In my recovery, my mind, body, and spirit align to receive what it hears; it’s soothing like a soak in a warm lavender lathering bath. Yet, messages can sometimes seem distorted because I am not spiritually capable of receiving what I hear; it’s called the denial trait. At those moments, my insides bubble to the surface like a percolator, and I respond with rage. It happens quickly without taking the time to breathe and allow the words to roll off like a waterfall.  

It’s usually in hindsight when I accept that I am in recovery. I tell myself, “Take a moment to breathe and digest what you feel, little Lynda? You don’t have to voice yourself with a tone of anger, where your stomach tells you that you owe someone amends. Continue to differentiate if and when amends are needed, not just apologize, but be willing to change the behavior. Those are old patterns of not wanting to upset the ebb and flow of voicing your opinion and making someone upset or feeling they will not like you. Be authentic, and that is a cause to be vulnerable, transparent, with integrity, and some Kindness. Grace. and Love.”

Growing up in public is painful. Unfortunately, I didn’t have support as a young adolescent to encourage me to share my emotions and feelings; it was to do as told and not seen was the attitude in the household I lived. So today, it’s hard to be authentic without defaulting to old behaviors before I realize that I have a voice and I can state what I’m feeling without fear of being ridiculed. And if I do receive negative feedback, it’s my responsibility to decipher the truth; I do so by working with others and a mentor. My experience has been the lessons will repeat themselves until they align so I can hear.

It’s important to ask myself, “What if what is said is true?” Answering this question takes contemplation, being honest with myself, open-minded, and willing to accept what I have denied for so long; the truth, my truth. If there is no validity to what is said, I can discard the information. Otherwise, I can gently and kindly fold the newfound knowledge into my recovery.

One day at a time, one step at a time, recovery is all about welcoming the future of my potential with mindfulness. Namaste.

Relinquish control

As a person who masters control, hears that emotional freedom comes when a gradual and gentle release of power is possible, she cries.

Long-lived a way of living that sense there were safety and predictability when the reins are held tight, and oh so effortless they say to let go. The thought of pulling tighter dominates the frontal lobe of thinking.

Take a moment to breathe and release the limitless possibilities this transformation can have on your life. Don’t allow the false evidence of appearing real that you will drown in fear to rupture the profound knowledge that will allow the remaining time here to be yours for your enjoyment. So what if your life is heading downward will at a high rate of speed? Don’t you care about that emotional freedom that is being free offers?

The self-doubt was self-created and can be questioned only by you; the holder of all things is possible when a sincere effort attempts to change. Your trust in those things, places, people, past, and future did disappoint, but confidence can resurface if only a mustard seed of faith to believe it’s possible.

Seek a new way of asking for help in that what lingers in the soul; those ancestors and predecessors. How do you know this time won’t be different and that freedom will transform you into an astonishing new being. Tap into what is unknown but known possibilities of what once was, those ancestors.

Emotional freedom is a thing worth prospecting. Sit. Write. Allow those fears to gather on the paper of knowledge that requests truth to be wisdom.


My awareness of wounds that still lingers reared their ugly heads triggered by the senseless murders in Buffalo, NY, on May 14, 2022. I know this because I will move into spaces of questioning why certain people in my life haven’t reached out and acknowledged me. I realize this type of thinking is asinine and a way to deflect from what I am feeling and what my motives are. The pain of others resides in me, and most times, I don’t realize it’s me that I have to work on healing. It doesn’t justify or ignore the tragic murders, but it does help me see that I have some more work to do with me.

My immediate response to the tragedy was homicidal tendencies, and I know that way of thinking is not healthy, nor is it sane. In other words, I take old wounds and pile higher with current traumas created in the world and pile trauma upon trauma, and I cannot heal because of the inability to separate the two from one another.

My childhood mirrors that of one that needed more than I received. In hindsight, I realize this information because of my willingness to recover, so I can live without carrying baggage from the past and allowing it to comingle with other trauma. It’s so easy for me to feel sorry for myself and feel isolated and take things personally because of abandonment issues.

At my age, I am still struggling, and it is hard, yet I write to get the thoughts out of my mind onto paper because I am a visual person. It is hard for me to pretend it’s not happening when I can see what is happening. Once I accept what I see, the hardest part is making changes. It’s easier to ignore and move on and repeat the behavior that I so badly want to transform.

I am grateful for the awareness. I continue to ask a power greater than myself to help me, and that power is my ancestors. Although I sometimes want to blame them for my woes because, after all, they were the ones that perhaps taught my parents what they knew. I know if I compare them alongside with what I don’t know, I can accept that my ancestors want nothing but the best for me. Their chastising me was an acknowledgment,  a request per se, to do better, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, it was a concern to help me survive this cruel world.

Today, I accept and appreciate precisely that. My abandonment issues are mine to deal with the best that I can, and at any time,  ask whether I can survive the acid test and not drink and do drugs when the going gets tough. I am grateful for the awareness that I am not alone but with myself and want to survive.


Here is to a gracious good morning from a girl in Kansas City with an attitude of gratitude. I read such a profound message from Dr. Richard Rohr, “The Root of Violence.”  I understood that I was harming myself when using drugs and alcohol, which is inner violence towards myself. Yet, I didn’t believe that I was hurting anyone else. Yet, my actions did align with violence towards others because of my dis-ease, which I had no connection with myself or others, perhaps those that needed me in a way that I couldn’t provide.

I am aware of my emotions, although I have to separate them from reality because what I am feeling is not necessarily what is happening. In other words, it can be that fear of false evidence appearing real. Sometimes my pain from the trauma of the happenings in the world causes my dis-ease to flare with rebellion against myself and others, comparing my insides to others’ outsides.

My desire and intentional work are toward making a connection with the love of a power greater than myself; it’s constant and never-ending. When I cultivate this relationship with a passion that sees me as beloved, I find solace in what is. My acceptance does not mean that I like what is happening around me, but I can get to a place of acceptance of what is.

I pray as a novice in meditation, sitting, discerning, and believing that all is well in my soul. By utilizing this practice, I have become more advanced with my belief and intuitively know how to handle situations that used to baffle me. My higher power needs me to assist by getting and staying out of my way, allowing life to happen without manipulating and trying to force solutions that are not mine.

I am genuinely grateful for this moment of clarity and love for myself and others. I believe this practice will continue to yield comfort as long as I do the work to practice progress, not perfection. Love. Peace. Satisfaction. Repeat. I send my love and appreciation to my predecessors, ancestors, and the world.

The Crusade of 2020

As I glimpse over my journal, the terrain has been bumpy, and yet I am grateful that I stayed in the solution of recovery, and that is, I cannot change anything about what has transpired and nor can I control what will happen. The only thing that I can change is me, and with great discernment, I am grateful to see that I continue to peel that stubborn onion back another layer at a time.

I appreciate being able to trudge this journey and the intent of being okay, although this past couple of years have been painful and insightful for sure.

Zoom became a new thing that has brought me closer to new friends worldwide; some old friends didn’t make it because of COVID-19 and deaths from the disease of alcoholism.

As an African American staying the course with the upheaval from the movements that happened during the murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and so many others, I consider myself a movement heavy. The Black Lives Matter movement took the front stage, and it was more reason for me to look at my so-called relationships. I could not do any of this alone, so I am so grateful that my higher power steered me to the Hollywood squares of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color).

It is a place where outside issues are not an issue and is spoken aloud without hesitation. What might appear as an outside issue is an inside issue for me that can and will affect my recovery.

With hearing the similarities, I could relax as best as I could to know that others identified with my righteous rage. Yet, I continue to look within and search for my motives because I refuse any longer to pretend or shrink myself to make others (my allies) feel comfortable. I have a voice that carries very loud, yet I can hope that my higher power will continue to help me speak calmly and with dignity to share what I feel because my message is one of hope for change.

As a result, there is an anomalous fierce in the air with retroject trying to come center. My comfort has come in the genres of literature and meditation through these years. It’s been inconsequential to pick up drinks and drugs, which is a miracle. 

Life will continue to unfold, yet I have to do the work, do my best, and leave the rest for my higher power. I chose not to be a chameleon through it all, even when the scariest thing can happen, like a loved one becoming ill and hospitalized. I try not to dramatize the situation but deal with my emotions separate from the facts. In other words, work on that cognitive dissonance.

I continue to take one day at a time through isolation and not being able to have my family close because of this pandemic. I know my higher power is with me wherever I go. Music and sharing honestly with a sponsor, yoga, and walking bring healing. These things have caused me to tip my awareness to my most inner prize, my inner child. With therapy and the courage to face what I lost, I am sure to find some of these fragments in other ways that I choose to strive.

I am loved and will wait by staying on this day because it has been various things I must experience, which all take time. The most important thing is knowing that I don’t have to drink nor do drugs because all that will do is worsen my situation. I plan to stay the course, one day at a time. My program is spiritual and not religious, inviting me to find a higher power of my choosing, which has been my saving grace.

More will reveal

My awareness of being is where I choose to devote my time, dropping all auditions and rehearsal shows, just allowing my authentic self to unfold

Life has moments like a tidewater rubber float releasing its air after recognizing that it has taken on more than its share. I know this because the tightness continues that can cause a collapse unless I remove some of the pressure acknowledging that I not only hear the sizzling, but I feel the sinking

My alignment from years ago with various teachings that claimed I must obey that which is my elder, superior per se. I became so circumfluent aware that I am that elder that could no more abide by that which was not my reality, no fear, because I hold the passe-partout

I love this discovery like a resilient peel at a time. Not sure if I can handle what I find. Yet, I use the adversity years of squandering wandering around hoping that I will find a niche that is strictly mine

There is no need to search any further what I have been awaiting has been there from conception. All I have to do is have a mustard seed of faith that wherever I go, I am there waiting

I love the life I am uncovering, knowing that at any given moment,  I can change; that is being authentic


Shame, guilt, and remorse rob joy. If only I could muster a little faith to trust that pain bestowed by others upon me or my pain on them derived from pain.

I forgive, and I ask for forgiveness. I know none other but to seek relief from the spirits of those that came before me…my ancestors…they are the wind to my back.

I no longer have to struggle. I don’t have to suffer. I can pick up the spiritual tool kit and be joyful with cheer.

I choose to move forward and give myself a chance to live my best life. I hope to pass the joy to someone who might be indecisive about the blame for the pain because, over time, it will not matter.

IT IS NOTHING BUT PURE JOY when I am willing to move forward and release myself and others from whatever robs me.

Conversation With the Spirits of my Ancestors

“I sense it’s you, and I know you are there, pulling for me to do the next right thing. The wind nudges me to pay attention to those small itchy bitsy things like the wind. You want my attention so bad that you nudge others to speak your truth to me.”

“Constantly, I hear that I am not by myself but with myself in the spirit of my ancestors. Some will question what it is you are doing, sure it might appear to be a séance of will with the spirits, and it’s whatever you can make it out to be so you can hear what we need you to hear.”

“Sweet lady of desperation to know what we know, be assured that it was never easy. We know that strength comes from those things that don’t break you. Stand tall, lean into our courage of knowledge that the lower spirits will suck the life out of you like letches, yet your dialect got you on our radar.”

“Know that the anima of your spirit connects with our spirit, and we are one. Where you are, we are there with you; you are never alone. Trust in the process to know that we too lived through fear, knowing we had to succumb those hurdles to freedom pushed us through. “

“Don’t let your flaws of childhood hijack the precious present because personal integrity is between you and you. We got you. We are the wind to your back. Soar like the endless sea. We love you, and we are always joyful when you come, seeking our spirits.”


In a world that is so divisive, it’s relevant to stop and breathe, to be grateful for breath when feeling anxious. To walk through discomfort brings about comfort. Yet, who wants to admit complete defeat losing the power to control other people, places, and things? Howbeit, consequences are unquestionable for decisions made, and it’s a choice that can affect the very existence. The thought of self-preservation is the law of nature, is to know that opportunity presents itself to be authentic, and the only one to control is self in itself.

Be present at the moment because yesterday is a canceled check, tomorrow is a promissory note, and today is a gift. What a desire to be grateful and not distracted by the outside noise. Trust in the importance of loving thy neighbor as one wants to be loved. To show agape love, a kindness above all other things, a serenity of grace that is free for the yearners, for spreading that sisterly brotherly love.  

It’s about the breath. To breathe deeply, pull from the stomach, hold for a few seconds, and then exhale. Know that all is well in the soul. Repeat every time the mind wants to drift to a place not aligned with love. Welcome the thought of restraining pen and tongue. Instead, utilize pen and paper for journaling, seeking a spirit of inclusiveness.

Mindfulness can help one go inside oneself to deal with the trauma that can cause beget trauma onto others. That sadness, loneliness, fearfulness, abandonment, isolation, shame, remorse, guilt, and lost dreams allow one to focus on turning those things into plenipotentiary hope. It’s a process worth the promise of freedom from the bondage of self and not harming self or others.

At any time, the soul awaits the darkness lurking inward, peeking, yearning for recovery to thy whole self, gaining a spirit of awakening. All that is needed is permission to go within, be true to self, and know that all can live well with the soul when the mind doesn’t forget one’s fragmented pieces cry out with hope to mend.


I realize it’s been a while since I wrote more on my book. I feel stuck in the sense that I started to research my ancestors on Ancestry with the hope that I could learn something about myself and those ancestors that I didn’t even know.

Surprisingly, I discovered more than I expected, but unfortunately, the information was bittersweet. To learn of a great-grandfather and to realize he was a slave is disheartening. Sure I heard it in passing from my parents, but to see it in writing was another thing. I, of all folks, should have known better to ask Goggle what it was like for slaves during the 1800s. This entire climate of CRT (Critical Race Theory) is just that, a theory. I want to know facts, and the facts are in the learning.

America has let me down. I feel anger to the point of rage. Yet, I have to continue to rise with my ancestors being the wind to my back. I do not want to live life dangling around wandering in orbit as if I don’t have a responsibility to carry the torch laid at my feet for the opportunities that I can snag along the way.

Life is tough. There is no fairness in the game of cards society has dealt people such as me, noted in Article 1, Section 2 of the Constitution, counted as 3/5 of a person, yet I rise. It takes every ounce of my being to extinguish the fire in me that this claim is a myth, despite there being a change by section 2 of Amendment 14. I am whole as a person, two eyes, two hands, two ears, two legs, two feet, a complete set of fingers and toes, a head on my shoulders, a brain, blood that bleeds like others. Regardless, if those limbs were missing, that makes me no less than a person to be counted. I cannot and will not succumb to the hatred of this world; even if I have to stand alone, I will rise. I will write and continue my book. It’s a must and my ancestors depend on me to tell our story. I cannot, and I will not remain baffled.