One Moment In Time

I gotta tell you- every time I hear a Whitney Houston song, I’m reminded that Whitney is really dead. And it’s so terribly tragic because she really had so much life in her. I feel so bad for Whitney because she had everything; I mean everything that most people dream of having: beauty, incredible talent, money, family. It just doesn’t get much better than that. Except for all intents and purposes, she did not seem to have self-love.

She was one of America’s sweethearts. She had a golden voice - probably the best in generations. She was a beautiful young lady. She had more money than she could spend in a lifetime. But none of that was enough to make Ms. Houston love herself. Whatever battles she was fighting, she was fighting them against herself, and sadly, she lost.

Whitney only needed to know that it was okay to be as good as she was. She needed to be able to comprehend that she wasn’t a diva because she was Whitney Houston. She was Whitney Houston because she was a DIVA – a Divine, Inspirational, Victorious and Awesome woman. Unfortunately, it is never enough to have someone that loves you tell you that you’re good. It is not enough to have large numbers of people admire you because you’re good. You are good enough when YOU BELIEVE you’re good enough! Whitney needed to have that one moment in time where no matter what anyone else thought of her, no matter what her weaknesses were or what she perceived them to be, no matter if she had one fan or one billion, she wholeheartedly loved and accepted herself.

Here’s to you Whitney!

I want one moment in time
When I'm more than I thought I could be
When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away
And the answers are all up to me
Give me one moment in time
When I'm racing with destiny
Then in that one moment of time
I will feel
I will feel eternity

Until next time. Peace- Two Fingers. One Love!

Technorati Tags: love,self-love,whitney,houston,believe,moment,time,battles,diva,good,weakess,acceptance

Let It Rain!

Today, it is pouring down raining. I mean it is throwing down outside and I am working in it. I am sopping wet! It is early in the morning and by all accounts, I should be disgusted, aggravated, and a little down. A lot of us react to rain that way. I know I used to. While I still consider a rainy day good sleeping weather, I also regard it as a beautiful day. It keeps people indoors, washes away a lot of the filth, and makes me feel like the world is working the way it’s supposed to.

The other thing about rain is that it reminds me that “Into everyone's life a little rain must fall.” For a lot of us, the same way we react to rainy days is how we react to the problems in our life. When the problems come, we get all gloomy and take it personal like how dare a problem land on our shoulders. What we really have to do is understand that sh*t happens. Some days it is our turn to get caught in the rain. It's not personal. But we are so hung up believing that life is supposed to be perfect. We can only be happy when the sun is shining and everybody loves us and there's money in our pockets and everything is going EXACTLY the way we want it to. Then and only then is all right with the world! Get over yourself...

The rain comes to make us appreciate the sun. It comes to help food and flowers grow. Sometimes it comes because we've sent a shuttle into space. In our personal lives, the rain usually comes as a direct result of a decision we made or didn't make. We decided to do something because it felt good, or to make someone else suffer, or because we didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, and now here come the consequences. Instead of dealing with them and learning from them, we blame and hide and lie and cry. But if you were big enough to do what we did, then you're big enough to pay for it. Sometimes the lessons you can learn through the storm cannot be taught any other way, the message not understandable by any other means. The rain helps us grow, and hopefully get smarter and stronger.

Let it rain! Let it rain! Let it rain!

Children Learn What They Live- updated

There is a wonderful poem that is often on placed on posters, postcards and wallet cards. A book was even written to expound on its’ virtues. It’s called “Children Learn What They Live” by By Dorothy Law Nolte, Ph.D. It begins:

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.

and ends with

If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.
If children live with friendliness, they learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

If you’ve never read it, Google it and read the entire thing. It’s pretty profound. It was written back in the 60’s and is awesome for the people living in privilege.

The only problem is, where it relates to some other real life families, it just doesn’t go deep enough. For example, the real life poem should read:

Children in Poverty Learn What They Live, too.

If children live with lawyers, they learn their rights under the law and how to defend themselves.

If children live with teachers, they learn a desire to teach others.

If children live with a doctor, they learn compassion to want to take care of others.

If children live with financial experts, they learn to earn and take care of their money.

If children live with military personnel, they learn what it is to defend one’s country.

If children live with positive adult mentors, they learn self-confidence and respect for themselves and others.

If children live with parents who are caring and compassionate, who work every day to take good care of them, but who are not making anywhere near $200,000 a year (which we keep hearing is middle class), who are raising them to be stand up citizens, they learn to be like their parents, running the rat race, living from paycheck to paycheck, trying to make ends meet.

If children live with parents who are caring and compassionate, who work every day to take good care of them, but who are not making anywhere near $200,000 a year (which we keep hearing is middle class), who are raising them to be stand up citizens, but who are surrounded by knuckleheads, they have a bigger struggle on their hands, not only to make ends meet but also to not fall prey to the peer pressure of being a knucklehead.

If children live with parents who believe in them, they learn to believe in themselves and plan for a successful future.

If children live with parents in poverty who believe in them, they learn to believe in themselves but will rarely afford the opportunity to escape poverty.

If children live with parents who don’t work, because they understood it from their mother, who understood it from her mother, who understood it from her mother, who understood it from her mother, etc.to get pregnant young to get assistance with finding your own apartment, food and a little money, they generally continue to perpetuate the cycle.

If children live with crackheads, they learn to do crack and every which way to get their hands on some money to support their habit or get a food because who knows where the next meal is coming from.

If children live with drug dealers, they learn to deal drugs, to buy a bunch of material goods with the money they get, and to always look over their shoulders.

If children live with prostitutes, they learn America’s oldest profession.

If children live with gang bangers, they learn to protect their turf by any means necessary.

If children live with family in the projects, they learn how to survive in the hell; just not outside of it.

If children live with molesters, they learn to live in constant fear, they learn to lie to cover up the molestation, and sadly, they learn to molest.

If children live with people who allow them to listen to gangster rap, they learn to disrespect women and the law and that there is loyalty in death.

I could go on because the cycle is vicious and so many families are caught up in it. It pains me how people of privilege pretend not to know the effects of being raised in abject poverty and how easy it is for them to look the other way. Then when I say something like, “This is how the system is designed,” people want to label me a conspiracy theorist, like I’m being unpatriotic for telling the truth. But I have the audacity to believe that if people knew more about the real causes of poverty and about these circumstances that perpetuate it, they might begin to gain empathy for and a real understanding of how everyone DOES NOT have the same chance to make it in America.

Inner cities are almost like third world countries right here in the grand old U S of A. And while I am certainly a firm believer in the idea that it doesn’t matter where you come from, that you don't have to become a product of your environment and can become a success; I am honest enough to recognize that it is much easier said than done. And if I want to be totally honest with myself and everyone else, I'll admit that it's also highly unlikely.

Til Next Time. Peace- Two Fingers. One Love.

 

Technorati Tags: children,learn,live,poverty,life,inner city,privilege,failure,system,conspiracy,empathy

Privacy Policy?

I am truly appalled by the things that have fallen by the wayside. Things like respect for elders, good customer service, common courtesy and not only privacy (with big brother watching) but the lack of the desire for privacy.
I am always amazed by how much of their private business people are willing to share as they walk down the street. Between cell phone conversations and FB, people have NO PROBLEM letting the world know about their relationship issues, family fights, body art & piercing (even in private places), bounced checks and foreclosures, pregnancies, abortions and sexually transmitted diseases. It appears they're all waiting to be discovered by some reality show producer who happens to be passing by or browsing. And then they say something really outrageous, so much so that you can't help but to turn and look at them like WTH? and they look at you like "mind your business!" What?!? Don't you realize you idiot that you made it my business even though I wanted nothing to do with it. Don't you know I would really have preferred not to know that you were getting your "goodness" pierced? Or that your mama slept with your man? Or that your boss made you stay late and redo the report that he messed up, and then took credit for your hard work? Sometimes, one has to look just to see what kind of idiot shares that private information with anybody in earshot. 
All day every day, we are subjected to underwear and crack (a**), tits, belly buttons, camel toe and if we're really lucky we'll see a hint of the goodies. And FYI: There's no need to share on a social network that you just came out of the bathroom and you now feel 10 pounds lighter. Our privacy policy is nonexistent. There is nothing sacred or restricted. Seemingly, our personal business is public record. It's the weirdest phenomenon. We are walking reality shows! And I think we have crossed a line and there really is no going back. Like Larry Niven said, “I do suspect that privacy was a passing fad!”
Til next time,
Peace- Two Fingers, One Love.

Technorati Tags: privacy,private,business,cell phones,reality show,personal,policy,fad

Darkness

After all I've been through, all my learning and teaching, and all my studying of the mistakes of myself and others, I find that I am still able to be shocked. Admittedly, there isn't much that surprises me; between the Bible and Dr. Seuss, I know a lot
what people are capable of (good and bad). But every now and then something slips through the cracks.

I am a black American.
It's true.
And no one else can know what that feels like except another black American.
I am happy, relatively healthy and arguably wise, but there is an ever-present dark spot on my soul. It won't go away. No matter what I do or how hard I try I can't seem to get rid of it. I suppose it matches the darkness in the fabric of America.  Whenever I think about the FACT that no matter how hard I work, how good I am, how rich I get, in these United States (and beyond-ask Oprah), I will still be black; translation- not good enough, criminal, uneducated, poor.

I write for me; to record my thoughts and opinions. I share for my people. Just in case something I say can have a positive effect on someone's attitude or actions. Folks get angry at me because I'm not a fan of Tyler Perry media, I dislike Little Wayne and Grand Theft Auto and I'm slow to forgive the likes of racists, greedy businesses and criminal politicians that rape America for profit and the NRA. We want to give everyone a pass on their bad behavior but it has to stop somewhere. Enough is enough.  As I watch a whole generation of young folks head down the drain, we have to consider the effects of all of this negativity and hatred.

So it saddens me to admit it but this spot exists in my soul. I fill it with flowers and sunlight and then I walk in a store and salespeople follow me around watching me or I drive through some towns in my properly insured, registered car and get followed by the police to the city limits. I cover it with candy canes and Hershey kisses and then I hear that there were 500 murders in Chicago last year.

I am tolerant. I teach tolerance. But I am tired. I just want a fair shake; a chance to be judged and rewarded on the merits of what I do and what I know. I want my children and your children to want more; to understand where we've been and how much further we have to go and to keep closing the gap. We all rushed excitedly to put President Obama in the White House and then we turned our collective backs on him when we realized that he couldn't wave a magic wand and make hundreds of years of oppression go away.  So I keep fighting- with education and self-awareness, hope and always love. It's not a fair fight considering what I'm up against but I don't let that deter me. I am committed to living in an America where being black is not a disadvantage.

Until next time.

Peace. Two fingers, one love.