I knocked on a door that had taken in many women before me. It
was a welcoming and safe door. A door that offers second chances—a walking
stick for support when the path becomes muddy. Through that door the stars
realign themselves to form new constellations, giving us second births and new
destinies to seek.
I laid my compass on the table. I explained the arrow was
broken. I lost my way North. I had travelled the world with different comrades
here and there. I had met kind faces and violent fists alike. I had shivered in
lonely tundra and sweat in temples filled for communal prayer. My feet were
torn and my heart tired. I had seen it all, but my place was still unknown.
The woman before me picked up the compass. She studied it
closely before brushing off some dirt with the hem of her rainbow skirt. She offered me a place at the table and told
me I would always be welcome. She told me I should listen to the beat of my
compass, as not every soul was meant for Sirius.
As she walked away, with her skirt flowing behind her like a
banner of freedom waving with grace and pride, I noticed she had a woman
tattooed on her back. A woman unlike any I had ever seen. “Wait, who is the woman on your back?” “Every
woman who ever has been or ever will be. You are in her, and she is in you. She
is a reflection of what we could be if we stood together,” then she continued
to float on.
This home felt other-worldly with no two women alike, but
each woman honored for her being. It was a home where all were welcome no matter how many
times we abandoned our sisters, or found ourselves on the wrong train west. A
home of color and tears and life and laughter and beauty and truth. A home of
healing. A temporary home for those passing from one world to another.
Shamans, gangsters, the homeless, and men in suits came to
this home seeking remedies and healing for wounds inflicted by a cruel world. Visitors shared stories of heartbreak,
turmoil, love and jubilee. They spent hours at the table soaking in the peace
the women possessed. Through their visitors the women gained strength and
perspective, realizing they were gifted and needed, capable and good.
I wanted to be a part of this house, but I felt inadequate.
These women knew the language of our ancestors, they communed with spirits I
had never felt, and they made music with every step they took. Each had her own
color, her own story, her own style of connecting to the world. They said they
were lost, but I dreamt of being as sure as they. I asked them to draw me maps of the lands they
had journeyed.
They simply laughed and told me we were all on the same
journey and had seen the same lands. We had shared the same laughs and cried
the same tears. We had carried the same shovels to burry our loves, and we had
drummed the same rhythms before war. We had raised the same white flags of
surrender and danced to the same songs of hope. We had birthed the same dreams
and grown the same futures.
I looked at my hands, soft and sensitive, not a callous to
be found. Only chaotic noise flowed from the Djembe with fists of anger and
confusion. My feet could not dance the steps of a chief calling for rain. Like
a water color dropped in a puddle my dreams were a blur. My compass was damaged, my future unsure.
The days went on and the present became real to me. No
longer living in the past and future, I was living each breath as it came. Every
moment embraced with my dreams and reality becoming one. Each sun rise was a
new beginning, and each sun set a reminder that I still had a long way to go. A
mess of possibility surrounded me like the ever changing images of a
kaleidoscope. A mess I was prepared to jump into head first for all flowers
take root in dirt kneaded by worms.
The woman with the tattoo came to me one day. She gave me a
glass bottle. The glass was every color I had ever seen, more than any Crayola
crayon box could contain. “I feel you will be leaving us soon. Keep this
always. It is filled with drops of water from every river, lake and ocean.
There are grains of soil and sand from every country. Let it symbolize unity
and diversity. Inside is a sketch of my tattoo. Let it act as your mirror.”
“I have never seen a woman like the one on your back.”
“But you see her every day, all around you. Her features are
a physical representation of a global woman who calls each continent her home.
Her jewelry, make-up, feathers, and dress are inspired by world cultures that
have celebrated women. In her you can see your history and the future of your
daughters. Women of different colors, tongues, and prayers together and strong
so the world can be healed after the many scars it has endured.”
With that she got up, turned her back to me and walked
through the door to the street. As the door closed behind her I saw my
reflection calling me to face the call of the wind and the demands of the
road. I grabbed my compass and bottle,
ready for all that I would experience and feel and see and think and hear and
wonder, for the souls of those who stood before me were guiding me with grace
and wisdom, and the lives of those yet to come would keep me grounded and
focused, determined to love and embrace, fight and dream.
