Lemon Grass
As I sit down to reflect on the past week, I’m struck by the melody of MF DOOM’s “Lemon Grass” echoing in my mind. It’s been over a week since I listened to it, yet its beauty continues to linger, a soundtrack to my thoughts and emotions.
My journey with DOOM’s music has been prolific lately, ever since celebrating my cousin’s birthday on April 5th. His raw beats resonate with me on a deep level, like a kind of hip hop binaural sound, offering solace in a world that has felt chaotic and overwhelming every day for the past two years. A recent encounter with a local human design practitioner further solidified this sense of disconnection from societal norms. As an emotional manifestor, I’ve long felt out of place in a society rife with messiness and discord.
Navigating this terrain has been challenging, to say the least. The fractals of society’s dysfunction seem to surround me at every turn, testing my resolve. Despite my disillusionment with community, I’ve found solace in my daily practices, finding joy in the discipline of staying focused and planning my steps moment to moment.
DOOM’s music, particularly tracks like “Lemon Grass” and “Lavender Buds,” resonate deeply with this sense of unease. “Lemon Grass” in particular feels like a meditation on death and rebirth, a melancholy yet beautiful ode to the cyclical nature of life. It moved me so much that I felt compelled to create a playlist for my son — a ritual from the past that serves as a token of my love and affection.
In a society that often limits us to unrealized potential, even to the point that I never thought to make a playlist for my child (!), it’s important to cherish the small moments of joy and connection. Whether it’s making a playlist, gathering book recommendations or poignant quotes, or simply picking “special grasses” as Brother Ray would ask of us, these acts serve as reminders of the love and respect that does indeed exist within our families and communities. I don’t believe there is a material gift that can otherwise compete with these acts.
As I wonder about what comes next, because I am at my wits ends most of the time right now, I’m reminded of the power of adaptation. Despite the uncertainty that surrounds me, there is strength in embracing the unknown and finding beauty amidst the chaos. Moving forward, I’ll continue to draw inspiration from DOOM’s music and the small rituals that bring meaning to my life, trusting that they will guide me through these turbulent times.
I want justice for Black people, for the Haiti’s, the Congo’s, the Sudan’s, and the Gaza’s. I suppose my disillusionment stems from observing an abundance of performance at pivotal moments when individual actions can shape justice. Clarity seems elusive to those within my sphere of influence. And yet, I know this is all part of the process. Lucille Clifton had to know. So did Zora Neale Hurston. And Audre Lorde. And Toni Morrison. And, and, and…
smokable tea leaves in rose petals made by Bri Young Roane at Shop Gypsy Yoga Mama.
— Exotique, a Durham favorite, sells an amazing lemongrass oil for burning it all to the ground, that it might all be regenerated
22:36 ET 21 APR 2024
