Oh

And a redirect would probably make sense too.

Tumblr is kind of where it's at, at the moment...

sunnilydisposed.tumblr.com

xxx

Four Months Later

It seems tumblr has lured me in with its less pressuring blogging atmosphere, and all the relatable quotes and pictures LOL.

But I feel bad for neglecting the old blogspot.
So here I am...
"So let us go out to him, outside the camp, and bear the disgrace he bore. For this world is not our permanent home, we are a looking forward to a home yet to come."

Hebrews 13:13-14

Read these verses this morning during my devotion, and they hit me so hard. Earth is not my home - I’m not supposed to fit in, there will undoubtedly be moments when I feel like I don’t want to be here anymore, like I don’t belong, like I shouldn’t be here.

Last night, it was my good friend’s birthday, and she was going to a club to celebrate. I told her (last minute) that I couldn’t come because I felt convicted. I didn’t want to be in that sort of atmosphere. I wasn’t planning on drinking or dancing, but I knew by just being there, I’d feel uncomfortable. Not that it was somewhere too dark for my light to shine, but that I honestly don’t believe it would have been fruitful. I knew that I had to stick to my conviction.

I was almost swayed when she replied to my text and told me that she’d been let down by a lot of her good friends. One of the worst feelings in the world, for me, is to let a friend down. I had a minute where I was almost swayed, my desire to please man reared its head and I tried to persuade myself that if I went, I could be a witness, and it would be the loving thing to do for my friend. But I was not convinced. And surely, to let God down, should be the worst feeling. I was a little down, but comforted by my mister and my homegirl. And then, to God be the glory, I woke up this morning and was greatly encouraged by these scriptures.

We are called to go outside the camp. Out to Jesus. For the camp is not our home.

Hush, child

It's been an unacceptable length of time since I last posted.
Over a month in fact. Sincerest apologies. I've been busy living life.
Well, that's no excuse, I'm always living life.
This past (just over a) month has been wonderful. There have actually been three blogs that I meant to post, but I never got round to. And I think I'll wait a little while longer to post them, if I ever do.

For now, here's what you might label a pick-me-up...

One of my favourite scriptures Zephaniah 3:17 hit me with a visual today.

The LORD your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.

I love this scripture, and I generally focus on the last line.
The idea of God, the Almighty, Creator of the whole, entire universe rejoicing over little old me in singing is one of the most beautiful, comforting and humbling images.

But today, the penultimate line came alive for me.
'He will quiet you with His love'
I said it to myself a couple of times...He will quiet me with His love, He will quiet me with His love.
I wasn't sure for a second how to make sense of it, and then the visual.
I saw myself running around frantically, trying to make decisions, going from this career to that career, one thing to another thing, tiring myself out, rushing around, worrying, asking God to give me answers and then He just scooped me up in His arms and held me close, and literally quietened me, shut me up with His loving embrace. All the fears and worries I had were quakingly rendered null and void in the face of His unconditional, unfailing, neverending, amazing love.

In an earthly scenario, I imagined it like your closest friend not saying a word while you're ranting and raving about a situation, getting yourself worked up and angry, instead they just give you a hug so warm and loving, the hug of someone who truly knows you, a hug that calms you right down. Or a mother who gives her child a final, calming squeeze of reassurance, comfort and love, before saying goodbye as he enters a classroom doorway for the first time.

The Lord, who knows all, and has only plans of good for His children says 'Hush, child, I love you and I've got this, I know exactly what I'm doing.'

So yeah, I hope this is as much a comfort for you, as it was for me :)

Peace&Love

Home, Sweet, Home

Finished reading The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller a few weeks ago.
Sheeessss. That book was a LOT.

It was basically a break down of the parable of the prodigal son, which Keller believes should be called the prodigal sons. He mentions the lostness of the younger brother, then his gracious welcome back to the family by his father, the blatant message of the parable. But then he goes into detail about the lostness of the elder brother, an issue which is sometimes mentioned, usually glossed over though. This parable has been used as a way of showing the people in this world who are deep in sin, that there is always a way for them to come back home because of grace and God would be delighted to welcome them there, holding a feast and killing the fatted calf. What is missed out though, is the fact that the elder brother does not go to the party, he does not make it to heaven, or rather we do not know if he does. And the reason for this is not because of his outright disregard for laws, his disobedience, his disrespect, disloyalty to his father. No, it's almost because he is too good. This son represents the Pharisees, of whom there are many in the modern day. For them, it is their "goodness", their "unmarked slate" that stops them from entering the Kingdom of heaven. They are self-righteous and they become their own saviour. They are living a lie. There is a danger that, because they are so self-reliant and proud of themselves for being impeccable in a moral, legalistic sense, they will feel like God owes them something and will judge others who get what seems undeserved. When it actual fact, any blessing anyone receives, grace and salvation themselves, are undeserved. 'Why didn't I get that promotion? I've been to church every Sunday since I was born, been praying since I could talk and I always give to the poor. So and so got a pay rise at work and I didn't see him with his hands up at church on Sunday, he didn't even get there on time! He's not a true worshipper like me.'

Ohmygosh yeah. You get the point. Didn't mean to digress there lol.

What stuck out for me however, as Keller went on to write about other things, the human condition of Sehnsucht - a German word which has no direct English translation, but it portrays profound homesickness or longing, but with transcendent overtones.

He quotes C.S. Lewis,

"Our life-long nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation.'

These thoughts inspired the following poem;

Home

They say home is where the heart is,
I say home is where my Father is
That's why I'll never have a complete sense of getting there
Because there isn't here,
On this messed up version of Earth
But we'll be there soon
A home where tears are but a myth and suffering does not exist
Where there's no more hunger, just feasts
Where there's no more 'just war', just peace
Where the sun doesn't shine because His glory is sufficient
And He'll be standing right before us, no visions
Life as He had meant it to be
We were created for His glory,
Worship will never cease
and with ease we'll give Him all that He deserves
We'll be breathing perfection,
everything as it should be
It'll all make sense suddenly
and we'll fully realise the complete wonder of our Lord, His majesty
God gave us the gift of life and we were made for such a time as this
Right now, we see but, glimpses of heaven and beautiful as they are,
home won't feel like home until the gates are opened and like oil we pour in
It'll be like a child in a sweet shop or an art-collected entering a gallery of his favourite works
But we are the favourite works,
We're the grand design, glistening like a teardrop in Daddy's eyes
For now we'll live our lives in eager anticipation
for the moment when the world is put right
and we make it Home

<3

Sarah with a Camera...

So, this weekend has been super duuuper interesting to say the least. It's been super fun too.

I've brought the wonder that is the bicycle back into my life and I've made a vow to myself that I will cycle for at least a half hour each day. It's been two days and I'm already feelin it. Thighs are on fire! Feel the burn and that. Yeah.

It was another beautiful day yesterday, my body clock woke me at 6am, so I just decided to make the most of the day. Ran some errands and then set off to follow the woodland trail in my local park on bike. Armed with my camera and iPod, I set off and had the best time.

At one point, while I was riding down the lane, hair blowing in the breeze and floral dress billowing, CBR's Butterfly came on, and then a butterfly flew past my face! Oh, it was magical. I felt like I was in a music vid for the song. Ha. Sincerely gassed.

Anyway, here are some of the pictures I took...












Love.

Confessions

This blog is titled Confessions of an Anomalous Black Girl, so it only makes sense that I make some confessions...

1. When I see Tick R on BBM and have received no reply, I get kinda ticked off, but I never say anything because I think it'll make me come across as anal. And it kind of is anal. (I don't like the word anal but I can't think of a synonym)

2. I could count on one hand (and probs a few on the other too) the people with whom I truly enjoy spending real life time and with whom I am truly myself.

3. I think in tweets. When something happens, in my mind it automatically forms into a 140 or less character sentence. 'My name is Sarah, and I'm a tweetaholic.'

4. There was one period of time in my life when I super badly wanted to be in with the popular kids. I invited like the Queen Bee for a sleepover at mine, and she came. It was the best day of my life. I was in year 6.*

5. On occasion, I still take mirror pics.

6. I don't bite my nails and never have, but in an awkward situation it suddenly becomes 'a really bad habit that I'm trying to break.'

7. If I was to ever get plastic surgery, I'd get lipo and smaller feet. Maybe I'd just get rid of my feet altogether and get whatever new replacement for feet they come up with in the future. God forbid. Haha.

8. If I was to ever get a tattoo, I think I'd get LOVE on the inside of my left wrist. In reality, I'll probably just carry on self-inking. I like the fact that I can have different fonts depending on my mood and that it comes off when I want it too.

9a. I get annoyed with girls who have really nicely done, could-actually-be-their-own-hair weaves.
b. I get annoyed with (some) girls who have weave and refer to it as 'my hair'. We all know that you bought it so it is yours, but we all also know that you know that some people will believe it's your real hair, and that's secretly what you want.
c. I get annoyed with people who think that my hair is a weave. Or that I have tracks.**

10. I trust too easily and give people the benefit of the doubt too often. Not sure whether that's good or bad.

11. I let people get away with hurting me because I don't like conflict, and I don't think they'll value my feelings anyway. Or that they'll have a valid reason/point, and I'll just look like a mug.

12. Getting chirpsed used to make me feel good cos I thought it meant I was a certified hottie. Thank God I know now that the requirements for getting chirpsed on the good old streets of London are merely that you are a walking, talking female.

13. I care about what people think of me.

14. My laugh is not fake or exaggerated. It really is that loud. And I quite like it. Slash sometimes I wish it was a bit more...girlie, cute.

15. I can't cut in straight lines. It's something I've struggled with my whole life and it's been really difficult.

*My friends and I had divided the year into various different categories. We were the Cool Kids, there were the Weirdos, one I don't remember and thenn the Popular Kids. We decided though, that the popular kids weren't actually popular because no-one wanted to be their friends. Secretly, it was us who were most popular. Ha. I laugh on my own lapel.

**Yes, I am aware that something's not right about all of that. It's super bitchy of me. I really want to not have a problem with weave. I'm in prayer on it. Join me in said prayer, please. Ultra serious.

Well, 15 is a nice round number and I'm super tired so let's call it a day.
This was fun. I might do it again in like a month.

Love.

My God, the artist.

"The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other; nothing is deprived of its warmth.

The law of the LORD is perfect,
refreshing the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
The precepts of the LORD are right,
giving joy to the heart.
The commands of the LORD are radiant,
giving light to the eyes.
The fear of the LORD is pure,
enduring forever.
The decrees of the LORD are firm,
and all of them are righteous.

They are more precious than gold,
than much pure gold;
they are sweeter than honey,
than honey from the honeycomb.
By them your servant is warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.
But who can discern their own errors?
Forgive my hidden faults.
Keep your servant also from willful sins;
may they not rule over me.
Then I will be blameless,
innocent of great transgression.

May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer."

Psalms 19

This morning, having slept at 4am, I woke at 6.30am, because for some reason, I desperately wanted to see the sun rise. Ha, I'm truly a romantic.

Bleary-eyed, I took my iPod, put on Tye Tribbett - Chasing After You, ran up to the loft, popped the window and caressed awake by the cool wind, gazed in awe of the beauty of creation. One tiny and stunning bird skipped across my roof within my reach as I stood there, didn't know what kind of bird he was but he was super happy. It was actually such a beautiful start to the day.

But now I'm mad tired. Sigh =)

OI

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Last week, I went to dinner with my fabulous, big sister (we had Turkish food, it was so good). We left the restaurant at about 9.30 and had to walk down an inner-city high street to get to the car. Just outside the restaurant, a group of about 6 or 7 boys, aged around 10-13, I'd say, were walking and one of them being very observant spotted me in my 'I <3 Paris' t-shirt and asked, 'You love Paris yeah?' I love children, and I genuinely saw these boys as children so I didn't think it harmful at all to engage in conversation, so I responded 'Yeah man, Paris is the spot.' We were all still walking, but they had made a sort of semi-circle around my sister and me. Another boy, now on my left and up to my shoulder in height, says 'Does this hat look good on me?' I reply, after thought, 'Yeah it does actually, good look.' I think nothing of this, I was just talking to some young'uns who were kind of excited about life, or so I thought UNTIL the moment when one of them grabs my rear...

Yeah, this has never happened to me before, because any time a male approaches me in an aggressive manner when I sense that a rear-grab is possible, I'm extremely quick to shun: walk faster, head down looking at my blackberry, listening to music or replying with short phrases expressing my disinterest. This situation turned out in a completely different way, merely because I treated the boys as children (which they are) rather than potential sexual predators. Sadly, I was wrong.

After the first one, I squealed and told them off, but in a joky way, and then another one did the same thing from another direction, I squealed again. My sister turned around and did her big sister thing, directly challenged them about their unacceptable behaviour and one boy responded by admitting that he was bad, and didn't respect his mum or his dad in a very mocking and disrespectful, to my sister, manner. She was pissed. I was taken aback, but not angry for some reason. She told me to 'Walk faster. No, faster' so we did. They all started shouting, pretending as though they were trying to catch a bus, but when they ran past us I got more rear-grabs, and they laughed...there was no bus. Tasha, oh so wise with her strategies, saw the potential that they might follow us all the way to the car and so made us stop at the bus stop, where they then continued their hooligan shenanigans in a phonebox a hundred yards away from us. She took my phone and made a call, it was just for casual conversation with someone, but she knew that they would be on guard, just in case we were calling for back-up. Two minutes later, she said 'Let's go' and we walked to the car, unfollowed. She was not impressed at all. I was stunned maybe.

End of story.

So yeah, after that happened, I got home and just started pondering about the events that had occured that night. I felt sad. Sad that these young boys had probably seen older boys and even men doing the very same thing to women, and thought that it was okay, that it was their right to boldly express their lustful desire for a woman, no matter her age, race or occupation just because they were men. I was disgusted that for them, this mild form of harassment was a legitimate form of entertainment. One boy said something that stuck with me, 'I wanna hear her squeal again.' That made me realise that these boys, and all males who engage in what has been labelled 'street harassment' are on a dangerous power trip. They want to exert their dominance over women who can, seemingly, do nothing back. How many times have you witnessed, or personally experienced a churpsing male who sprays the sweetest bars but then switches like a light in an extremely menacing way the moment the girl coldly rejects him in front of all his boys. 'You're ugly anyway.' *Okay, so why did you start talking to me in the first place?* Silly.

Coincidentally, when I was surfing the Internet that night, I came across an article entitled 'Why Do Men Shout At Women In The Street?' I learned that this kind of thing happens in cities all over the world. In India, it's called 'eve teasing'. There and in Japan, they went as far as creating a women only carriage for night travel on the subway, as groping had been a problem for many years. A woman is quoted in the article saying, 'Women are advised to ignore it, and we don't speak up about it. Therefore, these men keep on doing it and push boundaries further and further' which is sadly the truth. What else can we do? I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling that if you fight back, you're being foolish and endangering yourself. The article goes on to say that street harassment continues to be a problem because as a society we've come to accept it, and allowed "men to be men".

Reading the comments on this article proved to be even more interesting as about 80% of the men who replied were on the defense, deeming the article to be hyperbolic, some saying what we women perceive to be dangerous harassment was harmless fun, others turned it around and saying that they had been made to feel uncomfortable by harassment from women. And shockingly in this day and age, the line about the things women wear came up. When one dresses like a slut, one should expect to be treated like one basically. Okay. One woman rightly said, 'Why are so many men missing the point? Women have to put up with lewd behavior from men on a daily basis - grabbing, men whispering obscenities as they go past, following us as we walk home - especially in cities. All while we're dressed normally in jeans or a massive winter coat. It happens every day - and men don't seem to realise this!?'

I'd been meaning to blog about this since it happened, but didn't really feel I had enough fuel for the fire. I blog about it today having attended my very first Black Feminist gathering yesterday evening. This was not their monthly discussion group meeting, but a showcase of art, mainly spoken word. (I was going to perform but chickened out, what a wasteman ha.) The evening was wonderful - a small gathering of like-minded females with wide smiles on their faces laden with support. When the floor was opened for a short general discussion, one lady, an American raised the point of street harassment, she said she'd only been in London for 2 months but had already noticed that it was so frequent, and it shocked her, she wanted to know how we dealt with it/why everyone seemed so "okay" with it. Two other ladies responded by saying that they had simply and regrettably become desensitized to it, and all the other females nodded in disappointed agreement. The conclusion to all the issues that were raised, whether they pertained to being a female, or being black, or being both, was that you cannot let the issue go unnoticed. Make noise about it. Blog about it. Create art about it. Join a group like the Black Feminist so you don't feel like you're going through it alone or brush it off because you think you're just super paranoid.

So, what now?
I honestly don't know. The article lists a couple of groups who are doing work to stop street harassment which is great, and maybe if we keep on shouting about it, just maybe, we might see a change.

(If that was a little heavy-going I apologise. Have a read of this great and more light-hearted take on the matter by a wonderful writer and hilarious lady, http://thecommentatorspeaks.wordpress.com/2011/02/19/a-bit-of-a-rant-a-bit-of-a-rave-part-2/)

International Women's Day

I planned to write quite a lengthy blog detailing the women in my life who had been influential in one way or another; why I thought it was important to recognise women and I also why I think that in recognising women we shouldn't so "femo-centric" that we forget wholly about men and begin to believe that they are superfluous, because they aren't...but then the day ran away from me. It's now 23:48, I'm extremely tired and I don't really have the energy to blog.

Sad but true lol.

I might write about all that another day...

Anyway here's a poem that I wrote in honour of IWD.

We have been the voiceless, but we are finding our voice
We have been the oppressed, but we are rising up
We have been the overlooked, but we are standing strong
We have been mistreated, but we forgive and are moving on

We are mothers, loving our children like there's nothing else worth loving
We are daughters, learning more as the years go by to appreciate our mothers and are"keeping them young"
We are big sisters, giving advice, lending clothes, doing hair and make-up, keeping an eye on potential suitors
We are little sisters, ever getting put in our place but attempting to listen and make someone proud,
We are wives, submissive yet supportive, virtuous and valiant, lovers and life sharers.
We are galpals, always ready for a round of drinks and a catch-up, never far from the phone with the same shoe size as someone for double the choice

We are united in our plight to be the best we can be.
We are role models for one another.
We are different, we are unique.
We are fighters. We are doers. We are lovers.
We are musicians. We are storytellers. We are nurturers.
We are bumps and curves.
We are loud.
We are quiet.
We are healing words.
We are comforting smiles.
We are anything we want to be.

We are woman.

The Good Old Israelites.

Whenever I read about the Israelites in the bible, I find myself getting really pissed off with them.
I'm reading through endless of stories of God pouring out His love on them and them turning their backs on Him. Then (either on their own or through God's wrath) realising that they're nothing without God and then asking for forgiveness and turning back to Him.
I'm just thinking, what is wrong with you guys?! You're God's chosen people whom He loves infinitely and you're just there doing wahala.
WHY don't you get it?
WHY would you ever forget how God has been so good to you?
WHY would you continue to slap Him in the face when He has provided you with all that you need and more?
WHY do you treat Him like crap?

But then I stop and it hits me...
I am just like the Israelites. I have been adopted into the family. I am now a part of the chosen. God has called me. God loves me. God delights in me! Yet time after time, I choose the world over Him. Time after time, I try and find happiness in the things of the world. Time after time, I seek acceptance in the approval and favour of man. I create idols in the form of my interests. I belittle God. I put other things before Him. I let myself get the glory when it really belongs to Him. And then I'm reminded by all manner of things that God is sovereign and I'm in desperate need of Him and I turn from the world and leap back into His arms.
Everytime I rediscover Him, He's that little bit more beautiful. But sometimes I wish I'd just be able to stay put, maintain focus and just DWELL in Him.
'He that DWELLS in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.' Not he that's in and out of the secret place as Jonathan's mother once put it.
And I pray that I, like the Israelites, will not be wandering in the desert, taking a ridiculous amount of time to reach the place He has called me to be because of my own stubbornness, disobedience to God or ignorance of Him.

God has started a work in me, and you, and He will bring it to completion. We will see our promised lands.

Rise Up, Africa

Inspired by the film 'Blood Diamond', in which Leonardo di Caprio as Danny Archer says "God left this place [Africa] a long time ago." But I know He hasn't.
(Lines 4 - 10 are lines from various African countries' national anthems)

Africa, God has not forgotten you
Rise up, Africa
God has not forgotten you
You will have a nation where peace and justice shall reign
Under your black star of hope and honour you will under God march forever more
You will again prove that truth can win after all
God will bless your land and nation and justice will be your shield and defender
Your glory will be raised high, God will hear your prayers
Your pride will be worth your esteem
The happy days of which your ancestors dreamed will come for you at last
North, South, East West,
God hasn't left you
God will forgive you
God will heal your lands and your hearts
Your minds will be made new
Your children will see all the beauty that they were destined to see
Your lands will be fruitful
Mother Africa, you are beautiful,
Your smile like the sunrise after a stormy night
And as the sun rises each day, you too will rise again
Riddled with wrinkles, your face tells a thousand tales of injustice, corruption, violence, but the sparkle in your eyes signifies hope
You are a mother who has prayed for her children
And your prayers will be answered
Africa, God has not forgotten you

El Amor Es La Palabra

So what with Valentine's Day being tomorrow, I thought I'd write about it. Go figure :)

Personally, I'm a fan of V-Day, though I've never done anything to celebrate it before (we won't talk about what happened a few years ago with some any guy, his friend, my house and monopoly lol) but it seems like a great reason to celebrate. It's all about love, right?

After doing some research, I've discovered that no-one actually knows for definite what its origins were, some seem to be pagan rituals from the era of the Roman Empire and others from the Roman Catholic Church, the most popular is the tale of the Bishop Valentine. Apparently, under the reign of Claudius the something, marriage was forbidden because this emperor believed that the reason for low recruitment to the army amongst males was because they did not want to leave their wives and children. Despite this decree against marriage, Bishop Valentine performed weddings in secret as he felt it to be of great importance. One day, he was discovered and thrown in prison and subsequently beheaded. During his time in prison however, he fell in love with the jailer's daughter and the night before he was to die, he sent her a letter which was signed 'From Your Valentine' and behold, the a tradition of being someone's 'Valentine' commenced.

Anyway, aside from tradition and these tales of old, it's still a fly day in my opinion cos it's all about LOVE. The greatest gift of all.

It's just been like a keyword of late; it feels like I never really cottoned on to how bananas love actually is! It's CRAZY. This is God's love by the way. The love through which the whole world was made. The love by which the whole world was saved. Unconditional love. Everlasting love. Overwhelming love. Mind-blowing love. Man oh man, it's a beautiful thing.

V-Day doesn't even have to be about like you and your guy or girl. If you're in a serious relationship, then obvs like, you can dedicate the day to each other, that's special lol. But if not...tell your mum you love her, tell your best friend you love him/her. Even better, tell your enemy that you love them. That'll be tough, but when you let God's love work through you and manifest to that person who you really, really don't like, it will be amazing. [Before doing this, you have to forgive them as well. Unforgiveness is a major hindrance to true love].

Also, I think it's okay to say that Jesus is your valentine, even when talking about it in a romantic sense. You're in love with him right? He is your lover. So, yeah. Makes sense to me.

Well, these were my musings on Valentine's Day. I think I'm gonna go write some sonnets :)

In preparation for reading week...

So, I headed to my uni library today in pursuit of Ntozake Shange's acclaimed play 'For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When The Rainbow Is Enuf' (I'm yet to watch the film, grr)
I found it, happy days and decided to take out the copy that included two other plays - 'Spell #7' and 'The Love Space Demands'. I noticed that I was in a pretty fly section of the library, plays and poetry and so my eyes began to wander across the shelves; drawn in by the old-school hardback and gold lettering, they stopped at 'The Collected Works of Effie Waller Smith'. I carefully pulled it out, opened to a page at random and it was filled with short poems and the line 'Our Father, whose unchanging love/ Gives soil and sun and rain.' I was sold, into my clasped arms it went, resting against the Shange play. Walked a little further down the aisle and happened upon Tennessee Williams' plays, I haven't read anything he's written which I think is terrible, and so I grabbed a title I knew well 'Cat On A Hot Tin Roof'. (Desperately wanted to see that on Broadway - Phylicia Rashaad, love her - but I missed it). This then reminded me of Langston Hughes who I love so I took out a biography of his life and his own autobiography 'The Big Sea.'

Content with my findings I proceeded to the checkout machine when my mind suddenly remembered Jeni's disso. bell hooks was someone whose essays I really needed to get my hands on, so I looked them up, wrote down the code and made my way to the 5th floor - sociology
section. On my way however, I passed world literature, sigh. I had now acquired Wole Soyinka's 'Ibadan', 'South African Short Stories' and 'Inside Black Australia - An Anthropology of Aboriginal Poetry' (Ridiculously hyped about that).

I finally make it to the 5th floor and locate all bell hooks' books. I think, okay, let me just get one cos you know, I've got enough already. But I was really struggling to chose, it didn't occur to me that I'm here for another month so I could always come back for a next one, so I got four. 'Black Looks', 'Sisters Of The Yam', Talking Back' and 'Ain't I A Woman'.

Twelve books in total. And I'm looking forward to a magnificent reading week of actually reading. (It doesn't matter that these books aren't part of my course...extra-curricular, mind-opening, all that jazz. Yeah.)

I'm yet to finish my book on The Hottenot Venus by Rachel Holmes. Brilliant by the way, highly recommended.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

The final verse of Amazing Grace, one of the most beautiful hymns ever written.

The lyrics are so powerful, so uplifting and there's so much truth in them.

When I sing this last verse though, it's like my spirit soars.

The concept of eternity is so unbelievably difficult to comprehend, especially for our human minds where every thought we conceive, every plan we make, everything we know is constrained by time.

Then one day. BAM. Eternity. That's like forever and ever and ever.

And all our evers will be spent worshipping the Most High.

New Jerusalem, son. You wouldn't wanna be anywhere else. Seriously.

I can't wait.

Boxes

Started writing this over the Christmas and finished it this morning :)

It was really weird actually, the evening when I decided I was gonna write on this concept, I was doing some youtube poetry watching. After watching for like 40 minutes, I clicked on one vid and was like okay, after this one I musttt go and write my poem. And oh the irony, the poem I started watching was based on the same concept as my unborn poem. It was so bizarre.
I went on with the poem anyway, but I'm thinking, unintentionally, it will now have elements of the poem I watched in it. Never mind...
(It's consciously a typical 'im black(and asian) and proud/them and us' kind of poem. My views to an extent but highly exaggerated. Cheeky bit o' feminism in there too. And Christianism? :/ that doesn't exist but you know...)

Boxes.

In some respects, we are nothing but lettering and numbers on various pieces of paper and cards.
From birth certificates to passports to drivers' licenses to the forms we fill in every single time any single things happens.
Same questions.
Name. Date of birth. Gender. Race. Race.
(Although that won't be taken into account at all in the processing of this form)
Please tick the box which applies to you
Tick. The. Box.
Tick. The. Box.
How dare you try to squeeze me and my heritage into one tiny box?
Mixed: white and black.
Mixed: white and asian.
Mixed: other.
Mixed: other. Is that all I can tick to represent what I am?
The rivers that ran riot through the souls of my ancestors cannot and will not be contained by your box
The Gongola river where they washed their clothes and washed their souls and were born anew
Mass gatherings at the Ganges to soak their far from sullenly coloured saris
And give their young freedom to splash and wade as they pleased
Your box cannot and will not define me
The contours of my countries nor those of my corpus do not course in straight, angular lines, they will not fit
In fact, all of your boxes fail in their attempts to imprison me within their categories and subcategories
My female form will not be fettered
The ebbs and flos of she, the bump when life begins inside of me are not lines and right angles, they are curvaceous and round
Like the sun and the moon
Naturally in tune with nature and the natural

In actual fact I refuse to fill your forms and be filed away

Take me at face value

Look at my face and evaluate,

cos when you look into my eyes, you'll see more than could ever be imagined on a piece of paper or an electronic checkbox

Listen to my voice and let the decibles of my laughter ripple through your bones and then you;ll begin to know who. I. am.

Don't need to be packed in boxes and put in storage on the shelves of society, standing idly by as worthless as my ancestors were once said to be. I will be seen AND heard.

Four walls won't suppress me.

I'll jump out of the box, spread my wings and fly

Nothing to hide

Even better I'll soar on the wings of the Most High

And yes, I'm a Christian but that's not to say that I can be defined in a cube of stereotypes

I'm not "happy clappy" or a "bible basher" or "boring" or "restrained by the rules and regulations of my religion."

You need to unfurl the lines of this convenient little box you've put me in and gaze at the cross upon which my Saviour hung, when He personified love and became the sacrifice.

Perfection slain for my sake. And yours.

So take me and yourself out of the box that society has put you in, define yourself in Christ, look at you as you are seen through His eyes, cling to the cross, don't allow this four sided mathematical form to mould you or form you, oppress you or cause you to conform to the ways of this world.

Renew your mind, look to Christ, in Him you'll find peace of mind, while eternity awaits.

Kompelling Kitchen Konversations

Sitting in the kitchen in my halls last night, a most interesting discussion emerged between my friends and I about perceptions of beauty in relation to race; why there is (or why there used to be) so much negativity veered towards being dark-skinned and why girls who are 'lighties' get more attention. We talked about the idea of bleaching, how children are affected by society in terms of what they think about being black, who was to blame, how it could be changed. This group of friends consisted of four extremely intelligent and opinionated black girls so the conversation was...loud

We talked for a while on the stigma created amongst our peers on dark-skinned or girls or boys. Y said that she had always been the darkest of her sisters which was obvious but was never seen as a negative thing, and for this reason she never understood why dark girls didn't feel beautiful. She was mad, as were the others, at girls who would avoid jamming in the sun in summer because they didn't wanna get dark; at girls who would immediately conclude that 'she thinks she's too niceeee' just because she's light-skinned or mixed race; at boys who in their narrow mindedness only churpse 'lighties'. We talked about the diction used when discussing skin colours, 'ohh, you're lucky, your skin is ligghhttt', why was it enviable to be light? 'you're not even that dark though' as if being dark was a bad thing. A key phrase that kept popping up was 'slave mentality'. A still taboo subject. Can this generation of black people really attribute their negative or misconstrued self-image to the way their ancestors were treated during the days of slavery, institutionalized and vicious racism? I can't lie though, my mindset at times genuinely is one of inferiority. I often find myself (as discussed on twitter with jeni) trying to prove myself to white people of the older generation. I'll let them go through the door first, or pick up something they've dropped or apologise when it's in fact them that stepped on my toe. I'll talk loudly on the bus about the good university I go to, and the fact that I play classical piano or that I have a job or that I'm not promiscuous or that I go to church simply so that they don't immediately form their own negative assumptions of me. But why do I assume that that is what they are going to do? And why do I feel I have to show that I'm worthy of their approval? Sounds kinda crazy when put like that, but it is what it is. I'm essentially accepting the negative stereotype that I know is put on black people and it's not cool.

It's only even of recent that white people have wanted to be tanned! Everyone knows that back in the day to be a pale was a sign of wealth and nobility because it meant you weren't doing manual labour outside and getting beaten by the sun.

This then digressed into the mention of bleaching, something which we all find kind of appalling but essentially very sad. It brought to mind Jeni's uni project from last year on skin bleaching (jendelland.blogspot.com). We thought it madness that the connotations of being pure and wealthy and better came from having fairer skin. Think about some of the product names even... Fair & Lovely. (I haven't forgotten that Dark & Lovely is a household name)

The way in which the media affects our opinions then came up. We talked about how, when growing up, the media in every form was strongly dominated by white people. It's a lot different for children today, there a things like 'The Princess & The Frog', 'Handy Manny' - who has a fresh Latino accent lol. But there's still that ugly sentiment that lingers in the air. E's little sister, who is almost the same complexion as me, wished to be white for her 9th birthday. Apparently that wish got seckled nicely with some good old Nigerian discipline lol. A little girl in my church who is being brought up in a very affluent, white area and goes to a school where she's surrounded solely by white girls and boys, told me once that she wanted to be white...(I then proceeded to tell her that being black was beautiful of course)

Thinking back to my childhood, I wonder what kind of thoughts went through my mind. I lived in quite a working-class white area, I went to a predominantly white private school and my church was mostly 1st generation africans or west indians studying for qualifications while holding down a job. One crazy mixed-up up bringing. I guess I could never really pin one stereotype to one group having visited the humble, 2-bed houses of my neighbours and the splendid mansions (literally) of my classmates.

E then told us about a social experiment she'd once heard of where young children had two dolls in front of them and when given characteristics, had to pin them to either the white doll or the black doll. The black doll was coined as stupid, bad and poor, and the white the opposite.

Here's a link to an article on a similar social experiment...

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=7213714&page=1

(Interesting how the majority of my searches show sites from America)

Been doing some research on the topic this morning and came across a social experiement called Brown Eyes/Blue Eyes conducted by an elementary school teacher from Iowa in 1968. She split up her class between the blue eyed and the brown eyed, told the blue eyed that they were superior, and they were treated as such, given a longer breaktime and other privileges...the brown eyed were told they were inferior, ostracized and made to wear collars. The result? The brown eyed pupils became hostile and performed poorer on tests. When she reversed the experiment, roles quickly reversed in turn however the brown eyed students felt more sympathy for their peers having already experienced discrimination.

Whose fault is all this anyway? Can we still blame it on the accepted and ubiquitous racism that has existed up until very recently? Is it the wrong doing of the media? Is it our teachers, our parents, ourselves? Difficult to tell.

I'm Going To Kill Myself

Poem I wrote like two years ago. But the message is still as relevant as ever.

Dying to the flesh daily is a MUST and it's the hardest thing.

I'm going to kill myself.

Yep I'm doin it, no-one can stop me.

But don't worry this aint another piece of emo poetry,

It's an action taken a lot more knowingly,

for those with a lack of knowledge shall perish

and I'm not perishing,

rather grabbbing onto life in its fullness and holding it tight

cos, I've fallen for the light,

the light of the world who stepped out into darkness

here I am to worship You

bowing down at Your feet

with all I have to offer You,

there's always more that I can do

and kill myself, that's what I should do.

Sacrifice myself unto You.

Killing the flesh, that I may have eternal life,

Eternal life with my Heavenly Father,

A day to end all pain and strife,

When there will be neverending laughter.

It's time for my flesh to die.

It's time to say goodbye,

and never look back

For I am now a new creation

Old things have passed away

My new Christlike self is here to stay

It's a brand new day, the sun has risen

Thank You Father

That Your Son, The Christ has risen.

And the word of the day is...

Complacency.

Definitely a word with pejorative overtones, it's something I wouldn't ever want to have nor a trait I'd ever want to be linked with. But as a Christian, I feel as though I should steer even further clear of it.

'a feeling of quiet pleasure or security, often while unaware of some potential danger, defect, or the like;

self-satisfaction or smug satisfaction with an existing situation, condition, etc.'

By all means, one should feel secure in Christ, in the knowledge that His grace has got you and won't ever fail you, that He'll never leave you nor forsake you, but you can't sit back, get comfortable and let God 'do His thing.' It's not about taking grace for granted either, which I think is one of the essences of complacency - holding things for granted. And the danger, looking at it secularly, is losing the thing which you've gained. So in a Christian sense, I guess, sinning against God unknowingly and living a lie?

The thing which really gets me about this word, or its definition rather, is the idea of 'self-satisfaction.' Complete audacity in my opinion, to be self-satisfied in the fact that you are saved, like say you saved yourself. Sorry, sit down and flick to Romans 3:23. (I really am talking to myself as well here)

Too many people treat God like a genie, claiming outrageous things in His name and praying for material things, for themselves. I'm not writing off the fact that people can be blessed by God, and part of living is having material things, but that really cannot be your focus in life, and certainly not your focus in your prayer life.

The idea that we can become smug in our salvation genuinely disgusts me. It just shows me again how wretched the heart of man is. How can we forsake the fact that God reached down and stretched out HIS hand to pull US out of the miry clay of sin in which we were mercilessly drowning?

I guess it's also a problem of starting to become proud of yourself for being 'a good Christian'. For saying all the right things, showing your face at all the 'happening' events, tweeting all that you learned in your daily devotion and knowing all the lyrics to all the latest gospel tracks. But as with everything, it's bout the condition of your heart. What's the motive? This also reminds me of the NYE sermon title. Are you serving God for love or for reward? Are we really doing all these things because we genuinely love God or are we doing it for reward - whether they be rewards from God in the form of earthly blessings, good grades, a good job, money; or whether they be rewards from man in the form of approval, praise, an infinite number of followers on Twitter etc. Galatians 1:10.

It's a hard one and I really am talking to myself here but yeah. I rebuke the spirit of complacency amongst believers and pray that we are able to boast only in God, serve Him and only Him with a pure heart, not seeking the approval of man and just living a life of real, honest, sincere worship because that's what God deserves.

Mmm, food for thought.

Peace&Love.

Let's Get the Globule Gyrating

Haha, Thesaurus.com really is my friend.

Hier ist einen Poem...I remember writing this on the night I said that I wasn't gonna watch 'The Grudge 2 (Japanese version)' with the amigos cos it didn't sit well with me. It dawned on me that my refusal to watch the movie and my refusal to ever 'go out' would cause them to think that I was on some 'holier than thou' tip and was judging them, when really it's not like that at all. So this was the product of this thought.

Titled with the date on which I wrote it.

15.11

I'm not saying that I'm better than you

Or more holy than you

Or more worthy of God's loving arms than you

In fact I wish you heard me screaming the complete opposite at the top of my lungs

I AM NOT WORTHY!

I just want you to know that I'm not looking down on you, no not at all

For when I'm flat on my face, prostrate on the floor in humble worship of the God who's done above and beyond what I deserve from Him,

The only place I can look is up.

I'm trying so hard to become the person God wants me to be

The kind of person who doesn't conform to the world

But is transformed

And maybe that comes across as stubbornness

But trust me,

My thoughts are more of a mess

Than yours

It's a process

And for me

I must outrightly resist the things that my flesh desires

Finds appealing

The things with which it conspires

To orchestrate my downfall

Sexual tension tighter than violin strings

The deep bellow of the cello echoes my deep thoughts of things

Unspeakable

My failure to surrender my everything to God requires more attention than the rave or the club

I'm not being super spiritual when I say I don't feel right about engaging in certain activities

I just don't want to voluntarily immerse my soul into captivity

And no, I'm not boring

And yes, I'm flawed and

Sometimes I'm wrong

And I've nowhere near worked it all out

But yes, loudly I will shout

I'M A FOLLOWER OF CHRIST

just trying to live my life right.

Greetings

I've just moved over here from my top secret blog so let's start over.

Allow me to introduce myself...

Sarah, 18, Londoner.

Christian as a lifestyle choice not a tick box religion. Got serious love for the Lord.

First entered the blogging world because of a friend who had started a blog, but would only let me read it if I started my own.

I write poetry, and I'm starting to write short stories.

I sing, play the piano and guitar and I write songs.

I love the theatre, and will soon say the same thing about the ballet (Swan Lake, March 24th. Yes).

This blog title is inaccurate as I'm technically not black...I have a Malaysian mother and a Nigerian father. Ergo mixed-race. And I loveee it.

I'm currently in my first year at the best university ever.

And I like food.

In this blog, I intend to share everything. I'll post my poems and stories up here, maybe a few songs if I'm feeling particularly wild;) I'll also write about things which interest me, sadden me, make me happy, general thoughts about life and I'll probably always find a way to link it to God. There will be posts about facets of Christianity, controversial topics, general words of encouragement.

Basically, it'll just be little tidbits of my mind metamorphosed into html coding for your reading pleasure. It's gonna be beautiful. Just sit back and relax :)

Peace&Love.

This is Planet Earth, The Year is 2011...

Just home from celebrating the cross-over from 2010 into 2011 at church, same way I did last year, and the year before and every year back to 1992 meets 1993. It's such a beautiful way to enter a new phase in life.

And though it's but a change in date, merely a recommencing of the glorious Gregorian calendar, psychologically, and I think spiritually, it's so much more.

A new year brings new opportunities, a new wave of hardships and a new age at some point in the year, and so new year's eve is a good chance to come together with God on things that will happen in the year. New year is the perfect moment to embrace a new outlook and a new attitude, ready to be nurtured over the course of the year.

Celebrating at church is actually the motive. Starting the year with God, dedicating it to Him from the very second it begins is something special. I guess it's one's way of saying, 'here God, take control.' And that's really the only way that, as Christians, we should be living, letting God's will be done in our lives on a daily basis and giving everything to Him.

Two hours into twenty-eleven and I'm pumped! No idea what this next 365 days is gonna bring but I fully cannot wait. I'll be 19 in four months :O I'm hoping to do some big things pertaining to music and writing. I'm gonna study super hard - well I say this but it's never been in my nature to do so, so I'll have to try really hard on that -. Most importantly, I intend to put God first in everything. And also just enjoy Him! Bout to get to know Jesus like a lover this year, it's gonna be wild. So excited. Psalm 34:8. I sincerely pray that these things come to pass, it's not about saying bare stuff and then doing nothing. Faith without works is dead, but it's only by the grace of God init. Just pray above all that His will be done and it's all goooood.

Looking forward to documenting the goings on of 2011 on this here blog too.

But for now sleep calls.

Peace&Love.