The Voices Of Our Ancestors

QBag, qpoc, Queer, qwoc

Live today…through the vibration of the drum.

All, of our ancestors.” -Voodoo Honey “Elegua” check it out it’s on SoundCloud.

Peace.

So. Im learning that even tho Twitter is so benevolent amd gives me the option to keep adding characters forever and ever ahmen… that don’t mean write a goddamn blog on twitter.com. no. No, Syn. That is the reason amazing sites like WordPress exist, lol. So. I’m gonna do my best to not post long ass shit on Twitter and actually show my blog the love she deserves. Yes, she is a woman. Because duh…women are smarter and superior. The Goddess made it so. Not even a debate.

So. I came here for this:

I’ve never played drums professionally…I’ve probably only played on an actual set of drums…maybe 3 or so times in this life. However. The drum and I…we have an impenetrable bond, I can’t even deny. More so the sound and the vibrations of the drum. I can definitely give thanks to my ancestors from the Ivory coast to the Caribbean for this connection.

I am in pure love with the drum; my ancestors made ours out of goat or sheepskin…& I remember as a kid how my fingers felt the first time I held one. The vibration as I tapped away…it felt as though my hands and my fingertips had done that many times.

& Now as an adult, I can recognize + acknowledge the specific ways that we are always connected to our roots. Give thanks. I always wondered why I was always creating every surface I touched into a drum, lol. I still kinda do. Ok I do…a lot. I can’t help it, & neither would I want to. As they say #veryconnected (got that from The Very Black Project on Instagram) but I love it because it’s so true. No matter how far away i move, what country I wind up in, what city…I’m always and forever connected to my roots and I love that. Hella grateful. Give thanks.

Yeezy 18’s

Lesbian, LGBTQ, qpoc, Queer, qwoc

I’m going to attempt to watch something funny. One of my favourite shows. Something that would make me smile, cry real tears  (not just emoji ones) of laughter and remember how much of a gift it is to be able to laugh (Shout out to Mindy Kaling and the Mindy Project. Its hilarious). A gift to feel and experience joy. Happiness. All of the moments are precious. Don’t count them, but make them count (I feel like that last line is a real quote from someone 🤔)

Damn. Death sure has a way of kicking you in the balls; actual or strapped on ones-don’t matter you get the reference.

But shit. If someone kicks you in the balls (I’m assuming & also going by countless cinematic scenes where the cis gendered dude seems to be in excruciating pain 🎬) you probably deserved it? Bc who does that to someone w/o reason? (Aside from men 🙄)

Am I saying that when someone dies that we deserve to experience death/loss/grief in that way? No. That would be hella idiotic and quite a problematic statement.

What I’m saying izzzzz: We deserve to live. To remember to live, while we are here.

We deserve to be loved fully, wholly as ourselves and to give/return that same love to others. We deserve to experience the full, infinite magnitude and spectrum of love and to be in relationships that nourish & nurture us. We are here for the experience of life and living.

Nothing like a new ancestor to remind your ass to grab life by the horns (shout out to my Uncle, a Taurus, my mum and all my bulls 🤘) & make your experience reflect your authentic expression.

Passion. Love. Life is living.

Goddess, bless the dead

and

bless the mortals still alive, who are playing dead…the walking dead.

Love to you in your moments. Life. The gift. Open up.

– Syn El Sol ☀