Conversations with Marva

what i owe to O

At the beginning of this, Oprah’s last season, I asserted that I would sit and watch every episode. I set my DVR to tape the season and prepared myself for lots of tears and remembering why I love her so much. I imagined that I would sit down in front of my HDTV and nod my head in agreement with O, as I often did, and maybe have a glass of wine or try something new, which she always seemed to get me to do.

I haven’t watched one of those past episodes. I simply couldn’t do it.

I picked up my yearbook a few days ago and turned to the Senior Aspirations page where we all stated our goals when we left school. You know what my goal was? I quote, “…to pursue a career in journalism.” What that quote didn’t say was that I wanted to be Oprah. I wanted to touch people the way that she has touched me, and millions of others around the world.

I was about to turn fourteen when Oprah appeared on my television screen. I was instantly hooked, mainly because she looked like me. Big hair, big personality, big body…and she was successful beyond what I could even begin to imagine for myself. I looked at her and saw myself; not only in physical form, but on a spiritual level that I don’t think I can even explain here.

Throughout the years, I have watched her change, morph really, into everything that I’ve ever wanted to be. Somewhere along the way, though, I began to want to be more me than her. I wanted to walk my own path, discover my own destiny, be my own person more than I wanted to be her. I believe that is about the same time that I started to take this writing thing a little bit more serious. You see, I’ve always known this is my destiny, to be a writer. I know that God is waiting on me to let go and let him take over the controls of my life. While sitting and watching Oprah’s farewell shows, I heard that voice that I’ve always heard whisper softly in my ear saying, “Go and put pen to paper, Marva. It is what you were born to do.”

So here I sit, in front of my computer, writing. Before I got to the real reason I’m sitting here in front of my computer with my hands on the keys, my nails clicking loudly on each letter, I had to thank Oprah. Without her, I would be that almost fourteen year old, growing into a grown ass woman, without knowing that I could be bigger and better than I could ever imagine. Even though I believe that now, I know that even Oprah couldn’t imagine her life to be what she experiences daily. What an amazing legacy, and I am humbled to have watched every day of it.

Now, it’s my turn to step into whatever God has planned for me. I don’t know what that is, I don’t even begin to imagine. But I owe it to God, and to Oprah, to try and then try again.

And that is exactly what I’m going to do. Starting right now.

Writing,

~ Marva

“pain is weakness leaving your body”

My son, who I must proudly say, is a linebacker. A big ole, muscle-bound, eating all the damn time, linebacker. He used to hate putting in the work that was required of someone in that role; now, he relishes it. I get a daily report on what he benches, how he and his fellow high school football playing peers deal with the exhausting rituals that “Coach” puts them through, and most of all, how the muscles in his calves, arms, and shoulders are things of beauty. My baby isn’t a baby anymore…but that is not what this is about.

Today, while we were walking back to the car after picking up our Thursday night dinner of Chipotle burrito bowls, he looked at me over the hood of the car and said, “Pain is weakness leaving your body.” Mind you, the conversation we were having during our walk back to the car had nothing to do with his assertion. It came out of the blue, and despite his statement’s out of the blue origin, I smiled and nodded in agreement. We got in the car and headed home, with him bantering on about Coach scheduling two-a-days during the summer, and me half listening, half thinking. The Boy’s statement, “Pain is weakness leaving your body” rang so true with me and hit me square in that place where I needed it most: my spirit.

My spirit and soul have been in pain, for a good chunk of time now. When I woke up today, however, that pain felt different. It was still there, lingering, but it wasn’t stifling me to the point of losing my breath as it had just yesterday. The pain still clung to me, but it didn’t weigh me down, and I felt almost light, lighter than I’ve felt in months. The pain still followed me to work and still threatened to bring me down into the darkness I’ve been in recently, but today, I felt strong enough to fight back…strong enough to overcome.

So when my son said those words to me in the parking lot of the Chipotle today, I smiled. Because I knew that those words were meant for me. I knew those words were God’s message to me to keep my head up and look forward. The pain will be gone soon, and while it dawdles about, still hanging around, still attacking me, I think I know now that it is simply fighting because it knows its time is near. And in its wake will be a stronger, better me.

I love that.

Je crois que,

~ Marva

p.s. A special thanks to my SisterFriends who love me, pray for me, and keep my head on straight. I love y’all!

really…it’s the full moon

I believe that everything in the universe has a cause and effect. What I mean is that everything put out into the world will come back to you, sometimes tenfold. I also believe that our solar system, with all of its bright stars and constellations, do not exist without their being causing some shift in the universe.

Full moons always find me acting outside of myself. I once read somewhere that the full moon has the effect of bringing out that side of you that you rarely show to anyone willingly. That’s what happens to me. Is happening to me. All the things that I like to keep to myself, about myself, feel like they are on full display. I’m restless, but highly aware of everything going on around me. It is truly…ethereal. It is almost as if I can feel every fiber in my body, and feel everything working and moving and thinking.

Sometimes, like today, that does not work to my advantage. I know I should be reveling in this powerful awareness, but I’m not. I’m feeling overwhelmed and unsure and indecisive…exactly the opposite of how I normally am. All of the feelings that I am fighting to release and let go of came rushing back at me today and nearly knocked me to my knees. I found myself in tears somewhere aroudn the middle of the day…for what? I couldn’t even tell you.

This is one full moon cycle that I will be glad to see go away. I need Marva back; the Marva that knows and sees and believes and does. The Marva that keeps it moving. This Marva, the one that is seemingly stuck in a time warp, is not doing anything for me.

Sighing,

~ Marva

jumping the broom is…

…sweet. Syrupy, molasses, sugar type sweet. So sweet that it left a taste in my mouth that I couldn’t get rid of after I walked out of the theatre. That is not necessarily a good, or bad, thing.

First, let me say that there are simply not enough images of Black people in love on the movie screens. With the influx of Madea movies, and typical story lines that Hollywood continues to feed to the masses, Jumping the Broom was a refreshing change of pace. Seeing how these two families, from different sides of the track, come together was handled well. I was surprised at how good the acting was (Angela Bassett can do no wrong), and the setting in Martha’s Vineyard made me immediately want to schedule a trip to see it in person. But there was something else…something that didn’t quite hit me right.

That syrupy sweetness? Yeah…it got to be too much.

I love Paula Patton. I think she is one of the most beautiful actresses of our time. Her character in Jumping the Broom came across as whiny, spoiled, and shallow…if that was what she was supposed to be, then congratulations…she succeeded. But I don’t think that is the case. I think she was meant to be played as a woman who had reached a moment of growth in her life. A woman who had tired of going through men like water and needed something firm and concrete to stand on. A woman who was one of the “haves”, but not using it to define her. That is what she appeared like to me. I rarely say that I don’t like a character, but I didn’t like her. And my palm itched as if it wanted to slap her beautiful face and yell at her to stop acting like a 12-year-old.

Another thing was the Milf-y, cougar-y beginning of a relationship between the characters portrayed by Tasha Smith and Romeo. Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against the whole older woman/younger man thing (I just may be defined as a cougar myself…they didn’t make younger men this fine when I was in my 20s…tee hee hee). My problem is that it seemed so forced and unnatural and unbelievable. Completely and utterly unbelievable.

At the crux of Jumping the Broom is a story that has tremendous amounts of potential. The ending—which I won’t tell you about, don’t worry—left me feeling like I had just ingested a huge amount of honey. I enjoyed it at first, but eventually I grew weary of the taste, and ended up feeling nauseous. Sometimes sweetness has a limit. 

And this movie, despite all of its good qualities, was over the limit.

Be free,

~ Marva

happy mother’s day

To all the moms out there who work long hours and still manage to show up at band concerts, who shuffle kids (both your own and someone else’s) back and forth to practice, who still believe in their own dreams and work toward making them come true, who can still put it on him like you did 10 years ago, and who, no matter what, never leave the house without lip gloss and mascara on…

Love,

~ Marva

Poetry Break #3

I dabble a little in poetry. Usually when I’m can’t seem to sort through my feelings, or when my world turns upside down, I write it all out. It’s my way of release. I wrote this piece recently, after surviving yet another dark cloud.

…maybe that’s the problem

I always feel like I can do and feel and say

Whatever my mind & heart believe.

I tend to go within myself

And forget that you won’t receive.

I don’t have any limitations

When it comes to you

Even though I know what the results are

And that I’ll end up feeling blue.

I just ignore the red flags

My light of appropriate or not burns dim

And maybe, just maybe

…maybe that’s the problem.

But if my words

Can push you far away so easy

Can shut you down

And make you feel so queasy.

Then we are not

At the core what I know we are;

At least, in my mind

What I’ve wished for from afar.

I make no apologies

My feelings, I wear like an emblem.

And maybe, just maybe

…maybe that’s the problem.

Sometimes I want to be close to you

Just to feel you near

Other times I want to slap you because

You always retreat in fear.

I remember, dream, and want too much, I know

But these thoughts of mine

Will not let me let you go.

I will tell you that I’m afraid too,

Of what I’ve become

And maybe, just maybe

…maybe that’s the problem.

~ MAF

something to think about

I read this quote last night after watching my President deliver the news about Osama bin Laden’s death. I still am not quite sure how I feel about this; on one hand, my heart aches for all of the people of this country who lost loved ones in the greatest tragedy to every hit our country. I weep at only being able to imagine what they must be feeling right now. On the other side, I feel trepid. Celebrating the death of a life, even bin Laden’s death, just doesn’t seem, or feel, totally right.

So when I read the following quote, I had to sit down and think about it. I love my country, I love my President, and give honor and thanks to all of our servicemen and women who risk their lives daily to defend our country. But the celebration of death is just not sitting right with me.

Martin Luther King said:

“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

I agree.

Peace and love,

~ Marva