Tuesday, 17 January 2012

I See A Man

Something 
made me pay attention
your words,
actions,
thought processes.....
Arrested my attention,

and in that small
glimpse,
I saw burning potential
like hot magma; below the surface.

I see beyond
the desperation 
the humble beginnings,
Institutionalized conditioning
And societal programming
which has caused you
to turn a blind eye
to your own
Soul's
perfection.

I see a Man
shining with intelligence
trapped
by self-imposed limitations

A Man
who's life
has taught you
that to succeed
you have to turn your back on your talents and dreams
follow a course un-natural to you,

conform to an ideal not your own;
conceptualized
by people
who hold their own interests supreme
over yours.

So you struggle against the tides
of society
family
friends
your,  own,  choices-
sowing doubt in your heart…..

and yet,
the embers;
the flames of passion,
are still lighted within.

Still burning
with the heat
of yearning....

yearning to explore your talent
and show it to the world!

And yet
all this
is just a glimpse

a flash of insight
that I have had

because I got to know you,

that glimpse allowed me
to see…..

A Man

who's potential
far out-weighs
your current circumstances

A Man

who's experiential
day to day life
teaches you to devalue your own dreams

to work for the goals of others;
goals that you must put above your own,
and before your own aspirations,
which do not conform
to the nine to five
factory operations.

Modern day colonial, slavery systems
which you were educated to aspire to
as your highest calling.

Trained to belong
to be seen and not heard,
conditioning
you strain
against,
because it goes against,
who you are....
the potential star.

I see a Man,

a valuable man,
who's sense of self-worth
is all wrapped up
in material considerations,
instead of the value
of your Soul's gifts
and the contribution
you will make in this world,

when you
just
learn
to see
the man that I see.

I see a Man
And that Man is You
and You
and You and You.

A man with talent,
with heart,
drive and ambition,
with skills
uniquely designed
to ensure that you fullfil
your life's mission.

While you doubt yourself
and follow societal norms 
you bury the man
the one there inside
burning to be freed
the one that I glimpse

when I hear
your words spoken,

that I see
when I witness your compassion;

exposing the Man,

the man I see in you.....

Limit-Less
other than for the constraints,
mental shackles,
you allow,
which you place
upon
yourself.

When you look into the mirror
why don’t you see,
get that same glimpse...
see that man....
and set him free?

I see a man
a great man
with all the unleashed potential
of the universe

and that Man
is
You.



by 
Katherine Felix  Sunday, April 24, 2011

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Dreams

There is a spark in each of us, a glimmer of hope that began life as we did, much larger in scope; before we learned to doubt the quiet belief that we can be - can do - anything.
It is sad that we lose this spark over time, with the proud assistance of our educators and parents; only trying to help us to conform, to fit in.... to meet the expectations that everyone else has of us.

When I had the luxury of time with my children I had nothing in a material sense, but I had a precious gift - the gift that many women nowadays have given up in exchange for a business suit and salary.

I was able to read to my children, gaze in wonder at a waterfall, play by the riverside and suck on cacao seeds; take a long walk without worry about how long we took. Those very short years, so long ago, (while filled with other stresses), were times that I was able to see the spirit of my children most clearly, and they could still see mine.

I wonder now- if, in racing to leave the world of poverty, did I break something important in the process...

At some point I stopped trying to nurture what each of my kids had inside, stopped caring about my own talents, given to me by God, and surrendered it all in the name of having enough to eat and financial security.

I have fought and cried, battled and prayed - for my beautiful kids to behave - to surrender to society's rules and norms, and lost many opportunities to see them in their own light- from their own eyes- from God's.

If my fervent prayer had been answered many years ago, perhaps my living would have been made from my art, instead of the many careers I have ventured into solely to earn a living. But my parents started the cycle, creating a belief in me that artists could not make a living.... that my talent was not worthy of investing money in an education to better.

In pushing my own kids in the same manner- towards careers with potential to earn money for them in the future, I have unwittingly joined the conspiracy.

But! There is still hope. 
A son who prays now - a daughter who begins to believe that she is not too short. If I can still communicate to them to have a bit of trust in God, to believe in themselves and the gifts they have inside... well then I would have given them a far greater gift than an inheritance after death- as they would be able to reach their heights, with no need for anyone else - other than God, and who they choose to have in their lives, without having to take jobs which make them exchange what they love for what they need one day.

I hope there is still time, time in which they are still willing to believe in me- the inadvertent dimmer of those once great and wonderful sparks.

Never put out the lights of another's dreams.
I have honestly always tried to encourage every dream my children, friends.(...even
strangers) have had in life, since my own were circumvented early and only now, in my late
40's, beginning to come back to me again as possibilities.
Life is so much more than we acknowledge it to be, then when we merely work to
succeed financially.   We stop seeing the gifts that are all around us, and those
moments are lost to us as a result.

I hope that the next generation will learn from our mistakes, with careful mentoring from
 those of us who have finally figured it out, and that our grandchildren will be raised
differently, with reverence for their unique talents, and their dreams given nourishment,
And given a place in society to flourish, not just to scrape by if they are not geared  
toward the mainstream academic career paths that we so love to embrace, in the honor of stability, security and conformity. 

We owe the artists, writers, musicians, poets, designers, dancers…..a respectful and
independent place in the future, if it is to have the beauty and wonder it deserves.

Katherine Felix
This piece won a Silver award for Prose in the Literary Arts section of NIFCA in November 2011.

Unpalatable Brew

I am a poet.  
As such, I consider words to be sacred; understanding fully that they have the power to influence those who read them and touch others’ lives; in a positive or a negative manner. When I compose lyrics for a spoken word piece, the lines of a poem or short story meant to be read; I am mindful of my words and chose them with care; as do the best of the many poets and spoken word artists whom I am honoured to know personally.

It is my belief that journalists have every bit as much responsibility, if not more; to be careful to research and thoroughly understand the subjects that they write about and that they should consider the impact of their words, since, not only do the members of the general public believe fully what they read in these articles; since what is published in a newspaper is considered to have the weight of truth; but they should also consider the impact of those words on the persons about whom they are writing.

Appearing in the Nation’s Sunday Sun, the weekend after the NIFCA Drama/Speech Finals, an article written by Ricky Jordan, entitled “Tasty brew” may have seemed, on the surface, to be complimentary to the art form of spoken word.  However, if you were to ask those artists who were singled out in that article as mere clones of Adrian Green; or ask Adrian Green himself, you would get a much different picture than the one painted in that article where Mr Jordan singled out several artists as clones of Adrian Green, and accused him of imposing his personality on the spoken word artists that he mentors.

It has been my experience that Adrian Green is extremely mindfully and deliberate in the amount and type of guidance that he gives fellow artistes to ensure that whatever they create; whether in written or spoken word format; comes from their perspective, their souls.  To suggest otherwise points to a lack of appreciation of the dynamics of the Spoken word community here in Barbados, and that none of the artists being written about were interviewed and I doubt that their pieces were listened to; with a critical; informed ear.

Perhaps what confused Mr Jordan was the fact that the people that he singled out as being clones of Adrian Green wore the same T-shirt that he did that night, a shirt with a message related to the years that Spoken Word has struggled to become recognized in the NIFCA process as a separate art form from Drama or Speech, where the judging criteria and the lack of a microphone has kept many Poets from entering in previous years, and some from entering again this year as well.
 
Perhaps if Mr Jordan had done some research into the meaning behind these shirts, his story would have been a well written article focused on the triumph of this growing art form in finally being able to gain the optional use of a microphone. His article could have been filled with stories from this year’s NIFCA Drama/Speech competition, would have explained why there were so many artists who entered spoken word pieces this year, and a bit more about the poetic families of “Iron Sharpen Iron”, and the “League of Extraordinary Poets” referred to in DJ Simmons piece “DIRTY”.

There were many persons present who wore the same shirts that Adrian Green, DJ Simmons, Robert Gibson and Oswald Joe donned for their performances at finals and there were several poets who are also members of the same poetic “family” who did not wear that shirt for their performances.  Those not wearing a WARNING T-Shirt were not labelled by Mr Jordan as 
“clones”, yet they were just as influenced; or not; by Adrian Green as those who wore the group's shirts on stage.

The morning this article came out, I heard, one by one, the crushing of the spirits of poets who worked diligently to craft unique pieces which carried messages, themes to entertain, or were written and delivered to evoke an emotional response from an audience….each one a talented writer; each who attended workshops and subjected their pieces to the review of their peers, week after week in preparation for NIFCA prelims, semi-finals, and then finals.
 
Robert Gibson grew from a nervous reader into a crowd-pleasing spoken word artist with his piece ‘Luscious’.  DJ Simmons carefully and artfully crafted a social commentary piece ‘Dirty’ that was deliberate and entertaining in content, wordplay, microphone use and delivery.  Oswald Joe came out of his comfort zone, moving deliberately away from dramatic arts and stepping out on stage for the first time as a spoken word artist with ‘Tingling Feeling’.

These artists, including Adrian Green himself, are influenced by the best in their craft.  They have studied other performances; they have looked critically at their own words, performances and delivery.  They each consciously thought about how best to use the microphones reluctantly granted to them.  They worked hard, and their individual talents are worthy of a balanced and educated critique, rather than an article without substantive background on the genre being reported on and which dismissed their efforts in a single fell swoop of the pen, condemning their talent as nothing more than an extension of another artist.  Although Adrian Green has assuredly inspired, influenced and encouraged each of them, as he has done for many others; he has not been guilty of the type of “cloning” that Mr Jordan infers in his article.
These artists had the support of all their peers, went through many hurdles in the NIFCA entry and judging process for their chosen art form, and the words published in this article stole something important from them.
   
Perhaps it is a matter of exposure.  If so, I would like to offer to be Mr Jordan’s personal guide on a poetic journey though YouTube, and the local Spoken word venues, in order to allow him to see the differences between a piece like “Luscious”, and ‘Big Rock Lyrics’.  I know the writers, as well as many other artists here in Barbados would welcome the opportunity to sit with any of the members of the press to give them an insight into the creative sector, and to help them become familiar with the various genres’ as well as to discuss the future and the challenges faced by artists
.
There is so much going on, worthy of being spoken about; of being reported on; in the Arts these days.  Artists are coming together, and doing what needs to be done, lifting ourselves and each other up; instead of waiting for government assistance.  These should be the articles being written, rather than pieces which minimize the efforts of artists who strive to be professional and who work hard to always be improving.

If you are interested, the message on our T-Shirts is:      WARNING…..I AM A POET….I Speak My Mind and they prominently feature a microphone to represent the Spoken Word artists’ victory in finally having been given the option to use mics while performing this year.  
  
For all the journalists out there, who report on the arts, artists realize that we need your reviews and we appreciate critical feedback which will help us improve aspects of our craft, but please, interview the persons being written about; know the background of the process that put the artists or their works on the stage in the first place.  Write about what you know, have gained experience in covering, or do the research.   Every Spoken word artist that entered this year made an effort to be there, pushed themselves to perform professionally, and to be the best they were capable of.  

It should not be too much to ask that the journalists who cover the event hold themselves to the same standards. 
                      
Katherine Felix