My life has been extremely interesting these past few weeks. Actually, interesting is about as big an understatement as anyone can get. Jam packed with life changes is more like it. I’m fairly certain I’m supposed to be tired. I’m fairly certain my life is not supposed to make any sense. I’m fairly certain that with all the chaos surrounding me, losing the last of my grandparents last Saturday, training for this marathon, deleting “friends” from this phase of my life cycle, etc. and what have you. I’m drained, energized, fascinated with how crazy life can be and the order that seems to underlie chaos. I think.
I’ve had some wonderful conversations with semi-like minded people in my life. I also have a renewed sense of purpose with regard to my place in society and my family. I think.
A part of me is still mourning my favorite and onliest grandmother’s passing. I’ve been telling myself for the last 5 weeks that death is a part of the cycle of life and I’m much happier that she’s no longer suffering. I think though that I’m relieved a bit that I don’t have to watch her painful withering away anymore. It was so awful to watch my spry, fierce, fabulous grandmother in the state she was in. It was heartbreaking. It still hurts thinking about it.
Instinctively I think I started running 6 weeks ago for vanity reasons. I decided I didn’t want my body to ever turn into a prison for my spirit. Which is exactly what my grandmother endured for 4 weeks. So sad. I told myself I’d rather go out bungee jumping or sky diving or having a heart attack while attempting to finish a 26 mile run for no other reason than because my legs still work and most people look at me like I have 14 heads when I tell them what I’m up to. That’s always fun.
I’ve also discovered that life can be a series of “sighs”. Once you catch your breath, something else happens to take your breath away or make you confused as hell about your purpose on this planet. It’s damn near pointless to ask anybody outside of yourself which direction to take because everybody’s path is different. So, I’ve stopped asking.
The thing is I’ve also finally discovered that no woman (or male person) is an island. A fortress maybe. Island, nope. With that in mind, Amel Larrieux’s song “Weary” has been top of mind lately. It’s about a single woman who has come to terms that she wants her independence and inter-relational-dependence too. I think.
“This woman is growing weary/Of having to be so strong/ Of having to pretend I’m made of stone/So I won’t end up with no broken bones/ I can’t fight every battle alone/I want someone to lift me/Heal my wounds and give me kisses on my head/ Say words that should be said/Fear is not the matter/ I would so much rather open up my heart/And lay down my guard/If I could trust someone/To have my back and never do me wrong/Then I would give my love up/Just like that stop singing this soldier song whomever said love was overrated/must not be getting’ none/\my independent days have had their fun/but when the parties over/and the workin’ day is done/I just want to come home to someone/I want a love to take me/As I am not make me compromise myself Or be like no one else/Fear is not the matter/I would so much rather open up my heart/And just lay down my guard/If I could trust someone/To have my back and never do me wrong/Then I would give my love up/Just like that stop singing this soldier song.” ~Amel Larrieux
I’m just saying. When you break that down into it’s nuts and bolts, the song is not about a fairy tale. It’s about a love partnership. It’s not about a woman having to bow down to the whims of her man for sake of his ego or whatever male people continue to tell themselves about relationships. The song doesn’t tell the story of how to catch a man, keep a man. The song tells the story of a woman who has found herself and would like to enhance her self with the partnership of a MAN. Not a boy in man person’s clothes. A MAN. A Partner. A modern times equal. A fellow human being who just happens to have different and complimentary baby making equipment. Am I making any sense? The gist is, with my grandmother’s passing, I’ve been thinking a lot about living my life to its fullest and being in love is about as life full as one can get. Meanwhile, I can’t make myself settle for a relationship that doesn’t suit me as an equal in a very male person dominated relationship culture. Period. *sigh*
I’m sighing because my grandmother had that for over 50 years with my late grandfather. My own parents have been married for 39 years. It seems to me the problem with marriage today and why I’m don’t buy into it is because folk still focus themselves on the fairy tale wedding and no dice toward the actual people joining together in holy matrimony. We women, while evolving our lives in other areas are still playing “catch a man, keep a man” and clearly, it ain’t working so good in the long run. Meanwhile, Male people keep playing “find a gal, act as stupid and arrogant as possible around a gal because my ego says so”. Anyway.
I look around at my peers who are either married and miserable, divorced and bitter or single and pressed and I wonder where I should fit in. I then become confused because I actually don’t fit anywhere in those 3 categories.
I guess I should want to be married at my age, but quite frankly–just shy of a love hangover type miracle–I can take or leave it. I’d rather buy a house. Forreal. I’m not pressed about finding Mr. Right because, I dunno. Maybe it’s because it requires way too much time that I could be putting toward making my life constantly more fulfilling. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson about that game of “catch a man, keep a man”. Maybe, I’ve discovered that true relationship fulfillment comes from within first. And maybe that’s why Amel Larrieux’s song rings so true in my spirit.
Plus, I’m not bashing, but, there are so many male people in my peer/age/ethnic group who came to be by weird mothers who raised their sons to be their good girlfriends instead of good men who would one day be good husbands and fathers…I can’t. If one more person tells me that I need to “train” a potential male person partner, I think I might throw up.
****SIDE BAR**** Dogs require training. Children require raising. Any man over the age of 25 who requires either one has been led astray and bamboozled by their mother and not raised effectively by their father (or any supposed positive male figures in their immediate circle). And that is NONE of my business.*****
*sigh*
So here we are again. This post is maybe a threshold of all the things swimming around in my head. These things cause my spirit to stir and me to wonder what is to happen next in my life and and relational times.
The good news is that I’ve got the makings of a really good life plan under way. I’m fickle as hell, but as long as I stay kindof focused, I should be okay. The other good news is that I’m at least still singing Amel Larrieux’s song. That means I still have a teensy bit of hope left in my fiery spirit that there is somebody in the universe designed for somebody just like me. I don’t have to play catch a man, keep a man, nor do I have to train and/or raise him because he’ll show up in my life trained, raised, kindof focused, with a solid sense of spirit, who he is in his own skin, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
The super really good news is that with all the chaos and the underlying order that’s going on right now, I’m more blessed than I’ve ever been. The possibilities are more endless than they’ve ever been. I’m closer to buying that house than I’ve ever been. Plus, I have one more angel in the wings to keep me in line. Maybe my grandmother can give a nudge to that divine right male person I’m only sort of waiting on. *sigh*
The moral of this story? Rest in Peace Mom-mom. Also, Thank you for reading this. Peace and abundant blessings. -e-