What we see on the outside is but a dream.
Buddhists believe we pass on to the next life as easy as removing our day clothes for the comfort of pajamas. Transition. So what is this exterior we are so attached to? What significance is what we take in with our eyes? What we judge each other with such fervor? What does it matter?
Who are we? What do we know?
My crow friend laughed at me, it’s wise, dark eyes fixed on my gaping mouth, my wild eyes. The letters that “just had to go out on time” almost falling from one hand as the other held the post office box open wide. This beautiful creature stopped me from moving about my afternoon in a daze, like a robot carrying out its mindless mission. Step A to Step B. Repeat.
What am I really doing with my life now that I’ve stepped away from writing and speaking for the typical 9-to-5? My bank account hasn’t made a single complaint about regular deposits now has it? The hands on the clock move faster than ever as I push one meaningless paper after the other into the eternal filing cabinet.
But where is my soul? I feel like someone has turned down the volume on my life, and the mumblings have morphed into flavorless elevator music.
Somehow I’ve stifled my voice to squeeze into a career-friendly skirt and not-to-offend shoe. Every morning I disguise my beloved tattoos, pure expressions of my Being, for people who see me as nothing more significant than monotonous scenery along a dirty urban street. Every sunrise I extinguish my light a little bit more, and for what?
For my children, that’s what.
A friend asked me to build a gender clinic for kids here in my city, and I almost burst into tears in pure desperation. If only…
“I’ll ask the Universe,” I replied, holding back the fury (and embarrassment) that comes along with making friends with your captor. The resignation of guilt that I’ve become so comfortable as I step farther away from what I clearly understand to be my life’s purpose and source of fulfillment. I can’t blame the money, or my children, or the bills.
Gently I move my mind away from blame and toward gratitude… for the crow, for the awareness of what is important, and the ability to harness my voice and shine my light.
Tomorrow is another day.