Friday, October 23, 2009

Gravity's Child/ My People... Hold On!


My People... Hold On!

These are indeed trying times for so many people, and I have become one of those Trying Times People. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m not alone. Almost everyone I know has been going through something lately:

A very close friend of mine is fighting serious health issues and mounting medical bills. Please… pray for him.

Several friends have lost the security of having a job, a career, a steady income, and riding along piggyback with this American tragedy comes the loss of those much-needed benefits.

My People… Hold On!

A family member has become another victim of foreclosure, and now he and his wife and kids are facing eviction within the next few days.

My People... Hold On!

The current economy is kicking major ass, in a myriad of ways, and only the strongest of us are surviving with our heads above water and our Grace intact.

My People… Hold On!


Most everyone is crying those running outta money blues, and I too know the lyrics to that song, by heart.

Currently I am fighting for something that is legally and morally my own, and yet it is being kept from me. I recently joined a union. In my ongoing journey in lone-wolfdom, I’ve never been much of a union person, yet there are times and situations in our lives when there is far more power in numbers than there is in fighting that good fight all by one’s lonesome.

I’m told to ‘be patient’… and please believe that I’ve BEEN patient until I’m blue in the freakin face!


My People… Hold On!


For the life of us, and our utter survival, there are some things we can control, and other things, that no matter how hard we try… they are clearly out of our hands. Being a spiritual person, I pray, I fast, and I mediate, on the regular. I also think positive thoughts. I try to be a good person, a sharing person, a caring and giving person. I sincerely try to become an agent for good. This is no way means I’m a perfect person, nor do I strive to be. I just believe that, whether good or bad, the Karmic energy we put out into The Universe has a way of coming back to us.

I believe that snatching JOY is not only doable, but very necessary to survive mentally, emotionally and spiritually in this world. It’s far too easy to embrace the negative, to allow it to feed off us, and to become ugly within our souls. Every day and in every way I am desperately, so very desperately trying to beautify my soul.

And so, I wrote this lil poem to remind myself and others that the survivor has an upright spine, the phoenix can still lives inside of us.

My People… Hold On!




* * * *


Gravity’s Child

Please…pay no attention if
My spine declines.
It’s my core position
Just before I rise
Like a phoenix
Whose wings
You’ve burned
I’ll just glow even
Brighter from
The lessons I’ve learned.

And you can best believe
You’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my knees…


I’m not a beggar
For coins or
Spare change
And my emotions
Never caused me
To feel any
Shame.
A selfish lover’s
Never satisfied
Until they’ve made
Something inside you
Cry…

But you’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my knees…


Bet you thought
I would be down
For a while…
I thought you knew
By now that I am
Gravity’s child.



So, pay no attention if
My pockets are bare
My greatest blessing
Comes from what
I’ve shared...

So I’m much richer
Than you’ll ever be
No devil holds my soul
Or kidnaps my dignity

And you can best believe
You’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my
Knees.


Pay no attention if
My spine declines…
It’s core my position
Just before I rise
Like a phoenix
Whose wings
Have been burned…
And just watch me glow
Brighter from
The lessons I’ve learned…

You may see me
Stumble and struggle
With Mother Gravity…
But you will not see
Me go down…
Down on my knees!




One.

LMR

Friday, September 11, 2009

Freedom Isn't Free


On Septemeber 11, 2001, in the course of two short hours, the world would change forever.

The freedom, security, the simple peace of mind most of us took for granted ended on that day when four planes were apprehended by terrorists and set a course that would change history.


I knew three people who perished at the Twin Towers, and so the feeling of loss is beyond just personal. The sad reality is that at least 2,985 people died in the attacks, including:

19 terrorists
2,966 victims [2,998 as of Spring 2009]

All but 13 people died on that day. The remaining 13 later died of their wounds.



As of this day, in 2009, over 800 people who worked at Ground Zero have since died or become deathly ill from numerous cancers, lung and respiratory diseases. This is suspected to have been caused by all the debris from the Twin Towers.

Many of those brave and selfish people have no subtantial healthcare benefits today.


Have the terrorists won?


And so the death toll from that tragic day continues, even now.

Terrorism is a hideous disease that keeps on infecting.


There were 266 people on the four planes:


American Airlines Flight 11 (crashed into the WTC): 92 (including five terrorists)
United Airlines Flight 175 (crashed into the WTC): 65 (including five terrorists)
American Airlines Flight 77 (crashed into the Pentagon): 64 (including five terrorists)
United Flight 93 (downed in Shanksville, PA): 45 (including four terrorists)

There were 2,595 people in the World Trade Center and near it, including:


343 NYFD firefighters and paramedics
23 NYPD police officers
37 Port Authority police officers
1,402 people in Tower 1
614 people in Tower 2
658 people at one company, Cantor Fitzgerald
1,762 New York residents
674 New Jersey residents

1 NYFD firefighter killed by a man jumping off the top floors of the Twin Towers

There were 125 civilians and military personnel at the Pentagon.

1,609 people lost a spouse or partner on 9/11. More than 3,051 children lost parents.


While it was mostly Americans who were killed in this horrific attack, there were also 327 foreign nationals. Here is the breakdown, according to country:

Argentina: 4
Australia: 11
Bangladesh: 6
Belarus: 1
Belgium: 1
Bermuda: 1
Brazil: 3
Canada: 27
Chile: 2
China: 4
Cote d'Ivoire: 1
Colombia: 17
Democratic Republic of the Congo: 2
Dominican Republic: 1
El Salvador: 1
Ecuador: 3
France: 1
Germany: 11
Ghana: 2
Guyana: 3
Haiti: 2
Honduras: 1
India: 1
Indonesia: 1
Ireland: 6
Israel: 5
Italy: 4
Jamaica: 16
Japan: 26
Jordan: 2
Lebanon: 3
Lithuania: 1
Malaysia: 7
Mexico: 16
Moldova: 1
Netherlands: 1
New Zealand: 2
Nigeria: 1
Panama: 2
Peru: 5
Philippines: 16
Portugal: 3
Poland: 1
Russia: 1
South Africa: 2
South Korea: 28
Spain: 1
Sweden: 1
Taiwan: 1
Ukraine: 1
Uzbekistan: 1
United Kingdom: 67
Venezuela: 1




This does not include the brave soliders who have perished in the aftermath of 9/11.


And so, Let Us Never Forget...



Freedom ISN'T Free!

Photobucket

May God Rest The Souls of Those Innocent Lives.


One Love.


Lin

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Because this day, the 29th of August, would have been his 51st Natal Day, I thought I'd share the following:

"We Had Him ... A Poem for Michael Jackson by Maya Angelou

Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon. In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tide with the abrupt absence of our treasure..Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him. He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that. He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his. We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him. We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given. Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England...

We are missing Michael."

michael jackson Pictures, Images and Photos

Snatch JOY in Peace!


One.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Junkie




Yesterday, I ran into an old friend who has, over the years, fallen on hard times. Much of this was due to Life and its disappointments, personal weakness and the failure to overcome the adversities we all face. It saddened me how he could have been me, or I could have been him. It saddens me still because between us there are very few differences. After speaking with him last night, I was haunted enough to light a candle for him, and then to write this poem.



JUNKIE


Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only friend
Left.

Maybe ’cause
You haven’t yet
Robbed
My car,
Broken into
My home,
Stolen my TV
And VCR.
You have not
Abused my trust
Turned my love
Into dust… or
Made empty
Promises
I knew you
Couldn’t keep.

Yes, I’ve still
Got your back
Because maybe,
Just maybe
I’m nothing but
An addict too…
A junkie, scratching
The scabs of my
Sordid history
With you. I keep
Feeding off
Lost years of
Pick-up b-ball games
And Converse All-Stars
Mainlining
Good Moments and
Memories
Into my veins…

Photobucket


And now I’ve become
Some strange form of
Junkie…
Jittering to
This music
Of a past…
Tripping on times
When laughter made
Jazz and sparks in
A summer night’s
Darkness
And it was cool
To be young
Foolish, too.

Maybe we’re all
Just junkies
Holding onto
Dreams
Tight as
Hypodermic
Needles…
Always looking for that
Transitory fix

See everyone
I know
Clings to
Something,
To someone
Or some shit
That may never
Come to be…
Photobucket


And so we
Junk ourselves
Away from
Reality. We stifle
We dope
We medicate our
Silent aches
With placebos
With nicotine
With liquor
With amphetamines
With something
That makes disaster
Seem a little more like
A dream.

Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only
Friend left. Maybe
‘Cause beneath
The scratching,
Leaning palsy and
The slow-mo ballet
Just maybe I see…

Photobucket


How my veins
Have collapsed
From the weight of
My dreams
How my desires
Have atrophied
From someone
Else’s schemes
And my fingers
Wear sores and
Skid-marks
From clawing
And clinging to
Some illusive shit
That may never
Come to be.



The only difference is:

I’VE NEVER STOPPED
Believing.


One.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Rest In Peace E. Lynn Harris, Brotha of The Pen

It is with the saddest heart that I learned today E. Lynn Harris, the best-selling Arkansas author known for contemporary stories about African-Americans, suffered a serious health setback and passed away during a West Coast book tour. He was 54.

Word of this tragic event began making the rounds on Twitter earlier in the morning.
When information is found online, especially the passing of celebrities, I am very skeptical. However, his publishing company has since confirmed this sad news.


Publicist Laura Gilmore said Harris died Thursday night after being stricken at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, and a cause of death had not been determined. She said Harris, who lived in Atlanta, fell ill on a train to Los Angeles a few days ago and blacked out for a few minutes, but seemed fine after that.


Born in Michigan, Harris grew up in Little Rock. He attended the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, where he was the school's first black cheerleader. He continued to be a diehard Razorback fan. He had taught adjunct courses in the English department, most recently last fall.

His latest book, "Basketball Jones," is about the gay lover of an NBA star. As stated in the publicity blurb: "In Basketball Jones, E. Lynn Harris explores the consequences of loving someone who is forced to conform to the rules society demands its public heroes follow. Filled with nonstop twists and turns, it will keep readers riveted from the first page to the last." According to his website biography, Harris, 54, divided his time between Fayetteville and Atlanta.

While I never knew him personally, our paths crossed when he selected my work for the anthology he edited back 2005 called FREEDOM IN THIS VILLAGE. It was an honor to be the company of such esteemed writers, pioneers and legends as Melvin Dixon, Marlon Riggs, Essex Hemphill, Assotto Saint, Keith Boykin, Larry Duplechan, James Earl Hardy, Marvin K. White, Tim'm West, Gary Fisher, playwright George C. Wolfe, the incomparable James Baldwin, and E. Lynn Harris himself.

It was my hope that one day we would both sit in a room together, one on one, and just get drunk with talk and discover the many things that made our hearts faster. Now, I'll never get that chance.

This is a terrible lost to the world of writers and of writing. I know he will live on through his works.

My thoughts and deepest prayers go out to his friends and family.

One Love.


Lin

Friday, June 26, 2009

For Michael Jackson: The Man In The Mirror, Darkly


Dateline June 25, 2009...

8:30PM

CNN is on the boob tube. I'm feeling a little transfixed by just the phrase at the bottom of the screen "Michael Jackson Dies."

Late in the afternoon, I didn't and wouldn't believe the hype. There was a breaking news report that he was rushed to a hospital. Even that wasn't shocking. But 'cardiac arrest' was just cause to pay more attention... and to worry. When about an hour later it was announced that he died, the reality of the moment became surreal. I could hardly wrap my mind around it.

I don't know about you, but having lost family members whom I truly loved and who knew and loved me, I can rarely cry at the deaths of celebs... even those I feel a certain kindred to don't jerk my tears. However, people like Michael Jackson are so much a part of my life, your life, OUR lives that the sadness of them passing feels like the death inside the one remaining corner of our childhood.

Yes, deep in the hoopla of his utter celebrity, he went on to make a freakish spectacle of himself... and vividly remembering Jackson as he once was, it became disturbing to see him. Yes, there was a swirl of suspicion and mystery surrounding him, his activities with young children, and his chronically bad judgment.

However, the essential truth is that Michael Jackson was first and foremost, arguably, the Greatest Entertainer this world would ever see. When he performed, there were sparks and something like electromagnetic energy shooting from his body. There are so many talented people in this world, yet his talent loomed so large, it was almost otherworldly. I feel fortunate to have lived in a lifetime that produced Sinatra, Miles Davis, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Prince... and then, there was Michael Jackson. So Young. Gifted. Iconic. Michael Jackson's music magically bridged gaps in culture, erased color-lines, spanned across generations and managed to rock the world in its entirety! It was no easy feat, and yet his career changed the course of modern history. Michael Jackson was clearly an innovator whose like we'll not see again.

The person he became in the later years of his life was a stranger to me. But whenever they replay those old J5 clips, it feels like home... so close to the heart and the bone and the soul of me.

The pretty brown skin afro-topped boy with so much talent, it exploded from him, this is what I choose to remember.

I miss THAT cat, and his talented brothers. I missed that cat long before he died. I miss the way he made me feel.

And so, with Michael Jackson's passing, it's as if something young, dynamic, free and full of possibility has died a sad death inside me.

Thank God for the music, the videos, the memories, and these beautiful people playing his songs and dancing in front of the Apollo and all over the world today!

Maybe that's what we're really supposed to remember: the way it made us FEEL!






My soul was awakened by Michael Jackson.

I was amazed by the gift of Michael Jackson.

I admired the music of Michael Jackson.

I sang the tunes of Michael Jackson.

I was addicted to the grooves of Michael Jackson.

I imitated the moves of Michael Jackson.

I grew up with the legend of Michael Jackson.

I celebrated the ascension of Michael Jackson.

I was fascinated by the aura of Michael Jackson.

I was transfixed by the wizardry of Michael Jackson.

I was so very proud of Michael Jackson.

Michael Jackson Pictures, Images and Photos

I wanted to be Michael Jackson.



And then....

michael jackson 2 Pictures, Images and Photos

I became disappointed in Micheal Jackson.

I was saddened and confused by Micheal Jackson.

I was alarmed and concerned about Michael Jackson.

I became a little ashamed of Michael Jackson.

I was mystified and afraid for Michael Jackson.


michael jackson Pictures, Images and Photos


I tripped upon the icon of Micheal Jackson.

But maybe I was wrong about Michael Jackson.

I wanted to believe in Michael Jackson.

I now grieve the life of Michael Jackson.





Thank God for the Music!

Rest In Peace, Michael Jackson.



One Love.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Father’s Day Poem: With Gratitude, From Your Brown and Brooding Essence




Within this paneled den of
My mind, You are
Coolly reclining
In your favorite Laz E-Boy, gazing up
From The Daily News. Your eyes fixed in
This no-nonsense stare. You want to discuss
The day’s politics… but there’s always
Some new song rattling in my brain, playing
Upon the jukebox of my tongue. Sly,
Stevie, Marvin and Donny, they haunt
My boyish conversation.

Didn’t mean to exasperate you, yet
I sometimes did. Its evidence could be seen on
Your brow, like an angel, debating with sin.
They say, I’m your ‘spit,’ your seed, your kid,
Your son, and I inherited this countenance
From you.

It was you who predicted there’d someday be a
Black President… while the militant in me
Discarded your pipedream. The older I get,
The wiser you become, it seems.

I want to tell you everything inside me…
My successes, my failures, my joys
And my heartbreaks. I feel
As if I should name them, one by one,
For each day, each month, each
Year you’ve been gone. You are

My brown and brooding essence, now, a spirit
That possesses my older face. Beneath its
Surface, some claim to see this trace of
Implicit sadness. Still, Da,

I need to tell you this:

I’m so glad you were
My father. Blessed, that you stayed
When other fools ran, strayed or
Escaped to places free of their sons
And daughter’s cries. Each day
In my mind, I
Thank You for being
The kind of person you were:
A Man, a Husband, my Dad… and not
Some hot-wired version of manhood.

There are so many things I’d like us to
Redo, undo, renew again. So many
Words I want to say, to unsay, and say
Again… but you managed to form
The words: I love you, son. And you
Said them more than once. You spoke them
In a voice that even today, carries me
Through this world of uncertainty, untruths,
Disappointment and ruthlessness.

Thank you for showing and giving me
Your lessons in loyalty. Thank you
For that voice, which still lingers here
Like the singer in my head of this song
I call my life. Thank you for being
Strong and standing
For things like hard work and honesty;
Your steadfast belief in God, and humility.


Thank you for the gifts of laughter;
For those golden seasons of summers,
And even the winters. Thank you for
Loving my mother in a way
She always deserved to be

Loved. Father,

Though you weren’t very tall, I walk in your
Stalwart shadow now. Yes, I am a small thing
Made larger by your presence. Some say
I am your ‘spit,’ your son, your mirror reflection.
And yet, in some lone way, I am different.

I wish we had more days in the sun, more
Time to decipher and fix all our mutual
Complications. Yet, when I speak of love
There is no mystery, no bitterness, nor distraught
Insensitivity.


I get love. You taught me this! Though the
Clouds have coalesced and swallowed your
Sun, you’ll always cast a giant’s shadow
Over this kid, this runt, this man I’ve become.



Happy Father’s Day.

Photobucket

One Love.


Your son.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Reclaiming My Inner Champion!



"You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him."

I don't know much about Robert C. Savage, but I do love that above quote of his on the subject of Courage:


Ah, Courage! The dictionary defines it as: “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.”


For the past few months I have been facing such fierce opposition that it threatened to swallow me, my courage, and all my little dreams, whole. I’ve been fighting until my fists have been made red with blood, and my punch-drunk mind clouded by the haze of steady discouragement. I’ve been fighting with my wits and my heart, while battling the bullshit parts of my enemy. And though, I haven't been exactly down for the count, the wind was knocked out of me. Coping has been difficult under such adversarial circumstances... and then there's this other nemesis nagging inside my head that screams how: I'll never be a champion, if I keep losing fights!

I’ve also been listening to the other side of my brain... the part that whispers: maybe a True Champion is one who knows which battles are worth the fight.

There have been times in my life when I tried, really TRIED to win a fight, and overcome by the dueling forces of passion and retribution, I did in fact, win. I was never really a tough guy, a thug, or a bully, but those who mistakenly thought I was a punk were in for a rude and bloody awakening. I've had exactly four physical fights in my entire life, and I won all but one.




Yet, there are other kinds of fights we encounter in life; fights we try so hard to win, only to end up failing so miserably. Has that ever happened to you?

True Story: A long time ago, I attended a friend's birthday party. It was held at a local bowling alley. I was nine, and had never bowled before. Frankly, it never interested me. But being a keen observer even then, I watched the others go through the motions of giving out their shoe sizes to the clerk, retrieving those butt-ugly rented shoes, slipping into them, and choosing a ball that suited them. I watched each one stepping up, getting into the stance, drawing back, releasing the ball and sending it rolling furiously down the lane. Granted, not everyone bowled a strike or hit all the pins they were aiming for, but at LEAST they managed knocked some pins down.

Cool. Cool. Coolness. Maybe I was way too young to be nervous. Maybe I was too excited at trying this new thing so it never entered my mind that I might not be any good at it. When it came MY turn, I did everything I'd seen the others do. However, in doing so, I displayed absolutely NO style, no grace, no finesse, NO SKILLZ whatsoever in it!


That's when it HIT me: Wow! I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY SUCK at this!


It's a very profound moment when you realize that you truly suck at something.

No doubt, it made for a hideous display. I imagine myself looking beyond pitiful, ugly, uncoordinated and a hundred other unsightly things as I attempted this procedure. The result was that heavy-ass ball rolled, veered and went straight into the gutter, each time. This happened again and again to my utter mortification: GUTTER BALL!

Though this alone was bad enough… the worst part was that, suddenly, I was being whispered about. I could FEEL it... that creepy sensation of sheer foolishness standing still. The edgy chorus of nine and ten-year-old laughter invaded my ears, my heart and my spirit. I was being laughed at, loudly, in stereophonic surround sound! This hurt in a way that seemed to make me crumble, at least internally. Yes, some mild form of pseudo encouragement came from one sensitive parent... but mostly I was just laughed at. Hard! Obviously, I had no sense of humor about myself, and because of this, I was NOT a big fan of this harsh sound of laughter, nor being the actual object of it... at age nine.

Hell, I was not a fan of being laughed at age 18, 19, or 28 or 29 for that matter!

Long story short: I never attempted to bowl again.

Perhaps the razor of youthful trauma slices a lasting memory into the skin of us, and it leaves behind something that feels like a deeply wounding incision. The scar remains. This was, for me, a kind of embarrassment that made me stop fighting to win, to stop trying when progress eluded me, and to lose faith in my abilities at achieving VICTORY.

Who needs the slicing jaws of ridicule wrecking all kinds and varieties of havoc on their psyche? Me? I didn't. So, whenever possible, I made it my business to avoid situations where failure was a distinct possibility.

Instead of COURAGE, I chose coolness. Cool people were, by nature, just too damn cool to be embarrassed.

The bigger realization of Cool Lin: Because of my avoidance of failure at any cost, I ended up lacking the COURAGE and the HEART of a true champion.

* * * *

The reality is that The Creator Blesses us all with particular gifts. I was in a search of just what GIFTS I'd been given, and how best to use them. If things didn't come easily for me, or if I lacked the grace and courage needed to perform certain feats, I quickly abandoned them for the things I found I could do well. I wanted to engage myself in only what I could exceed in, and to win at. This was the food and the breakfast of my cool.

While rolling that way saved me from the stigma of being the brunt of jokes, it didn't do jack to build and fortify my character. People with the greatest character possess the courage to fall on their faces. They will bust their asses again and again, and yet THEY get back up and they keep trying. Courage. Eventually, many of them achieve the goals they've set for themselves; they reach some success, or at least, they knock those damn pins down in the bowling alleys of life! Courage.

Anyone who knows me would tell you, I'm a pretty optimistic person. That said, I never truly believed in the old adage that we can do anything we put our minds to... because many things in this world are simply beyond our reach, they exceed our grasp, or they venture beyond our inherit abilities. We can try and try until we're red in the eye, but moving mountains is not a human feat. I've had some mountains in my way. Trust! That doesn't necessarily mean that we're supposed to give up, to stop climbing, to throw up both our hands, or wave a white flag and surrender. It may just mean we have to apply a bit more finesse to our approach. Maybe we must refine our swagger, and use our minds (instead of our brawn or our anger) in a different way.

This is something I've learned in the past few years, and the lesson has come a little late. Failure is a part of every human experience. It is through failure that we learn our most valuable life lessons.

Yes, it's important to know what we can do. It's vital that we are aware of our strengths and what we're capable of achieving... and it's also just as important to know our weaknesses, and to be aware that they'll be some limitations in our output.

Lately, I've been asking myself, why have I been so chronically afraid to step out of that little box? You know, the box of limitations I'd placed myself inside of to guard and protect me from the dreaded terror of failure. More to the point, what was I really GAINING from living in that box? After all, what's the worst thing that can happen when stepping out of that comfort zone? I'll fall down, go BOOM... and bust my ass! Big deal! Big shit. I'd only be in the company of tens of billions. What made me think myself so special that I'd arrogantly go through this existence without experiencing defeats, failures, instances of egg on my face, or of suffering the after-effects of a bruised ego? I'm no different than anyone else.

As a resort of this realization, I've been RECLAIMING my inner champion. I’ve stopped running away from my weaknesses. I’m snatching JOY, and pocketing COURAGE! I've stopped dreading becoming that embarrassed and mortified kid at a bowling lane. I am now embarking on the process of conquering some of my fears. NOT all of them at once, mind you... but some of those core and major fears that crippled me emotionally, or left me feeling limited, stunted, sub-par, ineffectual... and by doing so, I am steadily increasing my potential as a person, a man, a flawed flesh and bone entity.

What I'm discovering (and this is HUGE!) is that I'm a far more resourceful agent for change than I ever believed I could be. I'm exceedingly more capable than I ever allowed myself credit for, and that alone is mad empowering! What I'm realizing is that my greatest opposition in any crisis is NOT some person in a superior position, not naysayers in suits, not some faceless stranger in the way of my heart’s pursuits, not some insecure hater, and not some hardened criminal. The greatest opposition of all had been no one, but me.

Telling ourselves we CAN'T do something, we shouldn't attempt something, or that we are bound to FAIL, THIS is our greatest enemy. We alone must learn to fight that inner negative voice. The voice that screams NO; the voice that doesn't believe in The Self, THAT mofo is our nemesis!

I used to think that I'd never be a champion at anything. I was wrong. A True Champion knows which battles are worth the fight. Courage.

Yes, I am very much a work in progress. Still, I'm aiming for the day, I can personify that famous quote by Robert C. Savage:

"You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him."



Color me, ENCOURAGED.



One.


Lin

Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Dreaded Curse of The Sighing People

Lately, there's been so much wrong going on inside my orbit that it would be so easy to fling my rage and hurl it into the faces of people who are clearly unworthy of receiving it.

*Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe! Just Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe, Lin!*

The truth is:

I don’t wanna become one of THEM… one of those people… one of those people who sigh. Those Sighing People I call them… those people who speak in only blue tones, who brood and cry in terminally sighing moans. Those people who sing only sad and melancholy songs… those people who exist in sobbing fits of solitude, whose only trick, kick or tic is a permanent facial grimace.




I don’t wanna become one of them. God, please don’t allow me to become one of those crying, habitually Sighing People!


I don’t wanna be one of those people who feel alone, even in crowded rooms; nor a friendless soul who’ll only move to those slow sad drums of their own. I know some people don’t trust in different drummers for fear those drummers will fuck with the funk of their beat.




But I don’t wanna become one of them.


I don’t wanna be one of people who drown in a pain… so deep… even strains of Coltrane (or Manilow) can’t release them from their Indigo Trains of Thought. I don’t need the tremulous coo of some woozy crooner to renew, redo, re-blue my Blues, when they’ve already been blown Blue enough.


I just don’t wanna become one of them.


I don’t wanna be breast-fed by Nina Simone, or mislead by Billie Holiday. I don’t wanna believe Joni Mitchell ever lied… even if that “Furry” cat really did 'play The Blues…' And though I love jazz, I don’t want my Life to be a bruise-colored song that slides terminally from the reed of a dejected and sad-azz saxophone.




See, I don’t wanna be nor ever become one of Those People… those people who only speak and brood and cry interminably. Don’t wanna be a member of that mind-numbing Cult of Terminally Sighing People…

So maybe today, maybe tonight, maybe if I try… I won’t be.




Instead, from the Beastly Jaws of Human Suffering, I'ma be the one who snatches JOY!


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One.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

About Grace: For Those Who THINK They’ve Cheated Me




For all of its luster, confusion, its pain and terrible beauty, LIFE is and will always be a continuing course in adult education. Each day, we become either new students or learned professors. Each day we endure some grand test of our emotions and our spirits where, in the end, we receive either a passing or a failing grade.

Today, after a recent 14 day fast, I can truthfully state that my spirit has become a lighter thing. I am now left unburdened by the minutia of daily occurrences, such as stress, worry, disappointment, and even that ole rabid dog, called heartbreak. It doesn’t mean that those things have not visited me, or that they won’t visit again. Only now, accompanying those tests will be a certain clarity I didn’t possess before. It’s allowed a radiant calmness to pervade me. I know now, that no matter what positive energy I project into my living, problems and difficulties will occur. People with ungodly agendas will manifest for the sole purpose of wrecking havoc in my path. I did not invite them nor single-handedly create them, and I am not meant to conquer them all alone. I am more aware than ever before that a Presence far Larger than myself sees all, knows all, and will handle all in due time.

It’s so freeing to toss away those concerns and troubles that had imprisoned me, held me hostage, and endowed me with such psychic pain, anger and thoughts of revenge.

I will no longer allow negative people and their negative acts define me, and more specifically, my reactions to them.

I will NOT allow the ugliness of others to infest my spirit with some mutually repulsive disorder.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that what truly defines me, and what ultimately defines us all, is the ability to reveal of the Loveliness within our Souls. I’ve learned that what gives us our most Supreme Gravity in this life is Faith, Forgiveness and Reverence. What I strive to contain within myself is a profound and unwavering sense of Grace. What we must all strive to contain within ourselves is GRACE.

Life’s adversities are truly our Greatest Teachers. In all the years of matriculated studies, whether we're the class valedictorian, the class clown, or the class flunk, the class whatever, the one that matters most is the class we hold within; the class of Humanity, Love, and Honesty. This is the one class that teaches us the MOST mighty and needed lesson of all which is: to become Vessels of Honor and Compassion.

We are all born with Grace, with the glow of God-Light to sustain us. Once we allow it to diminish, no amount of money can purchase it, and no amount of success or pretense can ever achieve it again.

I truly hope those who’ve purposely, maliciously, and with much forethought, lied, maligned, cheated, embezzled, and waged weapons against me will realize, remember, and retain this Sacred Truth:

To Lose Grace Is To Lose The Core Light Of One’s Being, And The Quintessential Ingredient Of One’s Humanity.

Realizing this, KNOWING this to be True, I will strive to impart some semblance of GRACE in every encounter, and in every single relationship I’ve made and ever will make.

In the end, on our last day, this and only this will comprise our True Measure.
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Snatch JOY!

One.

L.M. Ross