Diligence, Perserverance, or Insanity? You Choose, Then Pray

Ok so this morning when I arrive at my carpool, one of our occasional riders (she’s occasional because she drops her child off at school each morning) is at the stoop waiting on us. When she emerges from the vehicle, she’s got a face towel covering her mouth, like she’s in pain or is spitting into it or something. She gets into the backseat of my car, eyes barely open, and gently rests her head on the head rest and closes her eyes. I ask her if she had some dental work done the day before and in a muffled groan says “uh huh”. So I’m thinking she’s had some wisdom teeth pulled or something of that nature so I inquire.

I hated to ask her because I knew it hurt her to talk but after several attempts at an explanation, I make out that she’s saying “bone.” “Bone” I say, “uh huh,” she replies. I say, “What did they do to your bone?” “Shaved it down…” The word shaved hit my eardrum and I immediately winced and contracted my face as if I could personally feel the pain she may be experiencing. “The bone in your face?” I ask mortified and wondering how they did that. I suppose they probably had to cut her gums and ….. its disturbing just to think about…

I asked her if she had any pain killers with her, and she shakes her head no, all this while still holding the face towel over her mouth. My colleagues, looking very concerned attempt to talk her out of coming to work, vowing to do her work to keep her caught up if she just wanted to go back home and rest and give it time to heal, but to no avail. “I’ll be fine once I get to work,” she holding up her hand in expression that she’ll be fine. “You don’t have to suffer through this day,” they plead but again, she stays their pleas with a raised hand.

Concerned for her health and pain control, they drive one more vehicle just in case we need to drive her home before the day is out and she remains in the vehicle with me. She removed her hand and the face towel, looks at me and asks “is my face still swollen?” And when I see how swollen it is, I realize that I would be doing her a favor by turning the Honda Civic around and giving her curbside service to her front door, valet style. Not to be funny (even though it looked funny) she looked like a chipmunk with a mouth full. I ask her if her dentist released her to come back to work today. She says “I told him I needed to come to work today,” of course in a muffled and strained voice. I just chuckle to myself, look at her and shake my head. “What on earth is going on at work that you need to be there?” “Its payroll week…” she replies, indicating to me that she’s got tons to do. I think in my head, if you’d pass into eternity this morning, it’d still be payroll week. But those are just my thoughts. I make a pact with her that if she can make it through the pain and finish most of her work by lunch, I’d take her home at lunch time, but at any junction during the morning, if she needed to leave, I’d take her home, no questions asked.

I then called another colleague, asked her to bring a face ice pack sling (you know the one you get when you get your wisdom teeth pulled) if she had one and some pain killers with her this morning as I didn’t have any.

So this is a tribute to the diligence, and dedication (and perhaps insanity) of my colleague to come to work to do her share of the load for this week’s goals.

It’s also a request for special prayer for her as she diligently works through the pain.

It’s also a reminder that sometimes, staying at home SHOULD be your only option. Take care of yourself people. Your body needs you too.

An Open Letter to Barack Obama

www.theroot.com

Alice Walker on expectations, responsibilities and a new reality that is almost more than the heart can bear.

Nov. 5, 2008

Dear Brother Obama,

You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.

I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.

I would further advise you not to take on other people's enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, "hate the sin, but love the sinner." There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people's spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.

A good model of how to "work with the enemy" internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.We are the ones we have been waiting for.

In Peace and Joy,

Alice Walker

I Woke Up Early to Stand For Them

This morning I debated whether to go to the polls before work or after work. And after thinking on it while laying in bed, I looked over to my left and there, on top of the messy comforter and between pillows was the book I read before drifting off to sleep: We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For by Alice Walker. My mind immediately envisioned the small green frame and the picture of Leah Ross within its confines. In the photo she’s wearing pearls, a single strand over a v neck wide collar blouse, matching earrings. Her hair is styled and her face is clear and although the photo is black and white, I know she had on lipstick. Her face is relaxed, almost expressionless, but not really. Maybe you can tell me what its saying when you see it. But she’s looking dead at the camera man, eyes invading the space. She’s who comes to mind as I get out of bed to dress and go on to the polls early. I went early because she would have. She and my granddad Kenneth Hudson Byrd, and my great aunt Winifred Beldon, and my great granddad Carey Nall, and my great uncle Herbert Byrd, and my great aunts Beverly and Hedda and Carolyn, and every person whose blood flows in my veins and upon whose shoulders I stand. They would have gotten up before I did, they would have made sure they were the first ones at the polling place because their bodies and souls and faith understood that today was an important day. Today was a day you wore your best because you wanted to remember what you had on that maroon trumpet skirt dress with the matching duster and the camel pumps and matching pocketbook the day you were able to vote for a qualified presidential candidate who you felt represented the best in you who also happened to be a black man. I went early because they woke up early for years, making sure breakfast was made, the house was swept, the kids dressed, to walk, ride the bus, to work the job they could get because they had something to give to the world. They would have brought breakfast for the others in line and coffee to make the wait a little more bearable and blankets and folding chairs in case someone wanted to “sit a spell” to rest their feet. I got up this morning and voted early because I represent the best in them, I encompass their dreams and as their living representative, I thought it best for me to represent them the best I knew how: by getting there early to let their voices be heard through me.

No matter the outcome of the election, know that our ancestors are watching, smiling, and cheering each of us on…

Side note: My coworker, who hasn’t voted in YEARS voted today. How’s that for change. The first change that has occurred is a change of heart for many Americans. That’s change I can support!

An Exercise in Anger Management or a Magnificent Display of Offensive Passion?

So the truth is this: when I realized the last debate was to take place on a Wednesday I grimaced. Wednesdays are hands down my “can’t do anything in the evening” days due to my local assembly meeting and dance rehearsals. And even on a rotating schedule, the lot fell on me to teach our budding youth the lesson for the evening. So there was absolutely no sneaking away a little earlier to get home to watch it. Wednesday responsibilities calling, I was concerned that I wouldn’t get to hear/see any of last night’s final debate between Senators Barack Obama and John McCain. And to my utter disdain, the radio station that carried the last debate was not covering this one and I was greeted by the sounds of baseball commentators for last night’s Philadelphia Phillies versus the Los Angeles Dodgers game. “Oh my goodness,” I thought to myself, “I can’t miss the last debate.” My need to hear the last debate as I drove in my car to try to get to a tv led me to call a friend’s house phone, ask them to prop it up to the television, and let me listen via my cell phone Bluetooth to the debate. Ingenious! I listened intently in one ear from 8:35 to 9:00 to the debate going on in NY. Boy was I thankful.

I missed hearing the 1st 30 minutes of the debate so consequently I didn’t bear witness to the sharp aggressive offensive John “Malapert” McCain (my new nickname for him) launched at the onset. When I have an opportunity, I’d like to hear it…. But you did and I know you were glued to the tv and shushed your kids to bed early so you could enjoy. Tell me what you heard, what you saw, and what you think…

Can’t wait to hear from you…

Number 1 or Number 2?

Number 1 or Number 2

I’m listening to Kanyezy this morning in honor of last night’s debate, more specifically the songs Champion and Stronger, and in a little bit I’m going to put on a little Jay Z because I want to walk with the swagger of multi millionaire around my office as I campaign to be the United Way Ambassador at my company. But at any rate, last nights debate was town hall meeting forum, a venue that McCain has wanted to visit with Obama for quiet some time now. Thankfully I was invited to a debate party last night, and watched the debate on a 72 inch screen and it was the best set up. The host bought the groceries and I made some of the food. So during the preliminary minutes leading up to the debate, we’re chit chatting about rotel dip recipes, I’m making sure the temperature is hot enough to melt the Velveeta but not burn it, chopping it up about silly subjects, all the while browning the sausage, talking about music and the like, when the invincible Tom Brokow takes center screen. He sits looking at the camera for about 15 seconds before he utters a word and then he begins…

So after the dust settled, what did you think about the debate?

The Power of Words or A Night With Ms. Sanchez

Last night, I had the distinct pleasure to hear, converse with, and be in the presence of a woman who is standing tall and upon who’s shoulders I stand. The room was beautiful. The Spencer Honors House is a much smaller space than the Alys Stephens Center and the venue was transformed into a classroom.

The first thing I remember thinking as I inched my way in from the vestibule is “dang she is short” because I saw her standing at the lectern but her shoulders and head were almost hidden by the wooden structure. We were lucky and found a wooden desk unoccupied in the “choir section” of this room and said our silently mouthed “scuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the other students who had prudently arrived early.

She reminded me of my Ma Dear (my great grandmother Flutina). Sanchez was small in stature, like Ma Dear, and covered from head to toe, like Ma Dear would probably be. She wore a multi-colored floral print dress, and oversized denim long sleeve jacket. Around her delicate neck was a long royally purple scarf that reached past her waist as it hung draped around her neck. Her dreads were pulled back underneath a green paisley scarf with purple and yellow specks.

She’s peculiar, not in a weird way, but in a way that tells you more about the story than you thought she would tell. She uses her hands to talk and I immediately thought of my friend Christina and how she would appreciate the hand gestures of this elder as a comfort of years to come. Sanchez read her poetry and prose and interrupted herself to make way for the thought that is pushing to get out of her mouth to explain what she is reading. She looks up during these interruptions, looks around the room, and she moves. She’s sharing with us the effect words have on distilled water and share’s with us pictures from the book The Hidden Messages in Water by Masaru Emoto. She opens the book to the photo she wants us to see and classically, like my second grade teacher did at story time, walk around the entire room with the book high in the air opened to the photo of crystals that the words “thank you” produced in water.
She talked about peace and water and words. She talked about how the movement of sound affects water. A study was done that used distilled water and a camera and words and exhibited a profound discovery. Words, thoughts, and music have an effect on the water molecules. I looked up Mr. Emoto’s work and found this to explain it:

“From Mr. Emoto's work we are provided with factual evidence, that human vibrational energy, thoughts, words, ideas and music, affect the molecular structure of water, the very same water that comprises over seventy percent of a mature human body and covers the same amount of our planet. Water is the very source of all life on this planet, the quality and integrity are vitally important to all forms of life. The body is very much like a sponge and is composed of trillions of chambers called cells that hold liquid. The quality of our life is directly connected to the quality of our water.”

Mr. Emoto and colleagues decided to see how thoughts and words affected the formation of untreated, distilled, water crystals, using words typed onto paper by a word processor and taped on glass bottles overnight. The same procedure was performed using the names of deceased persons. The waters were then frozen and photographed:


After showing us the pictures, she talked about the importance of words and how they can be used to give life or how they can be used to pronounce death. I immediately thought of the scripture in Proverbs 18:21 that says “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.”
It also made me consider the verse in Proverbs 23:7 “For as a man thinks in his heart, so is he….” We all know that a negative thought life doesn’t yield a positive life result. For me, this information scientifically shows the biological effects thoughts have on a person and could explain why a man becomes his thoughts. The molecular structure of his body reacts to his thoughts and creates it. WOW!
She talked about teaching ourselves to “step away to have another day” because of the escalation in violence, especially highlighting violence on college campuses. She said the act of speaking words has the power to change souls. She said that words help us survive and be. They help us make it through.
She is inviting, and warm and human. And funny. She is so humorous. I had to resist the urge to burst out laughing on many occasions last night and just giggled to myself. She challenged us to go one week without “twist or curl your tongue to say negative things against others” and to reject negative words coming towards you. Substitute the words for something good. She said after 1 week, your urine will be very strong (I know, I know) because your body pushes the toxins out of your body. You will be at peace and you will draw peaceful people into your environment.
She talked about booing at a rap concert when the “B” word came out of his mouth, saying “Booooo, your momma”, a delightful humorous moment much like many others during her lecture last night. She said she met a famous Cuban poet and he hugged her so tight that she couldn’t breathe and thought to herself, “lord I didn’t come to Cuba to die” and held her head back and looked into his eyes and thought “I should learn how to lean into his breath and we can breath as one.” Since we all breath the same air anyway, why not try to. Breathing as one, acting in unity with one another, so we can all live.
Use your words to create something nice, beautiful, and to give life to yourself and others. So in her honor, I challenge you to go one week without “twisting or curling your tongue to say negative things against others.” And say “Boooo, your momma..” when negative words come your way!

My Own Space

Its a Monday. The beginning of the week (or at least the beginning of our typical American work week). And how fitting that I finally find my "space" to stretch and expand my tendency to write something that others might be interested in reading on the day most people dread. But alas, this Monday may not be so drab after all and perhaps you will begin to look forward to Mondays from here on out. Or maybe you won't.

This is my new space to write whatever I'd like to write and allow you to comment and reply without the repercussion of 50 back and forth emails in your personal inbox. This is my attempt to communicate with you in space that's all ours.

So after much prodding and poking and suggesting, I've finally made my place on the Web. I hope my place is condusive to your conversation, ideas, comments and that you feel at home here, much like me (except don't be going through my refridgerator) and that we have long, full, fun, serious, controversial, uplifting, challenging, and real conversations here.

Welcome to my space.