Buju Banton, Destiny
This is a letter I wrote to someone in prison in 2009. I am hoping it might inspire someone who is having a hard time with life.
To______,
Hello,
I got your letter.
Can’t say I was real happy about it after I read it…can’t really say I was real happy about it before I read it. I know you are more than likely going to ask me for something.
I know you will usually be polite about asking me but I know it is mostly so you will get what you want-sort of a syrupy politeness. I also know you are going to tell me how bad it is, being in there.
Well you didn’t disappoint in asking for something but you did surprise me buy the harsh tone by which you ask it. I wrote it off to you just pms-ing. I know men don’t really do that but they sure do something the same as women when they are feeling down and depressed. Men call it anger because it is more macho but really it is just feeling down and out.
I have a few comments to what you wrote: as if that surprises you.
First. The blame game really does not help you. I compare it to seeing the glass half empty.
I know you are not in the category of people that see the glass half full but it really would not hurt you to try to jump the fence and go on their side. It makes life feel a whole lot better.
Did you know you have that choice-the choice of feeling a whole lot better about life? You every read about someone that had something horrible happen to them but yet they pulled themselves from the rubble and made a new start. Often times they did not do this because someone was standing next to the rubble giving them a hand and a brand new set of clothes and a new car to drive away from the rubble in. No, they dusted themselves off with their very own hands after they crawled away from it on hands and knees. Once they were clear they were free to walk or run but there is almost never a hot car ready to speed them away from it all. That really only happens in the movies.
These same people that made life better still have many hardships to come and they will keep dusting themselves off. They do it because the only other choice is to be angry and blame others. They are choosing love over hate. There are plenty of people that choose hate over love. I am not sure what makes someone choose hate over love. It does not feel better. I am not sure if it is easier. I can think about times I have chosen hate over love. We have all done it, well most of us have. I believe there are a few saints out there that always choose love. I have never met them. I have not met the Dali Lama. I am not sure if even he has always chosen love over hate. I believe Ram Das has chosen fear over love, which is in the same category as hate. I know he has spent most of his life loving others, a whole lot more than me.
But here’s the thing. I feel hate or fear or anger for a short time. I am talking about sometimes an hour, usually less. Then I stand outside of myself and ask myself a few question like “does this really feel good, is there another way I could react, did I really just do that-it was so unproductive in where I see myself going, I was such a bitch-I really did not handle that well.” I know when I bring my bad attitude into a room where people are; mostly what I will get is people having a bad attitude back at me. It is contagious. I am getting what I am giving. I have tested this, when I go in with a smile most the time I will get a smile back. When I don’t, I try to give that person space and know this is probably just a week moment for them. My staying positive will have an effect on that person. They may not let their guard down while they are in front of me but my niceness will linger on them, like a virus when someone sneezes into their hand, it is not possible to just wipe it off. That smile or nice comment is what they call ‘pay it forward’. Ever hear of the movie? it’s about someone doing something truly nice to another and it causes that person to do something nice at some point in the near future.
So whom do you want to be, a person stuck in the muck just waiting for someone to pull them out or someone that claws their way out.
Sugar Minott dies of a heart related ailment this past Saturday.
Coral Bay Bridge
This little bridge is in Coral Bay, St John, US Virgin Islands. It is next to a little resturant called Donkey Dinner.
It has been here ever since I can remember and I have lived here since 1989. Sorta. Really 1983 but I can’t remember a bridge from that long ago.
Anyone know when it was built? It might belong to the Sprave’s family.
Bridge to nowhere!
St John 1983
I was living on a boat in Cruz Bay and every Wednesday night you could hear Cool Sessions Brass play into the wee morning.
It would laul me to sleep. I loved it.
This video is from Carnival 2009.
Quite a few years later. Not sure how many original band members are there but I enjoy them just the same.
Even here in little Estero Florida we can jam to good Reggae music.
Went to Gulfcoast Town Center early December to hear a reggae band that we heard advertised in the paper.
The band’s name is Yaad. Wasn’t sure what to expect. We were pleasantly surprised when we saw the group and heard them play. The singers voice was a mix between Garnet Silk and Bob Marley, throw in a tiny piece of Michael Jackson. They played a little too much tourism music, but they did play a few old school tunes. They slowed down a few Bob Marley songs but the soul and sway were still there. They threw in a Calypso tune. Even though it was the cruise ship variety (Hot, Hot, Hot) it was still nice to dance to some Calypso music.
All in all, the music was played well, the voice of the lead singer was very good and we danced all night. Speaking of dancing, there were a few dancers but seems the audience wasn’t really the dancing type or they weren’t the reggae type. The band played under a bandstand outside in slightly chill weather with a beautiful starry night.
Here’s a link to their web page if anyone needs a good reggae band in SW Florida.
Click here to find Yaad Band— garnet music
Yaad
With the waves gently lapping the shore and the warm sand massaging his earthen feet with every solid step taken, the Rastaman walks amongst the rough black rocks lining the right side of the bay.
He selects a large flat rock close to shore, takes off the red, green and gold embroidered burlap sac slung around his chest then proceeds to rests his tools upon the rock; a calabash gourd carved into a bowl, a smooth oblong shaped rock along with a knife. Next he pulls out a large plump piece of healthy green aloe wrapped in cheesecloth. Gently, with large strong chestnut brown hands, he unwraps the aloe. With great focus he removes the prickle sides of the stalk then removes the smooth outer layers making sure to leave as much as possible of the darker color gel that rest next to the skin. This pungent smelling outer layer is where the riches of the plant lie. The bitter taste suggests the highest healing quality. He cuts the pieces of gel into the calabash bowl and begins to crush it with the rock.
The rhythm of the waves coincides with the rhythm of the rock crushing the gel into a velvety cream. He then takes the cheesecloth and irons it wide to the warmth of the rock. The medicinal liquid is placed in the middle then wrapped like a cheese ball. With a firm grip the gel is pressed through the cloth back into the bowl. This filtered aloe is applied to the dreads, methodically covering all the dreads and the scalp. This is the epitome of dread shampoo; it doesn’t just clean, it gives the roots strength. The chunks of aloe left in the cloth can be massaged into the feet or any other part of the body, drawing toxins out, allowing the powerful nutrients to be absorbed.
Over an hour later, he swims out into the sea, springs out of the water like a lion, and shakes his mane; aloe easily flying in all directions. He climbs back on the rock to gather his things, letting the sun and breeze dry his roots, never rubbing with a towel so as not to ‘break de roots’.
This is a Rastaman meditation. This whole process brings your mind to one focus. It is a healing flow with nature; for the mind, body and soul.
succulent aloe
Sorry everyone, but Lemuel wanted his privacy. Much respect.
This video has been made private. I am keeping this post up because of the beautiful comments made.
This is a video by Brandi Mays Production. Lemuel Callwood is the dread. He plays steel pan on the island of St. John.
This cute little guy was just hanging out in the dish drain one summer day. He thought he was so cute that he showed us how he could hang on with both hands then just one, then the other.
We love the geckos. Starbo would come home from doing construction in the hot sun all day and lay on the porch deck to cool off before he hit the showers. He often had a little gecko friend that would hang out with him and eat all the mosquitoes before they ate Starbo.
Spragga Benz – “Livication” from Cari Denhardt on Vimeo.
This song brought me chills. Seeing anyone sing a song to their child who has passed away is heartbreaking.
Spragga Benz sings a tribute song to his son Carlton Grant Junior.
His son was killed August 24, 2008 in downtown Kingston, Jamaica. He was 17.
He was shot twice by the police force there.
The events that happened that day are told two different ways, one way by witnesses and another by the police.
No matter the story, a child is taken away.
Lost forever are the dreams of watching your son become a man, and the chance to witness the journey.
A parent loses his son and all parents cry.
Years go by, a patch of comfort heals the mind but never the heart.
The heart bleeds forever.
