Stand for something or you will Fall for anything

Each part of the tapestry of life, is the thread that weaves through the invisible. When the seams are knitted with love, all become manifest and whole in being...gcw may2013

The call  that late November came from my sister and there was the uncertainty and urgency in her voice that my brother Michael, was hospitalized.   She suggested I should try to come back home to Maryland, at the earliest time off allowed.

Michael, a robust 5'10" 225 lb, brick muscle gladiator, rugby player, Master Electrician, devoted father, sometimes ornery brother, was never sick or in hospital for all my life of knowing him.  Michael, was just impenetrable about his positions and opinions.   And Michael taught me the meaning of indomitable will and courage as he fought and battled to hold on to life, with a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. He survived for five months after that call. The night before he died, with a frail body mass of 97 lbs, he bravely ushered in the finality of life, with his signalling proclamation, "I'm outta here".  In the words of his favorite song " For what is a man, what has he got, if not himself then he has not, to do the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who yields, I did it all and I stood tall and did it My Way"  (My Way sung by Frank Sinatra), he died as he lived, with purpose and self discipline.

Within the tapestry of life we encounter the threads of experiences which sew together the quality of the  human being that we clothe ourselves in as character.  When our family, and especially Michael's offsprings remember him, etched in the fabric of his person, are the intricate conviction of  his sense of  values.

We are all part of an ethereal tapestry that is weaved in unknowns.  To comprehend the magnificence of our personal brilliance and the reason for our presence are explorations into the realm of infinite potentiality.

In birth we appear as fragile and helpless, and nothing is more nurturing or life giving as the security of  a mother's womb.  On arrival to our assumed identity, we build character and form definitions of  the image that we conceive as our own.  With all types of influences and impacts from family; from traditions; from rituals; from education; from society;  we become more inclined to demonstrate the part that is most etched in our life training and adopted personalities.

One of Michael's favorite ideologies  and one which is akin to defining his persona, is " Stand for something or you will fall for anything. "   He processed the quality of noble conscience, in his assertion and conviction of manliness.   He was inflexible, assertive and immovable when he took a stance.

During our maturing phases of life, moments of challenge and disquiet are when our chances to welcome and nurture the scripts of  friendship, loyalty, integrity, honesty, fairness, justice, and compassion appear as counsel.   These are the euphemisms of personal character definitions that guide and shepherd us in our journeys of trial and tribulations, hope and despair and personal redemption.  We are characters in the art of life and we portray our roles with our personal scripts.  Shakespeare's As you Like It

 "  All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players,  they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts" As You Like It Act 2, scene 7, 139–143

characterizes our mortal existence and our many stages of appearance.

With our exits and entrances, with the many roles we perfect, there is no illusion in memory.  Our cloaks and garments that remain forever to warm the hearts and wipe the tears, are stitched and threaded with favorite and reverenced emotions.  The patches of each of our life's tapestry are colored and fused with our  invisible likeness of being.  The emotions of character are never erased.  Our life is a story of brilliance.  From our unknown beginnings in the birthing passage, to the fragility in our final exits, we remain carved in the gifts we give to others, the many attributes of character formation.

... Integrity, Compassion, Humor, Empathy, Respect, Forgiveness, Compassion, Sincerity, Empathy, any of these or all shown on the above, we chose and live:  What do you stand for?

Original Post: How the Internet gives a voice Jan 15 2013

 This post How the Internet gives a voice was my first post to blogging.  In reviewing my recent posts, the content was lifted.  Luckily, my original text was saved on an external drive.  Thanks to +Syed Faizan Ali  http://www.mybloggerlab.com/2012/03/protecting-your-copyrighted-content.html I put some security to my site.  

Written by:  Grace C Walker  Tuesday, January 15, 2013

How the Internet gives a voice

Rambling somewhere in the echo chambers of my head is a maelstrom of thought responses on how the internet gives me a voice.

Before becoming an indulgent convert to the realm of internet technology and its profuse envelopment of all my interactive intelligence, I was among  its most vocal combatants.  In one of my undergrad Communications classes in the early nineties, I contended that although the advent of the internet and all its promised breakthroughs to espouse connectivity, outreach and enable world globalization to the masses was seen as a cataclysmic popular shift in the medium of communication, its disadvantages were more impervious. 

The bubble of my peripheral scope of limited experience, utilization and internet access at the time suggested that the availability and access to the internet were formulae for further social marginalization and disenfranchisement of those without universal economic parity.  I contended there would be unfair advantages to richer nations.  

I am now a radical convert in 2013

Globalization flourishes. Social injustices are broadcast with warp speed. Worlds politics, religions, militia are under the microscope of the social collective.  We seem to be closer as the Web spreads farther.

Kudos to the advocacy of the +Steve Jobs, +Bill Gates, +Mark Zuckerberg and hosts of other  internet zeitgeists, I thrill and savor and explore and languish in the freedom to be at all ends of the global sphere instantaneously.  From my personal shopping, my politics, my beliefs, my social interest, my scholarly pursuits, my business ideologies, I am wholly and fully immersed in the discoveries that the Internet provides.    

In its most primordial bellow, the Internet Voice is the greatest conduit of human integration for research, access, validation and globalization for any element of thought that one’s mind chooses to conceive and construct.

The 21st century conquistadors are virtual..

It is better to be saved by criticism than to be seduced by praise

Until you rise from ego,  your birthright to illumination will be captive to darkness...gcwalker may2013

Depending on the "who"  that gives the words of wisdom, it causes one to examine and digest the sentiment  "It's better to be saved by criticism, than to be seduced by praise."  These words were shared by my sister Gemma, while driving and discussing people and their behaviors, obsessions and peculiarities.

I googled and found this referenced quote:

"The trouble with most of us is that we would rather be ruined by praise than saved by criticisms. --Norman Vincent Peale.   

I defer to the phrasing context by Gemma for discussion


To entertain the literary inflections stated in the title, it helps that I am part of a very diverse brood of family members with  elder siblings ranging in ages from seventy six to sixty years of age.  I also have throngs of nephews, nieces, and their children and children's children which makes me an honorary great great aunt at my youthful AARP card carrying age of 57. And I proudly claim my discounts, - movies; meals; hotels; travel -  with opportune delight

My siblings and I have managed to forge a mutually respectful and deeply loyal bond with each other even with very distinct and individual personalities. I love the pearls of wisdom that are dispensed by my sibling elders as they offer much food for thought.

On a recent sister weekend retreat at #Wyndham Shawnee Village, Stroudsburg PA, the five sisters from the East Coast, Vicks, Magz, Gemz, Monics and myself, (Val was missed as she lives on the West Coast) picked up our #Travelocity rental,  2013 full size SUV #Dodge Durango from #Avis rental at Washington DC Reagan National Airport and drove to the Poconos in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.

After some logistics maneuvers, and with my iPhone as GPS and my music playlists from Gospel artists, +Yolanda Adams, +Vicki Yohe, +Bebe and Cece Winans, +Marvin Sapp, just a sample,   some +Whitney Houston, +Josh Groban, +Sister Sledge{We are Family} and a variety of iTunes downloads, we headed north on a glorious sunny Saturday, with temperatures ranging in the upper 60s , with slight windy chills in the atmosphere. Well, the music vibes of +Rihanna and +Chris Brown or +Lil Wayne would not have been safe for the seasoned and distinguished ladies!!!

At the Poconos, we settled in our two bedroom rustic two level, step down living room with fire place,  townhouse cottage fitted with every amenity of home away from home and tucked in  for the evening, all worn out from 8 hours of drive.  We managed to take a lunch stop at Applebee's Harrisburg, where the waiter knew that the Gold Margarita was the drink of choice for my connoisseur palate, as he mischievously suggested. Hmmmn,,, Delicious.

The sisterly ladies, staunchly Catholic and devout were considering a Saturday mass attendance en route. Thankfully, being the head driver in charge, and with 2 hours of driving before check in at the Wyndham resort, I pleaded consideration from the elders to sacrifice mass attendance and without discord our trip continued.

On Sunday morning we all congregated downstairs, in the step down kitchen at the ten seater blond oak wood dining table.  With coffee perked, left overs spinach dip and chips from our Applebees lunch, turkey and ham sandwiches, prepared in advance by Vicks, we  churched and fellowshiped.  My sister Maggie described the experience in a later thank you email as follows:

Sisters
they laughed a little louder,
they cried a little softer,
they lived a little stronger,
because they stood together.

We reminisced about our parents Andrew and Rose Walker. Both are deceased. I was 9 when Daddy died . Mammy died December 10 2001. Much of the years of Daddy's life were recalled with humor. Maggie recounted his days as a Chief of Police in the small country district of Mayaro, in Trinidad and Tobago. She shared about our upbringing and talked about  the moral core of who we are. A description that stood out as a memory fixture was Maggie's description of Mammy's parenting.

She stated "Mammy's helicopter parenting was untiring and unshakeable". The way she hovered over her brood was with sharp edged wings and  motor like buzzing energy that began with the break of dawn and ended after all her energies were fully exhausted at the quiet  end of a long day.   A fitting tribute to Mammy shared in memory  quotes by us,  her children and grand/great/ great great/ children was the remembrance of her moral authority.

We talked about missing Val, who lives with her family in California for our sisterfest outing.    I even got an audio clip on my iPhone voice recorder with Val being described as steadfast and daunting in her convictions. We planned to call her to wish her Happy Birthday, later in the evening.  We wrapped up the weekend with promises of repeat vacation times with more family members. Oh! and the sisters did get to view their Sunday mass on EWTN before the brunch recollections.

Why do we have this family bond?

When my sister Maggie first migrated to the States over 45 years ago, it was because of her toils and labor that  all of us siblings-my deceased mother, my deceased brothers, Michael and Brian,  nephews, nieces and their families  have the opportunity to enjoy their own continuing legacies. In the journeys through illnesses, death, loss, separation without each others shoulders to lean on and were it not for the hospitality of Maggie and her family,  there would be no us

During one of my stormy episodes of taking life for granted and not adhering to moral discretion and judicious management of personal undertakings, my elder brother's counsel was both my sword and my salvation.

Experience teaches that many are fools who become so opinionated and ego centered that even the best intentioned advice is shunned as arrogant criticism. Love has been a bitter pill to swallow, and has also been the most healing medicine of forgiveness and gratitude.

With the death of my brother Brian @ 51 in 1998, my mother in 2001 and then my brother Michael in 2003, my siblings have truly experienced grief and sorrow of loss of loved ones. We understand very deeply and emotionally that family is not superficial gestures and worldly demonstrations of love.  It is immeasurable and treasured gift of our presence.

We constantly embrace celebrating one another. We relish occasions to share with each other, especially during the holidays, and the numerous children's birthdays, recitals, baptisms, first communions, that occur practically every month.  When we compliment each other it is genuine and heartfelt, and unsparing. In our criticisms we feel sensitive and there are hurts.My brother Derek is sometimes excruciatingly analytical.  But he is always,  ready to help and lend his expertise and talents when needed.

My most severe critics are my siblings and my loved ones, and the master instructor is my son Daryean,

A sentiment that helps me to place my thoughts on paper was recently shared by my sister.

Is your communication for applause or is it from a place of caring and empowerment?

My hope is that what I convey is from my heart and that it gives authenticity to the things that matter.

By now, you can guess. The applause and praise are dedicated to family.

Our personalities in social media

Social Media is about Relationship Social Media is about People Based on #1 International Best Selling Socialnomics by Erik Qualman

For the sake of public knowledge I am as guilty of and equally suspect as any and all suggested characterizations that I illustrate in my social media personalities virtual chronicles.

Before all the domains in the virtual landscape of Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google, LinkedIn , Blogger, just to name a few,were live, connected, and instantaneously accessible tools of communication, we were much like the tortoise enclosed in protective worlds and moseying along to our safe place of habitat and protected dwellings.

I was especially disdainful to the growing advances of internet technology. It was to me a further separation of societies and a defining division of those with available access and those without.

But I straddled tenuously into the territory of my virtual explorations and with comrades of all ages, locations, interests, perspectives, have found wisdom, insights. amusement and a most colorful assortment of interests and idiosyncrasies from the likes of fellow traversers in virtual reality.

The characters below are based on my own distorted concepts. It is no direct intention to "out" any identity. So if you are inclined to think its you and are honored by mention, please take a bow. If the humor of my musings makes you suspect an offense to you, please take a more salutary bow.

I delight in sharing pictures. Pictures from whence to now. Pictures of me, my immediate family, loved ones friends. Until I understood that everyone is not interested in every picture or video or last place visited, and whether it was sunny cold, or my dog is a pitbull or a "chiwawa" that I enthusiastically share, I began to build my online repository of content.with personal enjoyment.

Some of the most laughable moments online are shared in honest humor and brutal rancor by friends having children episodes, or discussing their weight gain/ loss and describing some of the side effects of digestive malfunctions.  Sometimes private voyeurism is embarrassingly posted,  hmmmnn!! quite accidentally??

What happens on Facebook does not stay on Facebook. Just by an investigating curiosity of some perverted postings, you, me and all who have no need to know about our social proclivities have shared incriminating evidence of our no longer secret follies. Busted!!

Tweens and the under 30 generations are best found Twittering and Instagramming since they have discovered that most of their parents and friends are just discovering social media. While we are having daily postings, sharing jokes, and chatting, tweens and 30 somethingers have migrated to the next techno frontier.

Occasionally they might share a posting to get a Like.  Birthday wishes or events that are neutral and get Likes are their miserly facebook offerings.
,
We have all become marketers. If we can get enough people to Like our pages we can grow our business. If we need to solicit clientele for funding and we need a new audience to buy our services or products we post, we pin and we link.

Some people use the medium as a sounding board to intellectually cuss out their leadership. Some people post their bigotry, their insensitivity , their political posturing and their biased judgements.

For a former diplomat at an international convention in Geneva whose most illustrious career speech detailing her "wining" prowess as part of her official dossier, went viral on social media, it was her unplanned best exit strategy. She was quickly relieved of her post and returned to her home country.

Some people play games and use their work hours for beating the ratings challenges. And after their idle googlings and doodlings, most of all their connections see their games activity on public share. And they invite others to join.  Unknowingly..I suppose.

People with their clandestine agendas are usually unfriended. One friend was quick to exit friend status when seeing activities that the "friend's" nocturnal interests were more exclusive to others.

When I first saw my son's Facebook page under his page pseudonym I quickly sent an inbox note with motherly warning. Please remember public is not private and the wall of information you share can help you or hurt you.!!!!

I follow Atheist, Agnostic, Buddhist and Christian, Judaic, Islamic postings. The most militant subscribers in their doctrines are also those whose fervor for contention is their greatest passion.

I have found new friends, I have discovered people and places. There are the  sharers, posters and those who are quiet choristers. And there are also the ignorers.

Many also share their reasons for not being on social media.

They typically argue that they prefer to maintain a professional persona on sites like LinkedIn . They usually seem to have concerns about private information being public. This is an example of too much info (TMI).   An ex partner is lurking on facebook and  discovers what happened in Vegas is now public info.  This is cause for the claim that 1 of 5 divorces occur because of facebook.

Some of us indulge the adventure of social media to enjoy the magic of virtual exploration. For me discoveries are exciting, amusing, illuminating, and engrossing as I survey this human constellation in the social media virtual space galaxy.

Within this landscape we are all the artists. We are a colony of thoughts, ideas, dreams and fantasies. We are posting and sharing and nonetheless entertaining with our palette of varied substance.

So delicious are the tastings, that there is always plentiful and bountiful artistry to relish and savor.

How to welcome Fear and Turbulence

The emptiness that feels overwhelming, the bottomless agony of despair are immediate thoughts that emotionally describe the insecurities of fear and turbulence.

In reading the book Dying to be Me by +Anita Moorjani , the most provoking theme is that death is indescribably timeless and limitless. The most cathartic revelation of her near death experience is the welcome assurance, that in the death experience there is absolute peaceful bliss, rather than drowning fears.

Using the Anita Moorjani story as a contradictory reference there is a new prism to the dimension of fear for thought review.

When confronted with the fangs of fear,  we become emotionally psychologically and physically paralyzed. It is crippling, it is destructive and we feel helpless.  This state of mental and emotional torment and imprisonment is as if there is no release or escape and we are trapped in the bondage of thought and shackled inertia.

In faith, fear has been  the discriminating divide. From a prophet named Jesus,  whose life story is etched in the practice of love of, to and for all, christians have created  the niche religion mentality to suit their preferred denominations.  From Judaism to Islamic practices, the fear of God mantra, is intentionally imposed on worshipers and non worshipers alike, with equal disdain.   (Disclosure: I am not knocking anyone's  faith practices, traditions, beliefs.  I have a very fundamental core religion based faith. I know the intimacy of experiencing faith and the comfort and solace in tradition and ritual).

The fear and turbulence that we are constantly striving to overcome are uncomfortably habitual.  They are there at all times and are always feeding in our most vulnerable and weakest moments.  As we encounter situations which ignite fear, such as  the fear of dying, the fear of loss, the fear that is ever present in our daily struggles, the need for the extraordinary is most desired. The trouble is however, that the onset of fear, and the turbulence in its wake, create alarming despair and hopelessness.  The state of despair is despotic and ruthless.   The energy of fatedness is not in any state of mind to enjoy the extraordinary.

For example the need for money when the reality of bills is overwhelming and circumstance, situation, lack of, relation issues, sickness, ( .. we can fill in our very own blanks in this script) ,  the stranglehold of fear creeps up and we begin to acknowledge our phobias and disappointments.  When there are no answers that can actualize immediate and needed results to a despairing situation, fear wraps its groping arms around our withering shells. Fear is not an abstract and is as potent and as the poison of a serpent's sting.

Because fear and turbulence are constant...they surface without invitation and wreak unwelcome havoc on the sentiment of being.  The opportunity to court our fears, to find an elixir of comfort, to marry the experience of anxiety with the sensation of awareness is the internal opposing discourse of mind and matter.

Is it therefore logical, that we have the wherewithal to resist the fear that dwells and already inhabits the dimensions of our spirit and mind?    I admit, it is too difficult a theme that can be articulated by a "me" sermon .  My thoughts are shaped by my experience. So are those of each and everyone else. My attempt  to discuss fear and turbulence is a mere shadow of the proportional gravity of this topic.  I do not presume to know methodologies and philosophies and theologies that are cures for any of us ailed by the symptoms of fear.

Here is the much of the little that I can say.  Although the fears that are lurking in the many shadows of my life show up and cause me deliberate disorientation and insolent distress, they also cause me to get into survival mode.  They cause me to become purpose filled and purpose driven. In the throes of the opportunistic meltdown moments I irrationally seek reasoning and interior growth.  With each blow of despondency, my spirit responds with a rationale that defies circumstance. I find the sorrow in my weakness to be the bounty in my resolve.  My answers are never immediate to my needs. But there is one thing that fear will never capture, and it is my history. I look back, and in spite of, the unseemly odds, I have not become captive to fear.

In synopsis, my intimate experience of spiritual kinship with the Christ  narrative is scriptured by the Apostle Matthew, Chapter 4 verse 1-11 where the psychosis of fear is provokingly established.  While in a place of destitution and hunger fear suggests one is incompetent.  Fear suggests that succumbing to the perils of brokenness will alleviate suffering.  Fear feasts on the fragility of the mind, and begs to inhabit and claim dominance of the will to be strong, at our weakest.

Fear and turbulence are the precursors to unborn potential and possibilities. Sometimes in the snatch of disquiet, the imagination is propelled and we birth and crystallize the unfathomable. And fear becomes a welcome comrade.

Abundance manifests

All of beauty in its natural splendor and bounteous harvest is fervent with abundance.
Not to keep, but share. In.generosity. Always. ...Grace

The very concept of abundance is a shift to a new thought paradigm. The mindset to attract abundance , after the experience of the absence of the respect for what it means to have abundance, is metamorphosis. A shift is occurring. An awareness is birthing. It is the awakening and the welcoming of the invisible unknown to become manifest with potent and vivid deliverance. As with the birthing of a desired expectancy it comes after labored and prolonged perplexities.

Abundance manifests.

With mindful thought and action, and in rythymn with the universe, the intention of the mind, heart, soul and spirit finds the path that leads to alignment with the gift, Abundance. My history as scrolled in the pages of my thoughts is scoured in perception of unmet expectations. The reality is, I have been in receipt of constant abundance amidst the prevailing distractions.

In childhood, I lost my father at age 9 and automatically developed the symptomatic orphan mentality. My sense of dreams, aspirations, ambitions were foiled in the actuality of poverty circumstance against the backdrop of limitation and disempowerment. The illusion of limitation seeped into my psyche and I was not aware.

Whitney Houston rendered these lyrics, "I didn't know my own strength "and from her voice to my heart, I sucked in the meaning of each word as it filtered through each pore of my being and my soul responded. As the process of catharsis unfolds, the discovery of innermost radiance and abundance ensues.

From birth to now, I have been always shrouded in the legacy of abundance.  Being  cared for, nurtured and richly nourished by a powerfully prescient mother figure, along with siblings who empowered and engendered stability, perseverance, endurance, fortitude, dignity, nobility, and ostensibly abundant grace were not occasional sharings of generosity but perpetual gifts of overflowing deliverance.

As a developing teen, my perception of self was fraught with inner turmoil and discomfort. Not uncommon to adolescent dispositions, the need to be likeable is the disease of youthful arrogance and insecurity. Unless, you discover your niche, it is a constant interplay of desire vs need. For some the desired self idealization is entertained in the glorification of  sportsmanship, beauty,  talents, wealth, and scholarship. For me, the subtlety of the desired was to embrace a need for belonging. The gravity of the emotional loss of a devoted and adoring parent left a dulling void. So in order to compensate and find comfort, it was folly appeal to be self effacing and self diminishing. Numbed were the gifts of self mastery and self abundance. Serial exploits in limitation become the norm.

At pivotal markers of adult years, the fleeting grasp of abundance was courted with momentary savor. The romance of abundance was short lived and left a  path of devastation in its wake. In awakening to the gift of discomfort one is kept aroused in mystery and aching for fulfillment. In the chasm of challenge, and seeking, there emerges the appeal of yearning for understanding. It is in this struggle to manifest, that the mystery of abundance is the discovery of majesty that does not equate with seeking possessions, wealth and luxury.

Abundance and wealth are not synonymous. Wealth and the value associated with quantity is the least of the harvest and the treasury of abundance.Poverty does not describe being. With generous and wholesome desire, money and the exchange of goods,  services, benefits are fixtures of economic measure. Simple exquisite abundance is to discover awakened clarity of generous abundance.

In order to validate abundance it is opportune to validate loss. Without abandonment, emotional security is an abstract.  Without the experience of brokenness, emptiness, barrenness the idea of manifesting abundance is an aimless ploy of self flagellation.

The riches of abundant grace are the mistakes,  mishaps and missteps that come in the illusion of disgrace.

The principles of  abundant stewardship are :-  to be humble in adversity, to be kind without measure, to trust with infinite conviction and to persevere against all odds.  These are not testimonials of worldly endowments, it is the unquenchable, insatiable, amazingly radiant, grace of abundance.

For me, and perhaps the many, our struggle, strife, barriers and roadblocks are the strengths and victories we overcome to welcome our destiny,our Abundance.

Many Faces of Grace

Lately I have heard the noises in the silence. They are those of family, friends acquaintances who are mostly puzzled or unnerved or feel disquieted with my public openness.

The most recent of remarks comes from an individual who I have known for over 25 yrs. The most unique description I ascribe to this person is "the absence of being."

A self professed scholar, and worldly voyager. By his own account a qualified medical professional.   In two and a half decades, there has been no concrete evidence that the very existence of this individual is verifiable.

 In hearing my deliberate truth of my life circumstance, I was told that his remark  was, "Poor Grace!!

During my divorced 30s I was involved with a Mohamed from. Somalia. He professed to be of royal lineage and in addition to attending Georgetown University Law School, and driving a cab for a living, he was able to afford the best Italian made suits for his weekend clubbing devotions.

Masked under the guise of pseudo debonair and as good looking as my deceased father
was , he possessed the sadistic chauvinism of a militant and abusive con artist.

This discovery was made after a over indulgent alcohol induced sleep, while snoring obnoxiously on my sofa and the wallet on his person happened to reveal a name and identity of someone other than who I was told I knew. Because of his dastardly abusive behaviors earlier, I came close to conceiving the slaughter of a rabid creature.

The, Mohamed, like every other asylum seeking Muslim refugee from East Africa as I pejoratively reference, and cohorts like my "absence of being" individual were the regulars of the weekend clubbing establishments when we first became acquainted.

The other synonym mired in the bosoms of concerned relations is Public Grace.

I don't know about you. But these are the shoes I've been fitted with. I am walking a very jagged road strewn with calamitous pitfalls that begs for scrutiny and abject reasoning.

We're I a medieval character I would be flogging myself to a blistered pulp, because lest I am destined for some kind of sainthood, I must be chosen for the, woe is me,challenges of the cross.

In modern day era of economic wellness and comparative necessities, I am bereft of tangible evidence of what matters and my lack of virtuous silence is not saintly

There is the ego seeking to carve a niche. By reading my blogs or viewing my 57 th birthday video there is a plethora of public information to garner bias, prejudice, pity or applause.Becoming Grace @ 57

In December 2012, the public Grace without apology elicited funding for assistance in a distressed SoS appeal to family and friends. Dressed stylishly elegant and presenting a picture of poised glamor, my truths may have looked suspiciously dubious.

My intimate family members and friends were the most critical, the most cynical and the most generous in thoughts, words and deeds.

Of all the mix of emotions and concerns, there was levity and humor. One family member shared.."to be so bold is most admirable, but if you plan to invite alms giving, at least look the part."

Ultimately, I am Abundant Grace. I do not know if, why, how, what.

In recent months I have ached in symbiotic synergy in the perils of broken trusts as a witness in the journey of my own son's choices, chances, mysteries.

We are sharing parallel experiences. The most constructive advice is given with the best intention. I am also guilty of volunteering my thoughts through negative vibrations. The most repeated recommendations are to stop being a mother. Though not in the exact words, but with the intended sentiment.

As I have been told, when I adopt a villain persona and presume that I can perpetrate a heinous act against an enemy, my son quickly reminds me, that it is not my nature.

When I look at the trees through each season, I am filled with awe and amazement. Trees that were dead twigs blossom in the Spring. Until they are no longer, they are cared for. Somehow, Mother Nature knows. And trees innately know they are never abandoned.

As I trod through all of my preambles, my sojourns are laden with many trials, hardships, fears and unknowns. The part of me that is innermost , that has no public appeal, persona or embodiment , lives, thrives, breathes only because I know, who is Abundant Grace. Without Abundant Grace, I will be shattered.

Therefore, but for Divine Grace, I am.

The exit zone ... A tale of Beans and Rice

My body chemistry is really so much more fine tuned than I give credit to.

I can eat 2 meals a day and am filled. If I eat more butter, bread, fries, cake, I automatically bloat. The poundage just plasters itself and seals any means of shrinkage to a throbbing fat cell, with gluttonous satiation.

In my mind I know the extra fifty pounds I carry is just a continuous rivalry between my Monroesque proportions and the big girl hiding in comfort flab.

Big girl Phoebe is chronically selfish and a ruthlessly jealous of her alter persona Marilynesque. So I cater to both.

Today, with hunger for the second meal of the day around 6p, the Popeyes wing and breast, with red beans and rice was clearly an invitation to warfare.

With a triple glasses of cold and refreshing juice "extract" mango pineapple orange beverage, my body automatically started into a hastened lethargic sleep needy comatose stupor.

The effects of the beans and rice were highly toxic and combustible.

And under Mimzy's, - introducing my Granma pseudonym - watch is my ever ready battery adrenalin fueled 5 yr old Rayl.

Slipping quickly into a food induced catatonic lazy, I pleaded with Rayl to delight in her Disney channel amusements and hoped her Daddy would soon be home to the rescue.

I declined her requests to have video dance presentations where she would delight me with her choreography and I would be jest fully videoing her frenzied moves.

By Daddy's arrival I was sailing on my magic carpet ride.

Five hours after and the effects of beans and rice are wearing off. Phoebe is languishing in her foray with the food that makes her palette salivate. The same delights that would send her digestive system into septic shock.

Monroesque infatuations of fitting that size 14 dress and wishing it looked like a 12 are in the immediate forecast.

Phoebe, Marilyn, Mimzy, these wanton pleasures would paralyze any youthful momentum lurking within the 57 year body you work so hard to cherish and maintain

My body has spoken... Pay attention. Beans and rice, fried chicken and juice cocktails are in the exit zone.

Dream On

We dreamers have our way, of facing rainy days and sometimes we survive
We keep our feelings warm, protect them from the storm, until our time arrives
Then one day the sun appears, and we come shining through those lonely years....

lyrics from I made it through the rain sung by Barry Manilow

What medicine can be prescribed to hope, to trust and to adorn  "belief" that allows one to dream on?    I am really stretching my quotient of fortitude to herald the possibility of  life purpose.  I am struggling in this incarnation to actualize my dream and embrace my life purpose

In my likeness of being, I am very aware, understanding, sympathetic and emotionally cognizant of why I am and whose I am.  I do not underestimate gratitude for the blessings.   The maladies of poor health- crises of unbearable proportions  -disease - disasters - unconscionable pain that we as a community of living share are the mirrors of my own self indulgence.  But, the "I" is ever in struggle and I want to taste and imbibe that euphemistic sense of accomplishment and completion.

From the many rags to riches, the "once was blind and now I see", the spiritual journey to faith, the victories from the desert of despair, the world is engorged with lofty profusion in stories of all who have walked their life paths and reached their worldly nexus.  The worldly distribution of all that can be amassed is still most disproportionately imbalanced and I find that the struggle to be most burdensome. 

Our generation of the post baby bloomers, the generation Xs, the millennials are inundated with maps for charting our lives to purpose, to prosperity, posterity, and social definition.  The philosophy of being is commerced with possibility. We dream to be.

Marilyn Monroe,  a figment of being,  lived her life shadowed by the farce of beauty and hypersensitive sensuality.   Michael Jackson, caricatured his artistry of being, to be masked under the veils of fantasy.  Steve Jobs, supreme guru of ibeing, masterfully proliferated world reachability with touch and sound.  Martin Luther King Jr. prophetically rendered the I have a Dream speech, and in witness to his dream, a President Barack Obama emerged.

What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve. The cornucopia of related beingness is ever accessible and readily available. From Ebay to Amazon any purchaseable item is within seconds of ownership,  subject to one's disposable income. The creation of billionaires have increased exponentially. From AOL, the now almost extinct dinosaur of internet entre to Google the playground of virtual connectivity, we are constantly talking, and wooing, and exchanging, and garnering information for more dissemination. And our minds are constantly wanting and dreaming of the indefatigable more.

With Facebook and other social media platforms, such as Twitter, LinkedIn, we invite ourselves to discuss and relate with family, friends strangers, the public,  about every nuance that shapes our beingness.  At my discretion, just like managing my palette for food, I can be aggressively consumptive in my utilization of virtual engagement.  Apart from my own meanderings, public pronunciations, confessions, demonstrations of poetic license,  it is also my desire for understanding more of the whole, that keeps me curiously engaged.

Oprah shows the majestic being of what could be.  Her treasury is overflowing. Her wealth, her achievement, her accomplishments are testimonials of grandiose empowerment.  She dreamed that she would be bigger than the circumstance that she was born into. From the outside looking in, I heartfully and earnestly salute the richness of her demonstrations of being.

Tyler Perry uses the myriad of challenging circumstances that would have undeniably stalled even the most daring of dream seekers to demonstrate the power of what can be. He merchandises the "If" factor....He presents the gift of his being cloaked in humor, and bathed in welcome prosperity

When T D Jakes describes the beginnings of his journey to becoming one of  the most successful leaders in the realm of ministry, it resonates the Dream and belief potency.

Wayne Dyer, Caroline Myss, Marianne Williamson and a burgeoning army of spiritual intuitives all resounding eschew the mental firmament of self awakening, self ascension, self resurrection.  For the flock of the faithful, believing is the spiritual serum of salvation.  The litany of quotes from the Secret is touted with philanthropic spewings.  Every speaker, writer, blogger has become the pundit on matters of what one desires to become.

Innumerable volumes of works and theories are expounded on what the passion to dream entails. From the most scholarly and literary sciences our dream patent is encrypted with exploratory details and flourishing disguises.

With my posts, I am in a constant state of  wonder. In my state of wonder, I am writing my life examination.  The tests are plagued with refining and modifying the given circumstance with the desired result.  What I have wished could have been, hasn't.  The gift of understanding the dilemma of my existence is trapped in the shackles of disappointment.

As the blueprint of life unravels without the success roadmap in approachable reach, it  makes the inspiration and the aspiration to live the dream seem unrealistic.

Nonetheless, there is a drama unfolding and the script is being perfected.  I am wrestling  the burden of embracing all that is not mine to have. Without the measure of wealth, success, and all the things that I continue to dream will unleash my inexhaustible potentiality, without the  tangible expressions of the realization of security, without the diminished returns for all my life experiences, I would not be me.

Even in eyes of misfortune, I celebrate that I am yet unfinished. In the dearth of the unexplainable, the darkness of the soul, as described by Caroline Myss in her book Spiritual Madness, I passionately desire to be more.

As with all who are conflicted, and torn, and even demented by the ongoing dream to experience their earthly " I am more than any of the limitations of my awareness" I continue my quest with unquenchable  passion and I and you, we must Dream On.


This song is what I am saying...We Dreamers have our way  Of facing rainy days, and sometimes we surviveWe dreamers have our way


 

Beyond the housing industry crisis who gets the profits

I spent my Sunday selectively enjoying the choices of TV viewing that would be most uplifting, ...Oprah's Soul Sunday and my take away was" A partnership between equals for the purpose of spiritual growth". as defined by Gary Zukav describes the spiritual relationship ..a soulmate.    And then I also wanted to be intelligently entertained.

I locked in to the Showtime series House of Lies and watched all twelve episodes of the first season.

Oh boy!!! Entertainment kudos!!!!

Between the under the cover, in the boardroom, under the desk and ever constant sextilating encounters, the management consulting stories are vivid truisms of art imitating life.

As a former Deloitte Project Coordinator, who experienced the "beached" effect,   the character Marty, played provocatively by Don Cheadle courses you through the management consulting culture language interpretations. The terminology "beached" means- you are about to be dumped or thrown to the sharks.

I was gleefully amused by Episode 4.

The Principal of Marty's sons' school explains unambiguously that she was a former Project Manager at Deloitte and knew the tactics that Marty was using to manipulate his cause.

Gosh,,!!! I felt so kindred to the story because it was no longer art.  I was the story.
And just like in the show, when the management pod was sent in to eliminate the existing team, I was told to sail on.

But it was even more extraordinary.

Episode 1 House of Lies essentially deals with the foreclosure crisis. Starkly truthful were the realities of who benefitted most from the Obama Administrations efforts to quell the housing industry meltdown.

This was not art and theatre and characters.

I lost my home.  The bank that first declared their insolvency Indy Mac; one of the many benefactors of bailout protection; now operates as Onewest;  has not agreed to participate in the February 2013 payout settlement .  OneWest continues to bonus its shareholders, retain high paying legal and management consulting companies.  For myself and others, we have yet to be given a means of due process and restitution.

I purchased the house Rockville Md 20853 in October 1998. I completed over $100000 in renovations over the years. I lost the home October 2009.

As I viewed this episode of House of Lies, I felt the truth of what and who have profited from the mortgage crisis to be a very personal and familiar wound.


Again, the takeaway from the Showtime episode, (barring all the excesses, sex drugs etc..) is that profits were squandered and corporate greed prevailed.

And I have yet to recover.

http://www.sho.com/sho/house-of-lies/season/1/episode/1