Free bird

I was looking through my mothers books. She a university professor in Kampala, and me a tiny seven year old...

I stumbled upon this poem. My heart stopped. I "got" it. This woman had put into words, a torment I was just beginning to feel. Many decades later through enneagram work, I would begin to understand the source of my inner torment- the bane of a 7 existence- 

the desire for FREEDOM!!!

Unencumbered, unchallenged, limitless 

... F R E E D O M ...

Through the years I read and re-read it over and over. Yesterday, my heart stopped again. The woman that put words to it was gone, and that news was crushing! To me it was...

You see along the years, she was familiar to me, known to me, she got it- and never for a second did I stop to wonder that I did not know her- of course I knew her, she was with me everyday, in the many readings and layers and flavors that wordsmiths become a part of our lives.

Yesterday, I could not post about this. I was grieving...

Today I am sad.

I am also elated-

As I read it yet again, I realized that I resonate not with the caged bird but rather the free one! It was a quiet epiphany, this one...

I finally have found my type 7 freedom-

I comforted the little child me who was torn apart by the many layers of controls that are the agony a type 7 child endures. For that I am grateful to two men- Russ Hudson and Michael Naylor and the fellowship of my enneagram community.

I also realized that my sweet type 2 daughter is presently suffering her own type 2 captive struggles. 

I write this piece for her... My sweet Bug-

I want her to know how strong she is, and how completely beautiful, both inside and out...

I want her to know it will be okay. She will prevail over adversity. 

I want her to know she can find her own way and that she should trust herself. And most of all I want her to know that I love her endlessly, and unconditionally and that will not change.

I want her to know she comes from a long line of strong, bad ass women! Women who are titanium. 

I want her to know those women

Me

My mother

My grandmother

And all the women who influenced us

Women like Maya Angelou 

Women that inspired

And mentored 

I want my Bug to resonate with the free bird- sooner rather than later...

I want my little Bug to fly!

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.