Wisdom//

Storm’s Edge…

Wisdom.

Photo: Stephane Vetter

The wisdom of child’s speak never ceases to amaze me: Step on a line and break your mother’s spine; …picked a peck of pickled peppers; …up the hill to fetch a pail — then Jill fell down and Jack…; ring around the rosie’s to reach and touch your toesies…

From these fond, evocative sayings I recall, “a line is the thinnest thing in the Universe.”

So I began to wonder about crossing lines, which has been a recurring theme of my musings for over 55 years…I first asked about the other side of crossing a line — could I cross over and come back?

As an adult, working in the entertainment industry, “Crossing Over,” was desired goal by many Black performing artists who “crossed the line” to find paying paying audiences outside of the Black communities and becoming a Pop star after being an R&B star. While many applauded this accomplishment, since the financial enumerations were huge, some asked the question of these emerging Pop stars, “do you remember where you came from…are you now too good to do a gig in the hood…how can the people who helped you get there afford to see you now?”

Of course my grandmother would ask, “are you getting too big for your own britches?

I was part of a group of conscious soul seekers who sought to cross-over, under, around and back — daring the line to hold them back and inviting others to come along by showing the way….after all, “alone at the top” and “One is the loneliest number” became mantras for some of us who perscribed to pushing and leaning on the edge of time to break down walls of repression.

I have found whether it’s the edge of a cliff, edge of time or the edge of pernicious behavior — All deserve an experiential visit, but landing and standing on solid ground to be more accommodating for the evolution of my soul.

So on these times of dusky-dawn, I feel a storm I do not fear as I know there is another side and a landing on the which side of the line is my choice…

…any mini miney, the stars are not the only shiney things in the sky as our wings reflect the light.

Originally published at medium.com

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