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I went to a meeting a few weeks back and the speaker mentioned something along the lines of “I am not telling you anything that you don’t already know”, and I found my self nodding in agreement. He was absolutely correct his message was not new, but it was a reminder of a lesson I learned sometime ago. I find that to be the case with nuggets of wisdom they are indeed ancient but crucial in rejuvenating our souls and focusing our minds. It is essential for the survival of our spirit to be reminded of bits of information crafted throughout the ages to reinvigorate the soul and thus provide bursts of inspiration and energy to forge on particularly when the out come appears bleak.
An old friend of mine reminded me of the importance of perspective today. He wrote, “It’s amazing how a change in circumstances makes you look at something differently the second time around” and I had to agree with this jewel of ancient truth. Perspective and perception is essential in navigating reality. It is our ability to shift or reposition our point of view that enables the development of new approaches in addressing a dilemma or expressing gratitude for an existing blessing. Whether a thing is a blessing or a curse is a matter of viewpoint. Sometimes this shift is brought on by a change in circumstance and other times your circumstance my be altered by a shift in conciousness. No matter the situation it can always get worse, so my perspective and position in all things is to always give thanks for what is going right. Focus not on where you are but where you wish to be and in that moment your circumstance will begin to shift to suit your desired outcome, even if it is only in the instant. Sometimes to get through really tough challenges all we need is a glimpse of life the way we wish for it to be and that can only be manifested if we dare to spend a moment to ponder a change in circumstance.
The media is having a field day with Tiger Woods. It seems we cant get enough of the fallout from his “transgressions.” Now mistresses are coming out of the wood work with recordings of his voice and claims that he is a “tiger” in bed. Some are stating that Tiger owes his fans an apology, the media a press conference and the police a statement. There are others who are taking issue with the fact that Tiger’s wife is a Sweedish blonde and his side chicks are all white women. My opinion, Tiger owes us nothing. Non-white women everywhere I am sure are thankful and rejoicing that he opted to exclude us from his Cassanova escapades. The person with whom he should be confessing and begging for forgivness is the woman who used one of his golf clubs to break the rear window of their Escalade. Which leads me to another point: If this woman was allegedly so angry from learning that he transgressed that she would strike him, then muster the the strength to break the rear windshield of their truck , imagine what it was like living with her! It couldn’t have been easy. The cynic in me also thinks Tiger probably thought he landed a tame woman and this Sweedish au pair proved a bit challenging to rangle.
Amidst all the chatter around the Tiger Woods fiasco I am most annoyed at his consistent choosing of women who are no where near as accomplished as he. He married a nanny, not the one with her own tv show, and when he strayed he selected “bar help” as his side chick(s). What does it say about a man who has a great deal of options because of his fame and fortune yet continues to choose women who are far less accomplished than he? Yes I am fully aware that one’s profession is not indicative of intelligence or personal character, but I firmly believe that in many cases it is a combination of talent, opportunity, performance and motivation. Even when he strays from his spouse he seems to target women that to my mind are shallow, opportunistic underperformers.
No, Tiger owes us nothing. The wrath he’s facing from his golf club weilding wife is sufficient penance. He’s great on the golf course but in seeking partners and side chicks he might want to consider stepping up his game.
Is this news?
What is really going on with the nonsensical and trite media coverage about celebrities doing nothing more than living their lives and those who are famous for doing nothing? I am not innocent. I peruse the scandalous headlines when I’m on line in Walmart or Target. Sometimes I’ll even scan an article or two, but quite frankly there isn’t much else to view on the Magazine stands. I have a theory that if we focused on issues of any consequence most of us would be chronically depressed or perhaps be moved to do something to transform deplorable conditions all around the world. To my mind the intense focus on celebrity is like prozac for the masses. It’s intended to keep us distracted and prevent us from addressing tangible issues that will impact our very existence.
I am not overly concerned with pictures of celebrities taking out trash, walking their dogs or going to the supermarket. I dont want to know who they are dating, whether they are wearing underwear or even if they’ve entered rehab. Pop culture is driven by the daily coverage of the lives of these human beings for whom fame is a consequence of their work. I am more interested in their actual work rather than their personal lives. Yet with everyone vying for their 15 minutes of fame it seems starring in a reality tv show has become the work of people without any real talent. The boundaries are now blurred and there is no real distinction between personal and professional; alas my fear is that there will be much more coverage on who’s found love, filmed a sex tap and cheated on their spouse rather than where we are on much more significant issues.
Google yourself
To put things in persepective I googled Maxwell, he appeared about 200,00 times. Then I googled Obama and he appeared approximately 200 milion times. In comparison my 640 results is meager. For a private citizen such as myself my appeance on the web aggregrated by Google search engine was a bit of a shock, despite the fact that I have actively engaged in an internet self-marketing and promotion campagin. For some reason I did not make the connection that I would appear several hundred times via an online search. I thought: “I put so much of myself out there” and my mind began to race as to how I can reign in my online presence. Then it dawned on me: I can’t, once it’s in cyberspace it exists forever. I can only going forward be more vigilant in how I manage my online presence. I’m curious. Google yourself. What did you find?
Who is African-American?
I was born in Jamaica and came to the United States of America when I was 6 years old. Although its’ a term often reserved for the children of Jamaican parents born in the United States I’ve often considered myself “Jamerican”. A fusion. Not quite one or the other but a culmination of both experiences, occupying a unique social location only children who seek to navigate the terrain of assimlating to the nation their parents adopted while seeking to honor the cultures of “back home” can fully comprehend.
Going back over 2 decades, the authenticity of my “Blackness” was often challenged because my version of Black did not encompass the consumption of grits and collard greens and a host of other practices which seemed inconsequential to me. My peers in elementatry school would ask me if Jamaicans lived in huts or trees and they wondered if we wore clothes. Not so much these days. Jamaican food stores and West Indian markets pepper various street corners and neighborhoods. Hip Hop Stations must include reggae in their daily rotation in order to be considered relevant. Jamaican vernacular and dance styles in many ways are now at the heart of African American pop culture. I venture to say that in many major metropolitan areas where immigrants tend to coalesc there is a strong Jamaican/West Indian presence (at least on the east coast).
Despite the fact that Carribbean Americans have been in the US for a very long time the clip above has brought to my mind questions I’ve often pondered: Am I, was I or will I ever be African-American? Is the term African- American too specific or too vague to capture my experience? Although I’ve never been offended by the term I’ve never felt that it captured the essence of my experience the way “Jamerican” or “Afro-Carribbean American” does. But then again does negating the term altogether relinquish my ability to claim that yes African-Americans eat collard greens and yes they eat collaloo and green bannana too.
Tyra's real hair
As I attempt to reengage in the conversation on Black women’s hair and encourage dialogue I think it’s important to state that relaxed hair without a weave is simply that: relaxed hair. It sits on one end of the spectrum of hair textures while the curls, coils, waves and kinks of truly natural hair sits on the other. Chemically and artificially straightened by definition is not naturally straight. When we compare it to hair that you can buy at a store and attach to your head yes it is real, but if we compared relaxed hair to the hair that grows out of your scalp to my mind it is not only unnatural it is fake or false. Now if deciding to shed the weave if only for a moment is cause for celebration and adulation, I wonder what a conscious effort to end the addiction to the creamy crack (chemical relaxer) would bring about?
Somebody forgot spell check...
I saw a very pretty girl with two beautiful tattoos. They were truly artistic as the indvidual who etched them was a talented artist. Beautiful color, neat lines no bleeding ink. The first was of a skull on her arm and the other was of a vine with flowers across her back between her shoulder blades. BOTH detracted from the beautiful strapless wedding gown she wore on her wedding day. I dont know watcha ya heard but tattoos don’t go with every outfit.
What the heck is going on with tattoos? Has this trend not yet reached it’s peak? I have yet to see a tatt oo where I felt compelled to say “Yes! Brilliant, I want one just like [insert whatever here].” I am not anti anything. I am pro everyone doing what they believe is in their best interest yet I am wondering how much of what we do culturally speaking is motivated by group think rather than individual choice.
In my humble opinion we have gone over board with the doggone tattoos! “Loyalty” on your neck? REALLY. Your children’s, mom’s and lover’s name on your body? As IF you NEEDED to permanently etch it into your skin to remember their names. Let’s not forget the plethora of body doodles whose crooked lines and bleeding ink reflect the lack of skill/talent of the culprit, I mean “artist”. Oh, yes, and those symbols in languages you don’t speak, understand or to which you have no particular connection.
Just random nonsense: “201″ cause it’s the area code of my town where i grew up. Picture of a pitbull cause “I like them dogs.” Or cherries on your neck and cherries on your neck with a tongue in betwen. Or portraits of LIVING beings who are constantly changing. Baby Jas is not a baby anymore. She’s 9 now and looks totally different than the mess on your arm. Then one isn’t okay or two but now we are talking upwards of 10 tats. Everything can’t be that important that it requires being permanently memorialized and etched in ink into your skin. WHY?
Cause it’s the style?
Am I being too critical? One of my students told me to find a a woman without a tattoo these days is very rare. Is that true? What are your thoughts on tattoos? Do you have one or two or ten? What was your motivation?
With all of modern technology’s wonderful devices for communicating there is really no sufficient explanation for one’s failure to connect with an individual or person whom they deem important. I’ve come to learn that when a person tells you that they are “busy” it is essentially code for “too busy for you or what you may want at the moment.” This sentiment emerges in several spaces including the personal and professional . I had a boss tell me that she was “too busy” to schedule weekly meetings with me, yet she found time to summon me to her cubicle for multiple adhoc conversations that could have been coherently addressed with a weekly overview. During a recent conversation, a young man expressed to me that women want successful men, but when a man is busy pursuing that success and as a result may have less time for a romanctic relationship the woman gets upset.
Folks, I have two sons under the age of 8 and I do other stuff including a full time job and I am pretty busy, however when I deem something urgent or pressing, I make time. Similarly, when any type of relationship (frienship, business, professional) is evolving or developing it is prudent for genuinely interested parties to make time. Yes, I understand that time will not always mean copious emails, long conversations, extensive meetings weekend get- togethers or romanctic dinners . Sometimes it’s a quick text to say : “It’s hectic today, I’ll touch base when I have a moment.” Or perhaps it’s a mini meeting to ensure everyone is on the same page. Or maybe a 15 minute conference call to tie up loose ends.
During the moments when life calls you in multiple directions it can be difficult to juggle and prioritize, however with a bit of consideration and forethought it’s possible to give energy to that which we find vital or compelling. In those moments quality is desirable over quantity and ultimately there is no room for such statements as “too busy”.
It's Carnival time Again.....
My boys, our cousin and I took a road trip. We traveled 500 miles up north to visit family in Ontario, Canada . We made it safe and sound after a couple of chicken wing breaks, a twenty minute down pour on interstate 81, a power nap, a probe of our car and it’s contents by Canadian customs euphemized as an “IDconfirmation” and a stop at Niagara Falls (the Canadian side). Like many West Indians I have family flung around the globe primarily in the countries of Jamaica, United States, Canada and England. As my sons get older I am begining to acknowledge the importance of maintaining the connections that are preordained by DNA. As result I’ve resume the yearly pilgrimage begun by my parents when I was a child.
Only at Caribana
Caribana an annual parade that celebrates the West Indian spirit of revelry offers an exciting backdrop for a DivaMom and Sons (and cousin) adventure. Our excursion provided what adventures normally do: a sense of accomplishment, exposure to sights and sounds that are not readily available in your comfort zone and an opportunity to reconnect with people, places and self. My boys had a ball proclaiming they wanted to move to Canada. I felt like a champ first pulling into my cousin’s drive way and then into my complex. I was so proud of me. The road trip was rejuvenating enabling me to reconnect with my inner divamom. Upon our return when my 5 year old son whined because he did not have his t-shirt for camp I immediately responded: ” I just drove 1,000 miles to and from Canada, boy I didn’t get a chance to wash your shirt. I dont deserve that from you”. He obviously agreed because his usually persistent little butt shut right up.
When I got to college one of the first things I noticed was how similar it was to high school with far more freedom. Similar in terms of the cliques that were formed, attitudes of various individuals, boyfriend and girlfriend issues, teachers’ pets in various classes and a tremendous amount of both positive and negative peer pressure.
After I left college I realized how similar the so called “real world” was to college. Cliques remained in tact at work, teacher’s pets became bosses’ brown nosers, one still had to contend with various attitudes including banal commentary on very superficial topics (is Britney wearing panties today), the popular kids are now rich and famous entertainers and yes, there remained the boyfriend girlfriend issues.
For many people high school was their peak moment of accomplishment, for others it happened in college and still many more have yet to peak. I cant help but to chuckle to myself when I see the little cliques in my very tiny office, or witness the brown nose champ in full swing or engage in some sillyconversation with no real substance or when my girl friends and I are swooning over our latest crushes.
I can reflect back nearly 2 decades and conclude that we are still contending with similar issues just in different forms. Life is a big old high school; the “real world” was here all along. If I think I about it long enough even though it’s been a while since senior prom and graduation it feels like I’ve never left.
W. Reid
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