Friday’s post had me thinking a lot about what happens when women shed their old lives and emerge changed. It reminded me of the mythological creature “The Phoenix”.
“A phoenix is a mythical bird with a colorful plumage and a tail of gold and scarlet (or purple, blue, and green according to some legends). It has a 500 to 1,000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again. The new phoenix is destined to live as long as its old self. In some stories, the new phoenix embalms the ashes of its old self in an egg made of myrrh and deposits it in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis (sun city in Greek). It is said that the bird’s cry is that of a beautiful song.”
I’ve always been fascinated by this story. Whether you believe in Greek mythology or not, it’s a story of new starts. It’s a story of something beautiful emerging from the ashes. It’s how I felt inside when my life completely changed. I rose from the inferno of chaos and strife to emerge beautiful and new. All that old “stuff” burned up.
If you’ve heard of Maya Angelou, then you know this poem. I think it’s a fitting way to end this post. It also ties into the When I see a woman post. No matter what we see or don’t see, that woman has a Phoenix inside. You never know when she will rise.
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
Rise past judgment. Rise past strife. Rise up and let the beauty of the inside shine outwardly.