What is your ball? Inspired by Misha Horsey

We attended a conference in Philadelphia, PA in which PCRadio Live was honoring several people for their work in the community. During this event, I had the great pleasure of meeting a young lady by the name of Misha Horsey.

Misha Horsey is the co-founder of Pro Bound Training that teaches young female athletes from the age of 8-16 basketball skills such as ball handling and perimeter play. Their objective is to instruct their athletes in the techniques of ball handling as well as the fundamentals of an all-around game for aspiring female basketball athletes in efforts to compete at the next level. Pro Bound is committed to the development of their athletes, so every session is intense and treated as if it were an actual game. Every drill simulates in-game situation.

As I am learning about Pro Bound, I am thinking they are teaching something much greater than basketball skills. They are instilling discipline & structure. They are teaching these young ladies to challenge themselves in intense situations. Take what they have learned and move to the next level. They are equipping them with life skills.

Misha stated, “I knew when I had that ball in my hand it was my way out.” And immediately I knew I had to ask that question. What is your ball? What is that one thing in your life that will take you to the next level? Get you out of poverty? Get you out of a mundane stressful life? Get you out of mediocracy? Get you out of your shell? Take you to a position of giving back to others? It may or may not be a basketball, football, golf ball or any other type of sports tool, but you have a ball. We all have a ball, and that ball is what we find joy in doing. It is that thing that has a special place in our heart. That ball may not be easy to carry. It may not be easy to obtain. It may be hard to control. It may not be easy to explain to someone else. It may lead to some long and tiresome days. I also know this is not as easy as it sounds.

But after you identify your ball, pick it up, and every time you put your hand on that ball act on it with intensity and treat it as you are in a real life situation and make it simulate life as you have dreamed it. Do as Misha at Pro Bound Training is doing and stay on top of your game.

Visit Misha Horsey at http://www.proboundtraining.com.

 

© 2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

 

 

 

What is Freedom? (The Move part 6)…2 min. read

Early morning walks at the Historical Martin Luther King Center is an experience that most do not have the privilege.  This day is cool, slightly breezy with an overcast. It’s beautiful out here. I can feel the cool air caressing my skin making me feel alive. I am taking deep breaths, clearing my mind, and rejuvenating my body. I can feel my body increasing with life and energy. My mind is thinking of new opportunities. 

However, as I continued to walk and look at the different plaques that spelled out famous quotes and historical information about Dr. King, I began to think “What is freedom?”.  I thought about some of the many definitions of freedom from the past and the present. But I could not kick the thought of what freedom meant to me at this period of my life.

Transparency is something that I have had and still continue to struggle with in my life. Never really felt anyone could fix any part of my life other than myself. I even went through a period in my life when I questioned if God really cared enough to guide me through. So I often ask myself is “freedom” when you have gotten everything right? Is “freedom” when all the mixed up missing pieces have fallen in place? Is “freedom” when all your love ones have finally gotten it right and you do not have to worry and cry as much? None of these could possibly be the answer because if it was…we would all be in bondage.

This move has allowed me the opportunity to experience history every day. Not just the history of the past but the opportunity to make history in the present. A history that no matter my current situations I will make a difference in someone’s life even if it is not the ones I thought I would make the biggest impact on. So often we feel the greatest impact should be on those that we are closest to. Those that we have given the most attention and support to. But I am learning that “freedom” means more than any of the things I mentioned. I will not attempt to define freedom for anyone but I do know that I must stand for something in this life and each day that I am working toward that goal “freedom” is what I have. 

I leave you with this quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. 

No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d died for.              -Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

So if I die tomorrow I will know that I lived to make a positive impact on those around me regardless of their responses, achievements, or failures.

~TanyaG

Living Your Life Out Loud (The Move part 5)

Crossing the Bridge Into a New Year (The Move part 4)

The Move (Blog – Part 3)

© 2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

LOST

My heart racing

Thumping

Vibrating my eardrum

Will I make it through? 

Sweating 

Remembering 

Why?

What happened?

What caused it?

Should I inhale? Leave?!

Deep breathes

Calming thoughts

Outweighed

Breathing slows 

Thoughts increase

Fight, fight, fight

Fight thoughts. Fight him. Fight it. 

Lying down but body still erect

Emotions skip

To another body until it’s over 

-TanyaG

© 2016 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 4)…2 min. read

Just as I was about to settle into my new freedom another thorn stabbed me deeply. I awoke abruptly from my spell.

His actions affected me with the piercing pain of thorns from a “rose” bush. However, I did not see a beautiful rose flower in my presence. My mind drifted into hollowness. I began to hallucinate of beautiful roses that symbolized beauty and love. My nostrils inhaled pleasant scents that made me feel at peace. A spectrum of glowing colors burst in my optical senses. I was overwhelmed with such ecstasy and serenity. I took a deep breath.  I was feeling overjoyed that I was finally in my purpose. I could feel my body becoming lighter. My muscles relaxing. There was a crispness and clarity to my thinking.  God, I haven’t felt this feeling in a long time. If I had ever felt it at all.

Just as I was about to settle into my new freedom another thorn stabbed me deeply.

I awoke abruptly from my spell.

The room was filled with people. I had forgotten where I was. The thorns of lust were jabbing deep. Their eyes and body movements showed their attraction to each other. Her desire to be the attention of the false illusions that were inhabiting this space revealed itself each time she tried to look through me to him. She stood with a sensualness that I did not have the confidence to hold. She giggled like a mindless child playing with her favorite cousin at a sleepover. The smell of roses that occupied my nostrils during my hallucination was actually instigating from this girl that now challenged the entire room. Challenged the relationship that I ignorantly misunderstood was more important than my own sanity.

But I discerned my place in this space. I never was supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be in his company. I wasn’t supposed to be in such a challenge because it was not part of my purpose. I wasn’t supposed to be holding this drink. Or in this room where these thorns of disrespect, disregard, and dishonesty were making me bleed from my soul.

I was disheartened. My plan, not my purpose had me bleeding. With each drop of blood, I felt myself losing control and my mind drifting back to that hollowness but this time my nostrils smelled the aroma of a stench. The disgusting odor of dreams dying because none of us would admit the plan that we wrote for ourselves was unbecoming of our purpose. The weeds disguising themselves as beautiful roses were suffocating me.

My plan, not my purpose was leading me to nowhere.

To be continued…

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 3)

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 2)

My Plan Not My Purpose

©2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 3)…2 min. read

As I walked each day to clear my head and shed the tears of regret, I begin to devise a way to say “I messed up. I am sorry. I am lost to my next step.”

Part 3

The streets are lit, busy and filled with litter. Not just the litter of empty bottles of Cisco, Alizé, MD 20/20, Malibu, Jack Daniels, Thunderbird, Colt 45, Old English, old cigarette butts, and fast food boxes from all the restaurants the lined the streets of this impoverished neighborhood… but deeply littered with lost souls with no direction. Souls like mine that were embarrassed and angry that their plan, not their purpose was taken them to nowhere. But unlike me, most did not know the difference between their plan and their purpose. They did not know the magnitude of their misdirection. 

Their days filled with drugs and alcohol showed on the young women with vanishing clothing, loose talk, and behaviors that mimicked the overgrown and wildly growing weeds that lined the streets. Pretending they did not need or want a man with purpose, drive, and ambition.

The boys trying to portray themselves as men but only successful at passing themselves a blunt. A blunt of idiocy that gave them a false illusion of control, dominance, power, confidence, achievement and success. Only to sit the next day in front of the little television that sits propped on the chair serving as entertainment that in a short period of time proved to be their distraction out of poverty.

Sadly, I knew it all to be a lie. And it haunted me with each waking day, with each step in the wrong direction, with each tear I shed. Each time I compromised my purpose to pretend that my plan was working just as I had planned in my undeveloped mind with lack of experience. How do I escape the position I placed myself? How do I say “My plan was full of childish decisions of false illusions of grandeur” that was supposed to be better than the couple of years of education I had completed at one of the best colleges in Georgia?

As I walked each day to clear my head and shed the tears of regret, I begin to devise a way to say “I messed up. I am sorry. I am lost to my next step” because my next step could lead me into drug addiction, prostitution, or even death. But this too proved to be as hard as the souls that walked with me. As hard as the souls that littered the streets of this impoverished neighborhood that was lined with empty bottles of false illusions and overgrown weeds disguising themselves as people.

My plan.

Not my purpose.

Was still taken me to nowhere. To be continued.

©2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

 

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 2)

My Plan Not My Purpose

 

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 2)…2 min. read

My plan, not my purpose had me embarrassed and angry at the position I had placed myself in.

Part 2

One chair sits across an empty room on a plain discolored wall next to the door. A little television sits propped on the chair serving as entertainment that in a short period of time proved to be a distraction out of poverty. For the next four hours, cartoons would be the choice of education for these men. Men that had single mothers, children and “baby mommas” that awaited the attention of a man with purpose, drive and ambition that was so needed to destroy the generational curses of sin and poverty that was exposed every time I stepped onto the pavement of the apartments that were gravely positioned down a stretch of road littered with trash on both sides.

My plan, not my purpose had me embarrassed and angry at the position I had placed myself in.

The smell of crack cocaine came in between the stints of empty Vodka bottles littered about me. As we sat on the crumbling brick wall that lined itself along one of the apartment buildings, I listened to the meaningless and uninformed conversation of the men and women who determined success by the amount of money spent partying over the weekend. As the liquor continued to flow, a deep-seated sadness began to fill me. The only way to survive was to partake of the spirits.

But I sat quietly with a slight buzz from the Vodka because I am considering that I am out of my purpose, and anger is rising because my plan, not my purpose put me in a poverty ridden apartment overgrown with weeds that disguised themselves as people.

My plan.

Not my purpose.

Was taken me to nowhere.

To be continued…

© 2016 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

My Plan Not My Purpose