Naima Mora's Blog, page 4
January 23, 2013
Humble Beginnings
I grew up in Detroit, Michigan – a small town by the measurement of some. I never thought I would have lived the life I am living right now. I mean, I had big dreams, but I never really thought they were possible.
I figured being less financially well off and from a small town, my chances were slim to none. But I had to at least try. My heart longed for doing what made me happy. I was born a performer and a writer.
I looked up to my heroes, people whom also had humble beginnings. These people made their lives what they wanted them to be with a lot of hard work and belief. Inevitably they also changed the world in doing so. These were thoughtful people, acting for the sake of others through compassion. These were committed people, not allowing themselves to be defeated.
Elizabeth Catlett’s work.
These were people like my grandmother, Elizabeth Catlett, and her friend, Frida Kahlo- feminist and humanist! These were people like Nelson Mandela, whose jail cell I visited on a small island off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa.
My hand shook, trembling as I unlocked the gate to the room where he had been held unrightfully for some 18 years- almost the amount of time I had been alive. He changed the world from that prison cell!
“With my free spirit, I really didn’t have a choice but to adopt one very important idea, ‘If they could do it, I can do it!’” (Naima Mora: Model Behavior)
I decided that although I came from a humble background, I would become thoughtful, compassionate and committed. I would follow my dreams with the idea that in achieving them I could help to impact the world in a positive way.
I decided that in this pursuit I would change the world even if just by helping, inspiring, or encouraging one person. A small act is never too small when based on compassion and love.
What are you doing to change the world?
The post Humble Beginnings appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
January 15, 2013
How To Know Your Friends Are Genuine
This week’s guest piece is from Marc and Angel Hack Life. In Model Behavior I give some insight into what makes a real friend, and why you need to avoid friends that do not have your best interest at heart. This article gives you 15 excellent points about what makes a real friend REAL!!!
***
As we grow, we realize it becomes less important to have more friends and more important to have real ones.
The real jewels in the bedrock of relationships: real friends.
Remember, life is kind of like a party. You invite a lot of people, some leave early, some stay all night, some laugh with you, some laugh at you, and some show up really late. But in the end, after the fun, there are a few who stay to help you clean up the mess. And most of the time, they aren’t even the ones who made the mess. These people are your real friends in life. They are the ones who matter most.
Here are 15 things real friends do differently:
They face problems together. – A person who truly knows and loves you – a real friend – is someone who sees the pain in your eyes while everyone else still believes the smile on your face. Don’t look for someone who will solve all your problems; look for someone who will face them with you.
They give what they can because they truly care. – One of the biggest challenges in relationships comes from the fact that many of us enter a relationship in order to get something. We try to find someone who’s going to make us feel good. In reality, the only way a relationship will last, and give us joy in the long-term, is if we see our relationship as a place we go to give, and not just a place we go to take. Yes, of course it is okay to take something from a relationship too. But both sides should be giving. It can only be a ‘give and take’ if BOTH SIDES are GIVING. That’s the key.
They make time for each other. – It’s obvious, but any relationship without any face time is going to have problems. You shouldn’t have to fight for a spot in someone’s life. Never force someone to make a space in their life for you, because if they truly care about you, they will create one for you. (Read The How of Happiness.)
They offer each other freedom. – A healthy relationship keeps the doors and windows wide open. Plenty of air is circulating and no one feels trapped. Relationships thrive in this environment. Keep your doors and windows open. If this person is meant to be in your life, all the open doors and windows in the world won’t make them leave.
They communicate effectively. – It’s been said many times before, but it’s true: great communication is the cornerstone of a great relationship. If you have resentment, you must talk it out rather than let the resentment grow. If you are jealous, you must communicate in an open and honest manner to address your insecurities. If you have expectations of your partner, you must communicate them. If there are any problems whatsoever, you must communicate them and work them out. And communicate more than just problems – communicate the good things too.
They accept each other as is. – Trying to change a person never works. People know when they are not accepted in their entirety, and it hurts. A real friend is someone who truly knows you, and loves you just the same. Don’t change so people will like you. Be yourself and the right people will love the real you. If you feel like changing something about your friend, ask yourself what change you can make in yourself instead.
They are genuine, and expect genuineness. – As Leo F. Buscaglia once said, “Never idealize others. They will never live up to your expectations. Don’t over-analyze your relationships. Stop playing games. A growing relationship can only be nurtured by genuineness.” Don’t play games with people’s heads and hearts. Remember, love and friendship doesn’t hurt. Lying, cheating and screwing with people’s feelings and emotions hurts. Always be open, honest, and genuine. (Read The Mastery of Love.)
They compromise. – Real friends meet in the middle. When there’s a disagreement, they work out a solution that works for both parties – a compromise, rather than a need for the other person to change or completely give in.
They support each other’s growth changes. – Our needs change with time. When someone says, “You’ve changed,” it’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it just means you’ve grown. Don’t apologize for it. Instead, be open and sincere, explain how you feel, and keep doing what you know in your heart is right.
They believe in each other. – Simply believing in another person, and showing it in your words and deeds, can make a huge difference in their life. Studies of people who grew up in dysfunctional homes but who grew up to be happy and successful show that the one thing they had in common was someone who believed in them. Do this for those you care about. Support their dreams and passions and hobbies. Participate with them. Cheer for them. Be nothing but encouraging. Whether they actually accomplish these dreams or not, your belief is of infinite importance to them.
They maintain realistic expectations of their relationship. – No one is happy all the time. Friends must keep realistic expectations of each other. Notice when you’re projecting something onto the other person that has nothing to do with them, like a fear from a past relationship, and then make an effort to let it go. Recognize when you’re looking for that person to do something for you, that you need to do for yourself; like making you feel lovable or taking care of your needs, and then release those expectations and do it for yourself.
They honor each other in small ways on a regular basis. – Honor your important relationships in some way every chance you get. Every day you have the opportunity to make your relationship sweeter and deeper by making small gestures to show your appreciation and affection. Remember, making one person smile can change the world. Maybe not the whole world, but their world. Your kindness and gratitude matters. Make an effort to really listen – not just wait to talk. See the other person as if for the first time. It’s all too easy to take someone for granted. Really notice all the wonderful things they do, and let them know what you see.
They listen, and they hear every word. – Giving a person a voice, and showing them that their words matter, will have a long-lasting impact on them. Less advice is often the best advice. People don’t need lots of advice. They need a listening ear and some positive reinforcement. What they want to know is often already somewhere inside of them. They just need time to think, be and breathe, and continue to explore the undirected journeys that will eventually help them find their direction.
They keep their promises. – Your word means everything. If you say you’re going to do something, DO IT! If you say you’re going to be somewhere, BE THERE! If you say you feel something, MEAN IT! If you can’t, won’t, and don’t, then DON’T LIE. Real friends keep promises and tell the truth upfront. (Read The Four Agreements.)
They stick around. – The sad truth is that there are some people who will only be there for you as long as you have something they need. When you no longer serve a purpose to them, they will leave. The good news is, if you tough it out, you’ll eventually weed these people out of your life and be left with some great people you can count on. We rarely lose friends and lovers, we just gradually figure out who our real ones are.
The post How To Know Your Friends Are Genuine appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
January 14, 2013
Perception: What We Think is What We Believe
The most important thing about perception in life is how we see ourselves. If the baby cub sees himself as a lion, he will act as a lion and live as a lion king. The belief we have in ourselves will take us the farthest we can go. And just when we think we’ve given it our all, that belief will propel us to heights we couldn’t even imagine before. What we think is what we believe, and so checking our beliefs and preceptions is one way of improving the power we have over and in our own lives.
Me and a JellyFish at the Coney Island Aquarium.
I run for exercise in the mornings and more often than not, it is inconsistent. My schedule has different demands of me daily but when I have the time, I run. Often, I’m tired and I want to sleep in. However, I learned not too long ago that everything that makes me truly happy requires great effort. So I must put forth that effort to see the result.
Alas, I role lazily out of bed, put on my sneakers, shorts, sweatshirt, and plug my headphones into my IPod. What awaits is a thirty minute personal journey and triumph.
I wouldn’t challenge myself with this run if I didn’t know I could do it. The most difficult part is not stopping to rest every two minutes. Step by step, minute by minute, I focus on my breath and pacing my movement so as to maintain a consistent, steady and determined stride. I can feel my muscles pushing me forward and I feel strong!
Just when I think I can’t manage another step, I take another deep breath and continue forward. The earth spinning, me feeling like I’m going to vomit, I continue. I might slow my stride occasionally, but I am always determined to not stop until I have reached just past my target.
Another part of self-perception is in understanding that it has a big influence on how we see the world. We form our opinions based on our experience and create our own biases. These biases can color our perception of the world around us. I think it is really important to keep that in mind when trying to maintain an open mind.
When we keep an open mind on the world and the people that inhabit it, we also are allowing it to live and breathe to its fullest potential. We are also allowing it to affect us in all the positive ways that it can.
What experiences have you had about perception – about yourself or others? Share that with me here at my Fan Corner!
The post Perception: What We Think is What We Believe appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
January 1, 2013
Coming to America
This is a story written so beautifully, submitted by my fan Emanuel Anzules, so well-written and moving it needs no introduction from me. That we all came from somewhere is something we share; but we forget we also all share a story of origin where our relatives risked their lives to give us a better one. This story reminds us of how much we have in common though we may come from different ends of the world.
- Naima
“Coming To America” by Emanuel Anzules
“A couple of years ago my mother told me that she had never been so scared in her life when she made the arrangement for me to travel into the U.S. illegally using someone else’s identity. She knew that she was taking a risk. Risking getting caught, risking deportation, but as any other mother would be, concerned with risking my well-being.
In the early nineties this exchange was first becoming popular, and it was perhaps one of the only ways for anyone to migrate to the states without the proper documentation. The coyotes would charge a large lump sum, down payment and all, to have family members brought to America.
Emanuel Anzules
These smugglers promised the seamless trafficking of individuals of all ages, and would collect the money even if things went sour. Unfortunately for the family members, they would never recuperate the money they had initially frontloaded, and oftentimes the coyotes disappeared, never to be seen again.
My mother paid nearly five thousand dollars and waited approximately a year for “Operation: Emanuel to America” to take place. I never had any desire to travel outside of my bubble in La Victoria, a slum right in the center of the Peruvian capital, but if given the opportunity, I would not resist. I would have to leave behind all that I knew, all that I loved, but most importantly, I would have to leave the old Emanuel and begin a new life in search of the Emanuel that would last a lifetime.
“Amor Eterno” was playing in the background as I looked around the room upon first opening my eyes that morning. As Rocio Durcal poured her heart out with each lyric, I began to feel more and more cemented to the bed, not wanting to get up, hoping that the song would last forever.
“Please keep singing, don’t stop Rocio, whatever you do…don’t stop!” I thought to myself, realizing that the song would indeed come to an end. I knew my grandmother felt no differently. I could not even look at her because I knew that the feeling would be too strong to handle. Looking at her would break me into a million pieces that we had no time to pick up, and we were both too weak to handle breakage of any sort.
Under normal circumstances I would simply stay in bed and run the show from there, one temper tantrum at a time. That morning, everything was different. I had been dethroned and could no longer claim a title that was taken away from me the moment this debilitating emotion began to plague my body.
When I finally got out of bed, my grandmother hugged me, and I felt her pain transfer onto my tiny body. Her embrace came with the worst feeling in the world, and I can only describe it as a dark sensation that began in my stomach and made its way through my chest, into my heart, pumping every ounce of positive energy out of me. My veins were infected too, and not too long before my brain received the message, at which point I knew there was no turning back. I could feel my pores begin to close up grasping for any last bit of air in the room.
Nothing was left, all had been polluted with an aura thicker than describable words can allow. I felt it, but I do not know if anyone else did. It felt like death, and my immediate reaction was to begin to cry.
February 18, 1993 was my last day in Peru.
My flight was set to depart for Ecuador at noon. “Ecuador?” I wondered to myself as I grabbed a bag containing my most valuable belongings: a Lego set, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figurines, and three American dimes that my great-grandmother Marina had given me after her visit to Disneyland some years before.
I also wondered why I was traveling into the United States with a family of unfamiliar faces, and why my identity was being stripped until, as I was told, I reached the Big Apple. More than anything, I wanted to know why I had to learn the information of a boy named Jonathan, when I just wanted to be myself and run back to bed with my grandmother.
The family that I had to pretend to be a part of for those two days was luckily… a good one. The patriarch, whom I referred to as my papa was a short, chubby man with a dark tan complexion, full lips, and curly black hair. The fact that I resembled him would make our story more believable. My mama was an extremely nice lady, and would hold my hand wherever necessary. She was particularly responsible for looking after me when we entered Ecuador and in places considered to be risky.
I still remember her expression as my excitement grew upon seeing the horizon in Ecuador, adorned with laborers and multitudes of people, and when I was told that there would be a swimming pool at the motel in Guayaquil. There were two more adults on the trip, but their roles were secondary the entire time. Additionally, there were a couple of other children as well, two girls and a boy, whom were all younger than I was.
I was a bit shy around everyone at first, and although I had been trained to know everyone’s name, favorite food, place of birth, and two details short of a life story, I felt utterly uncomfortable. Not that the family was in any form making me feel that way, but I was indeed traveling with a group of people whom I had only met once before, when I was given a haircut at their home, playing me up to resemble Jonathan a bit more.
Once we got to our motel, after a long walk in the scorching heat just south of the equator, I saw the pool, and immediately fell in love. Although I was not in my element, I loosened up a bit just knowing that for at least that night I would be in paradise or something close to it. The weather, even at night, was unbearable, so jumping into the water, which I had never done in the evening hours under the brilliant stars, was not refreshing at all. Thinking of the day ahead gave me an anxiety that knocked me out as soon as we got back to our room. My dreams that night were disturbed with utter fear, filled with nightmares so intense that I could not wake up from their powers.
The entire idea for this arrangement came from a previous method used by my father’s cousin to bring his five-year old daughter from Peru. My parents borrowed the idea and the family, relying solely on that family’s expertise in doing such jobs with other children. There was another younger girl a month after me who traveled the same way to be reunited with her family in New Jersey as well, and last I heard she was NYU-bound. Even though they had already gotten half of the overall payment for the job, the second half was to be surrendered once I was delivered to my parents at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City, and the process was finally complete. After over a year of waiting, this would all be over.
Although, I had been to downtown Lima to eat at the American chain restaurants with my abuelita and uncle Piero before, airplane food seemed like the truest form of luxury. Coca-cola never tasted sweeter, and the chicken was delicious. It was not only juicy and crispy in certain corners, but the presentation on the small aluminum plate was the cherry on top, making me melt.
The flight attendants were all very beautiful, and none of them looked like the people I knew. They were high-class looking Peruvians, and reminded me of Jimmy, who was the head of the operation in Lima, and the liaison between my real and pretend families. Jimmy was a white Peruvian with green eyes and dark blonde hair who wore aviator-style sunglasses, and drove a beautiful red SUV. Whenever my grandmother and I would ride in his truck, he would pull down a tiny little seat for me in the middle, and tell me that it was his daughter’s usual spot. Jimmy promised to keep in touch and that he would visit me in New Jersey from Miami to make ceviche, but he never did. I never saw him again.
The plane ride boiled my mixed emotions and my stomach was in knots from all of the nervous and anxious energy that had invaded every single one of the cells in my body. I knew that only a couple of hours later I would be reunited with her, a woman that had gone abroad in search of a better life six years prior, who was now working at a local packing factory on Getty Avenue in Paterson, New Jersey.
The minimum wage that she earned every other week would subsidize the expenses of a new family, with a one-year old daughter, Lucia Mia. These earnings would also add on to the factory wages of her boyfriend of 20 years, a person I had met as an infant, who became my father the day I stepped on American ground. My first memory of them together took place at the airport later that night.
I had no clue as to what to expect or what they looked like. I knew my mother had long black curly hair, big brown eyes, and a cute face. The only picture I had seen of him was after the car accident that caused him to break his nose, and in my mind made him look just like Jose Feliciano. In the distance, I could see over a hundred people lined up at a gate waiting for their own loved ones to arrive, some even holding up signs the way you see in movies. Due to my unique circumstance, and the fact that I was not Emanuel, but… Jonathan, there was no sign reading my name, but instead I saw two people behind a few dozen others jumping up and down joyfully waving their hats in the air. It was them.
I held my breath for the three minutes leading up to the big reunion, but once I saw her again, that old feeling came back and I knew how to perfectly fit into her arms without a rehearsal. She was even more beautiful than in pictures, and no description would do her justice.
The coast was not clear just yet, and a formal exchange needed to be made, bringing together the monetary balance and a form of identification to release the child at hand. My mother had left her purse in the car, so my pretend dad was apprehensive about releasing me without knowing that those were the right people claiming to be my parents. He was asking for papers, pictures, or anything else to verify their identity. I was too shocked to even say a word.
Luckily, my new father carried a picture of me in his wallet, posing in front of my school on the first day of the second grade. My pretend dad saw the picture and immediately knew that the deal had been officially sealed. I wonder what would have happened if my grandmother had not sent my father that picture.
I was pretty speechless in the car on our way home, just looking around at the new scenery. I was frightened by the events rapidly taking place, and the first thing I said to my mother was, “I feel like I’m in a dream.” “Do you want me to pinch you?” she asked. I just looked at her for a couple of seconds, and through a natural force kneew we fit together perfectly.
That same night I met my baby sister, Lucia Mia, who was only one-year-old. She had been running around with some other babies, and upon first glance I could not help but fall in love with her and her beauty. I knew who she was. I had seen her picture and knew she existed, but to witness her presence firsthand was surreal.
She on the other hand, had no idea who I was, and although she had been photographed next to my picture just a couple of months prior to my arrival, her thoughts were pretty basic and not focused on a seven-year-old Peruvian boy with nothing more than a backpack of belongings.”
***
If you know the story of your people’s origin, please share it with me here in the Fan Corner at Naima Mora Online. -Naima
The post Coming to America appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
Coming to America: One Daughter’s Story
This is a story written so beautifully, submitted by my fan Emanuel Anzules, so well-written and moving it needs no introduction from me. That we all came from somewhere is something we share; but we forget we also all share a story of origin where our relatives risked their lives to give us a better one. This story reminds us of how much we have in common though we may come from different ends of the world.
- Naima
“Coming To America” by Emanuel Anzules
“A couple of years ago my mother told me that she had never been so scared in her life when she made the arrangement for me to travel into the U.S. illegally using someone else’s identity. She knew that she was taking a risk. Risking getting caught, risking deportation, but as any other mother would be, concerned with risking my well-being.
In the early nineties this exchange was first becoming popular, and it was perhaps one of the only ways for anyone to migrate to the states without the proper documentation. The coyotes would charge a large lump sum, down payment and all, to have family members brought to America.
Emanuel Anzules
These smugglers promised the seamless trafficking of individuals of all ages, and would collect the money even if things went sour. Unfortunately for the family members, they would never recuperate the money they had initially frontloaded, and oftentimes the coyotes disappeared, never to be seen again.
My mother paid nearly five thousand dollars and waited approximately a year for “Operation: Emanuel to America” to take place. I never had any desire to travel outside of my bubble in La Victoria, a slum right in the center of the Peruvian capital, but if given the opportunity, I would not resist. I would have to leave behind all that I knew, all that I loved, but most importantly, I would have to leave the old Emanuel and begin a new life in search of the Emanuel that would last a lifetime.
“Amor Eterno” was playing in the background as I looked around the room upon first opening my eyes that morning. As Rocio Durcal poured her heart out with each lyric, I began to feel more and more cemented to the bed, not wanting to get up, hoping that the song would last forever.
“Please keep singing, don’t stop Rocio, whatever you do…don’t stop!” I thought to myself, realizing that the song would indeed come to an end. I knew my grandmother felt no differently. I could not even look at her because I knew that the feeling would be too strong to handle. Looking at her would break me into a million pieces that we had no time to pick up, and we were both too weak to handle breakage of any sort.
Under normal circumstances I would simply stay in bed and run the show from there, one temper tantrum at a time. That morning, everything was different. I had been dethroned and could no longer claim a title that was taken away from me the moment this debilitating emotion began to plague my body.
When I finally got out of bed, my grandmother hugged me, and I felt her pain transfer onto my tiny body. Her embrace came with the worst feeling in the world, and I can only describe it as a dark sensation that began in my stomach and made its way through my chest, into my heart, pumping every ounce of positive energy out of me. My veins were infected too, and not too long before my brain received the message, at which point I knew there was no turning back. I could feel my pores begin to close up grasping for any last bit of air in the room.
Nothing was left, all had been polluted with an aura thicker than describable words can allow. I felt it, but I do not know if anyone else did. It felt like death, and my immediate reaction was to begin to cry.
February 18, 1993 was my last day in Peru.
My flight was set to depart for Ecuador at noon. “Ecuador?” I wondered to myself as I grabbed a bag containing my most valuable belongings: a Lego set, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figurines, and three American dimes that my great-grandmother Marina had given me after her visit to Disneyland some years before.
I also wondered why I was traveling into the United States with a family of unfamiliar faces, and why my identity was being stripped until, as I was told, I reached the Big Apple. More than anything, I wanted to know why I had to learn the information of a boy named Jonathan, when I just wanted to be myself and run back to bed with my grandmother.
The family that I had to pretend to be a part of for those two days was luckily… a good one. The patriarch, whom I referred to as my papa was a short, chubby man with a dark tan complexion, full lips, and curly black hair. The fact that I resembled him would make our story more believable. My mama was an extremely nice lady, and would hold my hand wherever necessary. She was particularly responsible for looking after me when we entered Ecuador and in places considered to be risky.
I still remember her expression as my excitement grew upon seeing the horizon in Ecuador, adorned with laborers and multitudes of people, and when I was told that there would be a swimming pool at the motel in Guayaquil. There were two more adults on the trip, but their roles were secondary the entire time. Additionally, there were a couple of other children as well, two girls and a boy, whom were all younger than I was.
I was a bit shy around everyone at first, and although I had been trained to know everyone’s name, favorite food, place of birth, and two details short of a life story, I felt utterly uncomfortable. Not that the family was in any form making me feel that way, but I was indeed traveling with a group of people whom I had only met once before, when I was given a haircut at their home, playing me up to resemble Jonathan a bit more.
Once we got to our motel, after a long walk in the scorching heat just south of the equator, I saw the pool, and immediately fell in love. Although I was not in my element, I loosened up a bit just knowing that for at least that night I would be in paradise or something close to it. The weather, even at night, was unbearable, so jumping into the water, which I had never done in the evening hours under the brilliant stars, was not refreshing at all. Thinking of the day ahead gave me an anxiety that knocked me out as soon as we got back to our room. My dreams that night were disturbed with utter fear, filled with nightmares so intense that I could not wake up from their powers.
The entire idea for this arrangement came from a previous method used by my father’s cousin to bring his five-year old daughter from Peru. My parents borrowed the idea and the family, relying solely on that family’s expertise in doing such jobs with other children. There was another younger girl a month after me who traveled the same way to be reunited with her family in New Jersey as well, and last I heard she was NYU-bound. Even though they had already gotten half of the overall payment for the job, the second half was to be surrendered once I was delivered to my parents at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City, and the process was finally complete. After over a year of waiting, this would all be over.
Although, I had been to downtown Lima to eat at the American chain restaurants with my abuelita and uncle Piero before, airplane food seemed like the truest form of luxury. Coca-cola never tasted sweeter, and the chicken was delicious. It was not only juicy and crispy in certain corners, but the presentation on the small aluminum plate was the cherry on top, making me melt.
The flight attendants were all very beautiful, and none of them looked like the people I knew. They were high-class looking Peruvians, and reminded me of Jimmy, who was the head of the operation in Lima, and the liaison between my real and pretend families. Jimmy was a white Peruvian with green eyes and dark blonde hair who wore aviator-style sunglasses, and drove a beautiful red SUV. Whenever my grandmother and I would ride in his truck, he would pull down a tiny little seat for me in the middle, and tell me that it was his daughter’s usual spot. Jimmy promised to keep in touch and that he would visit me in New Jersey from Miami to make ceviche, but he never did. I never saw him again.
The plane ride boiled my mixed emotions and my stomach was in knots from all of the nervous and anxious energy that had invaded every single one of the cells in my body. I knew that only a couple of hours later I would be reunited with her, a woman that had gone abroad in search of a better life six years prior, who was now working at a local packing factory on Getty Avenue in Paterson, New Jersey.
The minimum wage that she earned every other week would subsidize the expenses of a new family, with a one-year old daughter, Lucia Mia. These earnings would also add on to the factory wages of her boyfriend of 20 years, a person I had met as an infant, who became my father the day I stepped on American ground. My first memory of them together took place at the airport later that night.
I had no clue as to what to expect or what they looked like. I knew my mother had long black curly hair, big brown eyes, and a cute face. The only picture I had seen of him was after the car accident that caused him to break his nose, and in my mind made him look just like Jose Feliciano. In the distance, I could see over a hundred people lined up at a gate waiting for their own loved ones to arrive, some even holding up signs the way you see in movies. Due to my unique circumstance, and the fact that I was not Emanuel, but… Jonathan, there was no sign reading my name, but instead I saw two people behind a few dozen others jumping up and down joyfully waving their hats in the air. It was them.
I held my breath for the three minutes leading up to the big reunion, but once I saw her again, that old feeling came back and I knew how to perfectly fit into her arms without a rehearsal. She was even more beautiful than in pictures, and no description would do her justice.
The coast was not clear just yet, and a formal exchange needed to be made, bringing together the monetary balance and a form of identification to release the child at hand. My mother had left her purse in the car, so my pretend dad was apprehensive about releasing me without knowing that those were the right people claiming to be my parents. He was asking for papers, pictures, or anything else to verify their identity. I was too shocked to even say a word.
Luckily, my new father carried a picture of me in his wallet, posing in front of my school on the first day of the second grade. My pretend dad saw the picture and immediately knew that the deal had been officially sealed. I wonder what would have happened if my grandmother had not sent my father that picture.
I was pretty speechless in the car on our way home, just looking around at the new scenery. I was frightened by the events rapidly taking place, and the first thing I said to my mother was, “I feel like I’m in a dream.” “Do you want me to pinch you?” she asked. I just looked at her for a couple of seconds, and through a natural force kneew we fit together perfectly.
That same night I met my baby sister, Lucia Mia, who was only one-year-old. She had been running around with some other babies, and upon first glance I could not help but fall in love with her and her beauty. I knew who she was. I had seen her picture and knew she existed, but to witness her presence firsthand was surreal.
She on the other hand, had no idea who I was, and although she had been photographed next to my picture just a couple of months prior to my arrival, her thoughts were pretty basic and not focused on a seven-year-old Peruvian boy with nothing more than a backpack of belongings.”
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If you know the story of your people’s origin, please share it with me here in the Fan Corner at Naima Mora Online. -Naima
The post Coming to America: One Daughter’s Story appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
Freedom
Freedom is something we can’t take for granted. I wrote the following column before Emanuel Anzules submitted her tale of what it was like to come to America illegally with her mother from Peru so many years ago. It made the idea of allowing yourself to be free, to be who you are so much more real. In the New Year I hope you will pursue all the avenues you have to fully experience and express your freedoms if you have them. They are so very precious.
-Naima
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I live to love and be free. I always dance like nobody’s watching- often times embarrassing my niece or my boyfriend. I don’t care though. In the grocery store, in the line at the burger place, at a friend’s house party I dance like there’s nobody watching. I can’t have fun and be afraid that someone will judge me for doing so.
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“Me in Napa Valley having lunch with friends. A quick little impromptu self portrait with a flower.” – Naima Mora
I always love like I’ll never be hurt, even though I know I probably will. People make mistakes and in the process hurt those closest to them, the ones who love them the most.
I cannot allow my heart to be stifled and choose not to love because this inevitably will happen. We can forgive, learn and move on. The amazing thing about love is that there is an endless amount of it right here in our hearts.
I always sing like there’s nobody listening- a wonderful trait I learned from my darling mother! She like me, is a vocalist. A way that we express ourselves is through song. Most people do. I love singing. I love the feeling it gives me. I sing with all my heart and I am not afraid of allowing the world to hear me. Everyone has a voice! Everyone deserves to use it.
More than anything I always live like it’s heaven on earth. Each day is an amazing gift given to me and I appreciate that. All things were created perfectly. I try to admire the design of a flower, the laughter of my sister, the asymmetry of my face or the paintings created by the sunset.
I live to love and to be free. Not everyone can. We need to value and embrace freedom wherever and whenever it comes, and we need to promote it for those who do not yet possess the gift of what it means to truly be free.
Happy New Year friends!
-Naima
The post Freedom appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
December 25, 2012
Wisdom
Always collecting Vinyl. Billy Cobham’s Spectrum is one of my favorites!
“If each person of the world strives to live their lives to the fullest, with compassion and good will, we can gather the wisdom we need to live together harmoniously.” – Naima
I remember when I was growing up we had one small TV in our house (can’t help but think I’m getting older when I hear myself say things like that). It was in the living room and had two long antennas that came jutting out the top. Eventually they fell off. One antenna was still used for TV reception.
Either my twin sister or I would have to stand holding it close to the window while my father was watching Star Trek or Dr. Who. The other antenna was used as a pointer of sorts for the small chalkboard we had. Nia and I would use it while we were playing ‘School,’ instructing our stuffed animals simple mathematics.
Twenty years later and I have a large wall mounted flat screen TV with cable, wireless internet and a cell phone that has the capability of being a computer, TV and personal entertainment system all rolled into one small device. I’m so glad those days of hold the antenna for half-an-hour close to the window are far behind me. Needless to say, technology and science advance quickly at an exponential rate.
People and society advance as well, but perhaps not exponentially. From what I have witnessed, people and society are still dealing with the same issues since recorded history began – issues such as power over other men, and greed, which inevitably leads to war, famine and disease. Technology can allow us to actually resolve famine and disease. Only a great shift in the hearts of men, however, will lead to resolving the issue of war.
I have never thought that money is a problem. Money is a fascinating concept and tool that allows us to live and work together. It allows us to trade directly and indirectly for specific goods and services we need individually. What corrupts money is greed and ill intention.
If each person of the world strives to live their lives to the fullest, with compassion and good will, we can gather the wisdom we need to live together harmoniously. The choice of doing this in itself becomes a source of inspiration and encouragement.
There are hundreds (if not thousands) of people around the world acting every day in hope of changing the world for the better. If each person does a little, the reward can be enormous!
How are you being wise in the world?
The post Wisdom appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
December 19, 2012
Balancing Career and Motherhood
My good friend Salama McGrier had this wonderful article written about her as a career woman and mother – below is her quote from Facebook and links to the article. I thought it was appropriate this holiday season to remember our dreams. - Naima
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Salama McGrier
“I am truly fortunate and so proud of this article. It is confirmation of the importance of determination, discipline, drive, and never, ever, ever, no matter what give up on your dreams!! Our dreams are truly with in our arms reach, but only we, must reach for them!! I truly hope and intend with all of my heart that this article will inspire, re-inspire, encourage, re-encourage and always be a source of inspiration, re-inspiration, encouragement and re-encouragement for not only mothers or artist but for all people alike and non alike! Because everyone has dreams..;-) Please pass this on.
Thank you Jahan Mantin and CultureFphiles for your selecting me to be part of such an amazing movement in our world! Your Online Magazine is more than just an “Online Magazine”…….. It is a much needed resource and of inspiring content…and only the tip of the iceberg of an ever-growing vital global artist community!! Thank you and enjoy, Salama McGrier
Also a gigantic thanks to Tom Tumminello, for such amazing and beautiful pictures. Your work is the best! And unbelievably at such short notice and a seemingly impossible deadline.”
Nurturing Your Child and Your Creative Career: Some Tips From a Mom to Moms
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What Lies Within
A fan and I at PinkSoles fundraiser, 2012. Finding our inner woman!
Everything begins with a thought. Whether inspired by a succession of events, smelling jasmine on the breeze, being embraced by a friend, listening to our favorite song over and over again, or the smile of a passing stranger; everything begins with a thought.
Our thoughts can become dreams, our aspirations. We fantasize about them being real and place ourselves in hypothetical circumstances where we actually accomplish these dreams. It feels good, but it is nostalgic. It feels almost real in the forefront of our minds, but distant in the future. What is miraculous about this is that the future becomes the present in the matter of a second.
At any moment of any day, we can begin to manifest our dreams into a reality. It takes hard work, and hope and belief that we can actually accomplish these aspirations. Day in and day out, fighting the good fight to follow our dreams makes us strong and well-versed.
In the exact moment we choose to act, our effort begins the realization of our dreams. It is hard to see this right away, but over time we can. It’s like a dot painting. When you are very close to it, you cannot really see the grand scheme. But when you step back and look at it from afar, putting all the little dots in a visual order, you can see the whole picture for the beauty that it is.
Before we know it, all our hard work and effort done in the present become the past, and we are suddenly living in the reality of the future we envisioned.
What are you manifesting? Share your story about that with me here in my Fan Corner.
The post What Lies Within appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
December 12, 2012
Feed Your Face: 10 Foods for Better Skin
You Are What You Eat, and I touch on this in “Model Behavior.” Here is a great article about 10 foods for better skin by Jennifer Greunemay (ACE-Certified) with super tips for maintaining healthy skin.
You can’t just shove junk food in your face and expect to have smooth, supple skin. But swap those cheese puffs for a cup of cottage cheese and you’ll get glowing results. Read on for 10 nourishing foods…
When it comes to your health, the outside reflects the inside. A dull, dry complexion is a blinking neon sign that you’re not eating right.
Lucky for you, you can put your best face forward with a better diet. Here’s how:
Face Food #1: Avocados
This creamy, green fruit is abundant in essential oils and B-complex vitamins that nourish your skin, inside and out.
Niacin (vitamin B3) is especially important for healthy skin, and avocados contain lots of it. Niacin, an anti-inflammatory, soothes irritated skin and red, blotchy skin. One avocado has 3.8 mg niacin – 27% of your daily need.
Blend half an avocado with yogurt and frozen berries to make a creamy, nutty-flavored morning smoothie. Or try this Avocado Ice Cream recipe.
And keep reading for an avocado face-mask recipe that will solve your dry skin problems instantly.
For more dry skin solutions, click here.
Face Food #2: Mangoes
Mangoes have more than 80% of your daily requirements for vitamin A, which is why they’re such a great face food. Vitamin A maintains and repairs skin cells; a deficiency will result in a dry, flaky complexion.
As an antioxidant, vitamin A also fights free radical damage that can prematurely age the skin. And with fewer than 70 calories per serving, this succulent fruit is the perfect pick for your figure, not just your face.
Check out this Mango-Chile Chutney.
Face Food #3: Almonds
Not only is it a gorgeous shape for your eyes, almonds are also great for your complexion. With 150% of your daily need for vitamin E, it’s no wonder that getting a bit nutty is good for you.
Vitamin E’s rich oils moisturize dry skin, and its antioxidants protect against skin damage and premature aging.
Reach for a handful of these Spiced Spanish Almonds.
Face Food #4: Cottage Cheese
Dairy is good for your bones and face. But it’s the selenium in cottage cheese, not the calcium, that makes us wild for the creamy curds.
Selenium, an essential mineral, teams up with vitamin E as a powerful free radical-fighting antioxidant duo. Plus, it’ll protect against skin cancer and fight dandruff.
Get your cottage cheese fill in this Baked Mac & Cheese.
Face Food #5: Acerola Cherries
Your average cherry doesn’t supply a lot of vitamin C, but that’s not true for Acerolas. One of these cherries supplies 100% of your daily allowance for vitamin C, which is great news for your skin.
Use Acerolas in these Chocolate-Cherry Cupcakes.
Face Food #6: Oysters
Whether they’re an aphrodisiac or not, oysters are a love fest for skin. They fight pimples because they’re rich in zinc.
The mineral affects sebum production, a deficiency may contribute to acne.
Zinc also helps boost elastin (the skin’s elastic protein) production with the help of vitamin C.
Face Food #7: Baked Potatoes
Set aside the greasy French fries.
A plump, steaming baked potato is good for your skin.
Eat one baked potato (with the skin) to get 75% of your daily copper need.
This essential mineral works with vitamin C and zinc to produce the elastin fibers that support skin structure.
Too little copper in your diet can reduce your skin’s ability to heal and cause it to become rigid and lifeless.
Get your copper in these Loaded Twice-Baked Potatoes.
Face Food #8: Mushrooms
This fungus isn’t just for soup; it’s rich in riboflavin, a B vitamin that’s vital to your skin.
Riboflavin (vitamin B2) is involved in tissue maintenance and repair, and improves skin blemishes caused by rosacea.
This vitamin is so important for skin repair that the body uses large amounts after sustaining a burn or wound, or undergoing surgery.
Try these Garlic-Rosemary Mushrooms.
Face Food #9: Flaxseed Oil
It’s no secret that omega 3s are great for your skin, but did you know that flaxseed oil is one of the best sources of this essential fatty acid? That’s great news if you’re not a fish-lover.
Check out this Orange-Miso Sauce.
Just one teaspoon of flaxseed oil per day provides 2.5 grams of omega 3s, which, in turn, hydrate the skin. Essential fatty acids also dilute sebum and unclog pores that otherwise leads to acne.
Face Food #10: Wheat Germ
Don’t let the “germ” scare you – it’s actually just the embryo within a grain of wheat, and it’s nutritious. Wheat germ is a good source of biotin, a B vitamin that’s crucial to skin health.
A mild biotin deficiency can cause dermatitis, a condition characterized by itchy, scaly skin.
Sprinkle wheat germ on yogurt for a tasty way to get more biotin in your diet.
Or try these Apricot-Wheat Germ Muffins.
Slather It On!
You don’t have to eat these 10 foods to nourish your complexion.
Some make for great facial masks too.
Try this avocado mask to instantly moisturize your skin:
1. Mash one whole avocado.
2. Add 1 teaspoon flaxseed oil and 1 teaspoon honey.
3. Mix together until smooth and creamy.
4. Apply to face and let sit for 15-20 minutes.
5. Rinse clean with warm water.
Take care of your skin by eating right and having fun with your food. Drink plenty of water and exercise daily to flush out toxins.
And don’t put toxins right back in your body! Smoking damages healthy skin and makes it more prone to wrinkles and an ashen, gray color – not pretty.
Finally, always wear sunscreen, especially on your face, whether it’s sunny or cloudy. Buy a face moisturizer that contains at least 15 SPF. Or wear a hat that provides shade.
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What is your skin regimen? Tell us by submitting a stry about it here.
Information and statements provided by the site about dietary supplements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration and are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Lifescript does not recommend or endorse any specific tests, physicians , third-party products, procedures, opinions, or other information mentioned on the Site. Reliance on any information provided by Lifescript is solely at your own risk.
For more information visit the article site for Jennifer Greunemay (ACE-Certified)
The post Feed Your Face: 10 Foods for Better Skin appeared first on Naima Mora Online.
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