On Turning 29, Writing the World I See, and Holding onto Light

In November of 2002, Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks set a personal goal to write a play a day for an entire year. I love goals like that; I love the goal-setters who achieve them too. So she wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. She wrote a play a day for an entire year, and it developed into a movement called “365 Plays/365 Days” that now is being performed in several cities around the United States. In a fascinating testament to creative genius and grassroots theater organizations, people are now performing the plays that she wrote on any given day, four years ago. That means that if you live in Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, Denver, D.C., L.A., Minneapolis, various Mississippi River towns, Seattle, or San Francisco, you can go this afternoon and check a play that she wrote on September 23, 2003. You gotta check this out. If you don’t live in one of these places, at least “friend” her on myspace, y’all (http://www.myspace.com/atlanta365). Fresh.

Taking a page from Parks’ book, I’m setting a personal goal for myself this year. Except instead of a play a day, I’m aiming for a commentary a week. Taking a page from Kamau’s book, my subject matter is life. And taking a page from Sister’s book, I’m going to stick to it.

Lewy told me that if I lived in China or Japan or France, I would have turned “thirty” this year, because they start counting at one the day a baby is born. That makes more sense, it seems, because then you’re one during your first year, seven during your seventh year, and twenty-nine during your twenty-ninth year. But as it stands, I suppose I’m twenty-nine during my thirtieth year and won’t be thirty till I’m actually thirty-one. Hmmmm. Maybe the folks who thought this best were down with the folks who labeled the centuries.

Whatever we call it, this birthday seemed like a big deal to me. I’m finding myself at a spot on the road just past the intersection, and I’m grateful for being here for sure. Mostly I’m thankful because it wasn’t an easy, four-way stop style intersection, or even one that I could see what lay ahead if I chose this or that direction. Instead, it was one of those crazy intersections, that seems terribly hazardous and perhaps constructed for accidents: one where the people turning left across several lanes of traffic somehow have the right of way, and those going straight are supposed to know that they have to stop. Not to mention the on/off ramp with no signage, the bicycle lane that’s too damn narrow, and the pedestrian crosswalk that’s faded from use. Yea, the intersection I came through most recently was messy and difficult, and stepping on the other side feels super fresh.

My birthday was phenomenal. The constellations of family and friends blended in such peace ways that I was reminded (and re-bodied and re-souled, I suppose) that the goddesses are here with us, pulling for us, and creating circles of strength that are meant to hold us up and push us on. I am thankful for them, and I am thankful for those they inspire. In return, I want to continue seeking ways to live consciously; finding ways to be ever-more present in my own existence.

Maisha and Marlon gave me a beautiful card for my birthday. Inside they wrote, “Live, Love, Laugh… Hold onto some of the light you shine on others.” It seems like a great suggestion for all of us. This year, I plan to do all of that.