Free to be.

My Love,

Do you know that you are beautiful?
Surely you must.
For from the time you were young
You have been
The object
Of so many men's lust.
Not just because of your physicality
But also because of your personality.
For not only are you "oh so fine,"
But you also exude warm sunshine.

My Love,
Do you know that you are beautiful?
Surely you must.
For from the time you were young
You've been told
That you are
Beautifully
Carefully
Uniquely
Created
From a mold -
Carved out by God-dess above.

My Love,
Please,
Know that you are beautiful.

Because you are.

My Love,
Why must you feel
That this part of who you are
Is so wrong?
Why must you feel
That our God-dess above
Could never possibly
Want to sing along
With your beautiful song?

My Love,
Do you know
That the love
Our God-dess has for you
Is strong?

My Love,
Please,
Know that you are beautiful.

Because you are.

My Love,
You are beautiful.
Incredible.
Wonderful.
I mean,
I think
You
Are
Freakin' amazing!
So why then,
Do you insist on living
Under this weight of
Self-inflicted shame?
Will you live forever
Trying to play this
Impossible game?

Why do you listen to the lies
Spoken so matter-of-factly
By those who are supposedly wise?
Why must you listen to them,
When clearly their only purpose
Is to condemn
Those like you
Who struggle
So hopelessly
To juggle
The parts of yourself
Which such wise guys
Insist
Could never possibly
Coexist?

Which one of these men
Or women
Who are so intent
To condemn -
Which of them
Has been there
In the quiet of the moment
To listen to your heart
As it cries?
Which of them
Has held you
And felt how
With each word of condemnation
A part of you
Slowly dies?
How do they not see
That you -
Every part of you -
Is a part of God-dess's beautiful creation?

I am so mad
That you are made to feel
As if this part of who you are
Is bad.
I am so mad
That they look at you and say
This part of who you are
Is just a fad.
I am so mad
That while you walk around
Eternally sad
And with a part of your heart
Half-dead,
They just sit there:
High
Mighty
And glad.
Who the fuck
Gave them the power
To make you cower?
Who are they to say
That for you
There is another way,
As if you could simply
Take a shower
And become a different person
Tomorrow than you are today?

My Love,
Why
Do you listen
To the lie?
Why?

My Love,
Will you just stop it all for a moment?
Just stop.
Stop thinking.
Stop trying to figure this out.
Stop struggling with your doubt.
Stop praying for change,
As if you are something strange.
Just stop.

And step outside.
You have nothing to hide.
Not from me.
Not from God-dess.
Not from yourself.

And we love you.
We are on your side.
In Heirm -
Every pain,
Every anger,
Every passion,
Every joy -
You can confide.

No matter how hard you've tried
From Heirm
You cannot hide.

You are who you are.
Just as I am who I am.
Between us S-he sees no difference.

Heirs touch
Can bring new life
And new love
To the parts of you
Which have almost died.

So if you seek Heirm out
Your request for love
Will not - cannot - be denied.

My Love,
When will you be on your side?

My Love,
Every part of who you are is beautiful.
I wish you could look in the mirror
And see what I see
When I think of you today:
A young, beautiful woman
Complete and lovely
In every way.

My Love,
You are beautiful.
And so, I pray for your freedom.
But not for freedom from yourself.
Because
I want you to learn
To love yourself -
The way I try to love you -
And the way our God-dess above
Has always
And will always
Love you:
Wholly,
Completely,
Perfectly,

Just as you are.

No, I pray
You will soon find
Freedom -
Freedom from the lies
Told not just by those
Supposedly wise guys who
Intend to be unkind,
But also by those
Good-intentioned people
Who are helplessly blind.

My Love,
Be free.
Open your eyes
And see.
Believe.
Know
How beautiful you are -
Both to Heirm
And
To me.

My Love,
With all my heart
I wish
I could understand
The depths of your struggle
In whole -
Rather than just in part.
But alas,
I cannot.
Yet at least this is a small start.

So my Love,
I want you to know
That here with you - beside you - I stand.
So when you need strength,
When you need courage,
When you need love
- Not just from our God-dess above -
But a tangible, human love -
Please feel free
To take my hand
And help me see
How I can help you
Learn to be
free.

Because you,
My Love,
Have always been
And still are
So beautiful
To me.

Legos: a Chaos of Colors

Dear all~

I'm sorry I've been so silent recently. There are three main reasons for this:

1) I have little free time.
-I'll spare you the details. But basically the combination of work + class + trying to write a thesis in one semester + preparing for post-graduation (I finish December 10th - craziness) + everyday life = very little time left over.

2) I've had a lot on my mind.
-You might think this would help blog writing, but for me, thoughtfulness (meaning "full of thoughts") hinders the writing process greatly. Why? Because every idea in my head wants to express itself at one time. Did you ever play with legos when you were a kid? This is kind of like that. If I have a bucket packed full of legos and I want to build lego buildings of all one color (i.e. a green building here, a yellow house there, etc.), then I will not try to squeeze my hand into the bucket and carefully select each color one at a time. That would take too long and become annoying. Instead, I will turn the bucket upside down, dump them all out at once, and then seperate the colors. But right now - with writing - I can only seem to get as far as dumping the bucket upside down. Due to reason #1, I never find the time to first seperate thoughts into like piles and to then form them into coherent ideas that may possibly be understood by me, let alone by others who exist outside of my head. So everytime I try to write, I only get as far as a chaos of color. And that might be pretty to someone, but to me it does not make sense.

3) I'm an English major.
-This explains why I refuse to reach into the bucket and pull out one lego at a time. I'm stubborn, and I want to write in a certain, coherent way. And usually that certain way requires a lot of time. And usually I don't mind taking a lot of time to write, because I enjoy the process. The process is a form of therapy for me, really. But whether I mind or not is irrelevant when reason #1 exists and rules.

4) Hope is in sight.
-I may attempt a new writing style soon, one that expresses the chaos of colors inside my head and heart. Perhaps this style will express reality more than my usual one. But whether or not I attempt it, December 10th is almost here. So in about a month, you may begin to hear from me regularly once again.

I hope you are well, and whoever you are - if I know you - I probably love and miss you.
Here's a hug: ***HUG*** (hug yourself and pretend it's from me ;-)

Namaste,

~your rafiki