The Wondered Years

Something happened in me and I stopped writing. I'd jot down a few things here and there, but nothing that was substantial or that I deemed shareable. Shutting down my creative exports can be paralleled to me shutting down how much insight someone gets into my world. So why would I do such a thing? What did I have to hide? Answers to those questions I have not had till recently.

I'm a sensitive kind of guy. My daily intercourse with the internets puts me out there for all to see, so I would wear a hat and sunglasses and felt like that little kid from that movie "Big Daddy" with Adam Sandler. He'd stay quiet until he got his sunglasses on, his invisible sunglasses, which enabled him to talk. I needed sunglasses, it was my safety blanket.

So what's so bad about the sensitive me? The kind and vulnerable me? Nothing. I had to start believing that.

So to answer my own questions, the reason I did such a thing, I was scared. Scared of taking risks that may or may not pan out. Afraid to admit my failures in front of anyone else. I love to fail, it's the best learning lesson you can have so why is it so hard to share it? The lessons learned from a failure are nothing short of a success.

And what did I have to hide? A sensitive, kind and vulnerable person. If I showed that side, people would think I'm a push over, they'd use my vulnerabilities against me and take advantage of my good nature. Regardless of me willing to show these things or not, they still were used against me and taken advantage of. Lesson, be yourself and not what you think people need you to be.

The last time I wrote here was to give thanks. Not in the usual way of giving thanks, but thanks nonetheless. People asked me if the woman I wrote about in that post was my mother. Although my mother did bring me up to mind my P's and Q's and some of my father's worldly charm was handed down to me, that woman was exactly that... that woman.

I've been more than lucky to be in that woman's life many times in this lifetime and her in mine. She's in my life now, deeply. We're older, wiser and at the point in our lives where spending our lives together raising up little afro bearing brown babies is no longer a thought.

Which leads me to share a recurring dream I've had for years:

The sun is shining down on me and this comfortable warmth washes over me. The setting is a beach, not overly populated, with the sun closing it's angle on the horizon and spreading light off of the water. In the near foreground I can see my daughter walking, or should I say, waddling along the beach. Images of the Coppertone ad with the dog pulling on a little girl come flowing through.

My daughter's holding a hand, her mama's hand. For years I've tried to place that hand. Each time I experience the dream I try and make note of some other clue or detail that gives me the identity to the mother of my children. Her lithe wrists, fingers nimble, agile like a concert pianist and holding that child's hand with a direct flow of love. I'm blessed. Two of the most important women in my life just standing in front of me surrounded in love. Cassiopeia.

That woman, is this woman.

She's always been and it's taken me half of my life to recognize this. No other man has ever been given this many opportunities with this woman. And now, my life is beginning to shift. The freedoms of flying by the seat of my pants is losing it's lustre, the exciting and risky seems foolish and silly. I'm not getting old, I'm getting wiser and ready for sharing my life with someone and let them bear witness.

She's been a constant inspiration and writing this on the new moon and setting intentions is just another way she inspires me. Now, all I have to do is lose the shades and the hat, well, maybe not the hat :)