It is important that I say this.
It is important that we not remain prisoners of the past.
It is important that we acknowledge change.
It is important that we allow anything to become something else, and not hold it to whatever it was.
“Change” systems are the way; once something has changed, we must allow that thing to exist in a form of system is only a temporary stop; I do not want to think that is a final, instead, only an emerging form. What would we really be if we could not change? Think of how you may have been at birth; I would assume that you have changed in some way, and isn’t that the idea, to not remain as you were, and to not continue to be judged as that?
What is it that does not have a past not meant to threaten us like ghosts we are unable to escape?
Do you really think I would want to be what I was?
I happen to like evolving, even from my parents; only my mother remains alive, and she wants me to be “saved” from , I hope, hating myself as much as she hates herself.
If you really know me then you also know I am not my mother, though she would prefer that I was. Although she would prefer me to be someone I am not.
My mother insists on dying as she is, unable to change. There is withering I can do about that, as I do not intend to die her death. I will die my own, and unlike her, I have bio idea what will follow that event.
She is convinced,
however, that I am going to hell; I cannot change her belief system, nor do I think I should, but I can say this, that after interacting with my father for so many years, my mother did not change as she could have.
(half of his father seen below, and half of me)
my paternal grandfather
(Native American, Indian (from India), and Caucasian)
She is becoming increasingly evangelical, and has dementia that is taking the mother I once knew so far away from me.
And I accept this. Even though my own mother, 87 years old right now is unable to accept me.
And please understand that I am okay with this, I just want to live my life, and of course, I will make mistakes some fo the time, maybe even all of the time, but I will not imprison anyone in their past as my mother rimprisons herself.
I allow that all things may change, and in fact I want them to.
Go ahead and change. Go ahead and become. Go ahead and take the risk, or do you really feel that you have achieved an ultimate form of yourself?
I do not, and at 63, I continue to plod forward, ideally emerging as something better by the end of this life.
My thanks to any of you who have contributed in any way to evolution systems of Thylias Moss.
A few selfies of me, all grown up at 63:
The last time I saw her hair. She hates it, and hates herself. Completely missed the back power movement. All that prejudice in the south of her birth, Alabama and Tennesssee, called the little black one and fully believed every denigration, even denigrated herself, wanted her child, me to have the hair she always wanted, and I do, never relaxed. no chemical treatment, except she wanted my hair for herself.
THAT Length she craves.