How I see It

Posts tagged ‘Moments’

In Tough Moments, Remember…

Dear Future Husband,

This letter is not for all the good times we’ll have (an endless life of beauty, bliss and love unending is quite guaranteed in Jesus). This letter is for the times when our love seems to be fading away under the duress of life’s pressures. This is a reminder of our LOVE. Four things:

  1. We’re still the same people: We used to do weird alien sounds and laugh at each other’s silliness. I’d call you nicknames you absolutely abhorred, yet answered to. You’d poke or pinch me for no reason just because my irritation made you laugh. We’d both watch stupid videos on Facebook, lean back our chairs in that Hyundei you so loved, laughing our lungs out. Let’s laugh through this too. I still like singing, dancing, talking too much and holding your hand while we drive to the grocery store together. You still laugh at my silliness and slap my behind when I get out of your car. You still like to tease me about my dancing skills (which I think are pretty descent).  Let’s never stop being us and if we grow, let’s grow together.
  2. I LOVE YOU: I’m a strong believer that love will always be enough. Why? Because with love, no sacrifice is too great to make. I love you, I always will.
  3. I looked damn good in my wedding dress and my-oh-my, were you just a sight to behold in that suit!: Look at our wedding photo resting ever so beautifully (in whatever part of our home we decided to hang it)! Don’t we just look so happy and so blessed and so dang good?
  4. God has our backs, ALWAYS: In Him, we have our life and happiness. We’ve trusted him to love us through our life, let’s not stop now.

So, dear husband, whether I like you today or you don’t like me tomorrow, I know you’ll always love me and I’ll always love you. I know God’s love for us both will never waver and neither should our love for each other. If he blessed us with each other, why insult his blessing? We are forever!

With immense love,
You dearest future wife.

Category:

Randoms

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Everyday People – August 30th 2016

I met Robert Adams today. He’s a tall African American man with dread locks that reach the small of his back, pulled in a low ponytail. When I first walked into the historic looking high-rise building on Vermont avenue NW, Washington DC, he greeted me with charm and eloquence. He had been typing an email.

“Hold on a second, I’ll finish this email and I can be out of your way”. Just a moment later, he asked – looking down at his computer screen; “So are you in school? Or…” I smiled and told him my education spiel and how I’m working a new job now in addition to this concierge gig (updates about this in a new blog coming soon).

In the few minutes we talked, I found out he’s been playing guitar for 40 years.

“OMG that’s crazy cause I sing too!”, I said, gushing as he pulled his guitar from under the concierge desk and put it in its bag.

“Well then, you should come to our Live Music Monday shows in Silver Spring” he said, the sound of his guitar bag zipper subtle but noticeable as he spoke.

For a moment, I did consider it. I mean, I’ve been thinking about a venue where I can sing with a live band and just have a relaxed time on stage, sharing this gift that God bestowed upon my vocal pipes. As I processed his invitation, he pulled out a card and handed it to me. I looked at the card thinking; I’ll keep this. Maybe one of these evenings. Who Knows? 

“I wanna learn to play. I bought a guitar once, and my fingers just wouldn’t cooperate.

“Hah! see? You know what they say… when the student is ready, the teacher will appear”, he said in response. I smiled at his subtle invitation be my teacher.

A few minutes later, his girlfriend came down to meet him in the lobby for their lunch date. As she stepped out of the building, he stayed back, pulled out a black newsboy hat, the kind with extra room for long locks like Bob Marley’s, and he put it on.

In that moment, I saw the artist in the man. He had gone from a suited up, prim and polished look, to an approachable lover of the arts, just by adding a hat and removing his name brooch.

When he finally stepped out to meet his woman, no sooner had they taken 3 steps before he extended his left hand and placed it on the small of her back; a gesture of protection, and affection. I smiled in admiration as they disappeared down the rather quiet street.

I met Robert Adams today and I saw the meaning of simple happiness. I saw love, passion, art, and life in his eyes and heard them in the words he spoke. It was my pleasure Mr. Adams, and maybe I’ll visit and listen to your show one of these Mondays.

 

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Randoms

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We Must Fight

I have a question….

Disclaimer: this question might be considered offensive to some folk.
P.S, it is not intended to spark hate or be offensive, it is intended to spark conversation…

Ok so here’s my question… If given the chance in today’s America or perhaps today’s world, for black people to enslave white people the way they did blacks during slavery, would Black people do it?

Our wounds are deep and our scars will never fade. The history can never be forgotten. But will hurting the ones who hurt us make the pain go away? Will holding on to this pain somehow make our struggles less of a burden?

This is what I say. I say the only way to beat racism is to take our wounds, our scars, our history, and make it beautiful. It’s to rise up to excellence and be majestic and unapologetic about who we are.

We are a people, stronger than chains or beatings, stronger than plantation farms or forced labour. Stronger than abuse or insult. We are strong even when we are at our weakest.

So while we can never forget who we are because we will carry our scars until the end of time, we can also not live in perpetual hate and limit our possibilities. We must not find every excuse to relive our torture, to blame, even though the blame is very justified.

We must wear our scars with pride, and March in strength to excellence, for the strong were born to fight!! We must fight!

Happy Fourth America!

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Blog

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Our Path To Greatness Gala

Last Sunday (May 22, 2016) I had the privilege to attend a gala fundraiser hosted by the Non-Profit organization Our Paths To Greatness. The reason for this fundraiser was to provide affordable education and other resources to Makoko village in Nigeria. This village, suspended over a body of water has over 85 thousand inhabitants, who fish as a primary source of living. The village only has one school for the thousands of children who inhabit the area. optg-infographic-d

OPTG aims to provide oportunities for “underserved africans, equipping them with the skills and resources to compete in their communities and the world, through investments in education, enrichment in arts and culture as well as various projects to aid communities in need”.

I had the opportunity to perform (back up) with Tosinger, a Nigerian folk singer and story teller who uses her art as a means to shed light on African culture and life.

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Left to Right: Gabriella and Tosinger attend the OPTG Gala

I also met with Laolu Senbanjo, a lawyer turned body paint artist who has made a name for himself as the guy who worked with the models in Beyonce’s Lemonade video, and now has a design contract with Nike.

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Left to Right: Laolu Senbanjo and Gabriella at the OPTG Gala

I was accompanied by a few of my fellow Legacy House Inc. members. Jason Nkwain, a poet and Leslie Njuakom, our financial secretary. Legacy House Inc. Is in its beginning stages of creation but we have been around for almost 4 years. Our mission is to expose african Art of any form (music, dance, literature, fine arts, etc ), to mainstream media.

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Left to Right: Jason Nwain, Leslie Njuakom and Gabriella attend the OPTG Gala

I learned so much from being around like-minded indivuduals who strive to excell at what they do and move Africa forward. This gala reminded me of a few things:

a. Keep doing what you love to do. You will see your hardwork come to fruition soon.
b. Do your best to give back. There is never nothing to give. We each have something to offer.
c. Enjoy life. At the risk of sounding cliché, I say we only live once and we must make the best of every moment and recognize how blessed we are each day.

Happiness is a choice. Live life, No Worries.

 

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Blog

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Survive

love.     family.       friends.      dreams.               truths.           lies.           chaos.          sadness.            anger.     hate.    frustration.          meditation.           clarity.         forgiveness.     happiness.        peace.                moments.          memories
LIFE.       SURVIVAL.

Category:

Poetry

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I AM – Vol. 2.

I am not my fears.
I AM my Fierce.

I am not my weakness.
I AM my wonder.

I am not my past.
I AM my possibility.

I am not my regret.
I AM my reinvention

I am not my doubt.
I AM my doing.

I am not my low.
I AM my loudest.

I am not my never.
I AM my now.

Yesterday took with her, all that I am not.
Today comes bearing gifts of all that I AM, all that I CAN, all that I was destined to BE

I not Maybe,
I AM.

-Ga Bri Ella

Category:

Poetry

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Fresh Air Inspiration

b2aa27133c7d3bf6826232c60f60e053It’s freezing outside, and her ears feel numb, like they just got pulled out of the fridge. They’re so cool they tingle with something that feels sharp. But it is a bittersweet kind of pain. The kind of pain that you can afford to endure for just a minute, another minute in that chilly night, where everything smells fresh and the air is pure. She takes a deep breath and she can’t help but smile. This crisp air makes her think of times when nature was pure, untouched, void of contamination. Times when nature was all that mattered and one could feel every creature, seen and unseen. She smiles again as reality hits her. That’s all gone now she thinks. Everything gets in the way now. Just then, her thoughts are interrupted by the door into Knight Hall, the journalism building at her university. Confirmation much?

She’s been walking to class after an afternoon of watching “The Carrie Diaries” on a borrowed computer, in the huge school library. It’s 6:55pm on a Tuesday night and she has class in 20 minutes. It’s her senior year… well almost her senior year. She wants to take an extra semester, which means starting her senior year next semester.

She’s here now. She walks into the building and the artificial warm air hits her. She’s relieved that she will soon regain feeling in her ears. Her body is tingling, as it adapts to the warmth inside the building. This unnatural, forced warmth. Thank God for Heating systems she thinks. But then the air isn’t pure anymore. It smells corrupted; a mixture of several perfumes/ body sprays, sweat and warm air. Nothing fresh about that. It doesn’t smell bad though. The scents have mixed up so well that it almost smells like nothing.

The classroom is empty except for the three professors, one of whom will leave in a few minutes because his work day is over and he has to get back to his life. “Hello” she says as she walks to her seat.

She sits down and logs into the computer. Her mind drifts back to that cool air outside. She had felt very inspired in that short walk. It was something about the coolness of the air, and that long deep breath she had taken. She wants to write and as she logs into her WordPress account, she’s thinking I didn’t know fresh air could be so inspiring.

Category:

Short Stories

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