Monthly Archives: October 2012

And then… [POEM]

And then….

And then
there will be something else
something more
something harder
more requiring
more challenging
that hurts
and then you will have to go
and keep going
because there is no other way
to make sense of it
or to stop it
and then
the distractions
the delays
the doubts
the distance
the decisions
that you must consider
and then
the devil
that you blame
that keeps trying to stop you
from stopping him
because you could
stop him
if you wanted to
because you’re bigger
because faith is bigger
than whatever is not faith
even the biggest thing
is smaller than the smallest faith
and you tell yourself that
and then
someone says you’re crazy
because you believe
when they say you shouldn’t
because they couldn’t
because somebody told them
that they wouldn’t
and then
they take a seat
to watch you
and then you do
right onto your purpose
your destiny
on purpose
and someone is watching you
for an example
and you don’t see them
all you see is in front of you
and you try to focus
on that
and then
more of
the distractions
the delays
the doubts
the distance
the decisions
that you must consider more
in order to keep fighting
in order to keep living
because living is your fight
living is why you fight
so you ready for war
and then
someone smiles
someone special
someone who doesn’t see
the war
only that you’re fighting
and they ask why
and you don’t know what to say
so you smile back
holding back tears
and the pain
and the frustration
and the problems
because you don’t want them
to see the worse that is to come
because you want them
to have a bigger faith
a better faith
and then
you realize that
there is no different faith
just faith
and so you smile back
to reassure them
that help is on the way
in spite of
the distractions
the delays
the doubts
the distance
the decisions
that they must consider
while they fight
while they live
and then
it happens again
because it always happens again
whether you’re ready or not
because it doesn’t need you
to be ready
it just needs you
to be.


©Cornelious M. Flowers III



Sometimes the one you love
is not the one you love
but instead the one you want
and they know that
but they want to be wanted
and so they allow you to love them
because they need you to validate
that they matter
because you need them to validate
that you have feelings
or that you tried to
or that you cared
or that you tried to
or that you showed up
or that you tried to
when no one else would
or when the one they wanted to
and that is just love
doesn’t make much sense
but it makes people happy
or makes them want to be happy
and gives them this feeling
that some people think is happiness
even though it hurts
even though it forces you to give up
for the right thing
because the wrong thing makes sense
love makes the wrong things make sense
because love makes sense of everything
especially the things that don’t
so you do the stupid
selflessly selfish
stupid selflessly selfish
because of love
because it feels right
even when you know it’s not

and sometimes the one you love
is not the one you love
just the one who makes you feel good
or bad enough to make you feel
something like you’re wanted
something like this.


©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III


liFE ARrives

liFE ARrives…

“In the middle of our journey is where acknowledging and surrendering to any “fear” is most dangerous. Life is going to come at you , from many angles, at different times, spontaneously, … YOU HAVE TO LIVE, knowing that YOU are BIGGER than ANY problem because YOU are a child and created in the image of GOD, THE BIGGEST ADVANTAGE over ANY thing that comes your way.



Running out time.

“People will usually begin to make the right choices when the wrong options cease to exist.”

Today’s -see


I look at life through my eyes, through my experiences, through my perspective, and through my struggles. Inadvertently I end up holding people responsible to the standard and expectations of my joy, my pleasure, my happiness, my peace, and my hopes because I have always and continue to see what is possible. I’ve seen miracles happen. I’ve seen change come about. I’ve seen “dead” things come alive. I have been exposed to so many different variants of life and living and I have been subjected to acknowledging the particulars and specifics of those who “live” these spaces with an access that is quite interesting, to say the least. It is an arduous task to justify why it all makes “sense” to me but I guess, no I’m sure, that’s my purpose of sort, to make it clear for someone who may not.

“Excuses are poor means of self-pity.”
– My junior high science teacher, Mr. Vereen

Mr. Vereen used to ALWAYS say this to us in response to almost ANY explanation as to why something was not done upon his request or to his specifications. Any thing that was contrary to his will and way was an excuse, or so he seemed to imply, and that gave his students and students that were not his and even some teachers the impression that Mr. Vereen was mean. Something about him was rather cool to me, but he was a jerk! He was certain or so it seemed that he was right or he “knew” he was right and that made everyone consider his “rightness”.

I don’t remember how well or how not well I did in his class. I don’t remember much of or about his teaching methods or anything else that he said other than that quote -that because I have not googled it yet I attribute to him- and the frequency to which he used it. Very important words though.


Self-pity- (From Wikipedia)

Self-pity is the psychological state of mind of an individual in perceived adverse situations who has not accepted the situation and does not have the confidence nor ability to cope with it. It is characterized by a person’s belief that he or she is the victim of events and is therefore deserving of condolence. Self-pity is generally regarded as a negative emotion in that it does not generally help deal with adverse situations. However, in a social context, it may result in either the offering of sympathy or advice. Self-pity may be considered normal, and in certain circumstances healthy, so long as it is transitory and leads to either acceptance or a determination to change the situation.


As I go about these days, these “new” days, these days that are all about this “new” me, this different me, this “knowing” me that I am coming to recognize and know for myself, I am increasingly, rapidly becoming aware of just how “messed up” some of my actions and words were. I am beginning to learn just how severe some of the extremes of my personality had damaged my opportunities and relationships. I am being forced through the transition of my growth process to recollect on my methods and motives that I used to accommodate the comfort levels that were necessary for me to maintain my leverage and position in the mediocrity that gated me inside of the walls of my suffering. I’m busting out of it now.

And in freedom is where I truly recognize my “prison”.

I was talking to a friend recently who was giving me a detailed account of a situation that “seems” to be destroying her family right now. For arguments sake I do understand that there is ALWAYS more than one version and perception of a story and with that in mind I do not jump to conclusion in assuming which side may be right or wrong. The story that she was telling me though is eerily similar to a predicament that one of my family members is currently in and at the same time I have another friend who is in the same “place” with his life. Hearing these stories is not new to me because I am accustomed to being told others “life story” and issues because I am the latter part of the self-pity definition, I give great sympathy and advice for others, to others, just not so much, before this point, to myself. I also believe that one of the reasons that I hear these stories is my belief in the “spirit” of things. Most of the things that are presented to me I am somehow, somewhat familiar with or experiencing and I offer to suggest that the Law of Attraction is very much real, the energy of your spirit gravitates to and attracts into your life things that are your “vibrations”. So the issues that I’m presented with are just Thea reflections of my presentation. I will keep getting the broken people as long as I stay broken.

“We are cooking with grease NOW!”
-My step-dad.

I’ve come to believe that a great number of people who decide to get married do so because there is a such thing as divorce. They know going in that they have an out. Because they have an out they don’t feel the pressure to HAVE TO MAKE IT WORK or DO EVERYTHING THAT MUST BE DONE IN ORDER TO ENSURE THAT IT DOES WORK and instead they do just the minimum, visible maintenance that satisfies the “perception” or allowable doings. I used that analogy because it was the first one that came to my head but it actually has NOTHING to do, in terms of specificity, with the issues that I was presented with. But for the sake of entertaining my idea, ask yourself this:

If you knew that you HAD to spend the rest of your life with this one person and could only be intimate with this one person and had to entrust this one person WITH KNOWING AND CARING FOR ALL OF YOUR NEEDS and on top of that you would have to trust that this one person would do the same for you as you have done, would you get married?

That damn grease just popped somebody.

You get the point though.

Many of the decisions that I made in my past, careless and confusing as they were, were made because I had the “wrong” options available. I had defense mechanisms and “outs” that I knew were safety nets and all too willing to catch me when I fell. Because I had these “outs” I didn’t really have to STEP UP to the plate and hit for myself. These “outs” were family, friends, places, and things alike that all were available to me and I had knowledge of them. These “outs” prevented me from having to be accountable or responsible. These “outs” were based on facts and I used that fact to support the justification of how I behaved. The problem there is that facts are not always all of the truth and the truth is not always honesty. Those “outs” were also learned behaviors and elements of the generational traditions, habits, and curses that had plagued my surroundings and were the examples shown me on how to “deal” with life. I picked up quite a few bad habits by virtue of being taught those things through the people I looked to for guidance and instruction. And the stories and conversations I heard about the people who, unbeknownst to the people talking about them, who were people I wanted to have in my life or emulate, were always nasty, hate driven rhetoric born out of anger that was response to a bad relationship or lack thereof and the issues that stem from people who “got together” with the knowledge that they could live apart. The divorce “out”. (That last concept is for the single parents that discuss the “other” parent in a negative way thinking that the child isn’t listening or paying attention or not old enough to “know what’s going on”.)

Self-pity can be a good thing, excuses (as Mr. Vereen would say) are just poor means to get there. You need reasons.

Without going into a long, over worded, “teachery” message about today’s writing I just want to say this, the reason I had to start making the “right” choices is because I had started to hate the “options” and alternatives. So I stopped moving. I stopped running. I started feeling. I started communicating. I listened. There are some valid problems and issues that I was dealing with and were definitely out of my control in terms of me being able to have prevented or thwart them from happening but my response, though sometimes a learned behavior or habit or made under duress, stress, and undue influence, was me. I accept that. I am better equipped, knowing that fact, to handle things going forward. I feel better now going into situations with the mindset that the situation is a MUST DO and not a “may work out” or “just in case, I’ve got…” type of deal. I can grow from here. I can GO from here.

BEFORE NOW, the excuse I had been using was everyone and everything else, the reason that I am different now, doing things different now, and who I am doing this for NOW, is me. That’s the RIGHT choice.

Oh, that title…

I often here people talk about “running out of time”. It’s usually in reference to having something to do or that needs to be done. I decided to RUN OUT TIME in order to get to where I needed to go. I have somewhere to be, in my skin, someone to meet there, me.


©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III


A GOD to my liking.

Tuesday (10/16) was an old friends birthday. When I got up and started to write this morning, I had no idea what I was going to talk about or whether I should at all. My last few blogs have all been “catheters” that have been supportive of me releasing years upon years of “buildup” and for the last couple of days, I figured that I may need a little rest. I was actually just going to write a poem or insert one of my quotes from my last book as a “Today’s -see” but as I started writing, I saw the date and remembered that his birthday had past and well, there IS something that I need to talk about.

Today’s -see

A GOD to MY “liking”.

I am very specific and anal about certain things. Some people call me picky and finicky and even conceited. Others have called me ignorant and selfish and rebellious. I’ve also been tagged stupid, irresponsible, careless, and just down right obnoxious for the way and means by which I operated in action along parts of the years of my life. I admit, with a heavy acknowledgement towards understanding the perception and reality of my causing, they were right. I was. I did. That was me.

When I was young, probably like 9 or 10, it was discovered that I had a “gift”. Before this time I had been announced as “special” via my demeanor and disposition relative to how I interacted with life and the individuals in it. They said I had special qualities about me that should and could warrant me success in growing up. I had these outrageous ambitions and dreams that were consistent. I spoke optimistically about EVERYTHING. I loved to draw and care about people. I loved to sing and interact with others. I loved to inspire and perform. I loved an audience but I had this ability to be in a crowd of people yet almost nonchalantly appear attentive to each and every person individually. I gave eye contact and I had this smile, I was just downright AMAZING! (This is my story, I can say amazing!)

Around 9 or 10 years of age I also began to write. I would write poems and stories and being that we were being raised, force fed actually, in the church, it was natural that my mother would ensure that I channeled all of these “gifts” into the guarded and guided instruction of the church. And we went to church RELIGIOUSLY, like clockwork. Every Sunday for Sunday school and worship service and evening program, if any, every Tuesday for choir practice, every Wednesday for bible class, and every opportunity for church sponsored or involved events that were held any other day in the week. To be honest, I thought that I hated it and I used to swear off church in my future abilities to make decisions. I would declare, “I ain’t going to church when I grow up. I won’t make my kids go to church.”

But WE went. My mother was on the nurses board, worship committee, and fellowship staff. I think she was an usher or liaison to the ushers as well. She “loved” church. When I look back at our lives and analyze, from my perspective, the situation, I think that my mother found in church a sort of distractive measure that substituted her engaging in lifestyle and activity that was adverse to responsibility. My mother liked to gamble and she drank socially and she cussed like a sailor at points in her life. I watched her faith in GOD “deliver” her from those things, to a point. I saw church occupy her time away from those “distractions” and give her replacement in the form of an identity in the church. Church gave her new friends and different conversations. Church gave her hope and regulations that aided her in raising her three children. Church was a refuge and respite from some of the difficulties and struggles that were “life”.

And like I say, we went to church.

And I performed for the church. Every play or concert or program that I can remember, I was made available. I say “made available” because my mother MADE me AVAILABLE. I enjoyed the attention though. I knew that one day I was going to do that (speaking and performing) or something like it. Most people spoke over and into my life that I was “supposed” to be a preacher but I didn’t much agree with that. But I loved getting up and performing. I really loved sharing my words with others and being received as I was, special. Over time I began to realize myself that I had “something” and I began to realize just how “amazing” that something was. I also celebrated the fact that my foundation was in GOD and I spoke the LIFE that was made available through GOD. I have gained an audience over the years that accepted and expected of me a perspective that is very akin to that of a minister or pastor for the most part. One of the things that I have been told very consistently over these years is that my “message” is amazing in that you can take it ANYWHERE! And I have been many, many places with it. To date I have done radio, film, and theater, I have published 3 books, had a line of t-shirts, had my work featured on all kinds of products, been featured on an internationally released cd, recorded a spoken word album, traveled and performed across the country, been written about in the Wall street Journal, USATODAY, Entertainment Weekly, to name a few publications, and I have met and spent time in the company of some spectacular individuals as a result of “my gift”. It and I have done some wonderful things, and I think that we are just getting started.

In all of those things that I have been able to do and be apart of I found a kind of struggle within myself that caused a great deal of concern for myself from myself and others have identified as well. There is something about my story that wasn’t “real”.

I have heard for years about “how far” I should have been by now. People always, while measuring my progress, compare me to entertainers or speakers or celebrities and attempt to impress upon me that I am “behind” in some fashion for the fact that although I have done these “many” things, I am relatively “unknown”, I am definitely not “wealthy”, and I’m in more debt and deficiency than should be the case with such a “talent”. And although I’m not much for the comparing my life to others, I do believe that I could have been “better off” than this (my current state) financially, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, and spiritually had I “known better” or been shown the SPECIFIC areas in which I lacked the proper channels to thrive and been conducted towards that direction. I would venture to say that I am behind because I didn’t “know better” and everything before now was really the “process” to which I had to engage in order to get “where I am SUPPOSED to be”. (“Supposed” is a dangerous word to use in a sense like this, sometimes it threatens that you are not “right” where you are and that gives you the impression that you are not “doing enough” or not measuring up per say. It is a very unhealthy concept in bringing others into alignment with “assignments” because it is astronomical pressure and undue influence and it will block many from “going” anywhere.)

My mothers’ GOD.

To be honest, I don’t think that I really believed in GOD for the first 25 or so years of my life. I said His name and I had been baptized and I went to church and I was familiar with the bible and I knew all the “right things” to say when I engaged audiences that held faith in GOD but I don’t think I really “knew” Him. There have been miracles that have happened in my life, UNEXPLAINABLE to or by mankind, that have happened to and for me that I have definitely given “GOD” responsibility for but somehow I wasn’t 100% convicted nor convinced. I had “issues” with GOD that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but they were ever present and quite the albatross in the way of an authentic relationship with GOD for me.

That friend I was mentioning.

About 4 or 5 years ago I met this guy in the barbershop. At the time I was living in Atlanta and going about the “motions” as it were and just not quite focused on pretty much anything. I had recently left Chicago AGAIN and was “out” from my family AGAIN and just living in the wind AGAIN and I had decided to go back to cutting hair AGAIN. I was just “there” if I may use that term loosely because I didn’t really have anywhere else, in my opinion, to be. So again here I was, hiding in plain sight.

The guy came into the barbershop and asked, “Can anyone cut this type of hair?”… He was a white man and had walked into a “black” barbershop so of course it was natural for him to inquire as such. I responded, “I can do everything but make it grow!”, he smiled and sat in my chair. Over the next couple of months – he only got a cut maybe once every three weeks or so- we struck up conversations and the premise for a friendship. There was something about this dude that just really impressed me. When I first met him I had no idea what he did, who he was, or where he had come from. He liked the haircuts enough to come back though. I was really impressed by everything about him. Everything that he talked about intrigued me and really because of his energy and enthusiasm for the life he has. When he talked about his wife or his career, his boat, his daughter, his hobbies, his interest, his loves or dislikes, or anything regarding the University of Tennessee (where he attended school and is a BIG supporter of UT anything) there was so much passion and commitment. When he talked about his friends or his church his eyes just lit up like with everything else that he shared. About the third or fourth time that he came in I couldn’t hold it in anymore and so I asked,…

“Describe “your” GOD to me.”

Mike -that’s his name- and I haven’t spoken in quite awhile. I accept responsibility for that fact. I didn’t hold up to my end of our friendship. I didn’t do the requirements necessary to ensure that he could be confident in any hope that I ever would live up to the expectations we had for me or any I had for myself. I was not committed to my word and that forced him into positions that endangered and somewhat jeopardized the opportunities that were possible for us. I had no idea how to communicate most of the issues that I had and definitely no strength or courage to learn. So I just existed. I squandered the resource that he was to me and I voided the transaction of our friendship by being “bankrupt”, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

But the first question that I had asked was, “Describe your GOD to me.”

When I look back at it now, our “season” makes perfect sense. Losing that friendship and a few other relationships that I forfeited in the time surrounding it forced me into the seclusion and alienation that started the process that I undertook that began to “show me the way” out. Mike taught me some things that have broadened my understanding and perspective and have given me great qualities that are the reason, or at least part of the reason I can expose myself as such I am. The really wonderful part about it is something very small that happened around the time I met him that had a minor impact then but a major one later on.

I was quite hesitant to trust ANYONE for a very, very long time. My trust issues are severe. Even now as I write this and as I am being delivered out of the captivity that has been the prison of my mind, I have to be honest and say that I still have a long way to go. I’m still fond of some of the habits and reflexes that enabled the perpetuation of what pain my “issues” caused/cause. I’m honest about this. It would be easy to say that I’m over it or that I’m prepared for change or even that I’ve made up my mind to do differently but the reality is that “old habits die hard” and what is familiar to you is very difficult to un-remember. I’m dealing with these facts and truths HONESTLY and I expect change, so I am confident that CHANGE WILL COME!

But back to the subject…

So one day around the time that Mike and I met I had this feeling that he was “GOD-sent” into my life. Before and after I met Mike, pretty much all of my life, my trust issues had frustrated any clear thinking about people so I had come to rely on this “instinct” in order to at least gauge a sense of purpose and identity with others when they “appeared”. Often I get a “word” in my spirit that either confirms or denies access to my heart and so I looked for that feeling when I met him. One night I was on my way home from the barbershop and he had called me just to check up on me. When he got off the phone I said to myself, “If he is for real, he’s going to give me a book to read.” THE VERY NEXT DAY MIKE CALLED AND SAID, “Hey SEE, I got a book that I read recently and I think that you may need to check it out.”

I was at a loss for words.

The book that he recommended was “The Shack” by William P. Young. Great book! PHENOMENAL READ! I could write 3 novels on the subject matter (I probably will).

If nothing else that Mikes’ presence in my life is honored for, it is the perspective that I achieved subsequent to the end of that season. The book is an awesome book in regards to giving you a different way of “looking” at GOD and the relationship that can be achieved with GOD. I shared the book with a lot of people and many of them were greatly affected and appreciative of it. I read it 3 times; In the beginning of Mike and I’s friendship, during its height and soon after I hadn’t spoken to him for a while. The book represented how important and viable Mike was to me. Soon after I had read it for the 3rd time I was sitting around just reminiscing and reflecting, damn near depressed about my “results” in life, and contemplating something that Mike had once said to me about being “practical”, I came up with something that I felt passionately curious about yet I have not been able to write or “right” until now.

I only “knew” my mothers GOD. I was familiar with GOD through the reference of her relationship and regulation. I measured GOD on the standard of her past and her predicaments. To be honest, she had become the GOD of sorts in my life and I martyred her death in an observance according to that belief.
I recognized “GOD” when he reflected things that made me remember her and vice-versa. I made her “word of GOD” the barometer and gauging method by which I tried to comprehend “the” Word of GOD (bible) and I walked in this vain. I operated under the guise of these notions because it protected my mothers memory from being tainted by the revelations that I became aware of after her death that were totally contradictory to how I perceived that she had lived her life. The real conundrum here was that I am very intelligent and had to really “dumb down” to function this way. I knew better. My conscious held confrontation with my subconscious daily on this fact. But this was a “safe” place. I felt comfortable in the mediocrity of this place because it maintained a level of order that did not disrupt the only remnants of relationship that I had left. Or so I thought. I kept up this facade through defense mechanisms that I created in an effort to shield me from having to be vulnerable to the “elements” of the situation.

(Writing that caused me to pause.)

In a previous blog post I wrote about how my mother had taught me, or rather I had learned from her, secrets. I had been shown privacy. I had been given an example that, when I registered it into the school of my thinking, was not equipped to deal with what was really going on or necessary for me to “move on”. I modeled more of the “bad” things externally because they were the visuals that were more obvious and familiar to me. Certainly my mother instilled in me good, GREAT, qualities and traits that are and will always be of great benefit to my life and I am not ashamed of my mom or anything about my mom BUT I have come to realize and recognize that I took on certain attitudes and beliefs based on what and how I saw things. A lot of the means by which I functioned in the past were unhealthy. But I held onto these things because they kept me familiar with a period of time that I wanted to hold onto.

WOW again.

My relationship with GOD and how I perceived Him fell prey and victim to this in a way that really had stagnated my growth in certain areas. What I had learned from “The Shack” was just how “off” we can be in our perceptions of GOD and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. That book aided me, as has the last few years, in “waking up” from the slumber of such seasons that hibernated me from wholeness. I had no REAL relationship with GOD. GOD meant secrets and lies just as much as He meant truth and transparency, just as much as He meant Love, just as much as He meant confusion, just as much as He meant pride and joy, just as much as He meant murder (my mother), just as much as He meant birth (my son). So I communicated this hypocrisy in my actions, and probably some of my words. I had a very turbulent relationship with “church” after my moms murder and have fought with that for the 18 years it has been since. I developed an ignorance and reluctance to trust ANYONE because of this and other factors that were the only things I “knew” of or how to deal from. Because I had so dangerously attached my mother to GOD in my mind, I gave her no chance to be human and God no chance to forgive. This was my “great sadness” (If you ever read the book, you will understand that somewhat more) and it blocked, from flowing in me or through me, life.

How I dealt with people and the way I sabotaged relationships is probably the biggest regret of my life. I’ve really hurt some people and the opportunities that they gave me because of the way I handled their presence. My lack of communication has often been cited as why things didn’t work and I know why I lacked it. I was hurt. I felt betrayed. I was confused and the thing that I spoke that was supposed to be clarity was entrenched in confusion. The GOD that I “liked” was the GOD that was my moms and I had no idea of what their relationship really was. I don’t know the conversations that she had with him nor the depth to which she understood him. But I made a really big mistake by holding her “humanness” responsible for the reasons that GOD seemed to be ineffective for me. I held her to a higher standard and GOD to low expectations. Devastating. I attached to GOD the “things”, mistakes, and lacks of what I perceived were detrimental in me being able to heal or help my mothers memory, to GOD. So He was an imperfect GOD. He was a selfish, maniacal, deceitful, manipulative, unconcerned deity with power and options that always seemed to take advantage of me. I saw my mom as perfect but troubled because of Him. This train of thought only gained speed as I moved about and around. From place to place and person to person, this motion gained momentum and traction and carried me far. And then I hit a pothole. It was more like a sinkhole but nevertheless, I fell, the train stopped, I had to realize the damage.

There was a whole lot of damage.

Today I am a very different person than I was back then. I’m very different from the me that was 3 years ago. I am growing and learning at an accelerated clip and the awareness that I can appreciate in me right now is profound to say the least. I understand my mother differently now. I realize that we all have issues and struggles and the best thing that we can do is the best we can do. We can’t make others believe for us what we want to believe nor can we hold against them how they believe because they believe or act differently. We shouldn’t hold against people the “way” they believe in the sense that we have to be considerate and recognize that we are all human. I struggled with my faith and belief in GOD because I hadn’t sought for myself the fullness and fellowship with Him that would allow me to enter into authentic relationship with Him. That was further delayed because I hadn’t been true to myself. I hadn’t been true to myself attempting to be “real” in an effort to keep up an idea. The idea wasn’t even real.

So I decided to meet GOD on my terms. I threw away most of the things and methods by which I habitually sought after him and started to “find” myself first. One of the first things that I discovered was that I had been “using” GOD as an escape from acknowledging what was real. As long as the GOD that I sought disappointed me I was going keep up the nonsense. GOD was a troubling issue to me and so everything that happened “to me” became acceptable because I almost EXPECTED the nonsense and drama. You know where the bible says, “As a man thinketh so is he…”, well guess what, IT IS TRUE. And boy did I “think” some stuff.

Liking where I am.

Yesterday one of my clients came into the barbershop. He sat in my chair and we were just talking about the day and his plans for the evening and the usual rigamarole that accompanies most haircuts. This client has been a client of mine for about 8 or 9 years off and on, because I have moved, stopped cutting, relocated, and now back in a shop I was at many years ago. He’s about 10 years younger than I am and so some of my purpose in his life was that of a mentor. I used to do a weekly announcement at his grade school over the intercom when I was doing a lot of the community work that I was involved in back then. He admired and actually found it cool that the guy doing the poetry on Fridays over the intercom was his barber. Over the years I’ve watched him grow into a young man that wants more and strives and just like many of us struggles with “life” and EVERYTHING that comes with “living”. And we have had A WHOLE LOT OF CONVERSATIONS about “life”.

About two weeks ago we had a conversation and I just started talking about how GOD has become “accessible” to me based on me making certain changes in my approach to Him. I was talking about how I stopped going to church a couple of years ago. I told him about me not pressuring myself to live up to unrealistic standards as I had for so many years. I talked about a bunch of things and just how “I” had finally begun to make peace with who GOD is and how AWESOME it is to know him.

I didn’t know to what extent my client was listening.

While we were talking yesterday, he looks up at me and says, “Hey Bro, I wanted to tell you,… Because of our last conversation a couple of weeks ago, I gave my life to Christ.”


In all of the years that I have been “speaking”, “ministering” in churches, and “performing” out in the streets or in barbershops or through my talents and “gifts”, I’ve never once had someone tell me that as a result of me speaking into their life, that they decided to give their life to GOD. Never. I’ve wanted to be able to make that impression. I’ve heard that my words inspire and motivate that impression but I’ve never seen it or heard it verbalized. More importantly is who it came from, someone who has watched me grow. This young man, who I believe in, I have spoken into his life for years that he materialize and manifest the abundance of life that is healthy and well and whole. He looks up to me. We talk, honestly, about everything. I have tried for all of those 8+ years to input into him what I see is possible to come out of him.

But I was trying for most of that time to give him my perception of what I had hoped was best and not ever being authentic in my transparency because I was mired in the frustration as I have spoken of. I didn’t “know” better myself but I offered to him “better” all the time. I ADMIT, many of our talks over the years was an attempt by me to get him “in line” with what I thought that I saw GOD wanted from him. Expectation, Pressure, Obstacle. (That’s what I was really giving him.)

But this time, our conversation, from my perspective, was not an invitation to Christ. It was me being real. It was me being honest. It was me giving someone else the truth that is my life and just speaking my journey. It was comfortable, it was not pressuring, it was not overwhelming, it was not condemning or obnoxious or “preachery”. It was natural. It was everything that I remember about Mike talking to me. It was selfless. It was pure. It had light. I had hope. It had meaning.

It was to my liking.


©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III


The meaning of the word. (What it means to you)

The meaning of the word. (What it means to you)

I was in a relationship a few years back that had, like MOST relationships I am familiar with, entered into a season of threatening turbulence. At the time of this “situation”, rather by the time of this situation, we had began to exist outside of the immediate “sensation” that is the genesis of most unions and were beginning to enter into the period in which if it was worth something to either of us, it was time to fight for it. We had gotten past that initial “like” phase and we had gone through the “can’t separate us phase” and the “sex makes everything better” phase was wearing thin as was the “everyone is looking, lets keep up the appearance of symbiotic perfection” finding its way out of the door too. We were coming to the point where you really “meet the person you met”. We had come to the point where you really begin to know someone, if that’s what you REALLY want to do.

So here we were.

To be honest, I was never fully committed to the relationship in the first place ( I base this conclusion on hindsight and the resulting maturity that I have undergone) but I knew that my “weaknesses” were still STRONGER than any capacity of which the woman that I was with could handle. She was fascinated by things about me, that she interpreted were just for her, that were just things I do naturally. I am naturally a comforter, naturally a mediator, naturally an optimist, naturally passionate, naturally sexual, naturally considerate, and naturally sweet-talking, and so the qualities that she “felt” were those that guaranteed her place and space in my life were just “par for the course”, it was not special or especially for her, it was just who I am. She had qualities like this that I admired (and interpreted for me) as well. She was so nurturing and caring, so attentive and inquisitive, so sexual and interested into my sexuality, so “open-minded” sexually, so ambitious, so “trusting” (or so it seemed) and just SO DAMN CUTE to me. These qualities were not all that we shared but they were a lot of the “anchor” traits that distracted us from really dealing or having to deal with the “real” issues. These things kept us from dealing with each other.

That “word”.

One night we were in the car and her pager went off. (Yeah, it was that long ago) This was no big thing, her pager going off, even as late as it was, and I didn’t have a problem with the pager or who might be calling it. But then it went off again and after about 3 minutes, again. Now at the time we were actually in the midst of a minor argument about something TOTALLY different but the pager just set off an “alert” in me and I demanded she respond to the person who was calling. She refused. Ooooooooh, why she do that! So I grabbed the pager and I called the number back from my cell phone. By the time the guy answered I was already “hot as fish grease” and there was probably nothing that he could say or she could not say that was going to calm down my state. When he heard my voice he grew quiet and I could tell he was about to hang up the phone. I said, “No Bruh, here she is…” And I handed her my phone. She hung the phone up. I grabbed my phone and called him RIGHT BACK! I said, “I’m sorry that she hung up on you, here she is…” And I gave her the phone. She hung up on him again. Immediately after I went into this berating, angry, frustrated dialogue towards her actions and there was not much that she should have been able to say but low and behold, she argued back. The AUDACITY! And then she said, after about 2 hours of back and forth, this:

“People cheat, they deal with it, they work it out and they stay together.”


You ever been somewhere that you didn’t belong but you’re there and the fact that you’re there is playing on your pride and ego so much so that you can’t leave or walk out because it would look “bad” or so you think and so instead of leaving you make yourself as “comfortable” as discomfort will allow but the entire time you are just there “physically” but all of your other “self” has long departed and what’s worse is that the shell of you that is in attendance has no power to fight off the environment as you need to so you find yourself, or what is left of you, becoming more a part of the “situation” than you would condone even becoming a “leader” of the pack in terms of “owning” the nonsense, habits and traits, and even beginning to defend the stupidity and ignorance that YOU KNOW this situation or place is but by this time you’re invested, at least in “time served” and that selfishness, of not wanting to walk away “empty handed” is corroding the quality of the value that you once “thought” you had?

Yea, that’s what I felt like right then.

And she followed that bizarre statement with, “I love you.”

I’ll forward past the years and time spent after this because the point is that I stayed. Why or how I stayed is irrelevant to this particular message but I stayed. I give this part of the story as background for what I am about to say now.

Now is about the meaning of the word and what “that” word means to YOU.


Love, by definition, means:
(According to the dictionary)

An intense feeling of deep affection: “their love for their country”.

Feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone): “do you love me?”.


When we most often talk or think about love it is almost always in a more “complete” and specifics driven definition than the above definition gives. Love from our general understanding requires pages upon pages to detail the “all” that it encompasses. Love is a “trickling effect” type of word that is small in stature but is BIG in statute. It means so much. It represents that much more.

Love to me:

The woman that I was with back then, who is still a friend of mine and very much in agreement with my viewpoint and recollection of our time together, had a very “different” idea and definition of what “love” was. What I learned from her life “before me” I didn’t really understand until “after us”. Her experiences and dealings with “what love represents” caused a train reaction and subsequent mindset towards how to deal with men. Her mother and aunts had illustrated to her and the other younger women in her family that men were not to be trusted and monogamy was no requirement for “relationships” to work, that sex is a tool used in every negotiation of a relationship, that expressing your true feelings is a “deal breaker”, and that communication is best handled via the power of sex. Love to her was sex. When she said, “I love you”, it meant, “You can have my body”. Because a lot of men reciprocate being given sex with conformity and generosity, she had experienced and witnessed this phenomenon work. So “love” to her meant “sex” and because “sex” had most times meant “cooperation” and/or personal “power” or gain of some sort, “love” meant relationship. But because of what she had been taught via the generational doctrine that had been passed down to her, love didn’t require honesty, trust, loyalty, or many other NECESSARY qualities to facilitate POSITIVE benefits of an AUTHENTIC and TRUE representation of LOVE. When she said to me that people cheat and they get over it, it was because she had seen that example. She had seen that example, if not work “properly”, work out at least to the extent that from it their family was formed. So in “bad” was “good” and some are reluctant to separate these components for fear of destroying a “foundation ” that is all they know. Tragic.

And I learned from this what the word love “meant” to me.

I was taught secrets. I was shown privacy. I was given the idea that love meant power and control. I too was shown that sex was the major component of “loving” someone. I even saw this twisted concept intertwined in familial relationships. This is where the dark secrets of molestation and inbreeding that pervert our families fester. I had been exposed to some of these perversions, a victim even. And these things were followed by, “love”. I was NEVER given the example of a man and woman, as husband and wife, living cohesively as a family. NOT ONE IN MY FAMILY, immediate nor close. But what I was shown, was always somehow categorized as some type of love. Whether it was boyfriend/girlfriend, abused, manipulated, “comfortable”, “expected”, and so on. Love was the secret of homosexuality that I witnessed as a child but was not taught about. It was the “excuse” given to justify why two people (of the same sex) spent so much time behind closed doors. I had questions about that but I was told that the “love” of GOD encompassed an understanding that I may not “understand” at that time. Confusing enough for a child, huh? The only “married” men I knew of in my family were the ones who had babies with women in my family but stayed with their wives. But I always heard love somewhere in the telling of these truths. So love for me became questions and misinformation and lies and manipulation and audacity and acceptance (primarily of bullshit and lies) and secrets. The crazy part is that I saw homosexuality as a better visual, in terms of example, of what love was supposed to be. The gay people that I grew up seeing had stuck together and had friends and showed emotion and affection and trusted one another. As I grew up that confused me. I’ve never understood how or why someone would be gay, but I’ve always had a comfort with people who were.

(For the idiots that will somehow get out of this writing that I am or was gay or this is my coming out, NO I AM NOT GAY, I HAVE NEVER BEEN GAY NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN INVOLVED IN ANY HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIP OR SEX ACT. I was proof reading this blog with a friend of mine who writes and when I got to this part he says, “Man, I thought you was about to come out.” He had a straight face. I could only laugh.)

I am telling all of this stuff because of what I used to think “love” was.

My mother loved me. I LOVED my mother. My mother was murdered when I was 15 years old and I discovered her body on Monday, March 28, 1994. After her murder, I went into a depression and desperation that had lasted for almost 2 decades. So many things that I felt and held onto (as ideas and mind sets) are the causation of the core deficiencies that my character suffered from.

And I am about to explain a little of it…

A couple of years after my mother was murdered I was told that she was gay. (This statement has/had not been confirmed by anyone relevant but it was whispered and submitted into the atmosphere.) I was even told by the authorities that investigated her death that they suspected a “relationship” of a lesbian nature had played a role in the circumstances leading to her death. I was also told by members and even clergy of the church that we grew up in, that had withdrew their support and presence from our lives subsequent to her death, that they had not much “experience” in the circumstances of our situation and that the lifestyle choices my mom had made even more complicated their ability to “stand in front of” the issue. And some friends and family members offered commentary that promoted the non-fiction of these reverberations as well. Me, at the time, I vigorously denied that any of it could be true. I loved my mom and she loved me and she should have told me if something like that was true. But here I was at 15 trying to defend the story that “I thought I knew” that was behind the story others “saw” and even some allegedly knew more about. But no clarity, no closure. Instead there were just more questions.

Because some of the things I dealt with immediately after her death deserve blogs on their own, I’m not going to venture off topic too much. I’m just going to release in this moment things that have to do with this.

The depression that I had endured for a very long time after my moms death really hinged on one thing. I felt betrayed. I felt betrayed because of trust. I had trusted because of care. I cared because of “love”. Love was a lie.

Everything that I said before now was just a snapshot of the bigger picture that has been my understanding of the word love. I had to mention the things as I did because they represent the catalyst that formed the impression that “love” imprinted upon me. The “dark” truth about it is nevertheless the only truth that will produce the light that leads me out of the states and situations that dog my ability to move on. The crazy part is that I used the word love so frequently and with such ease for a very long time. I said the word and it was accompanied by all of the passion and poise and pain that once permeated my conceptualization of its meaning. So when I said the word, with all of those other things as a backdrop, it was felt. It came off as genuine because it was the truth, based on facts as I knew them, formed from events and emotions that led me to that conclusion. But it was a lie. The lie was that most times my “definition” of the word was not how the other people that I was using it with or in regard to had identified love, instead they defined it an entirely different way. Like the relationship that I was in, my definition of love and her definition of love, though both il- informed and totally dysfunctional, were just not the same and neither of us at that time had the wherewithal to learn a new meaning or submit to our partners interpretation of it.

Where did this get me?

At some point my subconscious and psyche developed this mechanism for dealing with love as it was defined by me. So the words love or trust or care or feel all became “triggers” for me to revert to the parts of me that found it more feasible to play out the dark elements of my personal definition of these words and to almost mimic the events that I had observed, though painfully, from my past. So love and trust primarily become the words that prompted me to withdraw and question and second-guess and doubt which then led to manipulation, lies, and deceit. I knew love as confusing as so it confused my being even when there was nothing available to frustrate. I’ve had the “perfect” situation many times over, in business, personally, and spiritually, but I ruined it because I deemed it something other than what it was. That alienated me from my friends and my family and really played a part in altering my future, as was the reality that I’ve lost and gained, good and bad, with no consistency.

Until I walked by the bathroom mirror about a year ago and there, totally naked, I said to the person that I saw, I love you.

This has been a very long journey for me. In this journey I have been exposed to myself with unadulterated measure. Having to examine MY definition of love, the definition that I was taught, the biblical definition, the societal definition, the barbershop definition, the media’s definition, the musical definition and take into account the varying definitions based on EACH & EVERYONE ELSE’S interpretation of each one of these definitions! Yea, that’s a whole lot to chew on. But I was asked once, “How do you eat an elephant?”…

One bite at a time.

And I now know what that means.


©Cornelious M. Flowers III


Broken watches.

Broken watches…

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
-anonymous (but told to me by my dad)

I remember one of the first times that my dad said this quote to me. I actually, for some number of years, thought that he had made it up until I had moved down south and heard it from different people over time. He was making a reference to the possibility that yeah I had a point but I didn’t really get THE point. Over the last 15 or so years I’ve heard him say this in deference to the reality of life and in response to certain actions and/or conversations of others. He has used it politically, socially, comically, randomly, and to my opinion sometimes, unnecessarily. But after all of those mentions it has resonated with me to a degree that is profound right now.

Clocks tell time. Clocks are the measuring stick and barometer by which we recognize and obey time. There are ALL KINDS of clocks in the world. Big, small, new, old, different colors, styles, technologies, features, characteristics, locations, and so on. Clocks are everywhere. Clocks are so much apart of our lives that we picture and remember their faces in reference to us recalling time. When I think 3 o’clock, I see it in my head on some type of clock. We submit, willingly or unwillingly, to some clock all of our lives. There is the clock of your dreams, your growth, your responsibilities, your expectations, that “biological” clock that women most often have to consider, and old “Father Time” that us men have to attempt to stall as we age and welcome, ofttimes unwillingly, the things that “time” takes away.

But back to clocks.

Clocks are analog or digital by their means of communicating with us their info. We host clocks in and on almost everything in our lives. There are at least 25 clocks in my house right now. From the wall clock to the microwave to the tv’s, the camera’s, the caller id’s, the cable boxes, phones, and more. Most of the clocks have the same time because they are all governed by a syncing system that is programmed into them by manufactures, developers, and programmers. That time comes from a central world clock that oversees time across the globe. This clock is the measurement that directs and orchestrates the science and math used to calculate the time across regions and spheres bringing into account all of the pertinent info and data necessary to give us an appreciation of time. That clock interprets for us the different “time zones” and phases that facilitate order upon all space on this planet. Then there are the clocks that we , my family and I, set according to the adjustments preferable to us individually. I set personal clocks 10 minutes fast for purposes of accounting for the “snooze” button presses that are surely to come from me. Everyone “personalizes” their “clock” suitable to their needs.

And then there are the clocks that we wear. Watches, though sometimes fashionable more so than purposeful, are how we can access time immediately upon our persons and further allow, into our space, time to manage us. We are introduced to watches at a very early age and over our years they even become the representation of how well we have “managed” time. A Scooby Doo watch at 3 years old was a cute and subtle way of teaching us time while a middle aged man with a William Baume Flying Tourbillion (retail $75,000) is an overtly obvious if not obnoxious way to illustrate that one has “managed” time to profit himself of “finer living”.

Back to the quote:

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
-anonymous (approved & reiterated by my Dad)

Whether you have that Scooby or the William, if your watch stops, at least twice in a day you are going to have the right time. You you may be wrong 23 hours and 58 minutes of the day but for 2 minutes EVERYDAY, you are going to be DEAD ON!

Oh, I am about to GO IN!….

People are clocks. In and around us, people are clocks. More than people being clocks, the “time” that they “tell” is their faith and belief system. As I said before, clocks are EVERYWHERE, all around us and their impression upon and into us, UNDENIABLE! But we don’t have to observe all of the clocks that we see nor the time that they tell. I don’t look at certain clocks because I don’t always need to know the (or its) time. And as far as the “world” clock, its different times only matter when I’m in different places or communicating on that time zone. But I manage my life not by “that” time but in respect to “my” time. I’m sleepy in China at 8 am not because I am so tired but because that is my bedtime back home. (Read deeper into that)

And then there are the watches.

Some people we CHOOSE to invite into our lives. We wear them people. We dress according to their appearance because we like the way “they” fit. We become proud of them and we flaunt them. We brag about and obsess over them. We variate them in and out of our everyday based on how “comfortable” they are too us. Some of them we keep on WAY TOO LONG and they get worn out or deprive our skin of the elements and nature and they leave marks. Sometimes we have them too tightly wrapped around us and they hurt us or leave scars! Some of them are “out of style” or “ahead of the time” and do more harm than good because we spend more time “explaining” them than just appreciating their presence. And then there are the ones we have because they are “fashion” statements. They are not purposeful, they’re just POPULAR!

But what if they are broken!

Some people in our lives say or do the “right” thing that “one” time, or maybe twice, and we sacrifice and surrender unto them our time (EVERYTHING). Instead of them just being their for a specific purpose as an “additive” or ACCESSORY, we make them the FEATURE and almost intentionally ignore that they are not just wrong, but WRONG FOR US, 23 hours and 58 minutes (98% of the day), most of the time. But we will not just observe what they say, WE WILL REPEAT WHAT THEY TELL US! Thereby misleading a mass of others.

Deep breath.

Inevitably, he/she (in your life), whomever they are, no matter what capacity of which they serve you, is going to be right about something. They may speak a word into or on you that gives you the oomph that is necessary to deliver you out of peril and pause and into PROGRESS, PRODUCTIVITY, and PRODUCTION but PLEEEEEEEEASE understand that they are human just like you. They are flawed, imperfect, JUST LIKE YOU. You don’t have to question EVERYTHING about yourself based on an answer that was given to you that one minute. Remember what I said about the time in China? We have to understand who we are and weigh the things outside or around us against that “thing” that is IN US. YOUR TIME is what is true to you (You may be the broken watch as well). But the right time is available.

Master Splinter (Yes I am about to quote Master Splinter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) said,
“As a leader you must realize that there is no such thing as right or wrong. There are only choices.” When I heard this I felt so compelled to forgive myself of ideas and actions of my past and that are to come that were CHOICES made because I had to make a choice. That I may have not made the one that gave me the outcome that “worked” for everybody or even “helped” everyone else has to be accepted as it was because it was. In fact I hurt a lot of others with my choices. But they were choices I made. That I accept and acknowledge them and take RESPONSIBILITY for them will give me leverage in gaining the wisdom, courage, and strength to make “better” choices going forward. A lot of my choices were made based on the “time” of others. What’s really crazy is that most of the “others” that I was observing, were, admittedly so, BROKEN WATCHES. Some of them were even dead, not fixable.

I know what time it is now.


©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III


What “rules” do you follow?…

What rules do you follow?

Recently I was approached with this question:

Who do you think you are?

My response: “Huh?”

Then I got this in return:

“How dare you carry the audacity to flaunt your intelligence by acting dumb?”

My response, “Huh!”

But before I gave him a chance to repeat the question, I apologized. I agreed that I had been cornered and then I asked for some time to gather my thoughts on the matter. The person who asked me the question is smarter than me. I look up to him, I revere him. I admire the good things about him and I am inspired by how he “tames” and deals with the “bad” things about himself. I look forward to his value to my life. I have learned to trust him. It took a very, very long time but yes, I trust him. I said all of this so that you may know how IMPORTANT he is to me and so you appreciate what I am about to say as much as I know that he will.

I like to color in “the lines”. I like the neatness. I admire abstract, contemporary art but my equilibrium is well affixed to the balance of a certain order. I like the disciplines and sciences of the human body. I adore the “natural” elements of what life is. I respect the stature of “freedom” but I am no respecter of its posture for the sake of being non-conforming to an idea of sorts. I am impulsive but yet with caution because I measure preservation heavier than a “get it all now” attitude. I have a disdain for authority that subdues by might and force without attempts at compromise and negotiation. I have a problem with ego maniacs that seem to be hellbent on indoctrinating their philosophy unto the easily influenced mind of “followers”. I am a very sexual being but I have withdrawn from sexual intercourse and relationship because I appreciate my body, mind, and spirit more than I do that of “what everyone else is doing” or “what they say I should/could be doing”. I love people. I love the colorful variety that “people” are BUT I have chosen to separate myself from “people” because I realized that although I am not easily influenced, I am quite easily distracted. I get “caught up” in “people watching” just as others succumb to “people pleasing”. I am far too independent on social matters and conversely way too social in regards to matters of my heart. I have an idea in my head of how things are supposed to be and I am hard pressed to exit mental activity towards resolution of that “thing” and the result is, or what many perceive the result is, lack of effort towards the “success” or “greatness” that I so often speak of. I could go on with my “quirks” or characteristics but for the sake of this just being a resource to help myself and others TODAY, I will stop there.

But what do these things have to do with “following rules”? Why am I telling these specific things in light of how & where this journey started? What’s the point?

Well, here it is, those things about me are “my rules”.

Rules- (definition)
One of a set of explicit or understood regulations or principles governing conduct within a particular activity or sphere.

A regulation, law, guideline.

(transitive) To regulate, be in charge of, make decisions for, reign over.
(slang, intransitive) To excel.

Unspoken rule- An assumed rule of human behavior that is not voiced or written down.


I have struggled for years with the fact that I so overtly seem to cross the lines that are “supposed” to represent “all things right and good” for my life. I have found myself randomly, inconsistently breaking the rules AND LAW for the sake of protecting what is endangered to me. I have disobeyed order and disregarded suggestion that may very well have given me what I NEEDED because it wasn’t what I WANTED! I’ve “played possum” towards effective action merely because it was routine and readily made available through excuse and experience. I’ve found myself down more times than not over simple things, things that ought not have such control over any state of my being yet have seemingly perfected the science of breaking me down.

And then I realized why I hadn’t been able to follow the “rules”. It was because the things that I attributed to being “me”, those things that I felt either defined or explained or acknowledged my “uniqueness” and were necessary for me to have worth, had actually become the guidelines and instructions by which I managed my presence in this life. My little “quirks” had become the measuring stick and standard to which I operated, good or bad. I had ignored the “reality” of the situation for the mentality of my comfort. So even things that seemed conducive to my “getting out” of particular messes became albatrosses for the fact that they were “contrary to popular belief”. The popular belief was my thinking, IN MY HEAD!

For example:

It was difficult to comprehend going only 35 miles per hour towards my destination because I had somewhere I had to be by a certain time and 35 mph would not cut it. So I would break that law. The real problem is not that limit nor the place I had to be but the thinking and habit that I formed in my mind, through whatever means, to put me in a position of getting ready “just in time” or “at the last minute” or “when I feel like it”.

But if/when I got caught, I’m pissed at the authority for “not having anything else better to do but bother me” and then not being sensitive to MY situation!

What are YOUR rules? How do you feel about things, FOR REAL? Know that these ideas shape the world that you operate in and that may be COMPLETELY different than the world that WE have to share. Are you willing to admit to YOURSELF that you may have some “unnecessary” rules in YOUR HEAD that are providing you with the obstacles that you must overcome in order to “move on”, “move past”, or “move forward”? Are you READY to accept that “your rules” would be fine if the only inhabitant on earth was YOU but since you’ve got company, well…

So I went back to the friend who asked me that question and I told him that he was right. Even the things that he didn’t say but I heard from looking into his eyes. I admitted that I was wrong on some things and that I’m willing to learn how to do better so that I may DO BETTER. He told me that not only did he believe in me, BUT HE BELIEVES ME! That means everything! That’s how I know that everything is going to work out, because he believes me.

You know what I did next, I walked away from the mirror, and started writing this.


©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III


Are you hurting what helps by helping what hurts?

Today’s -see

Are you hurting what helps?

What is going to help YOU? Is it a new car, a car? Is it a job, a different job, a different position at your job, or a promotion from a job into a career? Is it a place to stay, a different place to stay, or maybe a new place to stay? Are people hurting you? Is it the wrong people, difficult people, “family” people, too many people, not enough people, or people that should have been gone a long time ago?

Or could “something else” be the thing that is hurting you?

The options and excuses are endless. The possibilities enumerate into infinity. The pitfalls and pains that seem to compliment our journeys along the way to destiny are countless and compounding to say the least. Then there is the spontaneous and random tragedy, trial, or trouble that makes its way into interrupting our lives. Add to that, circumstance and situation, history, traditions, generational/familial curses and dilemma, plus life. “Life” itself is adequate enough sometimes to parade upon us peril and pause.

But then there is you. At the core of any identifying factor that is plausible in retaining accountability or responsibility is the method by which ANY thing is handled. Your “method” is always contingent upon specific factors: YOUR PERCEPTION, YOUR ACCEPTANCE, YOUR RESISTANCE, YOUR IGNORANCE/COMPREHENSION, YOUR ABILITY or lack thereof to MANAGE,.. etc.

Certain situations (if not most) could possibly work towards a better outcome but don’t because we approach them contrary to the requirements needed to effectively handle them. We bring emotion into situations that demand rational attention. We bring our past into situations or relationships that are based on the future (potential, possibility). We use historic (outdated) mind sets and methods to handle issues that require current (new) approaches and practical resolution. We hold hostage our faith and hope in exchange for the pessimistic reality that is the spirit of obstruction and difficulty. Drama is sensational and some of us gravitate towards the bright light of being noticed as opposed to the safety of being recognized. A lot of this, we do to ourselves. We could blame and attribute the issues to someone or something else BUT the FACT and TRUTH is this, YOU ARE IN CONTROL.

So are YOU hurting what helps? Are you in the way via an appetite for running high speed on the “gerbil wheel” of routine and habit? Have you blocked off roads to SAFETY, SECURITY, and SIGNIFICANCE because YOU are systematically accustomed and prone to accident because of a fatalistic attitude or regard for life? Do you “prevent” good things from happening because you are so worried about what “bad” things could? Are you being “hated on” most by the one person that should love YOU more than anything? Probably so, YOU are “hating on” YOURSELF!

It is time for that to stop.