What I distinctly recall was being told we were all going downtown and then suddenly making a pit stop on the way, being ushered rather slyly into her residence and then locked in her first floor apartment with no answers as to when they would return. I can imagine it may have been to keep me from inviting a boyfriend I had at the time over to my parents' home, had I stayed behind, alone, there.
Confusion aside, I was pretty angry. I was hurt and, naturally, I cried as I watched them drive off. I had never set foot inside this lady's house before that day. Looking back, I don't even think I went to explore other rooms. I just sat in a chair in her living room in front of a massive stereo system. Her music collection easily filled two large walls.
I wiped my face eventually and began to sift through her treasury. This was the 90s so there were lots of records and tapes; a mountainous shrine of cassettes. There was an eclectic mix, from house music to folk to new wave and punk. The album, "Wish" by The Cure had been released a few months prior to this one-day incarceration. I have enjoyed that band since the weird (to me, at the time) video for "Love Song" was played on MTV, what seemed like 24/7 in 1990.
I was struck when I saw she owned every previously released album of theirs. I plucked "Kiss me Kiss Me Kiss Me" from the display. I played the entire album. The final song to rush through the air was "Just Like Heaven." It was worth listening through an entire eight songs of foreign tunes to breathe in such melodious magic.
When it ended I played it again. I lie calmly on the floor, taking it in. I played it again, standing. I rewound it and played it again, dancing. I rewound it and played it again, louder. I played it again, learning the words. I played it again, singing the lyrics. I played it again, shouting and singing and waving my arms in the air, flushed with euphoria. Happy to be alone, even though I'm I sure this woman's neighbors were out of their mind with insanity over my display of angst. I played it again. . . and again. . .
103 times. I know this. I remember. I will never forget.
"...Youuuuu, soft and only.
Youuuuu, lost and lonely.
Youuuuu, just like heaven."
In the end, I felt lucky to have found that song. It became my friend and companion. And in hindsight I do know why my parents "locked me up" that beautiful afternoon in someone's apartment in a strange neighborhood. They were young.
My mother gave birth to my older sister when she was barely 16. The panic between my parents was quite easy to recognize once it set in on my 13th birthday. Boys were coming to the door on skateboards asking if I may come out. Others were arriving with their shirts off to ask if I'd like to go swimming. They surely worried I would be a young mother.
And, at that young age, (13 and younger) honestly, I didn't care about all that. I wanted to ride my 10-speed with my friends and talk about math and art and beg for details from them as to what it was like to play softball, be a cheerleader, a girl scout, do gymnastics...take dance classes. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to be more active. I wanted to run in the grass with the sun on my face. That is what I really wanted. We weren't permitted to go far from the house if we were outside. We were always together. Four kids. It was overwhelming for my mom. And I can absolutely understand now, being a mother, myself. She slept ...a lot.
We took care of each other much of the time, us siblings. We even joke about writing a book "How to Parent Yourself." (or NOT to...) Due to some events from our upbringing, we are extremely close or clannish. It has also, even today, become difficult (for me) to separate from them. We have endured hunger and discomfort together as children. We have also enjoyed and delighted at family outings and the celebration of coming-of-age milestones and accomplishments. All of us have taken from music and the harmony it naturally prescribes, as it was played daily in the home. Thank heaven for that.
And maybe that's why I listened to that song over 100 times. Maybe, even as a 15-year-old (very much still a child), I was nurturing my inner child. I was being free, though I was locked in. I was understanding that I only wanted movement.
I wanted answers.
It was always hard to get answers. Not that I could have fully understood, anyway, as a little girl; my parents not having the means or the adequate time to tend to our individual needs as unique, separate human beings.
I can understand. I can stop being angry. I'm hopeful I can stop hurting over feeling caged in. Stop feeling guilty for taking the last piece of bread when my older sister sacrificed it for me. Stop feeling like I wish I could have done something to help my younger siblings at times I couldn't, even though it wasn't really my duty in the first place.
Now that we are all adults, I also must comprehend that, as much as I hold immense love for them, their needs are their own. I must tend to my own desires so that I can shower my young son with seeds of love to feed his life with nourishment. I need to function as an individual.
I need to take my inner child (as Nicole Guillaume, founder of Guiding Echoes rather soothingly explained in her YouTube Daily Oracle reading for Thursday, June 5th, 2014) and have a moment to give her what she needs.
She needs to go for a damn walk is what she needs. She needs to keep listening to music. She needs to find like-minded people so she is able to flourish in her own community; not to escape from the clan, but to become more balanced. To be lifted in new ideas, rather than commiserate about things that will never be resolved since they are from a place that no longer exists.
Yesterday I started to write a piece, an ode to the Troupe of Chrysalis. (The court cards of the deck.) Something stated by Toney Brooks in the guidebook: "This much is true with all spiritual quests: you never walk alone." (p46)
Since I'm still in the middle of that "ode" I only drew from the Troupe this morning.
I pulled The Corsair. (Other names include Knight of Wands (RWS) or from Chrysalis' original suit, Knight of Spirals. Love the spirals. Love it. love.)
From the guidebook:
"Attributes: INDEPENDENT
STRONG-WILLED" (p54)
The last sentence of his description and meaning reads, "The Corsair emboldens you to live life to the fullest on your own terms."
Just gazing at this "Otherworldly," assured, confident pirate I feel the same "friendship" I felt blasting that song so many years ago.
"Do your thing, Girl. Be strong. Be independent. Be free."
It's going to be hard. At least I know I'm not alone.
No one is. Believe.
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