“El Santo le quiere dar Claridad….Claridad, Claridad….El Santo le quiere dar…”
The drums beat strongly behind me. From a device that embodies many of the technological advances that have come to exist as social norms for the western world, traditional rhythms are recited and my body responds with instinct. My fingers dance over the keyboard hitting each letter in sync with the count made by Grupo Afrocuba de Matanzas’ track after track.
For a moment I close my eyes and it is in this moment that I can truly see. I accept that the trials and tribulations of my temporal existence must first hit up against the physical structure that is known as my body. Supporting this structure is my soul. Warmed by the fire of Shango (Kabieosile) and employed by the divination of Orunmila, I take a moment to feel my essence flow and ignite sensations in every nerve of my spine. My attention is called by the flickering of the flame that I have recently lit in honor of he who 21 years ago made the transition from embracing me physically to embracing me spiritually; My father.
No longer are the tears that flow down my face only serving as messengers of pain. Now they serve as reminders of the fact that I need only look at my reflection to see him. The world promised to up the ante and he vowed to support me in ways that would never fail. As is the case with every growing pain, going from the ability to physically hug my father externally to the place where these embraces could only take place internally created a paralyzing pain. It has not been until recent years where I realized the times I thought my legs could not hold me anymore, were the times my legs were being reconstructed so they could me as well as others.
We walk on the shoulders of all who came before us and our steps are cushioned by love and guidance. To allow our stride to be anything less than proud, grateful, and progressive is to cause pain on those we love and who love us.
Gracias papa… te quiero, te agradezco, te siento.
Luz, Amor, y Àşę.
©Dr William Q Ross 2017