When I was a child and stayed home from school sick, my mom would supply me with Archie comic books and ginger ale to make me feel better. As I got older, I would dig through her bookshelf to find something interesting to dig into. As a result, I ended up reading a variety of things that were probably somewhat age inappropriate. Sidney Sheldon and Erica Jong probably weren't intended for a twelve year old. But then I discovered Maya Angelou.
There were a number of volumes by her sitting on that bookshelf. I remember sneaking "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings" into my room, and tearing through it in one day flat. I was astonished at the candor and bravery with which Angelou wrote. Up until then, the majority of books in my life had consisted of school-issued literature and the standard pre-teen diet of Judy Blume. And those were fantastic. This, however, was somewhat life-changing. It made me consider what it meant to truly live your life to the fullest, regardless of the hand you are dealt. She was the first female I had been exposed to who displayed the true ability to not only play the character in the movie of her own life…she wrote the script, and directed the movie, too. She was, and continues to be, incredibly inspirational to me.
Last weekend, my daughters and I were walking through Barnes and Noble, and my oldest asked me about Maya Angelou. She had learned about her poetry in school, and she asked if we could buy one of her books. Fortunately, I was able to steer her to our own bookshelf at home. I was thrilled we were about to become a third generation Angelou-loving family.
Today, I went home sick from work. These days, my mom is not here to bring me reading material and drinks when I'm unwell. But after I slept off my headache and got an awesome mid-afternoon hug from my daughter before she took off for the evening, I picked up my old favorite book. And I re-read some of those incredible words that I have revisited over and over again through the years.
And then I sat and thought about the title of this book, and it's relevance to me. Originally, it was a poem written by American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar. I believe when it was written, his intent was to share a black man's longing for freedom in a racist white society. Okay, that is not my reality - but I still appreciate the beauty of its words and its sentiment. But I translate the words to what they have always meant to me, with my own interpretation.
One of my biggest fears in life is to be caged, or trapped. I fear ever being that bird stuck in a cage. I am meant to fly free and unfettered. I need the autonomy to able to make my own decisions and explore things, and when I feel I can't, I get very agitated and sad. However, in the poem when the bird is caged, it sings. It sings to distract itself from its situation. It, in the words of my friend Don, remains exuberant in the face of a dismal situation.
This bird is free to fly, and it spreads its wings wide. And while my voice may not be fantastic, I sing. I sing loud, and I sing proud, because when things are not their brightest, I will find a way to find the positive in my situation. I will always find the song in my cage.
Fortunately, this bird flies with its own tiny flock. And I have the lock picking skills to break out of any cage I am ever put in. And I will always, always, have a song.
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