Category — “Buzz”

The best way to stop feeling sorry for oneself is to consider the plight of another. When the brightness of your self-pity is deflected from the mirror of your mind and you illuminate the path of someone else, you can stop squinting and open your eyes widely. Your light is no longer blinding.

But one of the most difficult things for a person to do is to turn attention away from themselves and devote it wholeheartedly to another when they themselves are confused or in pain. Being selfless is usually an act that requires a conscious decision, particularly if the other person is our equal or close to it.

We may sympathize with or be empathetic about someone’s pain. We may internalize or choose to ignore their suffering, but our reaction is based on how it will or does affect us. Regarding another becomes a personal matter of considering our own wellbeing first before promoting the caring focus toward the other person. We may eventually decide to put their need(s) before our own, but only after some thought as to what it will cost us.

It is not that we should dwell on our shortcomings as human beings, because we more often than not recognize our need to survive first and foremost, and usually make our determinations out of concern for our limitations. Therefore, in our interactions, it is normal to be well aware that we are not created to “be all things to all people.”

When you read the paper or watch the news and there’s a tragic story, what is your reaction? Do you first consider the persons involved, or do you think, “I’m glad that’s not me?” And if you are grateful that it’s not you, do you then move on as if what you’ve just read or seen was the problem of someone else and just a story that does not concern you? Have we become so jaded to mayhem and tragedy that images of men, women and children being blown to bits, starved, tortured, or mistreated in anyway have no affect or garner any reaction? Has the viewing of horror movies, video games and special effects removed or blanketed our sensitivity to human suffering?

People seem to have become so used to tragedy until and unless it touches us personally or is a national disaster do we even flinch. Local stories of murders, robberies, abductions, gang wars, domestic violence, family breakups, school and office shootings, child abuse, rapes, drownings, bombings, and all the many other painful experiences our neighbors, friends and even loved ones are having are shrugged off as, “That’s their problem. I’m glad that’s not me.”

But when does it become our problem? How close does it have to get to be seen as something which affects us no matter how distant the situation is from our personal experience? Should we consider ourselves lucky or blessed because this time we are not the ones bearing the burden or suffering the pain? How are we supposed to act or respond?

That is a tough question to consider, especially with the almost instantaneous news flashes from around the world. We live in a global community now, so our neighbor can be anyone from anywhere, and how can we feel for everyone who is going through some tremendous experience? We can’t. If you feel guilty for sometimes thinking, “I’m glad that’s not me,” don’t worry. That’s a normal reaction, and the problem is probably one which is beyond your control. The first law of nature, it is said, is survival, and survival is more than making sure the essentials of food, clothing and shelter are available. There is also survival of the mind, heart and spirit.

We are not responsible for all the things which happen to our neighbors, unless we are aware of the situation and ignore our duty to assist or we are complacent in our reaction to their plight. But standing by and watching when a word, a helping hand or some other gesture of humanity one to the other can be offered is to me a dereliction of our responsibility, and could make all the difference in the world. In any case, if it is not your turn to suffer heartbreak and heartache, the next time it could be and someone could be saying of you, “I’m glad that’s not me.” So consider how you would feel, because “what goes around comes around,” and “there but for the grace of God, go I (you).”

When Arnold Schwarzenegger, Governor of California, threatens to reduce state workers’ salaries to minimum wage, there is a great cry of alarm from many sectors. According to an article written by Jon Ortiz, reporter for the Sacramento Bee, “doctors and lawyers would get no pay…and (the workers who) don’t get overtime would receive a flat $455 per week.” The order to reduce pay would be voided once the state budget is approved, with back pay rewarded and pay levels returned to normal.

Considering this situation by having been a state and federal civil servant during my working years, I can relate as there was a time or two when I was a victim of the same budget-related procedure. Now, as a retiree who is living on the fixed income of Social Security and Supplemental Security Income or SSI, I can again relate to a reduction in income because for the last two years we in my current financial position have felt the pinch of reduced income and no cost of living increases. But I say to the California state workers and all those up in arms about a reduction to $455 a week, try living on less than $900 a month, which is what most of us receive.

I believe that nothing happens by accident and there are no coincidences. Everything in life is being played out as it should, and in every special situation there is a lesson involved. The lesson for state workers may be to feel for a brief period, brought on by political in-determination, what those whose welfare they are in charge of is feeling all the time, due primarily to no fault of their own.

The Bee article spoke of workers having exhausted their savings or not having a nest egg to fall back on and how having to stretch their $455 for a week will be hard for some. But existing on $900 for a month leaves nothing for savings or a nest egg and is hard for everyone on SSI. Our incomes force us to live only in specific areas because of the need for low-income or subsidized housing, and some cut corners or take advantage of whatever extra funds are available, even if that means doing something immoral or other than legal.

Our low-income diets are less than healthy because we usually shop in self-service warehouse-type markets; variety stores where everything is a dollar or less; or the corner grocer that sells mainly junk and liquor. The other option is cheap fast food with all its sodium, fat and unhealthy ingredients. The majority of us have preexisting conditions which are make worse by a poor diet leading to additional health issues.

Because we are usually dependent on the state’s health provisions or MediCal in California, the quality of care is less than adequate even when compared to prison inmates, especially the dental, mental and vision needs.

For state workers, the budget will be signed soon and salaries will return to normal, and workers will be able to continue their comfortable lifestyles. This will not occur for us on the lowest level of state or federal funding. Many of us receiving SSI have worked, paid taxes and lived productive lives prior to our serious physical and mental challenges forced us to seek the only financial solution available. But there will be no restoration of the reduction in our income which has been taken due to budget cuts.

The lives of low-income people who work for minimum wage and SSI recipients will continue as a struggle from day-to-day. I hope that those whose help we depend on to finalize the processes they are in charge of will remember how it was during the time of wage reduction and speed things along. Our well-being and lives depend on it.

Recently I watched the movie, Diary of a Tired Black Man, which was written, produced, and directed by Tim Alexander. In the movie it seemed that every reason for the black woman being angry was given. There were numerous statements by both men and women of various ages and statuses giving their opinions as to the causes of the “Angry Black Woman Syndrome.” Some of them made sense, but some were just guys and gals venting.

For example, the majority of both sexes thought it was the lack of a father figure in the home or in the young girl’s life that was the cause. For without a male’s expression of love, the girl would grow up to seek love in all the wrong places and didn’t know what to expect from a man. Therefore, when her relationship went sour, she became angry.

Another source of a black woman’s anger was purported to be listening too much to other female relatives or girl friends. Women were portrayed as sitting around being brainwashed about the limitations and downfall of men, and sharing in the anger of their peers. According to the men, male bashing was a primary pastime among women, and some of the women agreed that they traveled in “groups” to keep men at bay.

Other reasons included the idea that women just didn’t know what they wanted; or don‘t know how to “pick“ a good man. Choosing a loser was a source of her anger, and a much discussed thought was when women get a good man, they treat him with such disrespect and disdain until he eventually becomes turned off, resentful or even violent because of “her” behavior, and his reactions makes her angry.

“The woman doesn’t know her place as a man’s helper according to the Bible,” was another man’s reason. While the majority of men agreed that they expected women to “be available” mentally, emotionally and especially physically whenever her man needs her. It is her “job.”

As I watched and waited for the introduction of what I believe is a primary reason most black women are angry, there was only one small segment in the movie that dealt with infidelity. In the scene, three of the main character’s friends were chiding and encouraging him to seek comfort in the arms of another woman. From their perspective, it was the expected behavior of a “real man,” even if he was someone’s husband or significant other.

This lack of significant attention shown to infidelity shows how unimportant men, especially Mr. Alexander, thinks infidelity is to the attitude and behavior of women. I imagine that if women were polled, not only black women, but a cross section of all women who are or have been in relationships with men, infidelity would be at or close to the top of the list of causes for their anger. Men seem to have no idea what a turn-off, anger-provoking, disgusting feeling women get toward men who cheat on them.

To say that it is a man’s nature, or act as if it is no big deal, or expect forgiveness and understanding is an insult to a woman’s sensibilities. We may forgive the indiscretion, and remain and move forward in the relationship, but we never forget the hurt, disrespect or mental image of our man rutting in the arms of another woman. Mr. Alexander’s movie failed to discover, or even discuss with women, one true reason for why the angry black woman is angry.

I think men know why women are angry, but they continue to try and find reasons to take the light off themselves and shine it on us. And their disregard for our feelings about their actions is another reason which makes and keeps women angry…very angry.

http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/24/how-do-politicians-survive-sex-scandals/

In celebration of Juneteenth, I wish I had the ability to express the wave of powerful emotions that washed over me and brought scalding tears to my eyes when I thought about writing this article. My mind flashed on my grandmother who was born in 1865, the year the slaves were “freed,” wearing her long white apron in Louisiana. I saw the fields of cotton my fiance took me to see in 2003 in California because I had never seen similar places down south where my people had labored during slavery.

In my mind’s eye I saw pictures of my black sisters and brothers being attacked with water hoses, dogs, Billy clubs and savagery. Then like fast forward, my mind brought me back to sitting in my bed and a blank sheet of paper, but the pain lingered.

I am a person who does not like black rhetoric, in fact I hate it; particularly when we linger and wallow in our ex-slave misery, using it as an excuse not to perform on the level we are capable of; we meaning black folks. But then I remember those who were left behind when the flight to white neighborhoods and a “better life” lured away our teachers, doctors, business people, ministers, and others of higher status and education after civil rights laws were mandated.

I don’t blame them. When my ex-husband and I bought our first home in 1976, it was in a new development with only one other black family. So I can relate to the desire to live the “American dream,” but what about all those who couldn’t leave and escape their stifling environment? What about all those who had menial jobs, but were decent, God-fearing folks who marched, and were beaten and spat on, but were left behind?

They are those on whose shoulders and graves so many of us black folks stand on today, and the generations they spawned are the people we now call the black Underclass. They are that group of low-income, barely educated, unsophisticated, crude people that many of us now avert our eyes from rather than notice or acknowledge. The ones many blacks and others from various ethnic groups are employed to serve because we are teachers, social workers, government employees, preachers, doctors, lawyers, police officers, prison staff, counselors, etc. etc. They are also the ones none of us can seem to accept as fellow human beings. We denigrate them to cases and files, numbers without faces or souls, but characters who are certainly not like us.

To proper society the Underclass are welfare mothers, drug-addicted or incarcerated or absent fathers, low-lifers, irresponsible, criminal, stupid, crazy, less-than-human wastes of time. And we wonder where they came from, or call them “refugees” as they were labeled in New Orleans after Katrina. We can take their children because they are poor and give them to others without a look back or a thought about their feelings. We can make them wait for hours while we take breaks or talk on the phone, thinking they have nothing else to do, and they need us to give them equity of food, clothing and shelter.

But the Underclass are none of these things, and without them many of us wouldn’t have jobs, or be able to live in our comfort zones. But primarily, we should consider that they are the products of the same stock of people from which many of us have come. They are the descendants of the bridges over which many of us have crossed, and they only want what we all want…to be loved and understood. But primarily, we should consider that they are the offspring of the people who were simply left behind.

One of the things I appreciate most about getting older is learning to relax and allow life to happen. When you’re young everything seems to be an emergency, a tragedy or a disaster. Young people are in constant struggle mode. All events become mountains. But when you get older, the challenges of life are like bumps in the road and the solutions are expected to be just over the horizon.

Recently, the subject of using one’s expertise to form a monetized business has been very prevalent in many of the social network sites to which I belong. The writers of those blogs and articles have turned their skill of giving advice into businesses of encouraging others to do the same. They are calling themselves coaches or consultants. As I have lived for 67 years and find myself safely on the other side of many of life’s challenges, perhaps my experiences have become my expertise.

I tell my special someone all the time that when I make my final transition this time, I will not be coming back as there is not too much of life I haven’t already lived through. So whether I make money or not by sharing my experiences, I feel that the matters of life I learned will be of benefit to someone, and I welcome the chance to share them.

Prior to becoming a blogger, I decided to make recordings for my children and grandchildren about things I felt they might need to help on their journeys. These tidbits of “wisdom” were paid for with many tears, sleepless nights, confusion and faulty decisions. But there were also flashes of pure joy, pleasure, fun, laughter, satisfaction and love. To say the good outweighed or outnumbered the bad is one of the reasons I am still standing and happy today. So the first and most important “fully-lived” matters of life aspect, barring extreme physical or mental disability, is the balance of experiences.

Another very important matter of life is that time takes care of many things. Time must always be weighed whether things are going good or bad, as everything is temporary…and I do mean everything! Taking time into consideration, we should be totally engaged in enjoying life’s good times, and detached when involved in the bad.

Detaching yourself from a negative situation does not mean to neglect your duty or give up. Detaching means to take responsibility for the part you played, but to use the experience to learn a lesson. You should forgive yourself and any others involved, and do whatever is necessary to solve the problem. “There is nothing new under the sun,” and you are not the first or last who has made the same or worse mistake. Asking for help and responding as quickly as possible are also important steps in the process.

Remember that time will alleviate some of the pressure, but your emotional state during the course of action will determine success or failure. Others will understand and allow you to move on if the situation requires remorse and restitution, and you are willing to give both. Doing your part to fix or rebuild the relationship or problem will help you mature and become stronger when the next problems come, and they always will.

In her song, Each Tear, Mary J. Blige sings:

“In each tear there’s a lesson.
Makes you wiser than before.
Makes you stronger than you know.
Each tear brings you closer to your dreams.
No mistake, no heartbreak can take away what you’re meant to be.”

In the next installment we’ll examine these factors again along with others, but remember, in matters of life, the good outweighs the bad, all things happen in time, attitude makes or breaks a situation, and the responsibility of living a good life is yours.
“>

After working diligently to get my children’s book and rag dolls published and manufactured, I am constantly made aware that there is always something new that needs to be done. There’s always some tweaking, redesigning, refining, and redefining required.

As our products move along in our plans for them, we become more aware of how time is affecting what we have to offer, as well as the way in which we have to offer it. For example, on one of the sites where the image of the doll is imprinted on various products, another image requiring a transparency rather than a picture will be utilized.

This change was suggested by the artist who did the vector illustrations for the book. This alteration will give a more updated, cleaner look to the products and the artwork will provide outlets for further items like cards, posters, etc.

It is changes such as this that is required to keep up with what is happening in the marketplace. When I watched cartoons with my grandson on Saturday morning, I was delighted to see how fresh and beautiful Mickey and Minnie and Goofy and all the Disney character’s looks have evolved.

Seeing Disney as an outstanding role model, and observing their evolution, keeps me moving forward. Their success motivates me to continue to realize that there is always something that needs to be done, and being willing to make the changes can be very beneficial as well as promote longevity.

As I get older I spend more and more time thinking about the past. On this particular occasion I am remembering how many historical moments I’ve witnessed, either being personally involved, or as a spectator in front of my T.V. screen. And although I might have been many miles away, all of the events had an effect on me as I can still remember where I was, but more particularly, how I felt about them.

My first memory is that of my father coming home after World War II. I was 3 years old. I was awaken very early by this handsome smiling man in an Army uniform. Until his death in 1983, he steered me through segregation in Louisiana, then relocated our family to San Francisco where we shared visions of the civil right demonstrations and man’s first steps on the moon from our living room.

Among the most memorable historical event is the bombing of the Twin Towers. I remember, because I was rushing around getting ready for work, turned the T.V. on, and saw the first building with smoke pouring out. I awoke my son and joked about someone flying into the building…then the plane hit the second building and life changed for real, not like the imagined panic we expected with Y2K.

Many, many hours I watched the O. J. trial, and stood with him awaiting the verdict, but I lost respect for him totally when he took that victory we all cheered for and wiped his ass with it.

On a lighter note, I remember the day Paris Hilton was born. The newspaper announcement made me smile as it does now…at last, there was another girl named “Paris.”

Princess Di’s wedding and funeral; Rodney King’s beating and the ensuing riot; the assassinations of M. L. King, John and Robert Kennedy, and Malcolm X; the murders of the Mayor and Supervisor in San Francisco; the Jim Jones massacre; Patty Hearst being on the run; the fire-bombing of the MOVE group in Philly; the Columbine killings; and Viet Nam held a grip on my heart for many years. People leaving under suspicious, awful, very painful circumstances became all too familiar.

Totally unfamiliar was the pain of losing my oldest son, Tracy, age 41, in December of 2004. He was just here one day, and gone the next. Since then I’ve lost two infant grandsons. What I’ve accepted is that we all have a time to go. This knowledge has surprisingly given me some comfort, and helped me prepare for my own transition.

Most of the 60s is unfortunately foggy as I was a “hippy“ more or less on the weekends, but I remember dancing all night to disco music in the 70s, and eventually evolving spiritually. The 80s seemed to release much of the pressure I had been experiencing for years as I became a senior and, for awhile, a Republican. In 1988 I suffered the tumult of a toxic relationship and became involved in a child abuse case.

In the 90s I ran a non-profit child abuse prevention organization; saw cotton for the first time; and got divorced. The new century brought a return to school and a much-desired A.A. degree. I got engaged, and retired. But life and its history making activity hasn’t slowed one bit. In the last few years, I’ve become a published author, an avid online networker, and been diagnosed with breast and bone cancer.

Michael and so many others I loved have died. The tsunami, the San Francisco and Haiti earthquakes caused devastation and death, and no one can remember weather like we’re having, but all is not gloom and doom. The cell phone and world wide web have changed so many things forever. The release of Nelson Mandela, and the election of President Barack Obama have given many of us hope that the future in many instances will be brighter.

When my youngest grandchild, who is 9 months old, grows older and looks back on her historical moments, I hope they are not dominated by tragedy and madness, but rather positive advancements, stimulating ingenuity, greater understanding and lasting peace. Still, I wouldn’t have missed this life’s human experience for anything in the world, and I believe that when I leave this time, there will be no need to ever return; so lets just hope it won’t be soon.

What would the world be like without diversity? In a recent Sacramento Bee article regarding hospitals putting in meditation spaces, the negative comments in response were stuck on non-traditional religious groups having access. The proposed purpose of the rooms, according to the hospitals, was to offer places for patients, doctors, workers and others to seek spiritual encouragement and strength, or just quiet spaces for contemplation.

In the comments, however, the focus turned the spaces into battlegrounds. The nature of different religious groups and their day-to-day interaction became the focal point rather than an attempt to respect the needs of others to participate in their spiritual beliefs.

The United States of America touts itself as the champion of personal and religious freedoms, but as soon as an opportunity to express those freedom becomes available, the ugly head of negativity and discrimination still too often pops up.

If we would simply open our eyes and minds, we would see that along with all other species of plants and animals, humans also fit into the criteria of diversity. Whether we adhere to creationism or evolution, the world and everything in it consists of variety.

Those who are placing so much importance on how someone else worships, should consider the briefness of the human lifespan. Within approximately 100 years, everyone alive today will be gone, along with all their prejudice, animosity, distrust, anger, malice and hatred.

Rather than see meditation rooms as another war zone, perhaps we can declare them neutral territories in which to manifest peace, understanding and healing.

For the last 18-plus years since I have been trying to bring my dolls and books to market, there have been many occasions when I’ve felt like throwing in the towel and giving up, and I often wondered why I hadn’t.

I have signed three contracts and seen many people come and go who have become enthused and excited about my project, but who have faded away over time. I have even had people whom I have asked for advice and direction, and some who would have loved to see me fail, suggest that I should give up and try something else… but still I held on. Something always pulled me back whenever I got too close to the precipice of throwing in the towel. 

In time I came to see that it was not because I needed to do what I was trying to do. I’m retired, I have a nice apartment; good friends; and a loving family. It was not because I am a materialistic person, I can buy whatever I desire and come and go as I please. Sure I could use more money, who couldn’t, but money was not motivating me to keep going either. Like Martin Luther King, Jr., what was holding me hostage was the realization that I had a dream. 

My dream was and is to help my family; help other people who like me have a dream; and help parents and their children. The desire to help has been so strong it keeps pushing and pulling, carrying me along through all the disappointments, deterrents and detours I’ve had to overcome and endure. Throwing in the towel was not an option, and if nothing else, I’ve learned to be patient and to believe that “delay does not mean denial.” 

Now I have published my first children’s book, The First Trip, and have the first character doll, Bubba Oodle, ready for market and I know the thrill of achievement. But the greatest lesson learned has been the establishment of faith in my ability to successfully accomplish whatever I say I can. 

So to any entrepreneur who needs to hear it, don’t throw in the towel just yet. There could be something greater than you ever imagined waiting to be realized.