Royalty wore this kind of belt in Africa. A yet. And, in its beauty and because I see its beauty, I am as beautiful as the belt and the man who wore it himself.
There is the chain, a connective belt, linking us -- right here and now, even through the haze of our convenient lives and graphic bombardment -- to the vast ways people knew and celebrated life. It is not them, there. And us. It is us, a singular us across all time and place.
Not that much has changed really. A baby is still held to the breast. The ocean -- any ocean-- is still a calming thing to sit beside. Soup is served in tureens. We will draw and paint our own faces until our faces draw pale. This is the way of the world. Birth, love, searching, dancing, dignifying, feeding, worshipping, singing, ornamenting, creating.
Yes, an African king wore this yet, thousands of miles and hundreds of years ago. And yet, the yet is mine. The yet is yours. Because we are him and he is us because we all know the blue bead. We all pick up the half shell. We all have run our hands across the smooth skin of leather. We all know triangle, we all see diamond. We all have felt red. We have all seen a cowry shell and marveled at its shape, its shine and the little teeth it has. Not that much has changed. Not that much will ever change. And that is not meant to depress and make our time here insignificant. That is meant to make us -- make me -- realize that we are part of the long belt of magnificence on this planet. God. What a blessing.
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