Relax into the Ride

     About a month ago, I had the pleasure of riding on the back of a motorcycle. (Yes, God's infinite wisdom kept me from even thinking I could actually ride solo!) The thought of a woman on the back of a motorcycle may conjure certain images or even memories for you but for me, this was a stand-alone event which would affect me in ways I never imagined.  First, it was a delight to be invited to literally 'come along for the ride' on that beautiful cool Saturday morning.  Errands are often more easily accomplished without any additional ballast to slow you down so, this was a chance to tag along and enjoy watching someone else complete his list of things to do. Second, I had not been on the back of a bike in such a long time, the pounding in my heart, throat and ears came not from excitement, but from fear. I had seen many motorcycle accidents on New Jersey's many highways. I had attended a funeral for a young man who lost his life to a horrific motorcycle accident.  Oh God! Not today, please! I just want to take this ride, be cute while riding and not walk funny when I swing my leg over the back of this bike when we finally reach our destination. I want to cross over to the other side someday, but not today!  Third, I had nothing to do that would serve as a legitimate excuse for saying no...so I accepted the invitation and proceeded to dress in layers so that the joy of the ride would not be lost to the bite of the wind!
     I pulled my fleece jacket over my head and smoothed my locs down as if to magically make them less voluminous.  I pulled that heavy black helmet onto my head and thought for a moment that the weight of it might break my neck before I could even get on the bike.  I prayed that the helmet would fit over all of my hair and it did and then I prayed that it would do its more important job of keeping me safe in the event of an accident. (It didn't have to!)  I forgot all about that plastic shield that would guard my eyes, nose, and mouth from wind, debris and bugs and I slathered on an extra coating of my Clinique superbalm moisturizing gloss to ward off any wind induced chapping.  I had to be prepared for that hair shampoo commercial moment when we would stop and I would remove the helmet, toss my lovely shoulder-blade length locs and smile for the camera. (Still waiting...)  Having done all of that vain and unnecessary prep work, I heard the roar of the engine and turned my head to see the bike slightly dip in my direction as I would imagine that a mighty steed would with Prince Charming holding the reins. I accepted the invitation and paused for a moment when I saw the small portion of padded black leather that had been set aside for me. (That's all the seat I get? Hmm, this should be interesting!)  I put my hand on Prince Charming's shoulder and hoisted my right leg over the slim back tire and quickly found the foot rests that had been let out for me and I found a comfortable posture for riding.  Finally, we would leave the parking lot!

     Now, some of you may imagine or know that one of the perks of riding on the back of a bike is that you have the opportunity to lean in close to the driver because you really like the person or you think that this will provide some additional safety and stability.  At first, I thought that I would be clinging and clutching for dear life for the entire ride...not as a romantic gesture, but purely for health and safety reasons.  As we crested the small hill that leads out of the complex and onto the road, a strange thought crept into my helmet-clad head. Suddenly, I thought, "Don't Cling." Clinging is the act of holding on to something with an incredibly tight grip. Clinging is firmly rooted in fear.  If I hold tight enough, maybe I can keep _______________ (him, her, it, my balance...fill in the blank).  Clinging also carries a connotation of possessiveness.  It involves a tight grip which may be rooted in entitlement. My inclination to cling to my very strong, capable and experienced driver revealed my sense of entitlement to safety, not romance - safety!  I must have forgotten that the laws of physics have few loopholes, if any, and clinging does not grant one immunity to those rules. If we were going to take a spill, clinging would not have saved my life or kept us out of harm's way.
     At that very moment, I realized that I was clinging and with only one city block behind us and a four lane highway ahead of us, I let go...but just a little bit! My mind went back to my meditation practice and I remember thinking, "Just relax into the ride."  What I initially thought would make the ride more precarious actually made it more enjoyable. I felt myself settling into my own small section of that leather seat and enjoying the sound of rushing wind muted by my hundred-pound helmet. I was abandoning all inclinations to cling to my driver and I was free to rest my hands on his waist or his legs instead of looking like I had assumed the position for the Heimlich maneuver.  As we rode along the highway, I felt free enough to look around and peek over his shoulder at the speedometer and  I marveled at the very idea that as we leaned into turns at relatively high speeds, I could just relax without fear of falling off of the bike.  This was a great ride and a wonderful lesson.
    What began as a fun Saturday afternoon activity turned into a life lesson for me.  I have learned that on the back of a bike and in this life, I will enjoy the ride much more if and when I am able to relax into the ride and find myself supported by what I cannot see.  Sometimes, it is good to just come along for the ride and let something bigger and more capable than you handle the complicated details of transportation.  How odd it seems to be more secure, more stable, more rooted, after loosening my grip.  How counter-intuitive it seems and yet how wonderfully it works.  What are you clinging to? What things, people, situations have strangle marks from the tight grip of your fingers? Test the theory and loosen your grip and see what happens.  I have learned not only to let go of things but also to watch my hands to make sure I don't accidentally choke the life out of someone or something in my life.  Relax into the ride...you'll enjoy it so much more. In this case, you're going to have to lose your grip in order to really get a grip!
   

The Art of the Blessing

      Blessings are on my mind today. Actually, blessings are on my mind most days but there are different kinds of blessings aren't there? There are the material or tangible blessings and then there are the blessings that we bestow with our words and deeds.  When I worked at a Christian school with a student body of approximately 40 students, we would have weekly chapel services and I would always begin with an invocation and end with a benediction. I explained that the benediction was the final good word. I wanted them to know that there was always a good word spoken for and over them and in their hearing. I can remember the importance of blessings in my early religious training in the Black Baptist Church. We never dismissed from Sunday School or choir rehearsal without some words of blessing or benediction being spoken.  The words did not have to be uttered by one with a degree from seminary. All one needed was the knowledge of these words, "May the Lord watch between me and thee while we're absent one from another. Amen."  It was that simple. Upon saying or hearing those words, we all knew that a blessing had been offered. We had been commended into the care of the Almighty with a promise of coming together again.   

     I am of the opinion that words have power. We can use our words to cause harm and pain or we can use our words to bring peace and healing.  We may take lightly the words, "Thank you! Have a nice day!" when we hear them at the end of an exchange of funds for services, but in effect, that is a blessing.  Saying good morning to loved ones upon rising and saying good night before drifting off to sleep is a form of blessing. I do not need to don my clergy collar to bestow a blessing upon my daughter as she goes off to school.  A simple, "Bye honey! Have a good day!" will do.  This strikes me today because I recently let a loved one leave my presence with words that were far from a wish for God's blessings.  (I do not want to linger on the subject of cursing but please note that there is a big difference between saying Good bye, God Bless, I love you, and "Don't let the doorknob hit you where the Good Lord split you!" Can you tell which is the blessing?)  I can and did pray that God's blessings will follow my loved one, but there is a different power in conferring that blessing from my mouth to my loved one's ear.  I have seen the anguish of far too many mourners who reflect on the last words that they uttered before losing the beloved one.  In the midst of our greatest hurts and pains, can we find a simple way to always give our blessing? I say yes. It can be a simple as whispering, Adios (Spanish for 'To God'), Adieu (French for 'To God'), or "Vaya con Dios" (Go with God) in place of the ever popular "Go to Hell!"  If your loved one asked you for a blessing and bowed her head before you, would you invoke the evils of the world upon her? Of course not.  You would ask the Almighty for the good and perfect gifts that have been promised.  Even when you don't want that someone to leave, remember to send him or her off with a word of blessing because you never know if their departure or their return will come back to you as a blessing!

     When I think of words of blessing, I think of the words of the 23rd Psalm where the Psalmist speaks of God's blessings.  "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over" (Psalm 23:5 KJV).  As I read that, I see the oil coursing down on my own head and I think of the consistency of oil. I think of the slow moving, viscous oil clinging to my head and it makes me think of the words that stick to me in the same way. An oil blessing of "I love you" will cling to my mind and strengthen me in the midst of my day.  An oil blessing of "Thank you" clings to me and reminds me to not only give but to receive graciously.  An oil blessing of "God Bless you" clings to me and carries me beyond the borders of self-reliance. An oil blessing of "I'm proud of you" grips me and encourages me to always do my best work. An oil blessing also allows the words of cursing to slide right down my back. Hurl your best insults and curses at me because my head has been annointed with the oil of blessing. Those words cannot cling to me because of the protection of my oil blessings! What words of oil blessing can you bestow upon someone today? Draw upon the Source for the words when you have none. I have included this clip of Lalah Hathaway singing "Don't Forget to Remember (where your blessings come from)."  When my well of words for blessing runs dry, I remember where my words of blessing come from and I can offer blessings from my cup which is always in a state of overflow.



I will leave you with this Irish blessing....until next time, shalom!
"May God give you...For every storm a rainbow, for every tear a smile, for every care a promise and a blessing in each trial. For every problem life sends, a faithful friend to share, for every sigh a sweet song and an answer for each prayer."

(Not) For All Intents and Purposes

"Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes." Theodore Dreiser    

     Please allow me to begin with words of gratitude to those who read the last blog entry.  Thank you so very much!  I am grateful for your overwhelming responses on the topic of depression. After reading and hearing the comments that were shared via email or in private conversations, I realized that I had indeed chosen my topic wisely and I am glad that it resonated with so many people.  I invite you to always feel free to send a comment to me on this blog and rest assured that if you do not want it published, I will certainly respect your privacy and I will not post it. I would, however, like to encourage you to share your wisdom with each other. There was great sharing behind the scenes of that last post that could have had a wider impact if shared here.  Just know that I always welcome your comments whether public or private!
   
     For a few weeks, I thought that I would be writing more on the topic of depression, however, I discovered that I am not writing this blog as much as it is "writing me." By that, I simply mean that as time passes and as events unfold, the purpose for my writing always seeks and finds me. I do not have to do the exhausting work of controlling the outcome. (Yes, clutch the pearls, I am working on releasing that whole control freak thing...one day at a time, Sweet Jesus!) The relevant issue always presents itself and works its way into my brain until I realize, "Oh! That's why I'm thinking about that so much! It must be time to write!"
     So, I am sitting at the square black card table that doubles as both desk and dining room table and I find myself concerned with the intent and purpose for my blog. Those of us who find ourselves multitasking often use technology to aid us in our race to get it all done in the most efficient manner. My telephone not only sends and receives calls, but also has texting capability, can access the internet, serves as a GPS for when I can't find the nearest Target or Starbucks, and of course, can alert me to every inane post that pops up on Facebook.  My phone cannot make dinner but it can make reservations!  This device certainly serves a multitude of intents and purposes.  I have no plans to make this blog work that hard.
     I have recently learned about the value of setting intentions for each day.  These are not the same as goals, but rather, reminders of what is important in your life.  Intentions allow us to put our values in line with our actions.  (I intend to provide my family with nutritious food, so I will shop for fresh ingredients and cook at home instead of racing to a drive-up window for ground gristle on a bun with ketchup.) This blog is not for all intents and purposes but rather for one purpose.  My purpose for this season is to give expression to what I find to be common threads that people want to talk about but have no words or forum for doing so.  Many of my friends and loved ones suffer from "holding-it-in-itis" because they are afraid that they are the only ones who have these issues. They have never heard anyone else speak of these things. Enough already! We were not created to endure lives of silent pain and suffering.  My hope is to give us a start-up vocabulary that will ignite conversations and move us to a place of better understanding and greater compassion for ourselves and for each other. My intent is to move us to a place of healing and wholeness by playing Pin the Name on the Nemesis!  Some cultures and religions refuse to invoke the Almighty by name because the Almighty is too large, too expansive, too awesome to capture in a name.  There is power in the ability to name something or someone.  So why are we giving away our power to our unnamed enemies?  If I don't call it depression, I can't treat the depression. If I don't call it bullying, I can't treat the symptoms and stop the bullying.  If I don't call it sin, then I can't and won't repent!  If I don't call it forgiveness, I can't accept it or extend it. The ability to name is the ability to have some power over a thing or situation.  My intent is to help us find words for those things in our lives which once left us speechless and paralyzed.
     I can clearly remember my experience in the Cultural Hermeneutics course at Princeton Seminary.  I can remember sitting in the front of the cold lecture hall week after week and wiping tears away while trying to take notes at the same time.  I remember the overwhelming feeling of relief that washed over me as I heard my professors soothing my raw emotions with their well chosen words. I remember the shock that accompanied the realization that people had actually done research and written volumes on these untamed notions which had been taunting me for so long.  I remember apologizing to my professors for my weekly weeping during class and more importantly, I remember each of them reassuring me and letting me know that I was 'okay' but I had to be mindful of these strong feelings when I left the hallowed halls of academia and went out to "do ministry." I was not the first, nor would I be the last to react so strongly to what had been unnoticed and unnamed in my life for so long.  These feelings were not unique to me but were more common than I ever imagined and now that I was armed with new tools, I had to join the fight to Name and Disarm the Nemesis! Dr. Blount and Dr. Taylor put my feelings into an intellectual arena which provided me with the opportunity to reflect on, argue with, engage and NAME those same old feelings. These bold professors gave those feelings a shape and an identity so that they could live or die - having a full life cycle instead of a period of vague anonymity. Naming those feelings took the venom out of them.  Naming those feelings shifted the control into my hands and I was no longer at the mercy of some vague notions.  I was better equipped to deal with the specific issues that generated the feelings. (Issues like but not limited to..racism, sexism, ageism, narrow biblical interpretation, abuse of authority, etc.) The work of wrestling with those huge issues was not easy but it was much easier to do the work when I knew what I was working with - or working against as the case may have been.
     Once I knew that I was battling specific definable issues and not vague unnamed feelings, I began the process of doing the work. The most immediate task came in the form of coauthoring a paper with a brilliant classmate.  Together, we wrote a paper entitled, "The Community of the Concubine" which explored the experiences of women in the church who had been sexually abused.  We shared both laughter and tears while researching and writing that paper. We found comfort in knowing that we were not alone in our search to find meaning in the scriptures - not as inquisitive seminarians, but as 'women with a past'. We found ways to challenge each other to read and preach with integrity in light of our personal experiences. We found research that reminded us that the silence which once protected us did not serve us any longer. We found a way to break free from the bonds of shame, misplaced guilt, and fear in order to fulfill the scripture that we used as a basis for our paper, "Consider it, confer and speak up." (Judges 19:23-30)  We found a lifelong friendship in our ability to take back our power with our ability to Pin the Name on our Nemesis.  (Thank you E, for being my friend and my brilliant co-creator!) We accepted the call to consider, confer and confess. Here in this blog, I will continue to answer the call...
     For those who cannot speak, I must.
     For those who cannot write, I must.
     For those who cannot fight, I must.
     For those who are not free, I must.
     For those who have empowered me, I will.
     For those who depend on me, I am!

Shalom!
(PS - There will be another post soon! I am trying to get back on schedule!)

Black and Blue - Depression

Don't look now
I'm fading away
Into the gray of my mornings
Or the blues of every night
from Nikki Giovanni's Cotton Candy On A Rainy Day

Depression and I have been acquainted for quite some time. I have tried unsuccessfully to put her in the closet with my skeletons, but she always finds her way out, no matter how far I tried to shove her under the floorboards. Recently, we have come to an agreement and I have taken her name off of the lease. She does not and cannot live here any longer. Our relationship was too abusive and I could not continue to have her as my roommate. She was not ready to go, but I was not deterred by that. I packed her things and waved goodbye as she slowly made her way to the curb. She walked backwards, looking for some foothold of compassion in my eyes that might allow her to change direction but she found none. It was time for her to go and I had to be the one to show her the door.

If someone you loved suffered from depression would you know? Would you see the signs in your own life if that someone happened to be you? If you really thought about it, would you find that you are not really lazy, sexually frigid, or unfriendly, but actually clinically depressed? Too many of us shy away from that medical diagnosis because of the stigma that is attached by our communities. It is time to move past that, get help and get healthy. The only thing ‘wrong’ with being depressed is that there are cures and we don’t have to suffer alone in silence. I would not think twice about going to my doctor if I thought I had a sinus infection. I would sit in her office for hours just to hear her give me the diagnosis and a sheet from her prescription pad. I would not allow anyone to make fun of me because I could not breathe!! So, why do we allow people to place restrictions on our healing when it comes to mental health? I just can’t understand it.

Depression as I knew it brought a cascade of sadness, withdrawal from family and friends, a paralysis of sorts that kept me locked in a tight pattern of checking off a list of things to do without having to give much thought to anything. Depression dressed me in a coat of marzipan melancholy. It was so thick that it weighed me down and restricted my movements. I could enjoy brief moments, but those were the anomaly and not the norm. I felt uninspired and I could not access my creativity unless it served to mask whatever else I was feeling. This combination led me to act and react to situations in unhealthy ways but I did not see any other way because my sight was also affected by this disease. The world around me had not really changed but my lenses were scratched and coated with Georgia red clay. My world became distorted and so did my actions, and thoughts. I’m told that misery loves company but I would beg to differ. I came to a place where I did not want to be around anyone…not even myself. It was a cold and lonely existence.

Depression launches a relentless attack on your spirit, your body, and your mind. (I will tell the story of my recovery some other time.) As I have recovered from my own state of dis-ease, I have found a vast number of women in my own circles who are currently suffering in silence. It saddens me to know that I am not unique in my suffering. I have found that this dis-ease is far from rare and now I must speak on behalf of those who are still strangled by depression. If you would be-friend someone who suffers, you must have the tenacity to press past the mask. You must have the patience to know that we may have a relapse even when we are medicated or seeking other treatment. You must know that we can muster up enough energy to keep you at bay for a few days until we can handle you again. You cannot imagine how great the payoff is when we can keep up the façade of normalcy just long enough to get home or get in the car and steal a moment to burst into tears for the third time on any given day. You must know that like single parents, we find ways of managing and making life look easy. Do not be fooled by this act. Gently, lovingly, hold us accountable but be prepared for anything. You may have to cook, clean, or drive. You may have to listen without giving any advice or feedback. Please remember that we are not really ourselves as you have come to know us, so you’ll have to be patient if we don’t act and react as you would expect. We appreciate your good intentions, but please don’t just tell us you’re praying for us. We need you to play as well as pray. We will fight you off but you must keep coming back. We will shut you out, but you must stay by the doors and windows. We will fake it and hope that you don’t notice but what we need more than anything is for you to notice! You’ll think we’ve gone crazy and maybe we have. You don’t have to go crazy too, but watch where we’re walking as we walk together.

If I am speaking to you and you are wearing the mask, please know that there is help. Please know that you do not have to suffer. Do not buy the uninformed opinions that are being sold at the low price of a dime a dozen. You must fight the inclination to believe that you are lazy, crabby, evil, crazy, or whiney. You must believe that there is someone who will walk with you but you must let her in or give her a key. You must allow him to carry you when you’re too tired to move your own limbs. You must give in to your body’s need to return to optimum health. You must be gentle with yourself and give yourself time to heal. Your lenses need to be cleaned, corrected, and maybe even replaced. You will have to shed your protective skin. You will have to learn to be gracious as you accept help from others. (That’s the hard part. Pride and depression are like evil superpowers that join forces to prevent healing! It’s so ugly!) Now comes the hard part – you have to hang on to some glimmer of hope. I don’t know where it hides in your house but mine was buried deeper than pirate’s treasure but it would never allow me to give up everything. Yes, I had the thoughts of suicide, but I am still here. How? A favorite song, a favorite show, a favorite flavor…I held on to whatever I could –no matter how small. The few bright spots I could see were just enough to keep me afloat. Please hold on just a little while longer. We’re coming to get you out of there!

Receive the benediction as given by another excerpt from Nikki G’s Cotton Candy On A Rainy Day

Something needs to change

Everything some say will change

I need a change

of pace face attitude and life

Though I long for my loneliness

I know I need something

Or someone

Or. . . . .

Thank you Nikkis

As 2009 draws to a close, I have the luxury of reflecting on the many events which have had an impact on my life. This has been a year of profound loss and tremendous gain. The end result of this profit-loss margin is that I have re-membered myself. I realized that by giving away so much of myself I had actually become what can best be described as dis-membered. When I realized what had happened and looked around and saw my body parts strewn about, I decided that I would work to "re-member" who I was supposed to be. I was not supposed to be so burdened with other people's lives that I forgot to live my own. I was not created to be a walking narcotic designed to numb other people's pain. I was not divinely designed simply to be viewed and used as an accessory to be 'worn' until I was 'worn out'. No, this was not my Creator's intent when my mother's belly grew with hope and high expectations. The Creator designed my life to be lived and lived well. My life was created to be an example of a work in progress and not just a piece of work! I am restringing my pearls and roasting a pig on the spit for my last meal of the year. (see Matthew 7:6 to see how Jesus phrased it)

As 2009 gives way to 2010, I would like to thank those who spoke words of encouragement when I needed it most. I have chosen three Nikkis to represent the people who have spoken and in some cases breathed life back into my body...

Thank you, Nikki C. for your constant encouragement and neighborly kindness. Your friendship and loving support have proven invaluable to me. Your ability to stand by me in the most difficult of times means the world to me. There is a newness to our friendship which I hope will last well into our gray haired years. Thank you, Nikki C.

Thank you Nikki T.T. for springing up from the past and reminding me that some people can be a part of your life for a season and even when you have not been able to keep up, you can always find a way to catch up as if no time had ever passed. Thank you for saying that if I ever wrote a blog that you would read it! Thank you Nikki T.T.

Thank you, Nikki G. for your example of divine creativity at work. You are a sister, co-creator, advisor and you are more fuse than muse! We are never alone in this unless we choose to be. Thank you for the gift of A Poem of Friendship...

We are not lovers
because of the love
we make
but the love
we have

We are not friends
because of the laughs
we spend
but the tears
we save

I don't want to be near you
for the thoughts we share
but the words we never have
to speak

I will never miss you
because of what we do
but what we are
together

(Thank you, Nikki G.)

Until next time, may God bless you as the old passes away and the new comes into view...
Shalom!

Catching Up

What's the point of having a blog if you're not going to write, right? While I had imagined that I would write more frequently, there is a new love in my life which requires much from me. I work at a Christian High School with some of the most wonderful students in the world. These young people are full of life, energy and vitality. They bring challenges that only the teenage mind can concoct. They ask questions about things which most adults have resigned themselves to accept and not challenge. They will not settle for "because I said so" but respectfully accept the right of an authority figure to use it when he or she is at the end of their rope. These students live their lives and their faith in the city of Camden, NJ and have plans for a future. I absolutely love my students at UrbanPromise Academy and now because of that love, I must find ways to balance my new life as an administrator and teacher and pastor to these brilliant youth.

Pray for my students and their families.
God is able.

Shalom

for colored girls

A place for my thoughts...who would have imagined it? Certainly not me. I used to keep my thoughts under lock and key but now they are going to be broadcast to the entire internet community. Pretty impressive for a little colored girl from New Jersey.

Why the title, for colored girls? Besides giving a shout out to Ntozake Shange for her fine writing, it was the choreopoem which blew a door open for me. She writes,

i found god in myself
& i loved her/ i loved her fiercely

& this is for colored girls who have considered
suicide/ but are movin to the ends of their own
rainbows

Press on sisters, to the end of your own rainbow.
Shalom