URNotAlone

A Vivacious Life of Color

April 1st, 2009 8:14 pm MDT

The bee--does it care who are?

It spends its time traveling from flower to flower, collecting pollen. Like a wisp of woodsmoke, it will die, only to be replaced by another.

Do dogs judge us? Their main concern is love, companionship, and getting a few juicy bones during their short time on earth. Their precious lives too are like wisps of smoke, and they leave only their barking, tail-wagging memories behind.

What of us? Do we care who we are? Do our parents? Our friends? What defines us during our brief, ephemeral lives? Money? Success? Relationships? Accomplishments?

How many of us let our fires burn bright? Fires hot enough to soar to the treetops? How many let their inner sap fuel and color their fire to brilliant shades of many colors?

Sadly, many souls self-dampen their own fires with fear--fear that produces thick, choking smoke.

In the Southern California mountains, a certain plant only blooms and germinates when a brushfire reaches a certain temperature. These types of fires burn with incredible intensity, leaving a seemingly pallid path of destruction. But after the smoke clears, flowers that require fire blooom, and the landscape undergoes a recyclatory transformation.

Enough writing about fire and science. And enough on abstract theories!

Let me tell you about a woman named Jeanette. Only a few have been priveleged to meet her--to see her attend church, go shopping at Borders, eat with her friends, dance with joy.

Jeanette lives in a decidedly male body. She has a male voice, and lives much of her life as a male. Yet, her soul is pure female. Her fire burns brightest when she can express her femininity. It's not that she hates her male side, but she feels so stifled by the stereotypical expectations that classify her as male. She is also acutely aware of genetic females' frustration with their own set of forced stereotypical expectations--oh, say having to wear pink dresses or black stockings.

But Jeanette finds that to be only male means producing only boring, gray, wispy woodsmore--from a dying fire.

But to express her female side? Oh, her fire burns hot, and expels bright, magical plumes of smoke of aqua, green, purple, and yes...pink.

But in the end, why does it matter that she get to wear red heels, nylons, pretty blouses and glittery makeup? It matters because this is who she is. Have you ever told a butterfly to not emerge from its cocoon--to remain a lowly caterpillar? An unemerged butterfly represents potential unfulfilled, lost beauty, and a wondeful gift that the world will never receive.

So when Jeanette's sappy flame finally goes out, it will be at the end of a colorful and dramatic fireworks show. Throughout this life of color, she will live, love, risk, win, and lose. She hopes that the residue of her colorful smoke will make the way fertile for others to follow their own unique and colorful dreams.