i have to tell you something
i started smoking a few months ago; cigarettes, only because other stuff is usually rolled with it here in trinidad. not the practice i ever saw anywhere else. leave it to trinidad to always do some converted conflicting thing to the purpose at hand. but that is beside the point. i am now writing about something that appears to be so total, to a man, that i now have to declare it, share it, acknowledge it to the universe and hopefully, it be part of my process to heed and obey....but in these months, no matter where i go: up, down, across, at the hyatt, or on the neighborhood corner bar, almost every man, will ask me of my smoking: how i smoke, what is the reason, what is my life and all to tell me,: I should stop. the last person: was my server at the hyatt last night while i sat out on the balcony after meal and sunset dark, with my digestif and smokes. he also told me to pray, which is the other exhortation i hear most from strangers.
i have no earthly idea what it is people see that makes them instruct me, exhort me, or want to guide me, but now, for the first time, i am no longer marking it up to fassness or out of place ness, but, the same way there are the dark ones who see me in whatever kind of way that makes them want to hate, i am believing these other people see some kind of light that they for one reason or another odd, are trying to preserve...and oh the comments have been rich...i hear : " you are too beautiful to smoke" "you are too 'nice' to smoke"; and then the whole litany of them wanting to tell and show me the effects of smoking on my body...sigh. when i tell them i spent decades taking care of this temple in pristine sacred fashion and so now i can deduct some points, they are not having it..."you will start to wrinkle" smh. so. my whole plan of being an old woman who smokes because my great grandmother smoked a pipe, ...perhaps i need to wait till i get my indigenously naturally made peace pipe. and stop with the commercial poison. of course too when i tell them i plan to grow my own tobacco, everyone is excited about that idea...but until then...i need to listen...listen...and that is a personal cross for me to bear...miss ownway stubborn, i am told.
but i just had to share..
that and another thing that has me feeling weird. i think this year 2013 and moreso in the last few weeks, last two months, i have been meeting characters and personas just not on my usual platform of living which also means i find myself in places, at times, i never would have before. and now i came home last night wondering about that. it is almost like i want it to stop now. it was cute and cool being adventurous. now lets flip the page. close that chapter. find a new book. but often, while i am there, i often wonder why, for what purpose. am i going to do something sometime in the future where when i rise up these people will say, i know her, or will these people be my lieutenants, my street crew for some reason...it is bizarre. that is it. this year is kind of bizarre...
reminds me of another thing last night. two firsts. that make me go internal and wonder deeply why and how, the science behind what is blithely said of no significance by the speaker, but the weight of the words are almost requiring extra hands to carry...a police officer, i think he said he is 53 or 55, referred to me as his big sister. I was floored. we/i often speak of men not respecting women, and here was this strongman who whereever we go, folk part ways and he is keeping order, refers to me so. it made me wonder and reflect of all the times he has seen me and what it is he sees to confer such an honor. In my day and time, to call someone your elder..well.
and then late last night another guy who would not take his eyes off me, by the end, came over to me and said, "i dont know what you did to me, but you have me smoking when i dont smoke, and here is the clincher, he said to me, i dont know, it is puzzling, i am trying to analyze you, it is like you are a sadist. and i asked him what did that mean cause i could not believe this man was so calling me...but he defined it accurately, he said, "it is like you are "hostile and beautiful"
yes folk,, people writing scripts and independent film lines worthy of honors and awards, in port of spain, and we are none the wiser.
talk about life in movement: film
my stories of the day///
and it does not end there...
two nights ago i had a dream that made no sense:
my estranged father was in the dream, it was like we were living in the same house, a house full of light and light color, and there was a child, that clearly belonged to us, who i am not sure, what relation i do not know but this child was also light, light as to be almost white, if she was not in fact a white child...and i was preparing and calming and ministering her as to perform surgery upon her, this child that was about five years old, no older than ten, a myomectomy. but she already had one, and had the scar to prove it, a scar that is much like mine, cause i have had three, and the last one of the greatest scar, almost from hip to hip, but her's the little girl's it was artistically done, like a tattoo, and circle curls , two on each side a bit inside from each end. and that is all i remember.
then a friend wrote me the following morning of that night and asked me had i yet applied to medical school (Teocah Arieal Ainka Dove)/ and i thought that was odd. he felt i need to be a doctor to the extent i care about people. and i thought that too was a heed. see the larger point of all this writing is i think i am getting many signs and wonders from the universe and landscape. in ways i think many would miss, i am trying to not to miss them.. but here is the thing about this dream and this event...i learn yesterday evening that a friend of mine had an emergency myomectomy this last week (mouthopen). yeah. isnt that peculiar? i dream it and it is happening somewhere...or happened...
smh. i have no answers to the fabric being weaved. but will be sure to tell you when i wear it; when it covers.
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