"Deep calls unto deep..."
"Thou Sword of Truth, fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure"
-Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty
I watched 'The Lion King' (again) on Broadway last week, with great company. As a creative artist, I was reminded again of the impact and power of art done right and the devastation should it go the other way. The lion in me connected with Simba more deeply this time than the first time we met. You see, the power of self-realization and the revelation of purpose creates a craving that is tempered with courage. So a lion behind the confinements of a cage, cursed into the restriction of 'non-function' would prefer to be dead than live another day.
Spoiler Alert: Simba ran from his position and destiny, the pain and drama associated with it (destiny) was just too much for him to bear. I was a run-away kid. I just did not go any where physically. I did not have the guts to be that rebellious and most importantly I did not want to saddle my dad with more grief than he already had to bear. So I ran in my head. And in my head, hateful jabbering and cussing sounded like 'la la la'... But here is the part that brought tears to my eyes. When he (Simba the lion) looked into the mirror as advised by the shaman. He saw his father, he saw himself, he saw his inevitable destiny. No matter how painfully plaguing the past had been, he could not ignore the call and pull of purpose and position.
Such was my battle. After penning about 300 poems, 7 short stories (by the way most of my poems were taken and I feel deeply sorry for the entity that pulled that stunt) and singing my heart out. There was always a boulder standing on the verge of my break-through. I know my environment was never really supportive of my creativity (though some enjoyed it), but my creative juices flowed none-the-less. That is a sure sign of your purpose, with or without support and fanfare it still thrives. It endures because it has already been written in indelible ink.
My dear Medical Doctor daddy (bless his resting heart) wanted so much for me to be a Doctor too! But above all I know he wanted the tears of agony to stop and for me to come to my own place of joy. I was so elated when he did not have a heart attack over my Pageant adventures. In fact he was proud of me. Always was.
I don't know if I agree that 'practice makes perfect', but I know it makes good better and so on. So by the time I was invited a second time to try out for the same pageant, I was not quite as clueless as I was the first time around. I knew my colors, make-up, strengths, outfits and what not to say in an interview! You see we get to have the best in the business come and teach us. So even though only one girl goes home with the crown, the rest never go back the same way they came.
I stepped on to the stage (from behind the curtains), as my cue came to make my leisure 'queenly walk' down the runway. We had been trained, rehearsed and knew just what to do. We had watched those before us. And being that my surname was towards the end in alphabetical order, I was saturated with knowledge and excitement. I took my fluid steps, I was feeling the crowd. This felt good and I was finally in my element. As I got to the end of the stage, where I was supposed to stop, pose and look right at the camera with its bright but kind lights. I did look, but froze because of what I saw... The 'curse' harassing my life was definitely at its peak now.
Aaaahh.... for to feel free, feisty and fierce!
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