My body bears scars of a people that are long gone. Their ghosts live within me and each day when I choose myself, I break another generational curse. I have lived the past ten years as a bridge, always caught between two places. A foreigner, yet bringing a sense of home. The one who glued it all back together. The one who re-united. The one who loved. The one who cared. The bridge that never got tended to and began to rust until the weight of the feet that walked upon her was too heavy a burden to bear. That bridge broke.
I sit upon the grave of my past self and I smile. I have been mourning her for several years now, and I am finally ready to move on. Grief is such a storm that it never settles, it only evolves. I know this, because it is the very nature of my work. One never stops grieving loss, they simply learn to live with it. They accept it. They honor it. I have been wondering how I can honor my past self. How do I celebrate the incredible power that she had? That girl with big dreams who crossed oceans, simply a child, ready to leave behind her entire family and culture to pursue her destiny. That girl who spoke several languages and learned several more to create a new home for herself. That girl who would go wherever her heart would take her, even into the mouth of the tornado, and still persevere. That girl who loved so fiercely that her fire burned everything and everyone around her. How do I honor that girl?
I am a woman now. I no longer align with the whimsy and idealism that I once had. It has played it’s role in guiding my purpose thus far. It has now been replaced with a fierce determinism. I know what I want and I will have it. The woman that I am now does not wish upon a star, she is it. The woman that I am now, knows how to hold her heart. She does not need anybody to hold it for her. I alone know how to bear the crest that I adorn. I have always known my mission, I knew it when I left my home exactly ten years ago. I knew that my dreams were too big to contain in a single country. I still know this, and this is why, I know I will move from here too, when it is time.
I was fortunate to be born into a family where no dream was too lofty. Perhaps that is why I still believe in magic. Because my blood has instilled in me the belief that I can do anything.
I still remember being 15 years of age, wanting to be a musician. I wrote songs day and night. S reminded me last night of how I would carry my guitar with me to every classroom, almost like a third arm. I believed in my dream so much that my father saved up for me to go to the best summer program in the world to receive advanced music training. I came back, definitely more musical, but still scared. I lacked the discipline that I needed at that time, to accompany my passion. Years have passed since. I realized at 21, my music was driven by my psychosis. It was a channel for my madness, not a coffer of my strength. I couldn’t continue. I just didn’t believe in myself hard enough. There was always somebody better, somebody prettier, somebody with a sweeter voice, a smaller body, a whiter and more porcelain face. My past self lost herself in comparison and fear. My voice was buried within the echoes of all that surrounded me. I stopped singing.
Fast forward 6 years. I found my voice again. I am writing, singing and composing again. Every single day, almost like a meditative practice. It took 10 years of betraying myself. 10 years of self doubt. 10 years of failing and trying again. 10 years of giving my power away. 10 years of accommodating, compromising and veiling. 10 years of searching. 10 years of waning and growing. This full moon is eternal now. Rudra, she hides no more. This voice is a roar and the lioness is hungry. It is time.
I am a woman now. I know what I want. I go after it with venomous distinction. Despite, despite, despite. I will leave some. I will embrace others. I will pursue and progress. My asking eyes have been glowing for some time now. My reflection is ethereal. The last of my sickness took away whatever was left of my fear. Anything I can dream of, my future self already has. Unafraid, I race towards our future. Because I already know that I will create it.
This picture was taken on a day when I lost something very dear to me. It had contained the heart of my migration journey. This means so much more to me now. It is the mark of my strength.