mmm...tired
So, this is the time of Thanksgiving. It all makes me a really weird amalgamation of emotions. Some in intense contrast and conflict. One could look at the way I feel and consider my bipolar (and that maybe true) but I just think its the nature of the holiday season.
What I Am:
I am a wounded, trampled, divided, pained, sad, disappointed, lost, uncertain, confused, lonely, hollow, unwanted, worn out, beaten, battered, shattered, fractured, weak, poor, frustrated, dissatisfied, depressed, faithless, desperate black man. Yet...I am a healing, uniting, abating, happy, proud, certain, totally together, full, energized, healing, strong, rich, satisfied (deeply), impressed, faithful, secure black man. How in the hell is that?
How This Works:
It doesnt first off. But all of those feelings are spinning...all of those feelings are revolving in my heart and my mind. As two separate units, yes as I unified group...yes as well. I was going to write a usual rant...about the pain and frustration I feel at Wake Forest and in the world at large. To be honest, I wanted to really let loose, but I would set a huge precedent of sounding the same...and when this is the time to be thankful (well everyday should be the time to be thankful). But, like I said before...when describing what I feel and what I am am...I am a series of senseless and painful emotions. I dont disregard the fight or the journey. I have fought and failed...I have crashed and burned. I will be honest I feel bruised--wounded...all of that stuff...more than the positive stuff. Part of me wants to scream that all of the positive stuff is bullshit (forgive the language) but, it is so true in many others and I am thankful for even the opportunity that those things can be true.
In the eye of war, in the eye of a city, a entire region of the country being forgotten, in the eye of a president that is ignorant, in the eye of damn injustice and social disparity, in the light of the church being silent on all of the wrong issues, how can I be audacious enough to complain? I can complain because it is a release, as I pray to tell God and Jesus what I am feeling. I know that my ministry as a musician and listener is where I am supposed to be and do. The wounds that I feel run very deep. I am devastingly black and have been challenged by Howard Thurman (who is stirring up many dark disturbing and inspiring feelings...I am writing a research paper on Jesus and the Disinherited and The Search for Common Ground.) to be devestatingly honest. I have pulled into...this phenomena that Thurman describes as this, "From my childhood I have been on the scent of the tie that binds life at a level so deep that the final privacy of the individual would be reinforced rather than threatened. I have always wanted to be me without making it difficult to be you." This scent doesn't make it easy to walk away, actually makes me more at to stand in the midst of storm. So this is too my friends, I ain't going nowhere unless God himself moves me. I am tied forever to my brothers and sisters of the human race. Despite what racial confusion (which is a problem when one is devastatingly black--I won't try to explain that--it would wound some of those that I love), I am bound to be in the midst of the fire. In the cauldron of emotional terrorism and counter-terrorism; mental and psychological bastardization, somewhere I will be found. So what if I am hollow now (best dealt with in a past entry):
Hollow is feeling that nothing that I am or can do is big enough to fill the space the void--for I am nothing much, most definitely not enough to pour out. Emptiness I understand and can cope with..but what happens when the emptiness rings so loudly against the hollowness, the deep dead reverb that is hollow? How alone does one have to get to accept the fact that it is supposed to happen...supposed to be? How far does one have to be pushed to give up fighting? How many times does one need to be kicked or whipped to lose their identity? Does one finally have that moment to be broken to the point of becoming a man that doesnt exist? Toby is not real...never was...an imaginary--creation. Where does the art end...where does the heart begin...where does faith heal...where does faith hurt? Its pain I feel, not caused by anyone...its the ache of the sounds of the hammer of shaping ringing against the hollowness of my soul. But, does it matter--Does it matter that me willing to fight for my friends needs someone to fight for me? Of course not, because there is nothing here worth fighting for. Yes, I know I should not seek the comfort of people...but God and I am. Seeking his face to the point that its painful...but I am alone. I have rambled...and probably noone will respond which is fine. This entry is my crying...my inconsistent whining...my slovenly attempt to explain how I feel. So...I leave...alone...as always.
I wont say that I am thankful for not being in Dafur, Iraq, India, Ghana, Coté d' Ivoiré, New Orleans, any of the places where sad chaos has happen, but I am thankful that I will be in the place to be a blessing...despite the pain. You do not minister (not just a religious position right now) from your pain, but through it and despite it. I am thankful, because I want to be in those places, that I do feel the pain of my friends (even if its unspoken) deeply and securely. I am thankful for the volumes of emotional distress because I am stronger. I am thankful for the challenges...and being told no. I am thankful for the silence...and the sadness...and the crushing...but I am thankful of the love that heals those wounds (by opening others). I am thankful for being put in a position of sacrifice--and dont want that to change. So this is my rambling for awhile.
Much Love and God Bless You,
ErnDawg
What I Am:
I am a wounded, trampled, divided, pained, sad, disappointed, lost, uncertain, confused, lonely, hollow, unwanted, worn out, beaten, battered, shattered, fractured, weak, poor, frustrated, dissatisfied, depressed, faithless, desperate black man. Yet...I am a healing, uniting, abating, happy, proud, certain, totally together, full, energized, healing, strong, rich, satisfied (deeply), impressed, faithful, secure black man. How in the hell is that?
How This Works:
It doesnt first off. But all of those feelings are spinning...all of those feelings are revolving in my heart and my mind. As two separate units, yes as I unified group...yes as well. I was going to write a usual rant...about the pain and frustration I feel at Wake Forest and in the world at large. To be honest, I wanted to really let loose, but I would set a huge precedent of sounding the same...and when this is the time to be thankful (well everyday should be the time to be thankful). But, like I said before...when describing what I feel and what I am am...I am a series of senseless and painful emotions. I dont disregard the fight or the journey. I have fought and failed...I have crashed and burned. I will be honest I feel bruised--wounded...all of that stuff...more than the positive stuff. Part of me wants to scream that all of the positive stuff is bullshit (forgive the language) but, it is so true in many others and I am thankful for even the opportunity that those things can be true.
In the eye of war, in the eye of a city, a entire region of the country being forgotten, in the eye of a president that is ignorant, in the eye of damn injustice and social disparity, in the light of the church being silent on all of the wrong issues, how can I be audacious enough to complain? I can complain because it is a release, as I pray to tell God and Jesus what I am feeling. I know that my ministry as a musician and listener is where I am supposed to be and do. The wounds that I feel run very deep. I am devastingly black and have been challenged by Howard Thurman (who is stirring up many dark disturbing and inspiring feelings...I am writing a research paper on Jesus and the Disinherited and The Search for Common Ground.) to be devestatingly honest. I have pulled into...this phenomena that Thurman describes as this, "From my childhood I have been on the scent of the tie that binds life at a level so deep that the final privacy of the individual would be reinforced rather than threatened. I have always wanted to be me without making it difficult to be you." This scent doesn't make it easy to walk away, actually makes me more at to stand in the midst of storm. So this is too my friends, I ain't going nowhere unless God himself moves me. I am tied forever to my brothers and sisters of the human race. Despite what racial confusion (which is a problem when one is devastatingly black--I won't try to explain that--it would wound some of those that I love), I am bound to be in the midst of the fire. In the cauldron of emotional terrorism and counter-terrorism; mental and psychological bastardization, somewhere I will be found. So what if I am hollow now (best dealt with in a past entry):
Hollow is feeling that nothing that I am or can do is big enough to fill the space the void--for I am nothing much, most definitely not enough to pour out. Emptiness I understand and can cope with..but what happens when the emptiness rings so loudly against the hollowness, the deep dead reverb that is hollow? How alone does one have to get to accept the fact that it is supposed to happen...supposed to be? How far does one have to be pushed to give up fighting? How many times does one need to be kicked or whipped to lose their identity? Does one finally have that moment to be broken to the point of becoming a man that doesnt exist? Toby is not real...never was...an imaginary--creation. Where does the art end...where does the heart begin...where does faith heal...where does faith hurt? Its pain I feel, not caused by anyone...its the ache of the sounds of the hammer of shaping ringing against the hollowness of my soul. But, does it matter--Does it matter that me willing to fight for my friends needs someone to fight for me? Of course not, because there is nothing here worth fighting for. Yes, I know I should not seek the comfort of people...but God and I am. Seeking his face to the point that its painful...but I am alone. I have rambled...and probably noone will respond which is fine. This entry is my crying...my inconsistent whining...my slovenly attempt to explain how I feel. So...I leave...alone...as always.
I wont say that I am thankful for not being in Dafur, Iraq, India, Ghana, Coté d' Ivoiré, New Orleans, any of the places where sad chaos has happen, but I am thankful that I will be in the place to be a blessing...despite the pain. You do not minister (not just a religious position right now) from your pain, but through it and despite it. I am thankful, because I want to be in those places, that I do feel the pain of my friends (even if its unspoken) deeply and securely. I am thankful for the volumes of emotional distress because I am stronger. I am thankful for the challenges...and being told no. I am thankful for the silence...and the sadness...and the crushing...but I am thankful of the love that heals those wounds (by opening others). I am thankful for being put in a position of sacrifice--and dont want that to change. So this is my rambling for awhile.
Much Love and God Bless You,
ErnDawg