I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. ~ John Lennon
What is it to be a woman? The soft curve of tender lips pressed to the fragrant cheek of a child; the hard bend of iron will that rises up to defend her in the absence of Father. I cannot change the core of what I am to suit another, though behaviors and perspectives remain open to modification as my capacity for understanding and tolerance of human foibles increases.
I do not possess a mean or harmful intention that lingers beyond an initial distaste for ignorance. Still, I’ve not lived nearly sixty years on this rolling, wild planet to deny what experience has conveyed. I’ve not been cowed and belittled; threatened and dismissed only to seethe and suffer in silence. Like Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid, my voice rises like bubbles percolating to the surface where we all must live our lives. No Ursula has the power to permanently take it from us, though sometimes it seems like it requires everything we’ve got to hold onto it; to birth it into being.
There is so very much to say, share and experience. So many words to arrange, songs to sing when no one else is listening – tunes and lyrics that cycle endlessly through the head, numerous as tiny fish pivoting in unison, forming clouds under the surface of the ocean. It is in these depths that I feel most at home, for I am no surface skimmer. Days of dumbing down to please others are decades behind me, never to return.
I want my experience to mean something to others. I want theirs to be honest and to mean something, in return. I want my beautiful offspring to know a full and rich life, a better future. Perhaps this is what all parents desire, insofar as they recognize the true nature of their intent. My own intentions rise like sap from my roots, from my soul: I want women to discover the quiet power of their gender. I want peace and harmony among men. And most of all, perhaps, I wish for understanding of differences, cultures, perspectives, backgrounds. Diversity lends sparkle to the mundane, although it seems to elicit fear from those who might benefit from it the most.
What would happen if we could break down the walls of fear that separate us?
In Lak’ech: I am another yourself.
Blessings on the day.