Where I is


Before I arrived at my mother’s home in Chicago, I was singing, and moving about in Valencia Spain. Valencia was the last stop on my 2 month tour of Europe. I had previously made a decision to move to Berlin, Germany in the spring. What would I do til then, I thought. With all the performing and artsy things happening in Valencia, my mind flirted with the idea of resting here for awhile. I mean it was warmer than Berlin this time of year. The idea that I would possibly stay in Spain was appealing to me. Any time I like a place, I think that I should possibly live there. I have a beautiful soul-friend from Spain who always welcomes me into her world(s) with open arms. It would be perfect. Then I began thinking about logistics. Toward the scheduled time of departure for my airplane back to the United States, I started to think that maybe I should get on this plane. I was at the tail-end of any money that was left after my two month adventure abroad, and the idea of staying in Spain (broke), became less attractive to me. It’s time to go.

The next adventure is borrowed from some indie flick with a cool black cat (me) who is attempting to travel between 5 different countries in 1.5 days. The film is kinda gritty, shot with a hand held camera, bumpy roads, shaky perspectives.  Because said character does not have  much money on his person, he is nervous about his itinerary. Our character actually doesn’t have shit when it comes to what he will “need” to get home, as far as money is concerned. Basically, said character is traveling to the UK from Spain, because he left his luggage in London. It seemed easier at the time, (that’s another story in itself). He would have to pick up his bag once he landed in the UK, rest for a few hours, and then travel by bus to the coach bus to arrive back at the airport. He would have to check his luggage and pay a fee that he does not have, in order for him to take his luggage with him on his flight.

The next few scenes in the indie flick lead you into an adventurous, breath taking trek to the airport.

Gatwick Airport. England.

So, the coach bus left the station late. There is not a lot of time in between the journey to the gate and the plane taking off. Our beloved character has to check his bag, which he has no funds to do so, and run to the gate to board his flight. Our beloved character pleads with British woman at easyjet kiosk. She makes faces which seem to look as if she gave 2 fucks about his situation. She cannot help him. She proves it by bringing in 2 other people who tell our character that he will miss his flight if he cannot pay for his bag. They have the same I don’t give a fuck on there faces as well. Our beloved character cannot miss this flight because it will take him to Amsterdam where he will take another flight, which was booked earlier, to Dublin, and finally NYC. He cannot miss this flight, he thinks out loud. He decides to run to the gate with his bag, go through security, and just hope it works. After he makes it past security he must make the long run to the gate. Muthafucking Gatwick. So long. Oh his lungs. My damn lungs. He gets to the gate, 2 beautiful woman stand there with smiles, he has made the flight.

‘Oh, you need to check this bag sir.’ If words had colors, these words would be blinking neon lights.

His face falls to the floor. He knows he must beg. He prepares himself for the worst, he will leave the bag if he must. A deep breath. 5 minutes later, he running down the long corridor to the airplane, and to his seat. No luggage in sight. A miracle just transpired. The beautiful women accepted our Beloved Character’s tears, and his bag, without the fee. He would travel with his bags to America. There was something that transpired back there with those two women, he thought. Life happened. They listened to me. My story, which is true, was accepted by breathing, living beings, he said to himself. As he text his last message, just before he powered off his smart phone, he closes his eyes and says thank you.

Indie film ends.

I arrive in Amsterdam, and check into my next flight. Since I purchased this leg of my flight back in September, I will eat on board the plane, and do not have to worry about paying to check my bag. I can chill. The first flight is cool. I eat, I sleep, and I laugh. Watching television up high in the heavens is a pleasure that I simply enjoy. Next move. Dublin. Did you know that the U.S. Customs exists inside of Dublin’s airport? I had no clue. It was one of the most shocking entrances back into the United States I had ever had. Well, I guess because it was happening in Dublin, Ireland.

U.S. Customs for me has always been a buzz kill whenever I returned home. Never have I ever met a smiling face. I am born and breed American. Blood and soiled Black African Native American. And, I travels. Yo, give a brother some props Customs Officer, I be traveling. But, no. Folks always got to have a frown. And, why not frown in Dublin too. All the workers were American, which means I must be in America. Which is why they had me sit in the “back” and wait for them to locate my bag. This damn bag!!!! As I sit, waiting in the “back,” I am reminded of all the attempts of placing people like me in the  “back”. Having me wait for the rights bestowed to all, but me. Sometimes. The fact that I was “home” was beating down any peace I had managed to create for myself abroad. Not even in the country yet, but they were back in my head. Since I’m super smart I smile, and I wait. And, I wait. And, I smile. And I sit. Finally. They’ve found my bags. I am off to New York.

I’ve been back in the states for 3 weeks. When I think about the humor and authenticity of my adventure, I am reminded of human beings. My thoughts remind me that life is happening all around us. When we are able to live honestly, willing to leave the damn luggage if we need to, in order to at least get our physical bodies home, we move beyond our things, and into ourselves. I cannot lie, I never took my mind off of my agenda. I needed to get home. Focusing in on where I was in the present moment, as it related to where I eventually wanted to go was the key. This precision in my awareness and acute insight helped me to arrive home, safe. Paying attention to each “now” as it appeared propelled me into my desired outcome. Being in the present moment saved me when I had no idea how it was all going to happen. I just knew it was going to happen.

Today, I shoveled snow, washed the dishes, made some coffee, had a meeting about my next video project, meditated, and wrote this blog entry. I had a conversation about Billie Holiday and her lover Tallulah Bankhead. I decided I will write a song about her. I know that everything that is transpiring right now is moving me forward toward my goals. I am acutely aware of this information and I believe, I trust, and I let go. I am breathing. I am thankful for that. I type this words and let go of any doubt, fear, struggle, and/or friction between myself and my dreams. I clear a path for my abundance to flow. I open my heart to love, as the rhythm of these keys remind me of charlie. I hear the joyful poetry between the buildings. Space. The wind caught up against the bricks, dancing, but swirling upward. In all this, I will acknowledge my present as the adventure it truly is.


One Response to “Where I is”

  1. Shirelle Tardy Says:


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