Random Musings for A Rainy Day

​The rain beckons me like a siren

One only I hear

Each drop a musical note

The showers a melody

Drench me in harmonies

Envelope me, blessed downpour

As I dance joyously, face toward the heavens

Soaking wet, simply happy
Cryss A Jones 2016

Copyright 2016

Writer’s Block and Grace

​I’ve been trying to write for days. Song, poem, chapter, web content …. My name…. NOTHING!  Late last night, I was inspired by a phrase, during a conversation, and knocked out a few stanzas, but no more. (Thx, JB).

I’ve been feeling independently of my senses, of late. I CAN’T STAND THAT! It’s like being numb and still feeling pain. ANYWAYS….

This morning, I wandered through my home, quietly praying, asking God what He wanted me to do and, moreover, if the answer was right before me. Earlier, I shared a black and white photo of people lined up at the Baltimore City Jail to post bail, for those arrested during the 1968 riots. I engaged in a conversation with someone about why we don’t see lines like that to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, PTA or Council meetings, etc. I also questioned whether or not I would line up for those things.

Heck, we don’t really even read anymore, we skim for specific words, to get the gist, etc. Wonder why we keep looking to the left, and the knockout punch is coming from the right. Honestly.

It really stuck with me, that photo. Men in suits, ladies in dresses and heels… Pride, commitment, sacrifice. I began to wonder if there weren’t some in line to pay bail for a neighbor, a cousin, someone they didn’t really know. Would I?

Back to the stroll around the house. (OK, I ate Thanksgiving leftovers, while contemplating). More thoughts of what an I supposed to be doing, in the greater scheme of the Kingdom of God. Then, I said “Cryss, if you can’t write, just read.” Enter Max Lucado “Shaped By Grace”. It was given to me as a gift, by a wonderful woman of valour, and I’d already read it, cover to cover. What a great blessing. I popped it open right to these passages:

***The meaning of life. The wasted years of life. The poor choices of life. God answers the mess of life with one word: grace.

We talk as if we know what grace means. Especially at Church. Grace graces the songs we sing and the Bible verses we read… Hymns proclaim it. Preachers explain it…

But do we really understand it?

… We’ve settled for a wimpy grace. It… never causes trouble or demands a response.

Have u been changed by grace? Shaped By Grace? Emboldened by grace? Softened by grace? Snatched by the nape of your neck and shaken to your sense by grace? 

… God’s grace comes after you. It rewrites you. From insecure to God secure. From regret-riddled to better-because-of-it….

Grace is the voice that calls us to change and then gives us the power to pull it off! (Lucado).

Back to the photo. Well, grace got me focused this morning. It said, “Cryss, it’s not that you can’t write, but you’re not writing what God needs you to write, right now.” Huh? Gwen Ifill’s legacy; your love for Journalism; the fact that you prefer writing to typing/texting, etc.; the fact that you still have stamps and envelopes, and you write to people; the fact that you love to read and research (find the facts); the fact that you feel the sprit of everyone in that picture;  the fact that every elected official had a USPS address, and you’re a hyper puppy, when writing (can u say bulk mail?); that you ALWAYS say a well-written and articulate letter can be very effective…. WOW! RIGHT IN MY FACE.

I may not be able to stand in a line, YET (beat it, fibro), but I have more pens and pads of paper than normal, an internet connection, a STELLAR BCC education,. SUPER intelligent and gifted folks all around me, and a heart for humanity. All that, AND GRACE…. It’s on.

Thank you, Lord, for not only giving me purpose and grace and mercy, but for renewing it daily.

There are too many issues out there that need to be tackled. If I can write a long post like this, or a funny joke, or post a news story I’m outraged about, it’s time I get into action. 

My action may not be there same as yours. Maybe you’ll go to council meetings, maybe you serve on the board of a change agency, maybe you have money to donate (DON’T FORGET #USA4Cryss lol), maybe you mentor and coach, maybe show up at schools regularly, randomly; not to police, but help…I don’t know, but it’s time for ME to stop letting the buck stop here in my Facebook feed. Care to join me? I’ve got plenty of writing utensils. Love u guys.

P.S. If I “disappear”, or anything else funky sounding, I finally wrote the right letter. FIND THE STORY. 😉

Starting the Day

​Good morning, ALL. As the old gospel song says ” It’s Another day’s journey, and I’m glad… so glad about it…I’m so glad to be alive. ” 

Thank You, Father, for allowing me into Your Holy Presence, once again. I am humbled; unworthy, save for the Blood of Jesus, The Christ. 

Where will You take me today,  Father? What wonders will You show me? I wait with Praise and Thanksgiving in my heart, and on my lips. What lessons will be learned, as I thirst for Your instruction? How can I do better today, than yesterday? 

How will I decrease, so that You might increase? That others see not me,  but YOU, working in me, and desire to know more of YOU?

However it goes, whomever I see/speak with, it will be ordained, because I ask that You go before me. Please lead and guide me, via The Holy Spirit. 

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in Thy sight, Oh Lord, my strength, my Redeemer. Bless us, and all that we put our hands, hearts, and minds to, today. That others will be blessed, as a result, and that You get the glory! In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen, and thank God. 

I love u all, no strings attached. Let’s do something PURELY altruistic, for someone, today (no matter how THEY may react), and tell no one.  Shhhhh……




Adventures With the Source

I was comfortable on my back; swaddled within a cocoon of nourishment, safety, and love. It was very dark, but I wasn’t afraid; although, sometimes I did feel a bit….restless, so I’d move around- always connected to the source . Every once in a while,  l would spontaneously move at the source, just to to say “I’m awake now”- to communicate. The source would connect. It caused a vibrating in my space, my liquid universe. It was pleasant, and I was still, again. 

The source would sometimes move me- gently, via these repetitive motions. Almost always the same. Pulling me in, pushing me away. In, out-in, out. 

There was always one constant…something . Measured and strong. Slow and controlled. Sometimes quickened, and again calm . It came from inside the source; it was connected to me, but peripherally. I had it, too,  but my “something ” was inside.  It always seemed to be hurried, urgent, asking to be noticed. How strange.  

I began to notice changes in my liquid environment. 

Things began to happen. New things.  Perpexing things- something else. I’d begun to shift, but not of my own volition. 

Soon, it became consistent-persistent. Swirling movements, some slow, others jerking me around at uncomfortable angles. The source seemed…different. There were times where I felt my ever shrinking liquid heaven being probed, invaded; not by the source.  How could this be? How interesting . 

The growingly claustrophobic atmosphere caused me to move in unfamiliar ways. Those things that were above me, were now to one side, or another. I found it difficult to be still.  So did the source.  It’s restlessness became mine. The area of my safe haven began to disappear at an alarming rate.  More shifting, more changing, more…me. The liquid, the cushion, the warmth…why was it leaving me, and what was the faint “thing” beginning to intrude?

There was so much me, now. Things unfamiliar , and just plain odd. One thing, once whole, seemed to now have segments, but was still attached to what was left of its whole. One on each upper side. How peculiar?

My largest part? Extra pieces had now sprung forth, but remained attached at angles; perpendicular, horizontal, vertical…all while the movement took on a defined pace. That probe was back this time, and that “thing” that caused discomfort to one of my new attachments was drawing ever closer. 

 More probing,  for longer, and more often. It caused me to move away, as it seemed to call me from my stillness. 

RETREAT! I wanted back to safety . I wanted back to the freedom of movement,  when I wanted to. I wanted the source to be calm. Stop moving, save me from the probing, stop this invasion. 
The source was frenetic in its energy. There were other things, too. More vibrations, but distinct to some of this new parts. The ones flanking my large part, faint, but discernible. The piercing of the two on the front of my large part, furiously trying to withdraw from that “thing”. I tried to process the acceleration of the loss of control, the loss of space, of reflexive movement…the probing, the now metered vibrations. WHAT IS THAT “THING”? Source, where is our calm? My liquid, it’s moving me into an even more restricted space. It doesn’t feel safe, anymore. I’m not warm. I’m not free. 

The things that grew on the sides of my large part were buzzing, but all around me, now. My front growths were screaming, those separted parts, still attached, were flailing, everything in an inverted frenzy.  Enough! I had to stop it all. I pushed one of the flailing parts against the source, noticing the severe lack of cushion, and the movement slowed. Huh. I summoned a higher attachment. BANG, right against source. Suddenly, the swirling, the juxtaposition of my reality, the probing, the hurried pace the warmth remembered and I, and my new parts, my strange and curious parts, stopped. We just STOPPED. WE WON !

So tight. Can’t shift back to the haven, and the liquid has abandoned me, as had the source. The source’s energy was furiously engaging me, propelling again, but with greater force, with the buzzing getting closer. The “thing”, that “THING”, and the probe, too , we’re almost at my whole, with all it’s part being pushed together.  The speed with which the whole moved…the probe,  it’s the probe. Source, how could you? How fascinating. 

Beat, beat, thump; buzzing, confusion, “thing” at fullness . Cold. Source? My whole expands again, probing everywhere! My pieces in the large part waking, the buzzing becoming…different. SOURCE!
Wait. The the constant. The peripheral connection. Where? How? I can’t feel the source’s constant. How odd? My whole still has its own. 

There’s something all over my whole. When probed, it…feels, whatever that is? 

Something on my large part, right in the middle…doing something rhythmic, along with my whole. Familiar, but no liquid. Sharp, harsh and cutting. More probing, too much of the “thing”, as its always here, now. At the bottom of my large part, just under the rhythmic middle partner of the whole, an opening. Can I go through there? Is that where the Source is, now? My liquid universe? Oh, no! It’s. ..it’s making me buzz, too. The pieces on either side of my large  part are startled. More involuntary move. …wait… beat, beat, beat. This IS new. It’s the SOURCE! But now, or thumps are disconnected . I feel it still, but through the covering. How puzzling? How warm. No liquid. But warm, rhythms in sync. Source will you stay with me always?

Te amo mater, mihi quo terrena.

Random Musings 11/14/2016

​Just because it’s skipping across my mind, like rocks across a pond:

-My name is Cryss,  and I’m a Facebook “over-tagger”. (“Hi, Cryss”). I have not over-tagged in the last 45 seconds. @CollPressCJ,  @WeBeatFibro,  @CMGMT)

-My Facebook feed is SOOOO out of whack,  I just heard Donald Trump won😭. Happy belated birthday to all I missed. REAL-TALK if there is something you want me to see in real-time, inbox, or tag me. Otherwise,  I’ll be answering you next week, about something grim last week. 


-I’m tired of correcting Auto Correct:

   I type “from”, I get “grim”(see above)

   I type “does”, I get “died”

   I type “parent”,  get “patent”

   I JUST typed “patents”, and got “pursuer”

Each time I type the word “word”, I get “weird”, then, I get weird. 

I type “Day”, it pops up “Jay-Z ” as an option…WTHAMFAT?

One embarrassing Buick(supposed to be quick) text, I was ranting about the”constitution “, it came out “prostitution “… didn’t know until I got the “huh?” response, and reread. Sent a Pastor a message about “fortitude”,  only it came out “fornication”. I still don’t think he believes it was a mistake…..

My mermaid (nemesis) the small work(word) (weird) “and”. Always gives me “abs”. Is this dime (some) kind of hint?

   Ok.  Dine(done) with that.

-Last night, I was intensely focused on what I was writing. So engrossed was I, that when the ice in my cup began to melt, and shifted,  I was almost out the front door, pen in hand. Lol.  I blame the movie 70’s horror movie “Phantasm “.

Thank you,  I’m here till Thursday. Tip your Servers.