Apr 22, 2015


Be thankful for the little things, it will make the big things that much sweeter.

D.B.S.Rhapsody©all rights reserved

Apr 13, 2015


Friday I walked 6 blocks to the library to pick up a book THE MAN WITHIN I put on hold for a series I am reading call BREEDS by Lora Leigh. The roads to the library are closed for the next 3 weeks due to streetcar rail replacement construction and the only way to get there is by foot, so off I went. Never the patient type when it comes to books I had already begun the series and skipped over this one Volume 2 as there were no digital copy from the library.

Reading a series out of order is a big no no for my eldest daughter who believes I should read the series in order. I had already read volumes 1, 3, 4, 6, 9 and started 7 & 8. My response to her horrified outrage? Yeah yeah, yadda, yadda, yadda, (rolling the eyes) whatever .

So, I arrived at the library, checked out the book and headed toward home. I stopped and asked the construction man where to pick up the bus going to Spadina Subway in light of all the detour due to the major construction I didn’t want to go wondering around. He said, "oh just up North one block and you can catch the bus." One block turned out to be 4 blocks.

As I finally neared the active stop I noted a Caucasian gentleman mid to late thirties with white earphones in his ear walking South to my North a short distance away. Ever diligent I became more alert as I noticed and shifted more to the right to make room for him to walk along left. However, instead of staying to the left he shifted right directly in my path. I thought, ‘no biggie’. I adjusted and shifted to the left. again he shifted directly in my path, he kept doing so until he was arms length in front of me. I moved to the right. Laughing he blocked my path while trying to look and sound innocent. I was not laughing. I did not know this man from a hole in the wall. I said, "back off!" He says, "what?" Grinning foolishly. I said more firmly, "BACK OFF!" Again he laughs coming closer. I thought, ‘hell no’ I back up a bit as he says again, "what!" pretending not to hear me or understanding what I was saying.

I quickly realized I needed to get serious fast. I took a deep breath and in a more serious tone that carried my intent, I shouted,  "MOVE!" with a roar. He jumped and quickly moved to his my left and walked quickly down the sidewalk without look back.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and laughed to myself as I replayed my response thinking, ‘Lord give me strength.’ I walked the rest of the way to the bus stop, boarded and may my way home.

red lilies

Apr 2, 2015


Have you ever had someone tell you “get over it?” They just fling those three words at you, sometimes in judgment, disgust, exasperation, or in a well intentioned effort to help you move on without really having a clue as to the depth of your issues and they only succeed in making you feel worst?

You know why you feel worst, because on some level you know there is some truth to what they have said regardless of delivery (how they are say it) and that is why it hurts so much (even if they don’t have all the facts and know the whole story). Therein lies the discomfort, the reasons for the defensiveness, resistance, distance and perpetulance because you are locked in, you are stuck and feeling like you can’t to get above the experience, the hurt.

Sometimes in life we get stuck, stuck in the past. Stuck in a point in time that is was impactful enough that it hinders your progress or slows it to a degree that you feel like you are standing still while the world goes by. This I call “The boom shift” the point of impact, the implosion, the wounding of the “I” that creates the crisis of “self”, “the monkey cling”, you know—the shit that sticks/emotional baggage. It colors the way in which you see yourself, the way you see, articulate and relate to the world around you. Not everyone can just shake that monkey and keep it moving.  

We are all different and hence we all process our experiences diversely. While it is important to deal with past negative experiences that created a shift in character and personality that can contribute to being stuck it is also important that we don’t maliciously trample upon others feelings in our zest to help them “get over it” because you may be creating more wounds and doing more harm than good.

Getting over is not easy, shame and guilt are heavy tasks masters that gives no quarter and takes no prisoners though journey to conquer ones demons is well worth the triumphant peace that is sure to follow because we all deserve to be free of the negative bondage of the past.


Check your mouth before you let things go falling out and ask yourself this, are you speaking from your own context or are you standing in the context of the person to whom you are speaking in order to really grasps what they are sharing, have experienced and what they are asking?

Bear in mind, when someone shares their story with you, It’s not about what you would do, IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU! It’s about them, where they are at and what they are feeling and how they are attempting to sort it out if that’s what they are asking. If you cannot do that, if you cannot prevent yourself from making it about you, then do them a favor, delicately shut it down.

Note: If you consent to listening to someone’s story, consult your head, heart and intention before you go doling out advise, solicited or unsolicited and be mindful that you may not “know” the whole story and there may be levels and depths to which you don’t understand, have a clue or are ill equipped to deal with.

For those of you “getting over” be patient with yourself, be gentle with yourself, be real with yourself, be willing to see the truth as is even though its hard to sallow and digest, to face it, own the pieces that are yours to own, learn to come to terms with and let go of the ones that are not yours to hold and understand through it all, you are enough and you are worthy.

D.S.B.S.Rhapsody©All Rights Reserved.


Mar 23, 2015


One Month was originally shared on Honoring Ossie, a blog dedicated to his memory.
Saturday March 21st marked one month (30 days) since my cousin Ossie’s departure from this physical world. Though we, the loved ones left behind to deal with the hole his absence created we know that he is in a better place. He is in a place void of human suffering, the endless physical, emotional and psychological pain he had to endure as a result of his valiant battle with stage 4 nasopharyngeal cancer.  Five years he soldiered on, he fought, he won, he triumph, he stood tall and he ran when he could barely walk. He knew his time was near and came into acceptance long before any of us could, or would. He took his final steps into glory and face death head on. I wonder if I’d have that courage.
I am past the pain of disbelief. I now vacillate between numbness, brief forgetfulness and acceptance. Life goes on, not even pausing for his last breath, the clock never stopped to acknowledge his passing. People were laughing, animated while he lay still dying. They were planning their lives, celebrating, acknowledging, affirming, and clueless to the deafening silence of the nothingness of his pending nonexistence as he closed his eyes to the permanence of eternal muteness.  I laid in my bed listening to the sounds of life around me, living and resenting the interplay of conversations, of the resonance of joy spilling over and bouncing off the paper thin walls, of the music playing loudly next door as they partied. Life goes on as death walks in and stakes its claim.
I am perplexed by death. I am vexed by death. I am battling a tumultuous array of feelings as I am strangely unenthusiastically grateful to death with its swift merciful hand snatching away unbearable insurmountable pain and suffering. I am defiantly reluctant to acknowledge and willingly deny knowing death, though it’s not a stranger.
Death is the uncomfortable familiar that barges into every room, every place, every house, and every space uninvited not caring for an invitation or waiting for a greeting or an introduction. It cares not for formalities nor does it discriminate to please, ease or appease.  I know I will face death one day, it’s inevitable. I pray that I have the courage Ossie did, to face it and say I am ready, lead the way.3d Dpve
Rest in peace cous, God speed.

Mar 21, 2015


Emma Haslam plus size pole dancer enthusiast from Derby England smashing fitness stereotype on Britain’s Got Talent by showing through her routine that consist of her swinging her plus size around the pole and hanging upside down held up only by her legs that she is not limited by her size.

Seeing her do her thing made me want to slam the mic down on the ground and yell, “BAM, Challenge!” even though I don’t have a damn mic. I watched the whole routine in opened mouth awe realizing a startling truth. We all in some ways internalized the negative stereotypes of plus size people and limit them in our own minds assigning them tasks they can and cannot do.

Isn’t it interesting that “we” all in some way resist stereotypes that categorize us into neat little boxes limiting our potential and yet we apply those same methods to fat (plus size) people without their consent and then are overly critical and vexed when they smash right through them?

Mar 17, 2015


I have this little phobia about dark drinks where you are not able to see straight through to the bottom. If I cannot see the bottom of it, I don’t want it. The only other alternative is a glass. I will pour it into a glass and examine the bottom of the bottle or can before consuming it. Think am paranoid after reading about my phobia well not me. I have learnt that some healthy paranoia can go a long way. Don’t believe me, read on and you tell me.

Today I was in the grocery store next to my house just perusing the isles for specials when I encountered a Caucasian couple standing by the soft drinks area. As i stood checking the fruits I overheard their conversation. They were discussing the best selection of soft drinks. Some reading this will say none as soft drinks have no nutritional value but hey people will choose what they will choose that is the beauty of freedom of choice. But I digress.  

Where was i? Oh yeah, they were engrossed in the discussion of pop selection when I heard the husband say, “no, absolutely not. I don’t want anything dark, we can take the cream soda, sprite, gingerale, or 7 up but I don’t want any coke and I especially don’t want Pepsi.” The wife nodded her head.

pepsiAs I was proceeding past them the husband looked at me and said. “If I can’t see the bottom I don’t want it.” To which I answered, “You preaching to the choir, am the same way.” He then elaborated by saying, “last month I bought a 6 pack of Pepsi and two had shit in it. I stopped abruptly immediately grimacing as he continue to express his conviction, “I will NEVER, NEVER, EVER drink a Pepsi again, or pick up a drink where I cannot see the bottom of it.”

Taking my leave I said bye to the couple and grimace again as a shiver ran through my body. I shook my head to rid my mind of the image, of course it didn’t work as  I kept thinking ‘eeewwwww’ while chanting in my head, ‘oh yuck, yuck, I didn’t need to know that, ahhh!' I didn’t need to know that, yuck,’ as i bemoaned, ‘now I can’t UN-know.’

So call me paranoid if you like. I will proudly wear the banner.  in case you were wondering, yes I pour clear drinks in a glass before drinking if it comes in a can where I cannot see to the bottom.

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