Friday, April 4, 2014

There is no Arizona...

When I lived in Phoenix, Arizona some of my very best pals just happened to be who I consider the world's most gifted poets. We'd attend this amazing open mic called pink slip, I'd play my guitar and my buds would hash out rhymes and emotions I didn't even know anyone could dig down deep enough to find. 
(from left to right: Jason Lalli, Cutie *he was to me anyway haha*, me, and Flipside)
These men were true travelers, people who navigated through words like exploring another planet.

Then afterwards we'd pile into someone's car, head down to an open parking lot, grab some drums and light a fire in a bin, pass around a few brewskis and jam. I'd play my guitar and share my lyrics and these beautiful men would lift me up in amazing ways. Poetry, music, thoughts, was like being in a magical dream where art was the language spoken by everyone and the world somehow knew peace beyond reason. You didn't even have to like the poetry or the music to absolutely love where you were.
And even more surprising was the amount of compassion you found yourself tucked safely in. 

These people started out as strangers just hours ago and now here you were at their mercy, fully trusting, without any real credit to that trust and yet as you walked/drove home that night, knowing you'd forgotten to get everyone's numbers, you would feel the sting kindred to that of losing a family member whom you are certain you may never see again, but yet somehow inside that sting, the experience sirened on, reminding you that this night, this one night, changed everything for you.
It was in Arizona that I became a campaign trail blazer for Ron Paul, one of the most inspiring men I have ever had the privilege to learn from. And it was there in Mesa on that very day that I realized how smart I really am. I found my wisdom.
 It was there I left a real mark on the world...
 It was there I rediscovered my love of history at Montezuma's Castle in the sandstone mountains and there I first began to embrace the fact that I was indeed a bisexual woman...
It was there I leaped just high enough to touch the top of the world itself.
However it was also in Arizona that a deep seated insecurity that I had long left buried down by jokes, extra feats of trying to prove myself, and all the "I'm fines" someone can push into one conversation that I also became haunted by 2 lies that I continued to repeat to myself over and over again for years (just now really starting to overcome it)
These lies were like termites inside of me, eating away all the good things. The passion for politics without corruption, the love of words and song that could change souls, the wisdom of history long passed, and the very top of the world that had been so easy for me to grasp before, suddenly slipped right out of my UGLY, SHITTY, WORTHLESS, NOT GOOD ENOUGH HANDS.
I had help in this disaster, accomplices, some of them I even called "family"...
"How many singers do you actually see that are fat? I mean at least not the popular ones."
"You just need to lose a few pounds and then you will feel great about yourself."
"If you are gay you will go to hell, please tell me you're not really gay?"
"You love the gays more than Christians! God is very angry with you and he needs you to repent."
These words were more than hard to swallow, they were choking me, cutting off the desperately needed air supply I needed...MY OWN SELF LOVE.
Please watch this wonderful spoken word artist named Melissa May describe an atrocity that happens all to often to some of the most beautiful women I know...

It has been a long uphill battle since I left the desert for the familiar sweet smell of the mountains in my birth home of Morgantown, WV...and those lies still creep around, they still tackle me to the ground, but the difference now...I get back up. No one, no one can make you see how beautiful and good enough you are, but YOU. I just hope fellow travelers that your journey to knowing that your value is intrinsic starts today...

huh? I'm sorry, I'm cute as hell! ;)

No comments:

Post a Comment