to me. So I've started filming arts events around the city. The blessings in my artistic life are so abundant right now, I can hardly believe it.

On a hot day this past summer, my friend and I sat on her rooftop in Brooklyn, laughing and talking. I was close to the ledge, and I laughed and leaned back a little too far for her comfort. "Watch yourself there! Because if you fall everyone will say I pushed you. They'll say I had just been waiting for the right moment!" I told her she was absolutely right, and we both dissolved into giggles.
Why would people think that one of my best friends would be out to get me? Because she is the wife of my ex-boyfriend, a man I was with for three years before I met Codi. When we split up, he moved to the East Coast and met her. I'd heard that he'd gotten married, and I thought his wife and his new life would remain a mystery to me, because that's how it usually works. Not in this case.

It has been an eye-opening couple of weeks in a lot of ways, and a shift in energy is beginning to occur in my life. Codi and I truly miss each other (he was supposed to fly out for my birthday, but his work schedule changed and they cancelled out the time off he had already put in for). He might not make it out here until January. But in all honesty, I'd rather have him be able to move than have a visit. But nothing has opened up at his airline on the east coast. We have both been praying on this a lot. Last weekend, I decided to go and make some offerings. I offered rum at a crossroads for Esu, since Codi is most likely a child of Esu. He has become closely connected with him over the past several months, which is exciting. Next I went to the edge of a lake and offered an orange and a pumpkin to Osun, both covered in honey. I prayed and asked Osun to send me my love. I opened up my Osun book and it landed on a page in my favorite essay all about African American women and their connection to Osun. The passage I landed on was a woman talking about how much Osun meant to her and had helped her grow in her career as a visual artist.

It has been an eye-opening couple of weeks in a lot of ways, and a shift in energy is beginning to occur in my life. Codi and I truly miss each other (he was supposed to fly out for my birthday, but his work schedule changed and they cancelled out the time off he had already put in for). He might not make it out here until January. But in all honesty, I'd rather have him be able to move than have a visit. But nothing has opened up at his airline on the east coast. We have both been praying on this a lot. Last weekend, I decided to go and make some offerings. I offered rum at a crossroads for Esu, since Codi is most likely a child of Esu. He has become closely connected with him over the past several months, which is exciting. Next I went to the edge of a lake and offered an orange and a pumpkin to Osun, both covered in honey. I prayed and asked Osun to send me my love. I opened up my Osun book and it landed on a page in my favorite essay all about African American women and their connection to Osun. The passage I landed on was a woman talking about how much Osun meant to her and had helped her grow in her career as a visual artist.

Ericka's article on taking measurable steps towards manifesting our dreams really hit home for me. I turn 28 in two weeks, and I'm taking stock of a lot of things. So much has been revealed to me as of late.
I'm now entering the 3rd month of my service year. I love the work that I'm doing, the staff, and the people we help. We assist people in transitioning from homelessness, and provide food and basic services for those who are still on the streets. It's very hard work, but also very rewarding.

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about the direction I want my life to take. I'll be 30 in 2 years, and there are many roads I could take.
Recently I got a reading from a Babalawo, and it was very favorable. We started to discuss what I wanted to do after my Americorps year, and he brought up postgraduate education. I told him that I was more interested in going into debt for something like a house than a degree at this point. He told me that was all well and good, but to not put obtaining material things first. He said that the education would open me up to a higher income bracket, and I would be able to pay off that student loan debt and begin saving for a house. I still wasn't convinced.

Lately I've been keeping to myself a bit more. Even when I'm out with friends, I''ve found myself longing for the comforts of home: cooking a meal, reading a book, or prayer time. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but suddenly being out with the girls didn't mean so much, and I'm a social person! I thought I was turning into a hermit. Then I read my yearly horoscope in my We'Moon calendar, and something stood out:
"Some solitude and downtime is essential, as much energy is occupied with deep internal processes and you must not be distracted from this work. Art and music assist in this deep diving, and dredging up profound and stunning impressions."

Lately I've been keeping to myself a bit more. Even when I'm out with friends, I''ve found myself longing for the comforts of home: cooking a meal, reading a book, or prayer time. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but suddenly being out with the girls didn't mean so much, and I'm a social person! I thought I was turning into a hermit. Then I read my yearly horoscope in my We'Moon calendar, and something stood out:
"Some solitude and downtime is essential, as much energy is occupied with deep internal processes and you must not be distracted from this work. Art and music assist in this deep diving, and dredging up profound and stunning impressions."

I am happy to say that my mother is going to be fine. Thank you for all your prayers and well wishes. The tumor is growing very slowly, and the doctor told her she doesn't even need to have surgery on it, they will kill it and shrink it externally with a gamma ray. He told her there's no hurry, so she's taking a long-term substitute teaching job (she's retired, but she still loves to teach) and will have the procedure done in September. Our whole family is so relieved and thankful.
Praying for my mother was the first time I really called on Obatala. I'm still learning about all the Orisas. I always give him honor, but this was the first time I really spoke to him directly. It was the day of my mother's doctor's appointment, and I found myself asking him to heal and protect my mother's Ori (head). And I asked Osun to protect her spirit. It felt so much better to put my energy there rather than into anxiety and worry. And now that everything's okay, I'm glad I did.

I'm just happy. I feel like finally, I've grown into myself. I was scared about the role I would take on at my new job (a leadership role, I'm shy and have never done that). But I ignored the fear and plunged right in. I found that I had a voice, and a head for solving problems and taking initiative. I never knew that, I was always scared. Every day I do more, talk to more people, and I love it.
Codi and I continue to plan for his move to New York, but in a much more concrete way. He has set a goal for himself when he arrives out here (to promote 12 musical acts), and is working on making more east coast business connections. We are making real plans, and I'm very excited. We have an open road ahead of us, and we're walking it together.

My friend Sydni (the one I visited in the ashram awhile back) is now a certified yoga teacher, and she does classes for all ages and levels of experience in the Bay Area. She and Codi have collaborated on her website:
http://www.yogameansunion.org/

And he recently shot these wonderful videos of her talking about yoga. I am so proud of them both, I just had to share :)

I'm so happy to say that I've arrived in Brooklyn and I'm all settled into my new space, a room in a beautiful brownstone in Bed-Stuy. My room is quite large and has a non-working fireplace, which is where I've set up my altars. Osun took the mantle and Sango the hearth below. I've never had a proper Sango altar, and I was so excited to create one here. He was a huge help in my transition. Osun helped make the journey smooth, and Sango helped me to focus my energy, to strategize and plan.Bed-Stuy is my favorite part of Brooklyn, and I'm so thankful that I'm able to live here, in a space with other artists. Even our landlady is an artist. She lives downstairs, and the backyard is full of her amazing ceramic creations: Black women's faces, some hanging on the fence, others which appear to be emerging from the grass. All of my friends are within walking distance, so I often go visiting. We've been enjoying long strolls and concerts in Prospect Park.

I'm so happy that my very first artist interview on Black Butterfly is with the very talented Karen Seneferu, one of my favorite Bay Area artists. She discusses her inspiration and creative process. I know we'll be hearing and seeing a lot more from Karen in the future! Read the full interview on my blog:
http://www.soulgoddess.blogspot.com

Lately I've been doing a lot of contemplation on the subject/state of Blackness. It has taken on so many different forms over the course of my life. It has been wielded against me as a weapon ("You're not Black enough, you're not a real Black person."), treated as something to be ashamed of, (stereotypes of Black folks as lazy and stupid), or as a very exclusive club you needed to have the right reading list and attire to belong to. I've watched people carry it as a weight, as if the struggle was our truth. What I realize now is, the struggle was never our truth, that was something other forces threw at us to try and break us down. Our truth has always been the joy, creativity, and love we birthed in spite of our struggle. Our truth is making a way out of no way, wearing a smile when those around us might say there's not a damn thing to smile about. We find beauty in the little things.
My own understanding, which I've struggled to hold onto as I sift through the din of voices and images telling me what I'm supposed to think about, is this:

Well the exhibition was Friday in Oakland, and it was wonderful! Beautiful art by so many of my friends and colleagues graced the walls, a jazz band played, poetry was read, and the place was packed with folks of all ages. There was so much love in that spot I was on a high :) Ebony Iman Dallas, who masterminded the event, has so many more amazing things planned for artists of African descent, she's just getting started, and plans to make this an international movement. If you'd like more information on getting involved, here is her website: http://www.eidart.com
Here's a brief video Codi shot of me talking about my piece at the exhibition. Please forgive all the nervous giggles, I'm still pretty camera shy :)

Today I'm preparing for what will be my last art show in the Bay Area for quite some time. As I was getting things ready, this little doubtful voice crept into my head, in regards to Monday's journey back to Brooklyn. It said, "what makes you think this time will be any different than the last?" I had a fearful moment, and then another resounding voice said, "because this time you are fully participating in your life!" With that thought, I brightened. It was true. I began reflecting on the work I'd done over the past 6 months in California.
The truth is, in many ways I was living my life from the sidelines. I was surrounded by a wonderful circle of artists, thinkers, educators, and performers, and I admired the things they did. I was always the one to show up at their exhibitions, screenings, etc. with a friend or two, give hugs and talk about what I was doing, but not really put myself out there the way they would. Many of my artist comrades have never seen my work. I would be left out of group shows and all kinds of things, not because I wasn't as good as everyone else, but because I was overlooked. I was showing up for others, but not for myself.

At the moment I'm in my room at a Chelsea hostel, listening to Betty Carter and reflecting on how magically the past few days have unfolded. I came to New York with good feelings, but with no idea how everything was going to land. But let me back up a bit...
The way my housing situation unfolded was really divine. The first time I moved to the city and knew no one at all, I responded to an artist's ad for Black women to have their hair braided as part of a performance art piece. Because of my dreads, I was unable to participate (since the whole process involved weaving hair), but the artist invited me to come out and watch the piece unfold anyway. What I witnessed was Diva Dutch (have any of my Brooklyn sisters seen it? If not, please do, it's amazing!), a piece I would photograph and write about over the coming months. The artist, a very sweet young woman named Aisha, was so nice that I ended up spending the whole day observing the process and we kept in touch after that. She was the one who first suggested I look for a place in Bed-Stuy, which is where I moved not long afterwards.

Well the preparation for moving back to New York has begun! My position is all lined up (it will most likely be working at a community garden, something I'm very excited about) and now I'm searching for a place to live. I thought I would put it out there since so many ymib sisters live in Brooklyn (and I would love to live in Brooklyn again). If anyone has a room for rent, please let me know. My budget is 500-600 and I'm looking for a place by August 1st (but hopefully arriving a week before)

I have to start this by sharing the story of how we met. Many times when I got on the A train anywhere between Brooklyn and Harlem, this woman would get on. Sometimes I'd be having the toughest day ever, and then this woman would get on the train with me, who looked like she stepped out of one of my paintings. She had the most gorgeous deep brown skin, and a short afro with a flower stuck right in the front, every time time I saw her. And somehow her presence gave me strength. She would remind me of joy, beauty, and sisterhood. I would sit or stand on the subway incredibly focused on drawing strength from her image, all the while trying not to have her notice me of course!

As I've been preparing for my transition back to New York, in between searching for rooms to rent and getting my funds together, etc. I've been taking time to reflect on my time and my life here, and really enjoy myself. Yesterday was a sunny day in San Francisco, and I spent it outdoors. I went downtown early in the morning and got to see the gay pride parade, which was huge, colorful, and at times hilarious, then headed to the outskirts of the city to watch a free Les Nubians concert in the park with Halima and a couple of her friends. And in the midst of all the fun, I found myself having wonderful conversations that kept me connected to purpose and spirit. One of my old friends called me early in the day (he's also friends with most of my other girlfriends), and we briefly spoke about what had gone down a few weeks ago between everyone. He said to me very simply, "Everyone knows your background and where you come from, and real friends are going to respect you for who you are, even if your views are different from theirs.

Time is flying by and many lovely things are happening, along with some negative things that force me to think harder and love harder. In the past week we've had someone close to us attempt suicide, and I literally told some of my friends to please leave me alone and pretend they never met me. There was so much hurt, confusion, and anger floating around, and Codi and I were drowning in it. I kept trying to breathe, sing, paint, anything I could to shift my energy, but nothing was working. Codi tried to throw himself into his freelance jobs, but found himself sad and exhausted. Both of us had just had it.

It has been kind of a crazy week. To make a long story short, my friends happened upon this blog and were none to happy about what was written (I suppose that will teach me to use aliases when I write!). This is a forum where I express myself very deeply and honestly, and I'm determined to keep that up no matter whose eyes are upon my words or how folks react. I suppose that's the artist in me. I'm in the process of letting go of some old wounds and relationships that no longer serve me, and that can be a wrenching process. At the same time, I feel blessed to be surrounded by an amazing and supportive group of people who love me for who I am. So while I am sad by what has transpired, I feel like I have angels lifting me up, reminding me of all that is good in life.

For the past few weeks I've been going through the interview process in order to join americorps for a program addressing issues of hunger in New York. The question that keeps coming up is, "you're an artist. Why are you interested in community work?" It's a valid question, but one I always have to answer when I'm up for any type of community position, and I wanted to expand on that since it's been on my mind.
I consider artists to be a vital part of any and every community. It's important that we have our finger on the pulse of the issues, and provide perspective, healing, a record...whatever we choose to express. The artist is a mirror of her community and also a catalyst for change.
I think there's a stereotype of the artist being locked away in a studio, or isolated is some fancy gallery, and not really being of the people. I know so many artists, most of them artists of color, who do just the opposite. They engage with the community in so many ways. They teach, help build community gardens, speak to youth...and it helps fuel their creative work as well, and also expand their audience.

My friends and I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. Our homegirl who had left for South Africa last year had graduated there, traveled across the continent teaching and working with the UN, and was now coming back home before heading to New York to start a masters' program in international relations at NYU. Did I mention she's only 23?? We were all so happy and proud, and excited to have a homecoming party for her. My friend is also of Arab/Jewish descent, and her identity has become an issue in our circle of friends.
My entire life, I've had wonderful friends of diverse backgrounds. I've always been proud of who I am and I know my history, and I'm secure with my identity. So I never felt my Blackness was diminished by having friends of different backgrounds. Sometimes I get together with my friends of all races, other times I'm in gatherings that are strictly Black. That's how I was raised, and I'm sorry to say that when I went off to college in San Francisco, joined the BSU and started taking Black Studies classes, it was the main reason people made fun of me in our rather segregated school.

So much has happened this past week! I was happily working at my new job, making art, and preparing for my coming transition in the fall. Everything was feeling very happy and easy. Out of the blue, I got a call from my old boss at the African museum I was supposed to work at but fell through. In a rather frantic tone, he said "do you still want the the job? If you want it it's yours, you are the only person I'm reaching out to. But I need to know now." I told him that I was planning on returning to New York in the fall, and I already had a job close to home. He said the museum only needed someone temporarily, as they might even be shutting down for 6 months since business was so bad. He asked where I was working now. When I told him, he said, "Oh, shit. Those horrible old ladies probably leave the fitting rooms full of garbage, don't they?" I told him no, and that I liked spending my day helping older women. They were patient and appreciative of good service. I found his whole tone rather odd. I told him I would think about the position, because it was offering more money, and it was at a museum after all.

The other night I was pleasantly surprised to see a Huggies diaper ad featuring a beautiful young dreadlocked mama and her adorable daughter. Have any of you seen the ad? It's part of a series about real parents and kids potty training. I loved it so much I wanted to share:
http://www.pull-upspottyproject.com/kids/lyon/