My Song of Freedom

One day my heart and eyes just opened up and I woke up and realized a few things. I realized I am a 50 y.o. Black gay man in America. I realized a generation of my gay male brothers succumbed to AIDS in the 80's and 90's. I realized a generation of my Black brothers were incarcerated in the 80's and 90's. I realized I am very wise and very intelligent and... very lucky and that many people cannot deal with that. And I realized, I don't care anymore.

One, just one way I can look at my life is through this lens: A good deal of my adult life has been comprised of people, mostly men but not exclusively so, having significant issues with "things about me," letting me know it and then trying to run a big ole trip on me because of it. And for a long time it worked.

Some Black, straight people have tried to run a trip on me about being gay and smart. Both of those are somehow seen as "trying to be White." Oh Lord have Mercy don't let me go there. Some White straight people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart. Many Asian Americans have just tripped and didn't know what to think about me. But since I was smart I got some respect. But most of them still wouldn't want me to date their son or daughter, sister or brother. Some White gay people have tried to run a trip on me for being black and smart and for not believing my gay identity is the most amazing and wonderful thing about me. Christians have tried to run a trip on me for not being "one of them" and for being gay. Alternative spirituality people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart and wise and learned and confident and happy and not needing their guru nor teacher nor their teaching to reach the awarenesses I have reached.

A different neo-Advaita person or student of Ramana Maharshi defriends me on facebook almost every week for God only knows what reason(s) because they never say why. At some point I had to just look at all of that; laugh, cry, then laugh some more and then cry some more and finally just realize-- you know what, this isn't really about me. This is their stuff. And you know what else, I'm not going to carry it anymore. I have enough of my own stuff to carry.

And for those moments I liberate myself from all the knowledge of everyone being one and everything being good and nothing existing and nothing being real and I simply celebrate my Black, Gay, Smart, Wise, Lucky Self. That's right-- Self, Myself, I, I, I, I... I love me, just the way I AM... Me , MySelf and I, baby. Now, you go deal with that! (big gay black, finger snap in a circle!)

This is my Song of Freedom... And I have realized that too many people have died so that I may be free. And Free I am. And Free I shall remain... Now, I'm not talking about no political freedom nor freedom from social constraints nor freedom from an enslavement created in and enforced by the minds of men. I'm talkin' 'bout freedom with a Capital "F" y'all. That's what I'm talkin' about. And when I got me a taste of that Freedom. Well, whew, there may be valleys and peaks; there may be good days and not so good days. But this is not a Freedom that can ever be threatened by the pull of the moon nor the threat of war or not even by death. This is a Freedom that can only be known about from the inside out. And once it is known, there ain't really no talkin' to be done anymore. This Freedom is beyond all that; its beyond words and concepts.

But you know what? I'm gonna talk about it whenever I can, because I can. And when a whole bunch of us are talkin' about it, then a song will be raised to the heavens. And like Bob Marley says, whom I share a birthday with...Hallelujah...when that happens--- it will be a Redemption Song. It will truly be a song of Freedom...

Yes, the guards were all imagined, the prison gates are no longer locked and all our attorney fees have been paid in full. Come join me in Rumi's field that is beyond right and wrong and where we will look into each others eyes forever and know that there is nothing more beautiful than either the other who is looking nor the reflection we see, nor the field itself...

© Raven/Sage Mahosadha

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