from the collection, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings."
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.”
― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.”
― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
*************
Maya Angelou is one of my soul mates. No longer in this world, but her words touch me in a place not many others can.
Soul mates. an interesting concept. There are people you care for, those who are fun for awhile, good conversationalists who are good to have around, those whom you cannot stand the thought of hurting in any way. Then there are those whose words, or maybe just their presence touches you in a deep place where others have never been. those are, IMHO, the soul mates.
The verdict is still out, in my brain anyway, on whether the term refers to just one soul mate or if a person can have several of them in a lifetime; i'm leaning towards the latter. My sister, for example, is a soul mate. One of those people who can reach deep inside you and push your buttons that make you go off like a siren, you're so mad your eyes cross, so mad you could spit (and i did just that, hold on a sec..) and steam pours out your head. Those people you can fight like cats & dogs with one minute and love the next. Yes, i'd love to have someone like that in my life right now, someone i can throw lamps at one minute and hug the next...instead of just feeling disgusted apathy & disappointment. (oh btw, it's ok, i can say that, i don't have any "followers" reading this anyway... it doesn't matter..)
Back to the spitting reference... It was Christmas break and my sister and I were both home from our different colleges, for a couple weeks living in the same house again. (how my parents put up with us, i have not a clue!!) We were out in the car together, having just stalked one of our favorite thrift stores, managed to score some old ice skates to wear on the frozen lake near our parents' house. I'd also found this wonderful, big ol' super-thick, hand-knit blue wool sweater, that while dry it went almost down to my knees, and when i very occasionally decided to wash it, it would stretch out so huge i could fit 2 old Siberian grannies in it plus their whole dog sled team, and would also then reek like a herd of dirty mangy Russian long-wool sheep on a rainy day. But i loved it, as it completed my raggedy 80's look, complete with crazy-ripped jeans, oodles of Madonna-style necklace chains, bangly long earrings and high-top Converse sneakers. (weird, i know)
anywho.... (where was i?) oh yes..the spit fight.
We were on the way home, i was driving. As usual, we were fighting over the radio, whose music to play. So my sister, ever the control freak, came up with a plan, a new rule: We'd each have one button to control- she had the right hand button, the on/off and volume control, (i think it was) since she was on the right side, in the passenger seat, and i'd have the left side button, the station selector, since i was on the left side, in the driver's seat. Fair enough, right? ha! That's where things got interesting. I would flip along the station dial as i drove, listening for a few bars of my favorite dance-pop style music, or some good def Leppard, and if i found something i liked and stopped on it, but she did NOT like it, she'd turn the volume way down or off. But if i found something really dumb and boring like Dan Fogerty or something folksy like Suzanne Vega, she'd demand that i stop on it and she'd crank up the volume REAL LOUD, much to my fury as we bumped along the old road from the thrift store. This happened over and over, right when i'd start getting into the groove of a good song i landed on, zip, she'd turn it down and refuse to turn it up until i changed the station. ok, so i was seeing stars by this time, i was so mad, and was ready to fight her but i was driving of course. If i'd known some martial arts back then, i'd have back-handed her with my free fist while the other held the steering wheel..but i didn't know those things back then. So i did what any good mad girl would do to her equally seething-mad sister while i manuevered through lunch hour traffic in a busy intersection: I SPIT!!!!! Not just your little sissy-spit, like you're spitting out a bad piece of gum from the front of your mouth. oh no, this was one of your reach-back-to-the-back-of-your-throat-and-scrape-out-all-the-phlegm kind of "HAAAAWWWWWKKK-----tuk!!!" and the swirling loogey went flying into the air and- no, it was unfortunately misfired, missed its target of my sister thanks to the oncoming traffic in front of us and went SPLAT all over the inside of the windshield. MY side of the windshield, thank you very much. Now my sister of course thought this was wildly amusing, but i thought not. It's just not a good satisfying, climatic ending of a good fight to drive along, trying to see your way down the street through the dripping, oozing blob of your own spit dribbling down the windshield. I don't remember what happened next, how i wiped it up to clear my visibility, but i'm certainly hoping i found the end of my sister's scarf and swiped it into the puddle, so she could at least be reminded of our little scuffle by the smell of my spit on her scarf next time she stepped out into the frigid Wisconsin tundra.
Yet, despite our many fights, we are still soul mates. Sometimes, out of the blue, she will text me an "i'm praying for you" message, right at the very hour when i need it, when i'm feeling extremely low for some reason. Soul mates are those people who just seem to be on your wavelength, they "get" you the way no one else can.
So like i was saying at the beginning of all this...
The verdict is still out, in my brain anyway, on whether the term refers to just one soul mate or if a person can have several of them in a lifetime; i'm leaning towards the latter. My sister, for example, is a soul mate. One of those people who can reach deep inside you and push your buttons that make you go off like a siren, you're so mad your eyes cross, so mad you could spit (and i did just that, hold on a sec..) and steam pours out your head. Those people you can fight like cats & dogs with one minute and love the next. Yes, i'd love to have someone like that in my life right now, someone i can throw lamps at one minute and hug the next...instead of just feeling disgusted apathy & disappointment. (oh btw, it's ok, i can say that, i don't have any "followers" reading this anyway... it doesn't matter..)
Back to the spitting reference... It was Christmas break and my sister and I were both home from our different colleges, for a couple weeks living in the same house again. (how my parents put up with us, i have not a clue!!) We were out in the car together, having just stalked one of our favorite thrift stores, managed to score some old ice skates to wear on the frozen lake near our parents' house. I'd also found this wonderful, big ol' super-thick, hand-knit blue wool sweater, that while dry it went almost down to my knees, and when i very occasionally decided to wash it, it would stretch out so huge i could fit 2 old Siberian grannies in it plus their whole dog sled team, and would also then reek like a herd of dirty mangy Russian long-wool sheep on a rainy day. But i loved it, as it completed my raggedy 80's look, complete with crazy-ripped jeans, oodles of Madonna-style necklace chains, bangly long earrings and high-top Converse sneakers. (weird, i know)
anywho.... (where was i?) oh yes..the spit fight.
We were on the way home, i was driving. As usual, we were fighting over the radio, whose music to play. So my sister, ever the control freak, came up with a plan, a new rule: We'd each have one button to control- she had the right hand button, the on/off and volume control, (i think it was) since she was on the right side, in the passenger seat, and i'd have the left side button, the station selector, since i was on the left side, in the driver's seat. Fair enough, right? ha! That's where things got interesting. I would flip along the station dial as i drove, listening for a few bars of my favorite dance-pop style music, or some good def Leppard, and if i found something i liked and stopped on it, but she did NOT like it, she'd turn the volume way down or off. But if i found something really dumb and boring like Dan Fogerty or something folksy like Suzanne Vega, she'd demand that i stop on it and she'd crank up the volume REAL LOUD, much to my fury as we bumped along the old road from the thrift store. This happened over and over, right when i'd start getting into the groove of a good song i landed on, zip, she'd turn it down and refuse to turn it up until i changed the station. ok, so i was seeing stars by this time, i was so mad, and was ready to fight her but i was driving of course. If i'd known some martial arts back then, i'd have back-handed her with my free fist while the other held the steering wheel..but i didn't know those things back then. So i did what any good mad girl would do to her equally seething-mad sister while i manuevered through lunch hour traffic in a busy intersection: I SPIT!!!!! Not just your little sissy-spit, like you're spitting out a bad piece of gum from the front of your mouth. oh no, this was one of your reach-back-to-the-back-of-your-throat-and-scrape-out-all-the-phlegm kind of "HAAAAWWWWWKKK-----tuk!!!" and the swirling loogey went flying into the air and- no, it was unfortunately misfired, missed its target of my sister thanks to the oncoming traffic in front of us and went SPLAT all over the inside of the windshield. MY side of the windshield, thank you very much. Now my sister of course thought this was wildly amusing, but i thought not. It's just not a good satisfying, climatic ending of a good fight to drive along, trying to see your way down the street through the dripping, oozing blob of your own spit dribbling down the windshield. I don't remember what happened next, how i wiped it up to clear my visibility, but i'm certainly hoping i found the end of my sister's scarf and swiped it into the puddle, so she could at least be reminded of our little scuffle by the smell of my spit on her scarf next time she stepped out into the frigid Wisconsin tundra.
Yet, despite our many fights, we are still soul mates. Sometimes, out of the blue, she will text me an "i'm praying for you" message, right at the very hour when i need it, when i'm feeling extremely low for some reason. Soul mates are those people who just seem to be on your wavelength, they "get" you the way no one else can.
So like i was saying at the beginning of all this...
Maya Angelou, or her poetry, i should say, is one of my soul mates.
So here are a few more of her quotes that i love: (ok, actually it's more like a bunch of them, sorry, i got carried away..) ;)
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
“Anything that works against you can also work for you once you understand the Principle of Reverse.”
and more...
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
“When someone shows you who they are believe them; the first time.”
“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.
“A woman's heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.”
“Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud.”
“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.”
“Stepping onto a brand-new path is difficult, but not more difficult than remaining in a situation, which is not nurturing to the whole woman.”
“The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.”
“When you learn, teach, when you get, give.”
I could ramble on and on about any and all of the above quotes, but i'll save that for another time.
Regarding that last one, I really want to be doing that in my own life more: teaching what i learn, and giving more of what i receive. That's the kind of generosity i eventually want to be sharing. Once i get my head straightened out here first.
have a good day, and don't spit on any windshields!! ;-D
I could ramble on and on about any and all of the above quotes, but i'll save that for another time.
Regarding that last one, I really want to be doing that in my own life more: teaching what i learn, and giving more of what i receive. That's the kind of generosity i eventually want to be sharing. Once i get my head straightened out here first.
have a good day, and don't spit on any windshields!! ;-D
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