Sometime … You Can Never Go Back Home

It has taken me a while to get these thoughts down on paper. A large part of me has been afraid to but I think this will serve as a necessary catharsis for me in this challenging life experience I am growing through as well as possible serve as a way for someone going through something similar in some respects to see themselves in this post and build and add on to it to grow as well.

Some of you may know and some may not that recently I was forcibly removed from a group I hold very dear to my heart. The reasoning and rational are not important to the writing of this. Justified or not I feel the emotions expressed here are still poignant and revealing to the human experience.

Many people in this group I called my brother and sister. I would and have risked my safety and freedom along these people. I would and have risked my life with and for these people. The word brother and sister gets thrown around somewhat lackadaisically at times in the movement but I can truly say that there were a select group of individuals that “brother” and “sister” are words that could not fully articulate the bond and respect I have for them.

Unfortunately due to this removal by the heads of the group I am no longer privileged with the tremendous opportunity to grow with these people. This has been the greatest challenge of this whole experience. Amplified by the existence of social media. Seeing their posts, their ideas, their thoughts, their faces, and understanding how distant we have become in such a short time after coming together in such a short time. It almost feels like a pin ball colliding at the speed of light with it’s target only to be sent spiraling wildly in the other direction after finally feeling something. It leaves you wanting. Like a part of you was left behind with that collision and a part of them will always be a part of you. Because for a brief moment you got as close as you could to occupying the same space at the same time. For a brief moment you were one.

Someone asked me if I think that their ability to write me off so quickly and with, what seems to be, such ease indicates that maybe we were not as close as I thought we were. That could very well be the case. But in the end I don’t know if maybe they are feeling just as betrayed by me and the circumstances that caused my “exile” (for lack of a better term).

In the Autobiography of Malcolm X he discusses his brother’s exile from the Nation. In no way am I implying that the feeling I am experiencing now are to the level of his brother’s described in the book. But I can say that I truly do have a better ability to empathize after what I have experienced. Feels like part of your identity is snatched from you. Your chosen family is gone. People you have shared every range of the human experience with. People who have inspired so much change in you that you can never go back to the way life was before them.

“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” This has quickly become one of my favorite phrases. It so perfectly encapsulates life. So simplistic yet so complex. The universe has taught me many lessons in letting go. This has proved to be another. I will forever love all the people I grew with in the group. I will forever treasure all the experiences. I can only hope that I can grow to a point of being able to do that and still let go of my urge to vindicate myself and prove removal to be unjustified. I am still so much influenced by my desire to be understood and loved. I must learn that despite your most indelible efforts to spread your genuine Godliness in this world there will still be people who are skeptical. I have seen too often how history can omit with ease the Kings and Queens of our past that did nothing short of shine their light so bright that they brought sight to the blind and blind those with short sight.

It bothers me just to type the idea that I am still greatly affected by the opinions and beliefs of the people I care about. For some reason I have this notion instilled in me that I have to be above the influence of all others. I don’t mean for this to be interpreted to mean that I am controlled or a slave to it. Those who truly know me know that I am an extremely free will who does what he feels is right regardless of the repercussions he must deal with resulting. But that is not to say that I don’t feel the weight of disapproval from those I love when they bear down on me. Maybe that is a bad thing. Maybe it is not.

I would like to end this note with love. Because the revolution, whether the revolution of the world, the country, the state, or the mind should always start and end with Love.

“Dejeme decirle, a riesgo de parecer ridiculo, que el revolucionario verdadero esta guiado por grandes sentimientos de amor” – Ernesto “Che” Guevara

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