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An Unconventional Approach to a Conventional Custom December 27, 2010

Posted by helpmeronda in On Leading an Unconventional Life.
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So, we all know that getting married is a normal custom that people from all different backgrounds and cultures participate in. From the most formal of traditional weddings, to the freakiest of the bizarre, getting married is about as conventional as it gets.

Well, I want that too, but here’s the thing. As a woman of color who has an undeniable and unwavering love of white men, I have grown completely tired and despaired of trying to find that special man in my life here in the murky midst of Forsyth County, Georgia, the South, and even the United States in general.

I know it is said that it is not our duty to find love, but rather to seek out and address the obstacles within us that prevent us from having it. That being said, as I contemplate my journey of the unconventional life I am constructing for myself, I am intrigued at the possibility that, during my travels, love will stumble over me and knock me out somewhere in Europe! That is my unconventional approach.

Rather than refer to it as “husband hunting”, I simply plan to avail myself to the possibilities that my love interest has been waiting for me over there for all this time. For some undisclosed reason, I seem to be drawn to that part of the world. Although I have never been, it is as though there is a sort of homecoming on the horizon. I feel as though I am compelled to get back to a life I already had begun to live some long time ago in another dimension. After all, I have always been an old soul. It would make perfect sense that I am being summoned by an old soul┬ámate in the streets of Paris, or the hills of Italy, or at the bridges of London.

Who is he? Well, I have a feeling I already know him, and he knows me. I can hardly wait to see him again, through these young eyes in this new vessel called Ronda.


Fear and Transition December 26, 2010

Posted by helpmeronda in On Leading an Unconventional Life.
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How do I make my life count for more than the things I amassed, the bobbles I purchased, or the jobs I’ve worked? How do I reconcile this deep desire to run wild in the streets of a far away place with the conditioned tendency to stay put and play it safe?

I am in a transitional place in my life and I feel a calling that is both invigorating and terrifying at the same time. The year 2010 was a time of rapid learning. Through heartache and reckless abandon of my proper sensibilities, I have discovered a certain self within me which, now unleashed, is about as out of control as a Southern California forest fire.

I found love, lost it, found it again, and had it walk out on me. Love returned, only to dance outside my window just out of reach, as if to summons me to follow it to a new and dangerous place. I learned that not all things are as they appear. I also learned that even when I think I have figured out what certain things are all about, even then, the light which is cast upon it, whether bright and sunny, or dark and shadowy still affects my interpretation and perception of that certain thing.

This was the year I began to respect myself and see myself completely differently – again. I am realizing that, just as things are not always as they appear, even I am not as I once thought I was. Am I really so far removed from the person I knew myself to be even only six or eight months ago? I certainly hope so. I recognize glimpses of a woman with whom I am recently becoming reacquainted. She is the person who told herself seven years ago that she did not want to be attached to things, but yet, had a desire to revel in the experiences that life had to offer.

Where has this woman been? It seems that in the midst of attaining academic and career achievements and all the material things that those accomplishments afforded, her voice was somehow drowned out by the voice of so-called reason. The voice of so-called reason told me to secure a place in the suburbs near the best school in the state, the largest house my money could buy, a German engineered car, the best clothing I could get into, the sparkliest of bobbles, the most alluring and expensive fragrances, and the most elegant furnishings and accessories my home could hold.

The voice of the woman inside would never be heard over the drone of cash registers, loud music, the sound of ice clinking in crystal glasses filled with the best spirits, the sound of the high performance engine of a highly coveted new BMW, or any of the other noise that filled my life thus far.

However, after a crushing year that started with nearly five consecutive months of unemployment, a depression so deep I nearly called it a day, and that is ending with me being hopelessly and pointlessly in love with a man who both teaches and torments me; the voice of that woman is finally being heard. Alas, she must be heard, for she has been screaming and crying in the background for years; and now the gaping hole in my life and in my heart is so big, the sound of her voice is echoing in the emptiness of it all.

Who will have the final say? As the new year approaches, a showdown is staged, like a classic spaghetti western, Clint Eastwood style. The woman with whom I am now getting reacquainted (whom I believe to be my true inner self), has her hand at her side, trigger finger engaged, looking my overindulged, fearful and materialistic self in the face, taunting me, wincing, and daring me to go ahead and make her day.

It’s a battle zone folks! As I struggle with the conventional wisdom bestowed upon me by my typical western upbringing versus that of a deeper knowing that rises to the surface, something within me is dying to get out and peel my eyelids open to reveal the possibilities that await me. If only I had the courage to step outside myself and my comfortable (yet mind numbing) existence and seek the deeper experience, the meaningful moment, I too could most likely find within me, what I have been seeking to no avail, outside of me.

I am on a journey to lead a most unconventional life, and believe with every molecule in my body, that this new experience holds the key to what I am seeking. I only need to overcome the fear that keeps me locked in this beautiful yet empty 5-bedroom house, adorned with the sparkliest accessories, which garages that German car, in the suburbs near the best schools in the state.

And so I begin…