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A moonlit night driving home up the valley after a playful and satiating meal with my partner with  shared laughter gifting us with bone weary creative riffs as our minds met and played. The road twisting and turning inviting a slow ride home.  I eased Van into the player and relaxed under the passing shadows moving across the valley.  Great music playing, Colorado Indica melting the pain in my shoulder and my heart feeling open and light.

Under the dancing moonlight I reflected on the day I’d spent engaging and interacting with a room full of people I’ve never been with,  a day of being authentic and vulnerable in their presence, a day of listening to their stories and their confessions that we all struggle with. Learning to see our white conditioning and our systemic privileges all us white folk share. [sidebar] barring those privileges which only properly belong to the billionaire class.  Is a life long practice.

I was moving easy with the road, no headlights behind me, nobody in a hurry to get home and not thinking of anything in particular when one of Van’s holy mediation songs came on.  A seldom heard song, a song sung with as much soul as Van has ever sang with  back in the day when he was young and we both were in our prime.  That’s when the tears came.  A feeling of being held of being fully accepted to the party – to the tribe – to life – swept through me as Van’s voice growled and the piano swells and chills run down my arms.  The epiphany hit me like a drum.

Coming out – coming out of the shadows – opening the curtains of the stage of shame has created space and in this space i no longer feel estranged from others.  Before it was as if I was separated by a thick pane of glass that muffled sounds and distorted vision, and appeared concrete, real and true.  When I let go of shame, the shape and configurations of things, changed. Where once there was a solid wall of glass, now there is an open window, and now, I hear what others feel about me and not what I fear they feel.  With the fear of course there come stories but in this new space – a space free of shame – Robert feels affirmed and accepted, Robyn feels giddy with excitement and Lil Bob feels gratitude and love.

Nice words.  We get it.  [Sidebar: I hereby thank a single melancholy whippoorwill for breaking the ground to write as a collective – trying somehow to give voice to us all].  We get it.

Don’t we?

Next up We won’t be erased by a word that cannot be said.