The Overpass.

I lived on a street in East Orange, NJ during undergrad. The street was lined with cars but no trees. The neighborhood was cool though. Mainly large multiple family and 3 or 4 story apartment homes. I lived in one of those homes for nearly 11 years. Really liked the place because it reminded me of loft spaces in New York. I stayed in two apartments like this during undergrad while having section 8. This house was on a one way Street that was adjoined to another road that aligned with a State Exit. So yeh. It could get very busy at times but living on a one way street came to be both handy and a little dangerous. 

My apartment was unique because I was able to style the foyer and another room outside of my primary dwelling. That room became the room designated for chanting to my altar once I became a Buddhist and was close to turning 40. I spent a lot of time in this room after I was no longer feeling like I belonged in either N.A. or A.A. I came to start chanting a year after I self-published a pamphlet called A Philosophy of Elements in 2002. It was a memoir on the first 3 years of my recovery. I met two people at two different times who would show me two approaches that would help me commit to Buddhist practice. Both times were points in my life that I had to make some type of financial decision that seemed would set me back or some or decisions that I would have to face in life. But each person convinced me to chant. To continue making my altar a mirror. Because that is what our beliefs in the Gohonzon becomes. That our lives can only be manifestations of our inner spirits. Nothing comes from outside ourselves. And if we don't believe this we cannot know enlightenment. I thought I believed this even though there was always a bunch of people in my ear about what I should believe. So, my fellow Buddhist sisters and brothers frustrated me often. We could never see eye to eye on teachings unless a leader was around. They often took me for "guidance" which usually ended with a warning to stop sharing my thoughts on what illuminated my life from our teachings with anyone. 

I was excited to understand my own beliefs after being Christian from a child and also going to the Catholic college I attended. All of these experiences shaped my beliefs at that time yet I couldn't understand why all these Black Buddhist women were giving me a hard time. It was a paradox when I think about finally shutting them out of my life for long periods at a time. And my Gohonzon Room. It was such a beautiful place of beauty. I brought such an eclectic aesthetic to this space for myself. 

While joining this group of women, it seemed I was in the hot seat all the time. Being in college made me want to learn all I could about cultures and their religions. Whatever I adapted that made sense to me made me more frustrated with people I practiced Buddhism with. I felt they should know better than to tamper with newcomers and those who continue seeking the truth but they would not revise their backwardness. I began to become full of rage and confusion so on some of the snowiest days I can remember that year I would go near the overpass and yell to the top of my lungs. It was a busy corridor but it made me feel safe. There was no one to tell me I was wrong or had no business feeling the way I did. 

A couple of times I felt pushed and bullied about my beliefs. I was so enraged. It seemed the more I chanted about gaslighting from my peers the more I just wished I never met them. One day after taking my boys to the city bus up the street however, I had an unforgettable experience that I would gladly have to eventually share with my Buddhist peers. I jumped over the hood of a moving car. My cheerleader skills kicked in and I did a one arm cartwheel over a car that never stopped to see if I was okay. In fact that was not the first time I had bad karma with catching hit and runs in my general area in East Orange.  I got hit at least two other times. Once with my youngest son. And people just left both of us out in the street. This time on this corner I was so kick ass. A man saw me land and start to walk toward my apartment. He coerced me into getting some Starbucks before his drive to work. He saw me! Thank goodness for good brothers! He was happy to take the time to notice that I was still alive. That shit was a close call. That day it felt good to matter to somebody.

Anyway. Living near that overpass renewed my strength regardless of my unpleasant circumstances. I roared with the voice of a lion because I refused to let go of my authentic self. I even took my sons over there to let them know they didn't have to destroy property or themselves when people were acting like dicks. Not too long after that winter I jumped over that car I was asked to become a spiritual leader among some of my Buddhist sisters. I would come to understand a Buddhist  saying "Winter Always Turns to Spring." This block, my story and my neighborhood shaped my faith and determination to resist despair and disappointment. By then the snow was gone. Spring had certainly arrived and I wasn't going out there as often. That could be I finally didn't give a damn about people's bullshit from people who I knew weren't practicing correctly. I stopped taking their shit. Periodt. 

At one point my neighbors tried to jump my ass too on one of those 6 foot deep snowy days when I was getting the snow off the porch. Had to face those haters and defeat them in a three-way brawl for talking shit and threatening me. I am sure they weren't expecting between me and my oldest son giving them an ass whipping. But they had it coming. Always facing Fucking haters became a norm but the deeper issues were Mental. Spiritual. Physical. Social dissidence and oppression impeding upon my soul. I hated the pressure of just being until I could accept I wasn't doing anything wrong to these janky assed folk, and I just didn't belong. Those were the first steps toward managing my pain. Knowing that I didn't fit. So from this time between getting clean and the first six years of Buddhist practice, 99.9% of everyone I knew outside of school did not fit with me. At all.

Well anyway Thank goodness for quick reflexes. That day I jumped over that car could have ended very badly. To say the least, I was blessed not getting run over and all. I was Fearless That day! I became master a master and Queen of staying out of harm's way. I would be retested and tried again fo sho. Getting cancer, going through aggressive chemo and radiation treatments. Even going through heart surgeries. But none of these awful feats made me want to get high or take a drink. I was scared as hell but I think that one time I flipped myself over that car taught me what I needed to survive anything: resist fear and embrace the warrior you need to be gurls. I had to tell myself I could not drown or stay down for the count. So I didn't and I still resist to go against my vow as a Bodhisattva. 

My life is full of learning to continue being a warrior for sisters who could not always speak up. I mainly was more concerned about domestic violence survivors which is why I also became a proper Black feminist even though I would never be embraced by so many women who said they want to help domestic violence victims, survivors and other Black women who were struggling. But they were really bitches. Mean girls with airtight agendas that never aimed at the ending of violence against women in their homes or rape. So a lot of times these same women I supported thinking they were helping women heal were just fake assed Jezebels. I survived that bullshit too.

I'm grateful to be alive. I am no longer ashamed of the story I am still alive to tell because I didn't have to be here. I could have gotten hit by that car. But I made the determination to take a leap of resistance. I didn't just try. I refused to be run over that day. There were so many more challenges I had that would make me give into drinking, drugging and even smoking cigarettes at this point. But I simply don't want put this Queen in harm's way!

Luv to U & me, Ms. BBB😘