Journal Entry, November 22, 2011
Since that bold day of reckoning as a thirteen year old, galumphing up the short stairway onto the bus in silver platform boots, I was declaring that I was not like all the other straight-haired, alabaster-skinned and bell-bottomed pretty girls attending Monmouth regional high school. Though many saw me as a nondescript mixed girl with long curly hair, cafe-au-lait skin and a downward, shy gaze. I possessed a powerful imagination where I often retreated to find shelter from the alienation of being unnoticed. The pretty white girls always were laughing and surrounded by the cool, cute guys. I longed to be like one of them.
And so, I designed trendy, colorful fashions, composed my poetry and daydreamed that one day I’d be surrounded by a bevy of admiring, important VIPs and was sought after for my skills.
My mother’s lady friend bought over a bag of used clothing filled treasures that I claimed as my own, two pairs of size 7 bell-bottoms, stretcher tops and the brand new silver platform boots. I was going to wear them and prove I was brave and unique. My heart beat as the bus stopped for my sister and I and I prayed I wouldn’t trip as I made my way up the stairs to my seat near the front.
I was never the same after that day. All the pretty, long-haired popular girls who sat at the rear of the bus giggled and stared at my feet. Though I was shaking in my boots, I made my point. I was going to be different and never again be ashamed of who I was.
Now the other kids would see that I wasn’t a shy, bi-racial geek. Thus began my life-long struggle to be accepted and cherished
My journey to wholeness took over three decades and opened my heart and mind to the many injustices and inequalities that plagued society, but especially creative and “different” girls and women. I’m still trying to figure out why we women are still not taken as seriously as men, but I do know that I’ve had my share of men who were not enamored by my free-spiriedness and passion to create non-conventional art and music.
Perhaps because of being of mixed ancestry, I loved merging opposing and unique components and this creative tendency brought out some very interesting creations.
I was also famished for any non mainstream knowledge and information to better the world around me and change perceptions of people who generally thought the same way. I kept looking upward, listening to that still, small voice and understanding some very highly advance ways of doing things.
I wanted to gather all things healing empowering and beautiful and force people to taste and see how good they were, but realized that receiving, applying and understanding them was a difficult endeavor. I lived in a fast-paced and materialistic society and people were not excited about waiting for results.
Continuing my quest to understand the societal chaos that has resulted from this micro-wave mentality, I trudge seeking to be emotionally and spiritually transformed in my thinking and perception in the hopes that some I connect with in my travels will listen and heed.
People who march to the beat of a different drum seem to always be greatly misunderstood and maligned. They have to suffer great loneliness and criticism from others who, rather than barnstorm and share ideas, ignore, mock or attack. Some are inwardly jealous to see the freedom and joy of those who aspire to living creative, exceptional and fulfilling lives. Some are fearful that they don’t have the courage to step out in faith and freedom and others are hateful and attack viciously.
I see our materialistic society, addicted to cold technology as fast losing its soul, divine potential and beauty. I belong to a dying breed, but I vow to live a transparent and unfettered life which offers life, healing and inward transformation. My calling has brought me to some unimaginable places of the heart and soul, but often it’s like pushing against a massive boulder. I’ve worn myself out in the process, but this passion to attain the spiritually expansive has led me to venturing to steep cliffs. there, I free-fall into the cavernous expanse of an unfathomable God who has revealed to me hidden treasures of the heart and soul.
That is why I write the songs I write, sing the songs I sing and believe in a God who most do not, (or refuse to) see. It has been a very lonely existence, but that inner voice within me would have it no other way. I must write about suffering and sorrow, loss and hope, dying and being resurrected. I f I have not hope, I have nothing.
My journey encompasses all the groanings and celebrations of one not ashamed to reveal the ugliness and shame of the unredeemed, but also the glories of one willing to submit to the soul surgery by the Creator of the universe. In only this I can relish my existence. It is this hope that I continue to forge forward in transparency as I express the devastation of those caught in bondage and suffering. You will not find your destiny in your Blackberry, I-pod or Facebook games. Modern technology has beguiled you and trapped you in her vise. Can you ever escape? I doubt it, unless you delve into your humanity deeply, daily and seriously. Death is not the ending of physical life, but the squelching constricting of a mind devoid of empathy, natural beauty and hope.
This is a dying world, but there are still some dinosaurs who are still resilient and willing to stand amidst the machine gun fire.
I hope some will listen as I share this precious gift with the few willing to humble themselves of themselves. Truths’ obscure whisper can still be heard despite all the clamor going on. I will continue to write my poems, lyrics and essays in the hopes that darkened, jealous, greedy and bitter minds be illuminated.
Please listen. Truth is calling.