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Try New Things
Stories about my life and the wisdom gained by surmounting obstacles along the way.
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A section dedicated to values, the building blocks of individuality and authenticity.
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Little Khadijah stood patiently in the back of the classroom looking at the table covered in seashells. She looked at each one in turn, admiring their individual fragility and softness. She wondered at the muted colors and the unusual shapes. Each looked different and yet somehow they were all the same. She looked on, mustering as much interest as possible, as she patiently waited for her teacher to return to the room.
It was a fantastically sunny day outside and many of the people I love were gathered around. My husband was playing soccer with friends and family. I looked around watching, feeling joyful. We were all waiting for the bus to come to take us on to a new place, but it felt less like waiting and more like enjoying. Suddenly, I decided to leave the place where we were expecting the bus and to go back to where we were before we had left for the bus station. I felt an inner caution that I might miss the bus, but I ignored it, thinking I’m sure it will be fine. Sure enough just as I arrived back at the place we had just left, I saw the bus drive past. Panicked, I turned to run back to the bus stop, assuring myself I would make it on time. When I turned I looked across the lawn of dry, brown grass, and realized that the distance back to the bus stop was much farther than I had thought. I began to sprint, hoping I would make it.
Existence presents us with a smorgasbord of opportunity. It’s like a food court that goes on for miles and miles, perhaps even eternity. We sweet spiritual beings come like little majesties to this Earth with the Universe providing all we need for our little Earth adventure. We great abundant beings walk along the rows and aisles of this limitless food court, so full of plenty, so worthy that we never need to worry about how to pay for what we want or need or whether it is too expensive. It is all there for the taking. All we need to do is ask.
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Just some weeks ago I had a dream: An eye appeared before me, beautiful and bold. I examined the Eye and wondered at the joy it exuded. While staring and examining it in awe, the Eye swung back, like a door opening to a new pathway. I stepped through the opening into a room. In front of me, on the couch, sat my inner child or me as a child. I was ecstatic to see her and to have the opportunity to physically embrace her. I walked over to her, and although I could tell she had a different intent for my being there, I insisted on holding her as tightly as I could. My heart was full of the desire to show her I value her and love her and to defeat any neglect. She received my coddling patiently but it quickly became apparent that she had a task for me and needed me to focus.
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As a child my mother would take me to the church soup kitchen to volunteer. She and I would cook and make care packages for all who came seeking hot meals and non-perishables for themselves and their families. I remember my first time helping out. The doors opened and slowly people began walking in, some with shopping carts full of their most prized possessions and others alone. Some greeted each other like old friends. I remember one woman who came in greeting others with a smile. She wore a white t-shirt and through it you could see her large breasts moving back and forth, free of the usual constraint.
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It was 2004, the year of my first presidential election and an important one. To be more specific it was the first time that I would be allowed to cast my vote and join in on determining who would have the responsibility of running my home, the United States of America.
The republican George Bush was up for reelection and the Democrats had chosen John Kerry as the worthy opponent. Among these two main candidates were many others from different parties such as the Independent and Green parties. There would also be the opportunity to elect other officials to different offices. It was up to me to weigh-in and push for the candidates I thought would best manifest our collective highest greatest good. What a delightful burden to carry.
Looking forward to this new beginning I registered to vote and took all of the necessary steps to make sure that I could participate. Not only did I feel that it was important to vote and have a say in how one is led, but I also wanted to show respect for all of those who fought hard to ensure that I received my due right to vote as a Black woman. So much sacrifice to eradicate prejudice and limitation. I wanted to be sure to honor that sacrifice by casting my ballot.
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The meeting room was full, and on this particular summer day in Munich, Germany, my colleagues hesitated to wander back to their desks only to sit out the afternoon and wait slowly for finishing time to come. You could see them grasping for relevant work topics, when they finally gave up and a lively conversation about beer ensued. I looked at the door, wondering if I could make a run for it. I looked sideways at my boss, who nestled more snugly into her chair, and frowned. I was relatively new at the company and didn’t want to seem anti-social, so I took my cue from her and hung around with a forced smile. Small talk can be so taxing. As an introvert with only rare (and sporadic) extrovert tendencies, I struggled to get into the mood to talk about nothing.
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This particular morning I woke up joyful, ready to manifest a wonderful day. I jumped out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make tea. It’s the only way to properly start any day. And this day needed to jump off well, considering it was the beginning of my vacation, and I always feel a little pressure to make sure that my vacations are wonderfully relaxing, which in all honesty, sometimes gets in the way of my reaching that goal.
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“When I grow up and become a boy,” Little Khadijah would say, “then I’m gonna…” and usually this passionate declaration would be followed by the description of some kind of fantastic adventure.
As a child I would make completely outrageous statements that seemed quite the norm to me. Often these claims were met with humor and teasing but I could not be deterred.
“One day they will see.” I thought to myself.
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Song: “Blippy Trance” by Kevin MacLeod from freepd.com, CC0 license
„Mom, can you buy me a tie and a white button-down shirt?” It was 1993, and Little Khadijah was in the 4th grade.
“Sure. I will pick them up tomorrow.” She replied.
“That’s it?” I thought. “No questions?” That was easier than I had expected.