There's nothing like tomorrow

The day we always choose to start again There's something 'bout tomorrow That makes it all okay ~MARO

I made it a mission to mellow my long days with dulcet music.

These specific words from Maro's song eerily came at an opportune point in my downtime last night.

My course can sometimes get heavy and so can life.

Every other day, I battle with ideas of morality, ethics, and reality all at once.

Not to mention grasping which philosopher said what when and trying to remember what happened in a certain century, who came before who... sigh- you get the point.

I always wonder why solutions that easily meet the eye are difficult to be implemented.

Yet, I always get a simple answer that tames my irritable flame.

'Man has free will.'

I think of the number of times I land on this answer to the point it's just comical.

I've paced back and forth between many theories of the kind of society we should live in.

During one of my journaling spurts, I recalled a turbulent time I acknowledge as a journey to understand my femininity.

I was always intimidated by what my peers and society deemed as feminine.

It never resonated with me and most importantly, it was such a misfit with my radiant and independent personality. My parents always reminded me of the importance of staying true to myself. I did not know it then but I am grateful how these words took root within me.

I stand to reap the benefits now.

How I also thank the heavens that I took the chance to be so inquisitive, pause, and ask 'BUT WHY?' 'Who said I should and why should I?' 'Am I then less of a woman or am I reading from the wrong page?'

These questions planted doubt as much as they did curve up a new path for me.

Oh, how I felt intimidated to have not ended up underneath a man's sheets or in the dead of night with my body intoxicated. I felt cornered to fit in high-heeled shoes when my feet ached to feel the earth beneath them.

I always thought this pressure would not end. I dreaded for many days to grow shorter so I don't have to explain why I haven't followed the apparent assembly line.

My gradual reaction was to isolate myself because I felt misjudged and misunderstood.

I gained an amusing reputation and was a challenge for some to try and break.

I assume to prove something?

Maybe that is when I fell in love with the classics and old romance.

It's quiet, respectful, and open to adventures in my view.

With this, I prayed for better tomorrows.

I did not have a picture-perfect view of how this would pan out.

When advice from the world around me did not satisfy me, I buried my head in books.

I bought, researched, and read books specifically by African female authors.

My literature set books covered me with Western female authors.

I hoped to find a mirror somewhere between the lines.

I was so hopeful I would find an explanation that felt like home.

Or perhaps, see me.

See my struggles manifested through a fictional character.

I was desperate.

Days became weeks... Weeks months which turned to years of still pacing between pages.

My thoughts and reactions varied with time.

I was ever-changing and my mind was always a roughhouse; a pen to paper every minute for comfort or to quickly scribble a conclusion only to discard it.

It was toxic, it broke my spirit and I knew I had to rid myself of it.

I was confused, bitter, and angry about why I tried to go against a wave so big.

It was a lonely battle, one I applaud myself for fighting so fervently.

I drove a narrative that was not mine.

Every argument and idea around femininity was never mine. My eureka moment was with the 'men are trash' movement...

All the arguments I readily had on my lips could barely escape the bridge of my mouth. I ridiculed this and rejected it with all I was.

Everything within me challenged my prospects of conformity.

Of course, I hesitated to make this conclusion. After all, I discredited my opinions because I did not have enough 'field' experience to justify why, let alone my years of experience.

My simple conclusion lay in the kind of injustice I would do to the good men in my life.

I praise good fortune for this but my main concern was how I'd feel short-changed if someone judged me based on a handful of other people's mistakes I took no part in promoting.

Needless to say, I would blindly build walls in a society that needed bridges.

I would be playing broken telephones in a society that needed to listen to one another.

I wanted to be part of the solution.

Cormac Burke's book Man and Values- Chapter 9 on femininity cleared the fog for me.

It is the first book I read that did not impose, suggest, degrade the opposite gender, or take anything away from me.

It was informative and challenged me to think—

To reason.

I felt safe and listened to and there it was—

Right between the lines.

I did not have to compare myself to anyone or find a mirror between the lines—

I was already my mirror.

There's nothing like the promise tomorrow brings.

Tomorrow allows you to start again and pluck a new kind of courage.

It brings renewal and a chance to hope that you can get past days that seem to lurk ahead and that—

That kept me going so, hey!

Stay true to yourself.

Pitch a tent if you have to but invite yourself on a journey to understand what intricate parts of you mean away from the world.

See what you discover.

---

And because there's something about Maro, here are some beginning lines to her song something 'bout tomorrow

There's nothing like tomorrow The day we always choose to start again There's something 'bout tomorrow That makes it all okay

https://youtu.be/Q9P90eQlXMc Take a listen! :))

Nothing but cocoa love,

Sam 🌻

---

Follow MARO Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/maro.musica/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maro.mus/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/itsameeemaro TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@maro.musica