No. 46 | Release your fear-emissions

It was late Saturday night this past weekend. Exhausted and worried, I climbed into a minivan rideshare. My plan was to rest during the 30-minute ride back to Harlem. As we drove through Elmhurst, though, heading toward the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, I realized Ramadan had just ended. At 2AM, the streets were alive with people eating, laughing, and celebrating Eid.

As I settled into the car, the familiar recitation of the Islamic call to prayer filled the space. The driver turned to me and asked, “Does this voice bother you?” I replied, “No, not at all,” noting his use of “voice” for something that, to him, was undoubtedly more. The call to prayer can be mesmerizing, hypnotic even, and deeply stirring, depending on the reciter. I recognized it as the beginning of Eid and shifted in my seat, trying to relax. My mind, however, wandered to a version I preferred, one sent to me years ago by my brother—the recitation by Saud Shureim.

I recalled a time in New Orleans, in a small apartment, playing the call to prayer early one morning, around 5 a.m. or 6 a.m. Suddenly, I heard a loud whisper: “What is that? What is that?” The call to prayer can resonate deeply. It focuses me, reminds me of the Almadies neighborhood in Senegal, and of the village of Kaolack, also in Senegal.

But I think I ultimately turn to the Islamic call to prayer when I’m tapping into a meditative space, seeking divine guidance. For me, the call to prayer helps me articulate my plea to the One Most High: to lessen my fear, to provide grounding, to soothe my heart.

As I drifted off, we passed a restaurant called Dera. I wondered if the food was any good. The next day, on my way back to Harlem, I saw it again, packed with people celebrating.

I’ve been back and forth to Elmhurst, where John took a bad fall from his scooter this weekend. He hit a pothole and fractured two bones. The injury is what I believe is called a tibial plateau fracture. He is the epitome of vulnerable strength, of understanding and acceptance. 

Amidst the buzz of the ER, we found time to read from The Creative Self: Beyond Individualism by Mari Ruti and Gail Newman. The text enlivens me. It encourages me to reflect on how I might slow down, detach from distractions, and reconnect to a less acquisitive mindset—one that isn’t constantly chasing (or purchasing) the next thing. The authors discuss how we're often driven by the pressure to constantly improve ourselves, as if we are only here on earth to yield continuous economic gain or value.

I’ve been wondering lately: What aspects of my life are impacting me—and the art of my life? I notice most clearly how my phone has become an additional appendage, one I can’t shake off as I would like—or would I really like to? In a message I shared a few weeks ago, I sought to take time to clear my mind, clear my plate, and better understand my next steps. But truthfully, it has been quite hard to quiet the mind, to empty it.

I think the meditation practice where you engage in complete silence for days at a time, which I believe is called Vipassana, would be especially supportive right now—but also especially difficult. How much can I actually shift the way I think, the way I learn, in a world that asks us to keep moving faster?

I think of a day in dance class, also within a hospital—Harlem Hospital. I was in one of the beginner groups, Group C or B, and we were supposed to be watching the advanced dance groups practice a set of moves. We were in the auditorium on the second floor of Harlem Hospital, where most of our classes took place. I had somehow decided to read instead. I decided that was what I truly wanted and needed to do. I remember looking up at some point and seeing the founder of the dance school, Ms. Brooks, looking at me as I read a young adult novel. Likely triumphant in her knowing why I wasn’t getting the moves right.

It comes to mind today as I reassess my journey because I must acknowledge and notice where my heart’s winds are blowing. I must remember not to deny the direction of these winds. At ten, I wasn’t truly focused on dance class—I wanted instead the comfort of a good story.

Stories of our own wrap around us and can teach us if we choose to listen to the urges of our primal selves. What calls your heart—and when? What direction are you facing? Might you need to turn around? Is the truth of who you are behind you, underneath, overhead, within?

The streets of Elmhurst at 2:00 a.m. pulsed with Eid celebrations. I felt distant, yet buoyed by their joy. In the rideshare, my thoughts were far from the festive breaking of the fast. Instead, I sat with a distinct feeling of loss—temporary, and centered on John’s discomfort. I sat with my trust in his full recovery, but also with tears, in this moment of pain. May our fears be lessened.

Release Your Fear Emissions - blend

• Lavender and Chamomile are both excellent for calming and reducing anxiety.
  

• Bergamot can uplift the mood mood and balance emotions, counteracting stress or fear.
  

• Frankincense is a grounding oil and supports the creation of peace, helping you feel more centered during fearful moments.
  
  

Essential Oil Blend:

• 5 drops Lavender
  

• 3 drops Bergamot
  

• 2 drops Frankincense
  

• 2 drops Chamomile
  
  

Materials:

• Diffuser (or a small bowl for direct inhalation)
  

• Carrier oil (if applying to the skin, like jojoba or coconut oil)
  
  

Instructions:

1. Diffuser Method:
   

   • Add the above essential oils to your diffuser with the recommended amount of water.
     

   • Turn it on, and allow the aroma to fill the room while you sit back and relax.
     

2. Topical (Skin based) Method:
   

   • Mix the essential oils to create the blend
     

   • Add to a carrier oil in a 1:4 ratio (that is, 1 tablespoon of carrier oil for every 3-4 drops of the essential oil blend).
     

   • Apply to pulse points, such as wrists, temples, and the back of your neck
     

3. Inhalation Method:
   

   • Add a few drops of the essential oil blend to a cotton ball or handkerchief.
     

   • Hold it near your nose and take slow, deep breaths. Focus on your breathing as you inhale the scents.
     

4. Bath Method:
   

   • For extra relaxation, add 5-10 drops of the essential oil blend to a warm bath or foot soak (mix with a tablespoon of carrier oil to help disperse the oils in water).
     

   • Soak and breathe deeply. Enjoy.
     

Tagged under: Eid, Self-Reflection, Vulnerability, Spirituality, Healing, Lavender, Chamomile, Frankincense, Bergamot

About Nzingha: Born at home to midwife Mama Nonkululeko Tyehemba, and caught by midwife Mama Nakawe Cuebas, Nzingha Nomsa Taiwo Tyehemba grew up on 130th Street and Saint Nick in Harlem, NY.  She is a poet, healing artist, and operations professional with experiences spanning Western Massachusetts, Senegal, Ghana, New Orleans, and Cuba. She holds a Bachelor's in Black Studies from Amherst College and a Master's in Adolescent Special Education from CUNY-Hunter College. In 2020, Nzingha led production and translation of A Fearless Spring, a twenty-eight-part poem which exists now in Spanish, Kreyol, Wolof, Asante-Twi, Amharic, French, and GriotLite ( a combination of African American Vernacular English and visual cues rendered by the poet Gia Anansi-Shakur). A kidney transplant survivor and facilitator of healing circles, Nzingha is committed to holistic health, wellness, and collective fellowship. Her publications and productions include: The Feminist Wire, Collective Fallout, and Def Dance Jam Workshop – PONO Movement Performance. Nzingha has received fellowships, grants, and awards from the Laundromat Project and Dance / NYC as well as recognitions from the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Foundation, Citizens Committee of New York City, and Northfield Mount Hermon’s Vivian Dandridge White Prize.  She lives and makes life with her husband, John "Of All Trades" Hazelton, and multiple frond; including a six foot tall bird of paradise, two money trees, two fiddle leaf figs, a ZZ plant...and well, this list could go on.