Strangely, I am siting in bed on Sunday morning...relaxing at 9:48 am watching some infomercial hack on KCET and feeling oddly normal. My days usually consist of waking up straight out of bed at 7 am, frantically trying to work in a run, preparing food for the day, tackling small chores and then heading to a dance studio in Hacienda Heights by 10am where I train till midnight-never fully enjoying daylight. This is my schedule everyday with a few variations and exceptions on locations and dance partners.
But today, I realize I have gotten to the end of my rope and need to recharge, reflect.
So I'm at home this July 4th, and not a huge fan of the bullshit 99 cent store paper plates, banners, and other decorative patriotic nonsense of Abraham Lincoln in costume character tipping a beer in one hand and giving me a thumbs up with the other.
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against patriotism or being proud of your country (in its minimalist, non-bastardized, appropriate setting of course). Recently, I had a friend visit South Vietnam and I couldn't begin to tell you the graphic stories of unjust, unorganized governments and rampant poverty.
I'm grateful. I'm grateful for where I am in life, where I am privileged to live, grateful that I get to choose my path, what I want to do, that I am free to go as I please, answer to no one but myself.
It has occurred to me that this idea of independence is much more personal than sipping cocktails on paper doilies and napkins decorated with the American flag as you sit at your Uncle Ned's house eating barbecue, listening to him tell you -in grotesque detail- the same old story about how he survived a wart on his neck the size of his fist.
Independence, on a personal level, is making choices my mother, grandmother, and close female family members didn't- couldn't. It's getting up out of bed in a way my comatose cousin never will. It's the freedom we have at the expense of the endless amount of blood we will never fully interpret, for reasons and intentions we will never truly know. It's being fully aware of the power in my ability to choose my religion, my relationships, my dreams and follow through on them.
Life has its limitations- government, finances, incessant paperwork, frustration over waiting in lines, health care, unexplained tragedies and so on which are road blocks in any person's journey.
To be honest, my dance partner and I had a falling out with one of our coaches and I am afraid to say that part of my motivation for staying home was to avoid the mental fatigue that comes with confrontation. So do I really have a free day, or an escape?
Am I really choosing dance, or choosing a way out of my problems...yet another escape. And am I really free to dance or am I chained to the studio in hopes of earning my three glorified minutes on the dance floor?
Independence, like most things in life is a perception. My heartbeat counts down my days and I am not so free...but this idea that I can create beautiful conceptions into reality makes me feel without sounding like a cheesy hallmark, like my life has purpose, a purpose I create and therefore I suppose, a declaration of my independence.
Special tribute to the men and women of the U.S. armed forces who are serving around the world or have given their lives in the line of duty.
Happy 4th.
