Lily Java's Blog
January 2, 2022
Living Through The Epiphanies
New year. New word. For those just joining the audience, for the last three years I’ve eschewed resolutions. Instead, I go for the minimal acknowledgement that it’s time to look ahead at where I want to be this time next year. So…I choose but I try to choose decisively.
Only one word is required to remind myself what I need and wish for myself during the year. A reminder that keeps me on point and driven towards my ultimate goals.
In 2021, my word was thrive. 2020 wrecked me and a lot of other people I might add. It was an endless primal scream, often with no sound coming out and frankly 2021, didn’t seem like it would offer much in the way of a quick relief. I needed a word that would help me survive and remind me of what was important. Thrive did that because it told me to adopt self care whenever possible. I had to Maya Angelou my life. Bloom abundantly wherever, and however the fuck, I was planted. Find my happy even if it’s on the smallest terms. Notice and give thanks for all my blessings of which, there are many.
In everyday ways, it meant don’t watch the news and listen to or read it a lot less. Lean into those monthly mani pedis, the one gluttonous ablution I’ll outsource and pay for. And yes, throw in the 15 minute massage and the lavender gel too, please and thank you very much. Go to your oldest friend, the beach, and tell her your secrets. Let her rage at you about how ungrateful we humans are. Limit my social media interactions because however wonderful and good I sincerely think it often is; it is also like self medicating poison, the bane of our current existence. Take care of your eyes and read for joy not obligation, which meant reading much less than usual. Write for me, not everyone else. You may publish less or not at all, but you will begin to know who you are as a writer. Continue to do the things you know you must. Live. Laugh. Love. Stay safe and don’t take crap from a.n.y.b.o.d.y.
All in all, thrive worked for me. The dark depression I was mired in feeling at the end of 2020 began to melt away and something unexpected happened. Others began to see me…for real. And it was a bit of a revelation for them but also for me. That’s the one good and consistent thing about truth. It usually reveals itself. By fall, I felt rejuvenated and a bit surprised at how many doors were opening for me. There were literally options and choices, everywhere. It was both disconcerting and exciting. I had new job opportunities, new story ideas, new or revived friendships, a damn ton of stuff to read and of course, all of it would require a lot of hard work to stay on top of. There was drama too. Toxic relationships are never very far away. They lie in wait for you to pick up, cradle and soothe like the colicky baby you didn’t actually give birth to. A friend describes those parts of my life as “Shakespearean”. She ain’t wrong. It was also clear I had a lot of decisions to make.
By the time December rolled around I hadn’t chosen my word for 2022 but I had some definite ideas about what I hoped this year would bring about for me. Great changes were already afoot. I wanted to be ready for them. I was thinking and dreaming almost religiously about forward momentum and leaping into this 2022 with all the hopeful joie de vivre I’d been slowly manifesting in my heart all year long.
By the time Xmas was approaching things took a surprising turn. This triple vaxed, mask wearing, hand washing, damn near misanthropist got COVID just as I was beginning my holiday vacation. And it was let me tell you the VERY, freakin’ symptomatic kind.
I honestly believe there are teachable moments everywhere if you look for them but for a couple of days this one eluded me. I hadn’t had a cold in nearly two years. Except for cat allergies, eye strain, occasional back pain from endless sitting, and a case of seafood poisoning (yeah the beach wasn’t the only one raging that April weekend), I hadn’t been sick at all since early 2020. And if that weren’t enough, I had to turn down drinking jungle-birds with a good friend who I love to laugh with, Beef Wellington for Christmas dinner at another dear friend’s beautiful home with other friends that included my daughter and her monsieur, and I kid you not, an all expense paid trip to Mexico for the holidays with friends I love. Please Goddess tell me what in the heck was I supposed to learn from this crappy scenario?
Eventually I figured it out. And like Jacinta Howard often does so well, I’ll attempt to number my epiphanies.
1. I’d been working very hard at my day job this year and desperately needed this Christmas holiday for me. In the end, since the job was also likely where Rona had snuck into my system, I’d probably been working much too hard and I really do need tangible reminders to stop doing that shit.
2. Renew your passport now you idiot. I might have been fully recovered by the time I was supposed to go to Mexico but because I was stupid sick I had to stay home and forgo doing the Jedi mind tricks required to get a last minute emergency passport renewal.
3. Despite the powers of the British crime drama deities I worship, after 5 days of isolation and a shit ton of DayQuil, Christmas Day was probably the most depressed I’d been all year. I would later describe it as the 2nd worst Xmas I’ve ever had in my life. Yet, even then I could see the blessing of my warm, WiFi-ed home with deliverables and my cats, a relatively delightful place to be sick; and my friends who checked in daily, some even sending food and elixirs that will burn off your troublesome nose hair in a mad hunt for congestion as veritable godsends; and my kid who told her mom she missed her and meant it even though we were only a floor apart as my hope for the future. These blessings of course led me to think about the worse Xmas I’d ever had in an entirely different and loving light.
Nothing like a reset to put it all in perspective, huh?
Consequently, my personal word to remember for 2022 is going to be reset. The word genuinely means to set again or adjust or fix in a new or different way. But I prefer looking at this word’s synonyms for clarity: reconstituted, reconstructed, amended, corrected, improved, rectified, regenerated, renewed, revised, revolutionized, reworked, reestablished, reorganized, rebooted, and my personal favorite of all, transformed.
Since it’s clear we live in interesting times my friends, I’m expecting another interesting year. I’m also beginning to think I’m ready for it. How about you?
April 10, 2021
Three Point Saturday: 4.10.21
Touchpoint 1.
I’ve started doing crossword puzzles again. In The New Yorker of all places. It’s a big deal for me because my late husband used to dominate all the crossword puzzles that came within an inch of the house. I’m a bit of a word nerd and so was he. It seemed like a small favor to let him have them since he went out to buy the papers every day. But apparently, I missed the practice. Doing them now after so many years of loving self-sacrifice seemed somewhat empowering. Even more bizarre? It felt like self-care. Could this be another way to stimulate brain power? Dr. Sanjay Gupta put a pin in that hopeful balloon thought, in the O interview about his most recent book, Keep Sharp: Build A Better Brain At Any Age. He says that if you really want to retread those neurological pathways and keep your brain in tip top shape you have to do something a little more physical or mentally challenging like learn a new language or go do some outdoor power walking, for goodness sakes. C’est la vie, je vais au marché.
Touchpoint 2.
They’ve released a song as a teaser from Prince’s new twelve track album called Welcome2America. The album of the same name doesn’t drop until July but this release gives us a tantalizing opportunity to remember how much we miss having Prince set the musical themes for our funk. The song has a recognizable seventies twang with a jazzy undertone. There’s a heavenly and harmonious female Greek chorus who practically doo wop background vocals while offering occasional political commentary that sounds like news headlines from a few days gone by. And the Man himself delivers his lyrics like it’s tonal def poetry. It is oddly anachronistic at times like when he quotes George Bush, (that’s #1 not the still living #2) or offers rebukes of technology and sex tapes. After all, those are so last year or what may now be forever known as pre-pandemic, isn’t it? However, to his credit Prince can point out the obvious or old and still be voguish. That’s why I’m waiting for the rest of whatever he created in the album vault with bated breath and so are you.
Touchpoint 3.
My friend who I like to call Darth Voda, cause Voda really is his last name and because the force is always with him especially when it comes to brand new trends or products. He’s always the first person I know to have something I had no idea I wanted. You know, like a light saber. This time he surprised me a few weeks ago by texting that he just finished (and loved) a book I’d been waiting to be released. “How did you get this?’ I asked, after seeing a pic of his copy (I confess I wrote it more like an interrogation text than a simple question). Book of the Month Club, he texted back cheerfully. And maannn that really brought me way back. My mom once gave me a year’s subscription to BOTM for my birthday ages ago. I was probably just past double digits, which was around the time she realized nothing could come between me and fiction. I subscribed to BOTM two or three more times over the years — always giving it up because the choices weren’t interesting enough and besides bookstores are one of my top three places to have an artist’s date in the world. Now though since I’m buying hardcover books again I also know $9.99 is a bargain for a newly released book and like Audible you get credits for freebies too. So I signed up and started with the book that my friend texted me about,The Final Revival of Opal and Nev, by Dawnie Walton, which I’m reading now and loving. And however long I keep the subscription that perhaps is what’s best of all about the new (yet, very old) BOTM. Multi-cultural authors are all the rage. Even there. Not nearly as vogue as Prince just yet, but we got time. Don’t we?
March 27, 2021
Three TouchPoint Saturday
TouchPoint 1.
One of my writing goals is not to marginalize my sense of humor in my writing. I don’t want to appear flaky but laughter and finding the facetious in everyday life is important to me. It keeps me upbeat in what is, even on good days, a bit of a shit show.
I’m really fond of finding humor in places where it isn’t expected like crime dramas. And that brings me to what I stumbled on last night. A bizarre little film called Cold Pursuit. Out in 2019, this movie is relatively new but I don’t believe it was widely seen. Right before release an unfortunate interview was given by its star Liam Neeson where he told a story of how a friend of his was raped by a Black man which caused him to go out trolling with a weapon hoping to find any old Black guy to tune up in place of his friend’s attacker. Labelled a racist, instead of a stupid racist, Liam was cancelled for a while. Culturally cancelled, that is. I’d always liked Liam before that interview. Something about that lumbering brogue of a man had always come across as sincere — especially as an actor. I also felt sorry for him. The tragic and unexpected death of his wife, actress Natasha Richardson, seemed to change him into a movie making machine. He was often called on to be violent in his roles and he always seem more than capable of the job. He also always seemed protective of the women he played opposite, except notably when he played a cameo as a bad guy in Widows opposite Viola Davis. But I digress. I used to watch Liam Neeson movies before that interview but I stopped and therefore missed Cold Pursuit when it came out. Sad, really. After seeing it I’m sorry I didn’t sooner because it’s a good flick and worth the 90+minutes. Excellent quirky and ironic writing plus exceptionally cool setting and cast, made it a stand out. An unabashed macabre revenge story, it is violent. Not always graphically, in fact, the film makes a point of not always giving you the blood and guts. Instead it often offers a promise of violence. Suspense-fully so. Once or twice, I found myself leaving the room briefly just because I thought I knew what was coming better than (or as well as) the characters and I couldn’t bear to watch it pan out. I was usually surprised at how much it didn’t go the way I expected. The most unexpected thing about the film is how funny it is. I mean I laughed out loud several times and it always surprised me given the grimness of the subject. After seeing the film, I now understand why Liam would tell that revealing story about himself while talking about this particular movie. Revenge isn’t always sweet at all. Many times it’s just foolish and embarrassing.
PS — Some of my other favorite and unexpectedly funny crime dramas films: Blood Simple, Love and Action in Chicago, Lucky Slevin,True Romance, and almost anything with Bruce Willis. There are probably more that you can name, so please do in the comments. I may have seen it but there’s a chance I haven’t and want to. Also something new and worthy in this category of fun crime drama that’s a streaming episodic isThe Flight Attendant on HBO.
I’m not a nail polish kind of girl by and large. But on my birthday vacay last month Ms. Z and I got long, LONG overdue mani/pedis. Maaaan, my feet were so happy with me. Rather than going for the same color on my uppers and lowers I went for a stark contrast. I liked it so much that I might do what I usually do when I like something. Keep doing it for the foreseeable future. For my fingernails I did a nude cream color but not just any nude. A nude as close to a pale brownish version of my own skin tone as I could find. For my toes, I went with Meghan Markle Black. Weirdly the combo seems to go with most things but I’ll let you know if I still feel that way during the summer months. Ms. Z even liked it and since she is my worse critic when it comes to fashion, I’m assuming if it works for her it will work for anybody. Orly the vegan nail polish brand has two particular colors in these nudes I’m loving, unfortunately called ‘Prince Charming’ and ‘Country Club’. If you can get past the names give them a try. They also have cool monthly birthstone colors which make good gifts.
Speaking of gifts, I know millennials and the post-millennial alphabet generations are supposedly so disdainful of the world these days they’re not interested in getting married or having babies. However, that would not be the case in my immediate friend group. For the record, I know a lot more people who have decided to use this dystopian era where even going to the supermarket is risking your life, as a time to go for the more uplifting expedient approach by saying life is short, so we better go for broke while we can. Consequently I’ve been doing a lot of shopping lately for soon to be mamas and brides/grooms to be. Registries are WONDERFULLY helpful in this regard, so if you can, don’t be cavalier about getting gifts. Please help a friend or relative out by doing the darn registry. Having said that I occasionally like to break trends. It’s almost never on the registry but I love giving books to babies cause I remember how much Ms. Z loved it when I read to her as a infant. Board books are best for this activity because they make good teething utensils as well as entertainment. Another book I like to give new parents is Baby Massage The Calming Power of Touch by Dr. Alan Heath and Nicki Bainbridge. Ms. Z starting sleeping through the night at six weeks old and I do not attribute it to my Zen parenting or singing skills. Trust and believe, there’s nothing better to calm and bond with a baby then learning how to soothe by touch. If you can find some organic grapeseed or almond oil send it too. The parents will thank you! Meanwhile I have to figure out a good book for the newly married. Any suggestions?
That’s all for now friends. Have a positive and memorable week.
August 2, 2020
Researching Safety by the Numbers
My late husband didn’t like cars so even though we traveled extensively, we never drove anywhere. I learned how to drive and probably could have made more of an effort to, but I had at least two good reasons for not doing it. One, I live in New York City where you honest to goodness don’t need a car. I mean like, at all. Two, if I had a car, I might just disappear.
That sounds a little mysterious doesn’t it? I’m serious though. I have never heard a word that describes one of the primary elements of my personality better than wanderlust. Going somewhere with no other game plan but the desire to go appeals to me on every level. If I were a criminal I’m definitely the type who would fake her own death and wind up in shades on the white sandy beach of an exotic isle drinking some icy fuchsia concoction.
My husband liked having a wife and consequently didn’t mind at all that I didn’t have a getaway vehicle.
That’s the biggest problem with disappearing I’ve found. Attachments. Whether it’s people, pets, children, homes, responsibilities there’s always something that can tether you to a particular place or state of being. Staying home now in these strange times has collectively made us feel those attachments all the more strongly.
Lately though for the first time in a long time I’m feeling decidedly unattached and thinking about buying a car I’ll need a license for. All I need is a place to go that I’ll feel safe and harmonious with my surroundings. Not so easy in America 2020.
My first real perceptions about the United States of America were built on the Civil Rights Movement. I learned early that racism and economic disparities were global but being from New York I also was taught about Emmitt Till and that I should fear going south in this country. Racism and poverty in New York was marginally safer.
With age and education my perceptions changed of course. The pervasiveness of reality TV in part taught me that living in New York is like living in a bubble of diversity and overt liberalism. That’s not as much fun or freeing as it sounds. When you live in a bubble the downside is there’s always a chance that someone outside the bubble might stick a metaphorical pin in it.
Also I rarely say this out loud or in writing, but New York isn’t perfect. There are a lot of people, there’s probably not enough spaciousness for those who crave it, and it’s expensive. Still, as a Black woman who mostly lives alone, in NYC I feel both creative stimulation and safe.
I was reminded of this when a friend recently posted in my favorite FB group a request for vacation recommendations in a particular area of the country that would feel safe for a Black woman traveling alone with children. That led to someone making another duplicate post with a similar request but in a different area of the country. I wish I could say I was surprised by these requests. If anything I felt a little sorrow about the thoroughly understandable cautiousness. Particularly because it once again reminded me of something I myself have been doing for the last three years.
Ever since it became clear Ms. Z would be graduating from college I’ve been considering selling out, packing up and moving out of my city. Sometimes I think I want to be somewhere cheaper or sometimes I think it needs to be somewhere with less people. Sometimes I just want to be even closer to a large body of water or a pristine forest than I already am. But there came a day where my priorities in finding a new place to live changed.
I was talking to Ms. Z and I made a joke about buying a house and moving out to Wyoming. Wyoming for me being the equivalent of the middle of fucking nowhere. Also Wyoming only sounded appealing to my introvert’s heart because I remembered someone explaining that it was the one state that literally had the most square footage between human bodies. Don’t believe me? Think back over the last few months. Exactly how many times have you heard on the news about an overrun of Covid cases or a problem social distancing in Wyoming?
My daughter being the deliciously sour dill pickle that she is had an immediate response to my declaration. “Are there any Black people in Wyoming?” Hmm… My musing about that question might have ended there except then we went to dinner at my mother-in-law’s a week later and Ms. Z outed my absurd fantasy about living in Wyoming to her Irish grandmother, who also had an immediate response. “Are there any Black people in Wyoming?”
Never one to put off an opportunity for procrastination I started doing my research. Where are all the Black people in America? Turns out the place that I actually fantasized about moving to for real, Montana, (What can I say? I’m not a cowgirl but I do like horses and wide open spaces.) has a lot in common with the potential fantasy home I joked about, Wyoming. Both states according to the 2010 census has a 1% Black population. For the record that measures somewhere between four and five thousand Black Americans in each state. Now I’ve been the only Black person at a party, that wasn’t serving something, several times but imagine feeling that way in a whole state. What the heck must that be like?
Thinking about it put off my new home hunting for a year because that same census told me that while New York’s Black population may only be 15% of it’s overall population there are still over 3 million Black Americans in my state. That means there are literally more people who look like me in this state than any other state in the country. No wonder I feel safe. And no wonder, so often people who don’t live here have a knee-jerk snarky remark at the ready when talking about New York.
There are other states that have a similar dichotomy in the numbers e.g. Florida, Texas, Georgia, and California are all states where Black people number in the millions but the overall percentages belie the strength of those communities. My favorite reversal of this trend is when looking at real estate in the US Virgin Islands where the sky meets the sea and everything in between is still radiant. Why? Because even though the USVI only has a Black American population of eighty thousand souls they make up nearly 80% of the overall population. Hmm…Africa lite? And I don’t need a passport or to change my medical insurance?
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I for one can’t wait to see how the 2020 American census numbers come out. What’s shifted in the decade that has seen such disparate leadership at the helm? What’s changed now that we’ve experienced both the unmasking of white supremacy as well as the largest and most inclusive protests on racial inequality this country has ever seen?
Yeah, there are other benefits to this kind of research. For one thing in such an important election year the numbers do help you to understand the stakes better in each state. Heck, maybe it could even shed some light on the electoral college. Nah—scratch that. That shit show will always be mystifying and make no damn sense.
As a fiction writer I will never feel that researching potential settings for my characters is a waste of my time however needlessly distracting it might appear to be. In fact, another side benefit to doing research for places you might like to live in is that it’s some of the loveliest and relaxing kind of daydreaming in a pandemic. Besides it’s always good to know where you might be accepted and feel at home.
February 2, 2020
TGIF and other good news
Well, one thing I know for sure is I’m not the only one who’s happy to see January go. TGIF = Thank God It’s February for the time being and hopefully that sentiment sticks around for a while. During the previous decade, the first month of the year was often challenging for me. I lost two of the most critical people in my life during the month of January. The fact that I often celebrated the birth of both those same souls in January as well, seemed to compound the hard feelings I’ve had towards a month that often asked me to pay special attention to it. However, this year like most people I made a dogged effort to rejuvenate, refocus, and generally not be miserable last month, but the hits they just kept coming anyway.
[image error]Image by Tara Bazille
Here’s the good news. February may be minimalist in its approach, but it still makes a kick ass tailgater to the blight of its predecessor. For better or worse, it’s a month many of us celebrate love. I’m looking forward to seeing a lot of written, visual, and performing arts content, produced with that motif. And the Blacker that love presents itself, the better I’ll like it. Anyone else stalking movie ticket sites for first row seats to The Photograph with Issa Rae and LaKeith Stanfeld?
To that end, I’ll be celebrating Black History Month the way I’ve done in the past by reading a lot of Black authors and sharing thought-provoking quotes from Black Americans on social media. I’m focusing on American Blacks in particular this month because the celebration is conceptually American. It also makes me feel good to do that, because it reminds me that myself, my progeny, my ancestors, and my community are as American as any one type of person or thing. America is not just a “melting pot” it’s a multi-layered construct that belongs to everyone and anyone who continues to choose it. Remembering Black Americans in particular right now reminds me of how much we’ve invested in this country and why it’s important to claim ownership of it while still fighting to preserve what we do love about it in the first place. Or to put it more succinctly: “ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around.”
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My birthday is in this typically arctic month too. I’ll be celebrating another year by spending a lot of it in my writing studio working on finishing the first draft of my next book. I’ve already been working like crazy on what I like to think of as a pseudo outline.
[image error]Image by Hans-Peter Gaster
I say pseudo because my outlines tend to be incongruent. They aren’t necessarily haphazard, but they do probably break any and all universal codes of linear writing. First, they include a lot of mind mapping character observations as well as several scenes from the book in no particular order; some with only a sentence, a snippet of dialogue or some go on for three or four pages. Putting my first drafts together can often be as confounding as a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing but it suits me fine. Usually I know exactly how a story will end but the beginning eludes me. In the case of my next book, I have a solid beginning and a definite “almost there” on the ending. How stimulating would life be without a few surprises?
I’ll be churning out my very first newsletter this month too. My plan is to put one out every quarter this year. I have a few surprises in this first one plus an awesome giveaway and I’ll share an excerpt of my next book. So if you haven’t already signed up for my mailing list now IS the time to take the leap.
I like to think there is always something to look forward to. Hopefully, you’ll find that something for you this month. While you’re looking, I’ll be here jotting down my make-believe thoughts and stubbornly holding on to my small piece of the world and my peace of mind. Keep your chin up and remember love is the answer!
January 7, 2020
Following Zora’s lead
I’ll never forget the first time I read this:
Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.
Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.
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— Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
It was late summer in 1986. I was in a darkened room on Broadway near Lincoln Center, in a now long evaporated movie theater with a friend. I think perhaps my friend was my newly wedded husband. I can’t remember if he was the one with me or someone else and he’s not here anymore to remind me. I just remember I wasn’t alone and I was with a man; a man with melanin deficiencies who was also a good friend.
I remember being excited. We had come to see a film by a new trailblazing Black director who had supposedly made the whole film for $175K on nothing but talent, bartering, and credit cards. The film was being labelled by people I’d talked to as a new kind of Black film. Relevant, contemporary, and authentic were some of the words being used. The director’s name was Spike Lee and the film was called She’s Gotta Have It.
I don’t remember much about the film from that night. I’ve seen it since and when I did, it felt brand new and more flawed but not unpleasantly so. That night in 1986 though, I was consumed with positive and inspired feelings about the movie. Whoever I was with, endured a long walk afterwards with me prattling on, talking their ear off about how cool it was.
I remember enjoying it mostly because I’d never seen anything like it before and it seemed at least a pastiche version of my own life there on the screen. A young Black woman living in New York City and trying to figure out life, love, and relationships in the context of figuring out herself. In that endeavor, by then at least I was clearly way ahead of Nola Darling, the film’s main character, but her story was still as much my story as anyone else’s. More even.
In fact, I’m sure one of the reasons I can’t remember everything about the cinematic experience I had that night is because of how important the quote — that stunningly simple dissection of how men and women differ shown at the beginning of the film — came to be for me. It wore me out mentally and emotionally before I even got five minutes into watching the movie. I loved how true her assessment was. At least, it felt true to me. It also dimly reminded me of how much I wanted to write words of my own that would inspire someone. The dream is the truth. Who was the three named author of this brilliant articulation — this Zora Neale Hurston? Why had I never heard of her before? And was I really considering following the career of this strange funny man Spike Lee for the rest of my life merely because he introduce me to her writing?
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Shortly after that night I did a little investigating. I’ve always been good at research. I should have considered a career as a detective… or a librarian. Both or either would have suited me perfectly. Through a little digging, which in 1986 was only about half as easy as it is now, I eventually found what I was looking for. Largely because of Alice Walker and her obsession with this little known writer of the Harlem Renaissance. The story goes that Ms. Walker rediscovered Hurston’s writings and wrote about them and her in a ground breaking essay that drew heaps of new attention to Zora. I also think they were teaching her work in HBCU’s, which is probably where Spike learned about her. Ms. Walker however, took everything a step further than the Black professors at Morehouse. Clearly dissatisfied with the meager amount of recognition Zora received, she continued her womanist homage by weeding her idol’s indistinguishable grave and giving it a much needed headstone.
Zora’s writings helped with my investigation as well. Further intrigued by the essay and the book title I went out and bought Their Eyes Were Watching God. Through my quick devouring of the book featuring Zora’s protagonist Janie Stark, and clearly one of her own many alter egos, I realized instantly why Mr. Lee had chosen the quote. Janie’s story was also about an independent and sexually liberated/aware Black woman who didn’t choose to be politicized for her choices but was anyway. Her choices may have seemed inscrutable but that was only because they were distinctly her own. She’d live with them and she understood like Zora and Nola they weren’t for everybody but (and this is my final but in this paragraph), they were most definitely right for her.
My own relationships with men up until then had been incredibly muddled. It wasn’t until I’d fallen in love with my husband that I ever felt I got it right. Not being right never stopped me from trying though. With every attempt, I just remembered everything I wanted to remember and forgot everything else then went on with my life from that point on. No wonder Zora seemed to reach into my heart with her words in that darkened theater.
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After that I found Zora’s name everywhere. In historical anthologies, in treatises on the Harlem Renaissance, even in O Magazine. I pored through article after article about her infamous feud with Langston Hughes over Mulebone. I dropped everything to watch adaptations of her books on film and television. When her stamp came out in 2003, I bought twenty. Almost all of them still reside in the dark recesses of one of the desks in my house safe and sound. Once a well-read Germanic IT guy I worked with a decade ago, who happened to be from one of the more conservative sections of upstate New York was purging his library for a move south. He gave me his entire, quite sizable collection of Zora Neale Hurston books because he’d heard about my fascination with her. However, he did this only after he’d reread each and every one of them all cover to cover.
I wonder now if in 2018 he had immediately pre-ordered Zora’s posthumous publication on the last known survivor of the slave trade called Barracoon like I did when word about its release surfaced.
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Over the course of many years my husband and I discussed Zora Neale Hurston often. We read her, quoted her, and generally decided that while we wouldn’t have wanted to actually be her especially given the poverty and capriciousness of her later years we both still had an abundant amount of respect for her irreverent place in the world. To us, her name which means dawn a.k.a. sunrise in Latin, became synonymous with what we thought a powerful, outspoken, and independent woman of words could be, so much so that we allowed her name to resonate with us for many years to come.
Having committed most of the quote that begins this blog post to memory, I got the rare opportunity to share it at a dinner party recently. There was a lovely young couple there who had never heard of Zora Neale Hurston. I suspect the shock of that so close to Zora’s birthday may have been what tempted me to start writing this post. It was surprising because despite her earlier obscurity I thought by now Zora was, if not a household name, at least known by people who still read as voraciously and diversely as the woman of this couple seemed to. I think I managed to do the quote some justice with very little butchering. Enough I hope so that the young woman may at least decide someday in the future to read Zora’s work.
I’m sure even Langston would agree Zora deserves that and so much more. Besides, who knows where it might lead.
January 2, 2020
New Year. New Lily?
I spent this past Christmas in California with my daughter who just moved there. I’ve always loved the winter season but it’s unusually refreshing to me the few times I’ve spent the holiday season in a warm climate. Walking beneath billowy palm trees while having the warmth of the sun follow me around for a few days helped me to clarify the numerous plans I have for the new decade beginning with the year 2020.
For most people January is always a time for new beginnings. A time that one can be resolute in their determination to find the better, sweeter, more productive parts of their own nature. A time one can conquer their demons and ride a chariot of confidence into the fresh, promising new year.
[image error]Image by Maddi Bazzocco
But over the months and years of my life I’ve figured out resolutions are for ca ca. They don’t often work very well, if at all. Or at least they don’t work in the long term. Or maybe they just don’t work for me. However, that’s not to say that nothing works. In fact, I think I may have finally found the answer to the age old challenge of the new year, new you conundrum.
The way I’ve flipped the switch is to focus on a theme for the beginning of my new year. The gist of this theme is to create a recurring idea that you can brush up against any time you think you’ve lost your way. When, in April, or heaven forbid February, your purpose starts to slip through your fingers like thick smoke through a stove hood, all you have to do is think back on your theme then remember where you want to be or go to refocus. My theme is even streamlined to one single word that can stay top of mind and bring the whole process hurtling back to me with just the immediate impact of remembering it in the moment.
Last year my theme was honesty. For a few years I’d been pushing a lot of my thoughts and feelings through filters. Squeezing my feelings through the most secure and narrowest netting. Making sure I didn’t focus too hard on anything scary or difficult to bear. It also meant I didn’t speak too bluntly or straight from the hip and inadvertently hurt someone’s feelings — something I’ve done in the past — a lot.
All of that circumspection was a problem though. Any kind of in-authenticity can be a heavy burden to carry so I decided for a year I’d try to rid myself of that cargo using honesty as a theme. For the most part it worked or at least did what I wanted it to do — lighten my load and help me see things with a clarity that I would have ignored or denied in the past. It was an enlightening experiment.
This year I went looking for another bolder word to use for my motif. Something that would spring me into action whenever I thought of it. Not fraught or anxiety driven action, but something that would create a noticeably forward moving and progressive shift towards one or many of my goals. Several words occurred to me. Intention stayed with me for a while but it was somewhat vague so it never felt quite right. Manifest was an option I considered but again not a word that would bring any chaotic thoughts or lackadaisical procrastinating tendencies to a grinding halt. The word manifest in itself makes me a little nervous. When I examined why it did, was when the word I want to use for 2020 came to me, not with a whisper but a warrior cry.
PREPARE.
[image error]Image by Andrew Neel
To my mind you can’t manifest anything at all unless you prepare for it. Preparation is key. I have many things I intend to make real in this decade and much to assemble, blend, concoct, and produce along the way.
I’ll keep you in the loop as I go dear reader here on my website or on my author page. You can always check this link as well to learn a little about everything I’m doing in one place: linktr.ee/lilyjava.
Til next time allow me to wish you a Happy New Year. May your blessings and joy in 2020 be abundant and may you always be ready and fully prepared to receive them.
Cheers, Lily
[image error]Image by Jamie Fenn
December 1, 2019
It’s not the cold you’re feeling…
December is not for lightweights. I don’t think it matters where you live or what kind of weather you’re in for either. December has become a month filled with the general busyness and stress of living the way you’ve been taught you should live. It’s a time to be joyful as well as celebrate your blessings with those you love, to give as well as receive, and to contemplate the waning year as well as the one coming and your place in it.
No pressure, huh?
[image error]Photo by Andre Benz
I was one of those people who always enjoyed this time of year and did many of the things that one would be expected to do — watch me dance, a mere reflection of the holiday season. A few years ago that changed for me. I suddenly became intimately aware of all the people who find this time of year the hardest of all. I even, briefly, became one of those people. Since then, I’ve been rethinking how this time of year has shaped me and how instinctively I’ve been shaped throughout my life by things I have no control over. Perhaps change is not only gonna come, perhaps it’s desperately needed. And where should change start, my friends?
Being an ornery type I find these thoughts liberating . . . and vexing. I already like to think of myself as independent. Individual. Not one of the herd. But, in the end, it is what it is, isn’t it? You can break the chains of stereotypes or you can mend fences with your past but can you do both at the same time and still be happy? We’ll see. It’s a goal, anyway.
[image error]Photo by Amariei Mihai
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing and thinking about ways I can continue to heal myself as well as others. Come here or to my author page, whenever you want some insight into what I’m up to on the writing front. Also, if you go to this link, you’ll find a lot more about me there too: linktr.ee/lilyjava.
Thanks as always for checking in. Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy, and loving holiday season.
xoxo, Lily
It's not the cold you're feeling…
December is not for lightweights. I don’t think it matters where you live or what kind of weather you’re in for either. December has become a month filled with the general busyness and stress of living the way you’ve been taught you should live. It’s a time to be joyful as well as celebrate your blessings with those you love, to give as well as receive, and to contemplate the waning year as well as the one coming and your place in it.
No pressure, huh?
[image error]Photo by Andre Benz
I was one of those people who always enjoyed this time of year and did many of the things that one would be expected to do — watch me dance, a mere reflection of the holiday season. A few years ago that changed for me. I suddenly became intimately aware of all the people who find this time of year the hardest of all. I even, briefly, became one of those people. Since then, I’ve been rethinking how this time of year has shaped me and how instinctively I’ve been shaped throughout my life by things I have no control over. Perhaps change is not only gonna come, perhaps it’s desperately needed. And where should change start, my friends?
Being an ornery type I find these thoughts liberating . . . and vexing. I already like to think of myself as independent. Individual. Not one of the herd. But, in the end, it is what it is, isn’t it? You can break the chains of stereotypes or you can mend fences with your past but can you do both at the same time and still be happy? We’ll see. It’s a goal, anyway.
[image error]Photo by Amariei Mihai
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing and thinking about ways I can continue to heal myself as well as others. Come here or to my author page, whenever you want some insight into what I’m up to on the writing front. Also, if you go to this link, you’ll find a lot more about me there too: linktr.ee/lilyjava.
Thanks as always for checking in. Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy, and loving holiday season.
xoxo, Lily
November 2, 2019
November musings . . .
What is it about November? Well personally, it’s usually a good month for me. It offers my very favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. This is a time I can do two activities I enjoy immensely 1) Reflecting on all that I’m grateful for in my life and 2) Eating and drinking to excess while everyone else is doing it too, so I’m not alone in the madness. Ha!
This November it’s surprisingly cold in Atlanta where I am now. But I’ve already started the month off right because last night I was catching up with my dear friends and writing sisters: Nia Forrester, Jacinta Howard, and the lovely, sorely missed Rae Lamar. And surprise, surprise! What did we spend the evening talking about? Our families, our writing, books, and the politics of race. Yeah, I know. We’re pretty hardcore.
The Blackbirds Novel Duet I released last month is live now in ebook, paperback, and available for free on Kindle Unlimited.
Both ‘Ethan’s Choice: Blank Pages I’ and ‘Serena’s Vow: Blank Pages II’ are being well received and if you’ve had a chance to pick them up; thank you for reading and please, please find a moment to write an honest review on Amazon and Goodreads. Just a few words goes a long way and it means so much when you do.
Tonight I’m going to be signing the Blackbirds Novel Duet at our fourth Wine With Writers book event. I’m incredibly excited to talk with readers in person again and to meet the celebrated Piper Huguley, Nako, and Joan Vassar. There are still a few tickets available and you can find out more about it at winewithwriters.com.
This is my author page, which will always give you some insight into what I’m up to on the writing front. Also, if you go to this link, you’ll find a lot more about me and generally what I’m up to: linktr.ee/lilyjava
Thanks as always for checking in. Keep warm and keep thriving.
Lily
