My beautiful Mess! (A Life Lesson)

So, this past Sunday, I was up and at 'em in the kitchen! For years now, I have been the designated macaroni & cheese maker for my fam, so when I come home it's a certainty that I will be brewing up a fresh pan of hot, cheesy carbs! Last Sunday when I made a pan, I knew I was a little short on cheese. I don't know why, but for some reason my dad always gets the wrong ingredients at the store. One would think after YEARS of buying the same stuff, He'd have it down pact by now! Soooooo not the case...Anyhoo, I made the macaroni and due to a shortage of shredded cheese, the milk rose to the top of the pan and kinda burned the macaroni. It looked soooooo bad! Even though the situation was honestly beyond my control, I was still embarassed; however, as everyone ate it they raved about how good it was. When I tasted it, I was shocked! It was honestly one of my best concoctions ever. The top layer, which I presumed to be burned wasn't actually burned, it was just overcooked to a very dark brown. It made the macaroni taste sooooooo good for some reason...Then a revelatory beam hit me in the face: Jason, what you presume to be not good enough, is more than sufficient for some. Those who know me can attest to the fact that I am very critical of myself and the things I do. I always strive for perfection, and when I fall short, I let it be known to the world. But this little pan of macaroni has really altered my perception. Sometimes, my mess is beautiful to somebody else! I have to keep in mind, that everything is not always about me and if someone else can get satisfaction from and be blessed by something that I write-off as "a mess," I'm going to let them! Perfection is nice when it is attained, but when it's not, is it really worth minimizing someone else's blessing, to appease my warped sense of perfectionism (vanity)????? I'm working on myself folks!

Unrestrained Acceptance (A transparent plea for forgiveness)

If Christ is in us, why is it so hard for us to put on the attributes that characterized His life. In Romans Paul teaches us that it is no longer "us" that live, but God is now living through us. Tonite I feel particularly guilty and somber. I have no doubt that Christ is truly within me and He so free occupies my heart, mind, and time. But right now in this very hour my heart is subdued with a heaviness for all the wrong I've ever done to people, particularly non-believers who I was supposed to be a witness to. I'm at a point in my walk with God where I am truly over all the excuses. I'm ready to be even more like Christ, and if that going to take place, I need more of His love to envelope my heart. I get so tired of this era we are in. In my opinion, people are at an all-time high, in terms of seflishess. Everything is all about "I." "I don't play," "I keep it real," "I will tell you off." Where is meekness in telling someone off? Where is humility in "keeping it real" which is a silent license to blirt off the first thing that comes to mind? I mean seriously, in the New Testament Christ minimized the 10 commandments down to a few instructions and one was to love our neighbor as we love ourself, and that is honestly not taking place! We preach blessings, promises, prosperity, but in the words of the late Donnie Hathaway and living legend Roberta Flack, "Where is the Love?" I have attended church with people who FLAT OUT hate each other! No in-between, no veiled reservations, just flat-out HATRED! WHY GOD? I mean it's ridiculous...Then let us not forget the non-forgiving saints who are holding onto things from God knows when. Then instead of actually forgiving them, they say "I'll forgive them, but I won't forget." Oh my God, if God's mercy and grace were meted out to us in that same ration, we'd all be perished by now! I'm imploring each and everyone reading this to take time to do inventory and think about whether the fruit of the spirit is a TRUE part of your life or is it just another scripture committed to memory in vain, with no modern relevance. Ya'll, we really have to do better in loving each OTHER and carrying the legacy of our Father God (Jesus). Make HIS characteristics YOUR characteristics TODAY!

My Prayer: Lord it is my prayer that you would forgive me for flawed thinking, being manipulative, and operating in any other spirit that is unlike You. Please forgive me for not being the freely accepting, transparent, loving vessel you intended for me. Continue to bring out of me the attributes which you possessed when you walked here on Earth! Lord and I'm asking you to atone me for any word or deed done to any person that fell short of your Lordship. Continue to lead me down paths of righteousness for YOUR name sake! In Jesus' Name..Amen.

True Love: Divine Entitlement? or Earned Priviledge?? (Ode to Mommy and Daddy's Big Day)

First off, I want to take time to bid my parents a Happy 33rd wedding anniversary! It is to this blessed and sacred union that I was birthed and have become the man that I am today! I love you Mom and Dad and I wish you 33 MORE years of blessed matrimony! My parents, who each had one prior unsucessful marriage both say it was their strong friendship, common family structure, and their maturity that has been the binding factor in their marriage. I've witnessed their valleys and low-points, but somehow they ALWAYS bounced back! In analyzing the completeness of my parent's union, I often wonder does fate divy out soulmates by an hidden incentive system or is everyone naturally entitled to find a true love??? Honestly, sometimes I believe that a person's divine call on their lives can be too much for some spouses to handle. But then again, it seems natural that everyone should be given the opportunity to be happy in matrimony. It's just all very taboo to me. On one hand, the divorce rates of this country speak for themself. It proves that either people just have bad choice in spouses or there are alot of selfish people out there. From my experience, I've seen alot of people go into marriage for the wrong reasons or some look to complete themself by finding a mate. I am a witness, that you can be a complete person without being married. Self-sufficiency is something that you have to attain before you enter a marriage. I say that because if you are not able to function on your own prior to marriage, once you tie the knot, you're always going to have your nose up your spouses's tail and that will get old after awhile! For me, divorce is not an option so once I get married, I have full intentions on staying married until "death do us part," like my vow states. But heck, doesn't everybody say that before marriage? I guess that's while I'm still single. Until I feel that I have 150% found the right one, and until I feel I have matured in some integral areas, ya boi will be chillin' single! What are your thoughts???????

Ignorance or Racism???

I figured that I was pressing my luck as the sign on the door clearly said we do not accept $100 bills. So when I was gently turned away by the seemingly pleasant older lady, I didn’t think twice. It was only after I went to my vehicle and got a few bucks from my best bud Roxanne, that I returned back to the gas station and to my chagrin...The same lady who told me that they did not have change for $100, was divvying out change for a hundred to a lady of her same race who entered the store as I was leaving. But here’s the shocker, when I got to the counter, I shot her a look that said “are you serious?” She replied with a little smirk on her face as to say, “Yeah I did it, and what you gonna do about it?” The evil in me came to surface, instantly! My nose and eyes were easily 300 degrees farenheit. Fortunately, the Christian in me which keeps me from telling folks how the hog ate the cabbage, stepped in--sparing the old lady from being read from here to El Paso. I smiled, and even rendered the ‘ole prune pit a good “God bless you,” and proceeded back to my car. This happened on Saturday and today I’m still wondering would this be an example of racism? Or is it just ignorance? I know that MANY times the word racism is used out of context, but this was just one situation I could not distinguish the difference between the two…..

The "Emotional" Man

So it is 2009, and it would seem fitting that we are part of an era where we can “keep it real” if you will… Permit me not to be cliché-ish, because I hate that phrase as much as the next person…It’s so vague, and what exactly is real anyway? A little too subjective for my liking. Anyhoo, back to the discussion at hand. Is an emotional man REALLY accepted or wanted? Now when I say emotional I mean one who goes a little above or beyond the usual emotionalism of a man. I can paint a clearer picture but if necessary I'll come back and do it for you, LOL! I hate generalizing and tend to avoid it at all costs, but I can’t count the amount of women that I’ve heard express the desire to land a man who is in touch with his sensitive side. What exactly is it in an emotional man that a woman longs for? Is it compassion—a deep desire to want to feel sensitivity oozing out from the male’s open heart? Or is it something more along the sexual? Perhaps, maybe a woman wants to feel a different aspect of sexual sensation rather than the incessant thrusts of male testosterone? Or could it even be mental? A vexed desire on behalf of the woman to see her man be stripped from dominance and lay vulnerable at the helm of her prowess. LOLOLOL! Ok I know I’m going to far, but who really knows? I will say this, however; once you entice the Emotional Man to appear from amongst his camouflage of communication breakdowns, evasiveness, and other non-verbal communication barriers, expect him to stay! I think many women rant on and on about wanting an emotional man, simply because they’ve never had that experience….God forbid if they get the experience, don’t like it, and like a bad nightmare, want it to go away! From my experience being a man, I will say this. Once a woman opens up a vulnerable part of a my heart, it is expected that I will always be able to show that woman that part of me. And from experience, if that security is threatened, it can cause a bruh to CUT UP! Remember ladies, once a man's manhood is threatened, in ANY facet, he is NOT going to act right! Now, that’s just my personal experience, so this isn’t 100% factual, I can only document on that which I have experienced myself. I guess where I’m going with this, is all my life I have always heard women defined as the more emotional being while us men are more physical. This is flawed teaching. Now, I will relent to the fact that women are more emotional then we are, but we still do have emotions. It took years of maturity before I could even admit that harbor some emotional scars. Does that make me less of a man? No. Even as a grown man, there are still some childhood experiences that to this day cause me to feel some kind of way! Unlike some men, I’ve learned balance. That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger right? So, I’m good. So ladies, before you bust the floodgates of heaven down praying for a man that is in touch with his emotions, proceed with caution. I’ve seen many chicks that have bitten off more than they could chew and ended up being married to a man that was by far more emotional than her! Opinions and feedback always encouraged! Let’s empower each other with knowledge, wisdom, and experience!

The Miraculous Meltdown

Meetings galore. Clothes need to be dropped off at the cleaners. Bills need to be calculated and paid in a timely fashion. I have decided to pick up a few hours of overtime at work this week. I have an impromptu meeting at church tomorrow. Kids need feeding. Etc etc etc.

*Screams*

Tell me, when does it all stop? DOES IT EVER STOP? Some say it never stops; however, I am the exception. When I can’t take anymore, I must summons the driver of this train called life to let me off in order to reassemble myself. Yes, I said reassemble. After sooooo much being on the go, I started to feel like I wasn’t even a real person anymore, but more like a machine. Then on top of that, I still had to exert what mental power is left to figure life's emotional & mental areas that need to be tended.

Maybe I am weak or maybe I’m one of the individuals who is bold enough to actually relent and say “I can’t take it anymore.” For months, I felt like I was becoming consumed to the point where I actually feel I couldn’t even help anyone. It is a scary feeling to feel that way.

So, I have done just that. I've taken a BREAK from it all. My mind has rested. I can actually think and be creative again. I can actually sleep at night without my mind working trying to figure out the issues of life.

I want to know what is your breaking point? Do you just go, go, go until you faint for exhaustion? How do you renew yourself? What drains you more physical activity or emotional conflict?

Bad-Side of a Good Boy

Written by JR Scott for Rasilliant Rhymes 2008

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
tell me what you see...
In weakness, I stand there helpless,
in all of my vulnerability.

I've always prided myself on playing by the rules.
Trying to finish with valor and secure my Godly jewels.
But playing by the book, hasn't gotten me far
So often feeling forsaken, my mind is infested with scars.

I see my reflection as I conduct an inspection,
but under close detection, I sense an insurresurrection
of the evil which was spawned during my mother's conception.
From these wicked thoughts, my soul needs protection.

My image threatened by a deep dark hole.
The bad now jeopardizes the well-standing of my soul.
I try to hide, but I cannot escape,
the feeling which bequeaths me and makes me so irate.

The veil between insanity and stability lies thin
I'm stable for now, but I soon may give in.
To the black, gruesome thoughts that tempt my waning mind.
Hatred and malice jeopardizing what used to be kind.

After considering all stakes, I'll let the good boy remain
Good works and deeds will my hands yet maintain.
But to those that would test me, please be alert:
In a second, into a hellion, I can easily revert.

Pulling the Scholar out of the Mediocre Student

I knew that I possessed academic potential, I just didn’t know how to pinpoint it, and apparently neither did many of my teachers. I was always branded as the student who was lazy, refusing to put forth the extra effort, but honestly, I was not. Lost would be a more fitting description. I didn’t know what I wanted to be nor what I wanted to study in college. Occasionally, I would go through seasons of motivation, but these brief moments were usually overshadowed by a negative comment or being overlooked. A high Grade Point Average seemed the only way to gage a successful student, and since I was only a B/B- student, it was highly unlikely for me to be labeled as gifted. I knew that I could be a scholar if I really tried, but where would I begin? I lacked the stage and the confidence needed to display the gifts within me. Lost in mediocrity, I would feel isolated in my own academic abyss. It even got to the point where a teacher suggested to my parents that I be taken off of college-prep course curriculum. It would take a stream of relentless English teachers to finally unveil what my passion really was, English and Writing. Unfortunately, many students similar to me reside in our classrooms today. The hierarchy in the class room must be shifted in order to meet the needs of all students, not just those performing well. To focus the majority attention on the stellar performers puts the average student at a severe disadvantage. Just as praise and accolades motivates the scholars to continue to achieve, indifference and neglect pushes the average student more into their own world. It got to the point where I would only academically perform for the teachers who met my need as a student. I can never forget my first time during my English class in 9th grade, when I asked Mrs. Cradle how to spell a word. She called me up to the front of the class, handed me a dictionary, and in the friendliest, sternest voice she said, “look it up.” I spent the entire year “looking up” words I didn’t know how to spell, but her insistence and sternness landed me with the highest score on our spelling final exam. I had finally outdone the so-called smart kids, and for that brief moment, I felt like the smartest student on the planet. It wasn’t just the 98% that moved me, it was the recognition which I received. It did wonders for my confidence and it reiterated to me that it takes extraordinary methods to reach extraordinary students.

I am NOT My Hair!

It was sheer terror that gripped her face. She took two cautious steps back, gripping her purse with enough force to make her pale fingers turn red. As I gaged her facial expression, my mind instantly began to weigh out the possible factors contributing to her fear. Perhaps, it was the broad shoulders mounted on my 235-pound large frame, or maybe it was the fact she was in a small elevator at 1:00am, or maybe there was an evil beam radiating from my brown eyes. As I offered the gentlest, “Hello” I could muster, her countenance seemed to exhale. As my mind raced to understand why she seemed so afraid, I suddenly realized what was causing her discomfort; it was my stocking cap. Most would think that the infamous melody penned by India Arie would apply to only women, but as I rode the elevator with this frantic lady, I wanted to scream to her I am not my hair! I have always tried to make it a personal vow to not to go in public with my stocking cap or doo-rag on unless I absolutely have to, but knowing that I had a 8:00am seminar to attend the next day, I didn’t have much choice if I wanted to showcase my deep hair waves that next morning. The irony of the story is I am a good guy. I have never been arrested, had a warrant in my name, or for that matter, never even been suspended from school; however, because of the stocking cap on my head, I was presumed to be a criminal. Taking precedence over the racial profiling and the ignorant stereotyping just cast on me like a spider web, was my pride. My feelings were hurt. I was just 24, feeling like I had arrived, traveling cross-country, staying in a 4-star hotel by myself, and because of a stocking cap, my confidence was hurt. Maybe I was in the wrong for wearing a stocking cap in public, but I’ve witnessed other ethnicities wearing their head-coverings too. I felt that no matter how educated, polished, or refined I felt I was, I would always be seen as a possible threat to others who didn’t share the same skin color as me. I returned back to my room to ponder on this ludicrous encounter I just had, and it dawned on me--you really can’t compete with ignorance.

Yesteryear's reflection

Yesteryear’s Reflection
By JR Scott for Rasilliant Rhymes.

A lone tear gracefully descends down my brown, prickly cheek.
A second tear forms, vowing to follow its predecessor.
However, a vaguely familiar image catches my attention.
I squint and look closer, certain that what I see could be no more than a mirage.
Perhaps my vexed and perplexed mind is erecting a fictional character.

I move in closer, determined to put my drifting mind at ease.
But as I inch in, my pupils lock in complete contact with a familiar image.
It is not a figment of my imagination.
The sheer innocence takes my breath.
The vulnerability in his eyes paralyze me.
Tears now frozen, I pause in my tracks.

Taking the time to acknowledge that which is before me,
I cautiously place three fingers on the dusty glass.
His hand follows mine—his fully stretched hand doesn’t even compare in size
to just three of my fingers.
He stares at my hand, imploring for guidance, without even uttering a word.

Even further subdued, I look down.
Ashamed.
His presence before me telepathically asks a question that I know I hold the answer to.
Suggesting a season from the past to which I had surely succumbed.
Why couldn’t I protect the young boy on the other side of the mirror.
As desperation oozes out of his eyes, he feigns a smile to reassure me.
However, I am not convinced.
I know his fate just as he does…

Just like before, the moment before the image is ushered away from me,
paralysis grips me.
I yell but my screams go unheard.
I flail my arms to rescue him, but they are stiffened by a deathly grip.

Dejavu.

I realize that on the bridge to manhood, many planks remain missing.
Will those be eternally removed from me?
Or will the answers I’ve longed for be revealed to me in a later season of life.
These areas my mind I dare not tread.
The mystery of things I always wanted to ask but couldn’t.
The recurring nightmare from whence I could never fully escape.
The ingrown heart defect that I’ve always camouflaged.

They all disappeared with Yesteryears’s Reflection.