Embracing Change

Fall has always been my very favorite season. Everything about it screams transition.  Kids going back to school, the early arrival of twilight, the cool crisp air that greets me on my morning runs, leaves changing hues and falling from their branches – all signals that Summer is over and Winter will be here soon.  We ooh and aah at the sight of those burnt oranges, golden yellows, rich browns, and olive greens. But as beautiful and as breathtaking as it is to watch nature taking its course in the Fall foliage, change in our own lives can be overwhelming. It makes us painfully aware that we are NOT in control.  Scary, isn’t it?  The good news is, there is a greater Power at work, one who is bigger than all of us, HUGE! He changes day into night, Summer into Fall, Fall into Winter, and Winter into Spring – the season of renewal and new growth.

Change is inevitable. We are always in a state of transition, constantly shifting and evolving. Instead of giving into our body’s response to fight or fly, let’s surrender, embrace the change, and allow the Divine plan to unfold, growing with grace into all that God has called us to be.

Don't Be Intimidated By the Red Tape

Last week, some friends and I, along with thousands of other Andrea Bocelli fans, ventured into Central Park for an evening of music under the stars. It was raining. It was cold.  It was crowded. As one who frequents outdoor concerts, I was fully prepared for partially obstructed views and perhaps getting my toes literally stepped on as concert goers made their way through the maze of blankets to and from their seating area.  What caught me totally off-guard, however, was the sight of a small group of people who decided to keep the rest of us out by creating a barrier around themselves made of red plastic tape.  That 150 (or so) sq ft of land belonged to them, the privileged few. Each time a shut-out even looked in their direction, they lifted the tape higher, making it even harder for folks to get through, protecting their place and keeping us in ours.

I sat there and watched person after person turn around and go the other way because they were afraid or didn't want to be bothered to challenge the red tape. Well, I was mad as hell and I wasn't going to take it any more.  It was time for a revolution!  Seeing red, literally and figuratively, I got up from my own little safe haven amongst my friends and proceeded to cut the red tape, breaking down their barrier of privilege. It was evident to me by the thunderous applause that I received, that EVERYone around them felt the same way I did, but NObody would challenge them. I guess they were also hoping that the NYPD would do their job.

Never one to miss a lesson, I lay in my bed that night thinking, how many times have we been held back or worse yet, have held ourselves back because we were afraid to challenge the red tape? That license to start our own business, the certification needed for career advancement , affordable health care, financial aid - all treasures protected by barriers of red tape, daring us to cut through, all the while hoping that we will give up and turn around.

Red tape means keep out, stay in your place, don't even think about it.  I say, "CUT THE RED TAPE!!"

Watch Your Mouth!

I remember back in the day when simply calling someone stupid would be enough to severely alter the pH balance of the inside of your mouth.  And even though the person was telling a blatant lie, you dared not call them a liar! They were telling an "untruth".  Okay, maybe that was just in MY household...but when did we become such potty mouths?

As I sat in Starbucks minding my own Grande Skinny Caramel Macchiato,  I felt as though I needed to run for cover, protect myself from all the F-bombs that were exploding around me.  "Hey F-er", one young lady greeted her male friend. "Did you go swimming today without me, F-er?!" Now I've seen many names in the baby book but I don't remember F-er being one of them.  On the other side of me, a well-dressed, rather handsome gentleman sat with his laptop and his very own caffeinated beverage.  But his attractive meter plummeted to ZERO and stayed there soon after he opened his mouth.  I don't know who was on the other end of the phone call but I'm almost positive that he was either named Dude, Dawg, or Mother F-er.  It's bad enough that he was having what should have been a private conversation in public (that's another blog), but every other word was an expletive.

Don't get me wrong, I am NOT without sin.  My language can be downright blue at times, and don't get me started on the West Indian curse words. But I remember a time when curse words, or bad words as we called them back in the day, meant something.  You only brought them out on special occasions (like the good china) when you were really trying to make a point, or someone got you so worked up that no other word would do! I'll attempt to use one or two in a sentence: Those Mother F-ing Tea Partiers are a bunch of bat sh*t crazy numbnuts! Now, because I don't use those colorful adjectives too often, they mean something right here and now.  You should have no doubt in your mind as to how I feel about those a**holes! (sorry!) But curse words are so overused and have become so commonplace, that they have lost their effect.  In fact, EVERYbody uses them!  I hear young ladies on the train letting them rip. (I cringe at what my father would say if, even as a grown woman, he heard me using such language!) I hear children cursing at each other and cursing at adults who intervene.  (I have been told to mind my f-ing business more times than I care to admit!) I hear women, young and grown alike,  calling each other b*tches. (Basketball Wives, anyone?)  I hear young men calling young women b*tches and hoes. (Neither of which is in the baby book, by the way.) Meanwhile, the stock in mouth-washing soap has taken a nose dive because we have become so numb to those curse words that nobody gives a rat's ass...um, I mean hiney.

The No Cuss Challenge - I challenge you to go for one whole week without using one curse word.

1. You can't curse in another language! (Va fungool, coño, and mierda are personal faves.)
2. No clever substitutions. (Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea is still sh*t!)
3. I know that ass is in The Bible, but that's off limits as well.

If you slip, put a dollar (YES, a dollar!) in the cuss cup.  As potty-mouthed as we have become, I bet we'll have enough money to balance the budget and shut those greedy, grabby, racist Mother F-ing Tea Parties the hell up!

*goes to put money in the cuss cup, sigh*

All Growed Up - The Birthday Blog

My birthday this year started out the same way that it always does - my brother was the first to call, followed by my mother singing multiple verses of Happy Birthday, including ones that she's made up. But this year, she decided to be a little extra. She added the bit about me not giving her a grandchild, a bit usually reserved for when I call to wish her a happy Mother's Day. I had to remind my dear mother that at my ripe age, I have one good egg left (maybe) and that sucker is armed with The Slomin's Shield.

There are some that I'd like to forget, but my earth days thus far have been memorable. In my 20's, I lived in a studio apartment in the Upper East Side and was holding down 3 jobs while still going out on auditions and rehearsing at night.  Each day was a hustle. Remember that In Living Color sketch, Hey Mon, about the Jamaican family holding down multiple jobs? Yep, that was me! (Cue Damon's J'fakin accent),  I was a Gymboree teacher, a retail sales associate, an adjunct college professor, AND the hostess with the mostess at children's birthday parties! I was not a lazy lima bean! In between all of this, I booked a show that had a pretty fabulous run downtown and later got picked up for a European tour! Whew!

When older girlfriends turned 30 and started freaking out, I didn't understand why.  After all, age is just a number, right? WRONG!! On January 1 of the year that I was to cross over into that decade, I felt what they were all feeling, ANXIETY! I was now supposed to act like a grown-up! Like Macaulay Culkin in the Home Alone movie franchise, I stared into the mirror, palmed my cheeks and screamed...LOUDLY! In a nutshell, my 30's sucked! It started out with the loss of my childhood best friend to cancer.  From the time we met to the the time we graduated high school, Elaine and I were inseparable. We both moved to different states for college but continued to spend countless hours chatting on the phone and writing letters. Yes, letters! I visited her and she visited me and her death left me devastated, especially since I didn't know that she was dying. The big "C" reared its ugly head again when my mother was diagnosed with stage one breast cancer.  She's been cancer-free for 11 years now, thank God! I learned so much about the disease and about our healthcare system (or lack thereof) during our struggle to get her healthy and whole. My sucky 30's also brought about the illness and eventual loss of my dad.  But throughout all of the grief and mounds of paperwork that comes with dealing with the death of a parent, my siblings and I grew closer together. With that bright spot, I guess it wasn't THAT sucky after all!

I was so looking forward to my 40's and greeted the year with arms wide opened.  On my birthday, I ran around shouting to all who would listen (and even those who wouldn't), "I'm 40 and fabulous!" I gathered a few sister-friends to celebrate my new-found fabulousity. It was a very special way to begin the year. I felt like I had finally grown into myself. With each year into 40 comes more growth (thankfully not of the waistline) and more learning. The (r)evolution continues but here are a few lessons I've gathered along the way:

1. Every so often, you have to clean out your "interior" closet, getting rid of things, including relationships that no longer serve you.  They take up way too much space and let's face it, prime real estate is scarce!
2. "No" is a complete sentence. Nuff said!
3. It's okay that not everyone likes you.  You're not for all markets.
4. We all mess up. When you do, forgive yourself and move on.
5. Sh*t happens.  When it does, pick through the poop, find the lesson, take a good shower (please!), and move on.  We miss so many opportunities for growth when we wallow in self pity.
6. And while I'm on the subject, DO NOT accept invitations to other people's pity parties.  The food sucks, the liquor is cheap, and the hangover is a b*tch!

There are some folks, especially women, who shy away from telling their real ages.  NOT ME! I have earned the right to claim that I'm 44 and fabulouser!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!

For a little laugh, click here! 

Living out Loud - The New Blaxploitation

In a Benadryl-induced haze, I wearily channel surfed my way into the hot mess of a show called Basketball Wives. Mind you, of the seven women, only one of them is married to a basketball player...but I digress.  I watched *cough* 3 episodes and I saw no one working toward the greater good, looking past their own perfectly powdered nose to make a contribution to society.  Oh wait, they have paid for boobs, hair, and gallons of lip gloss so I guess they are contributing, in their own way. The episodes were chock full of neck rolling, finger waving, drink tossing, and b*tch slapping.  Lights, camera, catfight! (cue the Isaac Hayes soundtrack!)  Like the Real Housewives of Atlanta, these women of "reality" TV are so busy living out loud that they can't hear our cries to "turn that sh*t off!" Their noise comes at a time when psychologists have written us off as unattractive, our hair and hues continue to be the subject of documentaries, and our wombs have been labeled weapons of mass destruction.

Juxtapose, if you will, those images with the press coverage of our first Black FLOTUS traveling the world, wowing royalties, dining with world presidents, and teaching young people how to take pride in themselves and become better global citizens - all this while rendering the fashion critics speechless! Not only is she stunningly attractive, she's also kick-ass smart, she's comfortable enough in her own hair and skin to shake a tail feather and break a sweat in the hot sun, and her womb has produced two very beautiful and well-rounded young ladies. This is the "reality" that I want my young sisters aspiring to. Oh and by the way, she IS married, to the President of the United States.

Be it ever so humble...

My home, albeit a pre-war apartment in Harlem (or Washington Heights, depending on whom you ask), has always been my sanctuary, my little oasis in this concrete jungle. Yes, my super, who is frequently MIA, seems to have developed an intense fear of a mop and broom and my new next-door neighbors may not be the quietest family (EVERYthing they do is loud!). But at the end of a long day, there is NO greater feeling than closing my door behind me, taking off my shoes at said door, and exhaling as my humble abode welcomes me with wide outstretched arms. "Oh, how I've missed you" she seems to say.  To which I truthfully reply, "and I, YOU, my darling!"

For the last 2 weeks, HOME has been "no place" to come home to.  She had a little bit of a short circuit and as a result, had to be re-wired, re-plastered, re-painted, and dusted from ceiling to floor, corner to corner. According to the electrician, she should have caught on fire, possibly with me present! Holy ashes to ashes, Batman! We knew that it wasn't going to be pretty so we gave each other a hug, put on our dusk masks, held hands, and braved the process together. And now, with brand new wiring, a healthy dollop of plaster to cover her exposed underthings, and a fresh coat of semi-gloss (you go, girl!), we are back to our old selves. Reunited and it feels so good!

What I've learned:

1. EVERYthing, if examined closely, can be a metaphor for life.  HELLO!? Don't wait for an electrical fire to tell you that you need to re-wire; a little smoke is enough of a warning!
2. Don't get overwhelmed by the process.  If you take it little by little, or as the painters kept telling me, poco a poco, there is always light at the end of the very dusty tunnel.
3. Because you live in almost Washington Heights, not every Spanish-speaking worker is Dominican!
4. Unless you're willing to ply them with coffee, lunch, and grease their palms a little bit, do not expect the workers to go above and beyond the call of duty on what the landlords are paying them.
5. Friends who are willing to sit through the dust and debris while you're not home and get black lung all in the name of friendship, truly love you.  Treasure them! And by all means, ply THEM with coffee and lunch too!
6. Everything looks better with a fresh coat of paint, even ratty toenails!
 

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!

This is a test of the emergency broadcast system!

In times of emergencies, I could always be counted on to be the broadcast system, dishing out helpings of woo woo - God has a bigger plan...This is the Universe's way of telling you to shift gears...One day at a time...Energy goes where attention flows...Bless it and let it go...blah, blah, blah. It has gotten to the point where some of my friends teasingly refer to me as Happy Jacq.

Last week, the freelance job that I have come to depend on for the past almost 11 years between acting gigs went poof! The comfort of a regular paycheque had been yanked from right under my hiney. Ouch! At first I was calm, recalling all the affirmations that I had so often recited to my friends in their times of need. But then, the little devil on my shoulder pushed the red fire alarm button and PANIC began to set in. I was on the verge of sending out invitations to my pity party when I had an "aha" moment. Happy Jacq was being tested, a test of her emergency broadcast system! Did I really believe all that feel good, self-help, woo woo stuff that I so often dish out in huge helpings?

After forgiving myself for being human, I donned my goddess skirt, lit a little sage (can't stand patchouli), sat in full on lotus position, and this physician (with a little help from caring soon-to-be former coworkers, and friends who love me dearly) began to heal herself! We live in a world where there is a plethora of self-help tools at our fingertips. But reading and reciting won't do much good unless we also believe and apply the stuff. So say it with me, "This too shall pass."

Namaste