The games we humans play!
 
Earlier this evening I was thinking of the question, which came first - the chicken or the egg? The question is endlessly fascinating and unanswerable because, of course we cannot have the chicken without the egg and we cannot have the egg without the chicken.  The question of first causes has occupied the mind of we humans since we humans were first able to “pen” the language of hieroglyphics.  The issue of first cause seems important to we human because we seem to need to understand our place in the world. As so many others, including the poet and philosopher David Whyte, have pointed out one of the distinguishing characteristics of we humans is that we are not okay being ourselves.  We want to know our place in the hierarchy of importance which we have posited.  In fact, we want to know that we occupy a superior place in the hierarchy of beings in this and possibly other universes.  Perhaps the first cause is a superior being which we may choose to call God, Allah, I am, or some other name.  if that be the case, we seem to have a need to believe that of all the beings we are the most similar to this superior being or entity we call the God of our understanding.  We do not, of course stop with possible answer to the issue of first cause, but go on to further posit theories of which humans are the most important or worthy of this superior being or entity.  We may refer to our theory as “the truth” as opposed to thinking of our theory of a particular truth. 
 
Being the creative beings that we are, we establish hierarchy of importance based on gender, race, a particular higher being, country, or some other arbitrary or imagined difference.  Often we males have determined that a patriarchal organizational of society is the “natural’ order. In such a society we males are in charge and make all the important decisions  Riane Sisler authored a book published by Harper Coliins in 1987 entitled The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future which presented the results of research which strongly suggested that the method of dating artifacts used to prove that the first human communities were patriarchal was inaccurate and that the correct method proved that the first communities were matriarchal and organized  as communities where the objective was to share resources and tasks.
 
Many communities, countries and religions continue to function as Patriarchal models where males are in charge of important decisions and females are often regulated to a secondary role meaning that of the old of worker bee.   It is not surprising that some noted business leaders such as Margaret Heffernan advocates and practices a more cooperative management approach as contrasted to a top down management.
approach.
 
The term pissing contests can refer to an actual urination contest – higher, further – between adolescent and young men and sometimes between adolescent and young woman.  If one is interested one can find graphic depictions of such pissing contests.   It is also not surprising that slang terms for the male penis have also become synonymous with males who are mistreating others, especially woman. For example, “He is a dick.”  (one does not really want to imagine someone as a giant phallic symbol although some of theorized that the tie is a phallic symbol) is a term for someone who wants to control others. We know that rape is a common expression of control over females.
 
 
Wikipedia and other sources suggest that “Since the 1940s the term has been used as a slang idiomatic phrase describing contests that are "futile or purposeless", especially if waged in a "conspicuously aggressive manner".[2] As a metaphor it is used figuratively to characterise ego-driven battling in a pejorative or facetious manner that is often considered vulgar.[3]
 
Fucking is another term seemingly increasingly used in public or ‘polite” society to denote both the physical act of having sex which need not be burdened with an emotional connection, the physical act of using sex as a power “tool” or, at times, an affectionate, playful term when making love.
 
Sexual addiction is about using the sexual organ as a means of attempting to fill a void which never quite works.
 
Individuals such as David Whyte may be correct in asserting in his interview with Krista Tippett on the NPR program “on Being”: Well, one of the interesting qualities of being human is, by the look of it, we’re the only part of creation that can actually refuse be to be ourselves.”  So we use a part of our anatomy or much of our intellectual capacity to find ways of avoiding ourselves while paradoxically attempting to prove we are more than or better than.
 
Being a “dick” becomes synonymous with distancing ourselves from ourselves and from others.
 
One of the interesting questions is whether competition can encourage creativity and used to push ourselves to be our best or whether competition invariably leads to needing to be better than. Do we really need winners and losers or can we all be winners?  Is competing in sports a serious “pissing contest” or just we humans having fun (for a lot of money).
 
It seems clear to me that when we males attempt to use control over women to prove our self-worth no one benefit long term.  It is fascinating and sad to me that historically much of our behavior as males is to impress or prove something to other males.  We continue to desire women sexually, to use them sexually and to want them to be caretakers for we and our children, but that does not imply respect as equals.
 
Pissing contests are not about gender per se.  Certainly many professional women have copied the patriarchal pissing contest model.  There are also males who are matriarchal in their life dance – men who honestly like, desire and respect females - men who want to do a cooperative life dance.
 
Patriarchal and matriarchal have nothing to do with body parts. Women who are determined to prove that their worth either have a literal or metaphorical pissing contest.
 
Patriarchal and matriarchal also have nothing to do with sexual orientation.  Sadly, many, if not most, men who feel they need to prove themselves with other males, are heterosexual sexually but fear driven professionally and politically.   Many men who are do not need to prove themselves to other men but who may be sexually attracted to other men are comfortable with women as equals.
 
It is interesting that when we find the male phallus being used symbolically we may need to expect to find a pissing contest or an attempt to control women.
 
Written April 27, 2016
 
 

​My mother, Daily Ethel Drake Pickett died today, April 28th, 2016. Two of my sisters, Bonnie and Pat, took care of her for many of the last of her 96 years thus allowing her to remain in her own apartment. She has also had the support and care of an angel, Joyce, to help with her daily needs. 
 
Her life had become more and more limited.  She was tired and ready to leave this part of her journey. 
 
Many people have given love, support and prayers the past few days to Daisy add her extended family.  It was and is much appreciated and treasured.   It is indeed true that the most powerful thing we can do is to be present with each other and to offer support when needed.
 
I was blessed to join two of my sisters, Pat and Bonnie, some of her grandchildren, their families and a few friends  to be with her for much of the last 4 and ½ days. 
 
I will return to posting blogs tomorrow.  Many of the recent blogs have been about this process of walking for and with each other during the good and the difficult times.  Again I am reminded of what all the wise, spiritual men and women have taught.  Jesus, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, The Buddha, Muhammed and others taught that we simply have to be present to ourselves, to each other and to the God of our understanding.  Certainly it is important to help with the practical matters, but if we are present we will know what is needed and offer our labor, time, and hearts.  It really is that simple.  It is easy for we humans to allow expectations, old resentments, anger and other negative feelings to keep us from being present.  When we do we all lose.
 
Once again, thanks to all who were able to be so lovingly present, helpful and supportive. I know that each member of the family of Daisy will play it forward in unique and loving ways.
 
Jimmy F. Pickett
 
April 28, 2016

In God’s time?
 
As I was reading The Wall Street Journal, the Huffington Post, and other on line news reports I was also thinking of families and  relationships.   I am tempted when reading news or responding to friends and clients who are going through a tough time to get snarly with the God of my understanding.   
 
Of course,  I am inclined to think that the God of my understanding is taking a nap or on vacation.  I mean, really!   There are serious issues affecting many countries including many waging war in the name of the God of their understanding, so-called natural disasters, many making more money than is in the big bank in the sky (what is the interest rate these days), and many are living  without food, clothing or medical care.   I sit here in a hospital room with my one sister while our mother lives out another day for no apparent reason.  Later today the family has to face the fact that the hospital is not allowed by insurance coverage to keep her since there is no more they can do medically to help her heal/recover.
 
I respond to email and texts from people who are hurting because they cannot have the love relationship they so desperately want and deserve.   Many feel angry, lonely, and overwhelmed with being single parents or the responsibility for the care of other loved ones.
 
As my readers know, I have been thinking a lot lately about the various stories which have shaped and continue to shape my story.  Of course, my story also affects and helps to shape the story of others. My acts of omission and commission affect others profoundly.   I don’t do enough. I do too much. I am insensitive.  I am sugar coating issues and events. I speak in platitudes. I am too direct.  I am not direct enough!
 
I listen to others here at the hospital where I have been staying with other family members as we sit attempting to give meager comfort to mother who is tired and ready for whatever follows this life journey.
 
I just responded to an email and “heard myself’ offering a not very comforting reminder, “All in God’s time.  We always get what we need to grow spiritually and emotionally.”  At the same time part of me feels.   “Oh yeah!  When He, She or  “I am” gets up from their totally unnecessary siesta or end of winter/early spring vacation perhaps something will happen.”  In the meantime, the world is falling apart despite the magic of Apple watches, 3-D printing, stem-cell research and treatment, and the amazing music, writing, dance, and other art we humans offer up each day.  Some of those with whom I chatted this morning ache with love that they cannot share because of various factors.  Obviously these are factors which a God of one’s understanding, if He, She, It had any power or compassion could easily remedy.  Yet, nothing.  Or so it seems.
 
The beauty of having lived as many years as I have is the increasing ability to “see” how all the pieces of this journey fit together. If  A had not happened, B could not have happened and then C could not have happened and so forth.   Given the fact that I have long been a student of systems – only on the conceptual level and minimally on the practical level – it is fascinating to me that  all the blessings in my life were dependent on all the past events of my life.  I receive a  loving Facebook/message note from my first wife, the mother of our son, with whom I shared a volley of accusations at a point on (or is it in)  the vortex of our journey.  At one point in that marriage when I was also a graduate student, working, the father of a new child, and getting ready for professional exams, I was standing in Washington Park convinced that like Humpty Dumpty I was soon going to fall  and break into a million hurting pieces and could never be reassembled!  Didn’t He, She, It, know that I could only take so much?
 
I could and have spent hours regretting that I treated dear friends like a piece of the wedding cake which we could and did put in the freezer to take out and  enjoy a year or more later.  
 
The moments  of abject loneliness which could have been relieved by the person who I “knew” was meant to be my nurturing life partner if put together could  fill the space destroyed by mountain top mining in West Virginia.  If only He, She, It would have been paying attention and not cavorting with the souls of  the deceased, I would have gotten exactly what I needed to have the life I deserved. If only…..
 
The irony is, of course, that if any of those past events were changed I would not be sitting here in the hospital room of my mother with my sisters and various others who come by to offer words of love, a smile or a joke.  My life, at this moment, is, even from the limited often selfish perspective of this human, perfect.
 
Darn!  All those seemingly annoying platitudes are true. Apparently the God of my understanding is not sleeping, off on vacation or intermingling while taking advantage  of now legal marijuana (I suppose the earthly laws do not make a universal difference.) and doing “God knows what!”  I do indeed get exactly what I need to grow spiritually.  It is all good.  Well,  except for ….    “No exceptions?” Surely…   Nope.  None!
 

Written  April 26, 2016

​Beyond criminalization
 
In an April, 2016 interview with Krista Tippett, Michelle Alexander, the civil rights attorney, mother, and advocate for racial justice asks the question, “Who do we want to become:  Beyond the new Jim Crow?” As I have mentioned in previous blogs, the incarceration rate of our African American kids and adults as well as poor people of other races continues to escalate.  Once convicted of a felony, a person has a very difficult time obtaining a job, housing or otherwise building a life for themselves.  Ms. Alexander points out that one in two black people has or will have someone from their family in prison.  One in four Caucasian women will have someone in jail.   Additionally, she points out that there are an increasing number of individuals and organizations who are advocating to change the practice of labeling so many as criminals and to offer treatment and help to individuals instead.   We all need to join this fight. We know that labeling someone a criminal makes it very difficult, if not impossible, to craft a decent life for themselves and their families.  Jails have become the place where we send addicts, those with mental illness as well as those we have been taught to dislike.  
 
I am, of course, delighted that so many more people in the United States are insisting that we put the just back in justice. Being angry at someone or taking away rights and treating them as a third class citizen has not been shown to be an effective approach.  Yet, it is ironic that some of us who are standing up for the disenfranchised are sometimes the same ones who want those responsible for the reprehensible treatment of some of our brothers and sisters to be subjected to the very system we know has failed so many.  For example, when a police officer directly kills teenagers as in Ferguson and Baltimore there is a call for charges and conviction.  This is very understandable.  We all want some public recognition by the authorities that this sort of behavior – this killing of our children and others – is unacceptable and will be stopped.   It was reported that in Ferguson when the jury failed to indict Darren Wilson in Michael Brown’s death, violence flared/erupted.  
 
Of course, I understand why it seems only “fair” that the police officers and other officials be held to the same standard of justice as those we the community determine feel are the least of the least.  Yet, we need to ask the same questions we are demanding of our police and other elected officials.  These questions include:
 
      Do we lock up these police officers and symbolically throw away the key? This action will ruin the life of the person we lock up, ruin or severely damage the life of his or her family, and require a great deal of public money to charge, convict and keep this person in a cage for years.
      Do we want to react or show others a more loving, effective approach to justice?
      If we are going to create yet another throw-away person why not just kill them and be done with it?  Our actions say: “You are worthless. You will always be worthless.  You deserve us to be disconnected from love and be mistreated.”
      If we are going to react out of love and change the system what would that change look like?
      What is the job we want and expect police and other in the judicial system to do?
 
All the advocates for change in our judicial system say that we must stop defining people by their most thoughtless, sometimes cruel and/or stupid behavior.   We know that all of we humans are sometimes just plain stupid, self-righteous, or have some other impairment which does not allow us to see that we are all necessary and important members of the whole.
 
Sometimes some of we humans are so stuck in our self-centered, cruel behavioral pattern that there seems to be little hope that we can find a way for them to connect or reconnect to the rest of the community.   Many factors affect how the brain functions and, thus, what thoughts a person has.  There are amazing discoveries proving that the anti-social behavior of individuals with such diseases or conditions as Autism, Alzheimer’s, depression, and brain tumors among others  may prevent a person from making positive changes.  Certainly in my years of being a professional counselor I have met individuals who were frighteningly dangerous.  I have worked for/with individuals who were professional hit people, serial abusers or unable to stop their compulsive, obsessive “need” to seek sexual contact with pre-pubescent children.  None of these people ordered up from the general store which has now morphed into Amazon a dysfunctional brain which is unable to consider the sacredness of others. Some of these individuals may need to be in a safe, loving environment where they are unable to harm themselves or others.
 
I have no idea what changes are possible for Darren Wilson.  Let us suppose, for a minute that his behavior in shooting Michael Brown was consistent with  learned behavior and  beliefs which the community expect him  as a police officer to do. Let us further suppose that the goal is to change his behavior and his beliefs.   Notice that the goal is not punishment.  We, as a community, could:
      Make him a member of a think tank to design a more loving and effective program for those not now making healthy decisions and who are on the road to a life of violating the rights of themselves and others.   He would be working with trained, research scientists who would teach him the rules and parameters of solid, scientific research.
      Develop and co-teach a course on non-violence to junior high and high school students.
      Teach a class in a workshop setting whose task it was to develop a program for dealing with troubled individuals.
      Require that he get a degree in philosophy. Some research studies have shown that teaching philosophy courses to homeless people helped them to begin to think differently and, to eventually make healthier decisions.
      Identify and invite him to chart the development of anti-social or racist beliefs.
 
None of these suggestions would cost as much or more than our current judicial system.  It would be a win-win for the entire community.  
 
Once a new program was instituted we would need to ensure it was consistently applied to all people regardless of race, gender, or financial status. This might require the public education and re-training of some attorneys or mediators who would make the same salary as teachers and other professionals.
 
There are many pieces to this system. One also would have to deal with the unemployment of all those associated with the very expensive, privatized prison/jail system in the United States.
 
Another piece is the need to engage the help of forgiveness experts such as those who had friends and relatives die in the shooting in the South Carolina Church.  What makes these people able to formulate such a unconventional, loving response? Can they teach this approach?
 
Written April 25, 2016

​Innocence
 
I found myself thinking of the term innocence this morning.   It is, after all, Sunday and in the religious tradition in which I grew up, Sunday was the Sabbath.  Growing up I incorrectly thought that Sunday was the Sabbath for everyone.  Although not a religious family, my siblings and I sometimes attended church school.  As a high school student I joined the Southern Baptist Church.   My paternal grandmother Pickett did, at some point in her adult life, become more religious although our mother did not understand or, perhaps did not trust, this conversion.    The Christian Church assured all who entered its hallowed doors that they, if they accepted Jesus Christ as their personal savior and ask to be forgiven of their sins, could spend eternity with Christ.  To this end, the sanctified members of the church would pray for and over those of us who continued to live in a state of sin.  It was clear that we were all sinners although we could choose to live in a state of Grace if we obeyed all the rules.  In addition to the Ten Commandments there was a long list of potential sins.    No one, except perhaps the severely mentally challenged and the smallest of infants, could claim innocence or ignorance as excuse for sin. 
 
Early on, I heard - or did I intuit from sermons and conversational pronouncements - that some were more deserving of redemption than others.  I am quite sure that the Sheridan Road Baptist Church did not include people of color, Native Americans, the homeless, those addicted to alcohol or other drugs, and or those who admitted to enjoying sexual relationships with either the same or opposite sex. 
 
I also do not recall any mention of the fact that justice could be bought with money, the right lawyer, or the color of one’s skin.
Neither do I recall hearing about the unequal distribution of wealth or the fact that Jesus seemed to be this homeless person who quit his carpenter job and merely hung out teaching and distributing tokens of love to everyone regardless of their behavior.
 
In many ways it seemed we were ignorant of the contradictory nature of the teachings of this church. We were led to believe that innocence protected us from eternal damnation.
 
Today, few people in the United States or in many other parts of the world can claim innocence.   Unless a particular country is effective in blocking or limiting cell phone service and access to the internet, one is bombarded with the news of sexual behavior, war, greed, and the theater of the illusion of justice.    
 
Michelle Alexander, an African American civil rights attorney who attended Vanderbilt University and who is the author of the well-read book, The New Jim Crow, points out the fact that behavior which was quite acceptable at a fraternity party landed many others in prison and permanently branded them as the undeserving of jobs, housing and other apparent “luxuries.” She was not taught in college or law school that justice is not blind or equal.   After law school she found out that one in four women in the United States will have a family member in prison and one in two black women will have a family member in jail.   As has been pointed out by many, as the crime rate in the United States has gone down the incarceration rate has gone up.  Unless someone is acutely developmentally or mentally challenged, the claim of innocence of the disparity in so-called justice in these United States could not be validated in any freshman level or even high school level introduction to scientific research.
 
We humans seem to have an endless capacity for preventing one part of our mind from knowing what another part of our mind knows.
 
Perhaps on whatever day we celebrate the Sabbath the sin of which we are the  guiltiest is that of feigning innocence.  None of us are innocent of the lies we tell ourselves and, yet, it is a peculiar trait of we humans to assign blame to individuals rather than to a system which has been designed to feed and justify the lie that we are better than, more than, or more deserving than.
 
It is wonderful that there are an increasing number of individuals and organizations which are giving voice to the lie of innocence.  Yet many of us are not only witnessing but applauding the theatrics of the presidential candidates in the United States who throw stones at each other while claiming innocence.  Even the campaign staff of Mr. Trump have claimed that his behavior to date was just theater and that we will soon see a Presidential candidate.  Yet, here is a man who can promise one thing in a business contract and do something else and then claim bankruptcy, hurl insults at just about everyone, advocate violence, and blame the Muslims, the press, and some other countries while threating to build a wall and making the Mexican government pay for it.  So great is our need to claim innocence or victim status that we could end up electing such a person as President.
 
Lest we be tempted to throw stones, we must also come to terms with the fact that many, if not all, of us also claim innocence.
 
The question which I must ask myself is what happens if none of us are innocent and all of us are part of an interlocking system who benefit from this theater of the absurd.   Yes, they were right, we all are sinners and not even the “blood of Jesus” is going to wipe away that fact.  The good news is that if all of us are sinners and a part of the problem then the use of the term has no meaning and we can safely quit with the name calling, the stone throwing, and the finger pointing.
 
One of the truths is that the police we hire, the police we train, and the police that shoot the unarmed teenager are doing what we have told them to do.  Yes, if we are going to label X as the criminal then we have to  punish them.  If we are going to label the police office as the criminal, then we have to lock up that police officer.  On the other hand, if the problem is not the police officer nor X then we have to assume community responsibility for the issues and assign community responsibility for finding a way to live and work together.  Together we have to let go of the illusion of innocence.
 
Written  April  24, 2016

​The fiction of my childhood.
 
I just posted a blog today talking about the fiction that I don’t write fiction.   Shortly after posting the blog I received a phone call from my oldest sister, Bonnie. She and a younger sister, Pat, have for many years assumed the care of our 96-year-old mother who has, bit by bit, lost the ability to take care of herself.  Bonnie called to tell me that the doctor has said that mother has only days or a day to live.  Mother has told Bonnie that she just wants to go to sleep.   I am sure that she is tired.  
 
As soon as I hung up from the phone call I began to make arrangements for a flight to Tulsa in hopes of visiting mother before she dies and, hopefully being of some support  to my sisters. Goodness knows I am greatly indebted to them for assuming not only their share of the caretaking of our mother, but the share which belonged to myself and two other siblings who do not live in the same geographical location of our mother.
 
As I was taking care of the logistics of arranging for the flight, the car rental, and the rest of the details to which one must attend, especially if one lives alone, I began to consider the fact that my siblings and I all had a different mother.  In fact, the story of my mother changes in my own memory from day to day. Perhaps it changes from moment to moment.   So much of the fiction which is my story is determined by my expectations which changed as I grew up.  The expectations might have been as simple and from an adult perspective to as mundane as wanting a meal which did not include that dreaded and hated hominy (to this day I have not been hungry enough to consider eating this distinctive and inexpensive vegetable).  The expectation might have been to avoid being physically punished for some misdeed or perceived misdeed.  Another expectation, or what is a hope,  was that we would become as wealthy as our neighbors who not only had the magic of indoor electricity and indoor plumbing but a fuzzy-picture black and white television. 
 
In my memory, poverty and the resultant shame of mother about that “fact,” the possibility, of my behaving in a way which brought further shame or embarrassment are intermixed with my fascination of the world which books brought into my daily life, an occasional evening when my father played the accordion, a used guitar which Santa somehow managed to find and deliver to our house despite the lack of a proper chimney (the only chimney we had was the six-inch stove pipe opening to carry the smoke from the wood stove that cooked our food, heated our house in summer and winter, and heated the flat irons which would make our patched clothes more presentable).
 
Mother was, of course, in my memory always old, although I have photographs of this young, very attractive, diminutive woman who is, it seems, frequently holding one of the five babies to which she gave birth.  Mother was a mere 38 when I left for boot camp in the U. S. Navy.   By that time we had moved to the city to a house which had electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, and a black and white television. 
 
My memory creates the fiction which was my mother while the memory of my siblings creates the fiction which was their mother.
There are many stories which I may one day tell.  My siblings may insist that their story is “the story.”  We could argue over the relative merits of our stories.
 
My son has his own version of me just as everyone I know has their story which they might swear is a true representation of me. Even the artist who has used me as a subject for her paintings captured a particular me which only she could experience.
 
As I spend time with my siblings and whoever else is there to bid farewell to this larger than life, diminutive woman, we will  share our story. The danger is, of course, that we will  think our story is the story of  Daisy Ethel Drake Pickett.
 
Perhaps there will come a time when I can share the fiction of my mother without offending anyone or seeming to challenge the fiction of the mother, wife, friends, daughter, sister, cousin, working woman (she returned to school after our father died), and revered community member.
 
Obviously none of these stories is the complete story or the accurate story of this woman. Yet, each  carries some kernel of the truth of this woman who told her own story about herself.
 
Her story painted the picture of this fiercely independent, self-made, brave woman who endured many hardships and, yet, was able to keep reinventing herself as life handled her one challenge after another.
 
Written April 23, 2016
 

​“Let them eat cake.”  When a cake is not just a cake.
 
Most readers will be familiar with the quote, “Let them eat cake.”  which Wikipedia reminds us “is the traditional translation of the Frenchphrase "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche," supposedly spoken by "a great princess" upon learning that the peasants had no bread. Since brioche was a luxury bread enriched with butter and eggs, the quote would reflect the princess's disregard for the peasants, or at least a complete lack of understanding that the absence of basic food staples was due to poverty rather than a lack of supply.  While it is commonly attributed to Queen Marie Antoinette,[1] there is no record of this phrase ever having been said by her.”
 
I was reminded of his phrase while reading about the fact that a Muslim woman won a baking contest in the United Kingdom and was awarded the opportunity to create the birthday cake for Queen Elizabeth.   By all accounts the woman, Nadiya Hussain, was delighted to be chosen for this honor.  
 
In many respects, the background of the Queen and Mrs.  Hussain could not be more different.  Queen Elizabeth is the royal head of an Empire whose history includes all the behavior which empire building necessitated.  She is a member of and the Supreme Governor of the Church of England.  Mrs. Hussain is a Muslim and not head of anything in her religious community.  The Queen lives in a palace, rides in a gold coach and has been bathed in luxury as well as ceremonial responsibility since ascending to the throne in 1958. Mrs. Hussain lives in a modest house although she is in process of moving to another modest house.
 
According to Wikipedia and other sources, Mrs. Hussain “is a first-generation Bangladeshi born and raised in Luton where she attended Challney High School and Luton Sixth from College.  She was one of six children, with three sisters and two brothers.”  
 
The Bengal history includes:
 
“The British East India Company gained official control of Bengal following the Battle of Plassey in 1757. This was the first conquest, in a series of engagements that ultimately lead to the expulsion of other European competitors. The defeat of the Mughals and the consolidation of the subcontinent under the rule of a corporation was a unique event in imperialistic history. Kolkata (Anglicized as "Calcutta") on the Hooghly became a major trading port for bamboo, tea, sugar cane, spices, cotton, muslin and jute produced in Dhaka, Rajshahi, Khulna, and Kushtia.
Scandals and the bloody rebellion known as the Sepoy Mutiny prompted the British government to intervene in the affairs of the East India Company. In 1858, authority in India was transferred from the Company to the crown, and the rebellion was brutally suppressed. Rule of India was organized under a Viceroy and continued a pattern of economic exploitation. Famine racked the subcontinent many times, including at least two major famines in Bengal. The British Raj was politically organized into seventeen provinces of which Bengal was one of the most significant.”
 
If we just look at the above, it would seem that the historical distance between Mrs. Hussain and Queen Elizabeth is enormous.  Yet, these two women have much in common. Both of them
 
      Are female.
              Are educated, strong, intelligent, powerful, professional women. 
       Had marriages which were largely arranged and both become love stories in their own right. (Actually although of royal lineage, Phillip was the not favored choice of many.)
      In many respects, refused to obey the limits of the prescribed roles although both choose their battles.   Queen Elizabeth’s public costume is very traditional although distinctly her. Mrs. Hussain wears the traditional hijab.
 
At a time when many extremists who happen to represent the Western world seems to have a difficult time separating extremists who happen to be Muslim and many extremists who happen to be Muslim have a difficult time separating the Empire building, arrogant, violent history of some of the Western world, the coming together of these two women remind us, once again, that our similarities as people is much greater than our differences.
 
The Queen is reported to have asked “Does it cut?” or “How do I cut it?” depending on which news story one reads.    At that moment it was two women figuring out a logistical problem while delighting in something as simple as a birthday and the birthday gift of a cake. No matter how complicated this engineering project requiring 42 eggs was, it was, after all, both “the cake” and just a cake.  Women and men have been sharing such moments since we began living together and taking care of each other.  Long before we decided that it not enough just to be human and devised ways of proving that we are more than, better than, or more deserving then, we were people taking care of each other and coming together to celebrate each other and/or an achievement or blessing.
 
From “let them eat cake” which could, at times, symbolize how he humans treat those we decide are the least deserving – the least among us – to “Here is the cake to celebrate your birthday. I make this gift. I accept this gift – person to person” is perhaps not the complicated and impossible task we have imagined it to be.  
 
A cake is, after all, sometimes not just a cake. It is a bridge of love. It is a bridge of mutual respect and acceptance.  Perhaps?
 
Written April 22, 2016

​“I don’t write fiction.”   Another lie!
 
The leaders or conveners of the monthly meeting of the writers circle at the end of the meeting always challenge the participants with an assignment for the next meeting.   The assignment is usually a topic. For example, this month the assignment was to write something (600 words or less) on “falling.” Various individuals wrote wonderful pieces of prose or poetry. Some were stories of events in the writers own life journey. Others were metaphorical and still others were deliberate fantasies or fiction.    For next month our assignment is to take a key from a pile of old keys one of the leaders had brought and write a 600 word or less fictional piece.   My immediate thought was, “I do not write fiction.”  As I thought more about this statement I was aware that it is not true. Of course I write fiction. 
 
What is fiction?  Oxford Dictionary states:
 
      Literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.
      Invention or fabrication as opposed to fact.
      A belief or statement that is false, but that is often held to be true because it is expedient to do so.
 
I began to think about the fact that when I talk about an event in my own life or about an event in the life of someone else I witnessed or was told it is never more than a piece of truth which has been filtered through my accumulation of biases, prejudices, expectations and fears. There may be some kernel of truth, but it is wrapped in the fabric of what is now my story.  I am well aware that if the story begins as something which happened in my life it has now been kneaded, shaped and left to rise over time in the warmth of my imagination or, perhaps,  out of the bin of regrets to an invented reality.  Often I cannot identify the original kernel. 
 
What is the difference between my stories as I now “remember” them and those which I might deliberately imagine or invent.  What is fact?  What is fiction?  I know that some of what I think is a fact can be “fact checked” much as the political fact checkers are constantly checking the “facts” of what  political candidates say.  
 
I have framed degrees from various academic institutions. They each attest to the fact that  from x date to y date I completed a required course of study to the satisfaction of the particular institution of so-called higher learning.  That is the extent of fact.  What happened between x and y other than I enrolled in and completed the requirements for certain courses to someone’s satisfaction is not recorded anywhere.  What I think I remember may bear very little resemblance to what someone else may have witnessed or heard.
 
Even if I deliberately set out to compose a fictional story, I may have consciously or unconsciously incorporated an event from those stored in my memory bank.  
 
Another form of fiction is described by author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in her Ted Talk “The danger of a single story.”    In this Ted Talk she discusses the danger of only telling “a single story about another person, event or country.”    She reminds the listener or reader that a single story only tells a small piece of the truth and perhaps not even that.
 
All this went through my mind as I thought about the lie I had been telling myself about what I write.  I had said, “I do not write fiction.”   This is not the truth.  It may or may not be a partial truth.  Even when I have my fictional niece and nephew exploring some subject or concept, I invent not only Sam and Paul but the circumstances which will fence in the exploration.  Even the concept which I have these fictional characters exploring are my version or definition.   The characters, Sam or Paul, are loosely based on some very precocious young people that I know.  Yet, as Ms. Adichie reminds us, no one story or even ten stories about these characters will give one a complete understanding or picture of who they are.  They are always more than that.   As is true of all of creation not only can I not give a complete picture of who they are  at point A in time, they are never the same from one moment to the next.   Everything and everyone is constantly evolving. This is true whether they began as an invented character or a historic one.
 
This morning I was reading a letter from Frederick Douglas to Harriet Tubman written on August 29, 1868.   The truths he relays to Ms. Tubman about his impression of her which  says something of him, gives us a tiny window into the lives and souls of these two human beings.  He says, “I know of no one who has willingly encountered more perils and hardships to serve our enslaved people than you have.” (Quoted in article in the Wall Street Journal, opinion section, A11, April 21, 2016 from Sarah Hopkins Bradford’s “Scenes in the  Life of Harriet Tubman.” a letter dated August 29, 1868.)
 
The long and the short of it is that I must now replace the lie, “I do not do fiction” with a new truth. This truth presents new challenges and opens new windows.   I will want to be more careful in presenting my offerings as either “the truth” or even “a truth.”   Perhaps my imagination can now be allowed new wings. Ahh!  What color of wings would I like?  How big should they be? Where will they take me?

Written April 21, 2016

 

​Death and not death
 
Many of us did not have to wait for elder status to face the reality of the cycle of life and death.    Our history has included World War II, the Korean War, the Cold War, the Vietnam war, AIDS, such events as 9/11, so-called natural events such as Katrina, Desert Storm, the ongoing Iraq and the Afghan wars, Ebola, the abduction of many by drugs, and the “normal” deaths due to illness (all ages of people), diseases of old age, accidents, cancer and many other forces.  Of course, for those of us growing up close to the earth in the country, we were early on exposed to the fact that life included death and death created life. 
 
In the past couple of weeks a long-time colleague for whom I had great affection, the favorite aunt of a good friend (a woman who always made me smile) who was also a client who I admired and loved. as well as the sister of another client who is also a colleague, ended this life journey.  Also, the wonderful canine companion of friends who are also clients was regretfully and sadly assisted in letting go of this life journey.
 
Yet, there is a part of me, and I suspect, many others, which cannot seem to grasp the fact that a being can have life and then not have life.  I suppose that is not exactly what I wanted to say. I do accept that, at another level, all creation is energy and that energy is neither created nor destroyed. 
Obviously,  attempting to both understand and accept this process demands that one explore the larger question of the essence of life.  One could, of course, say that it is energy, but then one is forced to ask about the nature or the essence of energy.  The Oxford dictionary tells us that energy is a property of matter which is radiation which is “manifest as a capacity to perform work (such as causing motion or the interaction of molecules.”)  If one googles physics.info  one learns or is reminded that:
 
“Energy is:
      a scalar quantity
      abstract and cannot always be perceived
      given meaning through calculation
      a central concept in science.
 Energy can exist in many different forms  All forms of energy are either kinetic or potential. The energy associated with motion is called kinetic energy. The energy associated with position is called potential energy.  Potential energy is not “stored energy”. Energy can be stored in motion just as well as it can be stored in position.”  (physics.info)
 
Most of us will hear ourselves and/or others talking about feeling or sensing the energy of another even that they have died.    We may say that we can “feel” the presence of a deceased person or animal long after they are gone. For some this is explained as life after death or the existence of angels or spirits. For others, a more scientific explanation, can be found in the language of physics.
 
We also know that at another very real level some of the cells in our body are replaced in as few as six hours and some once a year.  Some estimate that all cells in the human body are replaced once every seven or ten years. In other words, at the cellular level, we are constantly dying and being reborn.  When I think about this, the concept of death becomes even more confusing except that we also know certain diseases kill cells or parts of the body.
 
My dear friend who called me about the death of her sister told me that the spirit and the voice of her sister was very clear and present just before she died.   In a very real sense this was the essence of this powerful woman. The older she got the more confidence she had in owning and sharing this spirit.   Her sisters and the rest of the family continue to have a strong experience of this spirit. In this sense, as long as we remember this woman she lives.  We can, of course, allow the details of this life journey to take over and fail to honor that presence.  This is another form of death.
 
Yet, even as we open to the living energy of this person, there is another level at which we long for the physical presence of their arms or the soothing tones of their voices.   We may “hear” their voices or even keep their voices on an electronic recording of some sort.  We may feel their arms and, yet, there is something which is not the same.  They will not drive us to point B, go shopping for or with us, cook a meal, create an piece of art which we can display.  They are dead.   The young grandchild of my friend Ed was visiting the grave of her grandmother and his wife with Ed.  Ed told her to not walk on top of grandma’s grave.  She looked at him and, with hands on hips and an exasperated look, said, “Grandpa!  Grandma is dead. She does not care.”  This very young child seemed to have no problem hanging out with grandma while accepting that she was “dead.”
 
Children often are able to hold on to what we adults now consider opposing or conflicting realities.   At some point we intelligent, mature, educated adults have morphed into these logical beings which can only allow ourselves to think and live in the duality of life or death. It has been said by many wise people that the human mind – that ability to be “logical” and “think” is both our greatest gift and our more powerful enemy which prevents us from experiencing the essence of our humanity.    Perhaps we need to, once again, honor that  pre-adult us which lives in the reality of both.  Otherwise we will die to be born or to experience the ongoing life of those we love.
 
 
Written April 20, 2016
 

​What shall we see
 
Most of us were introduced to the concept of perception at some point in our education.  We learned that we often see what we are used to seeing and, thus, what we expect to see. If we expect to see negatives or the same thing we saw yesterday that is probably what we will see. Obviously we see with our brains – memories, values, expectations – and not with our eyes.   I was thinking of this early this morning while listening to a Ted Talk by Ivan Baan who  documents the work of architects.   He has also, for the past several years, been documenting “what happens when architects and planners leave and these places become appropriated by people, like here in Chandigarh, India, the city which has been completely designed by the architect Le Corbusier. Now 60 years later, the city has been taken over by people in very different ways from whatever perhaps intended for, like here, where you have the people sitting in the windows of the assembly hall. But over the course of several years, I've been documenting Rem Koolhaas's CCTV building in Beijing and the Olympic stadium in the same city by the architects Herzog and de Meuron. At these large-scale construction sites in China, you see a sort of makeshift camp where workers live during the entire building process. As the length of the construction takes years, workers end up forming a rather rough-and-ready informal city, making for quite a juxtaposition against the sophisticated structures that they're building.”
 
He also reports:  “Just over three years ago, I was for the first time in Caracas, Venezuela, and while flying over the city, I was just amazed by the extent to which the slums reach into every corner of the city, a place where nearly 70 percent of the population lives in slums, draped literally all over the mountains. During a conversation with local architects, Urban-Think Tank, I learned about the Torre David, a 45-story office building which sits right in the center of Caracas. The building was under construction until the collapse of the Venezuelan economy and the death of the developer in the early '90s. About eight years ago, people started moving into the abandoned tower and began to build their homes right in between every column of this unfinished tower. There's only one little entrance to the entire building, and the 3,000 residents come in and out through that single door. Together, the inhabitants created public spaces and designed them to feel more like a home and less like an unfinished tower. In the lobby, they painted the walls and planted trees. They also made a basketball court. But when you look up closely, you see massive holes where elevators and services would have run through.”
 
Obviously, some will look at the building and see makeshift living arrangement, squatters, or “those people.”  Others look at these buildings and see a place for homes,  churches or other common places to gather.   Whether in Cairo,  Nigeria, or some other place, one can notice very ingenious people finding a way to create communities which many will see as slums inhabited by “those people.”   Mr. Baan sees the ingeniousness of we humans to find ways to create beauty, to take care of our families, and each other using  whatever resources are available  - possibly junk to others – to create all that we need to survive.
 
I recall visiting Estonia shortly before the fall of the Soviet Union.  I saw sculptures created of munition parts. I also saw fresh flower stalls everywhere.  The song fests also continued to thrive despite the poverty which did not allow for things we take for granted such as paint for building, food for the stores, or the means to keep the bodies of water clean.  Often, where others saw decay and despair, many saw art, heard music and opportunities to create pockets of beauty.
 
I decided that I would invite my adopted niece and nephew, Sam, the six-year-old and Paul, the 12-year-old to accompany me on an excursion of perception.   I called their parents and asked if they would be okay with me taking the kids to a section of the city where many are living on the streets and in the parks.   Unlike many parents who might respond with fear for the safety of their children, these parents applauded the idea.    Later I called to talk to Sam and Paul who were always excited to go on an excursion with Uncle Jim. We decided that we would go after school.  We agreed that I would pick them up from school at 3:30.
 
At 3:30 I was at the school when I saw scores of children coming out of the school building.   Soon I spotted Sam and Paul heading straight for my car.
 
Me:  Hi!  How was school?
 
Sam:  I had a good day Uncle Jim but I could not wait until you picked us up.
 
Paul: It was okay Uncle Jim.  Could you explain again what we are looking for?
 
Me:  Well, we talked about the fact that we often see what we expect to see or what others have told us we will see. Today we are going to look for examples of beauty and strength in places where we can expect to see individuals and families who are often labeled as homeless and  are frequently considered an eyesore.   I thought we would start by visiting some folks who are waiting to eat at The Soup Kitchen.  We can also have dinner there.  
 
I have a notebook and a pen for each of you to write down examples of beauty and strength.  I will do the same thing.  Do either of you  have homework to do?
 
Sam:  I told my teacher what we were doing and she said that my homework is to report to the class about our experience.
 
Paul:  I have some math homework Uncle Jim and I have to tell the social studies class about our experience.
 
Me: Great.  Seatbelts fastened?
 
Paul and Sam:  (Exasperated that I could ask such a dumb question.)
 
Me:  Thanks.
 
I drive to  the area of the soup kitchen. It is not long before we come to a park where I know that there are homeless “camps” unless the city has recently decided to make them leave. They do that every so often when “the good citizens” complain.
 
Me:  Let stop here and take a walk through the park.
 
Sam:  Okay Uncle Jim.
 
Paul: Do we take our notebooks Uncle Jim?
 
Me:  Yes, let’s do.
 
We all get out of the car.  I put money in the meter and lock the car. We start our walk through the park.  It is not long before we come to a place where a couple of people are napping next to shopping cars filled with stuff.   We do not bother the people.  Sam and Paul look sad.   We walk on to a bench where I suggest we stop and write in our notebooks.
 
Sam:  That was sad Uncle Jim.  I did not see anything pretty or strong.
 
Paul: How can people live that way Uncle Jim?
 
Me:  How strong do you think you have to be to live outside Sam and Paul?
 
Paul:   I never thought of that. I would be really scared and want to give up. I guess it takes a really strong person to live that way.
 
Sam:  Were the two people together because they take care  of each other Uncle Jim?
 
Me:  Very possibly.  In my experience homeless people often help each other.  I was listening to a Ted talk by a person named Ivan Baan who had taken photographs of  people around the world taking care of each other.  In one South American city a lot of people took over a 45-story partly completed, abandoned building and have created a community.
 
Did either of you notice anything else positive?
 
Sam:  I saw a bird’s nest  where a mother or dad was sitting on some eggs.  That was neat.
 
Paul:  There was a dogwood tree next to the folks sleeping on the ground.  It was sort of providing an umbrella of shade  and you could smell the flowers Uncle Jim.
 
Me:  That is great. So, at first we just saw sadness of two people sitting on the ground. Now we see the strength of living outside, the beauty of two people taking care of each other, the tree providing shade while sharing it’s beauty and the scent of its blossoms.   Wow!  Your perceptions changed a lot didn’t they?
 
Paul:  That is interesting Uncle Jim.  I like this experiment.
 
Sam:  Me too.
 
Me:  Let’s walk a little further and then we will head to the soup kitchen.
 
Sam;  There, Uncle Jim.   Some more shopping carts, but I do not see any people.   They are filled.  They are like little moving vans aren’t they?
 
Paul:  Don’t the carts belong to some store  Uncle Jim?
 
Me: Yes, I think all the carts were purchased by some store but no matter where you go – even in small communities – you often see shopping carts being used as mini trailers to hold or move possessions.  You see that some of them have garbage bags which are waterproof containers to hold clothes and other valuables.
 
Paul:  That is very creative isn’t it Uncle Jim?
 
Me:  Yes.  I think the term is repurposing which basically means finding another use for something that was originally designed for some a particular purpose.
 
Sam:  How do you spell that?
 
Paul:   R  e p u r p o s i n g.
 
Sam: Thanks.
 
Me:  Shall we head to the soup kitchen?   Who do you think we will find there Sam and Paul?
 
Sam:  Really sad people who are hungry?
 
Me: Yes, people are coming there to eat.
 
Paul:  People who have no jobs?
 
Me:  Well, not always Paul.  Often there are people who work full time but cannot afford to rent or own a place to live. Sometimes if people pay rent they do not enough money for food.
 
Paul:  John said that his Uncle is a police person in San Francisco and has to live in his car because places to live are so expensive.
 
Sam:  People who did not finish school?
 
Me:  Well, let’s see. I am not sure that is always accurate.
 
We reach the car and get in.
 
Me: Seat belts buckled?
 
Sam and Paul in unison:   Yessss   Uncle Jim!
 
Soon we reach the soup kitchen. There is a parking space close by. We get out, lock the car and again put money in a meter. We then walk over to where folks are waiting in line.   Some people recognize me.  
 
“Hey Jim.”   What you doing?
 
Me:  Hi Carl.  Hi Missy.  How are you all doing?
 
Carl: Fine.  Who are these young people?
 
Me:  These are Sam and Paul, my adopted niece and nephew.  We are learning about perception  - about seeing with our brain and not our eyes.  We just came from the park where we saw some folks with their shopping carts napping.  We are here so that they can find out a little more about your experience and how it compares with what we expect to see or find out.   Carl,  would you take Sam and Missy would you take Paul to dinner and help them meet and find out about folks?
 
Carl:  Great. Sam, will you come with me?
 
Sam:  Thanks Mr. Carl.
 
Missy:  Paul, will  you come with me.
 
Paul: Okay.  Thank you.
 
They  go off with Missy and Carl.  I  go over to spend some time with Fred who I know was a college professor until his alcoholism took over his life.
 
After dinner I meet up with Missy, Paul, Carl and Sam.
 
Me: Thanks Missy and Carl.   How was it?
 
Missy:  We made them honorary members of our families. Thanks for bringing them Jim. They are great kids.
 
Me.  Yes, they are.  I really appreciate you spending time with them.
 
Sam gives Carl a hug. 
 
Sam:  Thanks.  I had a good time.
 
Paul gives Missy a hug.
 
Paul: Can I come back and visit with you Missy?
 
Missy:  I would like that Paul.
 
We walk to the car. The kids are quiet.
 
Me: Well, obviously you two make  new friends. What words do you want to write down in your notebooks?
 
Paul:  I want to write down educated, loving, kind, giving.
 
Sam:  I want to write down pretty, funny,  strong, friendly.
 
Me: I am very impressed.  Seems as if you saw much more than you expected to see. You obviously listened and paid attention.  I am really proud of you both.
 
Me:  Do you need help with your math homework?
 
Paul: No thanks Uncle Jim. Mom will help.  I will call if we need help.
 
Me: Thank you both for going with me.  I had a good time
 
Sam:  I did too Uncle Jim.
 
Paul: Thanks Uncle Jim
 
Written April 19, 2016