Yesterday would have been Nina Simone’s 79th birthday. I first discovered Ms. Nina a long time ago. I can’t recall what I was watching, but “Feeling Good” was playing in the background and I fell instantly in love. Ms. Nina needs no vocal histrionics; she doesn’t use riffs or tricks. It is just her and her voice…that voice that is equally melancholy and inspiring. That voice that reaches in and grabs ahold of your soul and refuses to let go. As if you would want it to…
I would be remiss in honoring Ms. Nina, since she sings part of the soundtrack to my life. The part of heartache and yearning, the part of desire and wanting, the part of admission and adoration. My admiration for Ms. Nina goes deep…I am not just a surface fan. True, my introduction to her was one of her most popular songs. What I discovered, however, is that you don’t get to the essence of Ms. Nina until you listen to the other stuff that would never get played on the radio. “Don’t Explain,” “Lilac Wine,” and “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair” are just some of my favorites. The thing about Ms. Nina is that you can put her CD on and just leave it. She takes you up and down, in and out, around and through…and you are grateful for the journey. Ms. Nina teaches you how to respect yourself; she instructs you on being a woman; she opens your eyes to the world and pushes you to stand on your own.
I did it. On Thursday, I performed in front of an audience of roughly 300 people as part of The Vagina Monologues. I didn’t think I was going to make it. My emotions were threatening to get the best of me. I couldn’t keep still, and my body wanted to move…so that’s what I did. Pretty much all day. Move, here and there, up and down, back and forth. Total craziness.
There was only one thing that calmed me down. And that thing came at the very last minute it could have. It managed to be right on time.
You see, Thursday, February 16th, was exactly 6 months since my cousin Ed was murdered. We use death in various ways; one of the ways that I thought I could honor my cousin was to live my life fully and completely, everyday. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of that. Of course, I always think I could do more. There are not quite enough hours in the day.
On Thursday morning, when I woke up, I could feel a sense of exhilaration grip me. It stayed with me all day. I went to work for 4 hours that morning, and I found myself constantly hopping up out of my chair, almost run-walking to the bathroom or to the break room or to the copy room, or to talk to the HR Manager and/or Recruiter. I went outside a couple of times, and just walked around the building. I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. I mean, I’m no stranger to public speaking; I am comfortable in front of an audience…I am a trainer, for crying out loud! I wasn’t worried about my voice giving out, or falling on stage (the horror!), or flubbing my lines. In fact, I wasn’t worried at all. So I didn’t understand for most of the day what on earth the feeling that I was feeling was.
Right before it was my time, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. I prayed that if it was God’s will, that someone would be touched by the words that would soon come out of my mouth. I prayed for God to use me in whatever way He needed to. After delivering my Monologue, and retreating back to my chair on stage, I looked up at the lights just above my head. I felt their warmth, I felt their glare, I felt the power. I smiled, because I felt my cousin smiling down on me. Giving me one of those good hugs he used to give to everyone. Telling me good job. You see, my cousin Ed is the main reason I decided to audition and consequently participate in The Vagina Monologues. Death makes everything urgent; all the things that you have put off until that time take center stage and beg to be completed, or at the very least, attempted. In the months following my cousin’s death, I finished the first draft of my book, started school again, lost 20 lbs., and participated in this play. I want to believe; I do believe that I am living my life in a way that honors his that was taken away so suddenly.
I am happy. I am at peace. I am alive. I am full. I don’t know what else the Lord has planned for me, but I look forward to discovering where He is going to take me. I anticipate the things that I know He is ready to do with me and for me. Oh, how I wish I could give this feeling to everyone that I know. I try; kind words filled with truth and love, and warm hugs are my methods of choice. Yesterday, during Whitney Houston’s homegoing celebration, Pastor Marvin Winans uttered these words:
The gifts that we have is God’s gift to us. But the life that we live is our gift to God.
No cute snippet for this one…just listen to that voice! You ever notice that when Whitney sang, she was just on stage with a microphone? No props, no dancers, nothing at all was needed.
I was 15. MTV ruled my world, and I lived and breathed by the music of my generation. I was in love with Michael and Prince, salivated over Duran Duran and New Edition, and sang along with Luther and Sade. These musicians cemented my love of music. But there was one who made me believe in the power of voice. A magnificent, pure, clear as a bell voice that lifted me out of darkness and sent me soaring right along with the notes that she sang so effortlessly.
That one was Whitney Houston. Her death has left me with with a mixture of feelings, not the least being extreme heaviness of heart.
Last night, once the news soaked in (or once I allowed myself to accept it was true), I had a monumental crying session on my living room floor. When Michael died, I laid in the floor and just screamed. This, albeit just as tragic and heartbreaking, felt different. There is a depression attached that plagues me. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that when Whitney was going through darkness, I prayed for her. I prayed and prayed and prayed that she would one day be that vibrant woman that I watched on television and heard on the radio. I didn’t pray for her to regain her voice; I have records that would comfort me and remind me that she was the greatest voice I have ever heard. I prayed for her to regain her life. I prayed for her to return to herself, minus the demons and troubles she experienced. I prayed for her to be better and stronger and wiser.
I would never speculate on what she was in her last days. I would never assume that I know what she went through. I just know that this hurts. The only thing I can do is immerse myself in the music. It will speak louder and clearer than I could on my own.
RIP, Nippy. I love you. I pray that you have found peace.
Yesterday would have been Nina Simone’s 79th birthday. I first discovered Ms. Nina a long time ago. I can’t recall what I was watching, but “Feeling Good” was playing in the background and I fell instantly in love. Ms. Nina needs no vocal histrionics; she doesn’t use riffs or tricks. It is just her and her voice…that voice that is equally melancholy and inspiring. That voice that reaches in and grabs ahold of your soul and refuses to let go. As if you would want it to…
