HeartSounds

Since I started this blog, there is one thing I've endeavored to do, share what I call my heartsounds. At some point I realized, though I shared honestly, I may have held back a bit. No, I held back a lot. It's a frightening thing to lay your heart bare. I've admired those brave enough to do this, envied them even, but when it was my turn courage failed.

By nature, I am private. Couple that with a creative's apprehension at rolling out a new canvas of any kind, whether musically, by written word, a first sketch - well, you get the picture. It's not a pretty picture. I am shaking my head as I type, because fear has gripped. That's hard to admit, but it's the truth.

I, however, made a decision that 2018 is the year where I will finally do many things I've wanted to, things that are part of my destiny. It requires a massive push at the mountain of fear that rises every time I purpose to share without reservation. This entry is the first push, and it is major. I commit to write without holding back. Okay, I've put it out there, now I have to follow through.

What I choose to write about will be thoughtfully selected with you in mind. Expect more firsts from me this year. I look forward to the journey of shifting into greater in 2018. Limiting mindsets have been kicked aside, and I am ready. Are you? Let's do this together.

Mind Games

Lately, a number of people with strong spirits of intimidation, provocation and manipulation sought me out. I wondered why they tried to attach themselves to me. How would they benefit from controlling my soul? What was the ultimate purpose?

I noticed several similarities during these encounters. They all used words to try to instill fear, do emotional harm, and manipulate to impose their will. If I did not acquiesce, I was met with extreme anger. No. Rage would be a more appropriate description of their response to my resistance to being their puppet. 

Another thing they shared was an unrelenting attempt to keep me on the defensive. They did something wrong, but when challenged to take responsibility, quickly placed blame on the one they wronged.

I thought, "They are crazy." I am not speaking of the mentally ill. I have compassion for those who battle this disease. I am talking about people whose perspectives are so twisted, they are blind to their own truth. People who repeatedly ask you to hand them a knife, use it to stab you, then say, "Look what you made me do." 

Bewilderment  was my first response-  then came indignation. The audacity! "Keep your mind games. Quell your constant need to control. I see your efforts to manipulate. You've exposed yourself - like Madea - standing behind the screen door asking, 'You can see me?'  Yes! I see you!"

"You have come to the wrong individual. I am not the person you used to know. My spirit is strong against your attacks, yet my heart feels compassion. I wish you knew what you were missing. I wish you could understand. A life that is not whole is no life at all - and you are not whole."

I pray for you, but have no problem steering clear of individuals and environments which seek to infect my soul. I am soaring now - in this new season of my life. My spirit is free, and it feels good. 

Bitten By The Bug

I have been bitten - by the writer's bug that is - and I cannot shake the symptoms of this windfall. My fingers will not stay still for a minute. My mind has created a folder of thoughts and concepts not yet typed. They are being stored at a rapid rate, and have reached a capacity that is threatening to overflow if I don't do something about it.

The Editor has been working on the "Pour The Oil" manuscript for exactly 6 days and I am itching to get back to writing. Clearly this is the season to accomplish this part of my purpose - to pen stories and principles that are destined to help those who are hungry for and have been prepared to receive them. I am ready for the words to begin pouring onto a page.

Today, I started the companion book to "Pour The Oil". It is a forty day Devotional. I am pretty excited about it. Stay tuned for more updates.

Bring Back Our Girls

I find myself consciously seeking to subdue my emotions on the issue of hundreds of Nigerian school girls kidnapped, to be used as pawns to manipulate and control. I care deeply, intensely, and it is difficult to conceptualize or accept this truth. It horrifies me, but it has happened.

They were snatched away from all things familiar, safety now a memory - pulled from expressions of love and care into terrifying situations. It is too much to bear. My heart weeps with the mother's and bleeds with the father's. The images that plague their minds are likely ones of terror. They have seen the nature of the captors. They know the possible fates their offspring face.

I cannot imagine what their days are like. Is sleeplessness and constant worry now the new reality? Do daunting feelings of utter hopelessness and anguish drape the landscape of their thoughts? That state of being is now the common thread, a link between the girls and their families, Nigeria and the world – worry, concern, fear, apprehension, doubt - pain.

The Nigerian people expect the government to do more. In their eyes (on this matter) it is an impotent institution. Maybe the country’s elect feel as powerless. It is possible what is viewed as ineptitude is their stark truth, “we are not equipped to handle this.” I could be wrong, it could be something else altogether. What I do know with certainty, those girls deserve their freedom. I am praying for their safe return. Bring back our girls.