When I started this blog a few months back, I thought I would stay far away from all things politic. But, as is the frequent case in my Life, I was telling the set-up for a joke and just didn't realize it.
So, what's a barely awake black woman to do when, at 5:30 am, she's confronted with Mayor Ray Nagin, telling all who would listen that God (not Redd Foxx or Groucho Marx, but God) spoke to him and told him that New Orleans was meant to be a chocolate city and that the hurricanes represented The Divine's displeasure with the US?
What to do indeed! Well, write about it of course - no other realistic choice. (And don't forget that earlier this month Pat Robertson knew that Israeli Prime Minister Sharon was being struck by God for keeping the holy land divided)
I had to write about the insanity that seems to creep up on each of us. True, it leaks boldly from the mouths of the prominent and the outrageously famous (Tom Cruise's pronouncements about post partum depression and anti-depressants); while we think we are holding it together and feel free to guffaw at their expense. We think we see the world through a real and rational lens, but all along our view is distorted and we're the only ones who don't know it. The joke's on us.
Remember when many among us thought that it made sense to invade Iraq (I wasn't in this group, but so many seemingly rational people were)? Decisions were made out of fear and a need to feel safe, when we felt anything but. So, we decided to strike first, and if what the experts say is true, we are less safe now than we were before we rolled in. So many lives lost and broken.
Now, please don't get your patriotic feathers ruffled. We're all in this boat together. Because we all succumb to fear and stress. Some of us may fall harder and with more people watching, but none of us is immune.
I can remember when the sight of a past boss could make me want to commit violence (and I've taught peaceful conflict resolution for years). I just, with a little unconscious trick of my mind, turned all her shortcomings into monumental failings. I managed to see her as the key to my losses, the reason for my stress, the symbol of everything that brought me discomfort. You see, in the end, we've all had the desire to strike out, to end the wrongs that we think are being done or prevent the horrors that we think might be done to us. I am not much different than my fellow US inhabitants who called for the invasion of Iraq. (Some might argue degree, but it's a slippery slope, my friend)
We try to find a reason for our distress and without fail we point our fingers outward. It's always someone else's (person, family, company, country) fault. They are always the problem. But, how do you tell the difference between them and us? At the heart of things, or even in the DNA of things, there isn't much difference between us. The difference is primarily in our heads, a matter of perception.
We're all swimming in the insanity of this world we have created. Some of us feed on it greedily, while most of us are numbly unaware of its affect on our lives and our thoughts.
As for me, I'm vigilantly trying to figure out when I'm acting out of my insanity (or the insanity around me) and make myself breathe a little slower, act with peaceful, powerful and creative intention, judge those I see caught up in it with a light heart while lending an ear and a hand. I have a t-shirt that sums it up:
Humankind - be both.
I guess when all is said and done, what could be better at 5:30 am than a little chocolate and a big laugh?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Love, Strippers and Reflection
My friend and neighbor had her 52 birthday celebration on Friday. A gaggle of us girls (about 15 women aged 23 - 52) celebrated at a wonderful Cajun restaurant here in Atlanta and then came back to my house for drinks, cake and a male stripper. The stripper was the idea of my friend's daughter, who organized the whole celebration and did a really great job.
Now, when I was in my twenties, whenever a friend got engaged or had a big birthday (25 or 30) a group of us would take them to a club that featured male strippers and free drinks, and we made sure to bring lots of dollar bills. The first time I went I did so because it was a birthday celebration for a workmate that I liked alot. I was however, morally and intellectually opposed to what I saw as the complete objectification and degradation of the men who would be stripping. I hated the idea of women stripping and felt equally opposed to it for men.
Because going to strip clubs was primarily a male activity in those days, I thought I would be immune to whatever reaction they experienced. Imagine my surprise when, after two drinks, I was waving my dollar bill and hollering with the most enthusiastic of the crowd "Take it off, baby!" (You gotta laugh at yourself or you're doomed to a Life of regret.) It was my first real awareness of the how basic and primal human Life really is. We are all subject to the power of the crowd, which is emotional, but also operates on other levels, as well. From the pheromones we emit causing a biochemical reaction to the co-mingling of the electrmagnetic fields that surround each of us, we impact one another. I realized that being female (and thoughtful) does not exclude you from the human expereince. Not to mention the fact that I enjoyed the feelings of freedom and arousal quite a bit.
When the first glimpses of the horrible mistreatment and degradation of the prisoners at the Abu Ghraib detention facility were shown, a number of people I knew were surprised that women were involved. I wasn't. I remembered the club experiences I had way back when (though I suspect the miltary personnel were driven by feelings of control, power and rage) and I knew women were not immune to that kind of behavior.
Fast forward to 2006 and here I am, in my home, hosting a stripping experience. I found myself in a very different place this time around. It maybe that I'm 49 and my hormone levels have receded (although that didn't seem to be effecting the rest of the over 45 crowd), but while I completely appreciated the physical beauty of the gentleman who put on the show, I found myself an observer of the experience and not a participant. As I watched the excitement of the other women and the very erotic (though legally covered) body of the dancer, I realized I was not engaged and I found myself wondering why.
Up until a couple of months ago, I had been celibate for 8 years. (The end of that period may be the topic of a later blog) My celibacy started out as an intentional journey. After a particularily disappointing relationship I realized that I was not very good at selecting mates. I have this open-hearted way of approaching the world and when I was feeling good about someone I tended to focus only on what was good about them without seeing all the other shades, colors, signs and giant road markers. So, I thought it was best to take some time and figure out those things that were a mystery to me about my process of realtionship. I also felt that I didn't want to set an insane example for my daughter (who was 3 years old) of what realtionships were about.
However, I did not plan to be alone for 8 years. Somewhere around year two I decided I had figured some things out and was now ready to step into the world of dating. My travel schedule, single Mom responsibilities and commitment to taking things slow made dating an every-now-and-then activity. Many of the men I met were not really available (single, but not interested in a relationship) or, we just didn't match; though I have made a couple of friends/acquaintances over these years.
I did begin to understand that my desire and need for sex was completely separate from my desire and need for a Loving relationship. I had always linked the two in the past, which I think is why I made a number of poor choices along the way. I also became clear about the fact that what I desire is a realtionship where those two elements are definitely present; sexual desire expressed within the context of Love.
So, here I am, in my living room with an admittedly handsome, Michelangelo's David-like, half-naked man putting on a show and I realize this is soooo far from the kind of sexual expression in which I have an interest. I wasn't so much against what was happening as completely out of step with it. It was an odd feeling because the primal human reaction was still present, I just chose not to go with it. Once I made that choice I found I was fully present but not participating.
A few of the other ladies asked me if I was okay, thinking my lack of participation signaled that something was wrong. I assured them I was fine, that I just wasn't into it and that they should have fun. Once they realized I wasn't judging them I think they all relaxed and had a good time. I know the Birthday Girl did!
As for me, I'm hoping 2006 is the year I begin to create that intimate relationship I desire, while I stick to my resolution to see people for who they really are (see January 2, "Eyes Open, Walking On) and relate to them honestly and with care about what I see and what I want.
Whatever your realtionship status and desires I wish you much Love and fulfillment in this year too!
Now, when I was in my twenties, whenever a friend got engaged or had a big birthday (25 or 30) a group of us would take them to a club that featured male strippers and free drinks, and we made sure to bring lots of dollar bills. The first time I went I did so because it was a birthday celebration for a workmate that I liked alot. I was however, morally and intellectually opposed to what I saw as the complete objectification and degradation of the men who would be stripping. I hated the idea of women stripping and felt equally opposed to it for men.
Because going to strip clubs was primarily a male activity in those days, I thought I would be immune to whatever reaction they experienced. Imagine my surprise when, after two drinks, I was waving my dollar bill and hollering with the most enthusiastic of the crowd "Take it off, baby!" (You gotta laugh at yourself or you're doomed to a Life of regret.) It was my first real awareness of the how basic and primal human Life really is. We are all subject to the power of the crowd, which is emotional, but also operates on other levels, as well. From the pheromones we emit causing a biochemical reaction to the co-mingling of the electrmagnetic fields that surround each of us, we impact one another. I realized that being female (and thoughtful) does not exclude you from the human expereince. Not to mention the fact that I enjoyed the feelings of freedom and arousal quite a bit.
When the first glimpses of the horrible mistreatment and degradation of the prisoners at the Abu Ghraib detention facility were shown, a number of people I knew were surprised that women were involved. I wasn't. I remembered the club experiences I had way back when (though I suspect the miltary personnel were driven by feelings of control, power and rage) and I knew women were not immune to that kind of behavior.
Fast forward to 2006 and here I am, in my home, hosting a stripping experience. I found myself in a very different place this time around. It maybe that I'm 49 and my hormone levels have receded (although that didn't seem to be effecting the rest of the over 45 crowd), but while I completely appreciated the physical beauty of the gentleman who put on the show, I found myself an observer of the experience and not a participant. As I watched the excitement of the other women and the very erotic (though legally covered) body of the dancer, I realized I was not engaged and I found myself wondering why.
Up until a couple of months ago, I had been celibate for 8 years. (The end of that period may be the topic of a later blog) My celibacy started out as an intentional journey. After a particularily disappointing relationship I realized that I was not very good at selecting mates. I have this open-hearted way of approaching the world and when I was feeling good about someone I tended to focus only on what was good about them without seeing all the other shades, colors, signs and giant road markers. So, I thought it was best to take some time and figure out those things that were a mystery to me about my process of realtionship. I also felt that I didn't want to set an insane example for my daughter (who was 3 years old) of what realtionships were about.
However, I did not plan to be alone for 8 years. Somewhere around year two I decided I had figured some things out and was now ready to step into the world of dating. My travel schedule, single Mom responsibilities and commitment to taking things slow made dating an every-now-and-then activity. Many of the men I met were not really available (single, but not interested in a relationship) or, we just didn't match; though I have made a couple of friends/acquaintances over these years.
I did begin to understand that my desire and need for sex was completely separate from my desire and need for a Loving relationship. I had always linked the two in the past, which I think is why I made a number of poor choices along the way. I also became clear about the fact that what I desire is a realtionship where those two elements are definitely present; sexual desire expressed within the context of Love.
So, here I am, in my living room with an admittedly handsome, Michelangelo's David-like, half-naked man putting on a show and I realize this is soooo far from the kind of sexual expression in which I have an interest. I wasn't so much against what was happening as completely out of step with it. It was an odd feeling because the primal human reaction was still present, I just chose not to go with it. Once I made that choice I found I was fully present but not participating.
A few of the other ladies asked me if I was okay, thinking my lack of participation signaled that something was wrong. I assured them I was fine, that I just wasn't into it and that they should have fun. Once they realized I wasn't judging them I think they all relaxed and had a good time. I know the Birthday Girl did!
As for me, I'm hoping 2006 is the year I begin to create that intimate relationship I desire, while I stick to my resolution to see people for who they really are (see January 2, "Eyes Open, Walking On) and relate to them honestly and with care about what I see and what I want.
Whatever your realtionship status and desires I wish you much Love and fulfillment in this year too!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Musings and Ramblings...Why I Love Sudoku
Yes, I admit to being in an addictive love affair with sudoku. I tried to stop, telling myself "Not today, girl. It takes up too much of your time. Gotta work on that project you have due in two weeks". But, I couldn't stay away. I looked longingly upon my cherished puzzle book. It's pages dog-earred and smudged, holding bits of eraser sheddings in their binding.
I couldn't ignore it and opened to my latest puzzle. I spent a precious 40 minutes working through it. Time I needed to spend on other tasks. But, it's been like this everyday since receiving that spellbinding puzzle book in November. "Why, oh why can't I stop?"
I'm not entirely sure, but I do have some thoughts. There's the deep and individual part of this that Doc made me think about on his blog. But, I'll save that for another day. All the reasons why I stop myself from creating what I desire will take a little more therapy and way more space than this one blog can handle. So, back to sudoku.
Here are the reasons for my love of the game:
1. Order - in this seemingly chaotic world (yes I know the Universe is orderly and what we percieve as the chaos and randomness of nature is the system functioning perfectly) it is nice to only have to focus on the numbers 1 through 9 and figure out where they go. I don't have to solve the seemingly unsolveable puzzle of how to afford the education my daughter deserves and desires. I just have to put the numbers 1 - 9 in the right order on a 9 x9 grid.
2. Predictability - It is guaranteed that I can get to the answer if I go one step at a time. I know going into to it that every puzzle is solveable. This is so unlike my Life which I have been unable to sort out for lo' these many years. Not that I have that much to complain about, I just can't predict that happy ending at the far side of the rainbow. That I still desire it may show an incredible lack of maturity on my part, but hey, I am who I am. Like I said, I can predict a happy (at least a satisfied) ending with each sudoku puzzle.
3. Logic and Reason - I live, for the most part in a world of emotion. I think, more than most folk I come in contact with, that I have a keen awareness of emotions (mine and theirs). It probably has to do with growing up in a household of functioning alcoholic parents who could scare the crap out of me with their rages against one another. That they Loved me (and I them) is one of the things I know for sure, but baby, they messed up my head too. Still trying to unwind it all. So, sudoku brings me to a space where only my logic and reason can help me. Guessing, intuiting, feeling my way through it can lead to mistakes/errors which may require that I start again. Sudoku is where my analytical side can shine and be appreciated (by me) all on its own.
4. Clarity - I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that there is one right answer. Not your answer or my answer. Not I Love you, but not in that way; or I Love you, but I'm not ready for a relationship; or I'm not sure how I feel, I mean, I think I Love you. None of that bullsh**. Not shades of grey or the lesser of 50 evils, but ONE RIGHT ANSWER! I say thank ya!
So, there you have it. The reasons why I sudoku everyday. What do you do to counter balance the craziness in your world?
I couldn't ignore it and opened to my latest puzzle. I spent a precious 40 minutes working through it. Time I needed to spend on other tasks. But, it's been like this everyday since receiving that spellbinding puzzle book in November. "Why, oh why can't I stop?"
I'm not entirely sure, but I do have some thoughts. There's the deep and individual part of this that Doc made me think about on his blog. But, I'll save that for another day. All the reasons why I stop myself from creating what I desire will take a little more therapy and way more space than this one blog can handle. So, back to sudoku.
Here are the reasons for my love of the game:
1. Order - in this seemingly chaotic world (yes I know the Universe is orderly and what we percieve as the chaos and randomness of nature is the system functioning perfectly) it is nice to only have to focus on the numbers 1 through 9 and figure out where they go. I don't have to solve the seemingly unsolveable puzzle of how to afford the education my daughter deserves and desires. I just have to put the numbers 1 - 9 in the right order on a 9 x9 grid.
2. Predictability - It is guaranteed that I can get to the answer if I go one step at a time. I know going into to it that every puzzle is solveable. This is so unlike my Life which I have been unable to sort out for lo' these many years. Not that I have that much to complain about, I just can't predict that happy ending at the far side of the rainbow. That I still desire it may show an incredible lack of maturity on my part, but hey, I am who I am. Like I said, I can predict a happy (at least a satisfied) ending with each sudoku puzzle.
3. Logic and Reason - I live, for the most part in a world of emotion. I think, more than most folk I come in contact with, that I have a keen awareness of emotions (mine and theirs). It probably has to do with growing up in a household of functioning alcoholic parents who could scare the crap out of me with their rages against one another. That they Loved me (and I them) is one of the things I know for sure, but baby, they messed up my head too. Still trying to unwind it all. So, sudoku brings me to a space where only my logic and reason can help me. Guessing, intuiting, feeling my way through it can lead to mistakes/errors which may require that I start again. Sudoku is where my analytical side can shine and be appreciated (by me) all on its own.
4. Clarity - I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that there is one right answer. Not your answer or my answer. Not I Love you, but not in that way; or I Love you, but I'm not ready for a relationship; or I'm not sure how I feel, I mean, I think I Love you. None of that bullsh**. Not shades of grey or the lesser of 50 evils, but ONE RIGHT ANSWER! I say thank ya!
So, there you have it. The reasons why I sudoku everyday. What do you do to counter balance the craziness in your world?
Friday, January 06, 2006
Meet Me In Heaven
Anyone remember the Clapton song "Tears in Heaven"? I'm not sure what planet I've been living on, but I was only recently introduced to it, though I understand it is a classic.
This morning I'm wondering how we would be different if we met in heaven. Would the 'things' that seem so important to us, that tell us so much about one another - our homes, cars, spouses, the way we look - be important then? Would we be so quick to decide who is worthy and who is not, and what yardstick would we use to measure worthiness?
Many, many moons ago I went to one of the top high schools in the US, located in New York City, where I grew up. It was a public school that required you to test into it. I tested and was accepted. The year before, to ensure an unprecedented level of fairness, the school system allotted a certain number of spaces for children who missed gaining entrance by a small margin and who were members of a 'minority'group' (basically black or hispanic). These children went to a summer school program and recieved remediation that prepared them for the rigorous curriculum of the school. This probably sounds standard to most folk now, but in the 1970's (I told you it was many, many moons ago) it was a novel and controversial concept.
Interestingly enough, during my tenure there I was asked at one time or another by teachers, counselors and almost every other adult in the building about the summer school program. A program I knew nothing about, but being black, it was assumed I attended. Those high school days were my initiation into a world where I would be seen, but not fully seen. My story written by others based upon a physical attribute that I possessed and their perception (often automatic and without conscious thought) of people with that attribute. After the 2nd or 3rd time it happened I started to ask 'what makes you think I was in the summer school program?' That question usually made the adult I was speaking to angry and my Life a little harder, but it did give me a sense of satisfaction to ask it.
Now that I've Lived/survived on the planet for a while, I recognize the many ways we do this to one another. We are all subject to making generalizations and making assumptions about one another that can hinder our relationships. We do it all the time. I remember when I first moved to the south I carried all the stereotypes about southerners with me. One day, lost as I usually am when I move to a new city, I was attempting to merge into another lane that would gain me access to the highway. The vehicle to my right was a pick-up truck driven by a white male with a white male passenger. They were in their 40's, longish hair and the driver was wearing overalls. My instant thought, as I hit my turn signal, was "they'll never let me in". Because, in my mind, they were racist southerners. They looked just like the ones I had seen on tv during the civil rights era.
Need I say that the driver waved me in front of them and I went on my merry way? You see, the truth of that encounter was that I made up a story about those men in that truck, a story for which I had no evidence except the way they looked. I attributed to them a particular attitude and set of beliefs based upon my own history, the history of my people and the history of the country within which I was born. Then, I assumed that they would behave in a certain way because of those attributes. The real truth is that I knew nothing about those men and they behaved with a small kindness toward me. That is really all I can say with any certainty.
How many times a day do we ascribe motives, beliefs, values to others without any evidence or knowledge of what's really going on with them? I think it's more often than we'd probably be comfortable with, if we look at ourselves honestly. And we do it because we are human and we try to make sense of our world. It's not a "bad" habit. In fact, with all the information that comes flying at us every second, we'd be lost and confused if we didn't engage in this automatic way. But, given that almost all of us want to be seen and loved for who we are, as completely as possible, we need to be more conscious of this behavior in our interactions with one another. We need to ask ourselves when judging someone else 'what do I really know is true about this situation and / or this person, and what have I made up, based upon my own beliefs/history/experience?' Then explore the gap.
We've all been unfairly judged, juried and hung by someone at sometime. Let's create less and less of that going forward. Let's imagine we're meeting in heaven. I'll see you there.
This morning I'm wondering how we would be different if we met in heaven. Would the 'things' that seem so important to us, that tell us so much about one another - our homes, cars, spouses, the way we look - be important then? Would we be so quick to decide who is worthy and who is not, and what yardstick would we use to measure worthiness?
Many, many moons ago I went to one of the top high schools in the US, located in New York City, where I grew up. It was a public school that required you to test into it. I tested and was accepted. The year before, to ensure an unprecedented level of fairness, the school system allotted a certain number of spaces for children who missed gaining entrance by a small margin and who were members of a 'minority'group' (basically black or hispanic). These children went to a summer school program and recieved remediation that prepared them for the rigorous curriculum of the school. This probably sounds standard to most folk now, but in the 1970's (I told you it was many, many moons ago) it was a novel and controversial concept.
Interestingly enough, during my tenure there I was asked at one time or another by teachers, counselors and almost every other adult in the building about the summer school program. A program I knew nothing about, but being black, it was assumed I attended. Those high school days were my initiation into a world where I would be seen, but not fully seen. My story written by others based upon a physical attribute that I possessed and their perception (often automatic and without conscious thought) of people with that attribute. After the 2nd or 3rd time it happened I started to ask 'what makes you think I was in the summer school program?' That question usually made the adult I was speaking to angry and my Life a little harder, but it did give me a sense of satisfaction to ask it.
Now that I've Lived/survived on the planet for a while, I recognize the many ways we do this to one another. We are all subject to making generalizations and making assumptions about one another that can hinder our relationships. We do it all the time. I remember when I first moved to the south I carried all the stereotypes about southerners with me. One day, lost as I usually am when I move to a new city, I was attempting to merge into another lane that would gain me access to the highway. The vehicle to my right was a pick-up truck driven by a white male with a white male passenger. They were in their 40's, longish hair and the driver was wearing overalls. My instant thought, as I hit my turn signal, was "they'll never let me in". Because, in my mind, they were racist southerners. They looked just like the ones I had seen on tv during the civil rights era.
Need I say that the driver waved me in front of them and I went on my merry way? You see, the truth of that encounter was that I made up a story about those men in that truck, a story for which I had no evidence except the way they looked. I attributed to them a particular attitude and set of beliefs based upon my own history, the history of my people and the history of the country within which I was born. Then, I assumed that they would behave in a certain way because of those attributes. The real truth is that I knew nothing about those men and they behaved with a small kindness toward me. That is really all I can say with any certainty.
How many times a day do we ascribe motives, beliefs, values to others without any evidence or knowledge of what's really going on with them? I think it's more often than we'd probably be comfortable with, if we look at ourselves honestly. And we do it because we are human and we try to make sense of our world. It's not a "bad" habit. In fact, with all the information that comes flying at us every second, we'd be lost and confused if we didn't engage in this automatic way. But, given that almost all of us want to be seen and loved for who we are, as completely as possible, we need to be more conscious of this behavior in our interactions with one another. We need to ask ourselves when judging someone else 'what do I really know is true about this situation and / or this person, and what have I made up, based upon my own beliefs/history/experience?' Then explore the gap.
We've all been unfairly judged, juried and hung by someone at sometime. Let's create less and less of that going forward. Let's imagine we're meeting in heaven. I'll see you there.
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