Africa...

On the shores of a small remote island off the coast of Zanzibar in the middle of the Indian Ocean I bathed my soul in the warmest waters my skin had ever felt. Tepid, like a Saturday night bubble bath, I splashed happily around the crystal clear shallow waters. Here, in this open body of liquid tranquility the personification of my baptized spirit began to manifest itself in my thoughts. My mind, my body and my soul began to converse with one another about the transformation of my spirit in this strange, yet oddly familiar land. It was at that precise moment it became clear to me this would be a vacation like no other. As I began to ponder what lie ahead for me on this journey I heard a handsome African man whisper over the breeze..."welcome home Queen." I had become one with Mama Africa and in an instant my subconscious and conscious mind began to operate in tandem. Singing a chorus for my soul. One that I did not know it yearned to hear. They told me I was home despite never having laid a foot on this land. How could this comfort of knowing become second nature to my thought process absent of practice or learning? How did the food, the people, the history, the culture all become an instant part of my kinetic being? We were one without all the formalities of getting acquainted with one another. Here I stood in the mist of all that was known and unknown. Here is where I discovered that I too had a history.

Ode To Love...

Ode To Love...

You are mine and I am yours. There is a place in my heart that only you will dwell. Forever embedded in my soul, you have imprinted your spirit on me. My subconscious tells me that we have shared  a thousand lifetimes. Our spirits will dance together across the universe. The moon and the stars will be our connection until we meet again.

Beautiful Chocolate Man

Beautiful Chocolate Man

Beautiful silky smooth chocolate man.

Standing like an African King on the golden sand.

Piercing deeply through the crusted layers of my soul.

Unearthing the copious details of buried stories untold.

Ubiquitously you traverse my most intimate thoughts.

Pursuant of my love like the most treasured prize sought.

Your gentle smile radiates warmth and energy.

So breathless and impatiently I await our next meeting.

Firey conversations on culture and politics arouse my intellect.

Yet your claming spirit is pure and innocent.

Daydreams of infinite possibilities mixed with blissful tranquility.

Humbleness and love for your family shows your deep humility.

I come, I go, I come again.

Nights turn into days that turn into nights I never want to end.

Each time I leave I feel torn within.

I have met a man who has become my friend.

Beautiful silky smooth chocolate man.

Standing like an African King on the golden sand.

Michelle C. Clark

May 10, 2016

Lake Effect on Lake Michigan

Once a year go someplace you've never been before. I've seen this on social media memes, t-shirts and even a spiral notebook that I take notes in and write my plans to take over the world. I have always been a lover of travel periodicals and an unofficial student of the geography of mother earth. Yes, there are a ton of places on my bucket list that are mapped out across the globe. Yet, there are beautiful landscapes and adventure state side. More specifically, in the state of Michigan. My home state.

It still amazes me sometimes that I have lived in this state my entire life and had never set sights on Lake Michigan from the shores of Michigan. Yet here I was at work 3 nights before the 4th of July holiday planning a last minute excursion for favorite son and myself. Somewhere along the way I managed to entice a friend and her son to accompany us on our  last minute venture out west.

GO WEST DIVA

So of course booking anything 3 days prior to the holiday is going to be next to impossible, but I'm Chelle Possible. Giving up is never an option. I sat on my computer half the night trying to figure out which west coast town I wanted to visit. One of my coworkers saw my dilemma and offered what turned out to be some very helpful advice. He suggested we check out Grand Haven, Michigan. Since I had no idea which beach town to hit I took his advice. I'm so glad I did. It's a quaint little town on the eastern shores of Lake Michigan. The beaches on the western side of the state rival anything in Florida during the summer months. The lighthouse and pier served as inspiration to my son who is a brilliant artist. We did a short trip up to the Silver Lake Sand Dunes where we took the Mac Woods Dune Buggy Ride excursion. I had no idea how awesome sand dunes were, much less how close they were to the metro Detroit area.

We enjoyed the sand dunes, the beauty of the beach and nicety of small town America. The quaint shops and friendly restaurants and cafes make you feel like a local. Grand Haven won me over. I can't wait to get back to that side of the state again this summer. Once a year go somewhere you've never been before. It doesn't have to be on the other side of the world. It can be in your own backyard. For me that place that brought about a new adventure with new experiences was Grand Haven, Michigan.

 

Dinner & Diva's

During the course of my often hectic work schedule I try to eke out a little time to break bread with the women I refer to as #Divas. My support system of sorts, these are the women whom over the years I have grown fond of. The women I enjoy spending my most precious resource on, time. Since I have dubbed myself the unofficial Sunny Anderson of the group I'm usually on hosting duties. It's always fun for me to develop menus with unheard of recipes that once scanning the ingredients list you know the combination will yield scrumptious results. Everyone brings a bottle of whatever libation we've agreed on to get the merriment going and of course keep the head Chef happy.

Despite my downsizing to a townhouse with a smaller kitchen we still find ourselves all huddled together there laughing about whatever topic has bulldozed the conversation. My friends become sous chefs starring in my personal epicurean episode. Chopping, dicing, mixing and peeling we work together. It's a combination of Parts Unknown and Down Home with the Neelys as many of the dishes I make are often new to us, but manage to get that familiar feeling.

During this time we share stories, laugh, solicit advice, encourage, motivate and debate everything from politics to love. It's an eclectic mix of conversation and thought. I appreciated the ease and frankness of our discussions. I appreciate what I take away from each of our encounters. I am often reminded that time moves at a pace no human being is prepared for and that I need to slow down. That these are the relationships I want to maintain as I navigate this journey called life. I find solace in this sisterhood of support and kinship. I am a better woman for it.

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

Sitting on the porch for what seems like the first comfortable morning in weeks, I find myself sufficiently amused by the early morning breeze rustling the leaves of our cheap city planted trees. I know it’s probably an exaggeration to say this, but it feels like I have been trapped in the comforts of air conditioning for a lifetime. A self imposed imprisonment of sorts.  So patiently, I waited to come out to enjoy the gentle sunshine and temperate climate of a true Michigan summer morning.

The stillness of morning eases my soul, while gently (relaxing) my mind.  A bird sings his tranquil soliloquy perched on a distant branch.  Squirrels play tag as a car cruises by with neighbors on their way to church to offer praises. I silently whisper…’pray for me.’  Two houses down Ms. Pearl works on her award winning flower bed, vibrant with color and fragrance. The bees make sure to stop by here to pay homage for her efforts. These are the kind of mornings that I yearn for. These moments of peace that often elude us as urban dwellers.

As I settle into my favorite spot on the front porch, my neighbors began to awake one by one from their various forms of slumber to enjoy these early morning hours.  It is during this time that the true “Breakfast Club” meets to discuss the politics of the neighborhood and the social mores of its residents. We carefully exam the complexities of our world, absent of the issues that affect the city as whole. We choose to dissect our small section of the city one juicy issue at a time.  We remember those who have gone on as well as those who have moved on. We use this time to tell stories about the greatness once held by our neighborhood and the glory of days to come. We plan, we dream, we talk, we gossip and we believe. We use this time to plan our methods of holding on to what we have all worked so hard to maintain.

These early morning moments bring about a rebirth of ideas.  Cool and refreshing as the dew dripping off my windows, the newness of this day ushers in hope of all things possible.  Then out of nothingness that perfect moment is abruptly interrupted by the randomness of rapid gunfire. It feels like out of nowhere our Breakfast Club has been dropped into an active war zone. Only the enemies are unknown and the battle is not quite defined.  We look at each other with disgust, then a keen sense of fear feels the air, as we know bullets travel. So one by one we retreat into our homes to an unproven sense of safety.  Within that moment many of us are now alone, afraid, disconnected, disgusted ready to flee at the first opportunity.  We cringe, because deep down we know our city is being preyed upon by urban terrorist. A group of fatherless sons and daughters who roam in a purple haze of dissolution. No goal. No direction. No hope. Just a clear objective of terror, thievery and destruction. Finally, as I surrender behind closed doors and drawn shades I wonder quietly to myself, what are we missing? How have we failed our future?

The Art of Joy

I can remember back when my grandmother would slave in the kitchen all night long so that her family could savor the flavor of her soulful talents.  Many meals I cook today are an ode to her greatness as a self taught gourmet of food for the soul.  As I think fondly of the countless holidays she cooked for us, I am reminded that the most important memory is the time we spent together as a family. Many jokes were told and stories shared around the dinning room table of Catherine Dorothy Deramus Cast or simply Mudea. Over these meals the history of our family was handed down from one generation to the unknowing next.

I think my love of cooking and entertaining began to manifest itself when favorite daughter and favorite son were toddlers. Looking back, I see how I progressed to organizing some pretty awesome themed birthday parties at home. I miss a lot of the fanfare associated with those days. The excessive amount of decorations. The need to find all things "Power Puff Girls."  The over the top goodies bags. Even adults loved the parties I organized for my kids. Absolutely nothing screams "C-E-L-E-B-R-A-T-E" like a ceiling full of colorful balloons from a rented helium tank.  All this for the birthday party of a 6 year old....on a Monday night. 

As I have gotten older I now understand that from these gatherings memories are made. Stories are formed. Traditions and history are passed on.  As we break bread for holidays,  birthdays, graduations, baby showers and weddings we begin to add our patch to the growing patchwork that represents our family and friends.

Time is always moving, forever changing the things and people around us. So it is important to take those snap shots of our experiences and marinate on them so that they are ingrained in our soul. What I have and will continue to cherish are those holidays and birthdays spent around my Mudea's dinning room table and the lofty aromas that floated through the air.