The soil, a neighbor and the beauty of slowness.

I had thirty minutes before SafeSpaceSunday would start and I did not want to be late. I also knew that if I didn’t get a walk in around the neighborhood that my step count would be severely lacking for the day. It had to be done, I decided. Unscrewing the handle from the broom that I use like David’s slingshot against Goliath (only I was going to jab a loose dog to death) I readied myself for my music-less brisk pace walk in the heat of the day. It had to be done, and quickly, or so I thought.

As I rounded the corner, I happened to see a neighbor working in their front yard. I had seen this neighbor numerous times, only we never had exchanged real words. Maybe an occasional “Hi”, but no real substance. Was he married, a widow, or an ax murderer? I wouldn’t know.

I was halfway past his front yard when we exchanged our regular “hellos” only this time we had a real conversation. I learned that he went to high school with my father, that he was in real estate, that he had spent some time in Oklahoma. He learned from me that I was growing weary in my current environment, was disgruntled about my writing career, and was dead set on movement, but the who, the how and the where were currently alluding me. During this exchange I learned that he was about peace, and I was about action.

As he gave me insight on properly laying foundation, I impatiently shifted my weight from foot to foot, constantly checking my timer to see just how many minutes I had left before I would need to cut my walk short altogether.

“I don’t have time for this” was the thought reverberating through my mind. I had somewhere to be.

And as I was anxiously wishing for movement, completion and pretending those two things would bring me rest, I paused and looked at my neighbor, as he slowly and methodically poured what look like soil onto a portion of his yard. He looked so peaceful. So at ease with the flow of life, and I instantly felt frustration. I wished I could be slow. I’ve never been one to sit still, not since I was a child. In fact, there was once a time period where I would get F’s on assignments for rushing. One year felt like the year of rushing, doctor visits and rugs. My mother cried often. I don’t blame her, the only child you have and the school says they don’t focus.

What’s the rush?

I sit in this season, asking myself this question. I have always been headed somewhere and fast. There’s a difference between busyness and productivity. Or, as my good friend says, “all good ain’t God.”

As this man slowly spoke to me with what seemed like not a care in the world, I watched the soil fall to the empty patch of grass in his front yard. I watched the squat that he held so comfortably and laughed to myself. He had to be about 60+ hitting the Meg thee stallion squat comfortably, yet my 31-year-old self couldn’t even sit criss cross applesauce.

“I need to stretch more” I thought to myself.

I need to slow down, actually. Because, where I was headed was not going anywhere. And, being in a state of perpetual motion (I have learned) simply leaves one exhausted and confused.

I thanked him for his time, and finished my shortened walk and made it to where I was headed early.

The Beauty of Slowness

Slowness is beautiful, and if we are all gardeners or farmers in life’s soil, things grow and bloom when they are ready. Not a second before. In the midst of me sprinting places, I am learning that whatever is going to happen, will happen. There’s a song titled “Stop Trying to be God.” I imagine it speaks about the illusion of control. I say the word illusion, because we really have no true control over outcomes in life, just strategy and effort. The flowers bloom and the crops grow when in season. We can cultivate the soil. Till it, pray for rain, smile at sunshine. But growth is God, and we can’t control God.

The beauty of caterpillars dying to become butterflies and moving with intention is that rushing is living blindly. Smelling roses in the rose garden when you’re there is better than imagining what roses smell like when you’re gone. Dreaming of bigger rose gardens when you’re amongst sunflowers is making an agreement to forever be discontent.

As I ramble, it now comes to me the bible verse where the apostle Paul mentions being content in all situations. Paul must have embraced slowness.

As you, whoever you are think about walking in life’s garden, headed somewhere, but on a path rather quickly to nowhere, may you take it from me that the soil is where the growth takes place, that rushing is living blindly, and that you are a neighbor to someone. Sniff the roses and take a squat. It does not have to be done quickly, this I know. Slowness is growth, and growth is beauty.

I love you,

Tonee B. Shelton

No one is coming to save you. Duh!

Howdy! I’m excited to announce the release of my new t-shirt, “No one is coming to save you.”, a consistent reminder that we have the power to craft our dream life. Additionally, my first book of prose, No one is coming to save you. debuts this summer and this shirt is the walking billboard for the cover. (Surprise)

What you can expect from this book:

1. A deeper insight into my life, and all of the ways my eccentricities have propelled me to success once I made the decision to embrace them.

2. A different way to view your capacity for growth. No one is coming to save you is a short, sweet reminder that everything we need is within, and the path towards success starts with saying “Yes” to your dreams and putting actions toward your goals.

3. A boost of motivation on your life journey.

Follow me!

Grab my shirt today and stay tuned for the book launch this summer!

Purchase your shirt here: http://www.bettawatchyatone.com/shop

Connect with me on Instagram: Toneebshelton

I love you,

Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

Musings of an Overwhelmed Daisy

I watched the sunrise this morning, as I sipped warm coffee before work, and I sighed. Relief, because I survived another winter. Spring has sprungeth, and hopefully, some better days for me, and the world we inhabit, will spring, once more. Like daisies pushing forth from old soil, I have grown to languish in the small, slow moments of life. Winter was hard. And not hard like falling flat on your face on solid ground, but hard like clay. Slowly, over time, the dark mornings and even darker evenings, cold weather and lack of sunshine in my life from November until, well today, were hard for me.

I can’t quite shake the daily feeling that I’m forgetting something. In the rush and hurry of a world, both real and digital, I have to admit that I was, and probably still am, overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, overwhelmed by a phone and computer screen, overwhelmed by the most recent death of people close to me, overwhelmed by my desire for change but confusion as to where and how; just simply overwhelmed by life and it’s constant whisper at my back, “Go!” Go where? With whom? How? I’m too tired to even start.

The winter was hard, and not just for me, but for all of the “me’s” of the world struggling to regain some sense of clarity in a world that endlessly screams that everything, everywhere is all wrong. But, this morning, I sipped caffeine and watched my first sunrise in four months.

The tulips, daisies, and weeds are ready to push through the soil, to say “hello world”! To signal the arrival of a new season. And no matter how overwhelmed my current reality is, individually or collectively, the world still turns on its’ axis. The babies are entering the earth, and leaving it. The funerals are happening, and so are the births. The divorce papers are being served at the same moments as someone awkwardly bends down to propose. The termination conversations are being reviewed by human resources at the same moment as recruiters are discussing new salary packages with hopeful employees; life is cyclical like that. I received a phone call that a friend of mine had unexpectedly passed away. An hour later I learned that a dear friend of mine was expecting a grandchild. To couple sadness and joy was difficult, but real. I allowed both feelings to manifest and bloom within me. Because life is hard, and we are the few that survived Covid-19, but we lost. We lost people, stability, and even hope. We ditched social mores, fought over masks, overworked ourselves, tap danced with apathy, or romanced productivity, all in an attempt to just be. We survived, and like all survivors, we will never be the same. We have scarring to remind us that something painful occurred, but we made it. The scar reminds us never to forget those that did not.

In the midst of being overwhelmed, there are still slow mornings with sunrises. There are winters, and their are springs. Push through the soil, my daisy darling, as spring is here, and the earth is still in rotation.

I love you,

Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

If Tomorrow Never Comes

We Will all Become Ghosts

I sit in a chair in my living room, reading a biography on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., trying to gain more insight and wisdom as I write a new poem to be read at the local MLK day festivities next week. As I turned page after page, thumbing through one man’s annotated version of millions’ peoples’ perception of one of our best and brightest humans, I reflect on the finality of death. To take things a step further, I am reflecting on what a life worth dying for should look like.

Everything that I read about this man, who carefully and strategically planned everything in his life, from his wife, to leveraging the church as a hub for civil rights for black people, showcased a life well lived. Although no man is perfect, some men exercise their purpose and imperfections much better than others. Dr. King could have settled for being an inspirational pastor, a dynamic wordsmith and an innovative theologian. He could have done everything that I just mentioned and left an indelible mark on our society, only instead of being murdered at the age of thirty-nine, he could have lived well into his 80’s or 90’s, as someone’s pawpaw in a rocking chair. His calling that he heard desired a response that ended in his own bloodshed, much similar to Jesus Christ.

Ghosts have legacy. What will yours be? I understand that as you read this, I am saying nothing and everything simultaneously. Dr. King’s ghost will live on to haunt us forever, and thank goodness, as we often need to be scared into doing the right thing. In skin, this man stood for us all to see, do, and dream of better. He sacrificed mental, emotional and physical abuse for unborn bodies. He wore shoes too small and crawled on hands and knees for a freedom we so willingly tap dance on. He stretched out his hands to many and preached a story that any was welcome. He painted a picture of injustice that was sold and paid with by his life ending.

Dr. King’s ghost is not in the graveyard. It is within the hallowed halls of higher education, meandering through the bones and marrow of deep thinkers, pulsating in the hearts of theologians, sliding down the faces of pastors that bare the brunt of a church on their shoulders. His ghost wraps his arms of comfort around poets and authors, guiding our pens as we describe and narrate the beauty and hideousness of our society. His ghost lives on. But what of yours?

As your heart still beats, I implore you to think about what you are willing to die for and what you are willing to live for. When we leave this earthly realm, their will be screenshots and pictures on walls, Facebook posts and decade old tweets to keep us haunting others. But before it comes to this, I dare you to choose the theme of your legacy. At the top of my mind, Dr. King’s ghost screams “service above self.”

I’m not asking you to die for anything. I am asking you to think about what you will do as you live. Cheers to a purposeful haunting.

Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

Fear Ye, Fear Ye!

“What one fears can strengthen, can heal.”

I sit in a local tea and boba shop, pouring over Women Who Run With the Wolves for the second time in my adult life, excited for another year around the sun, and anxious about where I will end up in 363 more days.

There are so many texts that reference fear. Most of us understand that fear is a response programmed into our body to keep us safe. On the other hand, safety can keep us stagnant. In this new year, I sit and think deeply about what I fear and why I fear it. I also reflect on how much I grow each time I face and overcome an old fear, such as my fear of failure. As much as I try, this is a fear that haunts me each season, as the achiever in me hates to lose, be perceived as weak etc. Once I acknowledged my fear of failure, I sat with it, spoke to God and others about it, and the elementary version of Tonee came to memory. My fear of failure stems from being a warrior of childhood bullying. Somewhere along the way, I identified that always winning, or being seen as a winner/achiever was a way to gain friends, be liked, or at least a distraction from the fact that I was different from everyone in my class. As a response, I dulled myself down to fit in and I chose the easier ways of living to avoid failing. Sounds like a solid strategy right? Only it’s not. No risks means no rewards, and so my fear of failure literally stagnates my progress and purpose in life. Can you relate? Are you pausing on taking that next step out of fear of failing? Who of you knows it’s time to resign, move, divorce, get married, enroll, take a promotion, take a pay cut, say “no”? I ask you to reflect as to what is stopping you?

In essence, fearing something is natural, but allowing fear to paralyze us is the problem. I write this to you in the new year to encourage you to reflect on what you fear and why you fear it. I also write this to remind you that on the other side of fear is the life that you truly desire.

Typically, at the end of the year or the very beginning of the year, we allot time to vision board, write reflections, and to strategize on what we desire to accomplish for the next 365 days. We write out prayers, cut out magazine clippings and with Elmer’s glue and a ballpoint pen, we put our desires out into mother universe in anticipation that she will grant our wishes. We hope that we aren’t asking for too much, and that the days, hours and minutes of our future lives will be kind to us. This is my desire and prayer for you this year as you plan; that you will ask for what you want and dare to eat, sleep, talk, walk and pray like the person of your dreams. My prayer is that you don’t allow fear to bind you to safety, stagnation, or servitude. I affirm that you are worthy and wonderful. I pray that you are bold enough to put yourself in positions to potentially fail, and do so over and over again. I affirm that you are worthy of thriving in the midst of fear.

Fear is a built in response, but don’t use it as a crutch to prop you up to stand in one place. It’s a new year. Just be. Be about that action. Be about your business. Be about your beliefs. Be yourself. Fear it and do it anyway.

I love you.

Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

Reflection Questions:

What do I fear?

Why do I fear it?

If I did not have this fear, what would be different about my life?

What will I work on this year?

Link to Women Who Run With the Wolves: https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/241823

I’s Tired, Boss

When launching your own business, people don’t tell you the level of exhaustion that comes with being the product and promoting the product.

2023 was a beautiful year for my poetry. I self-published a chapbook, watched Identity Crisis (2022) gain more notoriety, and I said “yes” to 76 poetry readings.

The poet in me is elated.

The human in me is tired.

Still love you.

Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

What are you doing?

Birthdays are always a surreal moment for me. Physical markers of time moving and gentle nudges to acknowledge the fact that I am one year older and perhaps not much wiser. Thirty-one has been an interesting year, as professional success and opportunities have presented themselves, but personal growth has taken a backseat like a toddler on a road trip.

Birthdays are always surreal. I find myself a bit melancholic each year, as the question that often reverberates in the back of my mind is, “What did you accomplish this year?”.

Accomplishing.

Productivity.

Work.

All concepts under constant scrutiny these days. Work-life balance is a wellness mantra, but what about those of us who just don’t feel alive without creating? At my core, is the soul of an artist. I, quite literally don’t feel well if I have not worked towards or on something. Is this wrong?

Birthdays are always surreal. But, as a very undisciplined Christian, when I begin to do the dance with my quarterly crisis, I get very still and reflect on what I believe God will ask me when this life is over. It won’t be “What did you accomplish this year?” “What event did you produce this year?” “Did you show your work?”

Birthdays are always surreal, but on my death day, I imagine the good Lord will ask, “What did you do with what I gave you?”

What are you doing with what He gave you?

*Reference Matthew 25:14 – 25

I love you,

Tonee B. Shelton

To Be Pretty

Focus, Please

It’s been a second. I hope that you are getting the rest and relaxation that evades me at the moment. Let’s chat about the task at hand, shall we? As in, what should you actually be focused on and all of the ways that you willingly allow yourself to be distracted. And by you, I’m mainly referring to me.

I can openly admit that I struggle with focusing, and that has been a common theme in life. Locking in on one thing and one thing only has been my Achilles heel, as repetition and boredom drive me insane. As of recent, I have decided to embark on a lifestyle transformation. I have cut back on fast food, most meats aside from seafood, and significantly increased my fruit and veggie intake. I have also made a bit of a lackluster, (but still an attempt) at exercising most days of the week. Couple these new behaviors with the addition of having to snap pics of the food I eat to an accountability partner, and I am pleased to announce that I am no longer a 227 pound person, but as of today, gravity is pulling me down at approximately the weight of 204 pounds in a little under three months. I’m truly pleased. Also, for those of you in the 200 club, much love. Love you.

I write this to say that the scale transformation is not simply a result of a mindset, although mindset is key. I am actively losing weight because I had to do what I have often struggled with; focus on the task at hand.

In order to lose twenty pounds, you must first lose one. Many days I worried and worried about losing weight. I knew that the ache in my back, the windedness I felt every time that I climbed stairs, and the lethargy with which I approached my day after lunch was a byproduct of a much larger problem. My body was not operating at it’s peak efficiency, and I made up my mind that I wanted different, but how? I had to jump from worry to action! I had to ask myself questions like, what am I eating that is causing bloating? Do I drink enough water? When I was 155 pounds, what did I do everyday? Thinking about these things forced me to focus on what small tasks needed to be implemented in order for me to stop thinking about losing weight and actually doing the tasks that would make me lose weight.

In order to be different, you have to be different. Annoying, I know, but what you focus on, multiplies. What is the task at hand? When we commit to working on small tasks, we are now headed in a direction. It is up to you to actually plan, because you can do a ton of small tasks that lead to everywhere, which is truly leading to nowhere. I’ve been there, in the name of busyness. Busyness attempts to do it all. Productivity does what matters. Ladies and gentlemen, we are being productive, and there’s no shame in it.

There’s a part of a music video where a famous rapper is the football coach of a team and the camera zeroes in on him as the music breaks and his voice says, “Focus.” There are tasks at hand in your life. Focus on knocking them off, one by one. Log off of the internet, get off of your cell phone, and start hitting the gym, praying, journaling, resting and producing. Focusing on the task at hand will get you where you desire to be and once you’ve built a muscle for knocking out tasks, you will be equipped to stay where you are. Focusing requires action that says “no” to donuts at the company luncheon, and says “yes” to exercising when our workout partner is not answering the phone. Focusing is that nagging voice in your spirit reminding you that it’s time to move, drink more water, and go to bed at a decent hour. Focus says, “no matter what happens, I’m getting this done.” Focus is the constant reminder that you are on a mission. Let’s get it done.

Focusing on the task at hand is easier said than done, but you must do it in order to grow. You can do it! And please note that it will be very difficult. Personally, I know that my environment can dictate my mood. I am easily susceptible to the people around me, hence why even on this brief journey, there have been weeks where my focus waxed and waned because I took my eye off of the prize (weight loss) and focused on celebration of small wins on the scale. That’s right, the person encouraging you to focus on small tasks stopped focusing on those tasks, and guess what; once my focus was divided, my body took the hit. Progress over perfection, yes, but focus is what separates the good from the great! You are reading this post because you are great!

Reflection Questions:

1. What keeps me from accomplishing tasks? Why?
2. What task has to be done today?
3. What task has to be done this week?
4. What task has to be done this month?
5. Where are my tasks leading me?
6. What type of accountability do I need to implement in order to ensure that I achieve my tasks? (planner, googlecalendar, notebook, coach, therapist, friend)

Cheers to you for committing to focusing. You are on a mission. Dream big! Let’s get it!

-Ms. Tonee B. Shelton

On the News! (For something good.)

https://www.kwtx.com/video/2023/10/09/kwtx4-author-tonee-b-shelton-shares-details-about-new-poetry-book-speaking-86th-annual-texas-state-naacp-convention/