Her beauty was intense and her smile forever glowed.
Capturing the hearts of many only to leave them longing for more…
First name – Summer
Last name – Love
She knew not to love deeply.
She knew not to love long.
She knew that the love they created in this space and time would be as hot and as intense as the summer heat that sweltered in her grandmother’s tiny two-bedroom flat on the island.
Even though their days were spent as inseparable lovers, she knew that when the time came for them to journey off in their separate ways, she would probably never see, nor hear from him again.
But she settled her heart and found solace in the fact that this short amount of time would prove to be
the most fulfilling
the most passionate
the most joyous in her life
And it always did…
We all get into a rut from time to time with our entree choices and I especially find myself preparing the same thing over and over, so I was excited when a coworker of mine told me about her Pinterest board filled with tried and true vegetarian recipes.
One recipe that immediately caught my eye was Stuffed Portobellos. I read over the recipe and my mouth literally watered. Portobello caps, seasoned with fresh herbs and topped with an egg – it sounded easy enough to try and I’m glad I did. Great idea for brunch too!
Taken from What’s Cooking, Mexico
The following is a poem I wrote as a senior in high school. I can remember dealing with many insecurities and issues about my own self and how others viewed me. People were quick to point out what I lacked…all of my “if only you were…” I finally came to the realization that I had to accept everything about myself; my hair, my lips, my nose shape, my skin tone, my height, my body size. This poem was the result of that moment of self-acceptance.
I may not have
The long, light-brown hair
You so often fantasize,
And I may not have
A slender nose
Or sultry hazel eyes.
But I do have
Talents of sorts
And many abilities,
So I ask that you
Look beyond my outward appearance
And accept me for me
I may not be
The tall mystery
That attracts all of your affection,
And I may not have
The shapes and curves
And an unblemished, fair complexion.
But I do have
An open heart
And an unblemished inward beauty,
So once again
All I ask of you
Is to accept me for me.
Do I sound too bold?
Do I sound too proud?
Or maybe even too profound?
It’s just that I’ve seen
This inward part of me
And I’m pleased with what I’ve found.
Even though I’m not the image
You desire so much
The one of your fantasies,
It’s just that I’m striving
To be the very best
So just accept me for me.
Blindly traveling through life, I ask myself,
“Isn’t there a better way?”
How many times shall I stumble and fumble?
How many times shall I bump and bruise?
My path seems so dark sometimes that I don’t know where I’m going.
I can’t recall where I’ve been.
But I know my eyes deceive me with mirages and illusions,
fool me into thinking I see something that just isn’t there.
— Courage becomes fear
— Loyalty becomes betrayal
— Truth becomes lies
At times I want to call upon Elisha’s spirit to utter that same prayer he did for his servant —
“LORD, I pray thee, open her eyes, that she may see!”
I ask you dear Lord, anoint my eyes with clay and wash them in your chosen river so that I can receive your sight.
Open my eyes so that I can see those horses and chariots of fire you have surrounding and protecting me.
Open my eyes so that I may see the angel you sent to stand in my way when I was on the wrong path.
Open my eyes so that I can see the well of water you supplied as I wandered so long in the wilderness.
Lord, I pray thee, open my eyes, that I MAY SEE!
What does silence sound like?
Silence no longer sounds the same as it had before.
Before, the silence was filled with so much conversation
— the nonverbal understandings
— the all-knowing glances
— the all-telling touches.
But now, the silence that exists between us gets more deafening day-by-day.
Now it’s so long, now it’s so loud.
When did this silence become so uncomfortable? Almost unbearable?
When did it become dense with so many unanswered questions?
When did it become so thick with apathy and indifference?
Silence is to be quiet – but between us it’s so loud.
Silence is to be peaceful – but between us it’s so chaotic.
Silence is to be light – but between us it’s so heavy.
And this silence between us gets longer and longer – louder and louder.
Silence sounds much different than it had before and I no longer recognize this
One night, as parents often do, I was assisting my youngest son with his assignment. It was Cultural Diversity Week at his school and all of the students were required to research their culture and heritage and bring back information to present to the class and to put on display. All I could think of was “here we go again.” My reaction didn’t mean I didn’t want to participate, but rather I had a difficult time figuring out HOW to participate. Although this was my third child doing this activity, it still wasn’t any easier this time around.
I imagined children with German, Chinese, Russian, and Italian ancestors bringing family recipes and foods that represented their countries or displaying pictures that they could easily print from the Internet, but what were we going to do this year? Of course my son picked Africa as his country, but I still couldn’t think of what to do.
Africa is a large CONTINENT comprised of several countries. Each with its own culture, language, beliefs, traditions, foods. Where and how was I going to direct my son with this project? I probably put more time and energy into this project than other parents would have, but this supposedly simple task bothered me to my core. I know my heritage is rooted in Africa, but from where? From which country? We can all speculate, but very few of us can actually say with confidence, “I am of the Yoruba of West Africa” or “of the Zulus of South Africa” or “of the Nubian tribe of North Africa” or “of the Somalian people of East Africa.”
And here we are, a people stripped from our own heritage, culture and history trying so hard to celebrate a condensed version of it because that’s all we know, because that’s all we’ve been afforded to know. Yes, I do enjoy learning facts about what African Americans have done for this country and the strides that we’ve made, but my history begins long before the feet of the ancestors of my great-great-great grandma Classy Ann Miller hit the shores of America. Now that’s the type of history I’m searching for.
Organic, authentic, pure, funky, soul – how else can I describe the debut release Fear Not by St. Paul neo-soul, singer songwriter, PaviElle? Listening to her CD places you there in the nightclub bobbing your head to that kick-snare-hat drumbeat. And when her vocals breakdown into a lower octave then drifts up into a jazzy scat, you can almost feel her performing in your midst. Hats off to PaviElle for her rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams.” Stripped down to it’s lyrical core, stretched out over a slower beat, and doused with horns and organs, the song screams a soulfulness that was probably there all along.
But my favorite is the lead track, “Runnin'” that introduces us to PaviElle’s scats, a funky baseline, and a horn section that sneaks up on you. Then it breaks off into this gut-feeling anthem that midway through the track, you drop your bobbing head and raise your waving hands.
♫ Reaching – dreaming – pushing – scheming wanting something to believe in
Fighting demons writing because my purpose has a reason ♫
Support good music
Website: PaviElle Music
You Tube: PaviElle Booking
Facebook: PaviElle Music
Like most people, I enjoy a great movie. I don’t need all of the glitz and glam of a blockbuster. Just give me a great story, solid acting and an interesting plot and I’m there.
That may be why I’ve come to enjoy documentaries so much. I love learning about people’s life experiences and view events through a historical perspective. Or maybe it’s just a documentary that gives the story behind the story…I like that too.
To celebrate this genre of films, I’ve started to look for documentaries that speak to Black History and have come across some great gems.
The first documentary I’d like to share is
Free Angela Davis and All Political Prisoners (2012)
If you think you know all there is about Angela Davis, “black radicalism,” and American Idealism, you probably don’t. Her raised black power fist and perfectly coiffed afro became the picturesque symbol of black pride, but the story behind the image had never been told in such a poignantly way. This documentary gives voice to Angela the woman, the human and tells the story of her trial in a way that you will never read about in history books.
Free Angela Davis and All Political Prisoners is a must-see documentary because it resonates beyond the cultural boundaries of Black History, and beyond the coastal boundaries of American history. This is world history at its finest because the entire world was watching.
Who would have thought gospel could groove and move you like this? It doesn’t even matter if you are a gospel lover, you will undoubtedly appreciate what Liz Vice has done with her debut CD There’s a Light. I was hooked from the very first guitar strum of “Empty Me Out” and when the drum combination came in, I immediately thought that this was not your ordinary gospel CD. Combining old time soul and the heartfelt message of God’s goodness, this CD leaves no stone unturned. Whether it’s the funkiness of “Pure Religion,” the haunting melodies of “The Source,” or the emotional soulfulness of “There’s a Light,” Liz Vice proves she can deliver.
♫ Empty me out, Fill me with You, Lord there is nothing, I can give to You
I lay down my life, Here at Your feet, You give me life, So completely.♫
Support good music
Facebook: Liz Vice Music