Be then as Children before God:

 

     Is it too much to ask for inspiration again? To consider a recalibration after so many failed attempts? Is it possible to lean this life, against the fence, and simply walk away? To put down my cynicism? To walk back the jaded shades of me that have clouded every color in my soul? 

     Is it possible to leave behind the rotting things that permeate my exterior? The relationships that bind to my soul by chain and hook, and no way out? 

     I thrived once, on the few who stood against the crowd.  Those who still managed to shatter ceilings and break records, with a vagina between their legs, and a true patriarchial army positioned before them, as if to say...."you stop here!".  I am no feminist...but what I am is a history lover, a realist, an optimist...and no one, can take away the woman's struggle, long before races themselves claimed sole sufferage for their kind.  We stood, for centuries breaking ourselves against the will of religious zealots and men alike.  We took beatings in the name of female submission, and were given over to be raped in arranged marriages by those we trusted the most- our families. 

     Engrained and imprinted in our psyche- millennia of generational abuses and mistrust.  

It is no wonder, family is still often seen for the enemy it has made of itself. And could I even blame myself, for the inability to trust them, even if I wanted to? For in this life, they have given me every reason NOT to.  

     Perhaps this is why I cry....when I remember the women I looked up to over my life, and the barriers they broke down, amidst struggles we'd only caught wind of.  Women who still made music, women who still made art, women who gave comedy a franchise in female expression.  

     Frida Kahlo, Lauryn Hill, Lucille Ball. Naomi Wolf. Kayleigh McEnany. Erykah Badu. Billie Holiday.  Jeanette Rankin. Susan B. Anthony. Harriet Tubman. Nellie Bly. Elizabeth Blackwell.  All these women...affected modern history, and modern life, in ways that opened up avenue's for the freedom's we have today.  Many men, along the way, supported our campaigns and contributed; yet without these women, our own belief in ourselves to break such glass ceilings, may have seemed all the more unfathomable.  

     So many more women, remain lost to history we are too busy to explore.  So many others curated their way, as first, trickling creeks through stone.  Women across cultures and worlds.  Women who stood in the face of death, to stand up for their own freedom, or for the rest.  It is their stories, that still bring tears to the eyes of this 41 year old little girl.  I will forever be in awe, of what they had managed to accomplish against all odds- often off of sure audacity and will alone.  

     These women remind me...that I am still young. That there is still time- to reframe, to recalibrate, to shift the tone in my own life.  

     I have throughout the most of my time here, been suffered by betrayals and abuses meant to shatter any soul.  By the time I was 41 years old, I found myself jaded to my core- all faith, all hope snuffed out to degrees I had always gambled against.  Yet still, here I cry, a weeping child, witnessing in them, their own greatness- these icons that raised me to believe better.  To strive more. To endure and keep going against all odds.  

     I do not pretend that I will produce anything great in this life.  I may die poor and homeless.  My writing may be lost to history as so many voices, artists, and women before me.  I may never put out another album or song.  I may never do much in history's eyes....but the one thing I CAN do....is try.  The one thing I can do, is refuse to let my light fully die.  I can strive.  I can place myself before my piano keys again.  I can pray.  I can seek yet, in meditation what has always been so hard for me to find.  I can clean. I can organize my life. I can throw myself into being a good mom- no promises...but I can try.  

     I am almost 5 months pregnant now.  This will be my first child, and I am praying, and I mean praying, our baby will be a healthy one.  You never really know what you are up against when becoming a first time mother.  I am scared.  I have so much doubt in myself and so much fear over giving birth, and in a hospital setting.  I have no clue, in the most gargantuan way possible, what I am doing.  All I can do...is try to prepare.  

     In order then, to be the best mother, I find myself understanding, I have to heal my pain and my anger.  I have to rediscover the things that make me smile.  I need to dance again.  I need to sing.  I need to make way for joys and nature.  I need to relax and soften. I need to take all things, less seriously.  And this brings me back to that: inspiration.  

     I do not need to compare myself to the women who have made history.  I merely need to carve a way for myself, the they did.  What has often seemed impossible may not be so.  For me...the impossibility was often "getting through another day".  The impossibility was safety. The impossibility was motherhood. Yet....here I am.  Doing the thing.  No houses have collapsed.  Detriments have been well endured. But I am here, doing it.  

     We have more strength than often we imagine or give credit for.  We have an imagination and faith and hope, that refuses to go out, even when we suffocate it's oxygen.  I see now...perhaps none of this was the end, though it had often felt like it, when my previous lives and choices had come crashing down in front of me.  I....like every other woman, daughter, and mother- I would find a way to keep going....and to keep going with God in hand.  Without inspiration, God can not penetrate the part of us, our heart, that needs buoying.  God can not reach us, because we have locked the lightness of spirit out.  

     So I am trying. Day...by day...I take a couple more steps.  I make a little more progress. I allow, a little more light into my home.  Day, by day, I expand the belief in myself that all things are made possible through Our God; and that I can be recovered from the Hell I have returned from.  It is a process. It is lofty. Yet I have no choice. For to live without the light....is no life at all.  I have dedicated myself almost blindly, to God, believing healing was possible because I needed it to be.  This is where I will remain, because the alternative just jaded every color and every hope; every inspiration I had left in me.  I have to believe, there is light left where I am going. I have to know, a way will be made.  I have to be willing, to meet God half way.  So here...I will try.  That is my current commitment to each day. I have to try. I HAVE, to forge a way.  And so will I do, with God in hand. And God in Heart.  Chasing the easiness of a smile. Laughter. Silliness. And Joy. Seeking within, to become yet again, a child in spirit. A child at heart. To discover again, ease, play, and imagination.  Then perhaps, shall we recover, together.