A Passion for Words

I have been so blessed by the relationships I've formed here in this virtual home of mine and in others like it. One blogger describes it this way, "I think you attract the people whose heart sings along with yours." That's it. That's it exactly. I've made friends whose hearts sing along with mine. When I was thinking about passionate living and using my blog to explore it further, my mind naturally turned to all the wonderful, passionate women I've come to know. Being the Nosey Parker that I am, I wanted to know what they thought about passionate living, too. Joining me on my month-long journey will be a series of guest bloggers. Come along with us, meet my amazing friends, spend a while, and see what we have to say. Won't you join us? ~ Relyn


First up, meet Christina of Soul Aperture.

I am so over the moon to be a guest blogger here today. Come sit by my fire is a favorite place for me to kick off my shoes and stay a while. When my dear friend, Relyn, asked me to blog about a passion of mine, I immediately thought of photography. Oh... how I love being behind my lens. I do have another love, though, that lives inside of me. I have a secret love for words. Yes, I do! Whether these words are in books, written on a sidewalk in chalk, in a love letter, spray painted on a train, or sung in a song. I love words! When I read your blogs, I positively melt.

Words can be powerful! The spoken word can cut like a knife, or be whispered gently through prayer.

When I find words that dance across a page in a good book, call it a day. I could very well find a comfortable chair and read the whole day away.

Just last night Piri Thomas stretched his hand toward me inviting me to walk with him. ~ Down These Mean Streets.

My mother was young when I was born. She wasn't able to provide all the necessities I needed as a little girl, but there were always books in our house. Bliss! The love affair begins.

I would lie next to my mother and listen to her read me fairy tales before bed. She would warn me that this was the last story she could read to me or she would be late for work.;) Saturday mornings were best. We would spend most of the morning slaying dragons, huffing and puffing, visiting with Beatrix Potter, dipping our fingers in honey pots and tasting porridge.

My mother smelled like sweet cotton candy and loved to dance to Roberta Flack albums with me. I felt like such a big girl when she would gently share the words of Langston Hughes, Stephen Biko, Ralph Ellison, e.e. cummings, and Nikki Giovanni. Nikki was her absolutely favorite! I didn't know what type of spell these words had over me, but I would twirl to the beat of her passionate voice as she read these beautiful words with vigor.

Don't want to be near you for the thoughts we share but the words we never have to speak. ~ Nikki Giovanni

When I went to live with my grandmother, I would take my cotton candy scented books out and read them from beginning to end. The smell drifted past my face, sitting on the thick musical notes that danced in my thoughts. Roberta Flack was killing me softly.

Books were a place I could hide, gain strength, travel through the pages, learn different languages, go back in time.

Be the change you want to see in this world. ~ Gandhi

Dear Judy Bloom, Margaret was my best friend!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? I know I wasn't the only kid in the hood crushing on William Shakespeare. ;) Wink.

J.D. Salinger, are you out there? Remember when I giggled to your Catcher in the Rye under the covers with a flashlight? Shhh...

John Updike, you made me blush, for real!

When I was 18, I moved to the East Coast. I heard a rapper spit his lyrics, up close. I truly believe my palms touched the sky.

Hip-Hop, you the love of my life. ~ The roots

Say love, come over here, called Rumi off a shelf one day in the West Indies. Say huh, I thought. I will translate for you, the book promised. I spent my last $13.00 on that Rumi book. I never regretted it. I began a journey of peace that day.

You are the sky my spirit circles in, the love inside of love, the resurrection-place. ~ Rumi

Poetry is a gift from the angels, I once thought.

Thank you, Maya Angelou, I now know, why a caged bird sings.

I have eagerly run the tip of my finger down the words of a recipe, in a cookbook-- Shouted hallelujah, with my hand on the book of God... I can never get enough of the Word(s)...

Recently, I was blessed to photograph Nikki Giovanni. She allowed me to listen to her beautiful, new words. I was honored. Almost 30 years later, her words touched me, just as much as they did a twirling 9-year-old girl.

It was the coolest thing in the world to share these words and photographs with my mother and my kids. It was as though my passion for words had come full circle.

I *love* you. Still the most powerful three words in the world to me.

Thank you for having me, Relyn. It was a blast. ;)

Words and photograph by Christina of Soul Aperture.