A rose unfurls

31 08 2011

In the last few weeks I’ve been growing facial hair, out of curiosity.

I was never “allowed” to do it before, either because of Mum stating that she hated beards, or my teenage inner-self feeling that somehow the act of growing a beard would be both a source of horror and deep embarrassment.

But I’ve got past it, the whiskers are growing, and not only that, there is a feeling of liberation, there’s a personal growth happening along side the hair growth.

I feel almost like I’m standing on the shore of a large lake, with a small boat which I’ve stared at for years, but never had dared to take out for a paddle.

I am frightened of change, change for me has almost always been something bad…
but now a change is coming, which I feel I’m in control of.

I’ve got into the boat and it’s taking me out into the lake, and I’m not afraid, for once, I’m not afraid… I can see the shore slipping into the distance as My boat moves across crystal clear and completely calm water into the center of the lake, which I can’t see at this point, and that’s how life is… but it’s going to be ok.

The beard is just the tip of the iceberg, there’s more going on inside, it’s calm and quiet, like I’ve figured it all out at last and have lost all reason to be nervous.

I think I once read a story about American Indian boys going out into the wilderness in their early teens, as a coming of age ceremony… and staying until they found out who they were, and then returning home with a new name.

My Dear friend Michelle would know if this is right, As the blood runs through her veins.

For such a long time I have toyed with the idea of changing My name, But I couldn’t, It felt like a disservice to my Parents, who You probably know, I love dearly, despite Death taking them from Me.

But then, This is about Me and My life, and where I find myself at this time.
And I think of the remaining years that I have to stand up and say “Yes, this is Me” and be proud of myself.

I almost lost the chance, as you know.

Up until last year I still had a Sister, who knew my Name, and Knew who gave it to me and why. She could recite the two names in the middle in Her sleep, She knew my last name, and what that meant.

But She was taken from Me by Cancer.

I don’t have much contact with family anymore, there are embers in the fireplace, but that’s about all, there’s only one who knows a smattering of my Roots and that’s My Niece.

What is left of the old Me, How many, apart from corporations requesting money for unpaid bills, know Me by that name?

Some years ago, I began calling myself Wolfie, and it worked, it was
accepted. It was only a nickname, but now it’s become a lot more than that.

Was my real name Wolfie all along?

I never spent one day in Tibet, but Ladies and Gents, I think I’ve found myself.

Now that other factor, Google Plus and their silly names policy.

People have been talking about the use of “Nyms” (the Pseudo kind), and there’s this twitch inside when I apply it to “Wolfie Rankin”, because it’s gone beyond that point.

When some say that “nyms” are nothing but worthless trolls and hoons, who make life difficult for “normal” people who have lives and jobs, and therefore are superior to anyone they wish stick the toes of their nice Italian shoes into, and they apply that
stereotype to me, then how do I feel?

I often think a twitter businessman in a clean suit and tie, is every bit as bad as that pretend sexy lady bot who pops up at times and tries to trick me into viewing a URL.

I don’t care what Google thinks, or the people who use it, But perhaps it’s the last straw.

I know I’m not a troll and you know it too… I’m Wolfie!

I want to be Myself, not what anyone else thinks I should be, and I think that time has finally come.

The boat is going further and further out into the lake.
On the seat beside me a red rose unfurls and I smell its sweet perfume.

I leave the person I was on the bank, and become myself, the one I was meant to be.
Like the Wolf inside, this is a time of Transformation, Change, and Rebirth.

Finally at long last, it’s OK to simply be Myself.

This is Me, I am Wolfie Rankin.

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5 responses

31 08 2011
Deborah

lovely blog Wolfie

31 08 2011
cordannao

You are Wolfie and you’re beautiful. Thoroughly enjoyed reading that post. It’s all right to be “me”… I found that out recently, and it does set you free.
Lots of love from Coralie.

1 09 2011
tardis42

I must second this. You are a good person, and being true to yourself is vital for lasting happiness.

1 09 2011
marysfarmreport

Bravo, Wolfie!

Well writen and very insightful. I am 71 years old and find with each year I like myself more. Actually being 71 years old I can honestly say; I adore myself. With all this self love it is easy to give love to others.

Love,
Mary

1 09 2011
Wolfie Rankin

Yes there is definitely something in age which allows a lot, when I was a teen I was so worried about this and that, a real ball and chain.

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