3 Things I Ask of You, God, Now That I'm 30

Lord, God, Shiva, Yaweh, whomever is in the office today-

Hustle my shizzle and deliver me to where it's best. K?

Bring me to where I am of the most use.

Yes'm Jesus, life, cosmic intelligence, Milky Way Magic Unicorn energy,

take the wheel.

Steer me, on purpose, and ask me -

ask me what I want.

Say, 'what are 3 things you ask of me, Erica'

Go on. Do it. Please.

I want

you to let me:

LOVE

I want

You to let me

SERVE

I want

You to let me

REMEMBER...

Let me LOVE - 

I want to be specific and thoughtful with my love, God. Real, true, sincere, inconvenient-at-times love for myself and my brothers and my sisters.

Pure love. I ask that my love be pure. I want my love to be so pure and unadulterated that I have an easy, maybe even joyful, time letting things and people, go. I want the way I love to be easily recognizable - a landmark for people. A place they can call home.

God, I want to want love. I want to want love so bad that I can convincingly act like I need it. Because I do. I want to be loved, and I know I'm powerful and I don't want to hurt anybody. Okay?

God, I basically want to marry Pure Love. I want to fuck Pure Love. I want Pure Love to fuck me, back.

And I want to come.

more than once.

every day.

Let me SERVE -

Allah, Almighty, Sister...

Just let me serve the people. I want to do that thing YOU do, where I can be of service without feeling as though my well is running dry. How do I do that?

And I want to keep rubbing oils on all the people, God. I want to remind them, with my hands, that there is such a thing as good touching. Appropriate touching. That it is not taboo. That we all need it.

Unicorn Spirit, I ask that you let me serve with

strong boundaries,

a firm spine,

a discerning heart.

I have a hunch, that over-generosity is a reflection of lack of self-worth. I ask that you show me whether or not there is truth in that.

Let Me REMEMBER -

Sparkly Absolute Being, Your Holiness, Bro...

I ask you to let me remember. Remembering is very different than not forgetting. Remembering is a verb. I want to verb the crap out of that bitch.

When I feel hungry, I want to remember all the times I have been fed.

When I feel abandoned, I want to remember all the times I have not, in fact, been abandoned.

When I feel really, really lost, let me remember that time my friend saw me in a crowded place and said, "Thank God I found you." Yeah, don't forget to let me remember that one, God.

3 Things I Ask of You, God, Now that I'm 30 -

Let me Love.

Let me Serve.

Let me Remember.

Amen. Om shanti. Shalom. Thanks. Bye Felicia!

I Remem...

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"I remem..." By, Erica Jacobs

I remember when I didn't have a cell phone

and I wasn't sexually active

and life was simpler,

maybe. 

When I'd read storybooks to my stuffed animals,

present each page like my teacher did 

at school. 

I remember wedding albums;

my Parents',

her parents',

their parents'. 

I wanted that 

I want that. 

I remember my Belle and Beast

figurines

dancing at their pretend wedding

on top of my boom box

to "The Hustle".

I wanted a floor length gown, too;

but not yellow. 

I remember the first time I weighed myself 

100lbs. 

Is that too high? 

It's too high. 

Right?

The Cinnamon Toast Crunch

so high up, too high up.

I remember the loudness 

of the step stool.  

Bowl

after bowl

after bowl

after bowl. 

I remember sleepovers 

"Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board" 

"Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board"

I'm anything 

but light as a feather. 

I remember the first time

I stopped 

when I was full

Waited to feel hungry again. 

And I did feel hungry again

so I ate. 

Stopped when I felt full. 

Eat. 

Stop. 

Repeat. 

Eat. 

Stop. 

Repeat. 

Eat. 

Talk. 

Stop. 

Repeat. 

Eat. 

Watch TV. 

Laugh. 

Stop. 

Still hungry. 

Eat. 

Repeat. 

I remember what it took

to slow down,

to listen,

to chew,

to breathe. 

Food,

turns out,

is just food. 

So I focus

on other things;

I still want a floor length gown,

a white one. 

And a cake. 

And a groom. 

And a wooden floor

where we dance the Hustle. 

You remember 

where I'm going with this...

Wholeheartedly,

Erica

How Moments Become Holy

In honor of #TBT and my process of allowing bits, pieces and chunks of my childhood that no longer serve me to fall away, I want to write about the things I must keep with me. I've landed in many Holy Moments, usually sporadic, unplanned, totally necessary. These are some of the most significant, life-affirming and breath-giving memories I have. And even as a grown woman, every once in a while, a Holy Moment finds me and I am reminded of what really matters...

(I'd love to hear some of YOUR Holy Moments in the comments below!) xoxo

Holy Moments by, Erica Jacobs

Sometimes a little girl will end up in a moment she never wants to leave.

Like child’s play;

perfectly unplanned,

completely timely.

She allows herself to get lost in the great knowing she is enough.

Sometimes a little girl’s hair will be combed through and through,

with trusted fingertips,

from her forehead to the split ends of her wild hair.

She lets someone love her.

Sometimes a little girl will lie on a concrete driveway,

gaze at a palm tree’s crown.

Ants make their way onto her toes,

in a single file line.

She does not question validity of her thoughts,

as her mind waltzes through rhythms of time.

Sometimes a little girl’s childhood

will be affirmed—

unabashed laughter,

sprawled on a dusty basement floor.

She wonders not,

about to whom she is worthy,

but who is worthy to her.

Sometimes a little girl will drape her body,

over the lap of someone she loves.

While heavy tears flow free,

she allows herself to just be held.

Sometimes a little girl will wish these moments

went on forever;

that they happened all the time.

She may realize, though,

a holy moment isn’t a moment at all—

but a feeling deep in her gut,

accessible to her,

anytime.

Wherever she may be,

however old she is,

a holy moment

is never far from reach.

Some Holy Moments as a grownup: