I want to redefine Innocence.
Does it matter where one comes from? If I were to ask a friend about his early days in Africa, and he told me about the slaughter of his family, his days as a child soldier and all the horrible atrocities, could I then say "this man has lost his innocence?" Is the love of a woman who has never slept with another man more valuable than one who has slept with many men, maybe even some women? Is someone who never got lost, never felt down, never indulged in some self-destructive act more valuable than I?
I say no, not necessarily.
How I hold my head in the morning is innocence. It is the bright optimism gleaming from the faces of the youth as they stare up at us wondering what the world will hold. It is the moment of optimism in a sea of despair.
When I awoke this morning, I knew I had again captured a piece of my innocence. I wanted to believe in myself again and scour the world for all the hope and imagination I could rustle up. I didn't draw this from another, but rather from my imagination as I dreamt. For when my eyelids fell, someone came to me with all the optimism and character of an innocent. She inspired me again to care, to be myself, to listen to the world and try to see the goodness in it all. Yet not all was as it seemed. As we became closer in the dream, she told me she had secrets which she could never tell me. Deep secrets that would ruin our time. Even so, I pressed her to tell me. I said I needed to know. (My fear of secrets and silly lies even rears ugly in my dreams.) She told me that she had been with many people before me. She told me she used to be a stripper. She wept uncontrollably. Was all lost now? Could I be inspired to be innocent by one who was clearly not so? NO! She was innocent! She believed in the optimism to smile, to believe, to be her best and no matter what past pushed her down, she had the inspiration and courage to find her true self again. AND at least to me, THAT is the real quality of life. When we have gone down such a path and feel steam building in our heart to break free and be just a moment in our true forms again ... When we have had enough ... When we peer out again knowing what damage the ravages of love has caused before ... When we stop believing the naysayers ... When we stop accepting the table scraps from those who say we should accept things for the way they are ... When it is in your heart and you feel that push for freedom ...