A Tale of Many Tales

Chapter 1: Breathing Process

  As an African American 18-year-old young man, I considered myself to be a lost soul, scared because I longed to know when I will be found. I have some of the best parents in the world: my mother, the wind beneath my wings and my father the man that's never scared to tell me the truth and, in all honesty, my inspiration. Much love to both of them because not only did they birth me, but they did everything in their power to help me become better. I was said to be a lost soul because I realized that if my parents weren't there to brighten the tunnel of my life for me, then I would be lost in total darkness.

  I tell a tale that holds many tales that shouldn't be told but I do anyway because of my sense of being bold. I was told when telling a tale it should be told if not at 100% then at least 95%. Push that air out yo' lungs then come through with the next sentence after you inhale," a close friend once told me. See I always favored that saying, but I used to never understand the true meaning to the breathing process.

  Many people don't know how to just breathe, when they get choked up under pressure, holding every inch of their air only making themselves weaker. I remember back then I used to be a quiet child, my voice was rare to people. My father would always tell me that it was his fault that I and my two sisters were quiet because that's how he was as a child. And I remember the day when I grew my deep voice, constantly clearing my throat because I thought there was something wrong. From that day forward my father always referred my voice as a lions roar. He never let me speak softly and gently with my voice. He would tell me to speak up and that I should be using that every time I speak. This was during the early stages of my becoming a man. But that's how I learned to speak, not to breathe. I knew that if I mastered it one day then I, indeed, will become a strong man like my father.

    I remember I talked to my father about me being nervous and he would tell me a story about a time he started lifting weights which introduced me to just breathe and it will push in the right direction. The story began with him stating that he used to go to a gym that held a basketball court, a swimming pool, a workout machine room, and a weight room. Not much of a weightlifter, my father normally did cardio on the treadmill in the workout machine room. But one day he told me that on that day he was going to try something different and said that he went into the weight room and sat on a bench for bench press. He started off with a lighter weight and every repetition he would add more. Then the moment when his path of learning to breathe began when he easily lifted a large amount of weight off the rack then lowered it to his chest then began to flex his muscles and clench his teeth in order to lift gravity weighed down by heavy barbells. Now my father was a strong man but never too strong to breathe after looking at the man who was spotting him yelling, "Push, breathe, you got it, breathe!." Astonished my father, was lifting the bar up slowly as he let go of all the air trapped in his lungs after he breathed in before he lifted the bar off the rack. My father told me that not breathing was only helping me go backward. If I don't breathe, I die meaning that if I don't breathe then living would be kind of pointless just like anything else, if you don't take it in then let it go then it would only be trapped inside of you forever, no escaping it.

    Breathe in to exhale, exhale to inhale, inhale to breathe out, and out displays your strength. Our breathing is a muscle provided by God that wanted all living beings to have a sense of strength. We just have to learn how to use it. Our breathing pattern can be considered a superpower as we're able to control it and gives us the power to keep ourselves and others alive.

Through my eyes, I thought of the breathing process, to INHALE and say:

I would hate to be trapped in the "only" slot,
In the "only" box,
As only just a man.
Skip that I'm a writer,
Flip that I'm a fighter.
Fighting a battle and a war at the same time,
I can die at any time, but I'm still alive.
But why I, manage to go on so long,
So long as I inhale air in my lungs.
But later on exhale, but reality nervous,
Thinking how I can turn this.
Feeling shy, very shy,
Like a virgin with his first kiss.

Butterflies, shut her eyes,
So he can lean in.
Face blue as sky, hella shy,
Let me breathe in.

Okay, I'm ready,
Keep it steady.
I'm breathing in now,
Open my eyes there's a crowd, let me take it in now.

Then I think of my idols,
I love him to death but I wish to grow to surpass but first inhale from my father,
Then exhale to ask my daughter,
"Was it worth it?
This rambling on,
That oh, lord, take him to church" shit.
Learning from my father's entertaining stories there's been a rebirth,
Yes sir, and these things do hurt.
When a child enters;
But a man leaves the Earth.
But when I think about it,
They both took their breath,
Child inhaled into existence,
While the man exhaled into death.
I choose to not blink an eye,
No not I.
It'll breeze right through then knock the air out of you,
Catapult you, into a cold place,
At a slow pace and walking leaving no trace.
Then no one will find you,
Because that's the air that left that was once inside of you.

Before the change, I had friends saying, "Yo, you too busy breathing in,
Just breathe out man."
Then I tell them that this is only the beginning,
We'll just wait till the end and we'll find out then.

Then end with my exhale only to then repeat the process over and over till there's no more air left to breathe.

    To my unborn children, I teach you the breathing process passed down from my father. There will be times when a deep breath will be needed. Just like with my situation, I used to hold myself back, in other words not breathe. When I was in high school, I was set on writing music. I was really great at it, dishing out two songs a day and even unprofessionally recorded them on my phone connected to an aux cord with a built-in microphone plugged into my ran down headphones. My friends enjoyed my music as I uploaded them to social platforms such as SoundCloud, YouTube, and even Instagram under the name KidMTheRapper. In fact, they thought my music was so good that they wanted me to perform. Never have I thought that I would have to perform in front of others and every time would tell me that I should perform I would usually laugh, stall them out, and change the subject. Then finally came a time when my friends' wishes became true at my school. There was a rapper/ singer competition show used to raise money for the high school football team in which I played, so it was sort of mandatory for me to participate. Did I mention how nervous I was? A lot of eyes would be locked on my appearance. I remember myself putting on an act as if I was more than ready to perform and I remember during rehearsal right before the show, I went around asking everybody if they were nervous to take my mind off my nervous feeling but everyone else seemed excited to perform. During rehearsal my audio on the microphone and my beat was working perfectly fine until I finally stood on stage in front of the crowd, after I was sitting in a chair behind the resting microphone stand behind the huge curtain patiently waiting, and before the M.C. announced, "Now next up, Kid M The Rapper!" Just as expected the crowd roared as the curtain slid open and my beat instantly turned on and I began rapping. My audio continued to cut out over and over and I couldn't hear myself which made me more nervous. I began to lose the movement in my body and froze as soon as my beat turned off. It automatically became quiet as I looked to where I saw the audio operator looking at my with 2 outstretched arms with a helpless look on his face at the rear of the auditorium where the sound booth was located. After what felt like forever, I remember one of my teammates called out, "Breathe Mark, you got it, just breath!" Instantly I started to gain confidence as I recalled the same saying within the story my father told me and I began freestyling after I began rapping a line that came to my head that I came up with after hearing my friends advice, "Breathe in to exhale, Gotta take in life so first I inhale." And I did just that. I learned that life will hit a way that's unexpected and you just gotta breathe first, take it in with a deep breath and remember to exhale to relieve issues and help me continue. Off the rip the audience threw a sea of confirming words, yelling, "Aye!" and "Okay then, get that shit!" I learned how to breathe that day as well.

    After I finished everyone was on their feet cheering, clapping me off the stage, and shouting encouraging words. I found out after the competition, the man in the sound booth messed up my audio and was telling me that I was on my own and cost me my win. But even though I lost, I feel that I still won because if I would've never finished and tried then I would've never learned to breathe.

    But I was held back on breathing because I was nervous about what others thought or might think if I messed up, a sort of fear. Fear that held me back on other things up until now.