Chronicles of Change Podcast

Episode 002: Creating Over Consuming

Let me start by saying this was not a self-proclaimed challenge; actually, it happened most divinely. Per my life story. My phone fell in dirt, but I thought nothing of it; the fall seemed harmless. To my surprise, when I picked up my phone, it was broken, still able to use, but not the perfect iPhone screen a lot of us stay glued to. I lit my blunt, and on the exhale, I said fuck it, no phone for the next 30 days. This was a pivot point for me because I was struggling to move forward with the last phase of the magazine production process, the cover. I had to troubleshoot the print quality issues, the size restrictions, and the binding technique had to change, so I had to learn a new skill with equipment that was already available. The thermal binding machine was one of the first investments, but I was so intimidated by it that I wouldn’t learn to use it until I had to. Now, I’m sending out six magazines this weekend rather than the one per week pace I was on at the beginning of this pilot. I got back intentional about showing up on the platform that I already grew, rather than trying to go to other platforms to tell them how “popular” I am now on this “elite” platform. Real performative, real…what’s the word…fake. Consuming will have you thinking you are not exactly who you think you are. But, I got myself together and ended the 30 days realizing even the wig look was fake and had to be let go. The moment those clippers touched my hands, I went back to the first day of barber school when the desire to cut my hair sparked. Now, yes, the story goes that a Black woman burnt my hair at the shampoo bowl, but before I was there, when I cut it exactly the way I wanted it, and it laid perfectly. I got that moment back. What a way to confirm this was the path for me, indeed. Creating over-consuming helped me debunk capitalism. There is no hustle when it comes to creating. Resting is one of the most important parts of creating, I’ve found. On a podcast, She’s So Lucky [https://open.spotify.com/show/46muBfvOgp2U44ycqZJPPN?si=7747ae15e0614ed1], Les explained the importance of rest when working out to build muscle. And she went on to explain how it connects to the creation process. When I heard that, something clicked, and I started to intentionally seek rest during my day, as often as I could. Lo and behold, the creativity started flowing like it never had before. I have been experiencing the most random burst of energy that led to me having a full creative idea come to life in the matter of an hour or two. In this timeframe, I’ve written two powerful essays, turned that Substack post into a zine, put it on my website, and sold several copies. September 13th, I’m hosting a zine workshop on Zoom [https://www.jacquieverbal.com/product/protest-zine-workshop/XSVAI4BVOI6WJHNOTDHK6MWT?cs=true&cst=custom] for anyone interested in joining the literary protest movement. Who am I? Well, I’m beginning to understand I’m exactly who I fantasized about becoming. Using rest to replace convenience. I learned most of my frustration comes from a lack of preparation, leaving me to replace my rest with convenience. The more I continue pouring from an empty cup the more I deplete myself of nothing, so I lean into the convenience of things in life. However, the life I built does not align with the “ease” society has to offer. Doordashing dinner because I exhausted my energy creating and didn’t have dinner plans in place. Spending an hour curling a wig, just to go outside on a walk and the curls fall before my online event. Or going to the coffee shop and the espresso is bitter or worst the milk is scolded. Minor inconveniences that were meant to be convenient but fell short. Wearing my natural hair in a short cut that allows me to not only look my best but also achieve this look in a matter of minutes gives me more time to carve moments of rest in my day. With my new look and cafe setup at home, my mornings are slow again with intention and ease. This is a feeling I missed, but I was caught up in the convenience of life. The more I focus on regulating my nervous system, the more my body reminds me of how it operates best, and that’s not always what is convenient. Wait, there are some community updates below that you have been waiting on. Protest Zine Workshop Announcement You can protest in many ways, zines were originally created as a form of protest with radical publishing that preserved the story without being censored. While our history is being erased, it is up to us to preserve the story. Substack might not be your platform for protest, but think about how good you will feel writing without censorship, printing and handbinding your words into art knowing the people in your local community will be impacted. Think for just a moment how it would feel to not feel hopeless and frustrated by the reality of news, because you know you are the journalist telling the story with facts. I want to host a space for us to discuss how important it is for us right now to use our voice, but most importantly our pen to document the story. In this zine making workshop we will turn your favorite Substack post into a zine to give you the skill set needed to take literary protest to the next level. Saturday, September 13th 10am - 11:30am PT To RSVP or purchase any of my current zines available visit my website www.jacquieverbal.com [http://www.jacquieverbal.com]. Chronicles of Change Book Club Corner Over the past couple of weeks, during our weekly “Productivity Hour” LIVE, we have been flowing with ideas. Zine workshop, book club, and even the birth of the Black Recipes newsletter series. I try to update everyone in the chat thread, but if you are like me, going into the chat section of Substack at times can be a daunting task. And I personally do not want to start flooding your inboxes with updates, that’s not what our agreement was when you subscribed. In this new era of finding balance, let this area serve as our corner to stay in touch with book club things. Below is the download to our first book recommendation thank you Reyna Linares Jones [https://substack.com/profile/533725-reyna-linares-jones], The Art Of Living by Epictetus. Originally, I was going to do a poll to what day and time worked best for everyone, and if we wanted to do a Zoom call or keep it here on Substack. The more that I’ve thought about it, here’s what I can offer for us to vote on. Once we get the days/time set then I will send out the link to RSVP for the first date. First half of the book needs to be read by the first meeting, and the second half by the second meeting. This is an easy read so we can honestly read it a few times by the end of the week. Intentional consuming is what I call it. I love y’all, because of you I am blessed to live the life of my dreams. Not because you finacially support my lifestyle but my work is dedicated to community building and look at this! Two community focused events in one month, completely separate from Blackstack. Wow, this is a dream! xoxo, Jacquie This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe [https://jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

Episode 001: A Love Letter To Self

Keys, blunt, and lighter all in hand as I jump into my shoes to run out the door. I just have to get out of here and clear my mind. Normally, I would go straight to the trail and walk alongside the water while smoking, but today I wanted to avoid familiar faces that would force me to smile and wave. This particular morning, I just needed to smoke my weed and be in my head. But just when I thought no one would stop me, I heard the unhoused man sitting on the bench at the corner where I needed to cross, trying to get my attention. Of course, he would catch me before I hit the play button on Spotify, so I pulled back my headphones to see what he needed. Ah, just a simple light to smoke the cigarette butt he found. Cool, I got you bro that requires little to no communication plus I get it, so I walked over and lit the cigarette butt for him. In that moment, we both felt a little sense of hope for the world to come back. He asked for a cigarette, which I don’t smoke, however, I made a promise to myself that I would start keeping a pack of cigarettes just for a moment like this. I can see my life now, reaching into my magic crossbody to feed the birds that I see on my walk, and cigarettes for the many times I’m asked every week. Maybe that moment he and I felt hope again was because we took time to practice basic humanity without judgment. I can’t help but wonder, are people judging me as hard as I’m judging myself? Do others hold me to the same level of standard that I hold myself, and who taught me to believe my own personal standards had to be so high? The obvious answer to that question would be simple: I’m a Black woman in America. Therefore, my value has always been placed at the bottom of the patriarchy, so why would I see value in myself? I must outperform everyone in the room if I want to set foot in it. A conditioning handed to Black women through trauma dates back to the “discovery” of what we call America. Our children for generations have been forced to “maintain” this country while the door has continued to be shut in our faces after being invited into the room. I see it happen so often, I wonder how everyone hasn’t picked up on this pattern recognition yet. Maybe it’s not that people don’t see it, but are deciding to focus on what they can control. A hard lesson I might forever be a student in. This semester is hyper-focused on trying to regulate my nervous system. I would call it an obsession, actually, because I can’t think of anything better to do than something that will bring me calmness in the moment. Peace is almost like a drug once you get a little taste of it. No cloudy thoughts, no more bending over backward for people who expect you to bend without breaking. I still find myself cooking dinner early in the morning, but now it’s a few hours later than normal. Sleeping in has been a result of a more regulated nervous system. Since my father’s death, I’ve realized how much I truly love to cook and how much it heals me. The stillness in the moment, the focus on the cuts and gentle stirs. Those intentional steps taken to transform a family pack of chicken legs, a couple of potatoes, with a few handfuls of green beans into what we call comfort food, or food for the soul. That’s how my words feel now when I write, like love letters to my soul. My soul has been crying for so long to be seen, heard, loved, accepted, desired, or maybe just valued a little. All my life, I have chased outside of myself to be shown my worth, and I’ve been met with a mirror reflecting to me the lack of self-worth I carry. Was the idea that our worth is based on how the world views us in the fine print in the textbooks? Who was teaching this class in school, or what departments received this information in college? I personally just finally realized the world only values me once I learn to value myself. I’m in a season of not only teaching others how to love me properly, but also learning how to receive love unconditionally. I had to learn what that looks like in real time for me, not for the girls on the internet sharing what they are doing. During a long talk in the mirror with myself, I told myself that we need to make our joy the priority over everything now. Because I understand that joy is not a moment in that life shifts completely, no, joy comes in pockets of experiences we create for ourselves. Without the fluffy crap of making a list of activities that bring me joy or make me happy, I just started doing things that genuinely made my shoulders drop just a little bit. I found myself doing things that allowed me to connect with a version of myself I almost left behind. It was like my body was waiting for my mind to finally decide we were worth the joy. Over the past five years, I’ve been on my self-discovery journey, learning all of the things that bring me joy, peace, and happiness. Once I started to seek balance in my life, I put it all together. We create joy, peace, and happiness in our lives by doing things that we enjoy, resulting in us experiencing more balance in our lives. There’s no perfect moment in our lives when things just become better. I thought the happy ever after ending to my story was going to start once I moved into that beautiful apartment with the loft and big windows. Instead, boom, a few weeks later, my mom moved in with me, and my dad died the next day. I ain’t been the same since. Life has had me by my edges so bad, either I’m putting the wig back on or I’m going back bald, but this time by choice. The happy ever after is the narrative you cultivate for your life. Every morning, I take a walk before I write or sit at my desk to work; this is now a non-negotiable in my life. No one can stop me from taking my morning walks, and nothing can prevent me from this necessity for my life. The coffee shop experience is a treat for me for showing up. I stopped bringing drinks home to my family because it was taking away from the experience being for me. I had to learn to be selfish with the parts of my routine that I curated for myself. I’ve been reclaiming my joy again. No longer shrinking myself to the limitations of what once was and living in the now of what is. Shower meditations paired with EFT tapping and lymphatic drainage massages are like a reset button that centers me instantly. Rest looks different now; if I’m not feeling it, then I’m not forcing it. Regulating my nervous system put me back in connection with my body, and I’ve been paying attention to what foods my body responds to in both positive and negative ways. Balance looks like me taking those small actions to make eating for my body easier, which allows me to rest without guilt. Work days are shortened now that I understand it’s never the expectation for me to complete the business mission in one work day. Instead, I paid attention to when my body works best, and I plan my tasks around my natural rhythm. And one of my biggest accomplishments with these new changes is that I finally gave myself the permission to succeed. I have silently suffered from the fear of success because usually that comes with someone in the background waiting for your downfall. If I dream out loud and it works, will they still support me? And I learned some will stop supporting, but more will stay and continue as new support comes in double the size that left. The key to success is defining it for yourself first and showing up in a way that’s authentic to you. These things will make it easy for you to stay consistent, because that’s what builds trust. I’m not talking about gaining others’ trust either, part of regulating your nervous system is regaining your trust again. The goal is to trust yourself enough to receive love from within, no matter what is said outside of you. Only you experience your joy, so we are in full control of creating more joy in our everyday reality, no matter what is going on outside of ourselves. At least, that’s what this pivot is teaching me. xoxo! Thank you for a community of 2k readers! Did you know this publication is a little over a year old, and already we have grown into a community of over 2,000 readers and writers? In this past year, you have been with me while I have documented my journey of finding home. You witnessed me not only settle at home in California, but also within myself. As a gift to you from me, I am emptying the clip this year on all my ideas and allowing my creativity to take the lead again. When I do this, my life has proven to get at least a million times better, and this sad girl could use some better days. With that said, let’s call this the soft launch to an extension of my documentation. Sometimes writing comes from being out in nature, and the beauty of life draws in the inspiration. Those same moments spark deep conversations that I usually have with myself, just me and my audio recorder. For a few months, I’ve been feeling the divine push to share, but I had enough on my plate; however, I fear I may have been holding myself back. So here’s to a new era of Chronicles of Change, the publication that embraces the pivot. I look forward to reintroducing myself again and again. And I hope you embrace your chronicles of change, too! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe [https://jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

a house is not a home.

The hustle of the fast-paced city lights up my home, preventing any darkness from existing, and this is becoming one of my favorite parts of the day. I can see the WeWork building from my home office, and as I take a puff of my blunt, I wonder when will I ever return. A sucker for views, the floor-to-ceiling windows won me over on Broadway; now I’m looking at the Broadway and San Francisco exit from my floor-to-ceiling windows at home. Each day, I step boldly into my role as Brenda the Builder, a name that will be engraved on my tool belt once I’m done curating this dream two-bedroom apartment loft into my forever home. When I say forever home, I am not suggesting that I plan to live in this apartment past the end lease date. However, I manifest this apartment will serve as an opportunity to curate this space into a home. I understand how manifestations work, and your intention must be met with calculated action. Reflecting on this year, every dream became my reality when I set an intention and followed through with the necessary actions: the unknown. Most of us have been conditioned to believe the unknown is scary. However, my experience debunks this myth. I found home in the unknown; home was curated in the discomfort. Just like this dream apartment is being curated into my forever home rooted in the discomfort of suppressing my creative self-expression through my aesthetic. I was inspired to restructure this piece from a post I read [https://open.substack.com/pub/racewoman/p/self-rediscovery?r=31je9k&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web]by Nubia Lateefa [https://substack.com/profile/160705335-nubia-lateefa] about preserving our lineage, specifically speaking to the Black culture. I’ve been led to document my journey home, never connecting that I was recording the most pivotal year of my life. Any memories you may have of yourself or your family members should be recorded. Write down any recollection of a memory associated with you and family members. It could be a physical characteristic, a nickname, a date, a place, or a particular event; no memory is insignificant. On Wednesday, October 23rd, the house I grew up in went up for sale, and I didn’t think I would feel the way I felt. That house never felt like a home, especially after the man my mom loved attempted to murder her. Turning on the street to go up that hill, unable to see ahead, feels like when the path was as bright as fireworks from the emergency response vehicle lights in the crisp chill hours between night and morning. I hated living in that house after, and while there were some moments that I cherish, the time to detach from that house was past due. This house carried the idea that this was a safe nest where I could let my hair down and simply be, but like many unhealthy relationships, it was formed on the concept rather than what it is. The truth is, I never felt safe in that house, and it never felt like home, nowhere or no one felt like home in the way I was longing for home. Friday, October 25th, I was on a work call when I got a Zillow email that my childhood home was pending sale. My mom called me the day prior, but I didn’t answer. She called to let me know she accepted an offer for her house, the asking price at that. Proud and excited, I congratulate her, and she says something that changed everything. She thanked me for setting her free and showing her the true meaning of life. She thanked me for opening her eyes and her mind to a world outside of the one she was conditioned to operate in. She thanked me for being me and choosing her. My mother doesn’t speak this language. Hearing it come from her mouth left me searching for words to say back, and the only ones I could find were you’re welcome and thank you for trusting me. And the roles reversed, now I am showing my mother the way. For many years, I carried a lot of resentment and anger towards my mother because of the expectations I placed on her role in our relationship. Witnessing her be strong in moments she should have been able to break free. Not for Black women in the world we live in; she suppressed it all to raise me. She did it alone, working two jobs my entire life to make sure we were stable with extra to give me the life experiences in high-class spaces, but the poorest in those rooms. As a child, I knew the hustle, fast-paced life was not for me. And I would always be a bystander confused by the nature of the culture. I saw no real logic in the concept; it would never bring me the life I envisioned for myself, the one I am currently living. The mourning doves fly in unity outside the windows, exciting my inner child and my daughter as we pretend the Universe orchestrated a private show just for us at that exact moment, a “you had to be there” moment. I’m reminded of that moment as a seagull flies by, catching my eye as I overlook and observe the fast-paced hustle of the city's daily activities. Looking into the views of the hills brings feelings of peace, calm, safety, and comfort. I am home. I am home within myself. I am home within a space that matches my frequency. I am home in the unknown. I am home when I am rooted in love, peace, calm, safety, and comfort. I am home in spaces that I curate as home. I am home where I thrive. The timeline that I jumped into is the one that brought me back home. A place I have been longing for with only pieces of the map I saved along the way. This home isn’t already built, nor is it move-in ready, this home is curated to my taste, touch, smell, feel, and aesthetic. Every corner in this apartment will be filled with something to symbolize I am home. I’ve never seen my family so happy experiencing their wildest dreams, and that’s all I need to continue waking up to my biggest ones. They each have their own spaces filled with everything they imagined having once we arrived home, where we could finally unpack to settle. And I have a writing space to explore this gift with greater intention. I have thrived in my creativity and productivity since arriving home. My potential and I have made close friends on this new timeline. Home-cooked meals fill these walls with a seasoned aroma and nurture our bodies and soul. Furniture and decorations are hand-selected for the family we are, the journey we’ve embarked on, and the memories we hold on to. While one chapter of our life feels complete, now it feels like this is the preface to a whole new book. I curated this life by manifesting the experiences I envisioned for myself. Monday night in my loft, writing the thoughts that visited while making homemade chicken noodle soup on a gloomy rainy fall day. Then quality time with my wife by painting her nails before movie night in my daughter’s room to enjoy her projector. I envisioned turning an apartment with the perfect views into the home that I would thrive in because I have learned I am a product of my environment. With the way my life has played out this year and leading up to right now, there is no way I would not be more intentional and take bigger calculated risks knowing I am supported. My belief system renewed with this new timeline jump because I can see my dreams, touch them, feel them, and experience them in the tangible form. There are no more bad days when you have a renewed belief system in yourself. And I am grateful that I preserved my story, how else would we believe in magic? xoxo, Jacquie Chronicles of Change is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Some new creative pieces are in the works for all paid subscribers, including a curating behind-the-scenes of my home, new manuscript previews, and monthly virtual group co-work Zoom meetups. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe [https://jacquieverbal.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]