Last night I dreamed that a woman was driving too fast trying to get to her destination. She was young with chestnut brown skin. I never saw her face, I could only sense her aura. It was raining and there was a sharp turn. She drove off of a bridge into a waterfall. I remember sensing that this woman couldn’t swim. But she wasn’t worried about drowning, she was enchanted by how beautiful the waterfall was. I never saw the water below.
~Katandra Jackson Nunnally, CEO at FreedomInk Publishing http://www.freedomink365.com/about_the_publisher
If you’re looking for a ‘How To Guide’, do not read this book. If you’re looking for inspiration & motivation & a bit of tough love, read on! No-one can tell you how to lead. No-one can show you or teach you. The main thing is to decide to lead. There are a few tips, suggestions and pointers tucked into the pages that are invaluable nuggets of information; such as the idea that Leaders are born and that they are naturally charismatic. Which it seems quite the opposite is true. Leaders are made and being a Leader is the thing that lends charisma. This is a great book for anyone wishing to be at the forefront of change. Will you lead?
Katandra Jackson Nunnally, CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, http://www.freedomink365.com/about_the_publisher
A very long time ago, let’s say, 30 years ago, someone who was supposed to protect me, took advantage of his position and power, and instead hurt me. I’ll save that story for another entry, but for now I digress… He hurt me and what didn’t physically kill me, silenced me. But then something seemingly insignificant I’m sure, happened. I was given a diary by the wife of my abuser. At first I was timid about writing. On more than several occasions, I knew that what I’d written had been read by her. My voice grew stronger as I continued to write, and she, continued to read. But never once did she attempt to rescue me. Instead, she was blinded by the hate she indirectly harbored towards me. You see, she loathed the idea that he, my father, had a life before her. A life that included my mother for a brief moment in time. She hated that. She hated her. Therefore she hated me. But by placing that diary in my hands she unknowingly nurtured wings. I entrusted my then best-friend with the secrets of my diary. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t question me. She didn’t ignore my cry for help. She took it upon herself to tell her own father. A very long story short, I was removed from the home. That was almost 30 years ago. I cannot begin to fathom how different my life would be if that damning thing had been allowed to continue to destroy me. All these years later and I still have days when I feel damaged. But it’s nothing in comparison to the damage that could have been had I never picked up a pen. I’ve been writing ever since and it continues to save me!
*This one is for Natasha. Thank you.
~Katandra Jackson Nunnally
Prelude. Pre. Before. An introduction of sorts. Pain. Usually a tangible, physical thing. Some sort of discomfort. So imagine the prelude to pain. It’s a knowing, a premonition, an understanding, an anticipation of the real thing. The waiting although not excruciating, is in a sense, a brand of pain in its own right. I dunno the percentage of folks born with flat feet, but I do know the pain we share all too well. That unbearable pain. My mother tried to save me, bless her soul! But did I listen? No. I spent most of my childhood sans shoes. Imagine it… Flat, bare feet. 30 some odd years later, I’m paying for it via bouts of sporadic, spontaneous, unpredictable spells of pain. The failed arch attempts to repair itself and when it does, bring in the tears. Which brings me to my current situation. The prelude to pain. I’ve been feeling that dull throb at the backs of my calves all day. It’s not true pain but I know that sometime in the middle of the night, the real thing will snatch me from slumber and the prelude to pain will have passed.
The first book I purchased was a fifty cent book from Goodwill. The cover was torn and tattered and the pages were yellowing. I was 15. Those secondhand books became my habit and reading was my favorite hobby. I could be in Manassas Georgia, population 100 on a good day, and literally be anywhere in the world. Imagine my delight the first time I stepped inside of a bookstore. An entire store, dedicated to nothing but books! And I was hooked. Two of my favorite books from way back when, Tiger Eyes (Judy Blume) & Roll Of Thunder, Hear My Cry.
CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, Katandra Jackson Nunnally, http://www.freedomink365.com/about_the_publisher