today is the day i emerged from my Mother's womb, involuntarily so, which is probably why i seek so much for the spiritual sense of heaven that i once physically experienced as a fetus inside such a safe and peaceful haven.
yeah, it's my birthday.
and for some reason, it's hard for me to get "up" for it. i even wonder why i should. don't get the brother wrong, i am so thankful for being able to be on this earth, to work toward my goals, to love on my daughter and family and friends for another year. but as for parties and celebrations and dinners and all of that?
i haven't been feeling all that the last few years. i used to study the works of Dr. Josef A. A. Ben-Jochannon. he was controversial, outspoken, loud, belligerent, and wise as all get out. i went to Kemet with him the first time around, and it was revelatory. one day, when i was a young man, Doc Ben pointed out that we as African people have been so screwed up by western thought that we get things backwards, like Birthdays. he pointed out that on our day of birth, we did absolutely nothing. it was our MOTHERS who suffered through 9 months of body changes. it was our MOTHERS who labored for hours through misery and strife to bring us down into the birth canal. it was our MOTHERS who endured the pains of death to bring us into this world. so in the frankest terms:
our Birthday should be a celebration of our Mother's accomplishment.
made sense to me, and maybe that's what turned me. years ago, i started thanking my mother for giving birth to me; for the hard work and courage she displayed so many years ago.
and now, on my Birthdays, i just can't seem to make a big deal about myself. i've always spent a lot of time trying to make other people happy--co-workers, women, wives, etc. i believe in the success of people around me and i believe it's the way we are supposed to live life. yet, even on my Birh-day/Earth-day, i find myself doing for others as they do for me. odd, huh? maybe it's because on that one day, i want to go find my beautiful Mom, give my heartfelt thanks, then...
disappear.
i mean disappear. go find a park or water and just think about The Creator, try to remember what my grandmother's hands looked like, recall how slim my deceased Uncles were sans beer guts and reflect on how i may have hope for not being overweight one day--especially since i'm not a beer drinker. good stuff like that.
but the phone rings. the texts come. the people who earnestly want to help me celebrate "my day" come around. and i'm thankful, and grateful to have people in my life who want to celebrate me.
what happens when i'm not wanting to celebrate me, though? now, i do NOT have a complex. i'm not saying "omigod i'm a worthless rag of sin" and all that bullshit. i'm just saying, sometimes you need some reflection time so that you can understand who "me" is; so that you can remember the coordinates of "me island" in the swirling river of humanity; so that you can be even more grateful and loving to the people around you that are loved so much for all they give.
one of these birthdays, i'm gonna disappear--head to a foreign land, or the ghetto (same thing in some cities), and spend a day busting my butt helping out some people, after a morning of long meditation. then another day, i'm gonna do all that massage-ish/get your toenails cut off stuff; then another one, i'm gonna get naked and sit on a screen-in porch (i was gonna run outside, but man, bugs are crazy in this day and age and if i get all bit up and i go somewhere and am scratching every part of my body no one will want to talk to me).
but as for today, i'll enjoy the fact that i slept in. i just called a buddy of mine and asked him to go get a french press coffee with me (Yeah!); i'll scoop my daughter back up from her visit at her mom's and attach her to my hip for the rest of the day; i'll go to an early dinner at one of my favorite spots with some family and friends; maybe, just maybe, i'll make it out to the park tonight for the bi-weekly Big Band Dance and hear some decent swing, maybe convince my kid to have a dance or two with her corny old pops. that'd be cool.
for now, i hear the magic sounds of my yard man attacking the edges of the house with the weedeater. i'll be able to walk outside into a pretty darned clean yard without being worried a snake will slither across my pathway. what a birthday gift--although i have to pay for it. i wonder if i tell the yard man it's my birthday, he'll smile and say "Well, Damnit! it's on the house then, anything for you!"
now THAT would really be a great Birthday gift...
