Special spotlight on Ne-Yo's efforts to fight relationship abuse by presenting a healthy model in his new song called "Heroes," which you can download for free at Macys.com/Ne-Yo. For each download, the clothing line Alfani will contribute $1 (up to $50,000) to support the RESPECT! Campaign.
See him perform it on Letterman (and remember the song sounds better in download version, so get a version at Macy's website, spread the word and pat yourself on the back for boosting a good cause!)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Processing pain
I've never identified with Eeyore. While I feel for him and always hope I'll get to see him having a good day, his negativity grates on me.
My parents raised my sisters and me with an appreciation for empowering oneself and rising above any difficult situation (both of them are political refugees and lost everything only to adapt and rebuild in three countries).
Which is why I hope that those of you who know me can appreciate the distinction between my self and my blog. Scanning the list of titles to prompt my memory of posts, I realize there's a lot on here that's sad, bordering on angry, and working from being victimized to becoming a survivor. I've used this space as a way of reclaiming my voice through the haze of disorientation and pain in the wake of major life changes. I've also dedicated a lot of real estate to domestic violence for healing purposes but also in hopes of raising awareness on an issue that is often kept safely in the shadows with justifications like "It's personal," or "It's just between them." The truth is it's a public issue and it's between all of us because on many levels our society permits it (and will continue to do so until more dialogue and ownership takes place). [dismounting soapbox]
It can be uncomfortable to face the rawness in these situations and disconcerting to see someone's heart laid bare (unless you're an artist who strives to do that as well), but I hope that you'll continue to take this journey with me. If you know me, I hope that you'll also set these soulful struggles within the greater picture of who you know me to be. If you don't know me, well, I hope that my writings resonate and move you on some level. If they give you greater clarity on some situation in your life, I would consider my time on earth a success.
I will continue to write through the process of healing, and embracing the transformative effect of pain. Looking back at legendary artists' lives, I can't help but notice that few, if any, led easy, happy lives. But they found solace in their pain with the opportunity to channel that into self-expression and into leaving some kind of legacy (although most died before earning the public's appreciation). Studying their lives has motivated me not to run from the painful moments but to surrender to them instead.
"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable." (--Anne Morrow Lindbergh)
My parents raised my sisters and me with an appreciation for empowering oneself and rising above any difficult situation (both of them are political refugees and lost everything only to adapt and rebuild in three countries).
Which is why I hope that those of you who know me can appreciate the distinction between my self and my blog. Scanning the list of titles to prompt my memory of posts, I realize there's a lot on here that's sad, bordering on angry, and working from being victimized to becoming a survivor. I've used this space as a way of reclaiming my voice through the haze of disorientation and pain in the wake of major life changes. I've also dedicated a lot of real estate to domestic violence for healing purposes but also in hopes of raising awareness on an issue that is often kept safely in the shadows with justifications like "It's personal," or "It's just between them." The truth is it's a public issue and it's between all of us because on many levels our society permits it (and will continue to do so until more dialogue and ownership takes place). [dismounting soapbox]
It can be uncomfortable to face the rawness in these situations and disconcerting to see someone's heart laid bare (unless you're an artist who strives to do that as well), but I hope that you'll continue to take this journey with me. If you know me, I hope that you'll also set these soulful struggles within the greater picture of who you know me to be. If you don't know me, well, I hope that my writings resonate and move you on some level. If they give you greater clarity on some situation in your life, I would consider my time on earth a success.
I will continue to write through the process of healing, and embracing the transformative effect of pain. Looking back at legendary artists' lives, I can't help but notice that few, if any, led easy, happy lives. But they found solace in their pain with the opportunity to channel that into self-expression and into leaving some kind of legacy (although most died before earning the public's appreciation). Studying their lives has motivated me not to run from the painful moments but to surrender to them instead.
"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable." (--Anne Morrow Lindbergh)
Friday, February 5, 2010
Silent beauty
Pitter, patter
softly falling
snowflakes float
onto the ground
Silent rev'rence
covers cities
like the blanket
on the ground
For a moment
just a moment
there is not
a single sound
But then a boot
pounds down its mark
and with a crunch
does sigh the ground.
December 18, 2009
softly falling
snowflakes float
onto the ground
Silent rev'rencecovers cities
like the blanket
on the ground
For a moment
just a moment
there is not
a single sound
But then a boot
pounds down its mark
and with a crunch
does sigh the ground.
December 18, 2009
Fairy Tale, meet Reality
December 27, 2009
A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I gazed at the photo of his brother seated on those familiar grooved stairs while playing with their excited Jack Russell terrier. Again I wondered if I hadn't dreamed the five years of love and companionship -- an escape with wondrous and nightmarish aspects folded into one reality.
At its best moments, we were weightless -- freed of all human and earthly constraints. At its worst, it was hell on earth -- a life prison sentence served in solitary confinement. Death Row would have been my exit route, if my cell door had actually locked behind me.
And I realized today that the only way I was able to withstand the abuse and denigration was for the dream-like quality of life as I knew it in Italy. When I was over there, the beauty, warmth and charm blinded me to the grime that coated my future. Once I removed myself from the enchantment, the spell broke. The prince turned into the dragon and the princess was left to fend for herself. It was something I initially could do quite well, but each trip over there he tied my hands a little more. He looped just another layer of rope around my wrists -- not enough to register with me as he did it but enough to weaken me to accept captivity and exile to the ivory tower. There I would remain doll-like, unstained, lonely and aching to take my place in the world. There I would be preserved as his accessory to win praise and admiration for him until my time was up and I was replaced, which I surely would have been.
So you see, the nostalgia was only for the time of soaring dreams and the conviction that believing in something so surely, so deeply would actually bring it to pass. Perhaps it's for my childlike innocence, that moment in time seemingly undisturbed by life's messes, until it became mixed into them in its own good time. For a "slow-mo" moment, it was a daydream paradise, an Eden of sorts, only mine was a built perception of near-perfection instead of actual flawlessness.
"Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they? / And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay" (Fergie)
A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I gazed at the photo of his brother seated on those familiar grooved stairs while playing with their excited Jack Russell terrier. Again I wondered if I hadn't dreamed the five years of love and companionship -- an escape with wondrous and nightmarish aspects folded into one reality.
At its best moments, we were weightless -- freed of all human and earthly constraints. At its worst, it was hell on earth -- a life prison sentence served in solitary confinement. Death Row would have been my exit route, if my cell door had actually locked behind me.
And I realized today that the only way I was able to withstand the abuse and denigration was for the dream-like quality of life as I knew it in Italy. When I was over there, the beauty, warmth and charm blinded me to the grime that coated my future. Once I removed myself from the enchantment, the spell broke. The prince turned into the dragon and the princess was left to fend for herself. It was something I initially could do quite well, but each trip over there he tied my hands a little more. He looped just another layer of rope around my wrists -- not enough to register with me as he did it but enough to weaken me to accept captivity and exile to the ivory tower. There I would remain doll-like, unstained, lonely and aching to take my place in the world. There I would be preserved as his accessory to win praise and admiration for him until my time was up and I was replaced, which I surely would have been.
So you see, the nostalgia was only for the time of soaring dreams and the conviction that believing in something so surely, so deeply would actually bring it to pass. Perhaps it's for my childlike innocence, that moment in time seemingly undisturbed by life's messes, until it became mixed into them in its own good time. For a "slow-mo" moment, it was a daydream paradise, an Eden of sorts, only mine was a built perception of near-perfection instead of actual flawlessness.
"Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they? / And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay" (Fergie)
Knock, knock
You screen whom you open your front door to. Choose carefully whom you allow into your life. They are no less a threat to your sanity, well being, and happiness than a ne'er-do-well at your stoop is to your security.
Toxic relationships weaken you and render you less effective in daily life. They sap you of your energy, reducing you to robotic reflexes instead of pro-active postures. Even those relationships that may not be fully toxic but that do not help you grow into your ideal should be pruned.
Your time is not infinite. Time invested in those types of situations is squandered and irretrievable, an extended period of missed opportunities for growth and enrichment. Don't make the mistake of coasting through these relationships simply because they're not classified as a bio hazard or because they give fleeting moments of excitement or gratification. Long-term, you lose. Choose wisely whom you let into your life.
December 23, 2009
Toxic relationships weaken you and render you less effective in daily life. They sap you of your energy, reducing you to robotic reflexes instead of pro-active postures. Even those relationships that may not be fully toxic but that do not help you grow into your ideal should be pruned.
Your time is not infinite. Time invested in those types of situations is squandered and irretrievable, an extended period of missed opportunities for growth and enrichment. Don't make the mistake of coasting through these relationships simply because they're not classified as a bio hazard or because they give fleeting moments of excitement or gratification. Long-term, you lose. Choose wisely whom you let into your life.
December 23, 2009
Unexpected impact
One of man's most costly mistakes is doubting that he has immediate impact on the web of people surrounding him and, by consequence, the web of people extending beyond his immediate circle.
If humanity realized that each decision taken permanently alters the social fabric, there might be more thought put into those choices. Their significance might increase in the decider's eyes and the incentive to do the right thing might rise a notch, although I suspect that a substantial bit of society wouldn't want to surrender their romantic notion of "just-this-once" that frees them to make whimsical, reckless decisions.
But take George Bailey's life, for instance. Here is a big dreamer who fantasized about shaping his world in a large-scale, visible way (skyscrapers, airports, etc.) and to experience the exotic. He never got the latter nor did he leave a footprint in the ways he intended, but he did undoubtedly shape his world in a tangible way.
Just by doing his best to make the right choices each day, by settling to work in "ordinary" circumstances, he did extraordinary things. By living each day with integrity, he empowered others to live with dignity.
December 24, 2009
If humanity realized that each decision taken permanently alters the social fabric, there might be more thought put into those choices. Their significance might increase in the decider's eyes and the incentive to do the right thing might rise a notch, although I suspect that a substantial bit of society wouldn't want to surrender their romantic notion of "just-this-once" that frees them to make whimsical, reckless decisions.
But take George Bailey's life, for instance. Here is a big dreamer who fantasized about shaping his world in a large-scale, visible way (skyscrapers, airports, etc.) and to experience the exotic. He never got the latter nor did he leave a footprint in the ways he intended, but he did undoubtedly shape his world in a tangible way.
Just by doing his best to make the right choices each day, by settling to work in "ordinary" circumstances, he did extraordinary things. By living each day with integrity, he empowered others to live with dignity.
December 24, 2009
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Fog
Shimmery ghosts dance before my eyes
unfazed by the headlights that pierce them
Streetlamps give an eerie incandescence
They play tricks on my tired eyes
straining to discern sensory deception vs. reality
Slick, shiny puddles complicate those efforts
I'm partially entranced and irritated
The artist and the pragmatist battle in the moment.
Relief as I turn off my ignition.
December 26, 2009
unfazed by the headlights that pierce them
Streetlamps give an eerie incandescence
They play tricks on my tired eyes
straining to discern sensory deception vs. reality
Slick, shiny puddles complicate those efforts
I'm partially entranced and irritated
The artist and the pragmatist battle in the moment.
Relief as I turn off my ignition.
December 26, 2009
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