Years ago we moved back to Minnesota and I attended my first private school. It was another culture shock coming from an all black student and staff classroom to a diverse school practicing prayer throughout the day. I soon discovered I enjoyed meeting people with different backgrounds races and religions. Back in Tennessee church was most important on Sundays. It was not so important in school and on the week days. My journey has taken me of a path of having a daily relationship with our Heavenly Father and not just being a church goer.
Enjoy this book which shares the relationship I've come to know creating art.
In the south, I attended an African Methodist Episcopal Church with my great grandmother, who we called Big Mamma. She was the most influential woman in my life as a child. Her heart was pure and everyone in the family loved and admired her. If I wasn't with her I was in a Baptist church with a Pentecostal flavor or attending a Church of God in Christ church (COGIC) with people in the hood. The only life that shined and made me desire that kind of life was the one I saw lived from Big Mama. The worship she gave was simply to love others. Be kind. Be forgiving. Be the example.
The Catholic school I attended was the total opposite worship service from churches I'd experienced. However, the people were kind and incredibly polite. The music was softer and although I could never make out what was being song, it made the presence of God seem near. Smile! The school was located on the corner of Lexington and Summit in St. Paul, Minnesota. Years later, and to my surprise, the school and church is no longer there.
St. Luke's Catholic school was where creating art and writing became important. It was a release and healing balm. Whatever came in my life that I needed comfort for, writing provided the outlet and the help I needed. I truly thank God for helping me to experience the joy of creating through writing then.
In my literature classroom was where poetry was introduced; creating words that made no sense but created sense in a beautiful way. It was there my understanding was open to the fact that people worship in different ways and it's not necessarily wrong, just different. It was there where I won my first creative writing contest, which sparked a flame of self esteem and comfort. Being sometimes the only black girl in class was intimidating at times. Kids can be so mean in private and public schools. I had finally found something I was recognized for, and stood out, other than winning races in running and swimming. Butterscotch was part of the winnings and because I'd never tasted that candy before it was most memorable. The ribbon, praise and cans was like winning a pot of gold.
The school was also where I experienced my first childhood crush. He was one of the few dark-skinned kids in school with big dark curly hair. I believe he was from India. Other boys liked me but I wasn't quite familiar with white boys yet. They also teased me, but he gave me something to write about. Most of the girls in my classes liked him so I kept it a secret crush.
The poem that I wrote was called love!
The poem called love was lost from my family moving around often and because I did not know the value of preserving artwork. I never forgot the reason for writing the poem, my crush, my love for others and the joy of releasing words. Being uprooted so often, I lost and made new friends all the time but I longed for stability of relationships that others had with friends. I eventually developed long distance but stable relationships with longevity.
Writing brought healing as I released words on the pages. They flowed like the breaths of air flowing from my lungs. It was exciting to say the least, as a child, creating art from the heart. Years passed without writing poetry but I continued to journal life experiences. I continued to write just to see something on paper especially when I couldn't make sense of the world. Some times the pages would go in the trash right after I wrote them.
My mother realized I liked to write when I wasn't in ballet class, choir practice at New Hope Baptist Church, skating, or at Oxford swimming pool down the street from the school. She gave me an assignment to write an uncle in prison. He was a Muslim. The letters back and forth alone was enough to have several books written but again because I didn't know the value, they were discarded.
He wrote several books and studied law so the letters were always an expected interesting treat. My grandma would shy away from his teaching, from the Koran, but I received a copy and explored the challenge. He and I would debate on issues but mostly agreed that there is one God over us all.
My life took me to California where I spent most if my days practicing with my team for track. Although I was a sprinter, and individual races made me a competitor. I qualified to run on teams. Our school had year round track so there was practice on a daily and our coach would pick our team up on Saturday's to run on the beach. Being busy with homework and practice I managed to squeeze time in to write letters.
It wasn't until I found out the lady I was sending my letters off with to be mailed at the post office was reading my letters, did I stop writing. I felt betrayed. My personal thoughts were viewed by an unauthorized person who I thought I could trust. The desire to write wasn't there after experiencing such betrayal. I've forgiven and moved on but it kept me from expressing what helped me move along in life.
I learned years later, we are created beings. God used His creative power to make everything in this world. He used words and spoke, "Let there be..."
We are made in His image and also have the creative abilities to create. After picking up the pen, writing again, I've been requested to share my created pieces at events around the Twin Cities and have even been paid for them but this will be the first published book of creative writings I assemble. Now, I'm writing a collection since I hadn't save any back then. I hope you enjoy the created art I believe I was created to write. May it move you, comfort you and evoke a passion to create!
We are created to create! ~Aries
Honestly Loving Me!
