Everything happens for a reason or are we the reason?

“Mistakes are a fact of life. It is the response to the error that counts.” – Nikki Giovanni

Nowadays, hearing the saying “Everything happens for a reason,” makes me cringe. Its meaning has morphed into a platitude. I’ll admit it. I’ve been guilty of muttering this senseless phrase. For the most part, I’ve found it to be the nicest thing to say in sticky situations. I shrug my shoulder and let those words effortlessly drip from my lips, “Everything. Happens. For. A. Reason.” 

It’s become the thing to say but it has neither punch nor bite. 

Life happens. There are definitely events that we can’t control and then there are those many moments that we can. I believe that there’s an omniscient God who watches over us. He’s given us free will, and here in lies what I find peevish about that stupid saying, “Everything happens for a reason.” 

We have free will. People make choices and those choices – our decisions – have outcomes. Sir Issac Newton’s Third Law, “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction,” rings true. 

Life happens, but everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Our decisions impact our daily lives. When we opt to go with what’s behind door A as oppose to door B and vice versa, or turn left rather than head right, those decisions shape our tomorrow. 

Let’s hold ourselves accountable for the choices we’ve made rather than justify our decisions, even if made poorly, with meaningless phrases. Copping out is lame. Don’t be lame. Be responsible, take heed of your actions, learn from your mistakes and keep on keepin’ on. – MJ

 

Queen

Brothas, it’s about time we start treating our women like queens. It’s time we show them the respect they deserve; show them unconditional love and appreciation; lift them up.

Put them on a pedal stool because God knows they deserve it.

They’ve experienced deep pain and suffering at the hands of men. They’ve seen their sons, daughters and husbands beaten, raped, or murdered. When I sit and think about it, no other group of people have experienced such depth of pain.

To be black and female is a double negative. I ask that my brothas be a positive force in our women’s lives. Let’s show them that we care. – MP

JUKE BOX LOVE SONG, by Langston Hughes

I could take the Harlem night

and wrap around you,

Take the neon lights and make a crown,

Take the Lenox Avenue busses,

Taxis, subways,

And for your love song tone their rumble down.

Take Harlem’s heartbeat,

Make a drumbeat,

Put it on a record, let it whirl

And while we listen to it play,

Dance with you till day -

Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.

The Touch

I read the blog on the Obamas and it made me think about the importance of the human touch, something that I ponder ever so often.

What if someone offered you financial stability for the rest of your life only if you never touch another person ever again. What if you took the offer…

The human touch is unmistakably one of those things we take for granted, yet it’s such a simple act.

The feeling of a kiss between a man and woman, the passion that arouses and awakens ones soul (if it’s done right).

The inner peace of a baby holding your pinky finger.

The joy of feeling another heart beat when given a hug.

The tear that falls down your face and grandma wiping it with the back of her hand.

The hi-five your girl gives you when you two know that a brother is FINE.

The fist to fist jab from your boy because you got the promotion.

I would rather be broke than to never feel these simple things that are PRICELESS. – Dred Woman, blog contributor.

Road to Success

I found this on a friend’s social networking page and thought it was worth posting here. Check it out:

The road to success is not straight.

There is a curve called failure,

A loop called confusion,

Speed bumps called friends,

Red lights called enemies,

Caution lights called family.

You will have flats called jobs.

But, if you have a spare called determination,

An engine called perseverance, insurance called faith, a driver called Jesus, you make it to the place called success. – MP

Letter to mom: Journey from Grenada to America.

Big Momma and Boy by Gordon Parks

Dear Mamma,

I know you love me.

I know the sacrifices you’ve made and continue to make so that I and your grandchildren can have better lives.

Being a single mother at 21 was no easy task, even if you’d earned your college degree in Grenada and pursued a teaching career on the island. You made a tough decision to move to the United States when I was the tender age of seven. You wanted to build a better life for the two of us.

Even after graduating from the island’s university, life was rough.

Relatives tell me that you were the sole breadwinner, providing for your siblings until they were  able to pitch in.

You ventured to America, leaving me and other loved ones behind, to strive for a better life.

What trying times those days must have been?

To leave the familiar and venture into the unknown was risky, but you weren’t afraid. You wanted your son’s future to shine brighter than yours.

But what a shock it must have been to learn when you arrived on U.S. soil that your college degree meant nothing. What hurt you must have felt. But you persevered. You, being a strong black woman, pulled yourself together and forged ahead. You swallowed your pride and took a job cleaning people’s homes.

You took on an extra job, looking after a couple’s child while you privately longed to be with me.

After some years of saving money, you enrolled in college in Brooklyn, NY, while sending money to relatives in Grenada. Finally the day came when we reunited. I was 10.

I’ve witness the sacrifices you made and the feats you achieved. You’re a college graduate, a property owner, and the mother of a businessman.

You’ve done well and I’m proud. I often recount your triumphs to female friends when they’re feeling discouraged.

To me, you’re a success story and my hero.

You’re a phenomenal woman.

Love and respect always, your son – MP.