Are we ready?

I had dinner, drinks, smiles and belly laughs with two very wonderful friends on Friday evening. It was a delight to have conversations about things and people that are interesting, fascinating, compelling, and sometimes maddening. It was a joy to laugh, talk, wonder and commiserate about things and people I really do care about. It was sublime to sit with people who are compassionate and passionate about the world and the work that they are doing in it. It was sheer bliss to be in the presence of two women educators and writers who give a damn about something other than their navels.

In the midst of our verbal meandering the question of whether the country (the people, not the rulers) is ready for Obama as president. Are we more ready for Obama than we are for Hilary? Or put more simply, are we more ready for a Black man than we are for a white woman as president? I emphatically said that we aren't ready for a Black man as president. In that moment I couldn't find the words to explain why, but I just know that we aren't.

The first thing that came to mind is the fact that driving while black or brown continues to be an issue for so many people. It's also an integral part of the rite of passage for certain young men in this country. Police, highway patrol, sheriffs, and other (usually) white men believe it is their God-given right and a matter of routine to pull over cars driven by or ridden in by black and brown men. This is only one symptom of what's beneath the surface of America's collective conscious. The knee-jerk responses of the unconscious reveal a lot of unfinished business in a personal and collective sense. What is routine can sometimes be motivated by emotions that we're not aware of. I'm talking fear. Why might any person in the United States be afraid of or angry with a black man in a position of power? Talk amongst yourselves about the possible answers to that question.

Then I started talking about the fact that so much of what's lurking beneath the surface of all of our conscious minds about race is never discussed. The same is true for gender, but since I've been blessed to have both issues intimately intertwined with my day to day life and the legacies I've inherited, it's not possible for me deal with them separately. However, that's a topic for another post. Or for an essay, article or book.

There's never been any healing done around all of the history. There's a legacy of discomfort with the mere idea of black men holding positions of power. And have you noticed how many high profile people of color are forced to take the fall for their corrupt and inept bosses? One doesn't have to even jog one's memory to think of two or three names.

J told me that I should write about this. I'm just getting started.

Adventures in Health Care

Maybe it wasn't exactly what some would call an adventure, but I had my first colonoscopy today and received a clean bill of health. Or should I say, a thoroughly clean colon?

The prep nurses asked me lots of questions during intake, like: "What was the name of the solution you drank, yesterday?" "Who's coming to drive you home?" "Why are you having this done?" I gave the 'my mother taught me how to act in public' answers: "Ummm....Halflytley" "John Doe, my neighbor." "I was having trouble______and my primary care physician referred me to Dr._________and he said that it would be a good idea to do this, to rule out any problems."

What I really wanted to say was: "Lady, you know the name of that yucky liquid and the little pink pills that I had to take yesterday. You also know that I had to spend most of yesterday afternoon and last night in the bathroom!" "Someone will be here but you don't know him." "You've got Dr. ___'s notes, so you know the answer to this question."

Mostly, I was scared. I knew that they were going to give me anaesthesia and that something would be snaked through my butt and into my intestines, stomach and esophagus. I knew that it was an opportunity for Dr. ___ to see what was going on in there; for him to be a voyeur looking into my colon. I understood this with my mind, but I was still uneasy about the procedure and afraid at the possible results. My college roommate died of colon cancer a few years ago and so did Katie Couric's husband. I'm getting older and that's when more things start to go wrong with the body. I've never been a hospital inpatient, although I have spent time in several ER's both as a patient and an employee. Bellevue, Alta Bates, Highland and I may be forgetting a few others.

For some reason, people who have been running from the highway patrol, overdoing it with recreational drugs while driving, and/or been over zealously accelerating when they're supposed to be stopping for red lights have run into my cars. Several years ago, one car was totalled and the driver's side door had to be sawed off in order to get me out of the vehicle. That was the time when a young man who was running from the highway patrol and driving with a revoked license decided to drive off an on- ramp to I-580. I'd just driven onto the on-ramp and was slowly making my way down the curve toward the freeway. He was barreling up the curve. At first I saw lights in the distance and thought that someone was changing a tire by the side of the road. Suddenly, the headlights were dead in front of me. The emergency worker told me that it was a good thing that my reflexes were so good. That's what saved my life and avoided a head-on collision.

I once worked as a registration clerk at a local hospital. Although I don't own a black cape and don't look particularly scary, I was hired to walk up to people as they lay in bed waiting to be seen; to ask them about their insurance coverage and somehow overlook their blood and pain. I hated being the hench-woman, but liked interacting with the people. Amazingly enough, no one cursed at me, threw up on me or cut their eyes at me as I stood by their bedside. They were more reasonable than I'd have been. I worked evenings and weekends as an 'On-call ER Reg Clerk'. One night, a young woman walked in with her arm wrapped in a towel and calmly told me that she'd put her fist through a plate glass window when she'd found out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her. Her girlfriend stood next to her, shaking her head in assent. Their calm demeanor was amazing to me, given what had happened prior that had resulted in her badly cut and bleeding arm.

I've been blessed with good health for most of my life. I've inherited healthy genes and I've had the presence of mind to take good care of my body, mind and spirit - all of me. It has paid off in ways too numerous to count. It does, however make me a little bit of a wimp when faced with aging and the changes that my body has been going through. Add to that yet another auto accident last fall. Rear-ended at a stop light. Slow down Joyce, even when you're sitting still.

Circling back to my outpatient procedure of today, I've come out on the other side with a clean bill of colon health. Whatever was not working well GI-wise during the first few months of the year has healed itself. Now on to my kidneys. Yes, that means more tests, more prayers and an opportunity for me to adjust my attitude from that of a privileged healthy person who now has health insurance through her employer; to one who is also humbled and grateful for excellent health care providers from both Eastern and the Western healing traditions.

Mother's Day - Part II

The foundation that Mother's Day has been built on just keeps rising to the surface:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtzAwo1HU2w

Peace

Human and Divine

So, I'm browsing through my poetry files, looking for poems I'm going to submit and those I'm going to revise. I've got a lot of writing files and although they're labeled clearly, I'm beginning to get overwhelmed by different versions of poems, trying to remember what's been published and where, and some of the people and things I'd forgotten about. In one of the files, I scroll past the following quote and it calls me to return to it:

“No revolution in outer things is possible without prior revolution in one’s inner way of being. Whatever change you aspire to in your affairs must be preceded by a change in heart, an active deepening and strengthening of your resolve to meet every event with equanimity, detachment, and innocent goodwill. When this spiritual poise is achieved within, magnificent things are possible without.”

Hexagram 49 – KO—The I Ching or Book of Changes: A guide to Life’s Turning Points by Brian Browne Walker

This is what life is like. As I live from one day to the next, I shake my head, am outraged, get to the point of being through with certain situations, and alternately am able to smile and find peace within. The poems often lead me to peace. By writing and reading my poems and reading and listening to the words of others, I'm reminded that we are human and we are divine; a precious duality.

Mother's Day

I am an extended family member. I am the godmother of a fine young man. I am the mother of hundreds of poems. It is mother's day. I just read a post by Britt Bravo on BlogHer, that shares the historical significance of mother's day being established as a protest against the Civil War. It's not surprising that mothers were and still are standing up for peace. I don't know anyone who would willingly sacrifice his or her son or daughter to war. Perhaps I am naive. The 1870 proclamation by Julia Ward Howe can be found on the Code Pink Website:

http://www.codepink4peace.org/article.php?id=217

Back to my poems, many of which have come of age. It's time for them to leave the nest.

Peace

Poetry

I'm keeping my promise to myself to include some of the poems that I'm working on.
Here's the beginning of something:

Untitled

Act like you don’t see me,
know me, want me,
want to be me,
want to be all over me.

Act like you’re too cute to speak.
Act busy.
Act cocky, like you’re the cat’s meow,
or maybe the pajamas I didn’t know cats wore.

Act like you don’t know who I am.
Act like you don’t know my name.
Act like you don’t know your own name.

Turn your head every which way,
except in my direction.

One would think......

That I'd keep up with this blogging......but life goes on and I must follow it. Health, family, and spiritual concerns are holding my attention. I seem to need a lot of attention and care these days, and there's nothing to do but surrender to it. This is creating an interesting landscape in which to travel. I work to keep myself posted as things continue to unfold. I'm pressed to give up absolutes and either/or when forming opinions about seemingly everything. It's an interesting landscape in which to travel.

My Second Ship Sets Sail

This afternoon, I was told by a co-worker that my laugh reminds her of champagne. In that moment, I wished I'd had some champagne (and I told her so). Celebrations are few and far between these days, and I'm wondering when I'll be able to look around me and feel like celebrating. Perhaps that's the obstacle. Thinking I must look outside of myself for a reason to celebrate, when I have much to celebrate right here. My breath, for example. The fact that I can breathe without assistance. How fortunate that this is so at this (or any) time in my life. I'll start with that.