Speak Myself

My body has a language

Og its own

And it tells me things

I’d never know

If I couldn’t speak myself

-Melissa Renzi

Fall 2003

Torrance, CA

This is an oldie but goodie. I had lived in Los Angeles almost 2 and a half years when I wrote this. I left the boyfriend that I had originally moved there for. Partly because I “spoke myself” and finally listened to the clues that it wasn’t right for me. (And such deep gratitude for that relationship as it was exactly what I needed then and was such an integral stepping stone in my whole life unfolding, moving me from NJ to LA.)

I wrote this during such a fertile chapter, where I reconnected with my Self again (I’m only capitalizing it now, I didn’t know about the different between little “s” self and capital “S” Self.) I wrote a ton, went to the library, made a million paintings. I moved into a second floor apartment that was so falling apart that I actually thought I may step too hard and fall into my downstairs neighbor’s place. (And something similar happened with the toilet, I’ll spare you the details.)

I lived above a Hispanic family. The mother had three sweet angel children, two who would come up and hang out with me (one was a newborn). Her boyfriend drove a parking lot shuttle at LAX. When I moved out we had a garage sale together where we spent more money getting Carl’s Junior than we made. I treated her to a lunch date the week I moved out and I can see her beaming face. (At one of the restaurants on Crenshaw.) It was such a treat for both of us.

It’s been so many years that I cannot remember her name or her children’s names. I can’t even remember the number of the street. (It was one of the two-hundred something number streets.) It was my first apartment alone in California. That apartment is where I taught my first ever art classes. I made it my own and I treasure those times, including writing this poem. I lived there until I moved in with a friend that I met at a poetry reading. She was getting divorced and her husband moved out so they offered me the master bedroom with a balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean for the same price I was paying with the weak floorboards. I stayed there until they sold the house. I’m hoping somewhere in my stacks of journals that I have some entries about those days. What an adventure.

Do you “Speak Yourself?” What signs does your heart, mind, body, soul give you to know what’s true or not for you? Do you listen? When you listen, you’ll get even more signs. Give it a try.