Monday, 18 May 2015

Thank God for Sunsets

Today I was able to see such an amazing sunset. I live in the Caribbean so it’s not really that uncommon for me. My friend and I were having the most cavalier discussion and then I realized that I’ve seen about a gazillion beautiful sunsets and yet I AWAYS experience this deep appreciation and an unexplainable awe and gratitude whenever I get to see one. This is important to me. To not let the obvious beauty of something that’s beyond my ability to create, sail away on a tide of familiarity.
So thank God for sunsets 
And thank God for the ability to appreciate them…

Love, Light and Freedom
-Kerry-Ann Davis

Tuesday, 31 March 2015

I believe that as much as God loves the prayerful penitent so too must he love the persistent, up against all odds, death coming endlessly in waves but never go under, God loves the fighter

`Muhammad Muwakil

Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Crossing the Bridge

Society’s culture is  very strange. It seems as if the very fabric of the culture/ belief systems which we embrace as a collective is cryptically stitched in such a way that it seeks to make people feel as small as possible wherever it can, however it can. How unfortunate is that? How unfortunate is it that most of us have to struggle to operate beneath a sheet of not good enough while knee deep in fear and an unrelenting self doubt? And why has this been perpetuated hitherto?

About a week ago I made a very minor mistake in the public. The mistake however, had the potential to be destructive to another person’s liability. All in all my attempt at apologizing proved futile. And while I did understand the person’s frustration with my mistake, the reasons for their less than polite reaction towards me even after my offertory of apologies, eluded me.

The habit of defining a person by one single action must be done away with. I think with the clutter of emotions and harsh realities that surround us it’s easy to forget that yours is one story out of a vast and varied seven billion. It’s important to remember that though your story is both sacred and important, as is the rest of the seven billion. 

When one reflects on society's past it is clear that we have been conditioned to relegate another’s worth from a very young age. Most parents continuously and passionately relate to their children that they are special, that they are important, that they are indeed a genius. And while all these may be true, it is not the whole story. But the whole story is never explained, the weight of the of the seven billion stories is too often left out in the scheme of things with regards to how the family as an institution socializes the child. Hence too many a time generations have been birthed with a self-indulgence, an innocent blindness, to the other worlds that that are revolving before their eyes.

When that type of mentality or outlook has been breathed into you from birth by parents who have had the same thing done to them it is hard to deviate. But it is important to note that that breath exudes negative energy in its self affirmations and unrecognized selfishness and that is not a life. That is not a life well lived. A life that actively does work to belittle others is not a life. And while in a world full of social constructs and boundaries of which very little is often considered too far or too much with regards to proximity, social responsibility, honesty and heartfelt kindness, one must still try to rid oneself of ignorance and proceed accordingly.

Love & Light

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Of souls.

      When I die,  when life has relegated me to nothing more than a lifeless host, I want to be cremated. There is a quote, one I cannot seem to remember quite accurately but I'm presently too lazy to search for it. However it expands to something of the effect:
              “You do not have a soul,
                you are a soul.
                You have a body.

      In this very moment, I feel as though our bodies are more of a cage than a companion to our souls. We spend our days full of worry and misplaced excitement over the preservation of our bodies. All its wants and selfish desires. In this moment, I feel as though our bodies often offer us unnecessary wars. And the weight of these wars lay heavy on souls that are merely trying to exist in joy. In this moment I feel as though even in on our good days our bodies are often not in the business of being a humble parallel, a home to our souls.
      Most nights of my teenage years have been spent contemplating the actuality of freedom, the reality that it is indeed a fleeting notion and the value it holds when placed in the same sinking boat of our survival. I try to think about freedom in its truest sense. Have I? I am unsure.
     By physical and scientific definition I am 19 years old. The science says that my body is 19 years old. But  I have come to know enough of myself in the past couple of months that my soul feels far older.There is a silent hint of familiarity that I can often taste in my tea on nights when the stars and my heart can't find the right amount of light to offer.
     I have come to believe that freedom is always fleeting. It is not something you stumble upon gracefully, it is not something you fall into like love, unaware of your thirsting. I believe that freedom is all the blood, sweat and tears of our choices. It is the badger of our beliefs. It is the flinting coursing through our veins in the face of resistance. Freedom cannot be stumbled upon. It is not the pretty or the hidden away of lighter things, those that soothe souls on Sundays. It is to be fought for. Everyday. It is the good fight for that good culture, that pure vibes. It is the god fight on the days when the tears can no longer hold secrets.
     It is the choice. The passion to choose and the bearing of the lacerations that come with such a choice. Freedom is not the ability to choose but it is the choice. Everyday, there is a fight waiting to be fought. Your freedom is waiting for you at the finish line, in the company of that authentic Jazz music and the spirit of the poets.
    When I die, I want to be cremated. I want my soul to be free, without the bother of a prison like body that is more enemy than friend. I want my soul to be free. I want my soul to be free, be embraced by the wind and make up for all the battles that I have failed to conquer.But while I am still breathing, I want to be free in such a way that I leave the choice as my legacy.

Love, Light and Freedom

Friday, 12 April 2013