i hate cursing now, but i can't help the string of expletives that show up in my head... it is when i think of how unsubstantial the power of 1 truly is.
2, 3, many more... but 1, the 1 that you have control over, so minute. by being overcome by the ineffectiveness of a single person, we become complicit in whatever ills are being perpetuated by the status quo. this complicity is something for which generations to come should not forgive us. status quo comes in so many forms: a gang rape going unadressed by bystanders, the craziness that was the war in iraq...even in the latter there was a single voice against it, but still, no effectiveness to reverse the horror.
those that know that the status quo should be on the side of that which is true and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable should NOT be overwhelmed by their singular range.
these should be who harness the call and the strength to mobilize masses.
let's move from complicit to sustaining the call to empower.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
no eyes
it was a blind love.
i saw the best part of him but he was blind to that part of himself.
he had to have me; i had to have him. he had scars i could never address; i had naivette with which he could never identify. i thought i purged him yesterday, so why does the residue linger today?
do i want answers? perhaps, but how about just the freedom to ask these questions: Jesus Christ, why my incredible drive to overcome matched with situations so far out of control? why the instilled notion of anything being possible matched with the reality that this simply is not?
can a life-long learner un-learn her felt need?
can a prayer for patience result in anything except a circumstance of frustration?
i saw the best part of him but he was blind to that part of himself.
he had to have me; i had to have him. he had scars i could never address; i had naivette with which he could never identify. i thought i purged him yesterday, so why does the residue linger today?
do i want answers? perhaps, but how about just the freedom to ask these questions: Jesus Christ, why my incredible drive to overcome matched with situations so far out of control? why the instilled notion of anything being possible matched with the reality that this simply is not?
can a life-long learner un-learn her felt need?
can a prayer for patience result in anything except a circumstance of frustration?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Hindsight Cumming 2 Mind
Success, as defined by others, is no success at all.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was president of the Honor's Society. Quite the accolade. It came with the privelege of making the 8th grade graduation speech. When it was time to write the speech, I couldn't have been more excited! "Finally, a platform!" I thought. Unfortunately, my English teacher, Ms. Cogan thought differently. See, although I had excellent grades in her class, when I showed her my draft of the graduation speech, she looked down on it with disdain. I couldn't understand why. It was after all set to the rythm of Coolio's 'Gangsta's Paradise,' one of the hottest songs out at that time. The content was thorough too. Noooooo, she would rather have one of her favorite writers from her classes write the graduation speech and have me read/say/deliver it for the graduation ceremonies. HUH??? I thought it was I who was in the position to make a speech.
How was I expected to make a speech that I didn't write?
Why wasn't I allowed to write my own speech?
Finally, why didn't the speech writer deliver her own speech?? If the writer had delivered the speech, I wouldn't mind at all sitting down for the entire graduation ceremony... in fact, give me any seat in the house at that point!
In any case, I put those thoughts out of my head and went with the flow. I mused on the implications, but thought 'whatever.' The speech was about some tapestry (which, btw, I've never seen a tapestry before in my whole life... i'm more of a patchwork quilt kind of lady).
but...
I submitted to the powers that be.
I delivered the tapestry speech, written largely by Melissa and Ms. Cogan.
Then, I kept it movin, never putting the Coolio version out of my mind.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was president of the Honor's Society. Quite the accolade. It came with the privelege of making the 8th grade graduation speech. When it was time to write the speech, I couldn't have been more excited! "Finally, a platform!" I thought. Unfortunately, my English teacher, Ms. Cogan thought differently. See, although I had excellent grades in her class, when I showed her my draft of the graduation speech, she looked down on it with disdain. I couldn't understand why. It was after all set to the rythm of Coolio's 'Gangsta's Paradise,' one of the hottest songs out at that time. The content was thorough too. Noooooo, she would rather have one of her favorite writers from her classes write the graduation speech and have me read/say/deliver it for the graduation ceremonies. HUH??? I thought it was I who was in the position to make a speech.
How was I expected to make a speech that I didn't write?
Why wasn't I allowed to write my own speech?
Finally, why didn't the speech writer deliver her own speech?? If the writer had delivered the speech, I wouldn't mind at all sitting down for the entire graduation ceremony... in fact, give me any seat in the house at that point!
In any case, I put those thoughts out of my head and went with the flow. I mused on the implications, but thought 'whatever.' The speech was about some tapestry (which, btw, I've never seen a tapestry before in my whole life... i'm more of a patchwork quilt kind of lady).
but...
I submitted to the powers that be.
I delivered the tapestry speech, written largely by Melissa and Ms. Cogan.
Then, I kept it movin, never putting the Coolio version out of my mind.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
your game
pastor d explained to us that the passage in revelations about being neither hot nor cold and being spit out really refers to whatever you do. be hot, be healing. be cold, be refreshing.
be at the top of your game.
be at the top of your game.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
forget 'post-racial', remember rodney king
Never really swallowed the post-racial america kool-aid, but sipped on whether the sentiment could persist for just long enough...
And then, the New Year--
Unarmed, Handcuffed Oakland African American Man Shot and Killed by Police at Start of the 2009 New Year
Tried to wrap my head around it. Tried to think that one had nothing to do with the other. Tried to think of such gross negligence/harsh aggression/blatant violence consistently on the part of the police toward any other race of people. Even after those tries, thought the victim could actually be a reported victim, and any criminal background reports held off until the family had a chance to mourn.
Rest in peace, Mr. Oscar Grant III
And then, the New Year--
Unarmed, Handcuffed Oakland African American Man Shot and Killed by Police at Start of the 2009 New Year
Tried to wrap my head around it. Tried to think that one had nothing to do with the other. Tried to think of such gross negligence/harsh aggression/blatant violence consistently on the part of the police toward any other race of people. Even after those tries, thought the victim could actually be a reported victim, and any criminal background reports held off until the family had a chance to mourn.
Rest in peace, Mr. Oscar Grant III
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