When my locs and I agreed to never part, I never knew love would set in and seal that deal tight. Following my return to college with my new do in Tañyi [Fall] 2011 Frank and I began a courtship of the highly unconventional sort.
And from that dance we did all about those chilly montañas came a forever calendar—my locs.
For more about my love life visit Frank & Egypt over at EgyptEnglish.com
“…then baby don’t fix it.”
I screwed up my facial routine. Sad, but true—I never gave it any thought until my face began to break out with acne spots here and there. Eh…but how? What did I do?
Well, call me old fashion, hippie or what have you, but I left out my good ‘ole cold cream, coconut oil, and shea butter because I got so caught up with my new CocoaButterMothers Goddess Glow Hydrating Beauty Oil.
Maybe a little over a month and a half ago, King and I had the pleasure of dinner, law talk and good vibes with the lovely Desirée Venn Frederic of the world renowned Nomad Yard Collective and friends. After dinner, Queen gifted me an array of products she uses as well carries in Nomad Yard. Well, me—being the kid in a candy store type—I get home with all my new goodies and go wild with my try-on sessions.
I was in love with everything right from the start…well, except for the “Earth Matter” Natural Deodorant Paste—that took quite some time to get used too. Nevertheless, after my trial and error, Earth Matter is definitely a keeper.
So, when I started using the Hydrating Oil I literally quit all of my other regiments. *Dunce* …seriously, no one told me to quit them, I just got so distracted by how glowy my skin looked after applying the oil. So, about a month into the use I started realizing the nippy Autumn weather was causing my face to feel super dry even with the hydrating oil. The latter started to cause my skin to appear discolored in spots. And of course, we can’t forget the adult acne. All, no-no’s.
So a week of breakouts was more than enough for me to start looking for a solution. I went down the list of the usual culprits like nutrition, stress, menstrual cycle, etcetera—but none of that seemed to be causing the madness.
Then while unpacking my travel bag one day this week—which has been packed for a bit over a month now— I found my exfoliating brush and my cold cream…and that’s when it dawn on me how much I had missed those two.
The first thing I did after throwing my travel bag to the side like a redheaded stepchild—
I’d say it worked! After two days of being back on track with my routine, with the Hydrating Oil added, my acne has begun to subside, my skin tone is evening back out and my face remains hydrated and mosturized—even in this crazy and oh so unpredictable weather.
—Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥
Don’t question why she needs to be so free
She’ll tell you it’s the only way to be
She just can’t be chained
To a life where nothings gained
And nothings lost, at such a cost
—Ruby Tuesday, The Rolling Stones
Nadira Shula Sayyida, or Rare Flame Leide [Lady], is what I consider my spirit’s chosen nomen. I accepted the name and its spiritual resonances around this time back in Tañyi of twenty-thirteen. At that point in life and two years deep in love, my King and I were finally beginning to shape together a concrete future with each other. Subsequently, our spiritual lives had just begun a dramatic and somewhat catastrophic shifting of the unusual sorts.
It was as if all at once we were both hurled face first into an abyss of ever-expanding knowledge, enlightenment, and emotions.
Furthermore, it was at that point that I began embarking on a journey back to self, back to oneness, back to infinite love—and although King’s journey was happening simultaneously parallel to my own, believe you me, our two worlds looked grotesquely avant-garde. From ominously pleasant dreams to straight-up wtf nightmares and secularly biblical revelations our lives went so far left …or right—eh, regardless in the great big sea of life we’ll just say we were tossed and driven by relentless waves many, many times. And in the midst of it all, we were forced to pause—to meditate on life, past, present, and future.
Out of our pause came new names —and those are not to be confused with our native nomens and appellations, our throne names, or our stage names. No, Nadira Shula Sayyida, is the name my spirit chose to insure I, my spirit and my soul, remain anchored in who I am, what I am, and why I have returned to earth plane this lifetime.
You’re just not there yet …
Existence hangs in a constant balance of every cycling cycles—life begets death, death births life…youth begets old age, and old age prepares the way for youth.
As we grow, mature and attempt to make a life for ourselves we’re often faced with underestimation from the generations who’ve preceded us. You know, the age old “you’re too young to understand” or my not-so-favorite favorite “when you get to be our age you’ll understand.”
I love the way they marvel, yet spat—at our inability to conform to a society of old standards, ways and thoughts of living, as if we are not a new generation, birth from the wombs of mothers of what is now the old struggle. Mothers, and fathers who are now accustomed to sporting their years of plumage in a world now teeming with hyperactive ugly ducklings covered in ruffled and half-plucked feathers.
—Biwa & Andestagōnwa ♥
breath, cold fog. 44th street.
underneath the scaffolding. we run. Just 3 petals falling faster than the others off a wet black
NYPD. No one knows for sure the answers to our questions. They all just keep pointing
us further and further away from the great sparkly spear. Telling us we won’t we can’t
make it. All the roads are closing. At 47th Officer Mike said “if you run . . .
you just might see it” — a photo op for our bucket list, so it’s not fuck all the police
and further we run. 54th street.
Barricades we don’t run right through ‘em. Shift left, shift right, underneath support beams,
ladders anybody superstitious yet? We scream for a friend that doesn’t exist.
Makes us look like we have purpose.
59th we made it? It’s still—open. But full of faces, some don’t like that we’re impatient
Some don’t like that we won’t wait. Many don’t get that we’re on a mission—
that’s not impossible?
They refuse to understand some part of us is better than what we’re seen in passing on the
streets. They don’t get that we
don’t care about what some don’t comprehend. Cause the little liberty in front of the
Rockefeller tree never gave us anything in our dreams. Just false hopes from a vision that was
always unclear. And here we were chasing another.
A chance of a lifetime . . . one to see a giant orb. Fall for what? Havoc! Cause
that’s what we’re reeking of. “Officer! She has asthma . . . we have to get 4 blocks down”
Fuck him he’s in our way, taking up valuable time. So we run, before he can think to stop
us. we jump. Leaving our wretched stench on the other side of fence number 4
On 7th street in the midst of thousands of people we saw. it. In all its vim and vigor. Zoom
is a marvelous creation. All that looks glorious . . . clearly just knows where to shop.
The countdown began. 10
8, 7. . .We got lost.
Lost in the numbers. The voices.
Never saw the shiny marble
drop. and it was over. But for a second,
back at fence three,
we swore we heard Lady Liberty snickering through the streets as we laughed. (more…)