ode

Before I fell asleep last night, I watched a post from a 60+ years old, twice Miss Olympia champion (who won titles in her later years) announce a Live she was hosting just for the 92% who per usual showed up and showed out for this cycle. This before my soul was treated to an A cappella ballad from India Arie and the melody of Tibetan bowls. Calm washed over my spirit and granted me the most peaceful slumber several hours would permit before I popped back awake to dance with my nemesis, insomnia. The satisfying grin wreathing my face would mirror gratitude for my population and our unwavering stallworthiness. 

Aside from the outliers who sometimes appear to have bigger megaphones, as a monolith in spaces when it is important, we displayed the most unified front over every other demographic. That needs to be celebrated. Heavy is the head who wears the crown but you did it, Queens. And true to form beyond the empowered hatred we know to ensue, we still use our platforms and voices to take care of us. Some of us even manage to nurture others as well because it is who we will always be, and I salute you. 

I see you, and I salute you.

Eight years ago, I began to train myself in the art of protecting my energy. During such time, media outlets and their ilk became mitigated when not cut out altogether. Understanding the greater power I possessed to sift through the ability to stay informed while not falling prey to a degree of sensationalism, an art form formed indeed. Even when fellow brothers and sisters whose grief for things that don’t matter as much as they think compete for your attention.

If only for the moment, set down your armor and square your shoulders. Straighten up your backs and hold your regal heads high. The light beckons you because it is where you have always belonged. Set down your heavy burdens and with all of the might in your veins, at least for this solitary moment in time, finally and endearingly…rest. -Dr. T