Reimagining My Life

Life after becoming an Aborisha has been phenomenally beautiful and extremely challenging to say the least. I realize that the narratives of my life are being completely dismantled and I am forced out of the comforts of my old ways of coping. 

I am no longer able to do what I used to do when triggered by things from my past. I am having to feel all the feels, cry the tears that I typically hold in, speak my truth, even sleep now. My spirit was tired of living a lie. I am not invincible- I am human.

My daily prayers and connection to my ancestors as well as my Ori is causing me to also express my worth in a way that I never thought I would before. I am saying no to people I never would have before, declining dates if it doesn’t resonate with me, even restructuring my business to charge what I know I am worth. The standards that I am setting for myself and others are foreign to me- but, so very necessary. 

I am seeing how so many of the connections that I held so dear before, that I fought so hard for, were never healthy for me. But, there is comfort in familiarity. Familiarity almost got away with the last remnants of me. Not anymore. 

I am seeing how all things have been aligning for such a time as this. I have desires that surpass the mundane, passions that I had put down because of obligations, and a cultivation of practices that I must work on right now. Time is of the essence.

I am resolving to live this life fully, on my own terms, in full pursuit of my destiny. I have waited and ran away long enough. There is so much that awaits me on the other side of this reimagination period. This is the first time that I am living in a space with so much peace, feeling so much ease, being able to be totally and completely A. 

I am having to sit with my emotions, cut the cords from all the dysfunction, function as the diving being as I am. Besides the ramblings and disagreements of my children, the only other sound is of my own growth- the uncomfortable quiet of being with myself. It is scary this new existence- but I am also so grateful. 

So grateful

 

Ashaki

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Creating Our Own Traditions

My children and I have gotten into the practice of creating and cultivating our own traditions over the years. We have our annual fall feast, our summer trips, our weekly movie nights, and the sometimes dreaded family meetings.

One new tradition that I am happy to be able to share with my daughters is being adorned with waistbeads. In my family, being adorned with Afrikan waistbeads is not for fashion- it is highly spiritual and sacred. In ancient times, young women of a certain age were adorned as she matured into pubescence and beyond. My family and I follow a similar tradition.

I had the honor of creating and adorning my oldest daughter today. Each bead color was carefully selected and threaded- white for purity, blue for protection, pink and rose quartz for love. She was so happy to receive her first strand today.

As I tied them on her tiny waist, I felt I had somehow done this before- as if every action I  had taken was a repeat of those from long past. I do sincerely believe that we are our ancestors- that we follow similar ways of being once we have tuned into the frequency of those who came and lived before.

As I gave offerings of food at my ancestor altar this evening, I felt my inner self beam with pride because I know the ancestral mothers see me and all that I am doing to keep my Tribe connected to the old ways. It is so important that as we move forward in our lives, that we pay reverence to those who are responsible for us being here now.

Ase’ to the ancestors always!

 

Peace,

Ashaki

Ancestors Watching Over Me

Today, I decided to do some cleaning. I am not working and felt the need to just clean. I began in the bathroom, which is my usual practice, wiping down the sink, toilet, shower, sweeping, rearranging, and reorganizing. Then I moved on to the bedroom, folding clothes and gathering laundry that needed to be washed and so on and so forth.
Then I decided that my altar cloths needed to be washed and the altars needed to be cleansed as well. After the laundry was done and I began to sage the space of my ancestor altar and place everything back in order, I had an urge to change the position and dig up more pictures to add.
I went through my albums and found a picture of my great-grandmother and my uncle Otha Jr. I began to remember a flood of things- from Mama’s laugh to Uncle Otha Jr’s cool stride, to the stories, the meals, riding in his ’64 Impala convertible. I couldn’t help but to also begin to feel sad and overcome with emotions.
There are so many stories that should be shared but the family that once was is not anymore. My mother and I are estranged and have not seen or spoken in a year and a half or longer. Her brother and I were practically raised together, yet he has chosen to not have anything to do with me either. Other family members have passed away or we simply just do not communicate.
I remember my grandmother calling family meetings of sorts for members to hash out their disagreements. Whether they agreed in the end or agreed to disagree, it was always decided that we were still family- through good, bad, or ugly- no matter what. But, once she transcended this earthly life, that fell apart.
I often wonder if there was something else that I could or should have done differently but, I always come back to “Is being who they want serving my highest good?” And the answer, in short, is a resounding no. I cannot be Andre’a Danielle DeBerry, the little girl who endured much, who was a perfectionist, fighting to be herself yet, also fighting to fit in and be someone that the family was proud of. I cannot sit in church and pretend. I cannot be in a loveless marriage just for the sake of saying that I am married to my children’s father. I cannot endure toxicity from my mother or my uncle.
Stepping away from it all, moving away, and choosing to live a life so far removed has not been easy but, it absolutely has been necessary. I had to find me and ultimately choose me. I was not perfect but, I definitely was not walking a true path and had no peace because of it.
Ancestral reverence is a huge part of my life and sometimes I struggle with wondering if my ancestors are upset because of the path that I chose. But, when I hear my great-grandmother’s laugh, or my grandma Lillie comes in a dream and hugs me, I know that I am not a disappointment at all. I am my ancestor’s wildest dream. And all because I chose to live the radical concept of defining and being exactly who the hell I want to be.
May my ancestors forever guide and protect me and may I continue to be brave and make them proud.

Ase,
Ashaki