I have wanted to begin writing again somewhere, somehow and for some damn good reason.
For weeks now I have been finding my self once again struggling with my thoughts of women. They are truly a difficult breed. As I grow older I find our similarities haunting, intriguingly parallel and frightening. I have never cared for their behavior nor their intentions. Through the years I have discovered that there are women in this chaos that I find a mutual connection. Women who understand where I stand. Women who have stood in these shoes and walk amongst the feminine wiles with great caution. Because of them I have come to understand why we carry our independence on the outside of our skin and under our fingernails.
Currently I find myself balancing between shedding the skin of dislike and conformation with conforming and pretension. I have never been good at either one. Some would call it rebellion, maybe, but could it be refusal to be the norm? To not be the lamb? Could it be that I like me?
As I write these words I must also say that I am finding an interesting connection to women. Though we do seem to have our vanities no matter how complicated or simple they may be, the biggest thing I find to be true amongst us all is not the need to have a significant other in our lives but, to be loved, needed in some way, to not just nurture but, to also be nurtured and to be caressed by strength. Not stronger than ourselves but, greater than our defenses. Though it is difficult for many, we crave a moment to let go, a safe moment to shed our armor and be naked in our reveal without sound or judgment.
I am sorry really for the things that each of us cannot break through, I am sorry for the things that make some so angry and vindictive, for not feeling beautiful and complete. Though I will always be a cautious, struggling and independent female, always rising once again from the fire, I know that I do not do this alone and I want the same for all of the women in this very chaotic and humanistic world, and I know for most of you, you do this in your own way. No matter who you are, what you have done and been through, no matter whether you are a friend or no, I commend you in your rising and wish for you all the strength to find your own completeness. For those of you that I find a kindred spirit; I love you and I thank you for being the warriors that you are, I have always loved the black sheep of the world.
THE PHOTO
A few years ago I enjoyed a short road trip with some newly made friends. We stopped at a road side vendor on the Navajo (D'Neh) rez, just outside of Cameron on our way to the greatest canyon in the world. This beautiful woman aloud my friend Myles to take her photo. She was kind and told me a beautiful story of gathering pinion seeds in the folds of her skirt. She laughed when she said it took a very long time and it was very hard work. She had been doing this since she was a child and learned to make jewelry as a young girl. She took a moment and aloud me to try pinning the seeds with her tool for stringing. Her fingers were greatly callused and had been poked through many times for many years. She told me to be careful as I glanced at the table behind her, there sat several bags of seeds awaiting her tender fingers.
There are many differences between cultures, many differences between women, I have often looked at this picture and wondered what stories she could tell of our similarities. She does not look into the camera in order to keep her spirit, I love her old ways and wonder what we have given up and what we should have kept...
PS: Thank you Lynette, Myles and David for having me along on this journey.
