MJS Creative Landing

Black Joy. Black Woman's Joy. What is it? I was discussing this with my cousin today. Ultimately we reduced it down to the universal substance of joy. Joy is Joy. How it comes about is not mutually exclusive to any tribe or any species. It is not like a petrified forrest fixed in place. It is spirit everywhere present and no one knows from where it blew in or when it will come again. Who even knows the exact nano second it departs from its host. Its packaging for some may be wrapped in timeliness such as finding a tiny island when you have been adrift at sea for days without rescue. Or being cured of some incurable disease because someone finally broke the code. Or a hand reaching out to give you a fist bump for a job well done. Or could it be the ending of a great novel or film that sums up everything in the story so perfectly. For others it could be delivered in the form of a spiritual that emerges from the depths of a despair that calls out in only the way lifted voices can. Thi...

Finding new gadgets to use for weary backs is a joy. I picked this shoehorn up from IKEA a few years back. Just recently I have began to use it when I put on my running or yard work shoes. It is one of the best things since sliced bread. My foot glides down the tool and floats into my shoe. When the job is accomplished, I always have a sense of joy. It is often the little things. Don't overlook the little things.

Almost over! Yes, this storm faces the light at the end of the tunnel.  Literal light. Sun light.  High light. Weather day highs and clear weather nights.  As bleak as it is the days to come will be brighter.  The days to come will bring budding tress, blooming flowers, and growing green blades of St. Augustine. The slow slush of ice and melting snow makes way for increased speeds. Cars will once again elbow one another jockeying for position for the two block stretch between green lights too soon turning yellow flights. Once again noises can careen from the event center across the street. Those echoed voices from the block will be less amplified for the deaden void is alive. Where problems rose to evident themselves returns absentminded dithering and mindless progress unfocused on the threat just ahead. No one will think as much as they thought the week before. No one will be so presently cognizant. But somehow they and we will be alright. It's gone be alright.