“I don’t want to live in the kind of world where we don’t look out for each other. Not just the people that are close to us, but anybody who needs a helping hand…” Charles de Lint, Canadian writer.
Last weekend, I went to the Waverly Farmers Market here in Baltimore. Sat my keys down at a vendor’s stand (a bakery vendor of course). Walked toward my car. Stopped to fetch my keys. Couldn’t find them and couldn’t remember where I last had them. Was sitting on a curb emptying the contents of my purse when a woman named Mary saw the look of panic on my face and stopped to see if I needed help. She chose to walk with me as I backtracked through the market to each vendor I’d visited. Thankfully, I rescued my keys from the lost and found. During this adventure, Mary and I sang a Bob Marley song with the busker (I mean, it was International Reggae Day), and talked politics, tweets, NPR, and community. As we parted with hugs and air kisses, I thanked her for her kindness and promised to pass it on and show love and kindness to someone else. I’m asking all of you amazing beings of light to do the same. Be kind to someone. Offer to help. Give a compliment, or share a smile. This is how we create the world we want to see, one moment, one step, one encounter at a time.
A musical giant and one of my dearest mentors transitioned two weeks ago.
There are really no words that can describe how much Vic Glazer meant to me. I met him when he moved to Bermuda with his beautiful wife Pam Jones Glazer. I’d heard of him before I met him – past musical director for Debbie Reynolds and dozens of Vegas legends. Before long we were working together at the different venues throughout the island. He believed in my talent, and continuously challenged me to be better. When I studied music theory with him, he was a tough taskmaster. On some nights when I thought I’d given good performances, he’d accuse me of “phoning it in.” He always accused me of being and playing small, and always challenged me to be better than I thought I could be. When he thought I was ready, he went so far as to contact some of the biggest agencies in Florida to help me secure bookings in resorts and other showrooms. When I began doing the Florida dates, Vic always played for me. On some of those dates, He and Pam (and sometimes his parents) insisted that I stay with them instead of at a hotel. He offered to help me create my very first solo show. He found songs that suited both my talent, voice, and personality, and arranged them so I could show the best of what God had given me. When I was given the opportunity to open the Bermuda Jazz Festival in 1999, he agreed to be the MD and pianist. With some of the top talent in Bermuda, we made magic that night. I will never forget that for as long as I live. When he decided to record his very own CD, he asked me not only to sing on it but to pen original lyrics to the Miles Davis classic ‘So What’. My heart is heavy, but I know that I am a better musician/vocalist/entertainer because I knew him. Here is a link to a recording that we did at the Caldwell Theatre in Boca Raton. Vic wrote and arranged the charts, and played in and conducted the band – you will get a glimpse of him here – doing what he loved. A thousand thank you’s, my mentor and friend. May you finally rest in peace.
During the last few months, I’ve been teaching, traveling, performing, and writing my first book. The result? I’ve been neglecting this blog. However, it’s summer, AND the book (I’ll tell you more about it in the next installment) will be off to the press this weekend.
I had a bit of a rant a few weeks ago and wanted to share it with you. Here it goes!
I will always say that I am grateful for every day The Creator lets me take another breath, but some days, particularly the days I check my phone or turn on the news before my feet hit the floor, I lose my breath. Somedays it’s not worth my sanity to get out of bed. This country is becoming increasingly unrecognizable. I just wanna know…when did being so angry, hateful, cantankerous, confrontational, gossipy, nasty, vengeful, and violent become so vogue? This is not who we say we are!
Character assassinations have been with us since before Moses came down from the mountain with the tablet containing the 9th commandment – Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness Against Thy Neighbor. But now, verbal smackdowns are commonplace, and no longer considered a naughty little pastime. They’ve become a full-blown sport. We verbally clothesline each other – openly, daringly, calmly, then we boast about it.
The hunting of human beings has always belonged to the province of war. However, today, it’s a staple upon which our contemporary obsession with violent video games and testosterone-laden action flicks is built. These days, any Harry, Dick, and Jane with a gun can feel entitled to act as God, passing final judgment on some poor soul. And the reasons for which this judgment, condemnation, and justice is exacted? Illogical differences such as religion, ideology, politics, race, ethnicity, gender identity, and sex. Or something even simpler, and more ridiculous. Our bullets literally take someone’s last breath from them, and we try to justify the reason the life was taken, blathering on and sounding completely bereft of common sense.
We kill people all the time – with actual bullets, with words, with shame.When did this become acceptable?
We don’t seem to care.
We have supposedly evolved. I fear we are devolving. We always hear religious and political leaders talk about God being on our side, but if I were God, I’d be in the market for a new team. I think the more appropriate question is are we on God’s side? If we are God’s greatest creation, then surely we are capable of doing much better than this. When will we make the ultimate decision to honor each other as fellow travelers and seekers? Now, some may say that I’m not being realistic; that I’m being too altruistic or pollyanna-ish. Some may say that the world doesn’t work that way anymore and that I should take my ‘we are the world’ self and sensitivities elsewhere. I don’t care. Some of us have to be the balance. We all need something to feel good about to counteract this jungle of negativity before the overgrowth engulfs us.
What can you do to bring a little light to your corner of the world? What can you do to add some beauty to this day? To make this life more bearable for someone else? Can you offer a smile? Call and check up on someone? Make a donation to your favorite cause? Offer a prayer? Meditate? Volunteer? Abstain from negativity? Buy someone lunch? Each of us…we have to start somewhere…
Some days I feel as though I’m living the lyrics of the song ‘Dinosaur’, sung by the late Al Jarreau. I’ve put the link here…have a listen to this beautiful masterpiece and take a few minutes to reflect.
The foundation has been shaken, and there’s nowhere to hide.
Our country is morphing into something we’ve never seen before, and like many of you, I’ve been feeling uneasy and unsteady. Queasy even. Like how I felt every Thursday night for six months back in 1988. That was the year I worked onboard Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines. Each Thursday night we’d sail from Jamaica to a private beach in Haiti, and that part of the cruise was void of interference from any land mass. Cuba to be exact. We were at open channel and the waves had their way with the ship…and with my stomach.
But back to morphing.
Change is one of the few givens in life as guitarist/vocalist/composer George Benson so poignantly wrote (and sang):
“Everything must change, Nothing stays the same. Everyone must change Nothing stays the same…”
Change can be wonderful. It can also be ugly and uncomfortable.
We are thoroughly ensconced in some monumental changes. And if you’re like me, you’ve been wondering how we’ll manage. Get through. Survive. And the truth is I don’t know. I don’t think any of us do.
Thankfully, I have strategies to cope with monumental change, and they include radical self-care and doubling down on my spiritual practices. In this doubling down, I opened a book I’d read a few years back and rediscovered an article I printed from the internet. It’s from the Dalai Lama and it’s called Instructions for Life. It lists twenty ways to get good karma. His Holiness is quoted below:
” 1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three R’s:
– Respect for self
– Respect for others
– Responsibility for all your actions
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great relationship.
7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It is a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
19. If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
I think if each of us followed these instructions, I don’t suppose I’d be writing this article. Oh well. Humans.
Additionally, daily prayer and meditation, a walk and a stretch most days of the week, the company of good friends (and family when I can), good books, good food, a glass of wine or two, and nice warm bath round out the list of things that help me stay in peace.
And when I really need to release some anxiety and get girded for whatever battle is looming in the distance, I play my theme songs. I find myself gravitating to these at present:
Toto – One Road; Lalah Hathaway – Stronger; Alannis Morrissette – Thank You;Sting – Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot; Dianne Reeves – Testify; The Corrs – I Do What I Like.
No doubt, I’m still feeling wobbly, but I’m clear headed. I know what must be done to move our country past this great divide. We all have work to do. The work begins with me. I am choosing to be BE the love/peace/transparency/honesty/humility/strength I want to see in the world. I choose to refrain from trivializing, labeling, or minimizing those who seek to do those very same things to me. Responding to anger by adding more anger only makes more anger and cancels out whatever good intentions I may have had. I will stand in love, relentlessly work for peace, doggedly advocate for the truly disenfranchised and the vulnerable, and speak truth to power (my grandmother used to remind me that EVERYONE puts their underwear on one leg at a time) through my words and my art. And I will join with others who are doing the same. Because there’s so very much at stake.
Beyond that, all I can do is pray.
I will end by quoting President Abraham Lincoln’s “House Divided” speech, which he delivered to the Illinois Republican Convention in June of 1858.
“A house divided against itself cannot stand…I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will cease to be divided…It will become all one thing or all the other.” (http://www.abrahamlincolnonline.org/lincoln/speeches/house.htm)
For this installment, I reached back into the vault and retrieved this jewel. I’ve also included the source of inspiration for this post. I trust you will enjoy the read.
In the lyrics of the song, he mourns the loss of a wonderful relationship because he kept putting off making a commitment. The lyrics convey that he’d had the perfect relationship – his woman loved him and was willing to make whatever sacrifices for the good of the relationship. Yet, he took her for granted and assumed that while he was ‘doing himself’ she would wait for him. He never thought she might have “had other options”. He sings “I had a good thing…tomorrow, ain’t never gonna come around again. ”
The song got my attention. I YouTubed it, and replayed maybe a dozen times. It is a beautiful song – a sensuous R&B groove. Wonderfully arranged with lush strings, beautifully voiced chords played on the fender rhodes. Nice vibe throughout. Add Kenny’s evocative, mournful vocals and well, it became very personal.
I realized that I have been in both of these characters’ shoes, but most recently in the woman’s shoes. I have come to realize that in life and love, Kenny was right. Tomorrow doesn’t always come.
No matter how much you may love someone, you can’t love them into loving you. It doesn’t matter how beautiful, handsome, rich, smart, strong, funny, articulate, nice, resourceful, or spiritual you may be. It doesn’t matter how much you give, how much you sacrifice. If the other person isn’t interested or ready, there will be no tomorrow…at least not with them. The end.
So if there’s no love or we’re not happy with the love/lover or relationship, why do we wait? Why do we keep hoping that they’ll change their minds?
Ironically, sometimes it’s all about time. Sometimes it just isn’t the right time to be with that person. I’ve lived that side of the story as well. Maybe you can’t be their focus. There may be unfinished business to take care of. Unhealed wounds. Unhealthy patterns or behaviors that need mending.
Each of us has stuff to go through. To grow through. No one checks out of this life without some pain, and at one time or another, we all have to deal with that stuff. And taking someone along for the visit to your own personal hellhole is not pretty, healthy, or sexy, especially if you’re not committed to being together, or there is no understanding of a common future.
I’m not saying that miracles don’t happen, or that people don’t change their minds. There are always exceptions, but for the most part, the storyline doesn’t change.
In my humble opinion, its far better to be with oneself and in peace than in a relationship where you feel alone, lonely, neglected, and hurt.
And…sometimes life requires – demands even, that we journey solo. Make peace with that. We all come into the world by ourselves. Even twins are birthed one at a time.
The most precious thing any of us have is time. We have to stop throwing it away. The breath you are breathing right now is the only one guaranteed. The next one is not. Nor is the one after that. And on and on. And every breath that we breathe means that we are closer to our last breath anyway. So why do procrastinate when we know we need to move forward? When our time in this earth suit is finite? I asked that same question of myself.
Time isn’t like taxes. There is no possibility of a refund. We don’t ever get any time back. EVER.
Swallow that.
Reflecting back to the time I was living the lyrics of this song, I realized that I had deserved so much more than I had allowed myself to have. Once I took the focus off him and put it on me and my needs, I didn’t want him anymore. I still loved him, but I refused to allow myself to entertain notions that we had a future together. I knew I could no longer accept the scraps and crumbs from his table of plenty in hopes that one day he would love me enough to insist that I take my place at the table and eat with him. I didn’t care to wait for him to elevate me to the status of queen and eagerly provide me with my own set of keys to the castle.
I also realized I needed to work more on loving myself so I wouldn’t be so eager to deny myself just to be in a relationship with this person, or anyone like him.
Whether it’s a relationship, a job, a move, a bucket list item, or a dream, don’t defer. If you’re waiting, stop. And if you’re in a holding pattern of wait, stop. You’ve waited long enough. Get up. Get moving. Because like Kenny Latimore sang, “tomorrow, ain’t never gonna come around again.”
“The Rule of my life is to make business a pleasure and pleasure my business.”
Aaron Burr
I’ve been treading water in an ocean of melancholy for about a month now, and I’ve been on a quest to track down the source of my blues.
After some sleuthing, I discovered that it wasn’t one single thing. But it originated from one single thing – or lack of it: Pleasure.
For starters, I miss my alone time.
Since November I’ve been sharing my digs. I sincerely enjoy the companionship, and am enormously grateful for the financial relief that comes with sharing living expenses. My housemate and I have managed to navigate the small space pretty well and not get too much into each other’s way. And it’s really nice to have someone to talk to whenever I get home. Which you don’t get when you live by yourself. Unless you have a pet, but they speak a different language, and you can’t always translate without a whisperer.
Still, I miss having all that ‘with-myself’ time. I relish the memories of those not-so-distant moments of quiet so momentous that I could hear the swish of my blood pulsing through my carotids. It’s a delicious pleasure to sit in contemplation or reflection for hours and not be disturbed by footsteps or interrupted by questions.
I notice myself these days sitting in my car a lot, parked in parking lots and parked in lots in parks, and in front of my house when I can (I’ll explain in a bit), trying to press out a bit more alone time.
This is no surprise though. I knew this would be a big adjustment for me. I now realize that the word big was a big understatement.
Secondly, I am not a fan of routine and sameness. I get bored easily. Yet oddly, I’ve realized that even though my life is stupid-crazy busy, it is surprisingly routine. I haven’t rearranged the furniture in my home since I moved in nearly two-and-a-half years ago. I’ve been taking the same (quickest) routes to work each day since last September. I’m predictably 5 minutes late to just about everything. I wear my hair the same nearly every day. And hanks to my weight gain, I’ve worn the same five tops, same five pairs of pants, same two dresses and a skirt in rotation for pretty much the last five months. This despite the fact that half of my wardrobe spends its time in a storage facility half of the year.
I am routinely NOT working out.
I’m too busy to watch TV, but if I miraculously end up with an errant 30 minutes, I find I’m watching the same shows again and again. I can spit verbatim every word of every episode of every Bugs Bunny cartoon ever made. Ditto for my favorite Britcom Are You Being Served.
And no matter how hard I try to go to bed at a reasonable hour, I still fall across the bed at the crack of piss every morning. What am I doing up so late/early? What else? Working! Thankfully, I find great pleasure in the work I do, but it’s still work.
And speaking of piss, or rather, being pissed off, I have the nerve to rant if I can’t park in my usual space directly in front of my house. I don’t understand why my new neighbors are still alive. How is it they’re dodging the eye daggers I throw at them every time they park in ‘my spot’? Reason says that I don’t own the street or that spot, so I should just get over myself and just go park the damned car elsewhere. I sent Reason to play in the traffic.
I gather I’m stuck in a groove. And to quote the P-Funk master himself, George Clinton, it’s knee deep.
And here’s the big ah-ha. Most of my time is spent working, teaching, promoting, prepping, and performing. I am nearly always in ‘doing’ mode. I rarely give myself playtime, or pleasure time, or time to just – Be.
Not good.
Me fix.
I’m evicting the blues, and inviting the pleasure principle to come and stay. Gonna revisit the stuff that I once found fun and pleasurable and reintroduce it into my life. Stuff like long late night highway drives with the stereo blasting. Playing deejay in my living room and dancing until as James Brown once sang, “…your feet get dusty and your body gets rusty.” Gonna do stuff like plow through the stack of magazines that have pitched a tent at the foot of my bed. Singing some of the songs my Mama wrote for me when I was a kid. Coloring, or making craft projects, which means decoupaging anything (I’m friggin’ dangerous with glue and paper)! Impromptu clubbing to check out my favorite local musicians and artists. Long soaks in the tub. Sleeping naked between freshly washed and scented sheets. More hugs, and cuddling – with my stuffed animals, with real animals, with human animals. A nightly glass of wine. Hot yoga. A scoop of Taharka’s Jazz Man Blues (Jasmine and Blueberry) ice cream (so effin’ good it should be illegal). Talking more with my family in Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, and California.
I’m reclaiming my pleasures.
But I’ll need to recruit a few friends to help me because like nearly everyone else, knowing I need to change is one story, actually doing it is another story. I’m triumphantly ensconced in my melancholy. Which equals inertia. Which equals comfort. A sort of inverse comfort zone. But as Conversations with God author Neale Donald Walsh has written, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
What about you? What do you do for fun? How do you unwind? What brings you pleasure? Joy? How can you add a smile to your own face? What areas of your life need weeding. Or watering?
I know. It’s easier to talk about it rather than do something about it. I say we begin by doing ourselves first. Because there’s always be more to do. There will always be more to do.
Think about this though: Before you take your last breath, will you regret not working more, or not playing more?
I think of the transition of the dear soul that incarnated as Prince. I knew nothing of him other than what I’d seen and read and heard, but by the accounts of those that knew him best, and judging by the stupendous amount of art he created for himself and so many others, he lived an amazingly full life. He reveled and lived in his self-made pleasure zone. He worked, he played, he loved, he gave. Fiercely. Passionately. Generously.
And I want that for myself. To dream, work, love and play as though I’m on fire, as though there’s no tomorrow. I want pocketfuls of plentiful pleasures.
I gave my family my final instructions years ago. They are to cremate me (like Prince), scatter my ashes just off the shores of Bermuda, then throw a memorial party. And upon entrance to the party, there is to be a banner with my name and picture on it, along with the following caption: She Lived and Died with No Regrets – Only Pleasures!
I am feeling more and more disgusted and saddened by the level of hatred, vitriol, personal attacks and general unpleasantness that currently characterizes conversation in our culture. It is as though Civility (yes, I capitalized it!) has been banished to some deep, intractable wormhole.
Or maybe Civility got sucker punched one time too many and decided to abandon the madness in favor of an indefinite sabbatical on some uncharted, uninhabited fjord.
In Civility’s absence, it appears that Ugly speech reigns supreme. It especially seems that since President Obama’s residency in the Oval Office began, the lid on Ugly has not only been blown off – it’s been obliterated. Hateful, racist, xenophobic and misogynistic rants have become the norm.
If you read the comments on social media or nearly any website, you’d think that very few of us like anybody, and if you give us a minute, we could list and mock every single last one of everyone else’s faults and flaws from as far back as the womb through to the very present moment.
But it isn’t just the hateful, the racist, the xenophobic, and the misogynistic rants that have me ranting.
From the playground to the office to the home, bullying in the form of verbal abuse is a pandemic. Some kids commit suicide after being victimized by it. Adults cower from it by taking refuge in the bottle, the pipe, the fridge, or in the retail outlets. People take verbal aim at celebrities, and even children aren’t immune from adults’ verbal taunts and insults. Remember Elizabeth Lauten, communications director for Rep. Stephen Fincher (R-Tenn.)? She wrote this to the Obama girls on Facebook: “Dress like you deserve respect, not a spot at a bar.” She also wrote they should show “a little class.” 1
In the heat of a moment or height of anger, many people completely drop whatever filters they have and spew whatever they’re thinking or feeling. Some people will voice what they’re feeling to someone close, even if it’s hurtful, all in the name of ‘keeping it real’.
Still worse, it seems as though this behavior is now the norm and acceptable. Even fashionable and hip.
How and why did we get here?
Why do we demonize each other? Diminish each other? Dehumanize each other? When did it become acceptable to verbally clock somebody because you don’t like them or the way they look/walk/talk/ dress/speak/think/worship/believe/behave?
Aren’t we all made from, as Crosby, Stills, and Nash wrote in their song Woodstock “billion year-old carbon”? “Dust in the Wind” as the group Kansas sang? No matter your zip or post code, we’re all on the same planet, right? Doesn’t the sun rise and set on ALL of us? Doesn’t the moon do the same?
And what happened to the Golden Rule?
Every major religion has its version of it.
The Baha’i Faith says: “Ascribe not to any soul that which thou wouldst not have ascribed to thee, and say not that which thou doest not.”
Buddhism says: Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.” Udana-Varga 5:18
Confucianism: “What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men.” Analects 15:23
Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not to your fellow man. This is the law: all the rest is commentary.” Talmud, Shabbat 31a.
Islam: “None of you [truly] believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.” Number 13 of Imam “Al-Nawawi’s Forty Hadiths.”
Christianity: And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” Luke 6:31, King James Version. 2
Are we now better than the Creator of The Golden Rule?
I believe that words are the second most powerful tool of creation (Thought is the first). If you verbally attack someone, you can apologize until the sky cracks and falls, but words spoken can never be taken back. You may be truly sorry afterwards and claim to have never meant what you said, but once said, you can’t un-mean your words.
In other words, words materialize into a sort of karmic historical record. They never go away. They float around in the ether, materializing and growing until we magnetize them back into our lives. And when they return, we get to experience what we have created, and those creations manifest as love, fear, joy, and pain.
By abusing this powerful gift, we are creating a karmically toxic environment in which we are all negatively affected.
So let’s cut the crap. Let’s step up. Let’s bury Ugly and welcome Civility back into the fold. It’s time for us to honor the best of ourselves by honoring the greatest commandment – the commandment to Love.
Some say Love doesn’t work. I say if we believe in and practice love as much as we believe in and practice love’s opposite, it will absolutely work.
So, let’s agree. Let’s disagree. Let’s agree to disagree. Let us passionately share our ideas, thoughts, opinions and feelings without descending into condescending, juvenile, and destructive speech.
And, let’s LISTEN at least as much as we speak. Not just with our ears, but with our entire selves.
I’m not for a moment suggesting that this is an easy thing to do. I am suggesting that this is an essential thing to do.
In the end, it’s really about respect, which we all want. And we have to give it in order to get it.
When I was growing up, I was always admonished to say nothing about a person if I couldn’t think of anything nice to say about them.
I am committed to modeling that behavior. Why? Because I believe our survival depends on it. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I choose to honor my Creator by doing so. Because I believe in the transformative power of Love. Because it’s who I am.
“Your opinion of me is none of my business.” Judy Ford.
Last week I was with a friend who proceeded to tell me that I do too much. I responded with “What?”
They proceeded to list all the things I do or am involved with.
Teaching jobs. New singing job. Singing in three different bands. Head of the music ministry at your church. New blog. New project. Networking. Looking for a full-time job.
As I’m listening to my friend recount the details of my comings and goings better than Siri, my body and brain are gearing up for the mother of all battles (a la Bruce Lee and his nemesis Han in Enter the Dragon). My friend continued.
“You do too much. And when you do finally go to bed, you just fall into it, like you’re a log. To me, it’s too much.”
As I’m looking at my friend, I’m feeling my blood rising to a rolling boil. I’m thinking, “What the f**k?! Who says this? Why does my schedule matter to you? Why does it seem like you’re paying more attention to my life than to your own? What gives you the right to offer your unsolicited opinion? Did I ask you for it? Who do you think you are? What are you insinuating? That I’m not handling my business the way you think I should? And if I’m doing such a bad job, then why aren’t you helping me, you sorry-ass bench warmer? You forgotten what I’ve been through lately? You’ve forgotten what I’m trying to do? You don’t understand what I’m dealing with and what’s required of me now? What? You livin’ in my head now? And since when did you become the authority on my life? Isn’t this my life? This is my life, dammit! Shut the hell up!
Instead of screaming out each and every thought I’d been thinking, I closed my eyes and silently called out ALL the names of the Divine and the prophets I could think of…Jesus, Buddha, Lord Krishna, Jah, Baha’u’llah, Jehovah, Mother Mary, God Almighty…
Once I caught myself and was calm enough to speak and not give myself something to apologize for later, I said,
“What?!”
Their response? “I just worry about you…you do too much.”
“As compared to who?”
Stammers. Followed by an attitude-filled silence as hard as a month-old croissant, and as vast as the distance between me and that mega million dollar winning lottery ticket I keep dreaming about.
When the conversation finally resumed, it turns out that my friend was feeling left out. Of course, I reminded them of conversations I’d had on New Year’s Day, when I shared with nearly everyone I spoke to that until Spring, my focus was going be on work and generating more income, and that I’d come up for air afterwards.
Silence.
My friend had listed my every commitment perfectly. And I guess to many people it seems like I do a lot. And yes, I could sleep more. And exercise more. And play more. But I’m also in the process of rebuilding my life.
If you read my inaugural blog post, you know that I’ve accomplished just about everything I’ve ever wanted to do. But the one dream of becoming a full-time, tenured college professor has not manifested. And after seven years in academia as an itinerant, full-time temporary, adjunct, contractual faculty member, I’ve decided that it’s time to release that dream. It’s too hard on my psyche…and on my credit rating. So once again, I’m rebuilding. I’m reinventing myself and my life. (It never stops.)
Which means that I am spending more time on the work side of my life. I’m on the proverbial tightrope, working to balance current work obligations, generating future income, a new job search (which is a full-time job), doing all the things that working artists do, maintaining a household and car, and just finding time to sit and breathe! And, I’m single, which means that while I do summon the cavalry on occasion (for my car), everything falls on me.
Truth is I’ve always been ‘busy’. I’ve never been bored. I can always find something to do. And I like the variety of my everyday life. I never wanted an ordinary life. I never really wanted a 9-5. I knew I’d have to work the rest of my natural life, but I promised myself when I was seven-years-old that I’d strive to only do work that I loved. And that is a promise that for the most part, I’ve kept.
So yes, I’m busy…super busy. And I like it. And as long as I make time for self care, spiritual nourishment, and stay connected to friends and family as best I can, then the rest of what I do is nobody’s business.
I thanked my friend for the concern, and then went into my office and happily worked. Until 2:30 am.
I am unapologetically me. I like the Me I’ve been, and the Me I’m becoming. And I’m content to deal with my choices and consequences. Like Cam Newton.
So, for those of you who live to give other people unsolicited advice…Stop. To borrow the words from a sermon written by my former minister, the lovely Reverend Muriel Crawford, “Shut Up.” Even if you think someone is making an egregious mistake, if no harm is being done, say nothing.
And for those of you who have trouble divorcing yourselves from others’ opinions, of you, think of it this way. If you can’t claim them as a deduction on your tax return, why are you spending your time giving them an audience?
I’m reminded of what my grandmother, Mayme Gillespie once said. “Baby, minding Mayme’s business is a full-time job. I suggest you make minding Deletta’s yours.”
I woke up one birthday morning thrilled to partake of all the magical events that were planned in my honor. From husband and step children to best friends and work mates, I was treated to a day-long celebration worthy of a queen (I am a Leo after all!). As I lay my head on my pillow that night and the glow of the day began to fade, I realized that just by living, I had achieved a significant but dreaded milestone. I was now middle aged.
I thought more and more about this ‘age’ thing and as I realized that I had probably lived over half of my life, I sat straight up in bed. My mind began rewinding – like the film on those old microfiche machines – to the day just passed, to the last year, to the last five years and beyond. I thought about my life – the highs, the lows, the successes, the failures, the times I wanted to give up (and almost did), and those exciting, ‘want to jump out of my skin’ feelings every time another dream came true.
And then, I realized that I had done everything I ever really wanted to do.
I didn’t sleep much that night.
The next day I called one of my dear aunts looking for a little sympathy. Her response?
“Heifer, call me back when you get to be my age…then maybe you’ll really have something to talk about.” After we both stopped laughing, she reminded me of how young I still was, and how remarkable it was to have already realized all my dreams. She reminded me that I was healthy, and was surrounded by people who admired, respected, and loved me. I had created a career and life that most people only dream about. I lived in a beautiful country, in a beautiful house, and had a beautiful family. She told me that getting older was nothing to be afraid of, and that I would be on this earth as long as God had stuff for me to do. Our conversation ended with her telling me to ‘get to praying’ for guidance and planning my ‘next big thing’. She also told me to start taking better care of myself.
That was fifteen years ago.
I took my aunt’s advice and I’ve dreamed a bunch more dreams. And as those dreams have come true, more have been born. I’m literally making up my life as I go. (Thanks and Praises!)
Things have not always gone according to the plan though. Some who knew me then have said that my life is not as charmed as it used to be. I have encountered challenges that I swore I would never experience as long as I lived. Sometimes those challenges have brought me to my knees. Caused me to empty the tear ducts. Caused me to yell at God asking “What the hell are you doing?” I’ve even thrown a few massive pity parties. But I shut them down early because, well, no one comes. And nothing’s sadder than a pity party that no one comes to.
And I’m still going through stuff. I’m still working on me. Because this is a cradle to the grave joy ride, with a full complement of bumps, bruises, spills, and chills.
Besides, what’s life without some challenges? How can we find out who we are if we don’t get the opportunity to work through life? How can we possibly discover our depth, our courage, our strengths, our joys, our boundaries, our resilience, our resolve if we don’t encounter some resistance? How can we grow if everything always goes our way?
When I’ve found myself standing knee deep in some crap I don’t remember creating or asking for, I’ve learned to get quiet. I close my eyes and breathe. Meditate. And pray for clarity, or peace, or a miracle. And I pray with confidence, knowing that whatever I have requested will come. I don’t fight or resolve to hang on. Nor do I ask why things happened or are the way they are. I simply ask that whatever I need to do, be, learn, or remember be revealed, so I can get on with the business of living. This for me is the art of dreaming and manifesting those dreams.
I’ve always been encouraged to share my life’s stories with a wider audience. My friends have been advocating for a book. I decided to begin with this blog. It is my intention to encourage you…to make friends with your best friend – yourself. To speak life into your lives. To keep trying. To keep dreaming. Or to start dreaming. Again. Because you’re here. You’re still here.
