The first time I thought about it, it was so scary I pushed it out of my mind.
When the thought returned, I decided to hold it and turn it around like a glowing orb of promise.
Let me back up for a minute: I've often been accused of thinking too deep, of picking stuff apart for deeper meaning to understand its source and my own enlightenment. Still, it drove some people crazy although my family and close friends appreciate me being the one who performs the thought autopsies on the events of the day.
That being said, the original thought was this: Sen. Obama's acceptance speech tonight coincides with another milestone speech given in what could be his future city of residence. But the real connection for me is not that speech, but the speech given the night before Martin Luther King Jr. died. The one where he talked about the mountaintop and looking over into the promised land.
"I may not get there with you," he said. "He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land," he said. "But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land."
Is Denver the mountaintop King looked over? Did he see this before any of us could dream of it?
The first time the word "mountaintop" rang in my ear before the convention, it sent a chill through me so I went and read the end of King's speech and there it was, to me a clear foretelling of tonight's momentous occasion.
If I'm right, if I grasped the significance of where we are and what will happen, maybe I feel the same sense of urgency Muhammad Ali felt when he got his wife to pull strings to get him a seat at the convention. This is something not to miss, to be present for not for the pageantry, not for the politics, but for the inhalation of the scent of liberty, of closing your eyes and just being in the moment and where you are at that moment and what it says about the time in which you're living. The life you're living, for that matter, and whether you're deserving of a chance to change your life and step in a new direction on your own mountaintop.
Barack Obama and Martin Luther King and Muhammad Ali all stepped away from the conveyor belt of normalcy and created their own "new way of walking" into their future. When will you begin your new walk, create your new history? I'm plotting my new map now although I don't know where I want to go or where He wants me to be but I know my mountaintop's out there waiting for my conquering flag....
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Who am I? Why am I here?
In the middle of a recent job interview, I suddenly felt like the late Adm. James Stockdale. At his only debate as a vice-presidential candidate, he asked the questions above.
While I carefully dissected why I wanted this job and explain the answer in a detached but intellectual manner to my interviewers, it occurred to me that I had lost my way... again.
Feeling 11 years ago that journalism was my true calling, I dove headfirst on the fast track to becoming a prolific writer. You gotta understand, I started this new chapter of my life at the age of 44. From that cloud, I tried to think and negotiate ways of getting to a successful point in my life as quickly as possible because 1) I felt older just looking around my classroom before I graduated in 1992 and 2) the gnawing reminder that my mother worried herself into an early grave at the age of 56. I wanted to use God's gift of writing to reach and change the lives of as many people as I could before my late restart and family history of heart disease caught up with me. So I pushed and I moved to two more states in my quest to live my dream of what I thought becoming a good journalist meant.
When the career rug was pulled from under me last February, I didn't realize that I was chasing the dream so hard I lost parts of me in the process. Eventually, the person I saw in the mirror was the same person who at one time signed her checks "Mrs. Kenneth Rhone" instead of the name my parents gave me. I lost my identity trying to find a new one.
Killer part is I like me. I didn't try to lose who I was to become the person I thought I wanted to be, the person they wanted me to be. I got caught up in personal rejection instead of professional expediency as they told me I wasn't good enough to be who I thought I was.
At one point, I found myself crying in front of a grocery store employment kiosk because I thought I needed to just find a job, any job, to prove my worth. To have somebody say, yes, we want you.
But that's not who I am. I am loved. God loves me, regardless of my skills or my potential. But I stopped loving myself because of the difficulty of rejection in this whole job finding process.
But as I sat across from three smiling people who genuinely seemed interested in me and my life, I had the epiphany that it wasn't their approval I was seeking (except the job. The job is killer and I'd love to wrap myself in it). I needed to find a way to validate myself so I talked about things that mattered to me, how I really saw my potential and my history of helping others and it occurred to me that that's what was missing. I stopped helping other people. I lived for the feeling of seeing myself doing good in the world and you can't give hugs at a pity party.
Service in God's name. I fired myself from that job and the vacancy was still open. I could recapture that spirit of giving of myself, my thoughts, my skills, my empathy, me, and get back to the business of spreading God's love and His message of doing for others again.
Okay, God. I'm back. Ma, your advice was right: there is nobody better than me.
I'm ready to restart the journey now, Lord. To live off the nectar of serving others gave me more pleasure than any cut of prime rib (and I loves me some prime rib) and I want that taste back on the tongue of my spirit.
I'm ready to start smiling again....
While I carefully dissected why I wanted this job and explain the answer in a detached but intellectual manner to my interviewers, it occurred to me that I had lost my way... again.
Feeling 11 years ago that journalism was my true calling, I dove headfirst on the fast track to becoming a prolific writer. You gotta understand, I started this new chapter of my life at the age of 44. From that cloud, I tried to think and negotiate ways of getting to a successful point in my life as quickly as possible because 1) I felt older just looking around my classroom before I graduated in 1992 and 2) the gnawing reminder that my mother worried herself into an early grave at the age of 56. I wanted to use God's gift of writing to reach and change the lives of as many people as I could before my late restart and family history of heart disease caught up with me. So I pushed and I moved to two more states in my quest to live my dream of what I thought becoming a good journalist meant.
When the career rug was pulled from under me last February, I didn't realize that I was chasing the dream so hard I lost parts of me in the process. Eventually, the person I saw in the mirror was the same person who at one time signed her checks "Mrs. Kenneth Rhone" instead of the name my parents gave me. I lost my identity trying to find a new one.
Killer part is I like me. I didn't try to lose who I was to become the person I thought I wanted to be, the person they wanted me to be. I got caught up in personal rejection instead of professional expediency as they told me I wasn't good enough to be who I thought I was.
At one point, I found myself crying in front of a grocery store employment kiosk because I thought I needed to just find a job, any job, to prove my worth. To have somebody say, yes, we want you.
But that's not who I am. I am loved. God loves me, regardless of my skills or my potential. But I stopped loving myself because of the difficulty of rejection in this whole job finding process.
But as I sat across from three smiling people who genuinely seemed interested in me and my life, I had the epiphany that it wasn't their approval I was seeking (except the job. The job is killer and I'd love to wrap myself in it). I needed to find a way to validate myself so I talked about things that mattered to me, how I really saw my potential and my history of helping others and it occurred to me that that's what was missing. I stopped helping other people. I lived for the feeling of seeing myself doing good in the world and you can't give hugs at a pity party.
Service in God's name. I fired myself from that job and the vacancy was still open. I could recapture that spirit of giving of myself, my thoughts, my skills, my empathy, me, and get back to the business of spreading God's love and His message of doing for others again.
Okay, God. I'm back. Ma, your advice was right: there is nobody better than me.
I'm ready to restart the journey now, Lord. To live off the nectar of serving others gave me more pleasure than any cut of prime rib (and I loves me some prime rib) and I want that taste back on the tongue of my spirit.
I'm ready to start smiling again....
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Don't blink
I'm trying not to blink at John McCain's run for the White House because I think I've already missed something. I missed the explanations on how he's a war hero and that he has the experience to lead a country.
War hero? He got shot down and spent years as a captive. He didn't risk his life, didn't save anybody's life. He even admitted in his own book that he was close to suicide because of his personal failures.
Experience? He has no business experience. Never ran a corporation. Did some reaching across the aisle but talking for the sake of talking is not leadership, it's ass kissing.
Now he's acting like the crusty old man down the street that makes fun of the kids and takes their kickball in the house when it comes over his fence.
The edgy old guy or the new black guy: who you gonna invite to the dance?
War hero? He got shot down and spent years as a captive. He didn't risk his life, didn't save anybody's life. He even admitted in his own book that he was close to suicide because of his personal failures.
Experience? He has no business experience. Never ran a corporation. Did some reaching across the aisle but talking for the sake of talking is not leadership, it's ass kissing.
Now he's acting like the crusty old man down the street that makes fun of the kids and takes their kickball in the house when it comes over his fence.
The edgy old guy or the new black guy: who you gonna invite to the dance?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Oh Lord, I don't want to be in that number
...when the unemployed go marching in.
Well, at least now you don't have to suffer the humility of sitting for hours in a cavernous room where an overworked state worker calls out the names of the unfortunate to talk about why you don't have a job yet. You can look for a job and file for unemployment all from the discomforted convenience of your home computer.
For the record, I have not been without a job since my daughter was a toddler and she's now in her 30s. As of next week, it will have been three months since I drew a paycheck.
Today, I find myself in front of my computer daily cybersitting in the world's unemployment office trying to get a gig. Filling out online applications. Trying to write an upbeat, killer cover letter to become at least worthy of an interview. To date, I've only been tapped four times out of the 60-plus apps I've filled out since I stopped signing onto another computer.
I'm usually the one who does the interviewing so it's weird to have to formulate an answer for someone who might rather be back at their desk than talking to your sorry jobless ass.
One day I got three reject letters in mailbox: you suck, you still suck and you must be kidding why the hell did you apply for this job when you know we already had somebody lined up.
But there I am, cheerfully telling this stranger why I am the best person for the job. Lots of smiles, a little wry humor, a lot of earnestness and dedication to doing a phenomenal job doing the do for them. Then there's the form letter last week from a guy whose job I applied for back in May who I guess realized there was one last bug on his desk he didn't thump off: me.
Now comes word from the Dept. of Labor saying there are 366,000 similarly situated people out there who are trying to find work. I raised my hand when they made the announcement on TV this morning. Jesus...
But I don't want to be in that number. My son will tell you how many times I've snapped at him, how many times I've forgotten to keep my cell phone with me. Yesterday, I turned on the coffeemaker with the filter door open and walked away, water flying everywhere until he closed it for me.
They talk about how people go "postal" and start shooting people after they lose their job. Fortunately for the world, I'm too Christian to go out like that but I understand the murder-suicide motivation for people who get their mailbox stuffed with reject letters or worse, dead silence from employers who can't be bothered to drop a reject form letter in the mail to add to the stack of past due notices.
Still, trouble don't last always and I am a faithful woman so I continue to plug away across the Internets sending cheery news of my availability to "match my skills to your requirements for the job."
Still Lord, I don't want to be in that number where you're truly living unemployment paycheck to paycheck....
Well, at least now you don't have to suffer the humility of sitting for hours in a cavernous room where an overworked state worker calls out the names of the unfortunate to talk about why you don't have a job yet. You can look for a job and file for unemployment all from the discomforted convenience of your home computer.
For the record, I have not been without a job since my daughter was a toddler and she's now in her 30s. As of next week, it will have been three months since I drew a paycheck.
Today, I find myself in front of my computer daily cybersitting in the world's unemployment office trying to get a gig. Filling out online applications. Trying to write an upbeat, killer cover letter to become at least worthy of an interview. To date, I've only been tapped four times out of the 60-plus apps I've filled out since I stopped signing onto another computer.
I'm usually the one who does the interviewing so it's weird to have to formulate an answer for someone who might rather be back at their desk than talking to your sorry jobless ass.
One day I got three reject letters in mailbox: you suck, you still suck and you must be kidding why the hell did you apply for this job when you know we already had somebody lined up.
But there I am, cheerfully telling this stranger why I am the best person for the job. Lots of smiles, a little wry humor, a lot of earnestness and dedication to doing a phenomenal job doing the do for them. Then there's the form letter last week from a guy whose job I applied for back in May who I guess realized there was one last bug on his desk he didn't thump off: me.
Now comes word from the Dept. of Labor saying there are 366,000 similarly situated people out there who are trying to find work. I raised my hand when they made the announcement on TV this morning. Jesus...
But I don't want to be in that number. My son will tell you how many times I've snapped at him, how many times I've forgotten to keep my cell phone with me. Yesterday, I turned on the coffeemaker with the filter door open and walked away, water flying everywhere until he closed it for me.
They talk about how people go "postal" and start shooting people after they lose their job. Fortunately for the world, I'm too Christian to go out like that but I understand the murder-suicide motivation for people who get their mailbox stuffed with reject letters or worse, dead silence from employers who can't be bothered to drop a reject form letter in the mail to add to the stack of past due notices.
Still, trouble don't last always and I am a faithful woman so I continue to plug away across the Internets sending cheery news of my availability to "match my skills to your requirements for the job."
Still Lord, I don't want to be in that number where you're truly living unemployment paycheck to paycheck....
Sunday, July 6, 2008
When did patriotism become a code word?
A recent discussion I heard on the radio was yet another version of one I've been hearing over and over since this spring: Is Barack Obama patriotic?
I listen to the talking heads try to give advice on what he should do to appease the growling flag pin huggers. One of my journalist friends even started a column with the dictionary definition of the word.
But it occurred to me while I was listening to Tavis Smiley's radio show that everybody may be missing the point. It's not a question of whether or not Sen. Obama loves his country. The question is whether he loves their country enough to not "turn it over" to blacks.
Maybe I read too much (my ex-husband always said I over-analyzed stuff) but there's a current current of thought that Obama's election will open the candy store for blacks in this country. That he will favor the whims of all black folks across the country and repress whites to get back at them for the slave trade. He'll order reparations and make affirmative action the rule in hiring and admissions and anything else he (or his people) can think of.
So that made me wonder whether patriotism is a code word for "can we trust you not to be a 'black president'" and force whites to actually live by the laws of equality and justice even when they're afraid they'll "suffer" for their actions.
While I have no personal history with the man, I believe Sen. Obama to be an honorable and fair man. He's smart enough to not even imagine the historically paranoid nightmare of a Bizarro-world kind of slavery where blacks are the slave holders. First of all, we don't want to be in charge like that. We just want to be in charge of our own lives and comfortably enjoy the rights our forefathers and mothers fought for.
If seeing him wear a flag pin calms fear of a black planet, so be it. If giving a speech on patriotism confirms his thought processes on the subject, go hard, Barack, and go home. Like Rick Nelson said, you can't please everyone so you gotta please yourself. Same with proving patriotism.
Here's another code word: faith, as in "faith is the evidence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
I have faith that Sen. Obama will lead this country with a steady hand and great discernment. We don't deserve him, but thank God we have this chance to change and bring peace to this country.
I listen to the talking heads try to give advice on what he should do to appease the growling flag pin huggers. One of my journalist friends even started a column with the dictionary definition of the word.
But it occurred to me while I was listening to Tavis Smiley's radio show that everybody may be missing the point. It's not a question of whether or not Sen. Obama loves his country. The question is whether he loves their country enough to not "turn it over" to blacks.
Maybe I read too much (my ex-husband always said I over-analyzed stuff) but there's a current current of thought that Obama's election will open the candy store for blacks in this country. That he will favor the whims of all black folks across the country and repress whites to get back at them for the slave trade. He'll order reparations and make affirmative action the rule in hiring and admissions and anything else he (or his people) can think of.
So that made me wonder whether patriotism is a code word for "can we trust you not to be a 'black president'" and force whites to actually live by the laws of equality and justice even when they're afraid they'll "suffer" for their actions.
While I have no personal history with the man, I believe Sen. Obama to be an honorable and fair man. He's smart enough to not even imagine the historically paranoid nightmare of a Bizarro-world kind of slavery where blacks are the slave holders. First of all, we don't want to be in charge like that. We just want to be in charge of our own lives and comfortably enjoy the rights our forefathers and mothers fought for.
If seeing him wear a flag pin calms fear of a black planet, so be it. If giving a speech on patriotism confirms his thought processes on the subject, go hard, Barack, and go home. Like Rick Nelson said, you can't please everyone so you gotta please yourself. Same with proving patriotism.
Here's another code word: faith, as in "faith is the evidence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
I have faith that Sen. Obama will lead this country with a steady hand and great discernment. We don't deserve him, but thank God we have this chance to change and bring peace to this country.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Getting the good kind of clap
During this year's presidential parade of candidates, I must confess I sometimes didn't listen to the speeches. I watched the crowd. Fascinating!
At first I searched for and counted faces of color. Then I studied concentration, to see if they were there just to be there or actually followed the cadence of their candidate. Sometimes small groups would waver or shutter like grass in the middle of an otherwise still crowd.
But then, I noticed something really different: almost every person has their own way of clapping.
Back in my teen years, I deliberately decided to clap with my hands slightly cupped and crisscrossed in order to produce a louder sound. Nobody else on the planet probably intentionally stylized how they would clap their hands besides me but I experimented until I got the right sound. Now, it's second nature to me and hasn't changed in 40 years.
But there, during somebody's rally, I watched and counted about eight different ways people clap. There may have been more but I started being creeped out watching other people so I stopped, but here are some examples:
*one woman lightly, daintily tapped her hands together like she wanted to participate but didn't want to offend
*one man almost seemed to be wristwrestling with himself as he pulled back his right elbow and repeatedly jammed one palm into the other as if to punish his exuberance
*another woman clapped her hands together as though they were cymbals, complete with retreating circles
*another kept her hands in close proximity and clapped vigorously like a speedy game of Patty Cake
There are more but I have to look away now, except to say I wonder if people's clapping styles mimic the way they live their lives....
At first I searched for and counted faces of color. Then I studied concentration, to see if they were there just to be there or actually followed the cadence of their candidate. Sometimes small groups would waver or shutter like grass in the middle of an otherwise still crowd.
But then, I noticed something really different: almost every person has their own way of clapping.
Back in my teen years, I deliberately decided to clap with my hands slightly cupped and crisscrossed in order to produce a louder sound. Nobody else on the planet probably intentionally stylized how they would clap their hands besides me but I experimented until I got the right sound. Now, it's second nature to me and hasn't changed in 40 years.
But there, during somebody's rally, I watched and counted about eight different ways people clap. There may have been more but I started being creeped out watching other people so I stopped, but here are some examples:
*one woman lightly, daintily tapped her hands together like she wanted to participate but didn't want to offend
*one man almost seemed to be wristwrestling with himself as he pulled back his right elbow and repeatedly jammed one palm into the other as if to punish his exuberance
*another woman clapped her hands together as though they were cymbals, complete with retreating circles
*another kept her hands in close proximity and clapped vigorously like a speedy game of Patty Cake
There are more but I have to look away now, except to say I wonder if people's clapping styles mimic the way they live their lives....
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
God in a card game
The title seems a little crazy but let me explain.
I've been having problems with my not-so high speed Internet access so I've developed a passion for the game FreeCell, one of those innocuous games that comes with Windows.
So I've been playing and playing and improving with each "hand" that's "dealt." It's a fun version of solitaire, in case you haven't played it. Anyway, I finally figured out that the object of the game is not just to get all the cards off the board. The object is to free all the aces first.
In my life, God is my ace. In the middle of sorting through my life, I realized that they best way to get a true path to satisfaction is to put Him first like I put getting the aces out first in FreeCell. Sometimes I'm not successful but I found out through trial and error that you can't win the game, you can't finish it, without having revealed all the aces and putting them in their rightful place. The other cards can go anywhere on the board but they can't come off the board before the ace in their suit does.
So I've decided to play my life like a game of solitaire: I'm the one who controls the cards but I know if I don't follow the correct steps, I won't win. The path is there; I just have to envision it and follow it to its conclusion and my success.
Who knew I could find His plan in a simple card game?
I've been having problems with my not-so high speed Internet access so I've developed a passion for the game FreeCell, one of those innocuous games that comes with Windows.
So I've been playing and playing and improving with each "hand" that's "dealt." It's a fun version of solitaire, in case you haven't played it. Anyway, I finally figured out that the object of the game is not just to get all the cards off the board. The object is to free all the aces first.
In my life, God is my ace. In the middle of sorting through my life, I realized that they best way to get a true path to satisfaction is to put Him first like I put getting the aces out first in FreeCell. Sometimes I'm not successful but I found out through trial and error that you can't win the game, you can't finish it, without having revealed all the aces and putting them in their rightful place. The other cards can go anywhere on the board but they can't come off the board before the ace in their suit does.
So I've decided to play my life like a game of solitaire: I'm the one who controls the cards but I know if I don't follow the correct steps, I won't win. The path is there; I just have to envision it and follow it to its conclusion and my success.
Who knew I could find His plan in a simple card game?
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