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(Apropos Of A School-Day Happenstance) There she stood on the edge of the cliff of loneliness—her tiny eyes staring out into space. As I cautiously approached her, I softly asked if everything was ok. She replied that everything was fine; that she just wanted to spend some time with herself to find out why she was always the way she was. Behind us, the sun was setting and before us the gibbous moon was rising—a celestial canvassing— We both marveled at this prettiness. She turned to me and asked if I thought that she was a pretty girl. I looked at her and shared with her that when I was a young boy, my aunt who raised me, told me that God didn’t like ugly and never created any; that I was the apple of his eye and that there’s no beauty like the blackness God gave to me and the starry night. I then went on to say that I thought that she was more than just pretty; that as far as I could see, she was beautiful—created in the image of the author of beauty himself. God Almighty! I went on to share with her something that profoundly uplifted me when I read a poem written by Nikki Giovanni several decades ago in which she reminded us that whenever we look into a mirror, we will always see another one of God’s beautiful creatures looking back at us reflecting the creative beauty that only God could conceive and share with the world. With a small liberated smile that she thought she had held captive, she said that whenever she looked into any mirror, she didn’t see that but rather, all she ever saw was a sad, ugly, and Lonely little girl, who had no friends except her mom and other old people in her family. I went on to say that from what my eyes were beholding, that I was inclined to feel that perhaps she had always been looking in the mirror of others and was seeing what others thought she reflected; that she needed to look into her own self mirror and see the reflection of who she really is in the eyes of God and in the eyes he had given to her to see. That little smile stole another moment of freedom again as she curiously responded that she didn’t get this mirroring thing that I keep bringing up to her; that I was beginning to sound like the preacher on Sundays who always saying confusing things. With divine wisdom and guidance, I went on to say to her that within each of us there’s a spiritual mirror of truth whose reflected essence can only be vision by who it belongs because it reflects the true self of one’s self. Continuing, I went on to say to her that my mirror’s reflection of her is just that—how I see her being who she is and that her spiritual mirror reflection of herself was just that—the who she truly is in being who she is. I went on to say to her that when she got home today, don’t go stand in front of a mirror, rather, lie down and look into the spiritual mirror within her and focus on who she really is. And tomorrow when she comes to school, she could, if she felt inclined to, let me know how it went. Finally, I said this to her: Hey! Liberate that cute smile! I can hardly wait for tomorrow to come. Meanwhile, I share with you the following poem that was born out of this spiritual canvassed happenstance: Be the one you are— God never makes a mistake:- Blessed—be who you are. Be the you God made— You can’t exit who you are:- Always be, God’s you. Mirrored true beauty— God’s mirror reflecting you:- Be His reflection. P.S.: Here is where I once was: To Awareness In The Midst Of Loneliness Sitting here I felt as if I was drowning until I realized that I was just sitting there seemingly all alone being pulled deep down into life’s pool of memories which can sometimes leave you breathless. As a mood of safety slowly flowed over me, I realized that I had not been alone at all; that my three best friends had been there with me all the time: God, the Father, God, the Son, and God, the Holy Ghost—the faithful Trinity bringing with them, the beautiful and wise spirits of my ancestors and all of the extended family spirits that had gone on before me. What seemed to have been solitude drowning became a crowded whirlpool of joy. All too often, in times of trials, tribulations, and uncertainty, we tend to forget our blessings—how often God has lifted us from the bowels of hell, into the bright sunshine of His grace.

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A Mirroring Saga of Being Not You

(Apropos Of A School-Day Happenstance) There she stood on the edge of the cliff of loneliness—her tiny eyes staring out into space. As I cautiously approached her, I softly asked if everything was ok. She replied that everything was fine; that she just wanted to spend some time with herself to find out why she was always the way she was. Behind us, the sun was setting and before us the gibbous moon was rising—a celestial canvassing— We both marveled at this prettiness. She turned to me and asked if I thought that she was a pretty girl. I looked at her and shared with her that when I was a young boy, my aunt who raised me, told me that God didn’t like ugly and never created any; that I was the apple of his eye and that there’s no beauty like the blackness God gave to me and the starry night. I then went on to say that I thought that she was more than just pretty; that as far as I could see, she was beautiful—created in the image of the author of beauty himself. God Almighty! I went on to share with her something that profoundly uplifted me when I read a poem written by Nikki Giovanni several decades ago in which she reminded us that whenever we look into a mirror, we will always see another one of God’s beautiful creatures looking back at us reflecting the creative beauty that only God could conceive and share with the world. With a small liberated smile that she thought she had held captive, she said that whenever she looked into any mirror, she didn’t see that but rather, all she ever saw was a sad, ugly, and Lonely little girl, who had no friends except her mom and other old people in her family. I went on to say that from what my eyes were beholding, that I was inclined to feel that perhaps she had always been looking in the mirror of others and was seeing what others thought she reflected; that she needed to look into her own self mirror and see the reflection of who she really is in the eyes of God and in the eyes he had given to her to see. That little smile stole another moment of freedom again as she curiously responded that she didn’t get this mirroring thing that I keep bringing up to her; that I was beginning to sound like the preacher on Sundays who always saying confusing things. With divine wisdom and guidance, I went on to say to her that within each of us there’s a spiritual mirror of truth whose reflected essence can only be vision by who it belongs because it reflects the true self of one’s self. Continuing, I went on to say to her that my mirror’s reflection of her is just that—how I see her being who she is and that her spiritual mirror reflection of herself was just that—the who she truly is in being who she is. I went on to say to her that when she got home today, don’t go stand in front of a mirror, rather, lie down and look into the spiritual mirror within her and focus on who she really is. And tomorrow when she comes to school, she could, if she felt inclined to, let me know how it went. Finally, I said this to her: Hey! Liberate that cute smile! I can hardly wait for tomorrow to come. Meanwhile, I share with you the following poem that was born out of this spiritual canvassed happenstance: Be the one you are— God never makes a mistake:- Blessed—be who you are. Be the you God made— You can’t exit who you are:- Always be, God’s you. Mirrored true beauty— God’s mirror reflecting you:- Be His reflection. P.S.: Here is where I once was: To Awareness In The Midst Of Loneliness Sitting here I felt as if I was drowning until I realized that I was just sitting there seemingly all alone being pulled deep down into life’s pool of memories which can sometimes leave you breathless. As a mood of safety slowly flowed over me, I realized that I had not been alone at all; that my three best friends had been there with me all the time: God, the Father, God, the Son, and God, the Holy Ghost—the faithful Trinity bringing with them, the beautiful and wise spirits of my ancestors and all of the extended family spirits that had gone on before me. What seemed to have been solitude drowning became a crowded whirlpool of joy. All too often, in times of trials, tribulations, and uncertainty, we tend to forget our blessings—how often God has lifted us from the bowels of hell, into the bright sunshine of His grace.