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Archive for the tag “perspectives”

10 Feb 2015
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A View From Inside-Part IV

I cannot blame today’s youth completely. I believe we parents did not prepare them. We were so busy making it better for them, because we could. Our parents and grandparents fought long, hard, deadly struggles. We forgot, the pain, the long talks, the faces of disappointment, anger and fear. We did NOT want our children to see that in us. We forgot to remind them that trouble is always waiting for an opportunity. What happened it bypassed us and went straight for our jugular vein. It knew we would not let it slip up on us, but our children, weak vulnerable that was the target. While they slept, while we were away from them to far to fight for them, it pounced.

I recall hearing time and again, “It’s a jungle out there”. As a child, I dismissed it as one more thing adults say that children don’t understand, but they are not talking to us anyway. The older I got it made more sense, it became relevant to my life it addressed the competition involved in staying alive. Now I could relate. Once my kids were born it took on a whole new meaning.

As the mother of two sons, I remember the days they were born respectively. Back in those days you did not really know what you were having until the child was born or if the ultra-sound tech got a “lucky” shot. I remember wanting girls both times. I told my boys as young adults, not to hurt them but for information. I did keep a deep dark secret from them and that secret was I did NOT want to face the challenges and likely heart break having a son who was black could bring.   I knew in spite of everything one can do to prepare that man-child, a predator waits for him. I also knew that I faced having to tell my innocent boys about this treachery or leave them helpless and clueless. I was afraid for them. Hell of a choice AND one that I had less than a decade to decide which one was the right one.

The right choice was for us to take them away from the element. We moved them into a predominately white environment complete with a public school system that ranked among the scores private schools in Southern California. Whew, now I could breathe. There we were defeating the odds, so we thought. They were from a two parent household, above average income, educated parents and an area that was “safe”. Remember that decision I had only a decade for? The first came in the form of them being ostracized by people they were entrusted with. Fortunately we were always present, always watching over, always apt to pop in. However, didn’t we take them to this place so we would NOT have to do all of that?

My eldest son did not experience this unyielding ugly and potential danger first, it was my youngest. I always wondered about that. My eldest is dark and clearly black. The “baby” had his own grandparents laughing at his fair characteristics, but that happens in our families more often than NOT. I remember the day we took him from a beautiful little church school on the peninsula, because no one would play with him; they were afraid of him because he was a big boy. I thought how could ADULTS allow that to go on? Furthermore not bother to tell us. He went to that little church school two weeks before we found a more diverse environment. If my husband, who was ever-present (as I was), had NOT happened along to bring him a surprise lunch, we may have never known. He was a big, tall kid, he has big tall parents so that did not phase us, but being told the other children were afraid of him. Remember he was also a fair-skinned child.

In the wake of so many ugly police related wrongful deaths I wonder if the fear began for these same policemen as early as preschool? If so did an insensitive teacher, like the one at my son’s former school, ignore the behavior. I cannot say enough times I do not believe all policemen are bad, I do believe all police departments could benefit from addition training. Clearly something is being missed.

 

Posted in How We Relate and tagged
10 Feb 2015
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A View From Inside-V

Now I address fear and anger for the future. Each day something more happens, each day the media releases information that incites and upsets me. Married to a black man, mother to two black sons and expecting a black grandson. I cannot forget what is done to men in our race just because of their skin color. I watch people try to explain away the injustices, trying to make these terrible things our fault exclusively. Please understand and do not get me wrong, for everyone has to be held accountable for their deeds. None of us is exempt in this sense.

However, let us examine the phenomenon of the victim victimizes, the punished punishes, the abused is now and abuser. What do they all have in common?It is simple really, you survive something horrible and bad, but you are not treated and healed therefore you believe the treatment you were given is the treatment you must give.  You view these things as normal, the way it should be and you act accordingly.

I came across a piece about the family of actor Don Cheadle. His family genealogy was the subject matter and it was uncovered his ancestors we enslaved by Native Americans. It seemed to come as somewhat a surprise to him and others that watched the piece also were enlightened. While I knew of the enslavement of our ancestors, I also knew there were men who rose to the esteemed position of “chief” in some  tribes as well.  Mr. Cheadle remarked about the status of his kin as they were at one point people without a country. Being slaves of the Native American tribes put them under the jurisdiction of those same tribes and once the USA determined and declared slavery was illegal, those Native Americans were NOT under the rule of the USA. In many cases a separate negotiation had to be conducted for the slaves to be freed and then only to be placed in a status as outcast. They were not American citizens and they were not recognized as members of the tribes either.

I initially shook my head in disgust and disbelief. I asked how could a people who were treated so horribly by the white European settlers turn around and adopt the very same hideous practices. However, Native Americans often took slaves from wars among the warring tribes. “To the victor goes the spoils…” I do not want to trivialize this, but to point out how these negative practices are cyclic.

The behavior has to be modified and changed. Bridges and positive interactions will breed positive interactions. Stop believing every black man is a man with the strength of 20 angry men on crack with an I.Q of 7 because he was stopped by the police, justifying “shoot first ask questions later” mentality. Understand a mere fashion trend is not a disguise for a hardened criminal. We charge our law enforcement officers with many tasks but one task they must take on, along with a great portion of our society, is to not merely look beyond an individuals  skin color; no they must go one step further and they must do it rapidly, they must do what John Grisham asked of his audience in A Time To Kill, “Imagine them white”. Can you accept the challenge?

Posted in How We Relate and tagged
29 Jan 2015

Twice A Child III-Denial

I disregarded the fact that she had just told me this same story the last time we talked and that was just two days ago. When she said the trash collector will be here today because he comes on Friday and it was actually Sunday, I barely paid attention. Then she lost her house keys, twice in a month. I rationalized, well I have lost my keys in my purse so that is no big deal. When she told me she had her purse stolen from the exam room at her doctor’s office I was furious! I called the head administrator, I called the local police department, we made out reports. Today I can look at these things and so many others and I know I was in denial. I did not want to face the facts. However, the facts may spare you and your loved one at least some undue duress.

Fact like the most typical early detection is CRUCIAL for diagnosis and treatment. Many factor are weighed in regarding diseases of the mind. All memory disorders are NOT dementia. Alzheimer’s Disease gets tossed around as the catch all for older people with some memory impairments but Alzheimer’s has some very case specific symptoms that separates it from all the rest. Other physical disorders can affect the mind like diabetes and high blood pressure. Pain exacerbates these conditions as well. In our effort to be PC and kind we are calling these conditions out of their name, and it not only puts you in the wrong state of mind it puts others and perhaps the ones you love suffering from these conditions in a misguided, misinformed state. Speak to a medical professional, do reading on your own, and KNOW your family history. The person you may be caring for now could easily be you in the years to come.

This not to say every little misplaced item or forgotten lunch date is cause for concern. One must weigh each situation accordingly; listen to others around your loved one and speak directly with them. Just because you are close to someone, does NOT mean you know all about them.That closeness can be the very reason you are in denial. As our group maneuvers through this era of our lives these are some of the realities we are faced with. Our parents, if we are so blessed to have them still, are in the “twilight” of their lives. Some may live on to their late 90’s. 100 is not as uncommon as it used to be. Some of them may never loose their sense of consciousness, others may look at us one day and no have any idea who we are, and then there are all the variations in-between. However, we are strong and we will get through this, too. Simply be aware.

Posted in Order of Appearance and tagged , , | Leave a comment
29 Jan 2015
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Twice A Child II-Anger

When you fall from grace there generally is no cushion.  No matter how you brace yourself the landing is rough. A sudden abrupt thud. Examining the some of the stages we experience with this aging process, I think this is one of the more difficult ones, but to be honest one really isn’t better than the other. They are all emotional avalanches.

There he or she is, they look remotely familiar at times they look exactly like this person you know and love, then something strange occurs. You tell yourself how ridiculous this is, how out of character this person is behaving, what you have to realize is they are no more in control of this change than you are. Oh how you long for the person you used to know. At times you may get a glimpse of that individual again, but as unpredictable as a gust of wind they will disappear on you. Then you must realize the look is what looks, are surface impressions and superficial. Your loved one is transitioning and for your own sake you had better try to as well. I am not talking exclusively about death here.

I warn you take you hearts off your sleeves, because these folks you were once so close to, will pull no punches. From nowhere the accusations fly, ” You talk to me any kind of way, You don’t care about me, You took my money, You don’t respect or love me, I wish I was dead.. Venomous hurtful things said for reasons unknown, but then you have to try to understand this is not someone who is completely in control anymore.  I cannot say that enough, because you will be challenged by this, repeatedly and you must be strong for it will take a lot out of you. They are floating in and out of awareness, without warning attitudes and temperaments change. The very next day they will not remember how ugly they treated you, so you MUST try to forget it as well.

I think because we live(d) our lives without being told or being taught it is okay to get mad/angry/be upset with people we love, we don’t know how. We fight back these feelings, we feel guilty about having them and grow frustrated with behavior of ourselves and them. If you have experience in “fighting fair” you MAY be better equipped, but note the word “MAY”. Furthermore, there is NOTHING fair about what is happening to your loved one. It simply is happening.

Try to be kind to them and yourself. Look at this experience as one that shall pass, for it will, and be able to share with another person information to give them solace as they travel the path you have gone down. My BFF is big on random acts of kindness; well the next time you see an elderly person who looks lost take a moment out and talk to them, they have something to say and your listening could make all the difference that is needed in their world. A stranger may have to help someone you love one day, find their way back to where they belong.

 

 

Posted in Order of Appearance and tagged , ,
27 Jan 2015
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Twice A Child

I think about children running in a park laughing and squealing from excitement. I see tiny cute faces with smiles that light up rooms. There is a side that we see sometimes, when these same sources of joy do not get their way, and reality has to be put in play. These same beings with limited experiences of life now must be taught some life lessons. Then we move on to the next fun learning experience.

Now you have been primed for a discussion about something I truly hope none of my readers have to go through. I also know many of you will and many of you have or are going through this. I can only say, I am beginning to understand. When a loved one starts to loose touch with reality it is a process similar to the discovery of cancer. Many emotions and feelings surface. It is hard to describe the helplessness. Disbelief, Denial, Anger, Sadness,Confusion, and Loss; I believe I am scratching the surface here and the order may be different for we are dealing with individuals.

If I think about it long enough or pull out the obituary I can give an exact date, but the date is not important, the experience is. My grandmother was about 70 years old when she died. She suffered from dementia. I didn’t know a lot about her, she and I were distant at best. I only know of one grandchild she was close to and I didn’t care for him. This same grandson who, in her eyes, could do no wrong ultimately assisted with her demise. At the time Sammy was an easy target, he was all you want in a villain; unattractive, fat, not intelligent but a conniver. My maternal grandmother was an unhappy individual; she had nine children, I do not know that she ever embraced motherhood, for I saw her later in life. She was a stout woman about 5’3″, she had long silky hair and high cheekbones, her skin-tone had a copper red color to it characteristic of her Native American bloodline. I think my grandma was dutiful and of all the things a mother teaches her child if one thing/action/word gets to sum up the experience of being related, that would do it for my grandma and my mom.

Grandma helped out of a sense of obligation. This woman who taught me to cook and of whom I shared a room with, I know little more of her than the story she told of my uncle biting her which resulted in the end of his breast feeding. I cannot recall her saying she loved me or any of her grandchildren, I choose to believe that was because she felt this emotion was understood. I lived with her for seven years with my family. When she grew tired of us being there, she became mean and invasive. She never said,”Get out!” she showed it. Did she intend on being mean, that is debatable, what I do know/feel/believe is she was at a place that told her she should be afforded her way(willfulness much like that of a child) and if she did NOT get her way she was angry, she would pout, be unreasonable, or throw a tantrum. Yet in the end the child she treated badly, was the one who visited and tended to her at the nursing home everyday until she departed this life.

How can you recover from that, will you ever be able to rectify this or even acknowledge you were wrong or sorry. I don’t know how my mother felt about her mother, there was a coldness to grandma and I think she transferred some of that coldness to my mother. Mom was sad and she cried when grandma passed, but as I look back it seems like it was the thing to do, to be sad. I know I don’t want my grandchildren to think about me like this way, and in some ways it seems to be in my DNA. I am here to tell you, I fight this attitude daily and consciously. I tell myself ,” Don’t be sour, no one wants to be around a mean old woman.” I love my family openly and freely..unless they suffer memory loss they will not think of me and say,” I wonder if mom/abuela loved me/us?” I tell them everyday and each time  I see them I tell them it more.

One can believe what one wants, but stress can kill you. Putting undue pressure on yourself regarding things that are out of your control is senseless, it drains the very life out of us. The older we get the more difficult it is for us to return to a normal state. Thus being older and angry is NOT a place you want to be. The good is hard to remember when the bad is slapping you in the face. We have no control over what ultimately will be our condition physically, but what we do have charge over, we should take very seriously and guard it with all that is in us. Be pleasant, smile and think happy thoughts. Once it is gone there really is no turning back; not for you, not for the ones who you love.

Posted in Order of Appearance and tagged , ,
04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part III

When I think about childhood and youth, I think of silliness, laughter, fun, and appreciation for the simple. There is a time allotted for pretending and games. Through our experience in childhood we are preparing for our adult lives. Think about yours; the good, the happy, the uncomfortable and even some of the bad, that’s life right.

My children were raised and grew up in a way that was vastly different from my experience. Simply rearing and girl versus rearing a boy, there are many, many things that can be touched upon. However, there is a task at hand that must be addressed and it is “A View From Inside”.

My childhood was sheltered and safe. We lived on a quiet street in Kansas City, Kansas and my paternal grandmother, aunt, and uncle were two doors down across that same street. We had ten pairs of familial eyes upon us most everyday. We walked to school, in Kansas and later in California. There were boundaries set, my mother was a stay at home mom. She knew where we were at all times and we knew it was our job to make sure she did not have to do more than call out our names in order to find us.

We moved to California when I was 7 years old; sometime between my earliest recollections and that move a little “colored” girl was kidnapped, and it made the evening news. I remember the event because kidnapping did not happen a lot or you did not hear about it like you do now, I remember she was from Missouri(Kansas City has a Kansas and Missouri side) and a white man was the one who did it. I remember this because she had a little brother who witnessed the event, and he recounted the information to his parents and the police. This story did not have a happy ending, and I remember that I was introduced to a fear that I never had known before.

I grew up in the 1960’s race was NOT discussed in my home with us until we were much older. This was the case in spite of the fact that my father’s brother was the president of the ;local NAACP and was friends with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I did not know this or how important and potentially dangerous that was until after the assassinations began. Remember race was not discussed with us children until we were older. We had our place and it was not in adult conversations. I knew the difference of course, but I didn’t know any white people at that time, unless you counted my grandmother. She by-the-way was not white but simply had the complexion of.

In spite of what is reported on the news, or what is characterized on television, in the movies, etc. black people hold their children near and dear to their hearts. Black parents are over-protective and over zealous at times, but that comes from a history that made them adapt for survival. YES I SAID PARENTS!

I think back of the rules of the day with my parents; being visible or within earshot, the corporal punishment( I can say/admit most if not all I was at fault), the lectures( I better discipline you now than the white man later). I am not unique, but that was some heavy shit to put on a child. However, this part is about childhood and childhood shapes us into who we are as adults.

My parents were not hateful, but they were protective of us. Whatever one may think of corporal punishment, lack of racial discussion( barring the one about punishment later in life coming from the ever present yet elusive “white man”) ; my parents managed to stay married happily till the day my father died, raise four children( none of who were ever incarcerated nor teen parents), buy a home, and live to see their grandchildren. A slice of Americana, glamorized, marketed, denied to many people of color and TOLD it is THEIR fault as to why they do not have it.

We hold our babies near and dear; our hearts ache because they do NOT get the opportunity to just be children, because we live with the very real threat that they may not survive childhood. That is EVERY parents nightmare, to outlive their child. When a 12 year old with a toy is shot dead because of a toy in 2014, when a 14 year old is tortured and killed for a “wolf whistle” and a smart comment 59 years ago and all the other stories you heard about in between. The fear is warranted, the threat is real. I tell myself my children grew up in a world different than mine, but is it really?

My children grew up in Palos Verdes, California and Alpharetta, Georgia; white suburban heaven and havens, aesthetically pleasing, economically privileged, but the underlying feeling from most of our neighbors was “What are YOU doing here, oh that’s right affirmative action”. Damn we couldn’t even feel safe with all of that.

We shook our heads in disbelief when we saw children barely more than toddlers riding bikes in the middle of the street with no sign of a parent/their parent anywhere in sight. As time went on realization of ,”What do they really have to worry about” came to us. Their children are afforded the ability to make mistakes that kill off our babies daily. Imagine that, a child who actual has an opportunity to be a child; not a being who has that magical time of exploration and beauty tainted and poisoned with real fear, eminent threats, and horror.

Black people ARE angry; we DO love our children and we hold them in the highest esteem. A prank, youthful exuberance, or a traffic violation should NOT hold a death sentence that can be carried out by anyone carrying a gun, night stick, or possessing the acceptable skin tone.

Posted in How We Relate and tagged ,
04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part II

My beautiful friends. I say that from a literal standpoint. I am a Libra, I revel in that. Libras have an affinity for beauty, the finer things. However, I have been blessed with people in my life who have the inner beauty as well as the outer. I look at them and enjoy their company. They remind me that there is still quite a bit of good out there in the world.. When the ugliness come to the forefront. I know I have secret weapons in my life.

I met the real life version of “Alice In Wonderland” when I was 22 years old. I had been raised in a predominately black suburban environment, so my contact with white people my age directly did not really happen until college.

Let’s call my friend, Dena. There are others I mention(Kim B., Cyndi H., Rachel F.) who I did NOT care for and they will get No love or respect, their names and ugliness will be out there.  If Disney needed a model for Alice, Dena was it. Dena came to work with me at my second real job for a large retail drug chain in their administrative offices. It was strange she and I took a liking to one another. As time went on and we discovered our backgrounds it would become more logical as well as illogical that we did become “friends”. I trained Dena, we had lunch together, we exchanged gifts. Odd as it seems we did not go out much or have each other’s phone number. However, that was 33 years ago, memory may not be exact.

Dena was younger than I was and single. She was a California girl who as the result of divorced found herself in Salt Lake City, Utah. We laughed over lunch how her primitive classmates asked, “If she had ever seen a real black person before and what were they like?” We never found irony in our being friends, at least we never discussed it. Dena was a Mormon too.

One day Dena quit the job, we did a farewell lunch and cake for her ( I was in charge of the festivities because everyone KNEW we were close) and I never saw or heard from her again. I didn’t feel hurt or cheated. I was not surprised she divorced herself from her experience with the job, and me for that matter. However, I remember her. She was in my opinion “kinda pretty”. She had gorgeous long blonde hair, ANYONE would envy. She was a nice, fun, kind person. I wish we had remained or actually became real friends, I think we could have learned a lot from one another.

In spite of my upbringing, environment, and late interaction with white people on a personal level, Dena was not my first “BLONDE friend”. She was also not my last nor was she my only. I wonder what they thought beyond conversations we had about subject matter, which did in fact transcend race. I do NOT believe they befriend me because of or even in spite of race. My being black, like their being white, came as a interesting as-a-matter-of-fact snippet. I LOVE that about those “friendships” too. I have always connected with PEOPLE based on a vibe, the energy their souls give off. I know that I am not unusual in that. Let me generalize here;  black people have to go by what their inner eye tells them, white people by and large are performers/chameleons(Kim B., Cyndi H., Rachel F.) . Therefore I also recognize many of these connections were simply associations rather than friendships. They were relationships though and you have to start somewhere.

Posted in How We Relate and tagged ,
04 Dec 2014
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A View From Inside-Part I

I awake and my mind is generally a blank canvass. It has only thoughts of the rituals of the morning. I yawn. I stretch. I make myself aware of any pains or aches I am suffering from. If there are none that goes unnoticed. There are a few plans like this is the day I have to drop a piece of dry cleaning off, or my hair appointment is at 2:00, but overall I have no master plan to take over, ruin the life of, or hate. I JUST WANT TO LIVE.

I don’t ask for happy, I desire content; I want my family safe and happy, for with them rests my true happiness. I pray for that daily. This all goes on in about 2 seconds after I  rise in the morning. Often times there is even more, but the gist of this is, it doesn’t take long and I still have 23 hours 59 minutes and 58 seconds left in any given day. What happens during the rest of that time?

I cannot speak for all black people, but I think ALL people want some of/many of the same things in life. Just because I am black does not mean I have a inside track to the workings of ALL or most of my fellow black people’s agenda. What I have is shared experiences, as white people have with one another. What is ironic, seemingly to some if not many white people, is that we also share those same experience with the white population as well. What we don’t always share in vastly disproportionate levels, is the injustices we STILL suffer and that is race based.

I have to say to myself when something bad happens is it because of the circumstances or is it because I am black. White people who say, black people are always bringing up race want you to believe that THEY do not think there is a race problem to address. To ME that is code for,”It doesn’t concern me and mine so I don’t really care about it or care to talk about it..” Take note ignoring “it” won’t make it go away AND just because YOU don’t use the “N” word does not mean you are not prejudiced.

Prior to the Ronald Reagan Era being prejudiced was not thought of in high regards. He/his policies/his administration told white people on the fringes of being down right racist, it is okay NOT to like other races typically blacks, and that being overt in those feelings was acceptable. The standard,”Some of my best friends are black” changed to, ” None of my friends are black and I  am glad about that”.

I hated Ronald Reagan. I grew up in Southern California, I watched this horrible”c” movie actor become governor of a great state and try to change it’s dynamic. Republicans don’t do well in Cali..too much ocean and free spirit out there to be clouded with the narrow-minded thought patterns. You look at the Pacific and think.. “Yeah it’s all good”. When he became President he followed a time of massive change the decades that preceded him had been tumultuous but people were trying to get along AND like one another. As lame as the 1970’s are thought of.. folks were having”Nice Days” complete with “smiley faces”.

HE brought with him, his crotchety old body in full theatrical make-up, old  cranky thoughts and ideas. Forget about the new and young, keep things the same way we old, mean, dying folks like it, because it is familiar and WE don’t like change. He managed to regurgitate ugliness and fear. Then it started reproducing.

Back to the matter at hand, A View From Inside.. as you venture in, you find each small subject matter takes on a life of it’s own.  It has to, because to gain understanding you have to “be there”. Ronald Reagan took up three paragraphs and could have involved more, because he was in my opinion a catalyst of something I selected to write about. He affected my ability to just navigate throughout the atmosphere of life without the worry of an apex predator; which now comes in the form of a job turn down, being cut off in traffic, my child not being selected for the lead in the school play, or false arrest waiting to devour me and mine. Not because he is hungry, but because I am there.

Posted in How We Relate and tagged ,
01 Dec 2014
2 Comments

Channeling Negative Energy

I felt like I was going to explode! Pressure coming up my esophagus, my chest slightly tight, the awful grimace in my face. I tell myself I want to be happy, but it seems there is a dark cloud hovering. How do you make yourself feel good when you are feeling bad? My thoughts were of all the things that were not going right. I need my little ray of sunshine, but I will not see her for a couple more days. Then the feeling I often return to..escape. I think of how would it be to just walk away. When you find yourself beyond the half century mark, your mental state is so controlling of your physical state. In youth heart palpitations were exciting and generally directed toward an “object of affection”, now you may really be having a heart attack.

Here come the challenges again. They are in my small intimate world and the big pubic one. My “golden years” are set to begin in 11 short months( I can say 9 because I get to start the ball rolling next August). Am I expecting and anticipating too much? What if it is a disappointment, what if I cannot survive on the monthly pension, what if I have to work… I ask these questions and then I give myself a psychological shaking. There is good here, there is something/plenty to look forward to.

No matter what happens each day you are afforded another opportunity to make changes, because you have by the grace of God awakened.That should be viewed as the gift it is. I won’t allow myself to be captured and controlled by this negativity. That means somehow I have to be able to interject some positive. I have to channel that negative energy and put it to work for me. As bad as it makes me/you feel demonstrates it is strong and can therefore be utilized.  Prayer, meditation…helps clear that wonderful organ and allows it to work on what it was designed to do; think, figure out problems, or just calm our systems down and return them to the intended settings, in order for us to function properly. You have to sometimes walk yourself away from the things that are going on, even if it is just in your mind, and let your soul feel better.

Posted in Ecumenically Speaking and tagged ,
28 Oct 2014
1 Comment

The Best Way You Can

“I did my best, but I guess my best wasn’t good enough..” Have you ever felt like this? Have you ever felt this way towards someone. I will not allow myself to visit a place that will confirm I have felt the latter. I know the truth.  Besides it is much easier to live with yourself if you can say you are the tragic one.

I want to speak from the perspective of an individual who realized someone gave their best. What I had to come to grips with was that this individual gave it a “scouts-try”, in spite of me never giving credit for that try, that effort. I was too busy pointing fingers and giving examples of what “I” thought should happen. At the oddest moment things became clear to me, as though I was emerging from a fog.

We all have different talents and skill levels, sometimes we get caught up in what our opinions and perspectives are, we forget that there are other factors involved. In the midst of your self-absorbed righteousness perhaps a pause will allow you to observe something you my have discounted and/or overlooked. Then you will begin to be able to see that which you claim no one else can understand; that someone else does matter, someone else does count.

Therefore when you do your best, even if your best may not appear to be good enough, nothing can be more rewarding then knowing this in your heart, and in reality you are one-up on a whole lot of people who don’t even give a half try.

Posted in Quickbits and tagged ,

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