On this day, many years ago, a little baby came into the world. Such a beautiful and sensitive little thing, with wild hair and intense, dark eyes. She was love and tenderness with the fiery heart of a lion.
I don’t think she cried a lot, but knowing the woman she grew into, I can guess that she probably didn’t smile and laugh a lot either. You see, the stars gave her a gift. She felt the energy of the world. She could read people, and in response, tailor her actions and reactions to suit. And being the little chameleon she was, she absorbed all the energy of those most precious to her. Joy, as in wide smiles, and belly laughs, would not come easily, nor would trust, taking the world far too seriously, remaining on the outskirts, watching, and studying everything, everyone, in an attempt to glean their true intentions.
She would tell you her first love, outside her family, was a shaggy, slobbery dog, but I would suggest it was nature and wildness, and wearing nothing but her undies like the feral girl she was. She loved clovers and bees, the smell of ponies, the slime of catfish sliding through her fingers as she tried to capture them, and watching deer bound through the field. She was fascinated and terrified of volcanoes and ticks, and was drawn to the trees and climbing, monkey-like, up their limbs, only to sit and contemplate the world around her. This love she had was quiet, and tender, and if she could, she would wrap all the world in her arms and hold it like a precious, fragile flower, protected and safe.
Years later, she would climb onto the roof, lay on her back, and marvel at the stars. There she would imagine, with reverence and fear, a space so vast that it had no beginning, and no ending. She would contemplate humanity’s place in it, and how such a thing could exist. She lost herself in that dark sea of twinkling beings that flickered like fireflies, as she floated away with them, embraced by their light.
You have to know, her childhood was not bad. She was safe and clothed and fed, ticking all the boxes. But for such a sensitive, in a world where such a thing was a weakness, was misunderstood, the jeering and shame of it was painful. So she morphed, and changed, and hid certain parts of herself. And as layers of projected trauma and beliefs of those around her, formed like a hard shell of armor, she subconsciously molded her behavior to suit. She took on shit that wasn’t hers. She didn’t know it, but she would, for decades, search for love and validation outside of herself, because really, that’s all she wanted, for someone to love her true heart in all its watery sweetness, in all its fiery spirit…because she didn’t know how to do that for herself.
And now, here she is, 60 years later and fuck if she’s not figuring it out. I’m so proud of her. It’s been a long road, and it’s far from over…but she’s got the drive and determination to see it through. It’s not been easy to identify and shed those layers of beliefs that aren’t hers…quiet those voices that belong to others. She’s unraveling like an old quilt, teasing apart the strands. It’s generational, and societal, and heavy with the history of it, and for some weird, fucked up reason, she’ll miss the weight of it when it’s gone. But then she’ll feel the breeze of freedom on her skin…skin that’s suffocated for far too long…and her body will feel lighter, lifting her heart in joy…that joy she’s been searching for, that she’s been praying for.
Faith has eluded her most of her life, but now she prays, and she truly believes. And in her prayers is a desire from her fiery heart, not for trinkets and bobbles, for she no longer has need for such things. She prays for connection, health, and to become a better human. She’s returned to her roots, that little child in awe of the world, and she gives gratitude to this beautiful planet, Gaia, for without her, the human experience, in all its beauty and cruelty, could not exist. And she thanks the stars for the lessons and opportunities for growth. And to use her innate gifts to be a light for others so that they, too, may learn their true hearts.
And on this special day, the day of her Solar Return, the day the Sun returns to his original place in her sky, she takes his hand and thanks him for allowing her to walk this wheel another day. And she realizes she doesn’t need anyone to prove their love to her. She’s finally doing it for herself. And only by loving herself, can she better love others.
Blessings from your witness,
Charise
The Laughing Parrots 