A Prayer to Little Girls…

Gynificat

Something generally falls through the cracks – literally… figuratively… and it usually turns out to be me.  Though, despite my frequently sounding off like a whining bitch about the way the world is and the way I think it should be, it is never about me so much as it is about that which I have not been.  Then, is it wise to seek clarity in the hearts of little girls rather than those of women whose hearts have become those of men?

Dearest Flowers of Heaven and of Earth,

I take it upon myself (perhaps through your collective psychic song) to represent every grownup in the world in writing this letter to you, though most would not even admit to its necessity let alone come to agreement as to whom it is to be addressed.  This message is for little boys too, then the remainder of humanity in descending order thusward.  But it is first and foremost to the youngest and most female of the quadrant of human matter. 

So, I present myself your toy Soldier… your Knight in shining armor.  If you trust me worthy to support you in helping to create a more caring world for you and everyone to play in, then call your little girl meetings to order, give me your orders, and tell me how high I am to jump.  It is the very least I… we can do!  You seem to know upon sight who I am, and how easily you can disable the force field around my heart and toy with access to my command and control centers.  Then, you know that, regarding your happiness and wellbeing, I could never accept the very least, nor consider the almost best.

It’s not that we grownups have made such a mess of your playground, so now we have no choice but to come to you for advice on how to clean it up.  It is that we didn’t consult you in the first place that we are most sorry, for if we had done so, this mess would never have happened.  We’ve dishonored your special, vital wisdom, and we have made most violent fools of ourselves.

Thank God for little girls, and praise Heaven that the mere notion of standing before you in the guise of educational establishment makes the nucleus of every cell of me to blush.  Nor could I even be a standardized parent in this man’s world.  In your eyes alone, I see who the teacher is, and what is really worthy of being taught.  And, in your eyes alone is the knowing that you know I am a strong believer in little girl power… an eternal advocate.  You bless me into oblivion with a charm unique in nature, as subtle as a hint of hyacinth and as potent as the strongest magic spell a princess could ever imagine.  You dismantle me, remake me, and render me playtime on the Classroom floor… and I am at total peace.  Your eyes remind me most uncannily that I was born to perceive you this way, and to be fool enough to tell.  That mine eyes relish in the honor of meeting yours, how do I repay you?  That your world has become such a nightmare on my watch, how do I bare the shame?

We come to you for female guidance, because yours is most fundamental… uncorrupted by the brainwashing of current society whose crime it is to weed out as much girl power as early as possible.  What in the name of pure possibility is to be feared?  Is it that your sweet and spunky plume of persuasion might tear through the flesh like specially crafted ammo?  Though yours is the perfect power for moving mountains and nations through the processions of equinoxes, I know that there is certainly nothing to be feared by humanity but the loss of spiritual desolation.

Some of us have been taught that God is the Force who made the earth and caused her to move… and her mother before her… for some gaggle of eons by now.  That much is plausible, at best, if one is faithful to that which is taught, but what I’m certain of – without being taught – is that yours is the Force that keeps this Mother spinning (certainly in terms of being perfect reminders of the reality of love), notwithstanding global efforts to steer her off course.  Could it be that you and the original Force are one and the same?  You are to be treated that way nonetheless!

We seem to love you, that is, we seem to say that we do, perhaps out of nervous habit or refined guilt.  But we don’t listen to you with enough intent to allow our own sclerotic behaviors to change.  We seem to take your intuitive message for granted, ignore it, or fail to interpret and implement it.  We tuck you in at night with a bedtime story and a song to send you off gently into dreamland where all fairytales come true.  Our prayer to you is that you continue to be just as blessed, pure and free as divinity has crafted you to be, and that your own precious limbic lullaby will be received by humanity in full measure and devoid of distortion.  Our prayer is simply that you come to know how we really feel… that this message reaches you somehow, for it is now written on earth, and in Heaven, it is emblazoned across the billboard of eternity.

As adults, we pray that whenever we may come to a decision, however small or not, that we take a moment to run it through our own built in ‘little girl’ filter – a safety mechanism innate in ALL humans – that we may open ourselves enough to be re-taught how to use for the good of all girlkind.

Love & Kisses  Thank Heaven for Little Girls! Wooden Guitar

Holler at me!