Remembering Neannette

The excitement of going out of town was only heightened by the fact that my new, 1-month-old nephew was accompanying us on his first family trip to Indianapolis. This was no ordinary occasion. Our beloved Neannette was turning 70 and had no clue that the entire family was coming to surprise her for her birthday. I could hardly stifle my excitement as we inched our way to her door. A muffled scream is all we heard, and then laughter...and then there were tears. Tears which symbolized the deep love which fills a room with audible affection when no ones even speaking. Then, there was laughter, loving-insults, and a room full of more love than which ought to be legal. Mom and Grandma scolded Neannette for the way she looked and the way her house looked. "Mother, you should be ashamed," I can almost audibly hear my grandmother say. This celebration overflowed to a local Ryan's, which also included our then matriarch, Aunt Marguerite, who too, was meeting baby Joshua, the newest addition to our family. We all looked on lovingly as she broke him in with the family ritual of spoon-feeding him coffee. Josh is now 23, I'm 32, and our beloved Neanette is no longer with us. But even as I type this, the love, the pride, and the bond that has sealed the foundation of my life all ascends to the surface. And I realize...that even though she's no more, she's manifested herself in my family's lives in so many facets. Losing a loved one leaves a deep void and it often causes me to ponder, who will ever love me like she did? And even though I've yet to answer the previous question, I can forever dwell and reminisce on precious memories such as these. Still remembering you, Neanette! With love, Jason

Community Crisis

I’ve searched deep within for words to address a growing concern. It seems the longer I toil for the correct ones, the more frustration continues to fester within me. Then, there’s the fear of alienating others by gauging an issue that pertains only to the black community. It seems every time I bring up a ‘black issue’, people tend to incorporate the issue into general society, feel I’m being exclusive, or are just simply unwilling to address the issue. However, my mind constantly revolves around the current state of our community and what can be done to push things into a more positive direction. This whole expression of ‘doing me’ has driven many to focus away from community and more on self. It saddens me to encounter so many great people who act oblivious to what’s going on (or what’s not going) in our community. These people often describe themselves as great—have great jobs, careers, and are faring reasonable well. However, the burden to contribute back into the society they were born into is nonexistent. It’s ironic how we often struggle so greatly to express ourselves as individuals that we fail to realize that the search for identity is pulling our community apart. Pop culture is affecting us to the point that it has contorted many our goals and it has even altered our definition of success. We’ve been so busy ‘doing it big’ lately, that we have forgotten to ‘do it’ at all within our communities. As we strive relentlessly to attain benchmarks of superficiality, it appears the true need within our community has gone untended and almost forgotten. How can true identity be established and one feign internal contentment while totally abandoning the needs and issues plaguing their direct community? How can one tout success, yet do nothing to make an impression on the environment in which they derive? Oh how I long to see the strong communities that I was privileged to be reared in by people who came together to work for a greater goal that was a bit bigger than an individual. Yes, we are individuals; and also may even have personal goals we seek to obtain. But we still are a part of an integrated society that is greater than the accolades that one person can achieve alone. To all my black folks (LOL), I humbly ask you to consider how your personal success can change the black community for the better…

The Ingestion of Pain

The concept of pain is universal and we all experience it; however, the way pain is processed is where the ambiguity comes in. In considering the way I process pain, I realize that I’ve tried many coping mechanisms. At one time, I felt repressing painful memories to the point of amnestic abandonment would work. Boy, was I mistaken. That only works until you come across something that triggers a cognitive relapse and opens the memory’s floodgates—allowing emotions to spring forth like a hot geyser. One of the worst scenarios of internal pain occurs when we are unable to forgive. That type of pain consumes and eats away at time, relationships and ultimately, one’s conscience. Once the conscience has been consumed by such negativity, bitterness breaks out like a stage IV cancer. I’ve come to the realization that time can be a medicine to pain, but ONLY when we decide to take it in prescribed increments. And while stubbornness won’t stop the hand of time, it can certainly paralyze the process of healing. As a child, I was told that it takes seven years to digest gum. Though this proved to be a myth, there was indeed a lesson in this generational folklore. Unprocessed emotions get stuck within our emotional digestive tract and without the necessary attention, will infiltrate even the purest of emotional exchanges. Refusal to address pain keeps you cyclically returning to the very source from which the pain originates. Even still, processed pain is designed to extract positive growth. There is a purging of sorts which occurs when we allow the affects of pain to strengthen our emotional muscle tone. However, the intent of some pain is to intercept personal fulfillment and to leave a bitter residue to cloud our judgment and to sour even the simplest of intentions. With this portrait of pain drawn, I am now accountable to approach pain quickly and honestly as possible. Why be evasive with feelings we’re left to process daily? Of course, it is tempting to ignore taboo subjects altogether, but what does that do to personal growth? A situation or a person may not change, but does that mean that I can’t? God forbid. Before I allow pain to progress into ugly manifestations of discontentment, I’d rather address it. Rejection, humiliation, betrayal, and disregard are all potent tools that lead many into the snares of addiction. But for some reason, I just believe that if I tackle these feelings head on, it’ll eventually strengthen me into a man who is transparent in his experiences, proactive in reconciliation, and one who can make the pathway clearer for others treading behind me…

Toxicity

No matter the avenue or the place, we are ALL faced with the dilemma of avoiding toxic people, things AND relationships. Aside from what's on the exterior, we must contemplatively weigh the costs of coming into covenant with people whose value systems don't align with ours. A waltz too closely with obscurity can lead to tragedy. In the past, I've allowed toxicity to poison the path to my destiny with open arms. In order to thwart the enemy's attempt of allowing this to happen to others (or myself again) I had to share these thoughts...Enjoy

TOXICITY by J.R. Scott

So new, so fresh—full of hope, spice and zeal.
My newfound excitement, I can hardly conceal.
The very prospect of newness triggers a rush within.
My senses so enamored, I opt to ignore my chagrin.

Places in my heart that have slept far too long.
You’ve easily awakened, with your lyrical, sultry song.
I cling to every word, and the potential of forever—
Barely able to contain myself betwixt our endeavors…

The things I’d never say, you express with pure ease.
Places my mind won’t go, ‘cause my nerves won’t conceive.
Where inhibition prohibits; you weave between all the lanes.
And to the simplicity of normalcy you adamantly refrain.

Toxicity is what I see; but pure ecstasy is what I feel.
Yet I fail to precisely weigh, what’s fallacy versus real.
You’ve taken me all the way there: somewhere I can’t relent.
I’ve wielded all control to the beckon of your consent.

To where this road will lead me, I temporarily evade.
Choosing rather to cling to a hope, which may not even stay.
Ignored every warning sign that foretold of your instability,
While your antics slowly charmed away all of my rigidity.

The “following my heart” clause really meant negating my soul…
And that meant signing a pact to forsake all control.
The driver’s seat I let you take, blind and unseen.
Now my course and my path lay ransacked aside a ravine.

The venom of your sting affected more than meets the eye.
I volunteered to drag race in a dash of do or die…
Do I regret it? I still can’t call on account of my heart.
But I heard common sense whisper; we were doomed from the start.

The inoculation to your toxicity was a dose of absolution—
Partaking of your fruit, I could ignore my need for resolution.
Stalking complete, my guard you defeat—this episode is sealed.
Now I’m toxic, too, all out of chasing sporadic thrills.