In progress...

I am still here...I promise. I'm just trying to make it to tomorrow (my senior sermon & arts internship presentation).

I've been slack in reporting in since my hiatus. I've reached my weight loss goals, which this time around has become less about a number and more about a feeling. I love my body--my grown woman curvy body--which sustains me and carries me and is able to run with ease. I feel comfortable, for real, with who I am. My boyfriend *giggle* calls me a beautiful nerd. Yep, that's about right. (I call him a nerd lover.) I have made art, good art with by boy Jameel, over the last few weeks (and even entered a campus-wide arts contest in which we were chosen as finalists). I am embodying my preacher self and it shows. What I did not understand three years ago is starting to make some sense. Ahhhh, revelation. With 26 days until graduation, all is well with my soul. I feel good. In some ways I feel like I'm glowing.

To prove that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, here is a glimpse of my work. It is still in progress. My guiding question is, "what would it mean to consider human life, in general, and African-American female life, in particular, sacred text?" Notice the halos... I have been inspired by the form of the illuminated manuscript--an ancient tradition of making texts come alive.

The first image is a photograph of my mother, my sister, and me at my uncles wedding (circa 1977). The second image is a drawing that I've rendered of that image. I still have to add color and other details.

Once the work is done, presentation over, and body restored (aka I take a series of good naps) then I will post the entire body of work along with the artist statement.

I Don't Feel No Ways Tired...

There is a hymn that I love, by Rev. James Cleveland, called "I Don't Feel No Ways Tired." Well, when I was in the middle of my run today—six-5 minute runs with 1 minute rest in between each—this song echoed in my heart. I mean, I'm not an athletic girl and 18 days ago when I set out on this "3 Weeks to a 20 minute running habit" program designed by Christina Luff on About.com, I was huffing and puffing my way through 1 minute runs. Today, I ran with ease. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't sprinting...I'm no Jackie Joyner Kearsee, but I also wasn't out of breath or watching the clock. In fact, today, running was like breathing—second nature. I'm so glad to be able to sing, "I don't feel no ways tired. Come to far from where I've started from. Nobody told me the road would be easy, but I don't believe He's brought me this far to leave me." Selah.

Baby it's Cold Outside...

It is 29º and I am about to go walking. Why, you ask? (amid thoughts of "girl, are you crazy, it's below freezing" and "you must smoke that good CRACK.") Well, because among other things, I committed this year to taking care of myself in the midst of book reading, thought thinking, and paper writing. So far, so good. I hit a couple of bumps in the road when big papers were due, but for the most part I've kept my workout schedule even when I traveled to South Carolina, Texas, and Tennessee. I've lost 15lbs since September and I'm halfway to getting my body to feel and look like it did when I attended my orientation at Drew 2.5 years ago. I'm doing it slowly and surely. I am cooking more, and eating less (using a salad plate for dinner)but I haven't gone to any crazy extremes. I tried, but I love food—rich food—too much! (In fact, I'm still eating my Atlanta Bread Company chcolate chip cookies because I loooove them so much!)

Oh, I almost forgot...Back to being outdoors in the freezing cold. I could go to the gym. We even have an indoor track on campus. But the gym bores me. Plus I could be in the gym for 6.5 minutes and feel like I've been there forever. For me, there is something about being outside—beholding the beauty of God's creation, breathing fresh (albeit cold) air, seeing people, scouting out deer (and being afraid when I see them), and the change of scenery (even when you walk down the same block two days in a row). So, I will head outside. Perhaps the wind died down some from yesterday. That is my prayer. Also, as much as the gym bores me—it is my safe haven when it is raining and/or snowing. It will be the place to be when the winter really sets in. Plus, there are squash courts at the gym. Squash makes me happy (even though I look crazy playing and I play by my own rules).

And I'm into alternative exercise these days. I'm not talking pole dancing classes (which are all the rage, but the womanist and Jesus in me won't let me do it). I've taken to hula-hooping lately. I'm not talking about hula-hooping like we used to do it on the playground back in the day. (OK, maybe I was one of those Black girls who couldn't hula-hoop back in the day, but watch me now!) The motion is the same, but I dare some third-grade sassy girl with asymmetrical afro puffs to try to work with the hoop I have. For one, its giant. (But hey, I'm a big girl now. Plus experts say adults should use bugger hoops than kids.) Secondly, it is weighted and has these massaging/digestion aiding thingies (several advanced degrees later I still use the word) on the inside of the hoop (see image above). I hula-hoop while listening to my Rock Steady Radio station on Pandora. I hula-hoop while watching Law & Order reruns. I hula-hoop while visioning my future. I hula-hoop. In 2010—watch out world—thanks to a generous Christmas present from my momma (why my mom cannot keep secrets about gifts is yet another blog) I will be Wii and Wii Fitting it to good health.

But until then, I'm heading out to walk and breath. But first, let me put on my thermal underwear and headphone earmuffs. Baby, it's cold outside!

“How does one become a butterfly?" she asked...

I'm not sure why, perhaps it is because I've spent most of my life—either as a student or teacher—in school, but August has typically been a month I spend in the cocoon preparing to fly. At times I've been forced into the cocoon, like the year when my Aunt Mildred passed away. Life as I had known it had changed. At times I have voluntarily gathered my things—Bible, journal, pen—and entered the cocoon. Those were the moments when I was anticipating and craving transformation. Whether involuntarily or of my own volition, the cocoon has always been a good place for me.

cocoon |kəˈkoōn|nouna silky case spun by the larvae of many insects for protection as pupae.• a similar structure made by other animals.• a covering that prevents the corrosion of metal equipment.• something that envelops or surrounds, esp. in a protective or comforting way : the cocoon of her kimono | figurative a warm cocoon of love. ORIGIN late 17th cent.: from French cocon, from medieval Provençalcoucoun ‘eggshell, cocoon,’ diminutive of coca ‘shell.’ The verb dates from the mid 19th cent.

You have read how Oxford defines the cocoon, but I know you are wondering what does the cocoon mean for/to me? The cocoon is the place where I am changed. It is a place of growth and increased strength. It is a place of darkness of loneliness and sometimes pain. It is the place where my colors and wings are developing. It is the place where I complain about not yet being a butterfly. It is the place where I muster up the courage to fly. It is a place where I struggle and grow tired. It is the place where I write without ceasing. It is the place where I pray without ceasing. It is the place where, for all of the reason I listed above and so many more, I commune with God most intimately. It is the place where, despite the difficult transformation taking place, I am safe and secure. I trust that when I break free from the cocoon I will be stronger, more beautiful, and ready to soar. I will be a butterfly.

So, today, as I prepare to enter my cocoon, I share with you some pearls of wisdom that I've gathered over the years about caterpillars, cocoons, and butterflies (which, by the way, is the title of the dope mix CD that my bestie gave me for my 32nd birthday. It still gets much play on my iPod.) Enjoy!

"Just when the caterpillar thought that life was over, it became a butterfly" (Anonymous)

"You are destined to fly, but that cocoon has got to go." (Nelle Morton)

"If you want a butterfly, you gotta be a butterfly." (India.Aire)

"If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies." (Anonymous)

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." (Maya Angelou)

"Just like the butterfly, I too will awaken in my own time." (Deborah Chaskin)

“How does one become a butterfly?" she asked. "You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.” (Anonymous)

"When the time comes for the caterpillar to change into a butterfly it spins a cocoon around itself. Once the cocoon is finished the change starts to take place. Everything about the caterpillar becomes different. What will emerge later on after a great struggle is not a caterpillar with wings but a new creature! It is a butterfly!" (Anonymous)