A different terrain

Twas the day of Christmas and all through the house I sit here with my family in Eleuthera Bahamas.  I am feeling very blessed to have my family here sharing this island paradise.  There is no tinsel, tree or a multitude of presents.  There is no brined turkey, stuffing or mashed potatoes.  There are no stockings hung on the mantle.  We are taking a break from tradition. Every year my family has celebrated the traditional Christmas since I was a child.  Sitting together 6 months ago, we decided to make a change.  We love Eleuthera and have had the privilege of visiting every other New years Eve for the past 4 -5 years.  Of course this is change and not all of us are taking to it like ducks to water.  There has been a little discussion about missing the usual fare, the lights or the smell of cedar, but we understand the importance of change and being flexible with tradition as change is the only constant in life.

I watch my father now maneuver from a wheelchair.  Due to a back injury he is now in the chair at least for the next few months.  This was the man who danced around the pool on our last visit here.  This is the man who was a regular in the kitchen as he made his mouth watering rolls.  Now he navigates a different terrain, one of a disabled individual.   I watch my own relationship with tradition as I now navigate a new way of being in a  long term relationship with my mate of over 30 years.  Yes, we understand how uncomfortable change can be.  Many of us dig in our heels and lean into tradition and familiarity  even when it no longer serves us but we can allow change and growth to forge a new path.  Change will happen, whether we want it to or not.

I woke up this morning with freedom on my mind.  As I was lying in my relatively uncomfortable bed, I pondered what it means to be truly free and if any of us truly are.  As Americans, we give a lot of lip service to the notion that we are some of the most free people in the world but yet in some ways we are as restricted as many others.  We just don’t realize it.  We are led to believe  we are free to speak, free to travel or free to be ourselves.  Take a look around.  Can you see how sisters and brethren are being threatened for wanting to love whomever they choose regardless of sex, age, race?  Can you see how those who dare speak against brutality or injustice are black balled and denied opportunity?  There is a price to pay for standing strong and living our truth.

Perhaps our government is more efficient at making us believe the lie that we are free.  Maybe if we close our eyes and think long enough it will be reality.  Governments have a way of making its slaves actually believe they are being cared for.  The slaves are given perks and as long as they feel they are getting a piece of the pie, life is good.   Any self sustaining society knows it has to have a stable working slave force to keep functioning.  Why would it behoove the powers that be to have its citizens refusing to do their duty by producing more tax payers?  The machine needs to be fed.  Who could tolerate adults having freedom by working fewer hours, encouraging learning through travel or being independant or controlled by big brother?  One cannot expect to meet financial goals by taking  time off to schlep the world.

Conformity has become our norm.  Everyone is expected to walk the same trail or else risk the ridicule of the group.  Peer pressure is very real and often times when we stretch our wings looking for our truth, others may not take it too kindly.  There is a price to be paid for true freedom and unfortunately many are not willing to pay the price.

Recently a long time friend started a conversation with me on race.  I have thought long and hard over the years about race and how it has impacted everything around me. As a black woman, I had felt relatively or thought I was relatively immune to the racism impacting so many of my fellow black Americans.  I tried to be a chameleon and actually believed if I walked the walk and talked the talk I would fit in, I  would become one where race would not matter.  I could be “color blind.”  I thought by developing white friends, going to a mostly white university or by even dating and marrying across racial lines, I would remain unscathed.  That day we spoke of race was a day I realized I had failed.

The scene is set and as I close my eyes, I know exactly how it will unfold.  It begins innocently enough with us speaking about the current state of affairs in the world, the past election and where we suppose we are all heading as a country, as a world.  I voice my concerns for myself and others like me who are feeling threatened in a time of racial upheaval.  I speak in a calm tone hoping she is listening and able to express a modicum of understanding.  Instead my words hit upon deaf ears with my friend becoming threatened and questioning why all minorities are blaming whites for the state of the affairs.  She goes on to state her desire to return to a time when race is not such a big issue.  To me that means  a time when blacks are subservient and will not dare bring up such a topic or risk bringing about  their own demise.  Needless to say, I take offense however remaining calm.  Her words quickly turn to tears as she wonders what else white people can do to prove they are  trying to help.  We allow the conversation to transmute itself into something more benign all of the while I can not shake the restless feeling that something is seriously amiss.  I feel a need to scratch deeper but allow time to soothe feathers.   I also feel a need to absorb what has happened and what has been said.  This is my friend of several years.  This is someone who would come to me at a moment’s notice.  This is the one who I share so many intimate details of my life and yet here is a place I cannot reach.  I hear her anguish but at the same time feel my own.  I am angry and feel as if once again someone is asking me to explain and absolve their guilt.  It is in my knowing that I understand the centuries of pain and despair felt by my ancestors and when she tries to compare finding her roots to me finding my own, I am even more angry.   I watch the fury in her eyes and the adamant behavior signaling she feels right and exact.  I realize this is the priviledge she has and she fails to understand how it impacts her and those around her.  She wants me to forget and go thru life pretending as if it does not matter but to me it does.  It matters maybe now more than it ever has.  It matters enough for me to have to pick the scab off of the wound and dig to the deeper part of the infection.  I know I have work to do on myself as well as my relationship to the world and those around me.  I trust it will be difficult and I trust I may lose loved ones along the way.  For me, it is now or never. 

I am sitting in a small bar in Baracoa Cuba as I write this.  Yesterday a friend sent me a text with information from our US president Donald Trump.  Apparently he is warning all Americans to stay away from this island due to the recent problems some diplomats in Havana have been having with hearing loss and other brain maladies apparently from an unknown sonic device of some description.  There has been very little investigation although enough for Trump to give this warning.  His so called concern is said to be for the safety of Americans.  In this mind of mine, it is highly doubtful Cuba is the cause of this problem but with that being said there is a need for some to make the Cubans pay.  Realizing any significant loss of tourism only hurts the Cuban people, the games continue.

Yes, it is important to get to the bottom of what or who is causing the problems as all are concerned for the health and wellbeing of the diplomats.  The safety of the average American in Cuba is appreciated but likely  highly overblown.  As an American in Cuba, I have never felt in harm’s way.  I have walked the streets both morn and night.  I have been met by an occasional beggar but mostly well meaning individuals.  The president’s concern should be reserved for the maladies that are befalling the US.  With crime high and many lacking the basic necessities of life such as health care,  one would think his concern is misplaced.

It saddens me greatly that the citizens are often pawns in these games of politics and are the ones who suffer the most.  The US embargo has been a failure of massive proportions and has not changed anyone’s mind for 50 years.  However, there are some who continue to hold out hope that if the citizens suffer enough, change will come.  The people are resilient and no doubt will continue to survive.  None of us know what change will come or when.  We can only hope it will be for the betterment of Cuba and its people.

I sit here this morning thinking of fate.  My mind has a tendancy to dance and run all over the place and can sometimes take me to places even I cannot comprehend.  2 days ago while crossing an intersection, my life almost ended.  As I crossed the busy street  in my well steeled car, another driver ran a red light heading to the driver side of my vehicle.  As I watched the scene in what seemed to be slow motion, the steering wheel of my car immediately lurched right sending my vehicle into a 90 degree turn.  As I braced myself for impact and eerie sense of calm pervaded my body and I had the feeling of my car floating as it lurched out of the way of the oncoming vehicle.  At that moment, I expected to at least have the front end of my car clipped by the driver.  There was no screeching of tires or any effort on the part of the other driver to stop.  He sped on as I gathered myself and turned my car to head home.  On that day by all things logical in my mind I should have been killed or seriously injured.   As I drove home in a daze I could not help but think about fate and what had saved me.  For many years I have felt the hand of my ancestors from the unseen realm.  My grandmother has long been by my side serving as my guide or guardian angel.   Her presence is often felt as I go busily about my day. She was with me that day.

I thought about how quickly life can be snapped in a matter of seconds and no one leaves until the work is finished. I thought long and hard what it is the spirits are asking of me. What is left here for me to do?  10 years ago I was also spared from a rare life taking cancer.  Spirit had been instrumental in assisting me in locating the tumor and proceeded to once again take the wheel.  I am left with the questions of what and why.  I am also left with the understanding that perhaps it is not yet time for me to know. Maybe in time the answer will be given.  Perhaps it is just another reminder to get out there and enjoy life, to attend to things that need attending, to speak the unspoken and to appreciate being present and alive.  Spirit might have thought I had forgotten.  Rest assured spirit, I will not forget.

Dear brave ones

This is a letter written just for you.  I hope that it helps you to realize that you are not alone in the journey called life.  There are others like you who are choosing to live in their own truth.  They are willing, just like you to risk it all to live a life of passion, love, adventure and to live according to their soul purpose.  Many end friendships, careers, marriages, and leave behind things that no longer are conducive to their growth. Rest assured, it is not easy and along with their bravery comes fear, self doubt and guilt. Many go on to start businesses, or forge a new and different way to live.  They are just like you.  They too sit on the fence wondering if they should leap into the unknown or stay where all is comfortable.  The thing about comfort is that it feels good and known, but can stagnate our growth.  Comfort keeps us mired in our surroundings and circumstances and can make us hesitant to pull our heads from under the covers to peer out.  Yet, for many there is that gnawing and the question “is this all there is.”?  We feel it and we know there is more but what.

The world in which we live has a vested interest in order.  It is expected as members of a society we will pull our share of the load.  We will add to the economy, marry and make more tax paying citizens to keep our world afloat.  We are told or expected to follow in line and expect good from keeping our noses to the grindstone and working hard.  One day after we have worked ourselves to a frazzle, we can retire and that is when we are to expect the “good life.”  Ah then we get to kick back with a glass of lemonade and marvel at our grandchildren who have come to pay their respects.  We are told we are officially old and can now relax.  We are not expected to step off of the road of conformity.  We close our ears to our true voices allowing our individuality to meld into the background of life.  Many refuse to listen as our souls pull and call.  We cease to be our real selves.

I have always loved the children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit.  The story tells of a little stuffed rabbit who sits lonely on a closet shelf.  He meets a skin horse explains to him what it means to become real.  He tells the little rabbit when someone cares and loves you so much  you can become real.   When the little boy loses his favorite toy, the little stuffed rabbit is pulled from the shelf to be loved and cuddled. He is loved and kissed until his fur becomes matted and his nose fades.  The love of the little boy makes the rabbit feel real. As his newness fades others see him as dirty and ugly. One day he is met by 2 real rabbits who taunts him to dance but he is only a toy and cannot.   When the little boy becomes ill, all of the toys are slated to be burned.  As the rabbit sits in the bag with the other toys, a fairy appears to him.  With a wave of her wand, she makes the little rabbit truly real.  As he hops into the thicket he remembers the little boy who gave him the first feeling of being real.  When we become real, we are true to who we really are. Our sagging skin may grow and our hair may cease to be but as the skin horse says to the toy rabbit, when you are real you can never be ugly.

If we are lucky, the day will come when it becomes important to live with authenticity.  It has been said that one of the hardest things we will ever do on this journey is come face to face with ourselves and walk our path with courage.  It requires courage to walk a walk that may look different from others.  It may be a path that requires  a reorganization of all we thought we knew.  It can shake us to our core and tremble our knees.  When we question all that we have always been told it causes us to stop and wonder what other half truths or lies we have taken as our own view.  We may question our sanity and ask why now?  “All was going well until something made me question.” Like putting on our favorite old shoes.  They feel good but can they go to the ball?Will they withstand the test of time?  Our lives may be comfortable but is it only comfort we  seek for the time we have left on the planet?

When we buck the status quo, our friends and loved ones may feel something is amiss. Our friends know us and our change may cause an equilibrium shift.  When we begin to change, things change around us.  Some will not understand and have a vested interest in keeping us in place  and may question our motives or become defensive.  Change is difficult for all concerned.  Often when we begin to question the banality of our existence, it causes others to question theirs as well and for some this can be intimidating.  Often our journey begins when we are jolted deep to our core.  For some it can be a trauma or a diagnosis.  For others the awakening can happen as an aha moment with no traceable precipitating factor. In either case, when it happens, we become the lucky ones because it makes us come to life.  As difficult as it may be we have been tapped to walk the path.  Walk on and know you are being supported.

I will be the first one to admit that change is scary.  In fact, I dislike change.  I can be a creature of habit.  There is a comfort to things we know even when we realize those things need a little shaking.  If we told ourselves the truth, many of us would admit that comfort sometimes brings boredom.  We become use to people and things and tell ourselves “this is how it is as we  fall into a state of  somnambulism.  Some of us question our complacent state and ask “is this all there is?”  We grow restless and realize that maybe one size of life does not fit all. Maybe there are other ways that we are to live.

Society has long played a nasty trick on us by insinuating there is only one way to skin a cat.  We march along like lemmings filling relationships, careers, and lives with expectations of how things are supposed to look according to others.  We come to expect boredom as part of the package.  We tell ourselves that our aches and pains are all a part of getting older and wonder how that 70 year old man on tv continues to run marathons. When we begin to question and come to the realization that we are the ones  in control of our lives, we cause a shift.  We change the waves in the water as we begin to view much  of what we have  been told with a vague suspicion.  Much of what we have always thought now seems unfamiliar.  Our relationships may no longer make sense and may require an upgrade.  We may lose interest in the same job we have had for years and wonder why we stayed so long.  We feel an excitement and yet we are scared.   The territory we are exploring feels foreign and there are times we want the old way back.  As much as our loved ones plead with us to come back to where they knew us best, we realize the old way can never come back because it is us who have changed.  Some may say we are  having a “mid-life” crisis as if what we are feeling is a stage that will go away when we come to our senses.  Ah the mid life crisis, in other words  the call of the soul; the gentle whispering letting us know it is now or never to live to our fullest potential.  Yes we may lose friends and loved ones along the way and we may find ourselves alone but that is a small price to pay for the salvation of our soul.

Live big, live large and leave no stone unturned.