Illusion

I never had control over my world...all was an illusion. If I let the door open completely to my African culture, if the door were left ajar, I wouldn't be able to function in the Western world I am sure of it. I certainly wouldn't get to work on time. Something inside of me doesn't believe that I would be less effective if I got to work at 7 instead of 6:45. That my ability to think critically would be forever tragically altered if I weren't always at a trot instead of a saunter. I look better when I saunter. I am grateful for what I've gained, the balance I have achieved, but at times the balance escapes. I express the magical realism that is my otherness in my writing, personal relationships and family. Language, people, life's mysteries and rhythms are what haunts my soul. Something about facing my three greatest fears: loss of close friends, health and husband allowed me to ride on Hermes back while he soared between the gods and men, allowing me the view of the vast landscape below.It is true that many live a bit of a schizophrenic life of sorts, however middle-age reawakens. A comfortable, minimalist life style appeals to me, I have acquired more material items that I ever dreamed. The extra room to live and expand opens my personal conscious psychic space, causing the world to be the earthly festival I always knew possible.