My new neighbor came into the new year with a wonderful house party. There was much dancing above me when I crawled into bed a little before 2 AM. I closed my eyes and listened to the tap-tap of shoes beating down on wooden floors to very loud Russian music. As their joyous words travelled down, I wondered what they meant and with what expressions they were said. With these thoughts I drifted off to sleep.
My NYE was quite. I did some cleaning, some reading, and some vigorous dancing in the morning. I hope you said goodbye to 2014 in your own wonderful way. I hope your 2015 will be so good, you will just not know how to not be grateful for being so lucky. When I wished my good friend a happy new year, she said, “These years keep getting better, eh? It’s the wisdom of learning to love ourselves a little more each year.” I think she is very right.
I have a few resolutions for myself, but what about this blog? I will be making a few changes. I am going to be more mindful of what I share and take time to better edit so you will not have to suffer as many grammatical errors and spelling mistakes as you did in the past.
Key point of reflection:
The root of our flaws is fear (this is actually a question, but to come to a better understanding of it, I am pretending it is a statement). The fear of the unknown. The unknown which is every second of our lives. The unknown from which we come, the unknown that was yesterday, that is today: this moment, and the unknown to which we go. The unknown translates into powerlessness. Hence the hunger for agency. To feel as though one is in control of not just one’s self (how is our lives ours?) but also of others. Denial of what is; leading to the question, what is?
Number one on my new year resolution is to be more immersed in the moment: to be aware of it, to be thankful. To tune into the magic more often, to be more conscious, more spontaneous, more intuitive. But in ways that are respectful of myself, friends, and family. And to be more responsible so my needs will not be a burden to those who love me.
Other thoughts:
After Mike Brown was shot down, I did something I had never done before, I shared a link to a version of the story on my Facebook page and wrote a little of my thoughts on racism in the USA. I have always been uncomfortable talking about racism because I am not sure I understand it.
I am still surprised that there is racism and I am not sure if it means I am naive or just living under a rock. Difference is that which makes the world an exciting place. A owes as much to B, as B to A. Imagine if we were all A. Imagine if everyone in the world looked, talked, and felt like you. A clone of yourself.
That one is short is only known because another is tall. The definition of what beautiful is, is often flawed. I have met people whom were considered beautiful and I could not see how. I have met people who were considered uncool, and I thought them the most cool. We are not the same. There is no such thing as the right race, the superior people, the perfect hair. Every time I come across one of those “most beautiful blah blah blah in the world” I cringe. That is a wicked propaganda. There is no such thing as the most beautiful in the universe. What is, are the several kinds of beautiful, which are all very unique.
We do, after all, have different skin colors, hair textures, bodies, individuality, languages, etc. The world is not universal in its attributes, even good and evil cannot be pigeonholed into black and white. Remember the grays? And what about the colors of the rainbow? Hence to say a specific look, or a group of people, or dogs, or food is the best in the universe is to be extremely biased, and to believe in such blatant lies and act as though others outside those unrealistic definitions are inferior, is to be a nincompoop. One ought to think for oneself. Even if it makes one uncomfortable. To be uncomfortable is not necessarily a bad thing. I am currently of the mind that it is oftentimes more dangerous to be comfortable than uncomfortable.
I wish thee a blast for the entire ’15!
—
J. A. Odartey
