It took a visit to three worlds over two days before I remembered the profound statement a very intelligent woman recently told me. I continue to forget the lesson from that statement time and time again, only to remember it, then forget it again. I pass it along to you readers in case you happen to currently be in similar circumstances-yet you won’t know until you read on, right?

I walked on the wet streets of Aurora Saturday evening making my way down to Colfax for some autentico Latino cuisine. This summer night’s rain fell on me with a different feel than last night’s light shower. Friday night’s rain felt more as if I were being spit on -this Saturday rain was consoling, comforting.

Friday night I was downtown alone (last minute circumstances unintended by anyone) and my senses led me to my favorite watering hole, The Shag Lounge. A retro Googie design bar with some great jazzy rap mixes, the Shag was a great place to numb my personal demons by watching other people out for a Friday night. Folks there tend to be a mixture of those who go out someplace and record the happening on phones, text with their best friend in the presence of others, order cheap PBR tallboys to stretch the dollars out all night. I was putting down Tennessee whiskey and beer and just listened over the conversations going on. What I discovered there was some folks were having a good time, some were not. This was one world I recognized.

Well into the wee hours of Friday and early morning Saturday I got back to my place and immersed myself into the heart of my computer to work on projects and make the rounds through various social media sites. That hypnotizing slip into a dimension of forums and chat rooms, instant messaging and Skype calls. What I discovered there was some folks were having a good time, some were not. This was the second world I recognized.

Then Saturday came along and after sleeping off drinks and herb ingested at the Shag Lounge, still holding some feeling of alienation ( my planned Friday night comradery punked out for me) I felt I needed nourishment…some hardcore chorizo and frijoles, voodoo medicine for the soul. I threw on my hoodie and plodded through light rain once again but as I said, this rain felt more comforting. I wasn’t sure why but a softness came over me as I walked through the lower rent neighborhoods, Lutheran Latino familias, Muslim East Akrikan women with their children gathered playing in the dirt lots, entire buildings of people who speak no English. What I saw walking through those neighborhoods was some folks were having a good time, some were not. This was the third world I recognized.

For some reason at the point when I made it onto Colfax and was ready to enter the restaurante, the statement from that beautiful, smart woman hit me: “we’re all just looking to be loved’. I was pleasantly dumbfounded at the simplicity and fullness of that statement. I have no idea how many times over my life I’ve heard it but something always tries to push it out of my head, leaving me with an empty feeling. We all just want to be loved.

I let that message stay inside me and carried it Sunday when I attended the Denver Black Arts Festival. The festival was filled with great food and music, crafts and other distractions and at the end of the park, just outside the fenced program area, a crowd had gathered to hear speeches being given from noted members of the community expressing their feelings about the recent George Zimmerman court case decision. The speeches didn’t simply focus on the anger people were feeling over the verdict, it also carried messages out to the community saying if we want to have a better society, we need to take time to become better examples of people for others to learn from. Become a better person, do the right thing, because….we’re all just looking to be loved.


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