Category Archives: Cleanse

The Contours of Voice: Meditations on Vocal Revolution

I’ve been a reader all of my life. I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t read or didn’t pick up a book intent on sopping up the words written inside like a giant sea sponge. Books helped me to understand voice. As the descendant of enslaved peoples who were forbidden from reading as well as a grandfather who only went to 6th grade because he was needed to work on the farm but read the New York Times every week, my mother insisted that we read instead of watch television. Reading was revolution and believe me, we did it well. 

 I remember reading Toni Morrison’s “The Bluest Eye” one summer. I was 13 and had just gone through a traumatic rape the summer before. Unlike Pecola Breedlove, there was no unexpected pregnancy to broadcast my shame and I hadn’t told anyone, not even my mother or best friend. I remember sitting with this book in my hands and feeling as though I could escape to a better world. Was it true? I still don’t know. What I do know is that books have saved my life. In high school through to college and even now after “entering the real world”, I find myself caught and enthralled by the words of black women writers. Audre Lorde and Toni Morrison, Alice Walker and Ntozake Shange, Toni Cade Bambara, L.A. Banks and Mia MacKenzie. 

What is it about black womxn writers? We’ve found a way to save ourselves, to continue to use our voices even though to know your own voice is revolutionary in itself, and to transmit that voice is power. But lets back up, because as usual, I fast forward when I talk about black womxnhood because I get excited. 

Reading is one thing, writing is another. I’ve never really been a good writer in the conventional sense. I hated writing papers but I’ve always kept journals from childhood to present day. Something about academia and the way it sought to stomp out my individual tone rather than build it up gave me intense anxiety. I am a procrastinator by lack of spirit at the right moments and while I intend to to do things in a certain fashion, if inspiration doesn’t hit, well then I’m stuck there in front of my computer wishing and waiting for the writing gods to bless me. I don’t do well with deadlines and finality. But isn’t consistency, key? In the polarities of life, how am I finding my voice?  

Voice changes. Literally. Our vocal capacities change with time. It’s proven. Sometimes our voices get heavier with time, raspier, etc. As our voice changes literally, does it change with perception as well, our artist voices a mirror of what our physical realities offer? Reading young Maya Angelou is very different from reading the seasoned woman. If we continue living, our views should continue changing right? We continue to adapt to the world around us or we die. I keep finding myself in states of aporia, where everything I thought I knew is actually what I don’t know at all. I’m constantly back to the beginning. I may not be a huge fan of old Socrates, but he was definitely on to something with the method of Socratic questioning that he learned from his African predecessors. Yes, I had to sneak that in there. 

Learning my own voice is a constant state of questioning. Nothing is final. What I love today, I might despise tomorrow. Everything changes just as the seasons do or don’t. #ClimateChange. But seriously, what is my style today? Who is it that I am today? What helps me to find my voice? In the midst of a world in turmoil, how do we, black womxn and on a larger scale, human beings find our voices? How do we reach those who need the physical help, and soul soothing needed during times of pain and struggle? 

Love Always,
Damali Speaks Xx

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Meditations for Loneliness & Other Ills That Can’t Be Cured with Simplicity

I don’t like sleeping with (fucking) straight men.
I have never liked sleeping with (fucking) straight men.
But I pretended to, because that’s what was “right”.

I’m attracted to them in so far as they intrigue me, much like a flower grown out of concrete.
I like to watch them when they don’t know I’m looking.

I see the planes and plateau’s of their voices.

I see the way they hold patriarchy and misogyny as loaded guns to be fired.

I see how they smile with pearls of white and eyes of black and how it can make my knees weak.

I see how they grow and change with muscle and dream.

I see the stunted way that emotions are squashed further and further down to Alice’s rabbit hole.

I cannot see a future with them, being who I am right now.
Who am I?
I am sexually female.
I have a vagina and a working uterus, breasts and hips, a round ass and I secrete estrogen and testosterone at certain parts of the month, sometimes year.
I enjoy wearing tight dresses and loose jeans stolen from my brothers’ closets.

I’m attracted to people alongside and without the binary.

I love differently. 

But…I don’t feel like a “woman” because gender seems rigid even though I know that it’s wide and open, still something I could never quite starve myself into. Womxn…all inclusive.

Let me make this clear. I am not transgender.

I am balanced and I still need to explore what that means for myself.

Being called “Queen” used to make me feel good and now I hear it and want to vomit. I am not royalty. I am spirit.

It feels like a cage I don’t want to be stuck in. I want fluidity.

I hunger for satiating sex. It’s been so long, too long, forever. Bare in mind that I said satiating, not just sex. That, I had…last month. I wonder when, why and how but honestly, right now I just want to let go. With kisses deep and limbs entangled touching every part of me. I hunger for depth and someone that I won’t later regret. I guess that’s love. Is it? Maybe it’s just sex. I’m horny as fuck, pardon the pun and I do love sex. So good. Like real and deep and no matter how cool I am, a moment doesn’t lie and heat is telling. Good sex helps me focus like masturbation but lasts longer before I need another hit. I’m twitching.

I love touch. It’s essential and overrated at the same damn time. Where did I get those expectations? Explanations? I explained them like I expected them to be who they were not. Still, I tried didn’t I? Do I get points for that? Oh, this isn’t weight watchers. Yet, here I sit on this late night train with tired thoughts and mourning brain wondering when my body will be good enough. Strong enough. Thin enough. Thick enough. Held enough.

I guess the perfect feminine forgot about me, or maybe I refused to tag along. I got bored of always being too much of “something” and not enough “no-thing”. Now I’m rambling. I suppose that black, womxn and feminine couldn’t co-exist outside a lovely box so I made something up. Made believed it fit. The truth is that what you find sexy about me is the exploitative. Or the balance. You like my truth. But my masculine sneaks through when you least expect it and unleashes countless amounts of venom. This small book can’t possibly contain all my truths. I’d need more ink. But since this train is still going, I might as well too.

I’m having an existential crisis at 25.  My soul feels more like 2500. Years. Old. What am I doing here? I was told once that I have books in my eyes. That someone could fall deep into them and never want to come out. I laughed at the reality with diamonds in my throat. My soul is too old to comprehend Cubic Zirconia. Some times, all the time, fake isn’t better. Last night, I spent hours on the beach engaged in my books, my oldness, my youth, my wombanness in that my sex is female and I can create life from a womb and I stood with water tasting my toes on a warm and well lit night. I thought “Wow, this shit is wild and so am I. Who the fuck will get me? Does it matter? Am I one that gets got?”.

I continued to miss intimacy, not sex because I figured out that post my achieved orgasm, I want to try to be held. Something different than my usual vanish and disconnect. That gone girl happens when I sleep with (fuck) straight men and don’t come for various rules of patriarchy require my orgasm be to his own liking. With anyone else, it’s different. Without “straight” as an elephant in the room, I want close, I want to try. Maybe that’s maturity, growth or just loneliness. Maybe it’s some or all. I’ve been interested in the pattern of breath lately. The rise and fall.

How alive am I?

 

Love Always,

Damali Speaks Xx

Flash Forward Friday: Passage Five

Cora sat beside her mother in wordless bliss as they drove home to their house. Words became a welcome additive to their world of deep communication and love. After a long time of centering and remembering what it felt like to be immersed in a world of love and acceptance, Andrena looked across at her daughter, who it seemed had grown even more into a strong and beautiful woman that she always knew would be there.

 “How are you, my love?” Air hung between them as the streetlights glowed in a steady motion from darkness to light. The car wheels hummed along the road and the whole world seemed committed to a space held in familial love. “I’m well, mom. I’m really and truly well. I feel like I’m ready for this new adventure. How are you?” Cora looked over at her mother and for the first time, she realized that her mother hadn’t at all aged. Her face and physique were just as clear and crystal and they always had been for as long as she could remember. “I’m well. So tell me about these dreams you seem to be having.” Cora looked over at her mother in complete shock. “How did you know?” “I’m your mother, I know everything.” Cora had two options, she could choose not to tell her mother, or she could choose to engage in the spiritual moment that she knew would be exhausting on so many different levels.

As they pulled up to the house, Andrena looked over at her daughter and smiled. “You can tell me later if you want. You could use some rest.” Cora tiredly picked up her bags and walked into the house. The house they shared was one of the oldest on the block, dating back to the early 1900s and was separated into two apartments, one downstairs and one upstairs. Cora had the upstairs apartment, while Andrena lived on the first. “I went food shopping, so you’ve got some food up there. I saged some too, so the space is ready for you.” Cora mumbled a thank you and walked for what seemed like ages up the stairs and inside.

She opened the door and everything was just as she’d left it. As a teenager, she had decided that the apartment was her “Chakra Apartment” with each room representing a different chakra energy center. As she opened the door, she was greeted with a deep blue that reminded her to use her voice daily. To the left was the creative room where she did most of her painting, writing and music production for the Root Chakra and grounding. Walking through the house, various colors met her eyes and she soaked in the healing energy and remembrance that they came with. With each room, her pupils changed as though downloading information from the very walls. By the time Cora reached her bedroom that glowed with a light purple for wisdom, she had put down all bags, removed all clothes and stood naked before her bed. It didn’t even seem likely that in her body as she was now, she could fold back the covers and crawl into bed, but she did. Sleep enveloped her like a friend that she had missed for so long.

As soon as her eyes closed, Cora saw a great hall, never-ending and blurring. As she ran through the hall the years passed overhead, to her sides and even below her feet. “It’s a timeline”, she realized. No years marked the hall, only memories. She saw her face flash by continually through years and years of clothing changes, industry, enslavement, ancient times, and more. As much as she wanted to stop and discover each time, something was pulling her onward. Cora continued to run down the hall of time to the very beginning as a hole seemed to open in the wall and a wave of blue light emerged, sucking her inward and upward.

Cora “awoke” to the grass beneath her feet and the sounds of a village in front of her. She saw women and children, teens and young adults. Some were singing, training, cooking, making art and weapons, etc. As she looked around, one small girl stood out to her. The girl looked so much like she had at that age. Her skin was a beautiful bronzed cocoa much like her own and her hair was frizzy and beautiful with afro puffs on each side of her head. She had on animal skin clothing and cowry shells around her neck. Her eyes were big and bright and glowing bright purple. She seemed to be concentrating on something outside of herself and as the world went on around the two of them, she wondered if the girl was a part of her imagination.

Cora bent down and tried to see what the girl must have been seeing, but she saw nothing. In her head, she thought,” Well this is helpful. Where am I supposed to be going?”. The young girl lifted a finger and pointed to a small hut on the outside of the perimeter embraced by trees. “There?” The girl said nothing, but continued to point. As Cora moved toward the hut, the girl disappeared as though she had never even been there. “Okay.” Cora said. She took a deep breath and slowly walked up to the hut. It seemed so close and yet the walk there seemed to take ages. She took notice of how tall the trees were and how green everything seemed. She could feel the heat of the sun and yet it felt glorious instead of hot and sweat producing.  She reached the hut and as she put her hand on the door make of oak bark, she felt a great change in the air around her.

 

Hello, Goodbye, Is it a Forever Thing?: Meditations on Human Existence & Saying Farewell

Hey Speakerz! So this week, I was surrounded indirectly with a lot of death. I personally am not as much scared of death as intrigued by it. When I scrolled through the news, there was so much of what seemed to be death and despair, but what I was most drawn to was the fact of human frailty. Today’s topic is on the human existence, death and rebirth.

From the time human beings are born, we’re forced to say both hello and goodbye to so many things in our lives. We say hello to our immediate family members when we’re born and then goodbye when they pass on. We say hello to our friends and as we grow and change, sometimes we leave them behind and move forward and new people come into our lives and stay or go. Every day, we wake up and say hello to a new day and the new possibilities that it brings in its wake. You’d think that we would’ve perfected the art of death and rebirth already. But maybe the question is, how does humanity embrace death and rebirth instead of perfecting it?

We live in a world that strives for perfection, yet human beings are undeniably flawed and that’s what’s so beautiful about us. We make mistakes. We breathe, we reason, we find meaning in each season. Yes, I know, I rhymed purposefully. I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with striving for the best that there is. That’s realistic. It leads me to question how it is that we set goals and then set out to achieve them. How is being intentional with all that you do important in creating balance?

I always set “impossible goals” for myself. This summers’ impossible goal is a short film and believe it or not, it’s actually unfolding, mostly through sheer will and determination. My point is that what seems to be an “impossible goal” can actually be very possible. It’s the challenge that matters. The striving toward and not the completion of a job perfectly done. Why is it that we strive toward the end result? It isn’t just the “hello” and “goodbye” that matter as much as the life in between.

With the end of friendships and relationships, come lessons. When people walk out of my life, it’s generally through no ones’ fault, but just that it’s time to move on. It’s the journey that matters more than anything. When I watch a film, I don’t want to watch just the begging and the end, I want to see the arch. 

I went to Barnes & Nobles the other day and saw so many books on getting through missing a person. I thought it was strange and so I set about the dig for what it all meant. Then, I sat down to speak with a friend and they talked about how hard it is to end things or to let someone go. Does it all come back to self worth? Do I have to love myself enough to choose me every time? How much growth is in each goodbye? Literal death forces us to let go and begin a grieving process, but what about the walk away? How do we handle each goodbye no matter how or when with grace and acceptance?

I never did resonate with “Goodbye” but instead leaned toward “Farewell”, the idea that though our journey together ends here, I hope that on your journey as it continues, you fare well with home in yourself, completeness, and a self worthy of all that you are. 

Farewell until next time,

Damali Speaks Xx

 

Self Love: The Importance of Romancing the Soul & Old Ways

Hey Speakerz! This topic came about one late sober night as I sat by myself, romancing my soul and I thought it would be cool to elaborate on with y’all! Today’s topic is on romance, and the emergence of “old” ways and how they can play a part in self care and self love.

When I was little my mom would always say that I should learn how to play by myself. Let’s just say I learned the lesson too well and now I’m a lot bit introverted. I appreciate the outside world and its inhabitants, I just love my own solitary space so very much that I have a hard time giving it up on odd days and maybe even too. The more I speak to elders in my life, the more they talk about how important it is to have a “self care routine”. This routine is all about getting deep into your own soul and while it is in fact work, it can also be a soothing, cleansing release from the everyday conditioning of the world.

I’ve always been sensual. Aware of all the senses and wanting to use and explore each one. This lead to being a serious romantic. For a while, it was a secret. I hid it under lock and key. It seemed that in the world I lived in being romantic and or sensual needed a monogamous relationship and without that, there was no place for my sensuality. I don’t mean to say that sensuality and romance are inherently mutually inclusive. They can be, but don’t have to be.

I’ve learned in the years of adulthood, just how to be romantic with myself. Usually, when I get home after a long day, I light some sage and incense followed by candles and of course string lights. After the ambiance is set, I pull out jazz music because my soul loves jazz in the best of ways. Most nights,  I’ll make my own tea from herbs that I pick up here and there with almond milk and agave and just sit and revel in what I’ve created. (If anyone wants a recipe for teas, hollar at me!) It may seem like a little old lady and I don’t mind. It gives my soul completion. So what do you do? What’s your self care routine? Does self care come instinctively?

I always used to ask myself the question that if I don’t want to romance and fall in love with myself, why or how would I be able to do the same for someone else. While I love being able to romance other people that I have in my life, I always appreciate being able to do it for myself first and foremost. Onto the emergence of old ways. I know that myself and a lot of friends tend to make fun of each other for being “old”. Most of my friends have old souls and I like to think that it’s because vibration attracts vibration. In a society that values youth so very heavily, how does that make for being able to embrace the sensual solitary act of curling up with a book or coffee or even just staring out the window at the sky? Does it at the core have anything at all to do with age? Maybe we put too much on it. I have aunts and uncles who are older and although married, still value their alone time, their “self care routines”.

In romantic routine, is there something to be said for the old? I’m a bit of a purist. Although a staunch minimalist, I have an old cassette player and cassettes, vinyl, old clothes of my grandmothers and mothers, etc. I appreciate the old things that seem to carry so much history with them. It seems that in America, societally there’s an obsession with certain time periods and although I love what those time periods have to teach me, I’m not drawn to them for the purposes of re-living. I’m drawn for the purposes of remembrance and self exploration. I love jazz from the 40s because it pulls on my heart in a certain way, but I also love jazz from 2016. How do we establish balance between the old and the new?

Self care doesn’t have to involve romance. Your self care is your self care. What’s important is that you do take care of yourself. Develop your routine. Romance yourself before anyone else.

Love Always,

Damali Speaks Xx

Womanhood: Sexual Liberation in a Time of Need vs. Want, Repression & Release

Hey Speakerz! This week was an eye-opening one, full of liberation and the twenties. I’m back to speaking on one of my absolute favorite topics, sex and sexuality! Discovering myself as a sexual being is something that I feel is so important, especially because black women’s sexual autonomy is constantly policed. While this is true, I’ve found that taking the time to be in my own body and space and knowing who I am is paramount to knowing what it is that I want in a sexual partner. So, today’s topic is on Womanhood, exploring sex in a healthy way and what is a need, followed by a want as well as repression and release concerning sexual ideals. 

With almost 8 months of celibacy under my belt, I began to feel as though I either might not ever want sex again or that I would die if I didn’t have sex soon. So began the tug of war. What is “sexual liberation” and how do we, meaning queer/straight millenial poc deal with our own needs and desires? From what I’ve gathered, being sexually liberated means having the innerstanding of the inner workings of one’s desire as well as the discipline and vocal wherewithal to bring about means of expression for that sexual experience whatever that may be.

I struggled for a while with this explanation. I’m a queer, polyamorous, old soul having millenial who doesn’t adhere to respectability politics and is so unapologetic that I most often don’t actually care to deal with others projections of low vibrational bull shit. So, sexual liberation is a given right? WRONG. I super recently broke my 8 months of celibacy with someone with a penis who identifies as a straight, monogamous man and it took a while for me to openly ask for that experience, mostly because understanding my sexual liberation is also understanding the energy transfer that comes with sexual expression particularly with intercourse. The gender norms and politics don’t have to be adhered to, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t present and how, then do we move forward? How do we engage past the sexism, hetero-patriarchy and ego to a place of real and honest connection that brings us to liberation?

How often do I have sex because I genuinely want to?

How often to I feel pressured to perform?

How often do I think about connecting and not dis-connecting in an effort not to feel because feeling too much is scary/overwhelming?

How often do I feel safe enough to connect?

All of these things lead to blockages or breakthroughs in our ability to truly experience liberation concerning sex. The thing is that everyone should be able to experience what it is to not be judged for being a sexual being. Many people have sex. Many people don’t. It’s okay to express. Being closed off about it only leads to sexual repression. I always wanted to talk in depth and length about sex but would always be stopped by the older people around me. There is so much unlearning that has to take place surrounding sex and desire.

Moving onward to needs and wants. Throughout the exploration of my own sexual liberation, I came across a funny feeling. Is sex a need or a want for me? Some people say that it’s a need, some say a want. Can it be a neant? A combination of both? I found in myself that there are times when it is one and then the other and then a mixture, mostly because I am a changing human being and every day brings about something different. Sex is like food. I need to eat because my body needs the fuel, but what I eat determines just how my body will run. So maybe I do a cleanse once in a while, maybe I eat more fruit than meats, and maybe I eat junk food on a regular.

What is your style of self care? Sex is a means of reproduction, but it’s also a means of energy transfer, healing, grounding, expression, etc. Masturbation restores my energy and helps me to manifest and connect with just how my inner self is doing. Sexual intercourse involving another human body allows me to dispel some energy but also to regain my own and form a connection to a higher self and stream of consciousness.

What is your intention? In a world where we are constantly bombarded with images and energy, how do we set intention, when and why? Do you ever think about an intention not just for your day, but for that moment? When I engage in anything, I immediately set my intention. “This will feed my soul and give the energy I need to do such and such”. That way, there is no misplaced anything. If something comes up, I can figure out exactly where it came from because I was intentional. Intentions for sex can be mind-blowing and soul-healing. You don’t have to say it out loud, you can say it to yourself, but always have a direction for the energy to go, otherwise, what are you inviting? Carelessness?

Using your whole self in sex is such a release. Use your voice, throat chakra, your root, sacral chakra, your heart, your third eye, your hands, mouth, hair, etc. Why not throw yourself headfirst into the experience and let your spirit soar and then return? Being an adult in terms of behavior is paramount. And now, come to think about it, I don’t like that phrase. Being considerate and responsible with sexual energy is better. People tend to say that I “act like a guy” post sex because although I am fully present in an experience, I’m not attached or clingy. I allow the energy to flow and then I maintain my autonomy. So often, those classified as women are expected to be these emotional creatures that want marriage and use sex to get love in both heterosexual and homosexual interactions. While that is true of some people, it is also true that sexual liberation allows space for a new type of woman: A woman that embraces her power and can embrace the sexual energy and then let it flow. This woman isn’t “acting” as anything. She’s in touch, she implores self love and most importantly, she moves on. If you are one of those women, I salute you for your journey and I say, continue on. As your fellow sister and “too much” woman, I say that we need more examples of women like us. 

Sex can be such a liberating and beautiful experience, let’s engage.

 

Love Always,

 

Damali Speaks Xx

Running from the Reign: Discoveries of Freedom & Spirit

Hey Speakerz! Back at it again! I am currently writing this from a sort of renewed and re-birthed place. So, if you feel newborn vibes from me, it’s all a part of the cycle. With yesterday being Easter, it was so important to harness the energy of the day as I spent it in Prospect Park in Brooklyn with some wonderful Warriors of Light (I’m calling whoever I meet as my tribe member at any point in time a Warrior of Light) as we worked through our collective pain to re-birth ourselves. Sharing my growth into today is my name. The most difficult thing for me to embrace is my name. My birth name is different from what I feel I need to be called and though I’ve been fighting it for a long time, I’m learning to embrace my true name and my spirit. After all, words are spells and we must use them to bless and not curse. Today’s topic is on Love, Self & Spirit. Let’s dig in!

What’s something that you love so much that you could not drown, but swim in? For me, that’s rain. I love the rain. Yesterday in Prospect Park, it rained heavily for about 15 minutes. It was cold and almost like knives digging into my flesh. I heard people running and screaming around me in fear and I thought. “It’s water.” How can we say that we love water and rain that falls from the sky and yet want to interact with it only from the safety under an umbrella? How have we as human beings and spirits of the Universe lost our selves so much? Loving something, someone, some self, means that we don’t drown in it with the intention of sinking to the bottom, never to be seen or heard from again. To love something wholly, means to swim, to flow with the tide, to ride, to seek, to find solace in, etc. and yet to understand that love is freedom. Set what you love free so that it can roam, live, and be found again anew within you. When we hold on to what is no longer ours, we don’t allow for the energy to flow. We remain stunted in the same loop. To keep the flow of energy going is to create an elevated loop, a deja vu that’s not quite the same.

How do I really love? I know that I’ve been programmed to believe that sex is an act only done with someone you love, love is possession, love is all-encompassing, an act of passion, monogamy, workaholic, self-sacrifice, etc. The more I roam this earth and meet more spirits housed in human bodies, the more I realize that love is so much more than I could ever have imagined. Yesterday, sitting in a cocoon of love, I realized that love doesn’t reflect time. It lives outside of it, yet it is still stable. Grounded. Reveling in love, doesn’t need to mean the things that I was programmed for them to mean. Being in the present with time is understanding the harnessing of present energy and respecting it. Living in the moment and letting that moment live.

How then, do I love my self? How do I establish a relationship with my self so strong that no matter what I do,  I am always my authentic self? Self love and self care. Lately, “Self Care” rather than “Self Love” has made it’s way into my vocabulary. How to Care for ones’ Self is an important space to live in, to make a home in. So many human beings have made homes in places and left the self an empty shell. But what if we all became committed to making homes in our selves and roamed in freedom and nature? What would that look like?

Duality. There is an important necessity in duality. The world balances itself out. In every day simple things, we have the presence of a penis, balanced with a vagina. Masculine energies balanced with feminine energies. Warm white light balanced with pure and black energy of creation and absorbed power. As so above, so below. Neither is better or worse, it just is. It is simply, maintenance of balance. As human beings with eternal spirits, how do we revel in our own duality? What is our dark nurtured by our light, what is our wrong nurtured by our right? Still, there isn’t just the two extremes side by side. There’s a whole scale. I’m attracted to the spectrum. I enjoy chocolate, vanilla, and cherry, mango, pineapple, etc. Our duality is all encompassing and we should be allowed to explore and play in it, rather than be forced to pick a side unnecessarily.

This leads to Spirit. Some call it spirit, intuition, “gut instinct”, etc. That feeling in your core at various moments. How often do you listen to it? In the span of a few months, I’ve been training myself to each morning, check in with my self, my intuition, and receive instructions for how to care for the little girl inside of me that still needs raising in so many ways. Sometimes the instructions are sweet: “Make sure to get a good hug and moment in the sun today.” Sometimes the instructions are sour: “Sit your ass down today and write”. Sometimes they just are: ” Fruit is imperative at this time. You need to be sweet and a little sour. Cut out all other foods and listen to the world speak”. Knowing when to listen to intuition versus the ego is crucial. When is my ego speaking? When is it my intuition?

Always operating from a place of love, acceptance and openness is so easy that it’s hard, and I’d be lying if I said that I always did it 100% because I’m human. I falter. But let’s remember to always rise. Move through our collective pain, embrace our human, be free and well, live this life we are blessed with.

 

Love Always,

 

Damali Speaks Xx

Beginning, Middle & End: Thoughts on the Omega

Hey Speakerz! Back at it again! This week’s topic is on Alpha and Beta personalities, and how societal pressures cause us to stand as one or the other. I’m a phone person. I would personally much rather speak with someone and hear their vocal inflections as the conversation takes its highs and lows rather than to text or email, etc. I bring that up because this week’s topic came about during a phone conversation and I thought “I’ve Got IT! This is some dope stuff!” and thus thoughts on societal status outside of capitalism were born in me.

According to Webster, the definitions of Alpha and Beta personalities are as follows:

Alpha: the highest ranking individual in a group

Beta: the lower ranking individual in a group

Now if we paid attention to these narrow definitions, you might be sitting there like “well that sucks”. The thing that bugged me the most in this subtle research was just how negative portrayals were the highlight of definitions and research instead of a person to person interaction. Here’s the thing, Alpha’s are the person who takes charge, the Type A, the person proclaimed a “bitch” by society if female and “big man in charge” if male. Alphas are typically the boss. The Beta’s are people who are Type B, laid back, maybe quiet, some might call them lazy or basic. Type B personalities are willing to fade into the background. Now personally, I thought that I was none of these. I’m not a Type A perfectionist, although I have my moments and I’m not a Type B laid back person, although I have my moments there as well. Thus, there emerged the Omega personality.

While Alpha and Beta are the beginning 2 letters of the Greek Alphabet, Omega is the 24th and final letter of the Greek Alphabet. Omega’s are a combination of Beta and Alpha. Possessing more Alpha than Beta, they are like the second in command. DING DING DING! I have found myself! How many of us in society are in the middle?

I always heard that Alpha is the beginning while Omega is the end. Alpha & Omega has a meaning of forever and always, as well. I always tried to fit one or the other. I could never belong solidly in one and I began to think that something was wrong with me, but in actuality, I’m just an animal that is rarely seen and not afraid of my rare status. That’s intimidating in a world where societal norms are so very strong. So what to do now? I always felt narrowed into a box with societal definitions and beyond that, the negative connotation that so many labels have. Maybe, being able to identify with a certain characteristic only further serves as a breadcrumb on the journey of self love and self actualization. Maybe, all that we encounter is really just one more breadcrumb. Why get caught up?

This all had me thinking of the roles that I’ve personally played in people’s lives and on a grander scheme, the roles that every human being plays in our collective lives. I notice that people come into my life when they need healing. are about to make a big choice, and need to see the full picture. Usually, when I enter people’s lives, I’m a good luck charm. Trust me, this is something I’ve put to the test multiple times. The thing about not embracing who we are and what we can do, leaves us with emptiness and in many ways a heavy exhaustion. But if we embrace all of ourselves, the Alpha, the Beta, the Omega, what magic can happen?

Let’s human beings move past the narrow definitions and the negative energy. Let’s just embrace who we are as imperfect and yet beautiful human beings. I do think that there is some truth and worth in the Alpha, Beta and Omega, but is it all of who I can be? Certainly not. I make my future. I design the life that I want and best believe it is phenomenal. I hope yours is too.

 

Love Always,

 

Damali Speaks Xx