in the midst of metamorphosis

At the beginning of this year(2010), I heard someone speak about the Golden Buddha encased in plaster (google it if you don't know the story). This post details my struggle to rid myself of my own plaster encasing in order to be the me that I was always intended to be.   Year after year. Layer upon layer. It continues to build up. More, more, more. Outsiders contribute some, with their demands, expectations, thoughtless words, rejection. More, more, more. I can't help but add to it myself, in a hopeless attempt to preserve the vulnerable core. More, more, more. The plaster shell is rock hard. It has to be. How else will I protect myself? Inside, I hide, unsure if the real me even wants to venture out. What is waiting for me? The unknown can be frightening, intimidating. If I stay here, I have a chance at protection, at anonymity. But, locked inside, I am growing weaker, emaciated. I want to kick out, break loose, take off these bindings, tear down the wall...

*In 1967, the year that interracial marriage was legalized everywhere in the United States, 72% of Americans were opposed to it, and 48% felt that it should be prosecuted as a criminal act. *In 1991, the percentage of people opposed to interracial marriage (finally) became the minority. ................................................................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................................................................... Growing up multiracial in this white part of the world was difficult, to say the least. My parents married only one year after it was legal for them to do so. My dad is white, of German and Swiss descent, and my mom is black, with a heritage that has traced our roots back to Africa, and also includes Native American and white. I was born into an era where the majority of peo...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor my grandparents, both my blood ones and my love ones. All of my grandparents have departed from this life for the next one.. This is my way of remembering, honoring, and loving them. This first one is dedicated to my grandma F - my dad's mom. ************************************************************************************ I remember .....the candy tins. They were full of butter mints, jujyfruits, orange slices, licorice, butterscotches, gum drops, jelly beans, circus peanuts, tootsie rolls, good & plenty, candy corn, root beer barrels, caramel creams, and so many more. They sat in the same room, in the same place. There were at least six of them, maybe more, and they always held something different, something delicious. After greeting grandma, it was the next place we headed. I don't recall eating a lot of candy at home, but at grandma's, it was allowed, even encouraged. She had diabetes, so I don't think that...