MyMixedBagLady1: My Mixed Bag, My Mirror, My Me, Part I

I’ve been pondering my various and sundry totes, handbags and other accessories designed to keep me well-organized while on the move.  Having worked as a Brighton Collectibles sales associate and product ambassador, I’ve acquired quite the (addictive) habit of procuring pretty purses.

I appreciate, really demand, that this particular accoutrement to my clothing ensemble always compliment AND provide just the right amount of space and place for my necessary, and nice-to-have, things.  The challenge is in

PURSE-SONAL Journeys - contents could be helpful or hazardous!
PURSE-SONAL Journeys – contents could be helpful or hazardous!

the change…you know, presto purse reverse, that handbag haul out, then in.

On this occasion, as I dumped the whole thing, I began to think, “Why so Much STUFF? What’s THIS all about? Why can’t I travel more lightly?”  After all, a hefty handbag, filled with this and that, can become quite the liability to the shoulder, back and even other body parts, eh? Having emptied my tote, a gift generously given by my global-galloping sister, I  decided to organize and examine its contents; then perhaps find answers to these quizzical questions as a self-reflecting search for inner truth.

And with goal in mind, this post marks the 1st installment of a 3-part series haiku series.  I’m anxious to know what we’ll discover on this PURSE-sonal journey. I invite you to candidly comment on what you see, PURSE-EVE, and PURSE-U, as we search for ourselves in one another…

Pretty Perks

Glimpsing geisha girls

Parasols, painted pouts, pearls

Toting tighter twirl

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Tale of Treasured Trash

Treasured Trash

Treasured Trash

Listen my peeps and you gone check

Sleep-slumbrin’ ‘hoods, ’bout to get respect.

Between the weeds and tires dumped

lies precious metals, mem’ries slumped.

Layered paint over dreams deferred

Scarred yet stronger, now goan be heard.

Drop the pretense & its weight

Sun shower, shimmy, foundations shake.

Hearth and heart, no more to roam,

Ancient acres rolling, home.

Speak Hear See Evil No copyright 2014 Julie Andrea Borders

Sights & sounds in the ‘hood /
We say we’re all good /
Then why neck hairs stood /
Like tiny soldiers wood / 4real doh?

Ghetto birds circling /
College girls twerkin’ /
Veterans beserkin’ /
Hip-shackled brahs smirkin /
FDR’s dole ain’t workin’ / no moh!

Sirens tear thru the nites /
Winter wind homeless mother bites /
Howling hounds hit new heights /
Who needs Kruger fright /
When real life hand slight /
Cuts deep, sleep tight /
Restless slumber creep /
Jail house promises to keep /
Thru crib slates peep /
Incarceration odds steep / 6-ft ‘lo, yo!

Legend calls for do-over /
Harken back to Red Rover /
Change of heart, 4-leaf clover /
Evolving our head game /
Broken, mending, losing lame /
Excuses, abuses, obtuses same /
Clear decks, hand checks, re-frame /
New life, no strife , happy wife /
No Husband trife /
Barney Fife entertains / No wall remains /
Rose-colored lens /
Happy En-
Dings /
Fah reel, Fah real /
Fah Ever, Always & Love.IMG_1948-0.JPG

Shot Clock

It seems I’ve developed a penchant for sudden ejections, like a misbehaved WNBA star, mouthing off to refs with truth sometimes too assaulting to absorb but difficult to deny, or using an unnecessarily rough body check, with brutal language that beguiles.  Correction, more akin to NBA stars, like Andrew Bynum, cuz the ladies hardly ever get ejections, but then I digress.

One of my wing gents Sharath Mekala once told me, “You need the [24-second] shot clock rule!”  By this declaration, I suspect he meant that my (over)zealous self-expression overwhelmed him like a full-force verbal fire hose, took too long and left him feeling hurt and unheard, instead of informed and inspired.

Apparently, on this court of life, although I COULD become a highly skilled player, more than likely I won’t get any playing time or achieve acclaim if I don’t learn to work the rules to my advantage.  Even more threatening, I soon won’t have any team mates or opponents with which to hone skills. Given these bleak prospects, I see the serious need for change.

I sincerely regret that my uncivil, disrespectful behavior has driven some of you out of the arena of our relationship.  This game ain’t even fun anymore without you. I miss you and want you back.

For those who’ve experienced my exuberance as exhibitionism instead of excellence, my zest as zaniness instead of Zion, my opinions as obstacles instead of opportunities, I sincerely apologize. I ask that you please forgive my self-absorbed, self-serving schemes, my brash and baby-ish banter of the past.  I also request that you call me out during any future lapses, whether large or small, and hold me accountable for cleaning up any harm/damage I unwittingly do.

I trust you’ll be patient while I seek and destroy residual “LOOK@ME!” demon roots, pull them like pesky weeds in an otherwise Eden-esk Garden I’m endeavoring to make of my life.  A simple sign will do: just say “SHOT CLOCK” or make a buzzer sound and I promise to pause and hear you out, then take some self-imposed quiet time on the bench, after getting counsel from The Coach.

I therefore commit myself now to being a “good sportswoman,” more attentive, flexible, respectful and open, less argumentative, opinionated, judgmental & irreverent.  Now won’t you come back to the game?  Let me practice my new “playing well with others” techniques?  I trust when you’re ready, we’ll all be better players having had these sometimes painful growth experiences. I anxiously await your generous and gracious return.  Namaste.

Do No Harm 2

dnhlogo-do-no-harmBeing ME…

What does that mean?

I sometimes catch myself

Unconsciously thinking of me

In static terms,

As if ME is who I’ve always been,

Or whom I’ve become

After that last hurtful scene,

The one that had me

Put one more brick

In that wall that’s suppose to

Protect ME from IT/THEM,

That thing/those others

Out to get me.

But what if I’m like water

Subtle but strong

Flexible but true,

Live-giving, and fatal,

Depending on my mood?

Then no wall can forever

Protect or hold me.

Boundless me.

And maybe, just maybe,

Them being out to get me

Is a figment of my imagination,

A FEARful hallucintation,

False Evidence Appearing Real,

Fully Fooling me.

They don’t mean no harm!

Or if that’s how they feel,

It’s only a defense spiel,

With secret code, disarmed.

So who AM I, me?

Am I the main attraction

Or background scenery?

The quiet calm

Or bold, brassy melody?

Point is, I/me certainly

Is NOT static.

Au contraire,

I can be quite erratic,

Unpredictable, whimsical,

Invisible or blindingly bright,

In your face or just plain outta sight.

Or some middle ground,

Not so easily found,

For now…

Do No Harm

do-no-harm-r_20l2Looking for the space

where being me won’t harm anyone else.

Does it exist?

Will I ever find it?

Where are the sign posts, the clues?

Am I allowed a compass or map?

In this high-tech, Reality TV world, can I get a lifeline?

Or will I be voted off the journey?

Is there rapid rail

Or must I travel on foot?

Are my feet bare?

Is the road rough,

With gravel, glass, & muck?

Am I alone, partnered, competing?

How much pain must I and others endure

Before I/we get there?

Is there room for all of us

Or just a select few?

Is it smooth sailing, magnificent seascapes,

Wise, witty, wicked wing women

Wearing sun- & breeze-kissed faces?

As Jill Scott would say:

84 degrees, melody?

Room for all who want to come

And are willing to do what it takes to get there?

Maybe it’s my/our choice, smooth or rugged,

Solo or en masse,

Really a bit of both, along a continuum,

The path to that special place.

Our experience of pain or pleasure

Determined by our choice

To don rose-colored or smokey gray glasses.

To see intermediate stops and a final destination

where I/We

Rest easy

Smell the roses

Have some tea

Feel the unconditional love of GOD,

The god within me/we,

GOD all around me/we,

GOD that is ME/WE!

What is 2008?

I am ALL that I create in ’08. All that I create in ’08 is great. I am great (& GRATEful) in ’08. Dr. Michael Lomax, now CEO of UNCF (www.uncf.org) taught me all about the syllogism when I was a Freshman at Spelman College in 1979. This form of logic uses 2 related positions to support a particular conclusion, the point being, if you agree w/the 1st two, the final statement can’t be disputed. So this syllogism frames my way of being for this 2008 New Year.

I prefer this approach to making a New Year’s Resolution. These often seem limiting, more like obligations (what I should do) than commitments (what I’m willing to do to pursue my passions), and quite frankly they just haven’t stuck! Anyway this syllogistic affirmation serves as a guiding principle for what I am becoming & accomplishing in this fantastic year of opulent opportunities.

I know that barriers may show up; conquering them will make the victories all the more sweet…remember My Favorite Things from the Sound of Music? Well, Jewels’ version goes something like this:

Mist in the morning and fresh scents awakening,
Incense & gardens & calm bath for taking,
Brown silky skin sheaths on Nubian Kings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Rich, bright red ipods and itunes for listening,
Shea butter, nut oil and your visage glistening,
Bobbles and bells with a platinum ring,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Men in tuxedos with teeth brightly flashing,
Children on playgrounds with energy dashing,
Fun instant messages with you I ping,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the job bites,
When the tea stings,
When I’m feeling mad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I do feel so glad!

PEACE!