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What Next? January 13, 2009

Posted by journeywomanchi in Uncategorized.
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Finding voice is difficult but not impossible. Nothing really is.  Even with colonized mind and tongue to match. Even with the corpse of the past tucked neatly in a stash of many forgotten yesterdays.  It is in the present that we discover the future. Lesson learned. The question now is what it’s always been: what next? What great leap must the past-less jump? Five hundred years of oppression has conditioned us well to jump first, ask later. The trick is to admit to remembering nothing.  And those haunting memories that freckle the future, explain them away as blemishes.  Mere figments of pigments that are as senseless as the story behind it (now forgotten).  This is the way of the world gone mad thinking it is sane. Yet, as inane as illogic, it is the status quo. You know and I know that’s how the story has gone…the question remains, is this how and where it will go? Ancestral query begs this question to stop in ponder and move with vigor. There are many things worth forgetting…the most important being our cowardice. Let that be the story of a thrown out yesterday. And in moving future forward, may the next seven generations not retain the taint of the lethargy towards liberation. May they evolve far beyond our memory loss and build on the will to remember and revolve.  May their voice sing unsung verses of life lived with eyes open and vocal pipes of resounding utility. And if this be wishful thinking, let this wish become a recipe for ritual to manifest tomorrow. No pain, no sorrow.

 

And where do I get off thinking like I do? What gives me the guts to ask and then answer? It is the humbling realization that we live on a ball that spins on its own axis and never ponders about its sanity. When I was a child, I used to wonder why those taller never talked about their height…why their own anomaly amused only me. But now 28 revolutions later, I see what they saw: that even though I stand tall, it is no great task because I still can’t touch the sky. And the truth is, I am now less able to touch a cloud than a child looking up wondering what occupied a tall mind. With each inch I grew, I also grew away from my own rhythm. Living life tone deaf makes it hard to hear the inner voice. The good news is that no state is fated doom, rather it is an opportunity to return to innocence…to center.  To be colonized is to be de-programmed from what one knows instinctively. And only instincts know the path to touching the sky. This is where we must now go to find. All previous revelations have been useless prophecies if they did not prescribe this.  No new tribes of tomorrow will prosper on this ball spinning on its own axis if they are not obsessed with finding the path to the sky.

 

But speaking in metaphors can frustrate the addicted left brainers that insist on their limitations being reality.  So for them, let me make this clear. The sky is a lab that produces the healing potion for a today that lives tomorrow. We have lost many yesterdays that will not come back to us on the next revolve. We can never again discover our chi or bronze or a wheel. And like all promiscuous creatures that know too much about its own existence, we can never again feel a first kiss.  And today, I kiss the ball that revolves like that lover I can never have again but have right now…forcing my addiction to the future to be satisfied with the present.       

 

The good news is that although the door of no return is closed, it is not held by walls.  We, the children of Africa, must find the path to indigo sky.  And we don’t need to remember yesterday to fulfill this mission.  The manuscript was tarnished and lost so we can write a new way to the sky. And in doing so, we become worthy of being forgotten as well. For if we do our work correctly, there would still be a ball that spins on its own axis.  There will still be a child that forgot it was once tall and will be tall again.  There will still be a forgetting place and sites that hold its memory.  There will still be a poet that looks for her voice as a metaphor for the sky. And there, will be the path to find. This is why we live. This is what we can never lose and have no need to remember because it’s only for today.  This kills the hunger that aches to know what’s next and rebirths the courage to create the answers.