Notes from the Neighborhood – Theft of Services

I am reminded of a movie. I am reminded of the words by Saul Williams when he spoke out in a poem in the center of the yard in a jail scene.
He said, “Stealing us was the smartest thing they ever did. Too bad they don’t teach the truth to their kids.”
It was here that I began to think about the words I write and the meaning behind them. This is my sword.
I thought about how each letter and each syllable can have an impact on the soul. Words can mean nothing. Or, they can mean everything. . .
if we allow them to.

It was also Mr. Williams who quoted Thoreau to me, as in Henry David. It was this line that hit me, the same as it must have struck Mr. Williams for reasons of his own.

I have mentioned this quote before. However, today I am going to combine both quotes which have inspired me and for this entry, yes, I plan to be raw to the touch.
When Williams shared Thoreau’s idea that said, “What I have to do is see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrongs which I condemn,” I thought about my personal and perhaps uncivil disobedience. I thought about the thefts of myself and the crimes of my past, both as the perpetrator and the victim. Hence; I include my understanding that oftentimes, there are no victims . . . only volunteers.

My angle on this is less governmental or racial or about inequality. But at the same time, my angle on these quotes are taken from a personal standpoint.
This comes from an internal and a more personal injustice. At the same time, this comes from the moments and memories when I was either stolen or in other ways, I had given myself away, as if to say, uselessly and needlessly, and almost unnecessarily too because in fear of my personal inequality or shortcomings; I believed that I was unequal and/or less than.
So I accepted lower values and positions on lower ranks because of a disbelief that I could be anyone other than this – unequal. 
I accepted the trades and subpar treatment.
The truth is, I can’t be mad about this, at least not at you or at anyone else.
The truth is I accepted the trades which is why my anger screamed outwardly and destructively. This caused me to bleed on the people who didn’t cut me.

So, how does this translate?
What does this mean?
What does this do to us as people?
But more, what happens when we believe that we are lower or less than or flawed or imperfect?
I am sending this to you, wrapped in paper, pretty as ever, and defined by letters and syllables and words, which are intended to have an impact.
I want this to resonate and pack a punch. 
Of course, I do.

Stealing us is the smartest thing they ever did . . .
I think of the trades and the people who we’ve bartered with.
I think of the unfortunate and the codependent contracts we’ve signed.
I think of the unfavorable settlements and the times when we told ourselves to “believe” just so we could go along to get along.

I think of the mildness and meekness of our submissive states and I also think of the end result and the times when we allowed ourselves to be doormats.
If not a doormat, I think of the times when we allowed ourselves to be silent which is a theft that happened, right before our eyes.
I offer this because not only were we robbed, we allowed the thefts to become true and submissively, we surrendered our worth, our value, our heart and our time to either people, places or things that would otherwise not deserve us or worse, they would degrade or destroy our value. 

Time is too valuable . . .

I am a marked man. I say this because my skin is marked. Yes, I have decorated my body, by choice, and yet by choice; I have opened myself to both common and uncommon perceptions of others.
And of course, this has opened me up to misconceptions as well. Also, this has led me to see the misperceptions of stigma and judgment.
In order for me to be better, then i have to think better about myself. Therefore, I have to extinguish the old concepts of self.

And me?
Am I the animal some people have claimed me to be?
Am I the typical?
Am I the run of the mill?
Am I the so-called garden variety?
Or, am I more than the predictions or the perceptions of outside lives?
I like to think I am more than all of this.
Am I the view of people who live in an outside world with their outside opinions and their outside influences?

I am no longer willing to allow myself to submit to this way of thinking.
Do I have problems?
Sure.
I can list them in alphabetical order.
Pick a letter. Or we can start with Z and work our way backwards – or should I say upwards because now that I have allowed myself this long-winded yet brief introduction, I am about to move forward and go up from here.

What I have to do, at any rate, is see to it that I do not lend myself to the wrongs or the mistakes or the judgments or the influences which I condemn.
What I have to do is move forward –
This means that I cannot listen to the old voices nor can I allow myself to rehash or rehearse the old conversations that took place before now.

To move forward, I have to move forward without looking backwards because the only thing behind me is my past.

So, as for the statement about being stolen . . .
Have I ever been stolen before?
Yes, we all have.

I have been compartmentalized and categorized and kept in a box.
I have allowed myself the trade. I have submitted and surrendered needlessly and unsuccessfully to the point where I swore it would be better to be in “someone’s” company than to be in no one’s company at all.
But not anymore.
I can see there are times when I traded my truths and accepted mistruths to allow myself to be a better version to a person or a friend or a crowd or a so-called team.
I can see where I tried to shave my edges so that my square pegs could fit through the round holes.
And to what avail?
What did this do for me?
What did this do for my future and what has this done for my past?

Every time I fulfilled an unwanted or an unfavorable prediction of me or each time that I became the beast which someone else predicted, I allowed for my thefts of truth.
I allowed myself to be stolen or taken away.

I gave in. But more than this – I gave up.

I have shame and moments of embarrassment. I have this no differently than anyone else does.
I have been opening myself up and still, I can feel the twinges of shame or shameful thinking because of my old opinions of “self.”

I have wants and dreams and desires.
However, I let so many of these things go (or die) that now that my future is “on me,” I can feel the freedom at my fingertips. I can feel the wind but yet, I’m not close enough to the air to feel the breeze across my face. 

I have chosen to reclaim myself. I have chosen to remove the barriers between myself and my views of happiness.
I am no longer willing to hide or lie, nor am I willing to acquiesce or submit – simply “because” or to be “liked” or “accepted.”
Whether my truths are from a personal or emotional element; or if my tastes or desires or pleasures disturb anyone else in the world – then I am truly sorry for the disturbances. However, it has taken me 51 years to write this statement. So therefore – fuck it.
I’m not sorry

I’m not looking for the theft.
I’m not looking to be stolen.
I am looking to rid myself from the evils and the wrongs which I condemn.
I have not come here to feed the full or help those who have everything they ask for.
I’m not here for the refreshments either.
I’ve come to reclaim my throne.

I am unlike anything or anyone else in this world.
There is no one here, except for me.
Only I have what I have.
I am the only person in this world who has my specific brand and chain of DNA.
No one else can duplicate me.
Not by any means.

There may be people who are close or similar,
but no one is like me.
No one can see from my eyes or feel from my heart.
No one can count my blessings but me and equally, no one can count my sins but me either.

I have allowed myself the assumptions of poorly advised biases. In the misconception of self and after years of losing to the outgoing tides of a life beyond my control, I have no choice but to reclaim my territory. I’m here to take my life back

This is more than a topic or lesson about divorce.
This is more than a topic or a reason that touches why I can or cannot get along with people.
This is more than my yearning to “go, be or do,” and this is more than my need to love or feel loved beyond measure.

I am only new to this life and I say this at the age of 51 years.
So, how can I be new . . .
it’s pretty easy if you think about it.
We are brand new every day, which is good because we can be brand new with experience that can help us enjoy the day – or ruin it, depending upon our perspective.

It’s only one more week until I head to a place which is unknown to me.
I’ll close this journal on the morning when I reach the airport. 

But either way, no matter where I go; my truth will always be my truth.
And I suppose yours will always be yours.
However, on my account, I have to be clear –
I have never seen or heard or spoken to anyone as beautiful as you
Imperfections and all. . .

My heart is purging to remove the old pains and venoms and toxins.
My life is unfolding and yes, maybe the clock is ticking . . .
And I get that.
But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 
We can make every tick count and steal back all that was taken from us.

Trust me on this one . . .
I’ve had time stolen from me before.
so –
Step one – stop lending myself to the life which I condemn
Step two – reclaim all that’s been stolen
Step three – go, be and do

(just like we’ve always talked about)