Looking in the Mirror

Spiritual Revelations for those seeking Humanity in Humans ~~CordieB.

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A Spiritual Riddle – This spirit questioned right from wrong

Once upon a midnight blue
When you were me and I were you
And everything was tried and true
A dark spirit of our selves shown through

Though my eyes were brown and yours were blue
We at first appreciated the differences in hue
Why they were different, we had no clue
But embraced the beauty, through and through

Then on that midnight starry night
The gods awakened, causing stress and fright
Fear was something we had never known
Whether close together or all alone

We had all we ever needed or ever would
We could achieve anything that ever could
But on that dark night, once upon
The gods became bored of creation . . .
And so the games of life begun . . .

"How can we make them not forsee
That they are one and all as we?
How can we make them entertain
If they know that all are one and one’s the same?"

And so the god of unimpressed
Purposed to put forth a simple test
No pain was known to men back then
It was invented to see how best
Two lives would deal, and who would win
Pain produced me; thus I produced what you call sin.

Sadly the test failed miserably
Soon you became you and I became me
And so the gods changed destiny…
of how life was suppose to be.

This spirit often called out of name
Whose first intent was to bear blame
To make you look at me as I
And question differences to why
We were not exactly both the same

This spirit questioned right from wrong
And high from low and short from long
Discarded the weak, embraced the strong;
And though we both stood side by side
And knew no thing of foolish pride
This spirit borne proudness so great
That pride turned quickly into hate

As pain was never in the original plan;
For any living creature, including man.
Back then we were much like the beautiful tree
Who gives all of herself and love just to be . . .
And co-create in God’s creativity….
No pain is felt by the morning glory
Who each morning tells a most lovely story
The grass is not pained by the trample of man
She embraces the walks on her bountiful land

I’m told the Creation God attempted to correct this aweful woe
By instilling in animals, knowledge of everything they’d ever need or know…
But most humans remained retarded in their abilities
To  see the the forest through the trees…
For despite having knowledge to eliminate pain’s dark shadow
Pain’s offspring remained, Who am I . . . (Click below for Riddle Answer)

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Lessons from the Hood – Perhaps you can find it; I’m tired

Jamal

Jamal - RIP

It’s 5:15 in the morning and I’m turning over in a blissful dream; for which I forgot the second I was awakened by the evil one – the telephone.  It’s my daughter, Michelle, she calls me for the most trivial things. . . so I’m not really alarmed by the fact that it’s 5 in the morning . . . just slightly agitated.  I immediately notice, however, the urgency in her voice  . . . I sat up, realizing this is not another trivial call to ask is 100 a high temperature for her 1 year-old.

"Tu-Tu’s been shot," she’s crying in the phone.  "Aunt Sandra and Tan need a ride to the hospital."

I rub my eyes, trying desperately to get my self together.  A thousand memories come into my mind . . . like when my sister informed me that my other nephew, her son, was found dead near the house.  I was at work then. . . I remember the horror of the reality. . . I’m trying to focus back on what my daughter is muffling on the phone through her tears and sobbing. . .

"What do you mean, Tu-Tu’s been shot.  Where is he. . . what hospital?"

"He was found by a lady last night lying in the street.  The police came by Aunt Sandra’s house this morning to let her know that he’d been shot twice in the stomach.  No one knows his condition."

I’m trying to keep my composure.  I’m so sick of bad news; so sick of crying, grieving for my young.  After a bit of conversation, which I can no longer remember, I hang up to call my sister.

Tu-Tu is her Grandson.  She loves him, as she loves all of her children and grandchildren, but the worry we have for our young men is such . . . indescribable.

His other grandmother, Ms. Peggy, answers the telephone.  She informs me that Sandra has already left to go to the emergency room.  She’s in tears, crying. . . "why would someone want to shoot my baby . . . why they wanna hurt my baby . . .  "

I look up and realize it’s on the news.  A 15 year old boy was found around 11:15 last night shot, apparently twice in the stomach.  The victim remains in critical condition . . . anyone with information . . . please contact the police. . .

I’m feeling really scared now.  I feel so helpless.  I wonder how long he had lay there before he was found.  I say a prayer that God mend his wounds. . . heal his tissues –  bring them back together – please God – let him survive!  As I pray frantically in my mind for a miracle, others are praying too.

As I arrive at the hospital, I see my sister and my niece, Tu-Tu’s mother, Steph, sitting outside – with the look of somberness I’m become far too accustomed to seeing.  My heart drops . . . I’m trying hard to hold my weight up.  I’m strong . . . I can do this.

My niece is the first to speak.  She and I are the same age – actually she’s a year older than I.  We are like sisters.  We never had to experience the experiences our children face when we were growing up.  We had such good times in our youth.  It’s so sad that our children can’t have the fun we had. . .

"He’s in recovery.  They performed surgery.  He’s recovering from the surgery.  The doctor’s say that he’s a lucky young man. . . the bullet took a part of his liver off and the other bullet is still inside of him – it can’t be removed.  They say he can expect a full recovery, almost.  He’ll be able to function pretty normally.  No need for bags or anything like that. If either bullet would have been a fraction of an inch higher or lower, it would be a whole other picture."

I feel relieved.  "God still hears our prayers," I say to myself.  "Thank you God," . . I say out loud.  I visit my nephew for a short time.  He’s pretty doped up with morphine, but he acknowledges my presence. He tells me he loves me and to go home and rest.  He’s so brave.   I break down and cry when I look at his frailty.  He looks younger than 15 in the hospital clothes and bed.  I am reminded again how much danger our young men face each day in this neighborhood. . . city.  I cry, I sob at the miracle of survival and at the sadness of the existence we face each day.

In the aftermath . . we don’t know why Tu-Tu was shot.  It’s a suspected robbery; but he had nothing of value, other than a metal dog chain – which was snatched from around his neck.  He was riding a bike.  It was stolen too.

Now here is the kicker . . . the part that I don’t understand.  Tu-Tu knows the assailant.  Although he doesn’t know the motive, he knows who is responsible for leaving him for dead.   Yet, he refuses to identify the assailant to the police.  "That’s snitching," he tries to convince me, his mother, his grandmother, his sister and all of us who feel it is imperative that he identify this boy who shot him; leaving him for dead.

He becomes angry when we report the suspect to the police ourselves.  He believes that there will be retaliation against his family or something.  But what can you do.  Do you sit like a pawn awaiting the day when he may try again . . . do you fear to that degree what the street will label you if you let the police know who tried to kill you?  Are we putting Tu-Tu’s life in danger by reporting it ourselves; thus having the "street" labeling him as a "snitch."

The police are no help without Tu-Tu’s testimony.  All we say, they consider "hear say."  They can’t pick up this young man and take him off the street because his victim refuses to finger him.  Although many people, like his mother, sister, grandmother, and myself are not afraid of the punk or the consequences, Tu-Tu is sticking to the rule of the street – No snitching under any circumstances.  To do so will bring danger upon those you love.  We realize that this person is dangerous; and he will kill eventually.  But we are left with our hands in the air.  Our words hold no value to the law.  We are not eye-witnesses.  The police do not take our words at face value.  And yes, I know the law is meant to protect the innocent from false testimony – I have no answers.

Tu-Tu and his mother go to court.  No questions are asked of Tu-Tu; only of his mother.   She’s informed, matter-of-factly, that she can only answer the questions by saying yes or no.  Questions like:  Is Tu-Tu left unsupervised while you work?  Yes.   Has any of Tu-Tu’s friends been killed this past year.  Yes.   Is he part of a gang.  No.  It seems they are victimizing the victim even more.  A committee will decide what the next action will be.   Tu-Tu’s mother is informed that if anything happens to the suspect, Tu-Tu will be arrested.  So far, we have heard nothing more on the findings of the committee.  Inquiries only give us the run-around.

A month has passed and Tu-Tu goes back to school only to see, guess who, sitting in the front of the class.  The boy makes the gun gesture with his hands and point the gesture to his head and at Tu-Tu.  A fight ensues.  The boy’s uncle comes to the school and asks the police to please take him off his hands.  His parents are no where to be found. . . he has been nothing but trouble.  The police inform the boy’s uncle that the boy is a juvenile.  That they can’t lock him up for hear say.  They ask, what would we charge him with? The uncle says, I know he is a killer.  I can’t prove it by eye-sight; but I know.  The police say their hands are tied.  It is not enough.  The need an eye witness.  The only eye-witnesses refuse to testify or are dead already.

The police pick up the boy and some friends in Tu-Tu’s neighborhood on the same day.  Word on the street is they were looking for Tu-Tu.  They were found with a gun in the car.  The juvenile is again released – as the gun could not be proven to belong to anyone in particular.

So . . . I ask you . . . what is the lesson.  I’m too tired to figure it out.   Perhaps I should send this to the local news paper. . . because no one seems to care about young black men killing each other . . . as long it stays in the hood.   Would not the police and court response have been different if this had been in an affluent neighborhood?  Why are these two still in the same school.  Are not our kids suppose to be protected in school?  I just don’t know what to think. . .

It’s been two months since Tu-Tu was shot.  Each time I hear gun shots I’m reminded of the incident and call to assure he’s in the house.  I’m afraid to let my own son, who is also 15 out of my site.  Although he and Tu-Tu hang out, Tu-Tu won’t even allow Sam to walk with him to the corner store any more.  Sam often walks anyway.  Homecoming game is out of the question.  It’s scary.  It’s sad.

It’s yet another beautiful, yet deadly day in the hood.  Another young man was shot last night.  My daughter called me around 10 last night to let me know Jamal was shot.   This morning around 5:15, she called to confirm he didn’t make it.   This morning we mourn the loss; reflect upon the life.  Jamal was 19, married young.  He was trying to do the family thing.  There is always envy in the hood when one tries to do the right thing.   We do not know who did it.   .   .     We will most likely find out on the street today who it is.  It won’t make a difference though…

Written by CordieB.  I wish it were fiction; but it’s true.

The latest news article on Jamal is here

A Spiritual Riddle – The Most Demon-Like Spirit of All Times


Photo courtesy of daphid and is licensed under a Creative Commons license.

Some say I’m the most demonic-like spirit of all times;

I have been responsible for a many cacoethes crimes.

I’m the most wrathful spirit known to touch the hearts of men

If not put in check, I can cause all types of vengeful sin.

My rampant rage is likened to a storm weathered battered sea;

My face can become so distorted, you would not even recognize me.

I am red, blue hot; flaming fierier than hell in a forest fire;

I am truly not myself; and you know what?. . . the devil truly is a liar!

I am completely irrational; incoherrent, and out of control;

My emotional complexities reach down to the depths of the very soul;

Don’t come near me; don’t look at me, don’t dare say one word.

Because, I can only hear my own anger and my vision is blurred.

I’m sometimes tamed and charmed by sensual music; a little wine and dance;

But, If I were the object of my desire, I would not even take that chance.

My eyes are bloodshot red with a glimmer of green, and I tremble from inside;

There’s a thin line between love and hate; but it’s not love; perhaps hateful pride.

Whatever it is, take heed my love–for you have been forwarned!

Don’t touch me; Stay your distance; Run for cover, I am the spirit of . . . (Click below for the answer)

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Thoughts

I thought that being angry with you would take away the pain

I thought that lying in another’s arms would make me whole again

I thought that not saying I love you would vanish the love away

I found that through it all – I love you anyway

I found that acceptance was truly what I needed

Once I let go of of the anger and blame, my heart conceeded

I feel blessed that I have loved you beyond all limits

I feel blessed that I loved though pain, joy and destructive habits

I feel blessed that I have learned real love through all the drama

To realize unconditional love brings forth inner streangth; call it good karma

I’m feeling more of myself again since I let go the blame. . .

of me and you and all the entities wrapped in this game

Acceptance that our being one may cease to be

I realize this relationship simply may not be our destiny. . .

I’m blessed to know what real love is – I thought I did before

but loving you for who you are is tried and true and sure

Loving withought conditions through all eternity. . .

And the wind whispered softly, what ever will be . . . will be

And the wind swept back and added, don’t forget to love yourself

For without self there is no love; or nothing else. . .  

~Written By CordieB.

I’m Tired! `Written by CordieB

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Deshun Taylor – 14 year olf killed while walking home – not the intended victim- an innocent life gone so soon!

I’m tired of living in the hood
Where gray is brain and red is blood
And children would leave if they could
And poor families are often misunderstood
I’m tired of seeing young folk roll in chairs
with wheels who can no longer climb the stairs
not because they were born with such disableness
but because they were shot; blessed to live no less
I’m tired of seeing mothers sobbing and crying
whild holding a child on the street that is dying
I’m tired of seeing fathers sigh
while cursing God and asking why
I’m tired of seeing brothers and sisters mad at the world; feeling defeat
because their brother’s been killed by their friend down the street
I’m tired of seeing whole neighborhoods in dispair in need of repair
And everyone talking but nobody’s walking the walk or showing they care
I’m tired of praying for an uneventful day
Instead of for real things, like people should pray
I’m tired of the fear to walk to the store
or call the police for fear of turf war;
for fear that my own children will bear consequence
of me aiding the law makers in stopping the noncense.
I’m tired of not having the words to say to a relative
whose lost her son and is trying to live on and forgive
I’m tired of not knowing just what to convey
to that parent at the funeral – tell me what would you say?
I’m tired of mothers and fathers not teaching their own
about life respect and those many seeds that should be sown
instead of street, drugs, disrespect and tit for tat
thinking thug is cute; in the drug game with wallets fat
I’m tired of parents loosing all control
of their own self-respect to their 12-year old
I’m tired of parents being too lazy, tired or scared to disipline
Or trying to be cool; you can’t be a parent and be his friend
Even a real friend tells a friend right from wrong
Not leave it up to him to find out on his own
I tell you! I am sick and damn tired
of young babies with babies who end up expired
before they are 20; oftentimes even younger
What happend to neighborhood unity; I wonder!
I’m tired of everyone scared to speak up
of the filth and the rubbish that is all down the block
In fear of that thug down the street with a glock
I’m tired of whispering a prayer of relief when I find
out the teen laying out on the street is not one of mine
I’m tired of no activities; no community centers
No movies or skatelands; no positive mentors
We’ve all dropped the ball on a whole generation
of young people who know no love from our nation
I’m tired of those who refuse to inconvience themself
for the benefit of the life of a child, inspite of themself
I’m tired of the talking papers, the reports and surveys
The crack and the smack and lean that causes brain decay
I’m tired of the empty prayers placed on the shelf
I’m tired of the hood; I’m tired of myself.
~Written by CordieB. 

Every Friday, I usually join my Photo Friday club;  This week’s theme is Unlucky .  I was simply too sick and tired to take a picture this week – besides, I couldn’t think of anything more unfortunate than the loss of a child – some call it unlucky – some call it fate – some call it God’s will.  My daughter’s neighbor’s child, who was only 14 year’s old was killed on Wednesday while walking home.  Word is that he was not the intended victim; an innocent bystander.  One of the bullets came through my daughter’s window, along with more bullets that came through other neighbor’s windows.  I’ts a blessing that no one else was hurt.  I’m whispering a prayer for the family of Deshun Taylor, I can feel his mothers grief.  I pray that she will be able to make it through this terrible time.  I’m whispering a prayer for all of us, although I’m sick and tired!    

————-

Update on Deshun Taylor’s case: 

All three suspects in the Wednesday killing of an East End seventh-grade middle school student have been arrested, a crowd mourning the death of the slain boy learned last night.

The mourners were gathered for a candlelight prayer vigil in the 2200 block of Fairfield Avenue, near where 14-year-old Deshun Taylor was felled by a bullet Wednesday about 2 p.m.

Alicia Rasin, an advocate for the families of homicide victims, announced shortly after 8 p.m. that interim Police Chief David McCoy just had told her the third suspect had been caught.  Read More . . .

More Posts and News

A few of Comments from Richmond Citizens

Vigil Photos