Category — Wellbeing

Along with being outside in a natural setting, one of my favorite places for meditation and inspiration is in the shower. When I am in the shower, I feel the most vulnerable but also the most secure. There I feel closer to God than almost anywhere else.

The fall of the hot water cascading over my skin makes me feel united with one of the most powerful forces in creation while giving me feelings of authority and humbleness. In the shower is where I often go to cry, to celebrate, to mourn, to laugh, to be a child again…if only for those precious minutes.

Water has always fascinated me as a symbol and manifestation of God’s spirit and supremacy. Even in its destructive wake of flood and crashing waves, there is a sense of dominion without limitations. And that power fortifies my own desire for freedom and control when it and I meld as one in the shower. The greatness of the water is both within and without me.

Showering has become something more than an expected and routine behavior or a daily ritual to me. It often takes on a sacred overtone. In its deluge I am touched, cleansed, baptized, blessed, refreshed and renewed. My tears add to its volume, my soul is stirred, and I am cuddled like a child by its embrace. The spirit of God is present in its unrivaled perfection and that lets me know I’m not alone.

Each magnificent drop of water is a world unto itself and a part of the whole. The joy of showers remind me that I am also as one with creation’s beauty and a receiver of its wonderful blessings.

As experiences come into your life, you begin to recognize how one situation compares and relates to another. For example, my recent bout with the side effects of a treatment meant to improve and protect my bones from the ravages of bone cancer and osteoporosis triggered the thought of how the side effects of integration have affected the lives and lifestyle of socioeconomically disadvantaged blacks in America.

The once a month infusion treatment, or intravenous injection, was supposed to alleviate the pain and prevent further disintegration or breaking of my bones. I suffered great side effects of chills and aching the first time the drug was administered, but when the injection time was increased, those particular side effects decreased. The treatment continued month after month, but I began to notice I was having difficulty breathing.

It began with the feeling of excess fluid and a rattling breath sound. The problem impeded my ability to perform any physical activity, walking, cleaning, showering, having sex, etc. All effort was labored and distressful. My doctors ordered x-rays, scans, and echo-grams to try to find out what was causing the “pleural effusion” I was suffering; but to no avail. The situation kept getting worse.

Along with complaining, I began to do research into the side effects of the many drugs and supplements I am taking for my various ailments which include Type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, anemia, breast cancer, bone cancer, osteoporosis, and kidney disease. Some of the medications mentioned difficulty in breathing, but the doctors seemed to ignore that as a cause. Since the infusion was the latest treatment, to me it became the most suspicious.

As a required precaution, prior to receiving the treatment, a blood test to see if the creatinine level in my kidneys is low is taken as the medication negatively affects the kidneys. For the past three months, my tests have come back with the level too high because the tumor in my cancerous breast erupted and caused bleeding. The loss of blood caused the kidneys to be drier, causing the creatinine level to go higher, which negated my infusion treatment. So while my body has been healing from the tumor eruption, it has also been withdrawing from the side effects of the infusion, which has allowed my breathing to return to normal. I am regaining my strength and ability to function as before. Thank God!

When I awoke this morning the correlation of experiencing side effects from a medical treatment fit into the framework of the black Underclass in America experiencing the side effects of integration.

For many blacks, successful assimilation became a reality. However, according to Bill Cosby, beloved TV father and celebrity, the “lower economic people” or black Underclass, are “knuckleheads walking around…not holding up their end.” To Mr. Cosby, the Underclass has not gotten with the program of living in an American, integrated society and their inability to appropriately function has become very obvious.

In recent statements, Mr. Cosby, has spoken on their lack of language skills, their poor parenting, their spending habits, their dress, their lifestyle, their reflection of ethnicity, even the naming of their children. We all recognize him as a very funny comedian, but what has and is happening to our people is no joke.

Integration was a wonderful concept from a basic human standpoint. All people should be allowed the freedom of their “inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” and the U.S. prides itself in that ideal. But along with the powerlessness to pursue the better things in life, there were many blacks who were unable to escape their environment even after the opportunity was presented due to a lack of money and education, or simply because they wished to remain in the comfort zone of their surroundings.

The side effects of such great change in their surroundings became most severe when nearly all of the educated, prominent, role models moved from the black neighborhoods to white suburbs and left the less fortunate behind. The ones left were forced to continue surviving as best they could without direction and the leadership and guidance that had always been available. The motivators and mentors disappeared, leaving only folks of basically the same status. So the vulnerable ethnic group developed their own ways of life and became a culture (Underclass) within a culture (black) within a culture (white or American). The culture of the black Underclass includes a language and moral code which often seems harsh and even barbaric to those from the outside.

But the resourceful group has now increased in such numbers and have gained the attention of outsiders through the widespread popularity of rap and hip hop music, clothing and hair styles, piercing and tattoos, etc. Those who are thriving with conventional lifestyles are taking notice. Particularly as another side effect of integration has been the adoption by mainstream youth of many of the Underclass habits and social standards; including the use of the “N” word.

The further side effects of the full acceptance and incorporation of the black Underclass language, dress, and customs, has made some middle- and upper-class blacks, like Mr. Cosby, criticize and denigrate them in order to try to set them apart. But it can’t be done. Just as I can’t separate my breathing from what is happening to my bones, all descendants of slaves are segments of the whole, parts of the body. It is our legacy. All we can hope for is to find ways to alleviate the side effects which are affecting us.

If Mr. Cosby really wants to help, rather than rant to his peers; he should go to people who would benefit the most from hearing what he has to say. Speak to them and I believe they will listen. He should tell them about his own side effects and challenges. As a matter of fact, the black Underclass has been waiting for someone who made it out and overcame the struggle to come back and give them some honest relief. After all, isn’t that what all those suffering from side effects really want and need?

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\"

When I wake up every morning, and I’m grateful for that blessing, I know that this is a day I have been given to create, or be or do something different. It is with that freshness of anticipation that I love to begin my day. Although there may have come up issues I had to address yesterday, or there may be things which have lingered around for quite awhile, each morn brings a chance to learn a new lesson; something exceptional. And that possibility is what makes living life a wonderful experience.

Since I have been old enough to remember, I have always been a crier. I cry when I’m happy, I cry when I’m sad. I even cry when I think about all the times I’ve cried. I realize now that mainly I was crying out of frustration, because I put so much on my plate all the time, and usually didn’t know how to find myself out of the maze of decisions I was making; so I cried. I also remember mourning the death of my parents years and years before they died, but when they did I was quite prepared. They had taught me all that they could, and although I missed them tremendously, accepting their passing was a lesson I had to learn.

Life has become more enjoyable for me as time goes on, and that’s because I have opened my mind to the possibilities that all my experiences come to teach me lessons, and the sooner I learn them, the sooner I can move on. In addition, if a similar experience or lesson comes up again, I can act rather than react in behalf of my own well-being and peace of mind. I have also learned to ask for help when I need it, I have stopped trying to do everything myself; which was one of my biggest problems. Others know equal to or more about certain things than I and it is their mission in life to provide their expertise, just as it is my purpose to provide mine. We can’t be all things to all people, not even to ourselves.

Each of us has something important to the world. As we go along, we should share our knowledge, even if it hurts or makes us ashamed to admit our choices…especially to our children. For it is in the relating to others that we receive forgiveness and restoration. We may think we are the only ones who have committed our acts, but logic should tell us that with billions of people in the world, there are many others who have made the same mistake, if we want to call it that. I believe there are lapses in judgment or misdirections or experimentation, but they are only mistakes if we do not learn the lessons they come to teach. Learning the lessons is what primarily makes life such a wonderful experience.

Whether it is related to business or personal, whatever we do should be done from our heart. Conducting our affairs within an environment of compassion will be more worthwhile at the end of the day. Knowing we have made someone’s way a little lighter and brighter by just being courteous and helpfully supportive will add tremendously to our feeling of well-being to last a lifetime.

An example is a recurring situation between my neighbors. I live in a 9-story apartment building of 83 units. Most are occupied by one person living alone, and all of the residents are either disabled and/or seniors ranging in age from 18 to over 100. There is much variety in our ethnicities as well, but all are close to the same financial status.

On many occasions, holidays, birthdays, etc., we act like a big family. We also help each other during times of necessity; displaying much thoughtfulness. We share and recycle openly or anonymously; often by hanging a bag on someone’s doorknob containing goodies, clothing or other items.

But once in awhile tempers flare and harsh words are exchanged because someone feels that their charitable act was not appreciated in the way they felt it should have been. This causes the other residents to take sides, discuss the matter openly or in whispers, and generally creates an uncomfortable environment. These confrontations have even led to violence and police involvement.

This situation may sound insignificant, but when you consider it as a microcosm of events which take place in individual lives, in our workplaces, in government offices, even between countries, you can see how not doing things from the heart, but from the perspective of “what have or will you do for me,” can lead to great loss, division and disturbance of the peace, or cause war to erupt.

If we took the time to examine our motives, and if they lack true compassion, it would be better not to put forth the effort. If the cost of doing it wrong far outweighs the reward of doing it right, perhaps we should wait until we feel we are honestly doing it from our heart.

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.”