Pain and Gratitude

My hands are swollen from trying to massage the shoulder, clavicle, rib, elbow, hip, and low back pain away. BTW: I took my pain meds 2 hours ago, and have 10 hours, until I can take more. I will get worse, as the night progresses, because I’m in a Fibromyalgia flare up.

So, what’s the testimony? I praise God, in the midst of this agony, because He’s gotten me through before, and He’ll do it again! There’s NOTHING my Savior will do for me, that He won’t do for you. I lie in wait for my relief, and I KNOW it’s coming. Until then, Blanche, Rose and Sophia, Dorothy, and I will crack up, I’ll continue my intercessory prayers, as they take the focus off of me, and know that, Lord’s willing, I’ll know joy, in the morning.

“It won’t be as long as it has been.”
-Prettyface-Mommiekins

#BeEncouraged #Joy #Peace
#BeatingFibroOnePrayerAtATime
#YoureNotAlone
#GodLovesYou
#GodIsTheUltimatePromiseKeeper #NeverLoseHope

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Basketball: A Mind Game

I’ve been asked, many times, why I don’t watch basketball, or whether I even like it. I grew up watching BBall.

I have TWO reasons for not watching. Please do not think I’m not aware of the sheer talent in the league, since I watched. I am.

Reason#1

I LOVED the Boston Celtics’ fab five:
Larry Bird
Kevin McHale
Dennis Johnson (R.I.P)
Robert Parrish
Danny Ainge

The Celtics, the Lakers (Magic, Kareem, Worthy), The Pistons, The Jazz….THAT was worth watching. Lost interest, after the Olympic “Dream Team”, and those guys retired. Never to be duplicated.

Reason#2

I grew up with the greatest player never known; my brother, Larry. He was a young phenom. He was grace and granite, fluid, and steel, flight, wind, water, FIRE.
When I was about 5/6 years old, my brother went to the Youth Olympics. At Friendship Airport, now BWI-Thurgood Marshall, you could watch them board the plane, near the tarmac. He was so handsome, in his gold sports jacket (HOF-like), perfect fro, and killer smile. I was so excited, as he, and the other young men, boarded the plane. I waved frantically, yelling, clapping, shouting, “that’s my brother, my ‘stepping partner’ ( I got that name because he rarely got to leave the house without me attached to his leg)”. Funny thing happened…they closed the doors, and I could no longer see him. Prettyface-Mommiekins said we were leaving. Well that can’t be right. Where’s Larry? Why didn’t he come back, yet? We have to wait for him. How’s he gonna get home? My young mind could not process that he was not coming with us, or that he wasn’t gone, forever. In the words of Adele, I set FIRE to the rain, dropping to the ground, screaming, begging for my “brova”. REAL LONG NIGHT for my parents.

A knee injury took him off the fast-track to basketball history. BNBL(Baltimore Neighborhood Basketball League) wanted him, BADLY, and he was barely out of junior high.

In later years, my brother had gained a lot of weight, but still had a love for the game, so he joined a local group. They were all about 5-10 years his junior, and in great physical shape. The games were played at Lake Clifton H.S. One day, my sister-in-law, and my nieces went to a game. I hadn’t seen him play since I was a kid. As they began the coin toss, people began to say things: ” I know that fat guy isn’t playing”, “look at ‘Fat Albert”….they laughed, not knowing they were sitting near his wife, children, and sister.

The game began, and the derisive chatter grew into, “these boys gon run him into the ground”, “he’s gonna have a heart attack” (laughter), “he can’t hang”. We said nothing. The ball comes to Larry. To this day, I don’t know what he did, or how he did it, but he moved so fast, he had to catch his own rebound, as the others seemed to be standing still, trying to figure out what happened. He proceeded to do more of the same, throughout the ENTIRE game. The chatter turned to chants of “Go big man”, ” Fat Albert is schooling dem boys”. Yes, they won,thanks to my brother’s triple-double.
After the game, I asked HOW. You out-maneuvered them all.  He simply said, “finesse”. HUH? He further explained that the essence of the game is mental, and that the physical is merely the manifestation; the execution. Further, he taught me that you MUST ALWAYS know what your opponent will do, before they do. HUH? “I out-thought them, Tigger (that’s me).” Oh, I see. That advice has served me well.

Why is this on my head? It’s playoff time. In the spirit, I just watched a great documentary called , “Magic & Bird: A Courtship of Rivals, on HBO On Demand. It was awesome. It took me back to the airport tarmac, to the bleachers at Lake Clifton, to the reason I don’t watch; I’ve seen the best.

I miss you all day, every day, my Tommy💔😥🏀.

Why I Want to Meet Dave Chappelle

Why I want one hour with Dave Chappelle.
I often quote my second fave Philosopher, Heraclitus (Immanuel Kant #1), as having said, “All is flux. You cannot step into the same river twice.”
Turns out, not only I, but Plato misquoted this pre-Socratic Ephesian. His actual quote?
“In the same river we both step and do not step, we are and are not”.
Interpretation:
“…the world is in a constant state of change and, while one may step from the banks into the body of a river one has always known, the waters flowing over one’s feet will never be the same waters that flowed even a moment before.”

I am, indeed, evolving.

What does that have to do with Dave Chappelle? He’s become my favorite contemporary Philosopher, disguised as a Comedian. Many are; but Dave, his mask IS his masterpiece, because there’s really NO MASK (Cryss-ism). Geez I’m lucid this time of night😲. Anyhoo,

See his Netflix special
“Equanimity”
Not to be confused with the two released late last year. You’ll see what I mean, especially in the end.

#OneHourMrChappelle

Reflection Time

God has been so good. He’s shown Himself to me in ways I could not have expected. Mostly because I truly surrendered to Him. He’s held me, when trembled; He’s stretched me (and still is) when I thought I wasn’t good, or smart enough; He’s humbled me, when I thought I was in control; He’s given me joy, and peace, in the midst of my grief; He’s blessed me beyond anything I deserve. He steadies me, when I falter; He’s teaching me obedience, and self-worth, without arrogance; He’s met me in His Word. He’s made me understand what our Elders meant, when they would say, “try Him for yourself”. I have. It’s glorious. It’s tough. It’s wondrous. I’m less impatient, as I realize His timing is perfect. God IS the ultimate promise keeper. I am grateful. All that I do MUST BE ORDAINED BY GOD!

I’ve been reminded, yet again this year, that everything is temporal. If there’s ANYONE I’ve hurt, disrespected, angered, ticked off, let’s get it resolved. Inbox, email, call, semaphore… I know how to hear, listen and apologize.

I look forward to what God has in store, as I desire to move, and live in His will.
That said, I pray each of you, and your families are blessed with good health (across all life domains), and with prosperity, in the new year.
#2018 #GRATEFUL #GODLEDSPIRITDRIVEN

“Letters To My Father”

Well, I’m officially a published Author! I wrote a chapter in an anthology called, “Letters To My Father “.

Cathartic. Necessary. Exciting!!

It’s a wonderful start to my career as a published Author.

I’ll still publish the works of others, through Collective Press, but I’ve stepped into Authorship, and the water’s just fine.

The anthology is on Amazon, but I hope you’ll order direct from me, so I can your personally autograph your copy (just $20.)

http://www.paypal.me/CMGMT

It’s also formatted for Amazon Kindle.

I would appreciate reviews. Post them here.

Next up, “The Unlikely CEO “. Stay-tuned for the promo video.

Thank you for your support along this new leg of my journey.

Musical Musings 5/20/2016

Evening Musings:

I’ve been staring out the window at night a lot, of late. The sky replete with her wondrous and vivid mysteries. Our clandestine meetings…. Playing coy with her shades, her colors, muted, but breathtaking. Teasing. Beckoning. Speaking. What will she tell me, tonight?

The moon shouted my name across a cloud, reaching me as a whisper, saying things; haunting things; beautiful things. “What is music? “, I dared ask. It was the question on my mind. A star twinkled and made a discernible sound- the voice of a small child’s glorious giggle, peeking around the seemingly vanished embers of the sun.

“You tell me?” The voice searing lightly across constellations had countered. I searched my cerebral Thesaurus. I needed intelligent, mystical verbiage for this conversation, but nothing. “Come on! You’re smarter than this”, Crystal said to Cryss. I acquiesced, thinking, “maybe not”. The thing I love, the thing I crave, the thing that is…. I can’t find the words. The lexicon I loved had failed me.

A silent and melodic breeze played my vertical blinds like Brahms’ Lullaby. Lillith perched angrily by; a silenced Banshee, still stewing over the one she couldn’t get. The one covered in the Blood.

It started in my chest. A tickling, as buzzing sensation. Working its way through every nerve, every pore, every fiber; bone, cartilage, sinew- flowing like liquid joy.

You see, I was singing all along. We were singing a harmonious duet. Ah, sky, there’s your answer. See you tomorrow night.

Vizionairee Jones-2016