Born Again Human
The farther I look back, the more I recognize how innocent we start off as. I remember how the sight of a butterfly became an event to celebrate. When possibility is the highway to the imagination and creativity. When reading a book was the only passport you needed t travel to exotic places.
Music breaking apart all the invisible chains around your heart. Bringing us together in the process. There was no cynicism , no limits. We knew that we were something special and unique even when our environment was toxic and even destructive.
Putting aside any early indoctrination that we may have had, there was a magical connection with our surroundings. We are born within the realm of the infinite. And depending on your experience faith becomes a luxury or a beautiful idea. I knew that the world was bigger than I could imagine, that my experience was not unique but all too common. What I didn't knew was how long was I going to live with pain. Both emotional and physical. And...how much of a blessing that would become.
It's true. there is beauty in suffering. It destroys our previous personas and molds a new version of ourselves. It forces us to re live these death and re birth scenarios in order to expand our consciousness. For those of us with past trauma rooted in childhood, the dynamic of those scenarios serve as catalysts for change and evolution. Sometimes we may devolve into a revolving door of the same experience like with domestic violence and co dependent relationships.
I was hyper aware of how toxic the representations of family and community were presented to me in the guise of loved ones. But it was this longing for protection and acknowledgement that condemned me to a prison that had no windows and no gates. This prison was cold and inhospitable not like a punishment but as the feeling of being dehumanize. That prison became my cauldron to transmute fear into trust. I can honestly say, between being physically hurt and psychologically abused, the lines of what is real and what is not are very thin. The lies we tell ourselves are even more painful than when a stranger tries to con us. Believing that there is no hope for change, we tend to believe the mirage and quit before starting. Who will love and accept me , when those that are bonded to us by blood trow us away. We blame them, we blame ourselves.
The death of expectations
Hope. We confuse it with expectations. We can hope for the best but our expectations about others and external circumstances will break our heart. Hope is to allow, to expect is to dictate others journey to benefit your own. We can exist symbiotically helping each other or as parasites taking away, destroying each other .
We expect our parents to be a certain way, our friends to be the perfect sidekicks. To sympathize and to empathize is realizing the connection to the collective. And how there is no difference between us and them. Its obvious if we want to change the world , we have to change ourselves to make that new world possible.
Breaking the chains and being free
We all have a story. Some more heroic than others,but still life changing. I knew from an early age that my family had a history of violence, neglect and mental illness. Of how something that started generations ago; unleashed a chain reaction that was affecting me.
The prospect of death gives us a hole new perspective. We choose life not the pain. we choose hope not desperation. We create what we speak. And we speak our truth because the chains cant hold an unbounded spirit. We decide to appreciate the beauty of being human. As we genuinely feel blessed of having the opportunity to evolve into a human being. Open to create a new world, and a new relationship with the billions of versions of yourself walking the Earth.
© 2019 Anan Celeste