5 herbs for men, women & children.

Do you know which of the herbs on my list this is?

I'm just leaving the list and a few notes, in the hopes that anyone who might happen upon this and find an interest piqued will be inspired enough to some more digging.  This is important because not every herb is for every person, and it's important to be aware of possible contraindications before using a particular herb.  This is one area, like most, where it can be said that the more you discover, the more you can use.  It is also important to note that not all herbs are appropriate for use in all people.  Conditions such as pregnancy or diseases such as cancer can turn herbs that heal in many cases into herbs that can potentially create dangerous or otherwise undesirable situations in others.  For example, the hops flower, as you will read below, is an extremely valuable herb for women, but it should not be taken by men because its estrogenic and sedative properties can have a depressive effect, especially on the libido.  So it is important to rely on multiple sources and be thorough in all research, paying special attention to dosages recommended course lengths.  Consider seeking the advice of a professional herbalist, homeopath, naturopathic doctor, midwife, or other kind of holistic health practitioner whenever possible.  And yeah, you can try an allopathic doctor or nurse, provided they can respect your desire to treat yourself originally (my usage, as opposed to traditionally), and back that up with some professional attention.  Again, he more you discover, the more you have to choose from to make an informed, safe and effective decision for your health.  So here's the list!

fight the feeling.

Life is like surfing. I know this because I watched that movie Blue Crush like, mad times, and because I am one of the five people who thought John from Cincinatti was a totally awesome show (that number includes my dad, my brother, and two open slots for people I haven't met yet but will probably totally click with if I ever do). Watching people surf on a television or computer screen, I am always struck with the thought that these are people who fully understand my relationship with anxiety. Surfing is a little bit like going on and on about the calm before the storm, or the calm within the storm, and then going outside to do an overstated rain dance to illustrate your point. The ocean and its waves, for a moment, seem almost under your command, and  you are like a little fish with a big name: Poseidon. For just a few of those precious seconds that feel like hours, you live up to your name.

At least that's how it looks from the shore (read: couch). The wave that curls over its rider and yet somehow fails to swallow her is so perfect, and seems deceptively gentle -- it is almost possible to imagine that this is an isolated gift, completely disconnected from the rest of the ocean and the forces that created it. But then it crashes, she crashes, I crash, wave becomes sea, horizon connects and there is nothing so lonely as being tossed about and spit out.  We crash.

Sometimes I am riding the wave, and sometimes I am on my hands and knees in the wet sand, coughing while I scoop handfuls of sand out of my bathing suit.

more nerdy dictionary haiku. part ii.

Exercise is good for your heart and mind.


9.21.2010
I'm just a parcel
of this brogdingnagian
love.  You are the rest.

9.22.2010
baby eyes wide with
unanswerable freedom
I stare back, agog.

9.23.2010
it was only a
dream; a slick, diaphanous
blink consultation

9.24.2010
only her red mouth
blew a frabjous air into
this hard heart of night

9.25.2010
observe the patient
proven masculinity
brash hobbledehoy

9.26.2010
ask the aeons.  let
wonders cease if they promise
to be nice and brief.

a black girl grows in princeton.

In case the title of this blog doesn't make this clear, I grew up in Princeton, New Jersey.  I lived there with my mother, father, brother and for a large part of the time, two beagles named Ashleigh and Copper.  To say I had a good childhood is a gross understatement; I had an incredible childhood.  I was loved, and learned to love, in a safe, nurturing, information-rich environment that I have come to realize was an incredible blessing that fills me with a resolve to make and give something equally or more incredible of myself so all I've been given won't have been given in vain.  That said, on some level, everyone's childhood sucks.  Meaning, growing up is hard no matter what you have or don't have.  We all carry our burdens and to some measure our success as adults is predicated on how well we travel above and beyond the not at all accidental accidents of our births.  So here is a story about how an awesome childhood has its moments, and how who I am now wouldn't be here without each and every one.


When I was somewhere around 9 or 10 years old, I went furniture shopping with my mother and one of her best friends.  I remember that I was wearing jean shorts, a t-shirt and one of my brother's old Laker's hats.  I was also wearing my glasses, as I would continue to until my prayers for contacts were finally answered during the summer before 8th grade.  I don't remember how I felt about the shopping; I was somewhere in between those ages when spending time with mom is either at the top or the bottom of your list of things to do.  Knowing the kind of kid I was, I think I was probably happy enough to find a comfortable chair to sit in while they shopped so I could read my book in peace.  


My memory is fuzzy, but one of them must have made a purchase, because on our way out we had enough time at the counter for the saleswoman to make a completely ridiculous and embarrassing comment that I can now only hope she meant as a compliment.  She studied me as I stood in between two full-grown adult women I would soon be taller than, her face quizzically scrunched as if trying to come up with an appropriate remark.  I admit this is hard to do when the subject of your virtually thoughtless comment is a black child caught in that unspeakable quagmire of black childhood -- not quite old enough to be strikingly beautiful and not  quite young enough to be cute.  Finally she lit up and made the common mistake of speaking when the only thing you have to say will reduce you to exactly what you are and not at all in a good way.  She said:


Oh!  He looks just like Spike Lee!


And then she beamed.  

haiku inspired by dictionary nerds day one.

9.20.2010
scorned imago of
an adulthood wasteland love
was simpler back then

(Since this is the first installment of this particular series, let me say I am attempting to write a haiku using the Dictionary.com word of the day, every day.  Which will probably soon transcend into "every once in awhile," which is why I decided against compiling them weekly & blogging about them in that way.)

Enjoy!