The Hidden Message in Your Vision Board

It's no surprise that the start of a new year brings a host of new beginnings, commitments, and resolutions. A chance to hit the "start" or "re-start" button on a dream. An opportunity to leave behind the negative and extend oneself toward the positive. Be it taking out a gym membership or applying for a loan to start a business, that first step usually begins with a vision in one's mind. However, to better "see" the road map from vision to attainment, many have begun gathering glue guns and girlfriends (and wine), and creating the now ever-so-popular "vision board."

Being a fan of anything that promotes self-awareness, growth, and positive energy, I am no stranger to vision boards or their usefulness in charting one's course toward success. However, recently reading an Essence article on how to create a more effective one, reminded me of two things: 1) that I hadn't created one in a while, and 2) that the vision board actually brings about another opportunity for assessment that many are not even aware of. I discovered the latter when I recalled that my last vision board was...stuffed behind my bed. In the words of Kevin Hart, let me explain.

Years ago, I was in a relationship that was not serving either of us well (if both parties are honest), but hindsight revealed we were probably more committed to the commitment than we were committed to our own true happiness. I won't even go into detail about how difficult and dangerous that can be. However, in hoping to make a little more sense of my life at that time (read: avoiding the troubled relationship elephant in the room), I set out on creating a vision board. Cue the magazines, scissors, markers, glue, glitter, and all that fun stuff that makes the board "come alive." As a then newbie, I now realize some goals simply weren't streamlined well enough and others not even goals but instead those things that just sound good to say (like, win the lottery? Umm. Yeah.). But I digress.

After completing my masterpiece, I hung it proudly on my bedroom wall so that I could see it and draw the vision into my consciousness on a daily basis. However, whenever my significant other came over, I'd take the board down and hide it behind my bed. Now, I justified this behavior by telling myself a vision should be private and that no one needs to know your dreams. However, after I finally had the fortitude to end the relationship, I realized some time later that my actions were truly because the person was not really a part of any of my visions, and because I didn't want them to try and "compromise" any of my visions by seeing them. And THAT was a major wake up call.

Yes, visions are personal but they certainly do not need to be "secrets" hidden from anyone you're sharing your life with, be it friends, family, or a partner. In other words, if there is any anxiety about sharing your vision with anyone in your life for fear of judgment, criticism, coveting, etc., your first order of business in organizing your life is to ask yourself why you've kept such people IN your life. Our relationships regardless of what kind should be built on love, trust, understanding, and, support! When you begin to hide any parts of yourself in an effort to keep any of those relationships "harmonious": red flag! There is no growth without freedom, and there is no freedom in hiding. Many of our visions are ushered into fruition by the loving support (and, dare I say, connections) of others. Those that truly belong in--and are there to enhance and advance--your life will not only embrace your visions but can help you reach them as well.

If in planning your vision board party or going at one alone, you find yourself seriously vetting who you invite or share them with, there is no time like the beginning of a new year to do inventory on who you call your "circle"--or even your partner. Before any vision can be birthed, a solid foundation must be in place, and loving, supportive people should always be a part of that foundation--and your life.

Selma: A Journey Through Our Present

"At times, history and fate meet at a single time in a single place to shape a turning point in man's unending search for freedom...."

When President Lyndon B. Johnson delivered these words to Congress in 1965 in a speech to generate support for the Voting Rights Act, ignited by the Dr. King-led march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, one couldn't imagine that those same words could be used to explain the genius that is "Selma": a cinematic powerhouse that takes an in-depth look at one moment in history that is perfectly aligned with the current state of race relations in our present day America. 

Led by a stellar cast of Black Hollywood notables from David Oyelowo as Dr. King and Carmen Ejogo as a quiet-strengthened Coretta, with Oprah Winfrey, Common, Wendell Pierce, Lorraine Toussaint, and newcomer Stephan James, who masterfully portrays a young John Lewis, as supporting cast, director Ana DuVernay mastered what should have been the impossible: allowing the spirit of Selma to play the leading role, even at times, overshadowing the essence of Oyelowo. Oyelowo, however, superbly plays the then 36-year old Dr. King, humanizing the civil rights leader in a way that has not always been present in biopics, where jokes and laughter flow as freely from his soul as his mature-beyond-his-years spirit towards advancing his people. Yet, Oeylowo plays the character with just enough subtlety to let the story itself be greater than the man whose name is without question synonymous with the Civil Rights Movement.

However, it can be argued that despite its outstanding directing, acting, and storytelling, the strength of "Selma"--and proposed box office success--might not have had the same impact if not for the current unrest playing out on our soil once again today. When the citizens of Selma march to the local courthouse and fall to their knees, we "see" the citizens of Ferguson march to Clayton; when Oyelowo delivers the speech over the body of a murdered young black man; we "hear" the words that were delivered over the body of Mike Brown; when the lights are deliberately shut off by city officials before protesters are beaten without witness and when tear gas is fired upon them as they attempt to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge on what is now known as "Bloody Sunday," we remember what we all watched play out on our own television sets night after night as protesters stood in harm’s way in their pursuit for justice."

Even when unrest between the SNCC and the SCLC threatens to derail Dr. King's mission, we're reminded of our own quiet debates during the building of the #BlackLivesMatter movement when we questioned the approach of our more fiery, young leaders versus the more planned approaches of those who came before us. And when we discover the uniquely clever way Dr. King uses the media to advance his mission, we're reminded that when journalism is used responsibly, it can be a great conduit to ignite and transform the world.

All of these powerful and painful reminders are masterfully woven throughout "Selma," which reminds us that our yesterday is today; and today our tomorrow to create. It is a cinematic masterpiece that is both harrowing and heartbreaking. Harrowing as it reminds us that we can--and have--overcome;  heartbreaking as it beckons us to remember just how far we still have to go. "Selma" at this time and at this appointed place is calling us all to do what has been done before while trusting that we can--and must--do it again. That is, remember that though there may be leaders, a movement requires the people for there to be progress.

As we near the commemoration of Dr. King's birth, let us be reignited by his words that "Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals." We are those individuals that can ignite change and "Selma" is calling us to answer that charge.

The (Not So Smart) Art of Storytelling

Everyone who knows me, knows how much I love the sitcom "Good Times." In fact, if I don't catch at least one episode per week, I'm probably ill or dead. What has always intrigued me about the 70s classic, is how its themes have managed to stay relevant despite the changing times. And to pair them with perfect comedic timing was close to genius. One episode I re-watched (for the zillionth time) last week was a perfect example of a conversation I recently had with my beautician. It was the episode where the Evans' couch caught fire and everyone had a story to tell about how it occurred; oddly, each story put the storytellers in a favorable light, even when some of the "colorful" details had nothing to do with the actual incident. In the end, Penny held the truth, told the facts, and put everyone to shame.

The truth. The facts. The storytelling. And the irony of how often the three can have nothing to do with each other, which leads back to my conversation with my beautician, who is as great at offering reality checks as she is at offering styling advice. Our topic of conversation during my last visit: your story is not necessarily THE story. In other words, there are times (and most often in relationships) when we have interpreted, internalized, and damn near "copy written" a situation as truth when the other person has also done the same but--most likely--with a completely different story. And, then, somewhere between the two stories lies the truth that does not concern itself with making anyone look good. Yet, it is often our own story that we cling to and file away that keeps us unable to forgive others but sometimes unable to forgive ourselves. 

I experienced this after I had re-connected with a friend I hadn't hung out with in years. There was an incident that had occurred to which I felt I deserved an apology. It didn't come when I thought it should, so I decided to work around the situation, even though I hadn't really gotten over the situation, if you will. Yet a sporting event put us in each other's company and gave us real, uninterrupted time to talk. And what I discovered is that my remembering of what happened was so incredibly different from what they remembered, it was mind blowing. Even laughable. And in that conversation, the person even shared a dark period they were going through during that time that would have totally overshadowed them recognizing the infraction I was holding on to. In the end, the person offered a heartfelt apology and I wholeheartedly accepted it. We shook on it (literally), and have been back to our regular routine of authentically talking, as if time stood still. 

It was a perfect reminder that we must be careful not to be so married to our version of any story that we keep ourselves stuck and, in turn, imprison others. Everyone's truth is indeed THEIR own truth. But in order to get to a shared truth, we have to be willing to be vulnerable enough to have those honest conversations with ourselves and with others about the hurt we're carrying in order to create a space of awareness, healing, and always growth. I'm not saying that's always easy. Often times, we are just fine living with our own version of the "truth." But for those relationships worth mending, being open to a better understanding can be invaluable, which is why I'm so grateful to my beautician for getting my hair AND my attitude right while I sat in her chair, because a reality check is always a "good look." 

Judgment: The Hardest Blow of All

As much good as social media can do, its one inherent flaw has always been presenting information in a microcosm that is quickly shared, dissected, and scrutinized by the masses, sometimes to a fault. Everyone has an opinion to offer. A vestige of knowledge to share. And most times a ton of criticism to deliver, often, without any direct relation to or inherent understanding of the topic at hand. Such is becoming the case of former Baltimore Raven Ray Rice and Janay Palmer, whose domestic squabble turned physical on a secluded elevator in Atlantic City that, thanks to modern technology, did not stay secluded for long. And once it did, so did the questions: "What did she say? How long has this been going on? Why did she marry him? Why doesn't she leave?" And those questions were quickly followed by statements and labels attributed to him: "He's an abuser. He should never play in the league again. He's crazy."

Well, I neither have answer to those questions or proof to verify any of those statements. But one thing I do know is that we've all become very comfortable sitting in our judgment seats. The first feeling I felt when I first saw the video was shock, but it was quickly followed by pity: for both of them. No one comes into this world an abuser or a victim. Excluding mental issues, most times what's layered beneath the fabric of both parties involved are histories that include more abuse--whether it's how to deliver it or how to tolerate it. Many of us will be blessed to never know the physical pain involved in either, but to say none of us have experienced abuse of some kind in relationships would be a stretch.

I often hear women (and sometimes men) run down the list of things they've tolerated in relationships, yet feel super empowered in saying, "But if he/she ever put their hands on me, I am gone!" Which lends one to believe that physical abuse is the only "blow" that should not be accepted or tolerated. Yet many of us have been in relationships where hurtful language; mistrust; and emotional battery became the norm. Where partners took rather than gave; lied rather than loved; and broke us down as opposed to built us up. Yet, we somehow feel comfortable deciding when and how Janay Palmer should have reacted to what is probably the most horrific experience in her life, all the while not realizing that in our moments of confusion, we were probably being silently judged as well for what we accepted as the norm, whether it was because we found a way to rationalize our staying or because we simply weren't ready for a new experience.

And, perhaps, Janay is not ready yet either. And maybe exiting her marriage will not be her final swan song. We never know what plans ultimately lie in store for us; what temporary martyrs we sometimes become for a greater lesson for others. Perhaps what could be waiting at the end of the road for both Ray and Janay is an opportunity to heal, grow, and be both delivered and a deliverer for others that will be far more astounding than any play that could ever be made on a football field. What she needs now is what some of us needed during those times we wandered in our own valleys of uncertainty: compassion and grace to figure it out, whatever "figuring it out means" for her. And while we're doing so, we need to offer the same to Ray because, as is often said, "Hurt people hurt people." And his actions show that he too is a hurt soul.

If we're going to spend this time critiquing, judging, and examining every fiber of this unfortunate situation, perhaps we can take a few of those minutes to put ourselves in the shoes of others and be thankful--not critical--for our own deliverance that may not have left physical scars but indeed, in some way, wounded our souls. The grace we received is the grace we need to give to those still in their valleys.

The Tangled Web of Racism

I killed a spider the other day. It was where it didn't belong. More precisely, where I didn't want it to be: in my personal space. It posed no real threat that I couldn't manage. Clearly, I'm bigger and more powerful than it was. And even though it, too, was a living creature, I guess I didn't place as much value on its life as I did mine. Not saying that's right; it's how I've been conditioned. In fact, most people fear spiders, right? I'm sure they serve some purpose. What that purpose is, I have no idea. Never have been interested enough to discover what that is. So, without much thought, I killed it and moved on. I'm sure they'll be others and I'll probably eliminate them too. After all, in my rationale, they simply do not belong around me and I have no patience for "creepy things" that make me uncomfortable. And perhaps this is also the mindset of some white Americans and its view of black Americans.

Perhaps that's how white law enforcement officers saw Amadou Diallo, Sean Bell, Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Ramarley Graham, Eric Garner, Oscar Grant, now Mike Brown, and so many other countless unarmed black men and women who lost their lives during an officer's "line of duty" or at the hands of a "concerned citizen." Perhaps that's why findings indicate that in a six-year span, a black man was murdered by a police officer on an average of twice a week in this country. Perhaps much like journalist Melissa Harris-Perry reminded us--in a piece chronicling this epidemic--that in 1857 Chief Justice Roger Tanney declared in the Supreme Court that Dred Scott had no right to sue for his freedom because, as a black man, he was never intended to be an American. Perhaps the black man was never intended to be seen as human either. And so, much like that spider, he, too, has become just another insignificant, annoyance that must be eliminated. Perhaps...

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