"I need to be able to love the worst parts of you. One day, I am going to meet that person and if I am really going to love, I have to love a whole person, not just the parts I like." I listened to my big brother. Really listened. He gave me a big backdrop for which to stand in front of. I told him I had succumbed to becoming a woman. Told him how I had to humble to the man whose energy felt right to me and could no longer maintain my disaffected stance. He smiled and said, "What is the problem, Beautiful?" I hesitated. I am the mother of a 19 year old. Should I really tell him what the problem is? Well, if I was going to receive the counsel I needed, I had to come clean. I paused a bit longer then said, "Mommy doesn't like him, at all." I waited.
"What happened?" I gave him a brief history. He said, "Well, Mom doesn't like him as a choice because she understands you have options and doesn't want you to make a decision based on energy and emotion. She is right to pull your coat." We talked a bit more and when he realized I was making this decision from a rational place, not one of fear, whimsy or desperation he smiled, then took me for doughnuts. I love my brother.
My life has always worked that way. It is moreso now because I am developing the ability to be firm and to disregard what other people say, and even more than that, I am less concerned with what they think. I have come to the place where I accept myself and in accepting myself, I accept what i like and what matters to me. This, I feel is a testament to true strength. After being doughnut filled and brother love sated, I went home. I spoke to my mom. She, in her usual way said, "What have you been doing that you've got no business?" I laughed and ran down what I had been up to. I mentioned my Beloved. She fell silent then said, "Why him? I really hope you are not making a decision out of desperation and loneliness." I told her what part of the agreement was. She did not yield. "I don't understand. What do you like about him?" We spoke a bit more and finally, finally she said, "Alright." I inwardly smiled. She was the person whose opinion mattered to me more than any other Goddess I served. My constant support, my confidant, my Creator, my friend. I gave thanks that I followed the prompts of my spirit and spoke with my big brother first. The clarity he helped me find inside of myself allowed me to speak with Mommy truthfully, clearly, sincerely and unafraid. That was the blessing I sought more than any other, The Blessing of my Own Head. I had it.
Being raised by strong women can be challenging. Women who morph into Gods before your very eyes as a child send very strong messages regarding who you are supposed to become and how you are supposed to behave. One of the messages I always received was, "You don't let a man run you, and you certainly don't let him run you into the ground." This advice is sound. The qualifiers and how they are interpreted are what present the problems. To a little girl this looked to me like a bunch of women who treated men really mean. I always thought, "I guess he doesn't want to be home. Listen to how mean she is." I didn't know that there were more than many reasons for the meanness I was able to readily identify. A teenage girl interpreted this as bitter grown women who had let their hearts harden. The young woman decided to be ultra compliant in order to be worthy of loyalty, never requiring much else but presence. Service became the hallmark and objective of the established Lady who understood her beauty, brilliance and uniqueness. The True and Living Goddess however, realized that Worship, Offerings, Grace and Providence were the variables that could be placed in a variety of formulae (tee hee) that would equal X, Y or Z. While I was very clear about personal power and how to use it, I was still unclear about how to proceed in the face of challenge and disagreement.
The love I share with my mother requires that our thread be able to stretch but never break. The love I share with my man requires the same. Even though the loves are very different in their expression, they emanate from the same void space that yearns to be stirred to life. I had always felt that I was being disloyal to my mother if I found a man who was a man. This was probably why I most often chose to love men who could never equal the view I had of my mother and therefore never had any significant influence over me. In small ways I gave myself to them always keeping in mind the tendency of men not to...(fill in the blank). In this way I was able to excuse myself the responsibility of being vulnerable and of being submissive. I realize what grown ups and elders who witnessed Lasting Black Love know, it is a softening of the heart AND a strengthening of resolve that allows us to choose a person each day in spite of and in addition to whatever that day brings. I am thankful. I love my Brother- a man, I love my Man, and I love my Mother. Blessings.
No comments:
Post a Comment