I wake up in the morning and it takes me awhile to recover my identity and everything else that gives this all thing a meaning. I sit there and wonder if it will be a lovely day. I stand in the doubt’s shoes and try to catch confidence flying about. It’s easier for me to fall back asleep and give myself a dream where I rule the world and everything follows my command. But neighbors, these strange community members with whom I share space, have been going up and down, living their lives and disrupting my sleep.
Time has to come to write and my thoughts and the words are floating around, refusing to gather themselves in a logical order and put coherence into my life. I have to stop with this navel gazing and reach to the other. Escape self and meet the Other. Even if it means leaving a Happy Bday on facebook, getting into a discussion on twitter, or just stand on the porch and wave at the neighbor who always seem surprised to see me. Yes, it could because he hasn’t understood the light within my brown self, but hey I have sometimes the same reaction when I look in the mirror in the morning.
As the day goes by, I find something to hang on to. Something that makes my space on Earth significant. It could be the driver who let me pass by. It could be the single by headstrung that I have on replay. Listening to its kick and drum speak for me in more assertive ways than I can allow myself to speak. All I have to do is to have awareness of the arms I move, of the legs I throw to advance; of the brain that records and analyzes the images I feed it, of what I put in my mouth and what comes out of it. All I have to do is to be where I am. Doing what I am doing. Living the life I am living. And just maybe, just maybe, all this will start making sense.