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As my long dreadlocks touch and caress my naked back and chest, I feel the love of my dedication to social change touching the nerve endings of my skin and my soul takes a breath. I am a rasta man with a head of long dreads, my living prayer beads which I twist and pray with every day. My prayers are prayers for the healing of myself and my planet.
I pray for one love, the uniting of the people, the healing of the pain that lives within them. I have prayed this prayer since I was a child, as I watched my mother attempt to balance a world seemingly out of her control. A life that moved like a raging river looking for a home, a place to feel safe within its own skin. I watched my grandfather pack our house we built and prepared to turn the page and then moved on. I have learned to feel life and not be afraid. At this moment, I feel this state of peace as I am living my life as a living prayer.
When I look back at my life, it makes me want to move forward because there is so much story to be told.
Number one, I was raised by a woman who was a feminist by necessity. In order for us to survive, we had to work together as a unit. Therefore, there were no gendered job assignments, there were just jobs to be done. One’s sex assignment was not a trait that was any better than the other, but together they were so much stronger. I spent a lifetime feeling everything, my divine masculine and my divine feminine, because they were only tools to be used. It became natural like breathing.
Number two, I have gathered all the happenings in my life to know the true value of the sum of the basket I carry.
Number three, I have learned the beauty of the gift that I have been given and through conscious awareness and daily practice I have created a ritual of being present. Through this life journey of practice, I have learned to be my gift with a sense of grace and integrity. I have learned, also, to be a leader with compassion.
Being the eldest of six, I had to help my mother handle the household and the children. I learned my purpose in life early. We were a small village within ourselves and all were needed to survive. I knew my place of belonging and I knew I was needed to maintain peace, hope, and serenity. I was my mother’s little man, the kindest male my mother had ever known.
I was her little man, her little male child and I would be different. It took me a long time to understand how who I was to make a difference. I became a man who has and had deep respect for women and their positioning in our lives. I learned to respect and honor the divine feminine in women and in myself. It is all just a respect for life itself.
At first, in my early stages of being trained to be a modern man, I was angry. I keep asking why I have to be so much when I saw other men not caring. But, when I experienced abuse by traumatized, angry men, I began to understand the reason. There came a time I felt shame for being a man and began a sense of self-hatred for myself. As a practicing performance artist and spoken word artist, I was spitting words of hatred for the ways of uncompassionate males. I continue until one day I looked into the mirror and said to myself, “I can’t hate men, because I am one.” At that point, I started the journey of balance, the being of divine masculine and the divine feminine in unity.
The process was a long one of enlightenment. As a hair designer, I was surrounded by women and I was allowed to exhibit my sense of divine feminine and enjoyed the safety. I was young, fresh, and open. I spoke with an open heart and always extended my hand. I called for a conversation, a sharing of love and wisdom. I listened to the stories of women and learned of their language and their struggles. I added the stories of my mother and grandmother to the new stories unveiling and expanding my perception of womanhood. The women welcomed the display and comfort I had with my divine feminine. My mother had taught me how to bond and I knew it like breathing. I was my mother’s supporter and I relished in the act of support. It was my gift of purpose.
Still there lived an anger within, because I did not feel totally recognized as my full self, as an evolved and balanced man. I still felt looked down upon because I was not afraid to display my feminine side. I still wanted to be respected as a man and later in life as a father. The fact I was a gay father, people thought I was truly an oddity. That fact made me angry because I wanted a family like every other man or person would want.
The year was 1986 and my daughter was born. My life changed with a deeper sense of being present in this world of ours. I had someone who would love me unconditionally. I needed the support and I wanted to give it freely. I was to learn more deeply the art of giving love more freely without expecting it back. I was just 36 and had no idea what I was to learn, how to be a better man. I would learn to live with more intimacy with myself and my community.
In my attempts to be a better man, I spent too much time giving and not enough time receiving. I wanted people to see the most positive side of a modern man, yet I could not be my full self nor could I love my entire self. I wanted more control in how I was being seen as a man, but I was not totally sure what that really looked like. I could not see myself in the present because I was working on being a dream. I imagined myself as a more positive man, but I still carried a low level of shame for being in the state of being a man. I did want to be the typical man. I wanted to be a strong, compassionate man. But, again, I was not sure what that really looked like. I was soon to learn, I just had to be my most authentic me.
My grandfather was a quiet mannered and loving man, a strong man of faith. I respected his image and role modeling, and yearn to be in the position of being seen as that type of man. I saw him as a balanced human and a compassionate being. He helped those in need. He gave of himself to his church and his community. He was there for his family.
He was a man of love.
He spent countless hours telling me stories, listening to the tales of my stories. My grandfather waited on my every word. The man gave me a sense of value. He was not a perfect human being, but he was always on the road of becoming. He lived in the hope of becoming more today and tomorrow. He believed in forgiveness of others and especially of himself. I had to learn to forgive him, as he must have had to do the same for me. I love my grandfather’s story. I have become a reflection of him, but I am my own man.
I love my grandfather’s story. I have become a reflection of him, but I am my own man.
I have finally I found the truth of me.
I am a grateful gay father of a beautiful and talented daughter and a friend to my daughter’s mother. I am a supportive man of my community and I believe in the equality and rights of all people. I am a sacred, sustainable artist for change, a rasta man of one love. I am a poet and writer who uses his voice to invite compassionate human conversation. I paint images of poetic visioning daily in a quest for peace. I am my mother’s and my grandfather’s son.
That is the truth of me and who I am.
Once I finally learned how to become a friend to myself, wisdom taught me to use every ingredient in my human story, every happening as a gift and not a punishment. I have learned to just learn the lesson and use the lesson and never fight change.
Looking out into my garden I see the beauty of the succulents, the palm trees, and blooming flowers. In the air that moves like waves of gathered breaths, it is then I realize the grace of the longevity in having the habit of breathing long enough to know the grace of living life on life’s terms.
I realize I have awakened to the same story every morning of this life’s journey with the same fear of the coming day, the fear that was coming from within. When I allow my mind to see the beauty and strength of the succulents, the palm trees, and the blooming flowers, I could then allow myself to move with the air that moves like waves gathering breaths. I now know these memories of these breaths are the food of what I will live on throughout my day.
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This story has been republished to Medium.
Photo credit: iStock
Thanks for sharing your story and insights Terrell. Peace & love my brother!
You are a gift Terrell. I’m blessed to know you. Thank you for living your truth and sharing your story.