Category — Reflections

For the last four or five years I’ve been writing blogs and doing social networking and have joined or connected to over 300 internet groups. When I Google my name, I’m surprised at the things that pop up and am amazed at how far my name and messages have reached. This is not to thump my own chest, rather to set the stage for something which never ceases to amaze me. I wonder and am surprised when others comment on how strong they consider me to be.

My readers’ perceptions make me wonder to what exactly is that strength attributed? Is it the time I’ve spent at the keyboard pecking away; or it is starting, deleting, uploading and downloading pictures and videos? Is it using the Thesaurus to express the same words in different ways to vary my content; or is it reading and re-reading, checking the spell-checked text to be sure I’ve caught all the errors? Is it arranging, rearranging, placing and displacing sentences, clauses, phrases, titles, paragraphs, punctuation marks, or whole topics?

Is it the subject matter I write about; the opinions I confer, the arguments in which I take a determined stand, or the information about my experiences I choose to share? Or could it be my resolve to write even when I wonder if what I am saying is making a difference?

I have come to accept that my being strong is not a power that I particularly possess. But my strength comes from the perception of my readers. If those who read my articles can derive some measure of understanding, enlightenment and inspiration, I believe they are made stronger. Their strength is then reflected back to me in encouraging comments they send which in turn makes me stronger.

Without receiving responses, the posts I write are merely me consuming time and effort. Instead they have become more than expressions of my point of view and a sharing of my life’s journey. Our ongoing communications have become a source of reciprocal strength, and I wish to thank all of my readers for making me strong.

My neighbor and I met in the hallway of our apartment building and exchanged hellos. He has been having some serious health issues and so have I. During our brief interlude, we laughed at how we have simply just gotten old. We have to admit it, and were amused with how we now realize why old people always seem so short tempered and in such a hurry. They, or we now, don’t have the time to dilly-dally and procrastination is a waste of time.

We also touched on how limited we are in having someone to depend on and concluded that sadly, God is the only one. Everyone else is trying to keep it together just as we are.

I admit it was very disheartening to wake up one day and discover I was old. Oh, I’m not crying in my tomato soup, I still have an active life. But, as my health issues increase and my energy decreases, I have to face the fact that I am no longer in my 20s, 30s, 40s, or 50s, and quickly slipping away from my 60s. (I will be 68 in January.) What to do; what to do!!

I find it interesting that although I know how old I am when I look in the mirror, and by the way my body feels when I struggle with things I’ve been used to doing very easily, my mind only feels full to overflowing; not old. I just know that I know a lot about a lot. There aren’t too many subjects, except those extreme intellectual ones like quantum physics and such that I either have experienced, know someone who has, or heard or read about. This mass of knowledge gives me great pleasure, especially when I get to share it.

I guess the bottom line is that getting older ain’t that bad. In fact, I accept it as my reward for all the tears, confusion, and do-over’s I’ve had to endure. I love my gray hair and wish it were gold, because I’ve entered the “golden time of day” and find it’s not too bad. I dedicate the attached video to all those golden oldies like me and all those who look forward to becoming one.

Frankie Beverly and Maze \"The Golden Time of Day\"

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.
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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.

Yesterday, talking to my oncologist about the treatment she is prescribing for my recently diagnosed breast and bone cancer, she inquired about my mental attitude and outlook on life in general. It was not too surprising as everyone has been encouraging me to “stay positive” in order to beat this new health challenge.

This idea of outlook on life brings me to the subject of how significant does the average person think his or her life is? I am by no means a celebrity or “star”; never had my name in lights [well, actually my name has been but it was for that other Paris (Hilton)], but like so many others, I am striving to be and do something meaningful…to be significant. 

Needless to say, I believe that each of us, whether notable or notorious, lives a significant life. When we consider all the people we touch on a day-to-day basis, by saying hello, smiling, shaking hands, showing appreciation, giving a nod or thumbs up, a hug, or prayer, or even if we’ve been less than friendly, we are affecting the universal spiritual field around us and making a change in the dynamics of humanity. Like pebbles thrown in a pond, the ripples of our actions go forth into eternity. We are significant.

Each person brings something unique and rare. No two are alike! The thought of it boggles the mind. We should, therefore, see ourselves as individual representatives of the whole of mankind, and treat others in that same light. When we come…and go…we have changed the world and it will never be the same again. How can anyone be less than positive with that thought in mind?

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As an entrepreneur, how do you measure success? Is it measured by the amount of money you’re able to generate? Is it the ability to duplicate your idea or get the greatest acclaim? Can it be your staying power in the marketplace or your brand building? I believe there are as many different ways of measurement as there are entrepreneurs, and success is an individual determination. 

For me, having dabbled in the game of self-generated income, I am reconsidering my idea of success, as my current situation is causing me to feel some conflict. Although I have had the ability to be self-supportive from revenues garnered from my gifts and talents through the years, I have not been able to sustain nor excel to the point of what others may think is success for too long. 

Many ideas, time and effort have come and gone. My interest was piqued for while, but eventually waned and I moved on to something else. Nevertheless the time I’d spent and the pleasure derived from my performance of the activity was thought of by me as positive measures of my success. 

When I published my first book after waiting 18 years for the pleasure, the congratulations and love shown me by my family, friends and business associates made me feel on top of the world. Before I sold one copy, I felt like a success. I had accomplished a great part of my mission. But the work to sell the book is ongoing and difficult, and sells have slowed. Do I measure my success, not in selling books, but in having a book to sell? 

The conflict I am having is in trying to gather the same level of enthusiasm and excitement into marketing my product as I had in getting it made. I am in a new arena and a new game in which the measure of success is different. I am wondering if making money is the most concrete, important evidence of a successful entrepreneur. 

Some of the elements of entrepreneurship I’ve decided to consider are: how willing am I to risk being a failure? Am I learning things of importance as I go? How much more do I know about business or life? How much personal growth can I claim? Have my values changed, or do I view my products or customers or my responsibility to my customers in a different light? Is my attitude or my level of patience or consistency to my expression of quality the same? Do I feel that I am doing and being the best that I can be at what I do? 

For me and others struggling with our definition of success or feeling disappointed in not being what and where we think we should be, perhaps we should consider using another yardstick of measurement. I’d like to read any comments on the subject you care to share.

Periodically we should take time to look at ourselves. It is good if this introspection takes place before our baser nature or beast is discovered by the world outside, as observed lately in so many celebrities, sports figures, politicians, preachers, and business men. Long before the world knows about our brokenness there are signs that we recognize, but refuse to consider. 

I believe that we are spiritual beings having a human experience; and in that humanity is located the lustful desires of the flesh. Be it drugs, alcohol, money, pornography, shopping, bullying, sex, food, gambling, lying, cheating, stealing…whatever; these kinds of things when out of control can take us down to less than decent, honest, kind, faithful and true human beings. We can become animalistic and dangerous to ourselves and others. We release the beast. 

The release of the beast can occur in the life of anyone: man, woman or child. All it takes is to slacken our sense of right and wrong and allow our self-control to become suppressed. Instead, we enjoy the power and allow the reward of our actions to go far beyond our thoughts of the costs or consequences. It is a sort of madness that takes over our normally contained character, and we think that “what’s done in the dark” will remain there, but it seldom does. 

In our perverted state, unless there is mental illness or injury involved, our conscience or spirit should kick in and signal an overload; tell us that we’ve gone too far. Tragically for some, suicide becomes a relief; for others, delving deeper until others notice initiates remedy. It is best if we can see ourselves for what we have become and seek help or put ourselves in check. This is the most effective and most lasting. 

Everyone has their personal beast or brokenness they must battle everyday. Billions of dollars go into drugs, therapy and ways of coping with, containing and restraining it. But if we view our beast from the perspective that it is a part of our nature, part of this human experience that we must not allow to overtake our minds, hearts and bodies, but learn to control within the confines of our physical nature, we can “be healed, be delivered, and be set free.” But too often, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

From September, 1988 to May, 1991, I was involved in a civil child abuse case. I was never arrested, nor were my children proven to be other than “endangered” by me because I believed in spanking, but they were placed in shelter for the majority of that time nonetheless. I present the full details in my book, By Hope Alone: The Making of a Parent; The story of a mother’s journey through life, love and a child-abuse case, so I won’t relate it too closely here. The purpose of this writing is to give you some idea of the changes my life has taken since that experience.

When I wrote the book, I was trying to figure out how I had gotten to that place…a child-abuse case. I grew up in a loving home, with both parents who were married nearly 50 years. My father was never abusive, verbally or physically to my mother, me or my siblings. There was no drug or alcohol use or abuse, and I was well taken care of.

We went to church every Sunday. I attended private school until high school. And although we were poor, I never realized our poverty until I look back now. I had loving grandparents, aunts, cousins, friends and neighbors for the most part. But what happened? Where did my life take the wrong road that led to a child-abuse case?

We read in the scriptures of the Bible the parable about the foundation on which we build our house; whether it is sand or rock. Without a firm foundation the house will not stand in a storm. The fairytale of the three little pigs is about change, adaptation and triumph. One pig had a house of sticks and one straw, which the wolf was able to blow down. But when they all escaped to the brother’s brick house, the wolf’s hot air had no effect.

Those two stories illustrate my premise for this writing. To my dismay, as I sat down to write my book, I discovered how my life had been built on a foundation of sand in a house of straw. The life my parents gave me, with all its protection and secrets failed to provide me with the tools I needed to survive in the “real” world…the world I was destined to enter and brave after they encouraged me to marry someone not for love but for security’s sake.

The marriage I was too young and totally unprepared for turned out to be unlike my parents’ idyllic portrayal of wedded bliss. Mine set in motion changes which affect me until today; changes which led me completely astray from what once was my innocence. I went from being my parents’ child, to starting out as a dutiful wife, but a tremendous heartbreak of infidelity by my husband led me to a near breakdown of my moral code which ended in another dysfunctional relationship, two additional children and a child-abuse case.

Sitting in the courtroom during the “trial,” I cried out and the desperation in my heart was heard. A voice whispered, “Pay attention,” and from that response to my prayer, everything was transformed. I made a conscious decision to change, to build my life on a firm foundation out of the bricks of self control, introspection and most of all the love I needed to restore my family and become someone I am proud to be now. Change can happen. I’m a living witness and an avid advocate for it.

http://www.createspace.com/3428567

On January 30, I turned 67. Being 67 gives me a privileged opportunity to look back over a span of many years to see how far, not only have I come, but also how far my fellow human beings have evolved on this earth that we share. 

Behind me are 6 decades, 3 generations, and half a century of changes, tragedies and wonders. And I’ve viewed them all from the perspective of a woman, an American and a black person. Those three are not my only characteristics, but being a black woman in America has always played a particularly affective role in my life. 

In America, the U. S., being black has often over shadowed the other aspects. Try though I might to circumvent my ethnicity and focus on the job or task at hand, I have always been made aware or needed to consider my ethnicity. Having to declare it has become particularly much more worrisome than in past years when it was viewed as either a duty or necessity. But I am wondering what the beneficial reason is for it now? 

We are all in a financial crisis in the world; everyone is feeling the pinch. So what does my color have to do with anything? To me, knowing how hard I’m struggling is a matter of status, and members of the haves or have nots include folks from all ethnic groups. 

At this point, will I receive any extra benefit because I am black, female or American? What will my sex, ethnicity or citizenship provide that the status of human being cannot?

 www.paristompkins.com

www.thefirsttrip.com

Reflecting on the past can work in any relationship whether personal or business when situations which call for a crucial decision come up. If you haven’t had a similar experience, try being positive first. It could save you time, money and effort, and a good friend or business associate. A negative response may cause you to have to start all over and lose something or someone very valuable to your life. The following story is a good example of my theory. 

Yesterday I was visiting my boyfriend (yes, I have a boyfriend at my age, but that’s for another discussion), and he said something that “hurt my feelings,” and for a moment I froze. I say “hurt my feelings,” although no one can “hurt” your feelings. They are your feelings and you alone control how you feel. He could only direct my positive or negative response, which I also still control. 

Anyway, the super-sensitive, low self-esteem, jealous, ejective Paris pulled her head in like a turtle and began to sulk. That was my first reaction and the old me would have been plotting ways in her head to break away from the relationship. She would have become angry and mean, and probably would have said some rather nasty and unladylike things involving body parts and personality traits. 

But thank God I remembered a very similar situation from over 30 yeas ago in which the man wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings. He was sharing a decision he had made and an action he had taken which put me at the front of the line. (Ladies, there’s always a line, whether in fact or in fiction (such as the Playboy Channel). So, being the new me, my response became positive, and worked to draw me closer to him rather than to “throw the baby out with the bath water.” 

I would have preferred not to know about his actions, but the fact that he was willing to share them with me let me see that he trusts me enough to tell me something which could have caused a very bad reaction. I appreciated his trust, which deepened my feelings. 

If I had not have had that past experience, and recalled it, I would have made a very bad current mistake. My wish for you is to live life, love deeply, and laugh often.