Stained Glass Ceilings

I once sat on the floor of a hotel lobby, staring at the ceiling for half an hour.

My mother and I were on a spontaneous trip to Mexico City, and we stumbled into a place called the Gran Hotel. Despite seeing the gorgeous sights of the city all day, I was utterly unprepared for the beauty I was about to see.

As soon as you walk into the hotel, there’s a flight of marble stairs that gives way to an enormous open-air lobby. Canopying this massive lobby was the most gorgeous display of stained glass I had ever seen. Cobalt blues and sunset hues laden with monograms and floral motifs.

It was perhaps what began my obsession with stained glass.

Fast forward three years later, and my passion for stained glass has grown to a point where I've determined to try it myself. Despite not having a kiln or glassmaking studio, I've found inventive ways to pursue this dream. Making paintings that mimic the look of stained glass and shattering blue glass bottles to form my own creations.

The thing about stained glass that fascinates me most is how it changes throughout the day. At first morning's light, it can bathe an entire room in color; by midday, it glows valiantly, yet at night, it becomes opaque, almost drab.

Living in America often feels like standing beneath an enormous stained glass ceiling. Beautiful at times, suffocating and limiting at others.

We often speak of glass ceilings as the invisible barriers that prevent us from advancing higher in life; meant to be shattered. But what do you do when the ceiling is beautiful? Who would want to shatter a stained glass ceiling? Why ruin the art? And if you shatter the ceiling, are you prepared to get rained on?

All of these questions are valid, yet I tire of always needing to have the answers. How do I provide for myself and my future family? Why did I choose to move back home? When will I leave this place that feels comforting, yet confining? Where will I go next? Who will go with me? What happens if I fail?

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

My father used to say, “The more you know, the less you know.” And I've gotten to a point where I know enough to know there's so much I don't know. And likely never will. And I've decided to be okay with that. To be okay with the idea that many of my questions will remain questions. And at the same time, life will continue to go on.

Despite there being much I don't know, I do know that I have a vision for family and community that looks much different from the ones we're told are possible. I have a vision for communal family living and homes on land across the globe that allow us to travel and live with sovereignty. Raising up children in environments of curiosity and wonder instead of fear, directives, and credit scores. A network of people who help each other meet not only our mutual needs, but also the dreams and unspoken desires of our hearts.

I have many ideas for the future and only a few of the answers. I trust, though, that as I keep pressing on in life, God and my ancestors will give me all the wisdom, resources, right people, and strength of mind to accomplish all that I'm destined to. I'm on a journey, as we all are, to learn, or maybe remember, more about myself and my role in this world.

One thing I have learned is that no matter what heights I'm able to reach or who I'm able to become, if all I'll accomplish in this life is being myself, then that will have been more than enough.

Love + Sincerity, Jakada