It feels good to be back! Thank you to Denene at MyBrownBaby for her brilliant new monthly Beautiful Mind Writing Contest which finally inspired me to come back "home". Check MyBrownBaby on Tuesday, November 24th to see the entire list of entries. So, here's my variation on this month's theme...Peace.
My name means seeker of truth. All my life, I have been seeking, constantly in search of everything: my soulmate, a deeper connection with spirit, my purpose…that “it” that would have me finally certain about something, would end the search. My journey has carried me through all types of adventures, beliefs, careers, concepts and relationships. And, every time, along every single journey, I do reach a point at which I am almost certain that I have reached “it”. But inevitably some clue emerges that this isn’t quite “it”, and my search continues.
There have been loves, otherworldly loves, that seemed without question to fill that space that sometimes tricks me into believing that I am not already complete. The kind of love that seems like it has always existed and reassures you that if for no other reason, you are here to be loved by this man. Those kind of loves; pregnant with excruciating passion in the beginning filling me with the confidence to meet destiny head on, because in that space, there is nothing but love and possibility. But like many of the partners I chose, I would find myself unable to stay for long, unwilling to be completely certain. So, we move on.
I have had political convictions that have driven me to organize, fight, and even to jail. The world has always been mine to save; but if I couldn’t save it all, surely I could save Black people. And, so, almost positive that I could stay on the course of “Hell no! We won’t go!” I jumped in fiery and red and hard as hell, willing to do anything for the struggle; willing to restrict myself to only Black-owned restaurants; willing to skip final exams for protests; willing to fight cops, enter prisons, willing to die…until I started business school.
And, then, there was the moment I held my baby against my chest for the first time. There was no other purpose then. My every thought, action and body part was devoted to keeping him safe, healthy and happy. Motherhood, I knew, could be enough to hold me still, keep me steady, maintain my focus forever. There was nothing I wanted to do, nothing else existed; my child, me and that incredible high I got from nursing. Now, he drinks Silk, and though he is my motiviation, my teacher, the absolute love of my life, the one thing I know with certainty I would die for, even he is not the “it” that keeps me on this quest.
I know this, because it will not allow me to bite my nails while I anxiously remind myself of all the reasons I actually am smart enough to speak to a room full of educated folks about my passion about co-parenting. It would not have me silently questioning my competence as a mother when my child ends up on red light for his behavior at school that day. It would not tell me to offer up all of my shortcomings, albeit wittily, as a way to manage expectations and mitigate the risk of having anyone expect me to play as big and as hard as I know I can. That ain’t it.
It is that certain sense of being enough, of being full even when your bed, your pockets and your belly are empty. That willingness to show yourself compassion…and empathy, because, of course you have been there before, so you understand exactly what you must be going through right now. That courage to love yourself exactly as you are, right now, whatever that looks like, feels like and can’t seem to get right. It is the unwavering belief that even though I have been searching continually, uncontrollably, even haphazardly for my entire life to date, that even that is alright. It is the faith that somewhere, even if where is right here, somewhere peace exists and the certainty in knowing that I will find it.
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