Back to "OUR" Future

It has been more than two years since I posted to the Sister II Sister blog. I offer apologies to all of you as I use this moment to bring us back to our future. This is the year for firsts. First time both a black man and a white woman have come this far in the race for president. That in and of itself is momentous. This race has placed many on opposing sides, but it has made for interesting conversations. Recently I had a woman I've known for a few years come to me. So, are you politically involved during this presidential campaign?" I wasn't sure about the reason for the question and I did question her motive, in part because the question was loaded.

I vote. Was she asking if I vote? Yes, that's what she was asking. But then, why did I feel she was baiting me into a discussion about the Democratic presidential race, more specifically the Hillary/Obama race. Why didn't she just ask, "So, what do you think about the presidential race?" or even "Who did you support?" Yet even feeling baited, I remained calm and answered her question with a question. "Do you mean am I supporting Obama?" Her response was quick and forceful. "Oh, I had no doubt that you'd be an Obama supporter." Hmmmm. This is interesting. So, another question. "So, why would you assume I'm an Obama supporter and if you assumed that, why the question about being politically involved? What is you really want to know?"

I think that in the grand scheme of things, we should just start the conversation from the beginning. Her question wasn't about me being politically involved or even about Obama because her next statements clearly marked her intention.

"I'm a Hillary supporter and I'm so mad." She went on to explain that Obama should have stepped aside and let Hillary run first. "He could have run in 2012," she stated. Then she wondered out loud if Obama was now losing steam since winning the nomination and just where are those crowds that followed him around? But, she wasn't through. She was upset. She needed to let me know that she was upset and whatever else she wanted, I simply had to remind her, "But, Obama IS the presidential candidate now. What are you going to do about it?" I never got an answer.

I have had many friends who supported Clinton and many who supported Obama. The divide had little to do with race (the percentage factor of my friends are mixed). Equal number of black women supported Hillary (percentage-wise) as supported Obama. More of my Latino sisters, however, voted for Hillary (about 3 to 1). Younger Latinos seemed to support Obama if the political events in Houston were any indication, but then the crowds seemed to be a mix of the very young and the much older members of my Houston community supporting Obama. However, I was surprised that more of my white female friends supported Obama than Hillary (again percentage-wise) and that they were surprised that I was surprised that they did. The divide did have a lot to do with age. The very young (18 to 35) supported Obama from all races, while those whites closer to my age (45 to 55) voted for Hillary. But, again I was surprised that many of my friends over 55, all races voted for Obama. Religion seemed to have sway, too. Many of my Catholic friends voted for Hillary. My other Christian friends were mostly supporters of Obama, while my Lutheran (I'm Lutheran) friends in Texas supported Hillary. However, my Lutheran friends on the East and West Coasts supported Obama. My Muslim friends seemed to support Obama, but don't tell anyone and no, it wasn't because his name is Obama. Other religions created a schism that couldn't been defined by race or religion. Hillary spoke to the hope of women from all races, religions and ages that we might have a female president, but Obama spoke of the hope of change that transcended race, religion, age and sex--those of us wanting something new. I noticed that my Jewish friends who supported Obama were mostly in my field (media folks), but just as many voted for Hillary. Jewish friends outside my field mostly supported Hillary and I was told that it wasn't because they didn't like Obama, but that Hillary represented experience.

But all of us are looking to our future and moreover, we have an idea that the future we want has some similarities and some vast differences as well. The economy among my friends is high (gas prices notwithstanding), and while the majority of my friends were against the war in Iraq and are equally against a war with Iran, the war WILL be an issue in this presidential election. Most of my friends rate the environment high on their agenda in choosing a president and health care is definitely going to be high on the list as well, especially mine. The cost of education (since I'm in school and paying exorbitant fees) will be a focus of mine as well.

So, this is my unofficial look at the race. How do you see it? How do you think the members of your community see this election? If you could have 5 minutes with both Obama and McCain, what would you ask them? Let's start the discussion and get back to our future--a future that belongs to all us.

Finding the Answers -- Asking the Right Questions

“The opposite truth is not lies. The opposite of truth is ignorance, not knowing.”—P.K. McCary

Last night I stood on stage—again! I don’t do it enough to suit myself and I’ve done it more in the past few weeks than I have in the last two years. I’m so there when I’m telling a story, sharing a poem. I connect with my audience, my story. Connection and passion—rapture! These days I’m finding ways to connect and tell my stories. I did it earlier in the month, Wednesday night[1] in fact, on the radio program Under the Learning Tree, a wonderful morning show on WBAI in New York. I connected and I was whole.

Truth makes us whole, I’ve found. And I’m seeking truth—for myself, for my life. I can’t go back to where I was two months ago—or even two years ago when my Mother died—three years ago when my granddaughter died. First, neither would want me to, and secondly, when you start looking at the truth of your situation, you find out that it is what you don’t know that keeps you from being the person you were called to be. And in my case, understanding the truth of my existence has become critical. Why am I here? What am I called to do? How do I do it? Am I to do it alone? Who should go with me? So many questions and the answers—just out of reach.

Zora Neale Hurston said that “there are years that question and years that answer.” I like the thought of that because it is a powerful statement. The years that question come to us day by day. The answers do as well except they seem more elusive. Mostly because we aren’t asking the right questions and if we do, we’re not listening—really listening to the answers. Questions such as ‘How long will this suffering last?’ and my favorite, ‘Why me?’ are questions asked by most of us in times of turmoil and search. By the way, the answers to each are, ‘As long as you hold onto it,’ and ‘Why not you?’ But, I digress. When asking questions stemming from one’s pain, grief and/or sorrow, one must be responsible enough to ask the most important question which is: ‘What are the questions to be asked?’ After all, if we want to know the truth, we must seek guidance even in our asking.

In truth. That is the how of our questions. We must know that whatever question is being asked at the time, that we must do it in truth. Don’t be afraid to seek deeper into the reasons for the questions that we ask. Be truthful with yourself. If we can’t be honest in our search for answers, why we’re asking what we’re asking, then we won’t find the truth in the answers. If our questions come from shame or guilt, be honest. If they come from anger and frustration, be truthful about it. Because otherwise, the answers won’t be the truth of change and growth. Wisdom will escape us when we aren’t seeking truth, but easy answers don’t solve the problems (or really answer the question). Questions help us focus. The answers come when we’ve focused properly.

After my Mom died the question I asked myself was, ‘Was I a good daughter?’ I heard a simple answer. No. If I had stopped there I don’t think I could ever still the grief of losing her. I was not a good daughter. I was not a bad daughter either. See? I wasn’t asking the right question. I was her beloved daughter. I was a daughter who had the wisdom to choose her for my Mother. Yes, I believe we choose our parents. Anyway, the reason the question was asked in the first place was because I needed to alleviate the guilt I had. Had I done everything I could? Was I faithful in my care for her? Was she happy with me and what we accomplished? Did she resent me for not being perfect? Could I have done things differently? See the one question was marred by the fact that the simple question wasn’t simple and the simple answer only answered the question that hadn’t been properly formed. In fact, the answer was that I was a great daughter because she chose me, too. Loving her, her loving me, was perfect. She was a great Mom. And I know from her gift to me that night she died, that she had no regrets—either about me or her life. She brought me into this world. I watched her walk into eternity!

So, anyway, I’m on stage doing one of my favorite stories from my anthology, “Straight from the Rib.” I’m telling the story of Eve, bringer of knowledge, seeker of wisdom. We don’t ask the right questions when we discuss her. We are told that she did a bad thing! We can’t give her any sympathy because of what she wrought on mankind? Well, first, I like her. I identify with her. I read once that Eve represents our longing. I like that. It is nothing to fear. Longing for more, Longing for our path, Longing for our place. Yep. I like that. Over and over we’re asked to squelch that desire in us. We’re told that it leads to catastrophe. Hmmmm. Does it? Now, that’s a good question!

I long for a gathering of like minds—dedicated to justice and peace. I want to find the stories and I long for venues for telling these stories. I’m finding them. The Peace Hour radio show, blogs, short stories and the many other things I’m producing and will produce are out there. The stories come from the longings whispered in the night in dreams, in conversations with my sisters and brothers, in the heart of my deepest despair and my greatest joy. I ask for truth out of the place the questions come.

The questions I’m asking can be explored here and there, through the stories and connections, across this country. So, what are the questions? It doesn’t matter if the goal is truth. Questions come day by day. The answers? Also, day by day. As I search, I share, and as I gather, I share. The questions? Many, so many. I’m challenging myself to be ready for both—the questions and the answers.

So, what questions should we be asking? Simple. How can I be open to the question of truth? And that just means, how can I prepare for life and its answers? I'm working on it! I do have one piece of advice, however. Listen for truth in both questions and answers. Truth is powerful medicine.

---

[1] WBAI (99.5 FM) Radio Station, Under the Learning Tree, March 2, 2006 at 2 a.m. Check archives to hear the show.

Mourning A Great Lady ...

While celebrating a life well-lived.

Coretta Scott King

April 27, 1927--January 31, 2006

Few can offer that they have dedicated their lives to peace and justice as can Coretta Scott King. While she was the wife of dynamic civil rights leader, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., she was accomplished in her own rights. She was a gifted musician and promoted education her entire life. Born into a segregated world, she made a difference to the world. Permanently etched in the hearts and minds of many was the quiet grace of a woman holding her child while at the funeral of her husband. However, there are still some of us who missed that Coretta was not a woman who walked in the shadow of her husband, but stood by his side, not only urging him to his greatness, but standing up to him when sometimes he failed.

The story that comes to mind is the day their house was bombed. It was the one time that Dr. King was said to have decided that there was a time that non-violence couldn't work. I hear it often on the Peace Hour, the question of 'What if someone attacked your family, your children? Would you not then meet violence with violence?' It was said on that night as Martin reached for a rifle to stand on his porch and declare that he would not tolerate attacks on his family, Coretta urged him to stand down! And he did.

Are you afraid? In today's world, we are being taught the lessons of fearing the other. We know that people will do evil to other in the name of religion, power, greed. And we can take up arms to meet them on the battlefield OR ...

Here is where I believe we, as women, can be at our best. We can stand up for justice. We can stand up for peace. We can stand up for democracy and freedom. BUT ... we must stand down on violence --- in all of its forms.

Violence: Classism

Violence: Poverty

Violence: Racism

Violence: Bad Educational Systems

Violence: Inequity of Health Care

Violence: Consumption of the Earth's resources without taking responsibility

Violence: Lack of Transparency

Violence: Hidden Agendas/Bad Intentions

Violence: Not listening/Not being heard

Violence: Not being willing to change

See. Violence comes in all forms. It is not just war with guns and ammo, but the war we have each day as we struggle to choose peace ... or not!

I met Coretta several times. She was always gracious and giving. She was also steadfast and incorruptible. She kept the sacred flame alive in her life, in her children's lives and in this country. Fairness, justice, honor ... key words that we should inscribe in our hearts today in honor of this great lady. We honor our heroes and sheroes by emulating the best they have offered to us. She now serves as one of the ancestors whose shoulders we continue to stand on. Ladies and gentlemen, it is the work of those gone before us that gives us the hope of all of our tomorrows.

For more information on Mrs. King's Life: http://www.stanford.edu/group/King/about_king/encyclopedia/king_coretta_scott.htm

Spirit Will Wake You Up ...

But try not to hit the snooze alarm. Believing in yourself is one of the greatest challenges. Today is the first day of 2006. I am going to be 53 this year and I'm excited about it. It is a number that holds fear from some--getting older, but that isn't happening with me. I know that this is my year. Why? I'm changing some things right off the bat. I charged into 2006, leaving my hindrances behind.

The last year was filled with what I believe to be hinderances. Guilt. Shame. Loneliness. Fear. Anger. Hurt. Sorrow. They didn't come upon me all at once. They didn't come all the time, but there were those moments of distress that paralyzed me--created inadequate functioning. I second-guessed myself. Often, I succumbed to the hurt and sorrow of family matters. I didn't pursue my dreams, feeling that I had to work for others--and deny myself. I didn't listen to spirit because I sometimes believed that God couldn't possibly want me to tell the stories I thought relevant. I needed to get a real job. And yet, my "job" was unfulfilling and I found myself telling stories at every chance I could. I didn't care if I got paid for it, I just wanted to tell these stories. And sometimes I did. The sad thing is sometimes I didn't.

This year I participated in an event called "Tellebration." It was storytelling at its finest and the truth is the Texas community of storytellers has a long way to go--but it has an incredible wealth of individuals who CAN tell a story. The day of the Tellabration event, I had one problem after another. Kinda the "bills and short change" scenario that I talk about in my Christmas poem (A Sister Christmas), plus the silly men and their war games is an issue that should be on the radar of every human being on the planet. We've got to change the way we do things and we've got to eradicate war more than ever before. It's a rich man's game with poor (wo) men casualties. But I digress. I almost didn't do Tellabration ... and even after I said yes, that night was filled with so much of my "stuff" that I thought I wouldn't be able to go on. Then I stood center stage ... in front of the lights and ...

Well, lets just say, I told a great story! I felt it course through my veins, implode through my pores and out of my mouth came pure entertainment (with a little bit editorializing that I'm famous for). But, I found my power and I shared it. And then I lost it again. I got busy with the fundamentals of life ... and wasn't able to catch it for a while, mostly because I didn't have a place to tell the stories. Then it hit me! Of course, I have a place to tell stories. I do it all the time. Emails. Yep! And my blogs which take into consideration the places where I put my energies--my work for building a culture of peace through non-violence. For women. For the children. For us all.

And then there is my radio show. The Peace Hour Radio Show on KPFT has been a show in the making for two years. The first show was January 7th (2004--4 days after my Mother's death): The Meaning of the Dream alongside a MLK program at St. Thomas Univerity. Ernest McMillan was my first guest and I caught it again. Not only do I tell the stories, I gather them and other people tell their stories. We have talked peace in all its forms. From education to healthcare, politics to religion (not forbidden discussions on the show), and peace within (with my friend Laura Holiday). We're doing it and hopefully when "The Peace Hour" becomes a regular show this year (hopefully by February 2006), we'll do more of it.

So, this ramble is that spirit is constantly offering us the opportunity to "wake up!" Wake up to new ideas. Wake up to your own creativity. Wake Up to Life! And Reason. And Answers. To Peace. I'm taking 2006 by storm. I'm cleaning out the cobwebs of my mind's hindrances and moving towards holding on to the empowering love of storytelling in all its forms. That's where I live. That's where I'm happiest. That's where I do the most good.

Peace to you and yours as you find your place. Wake Up! It's a new day. P.K.

Healing the Healers ...

Over the years, I have been to many, many workshops and retreats for women. By going, my heart longed to find the answers that would make my life more fulfilling—would help me to stop making the same mistakes—would aid in my growth and well-being—make me happier, more prosperous, more adventurous—you each know what I’m talking about. So, it was especially interesting to think that I might have something to offer to women myself. And that is when I knew.

What I’ve learned is that we all have a piece of the puzzle. And that piece of the puzzle is within each of us. We must therefore glean from each other in order to find the pieces to our life’s puzzle so that we can heal. From our healing comes the healing of the planet. Make no mistake, we are the healers of our time. But, we’ve been damaged. Until we find our healing, the world will continue on its course. This is not to put all of the world’s problems on our shoulders, however. It is to put the world inside our heart where it will be safe. We can only do that when we heal. And when we heal, we will mirror for the world what it can become.

The Heal the Healer Project is about finding our heart strength. Love does conquer fear—that paralyzing fear that thwarts our attempts at real life. The paralyzing fear that many of us cover up—it shows up in other ways. How? We have diabetes, heart disease, and are overweight. We are anxious and frustrated and we sometimes take it out on our kids, spouses, friends, strangers—ourselves. We buy and buy and stay busier and busier. We are not truly happy or satisfied. How do I know? I’m complaining, too. I know.

So, what are we going to do about it? Well, the Heal the Healer project is about finding out. Utilizing the skills of professionals and each other (professionals in our own rights), we will develop this program throughout the year. At the end of the year, we will analyze what works, what doesn’t, and where we go from here.

What are we going to do about your stress? Time will tell as we meet, share and grow. Join us. It is your choice. But, it is a good choice, too. By participating in the Heal the Healer project (something we build together), I'm hoping that you'll share with one another your experiences, rituals, and heart-saving techniques. We'll find ourselves as we help other women find themselves. Won’t you add a piece to the puzzle? Contact me for more information at 713-522-9849. Peace.

Empowerment Rituals ...

It's been a tough few years. Each year it seems I lose a little bit more of myself. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I find that losing that part of me that is afraid is good. Losing that part of me that hides things is good. Losing that part of me who would procrastinate is good. Yet, of all the things I've lost, I now know that it takes losing one's self to find something remarkable --- me, after all.

Recently a friend and I decided it was time to renew our broken selves. We decided it should be immediate and that it would begin at sunrise. I spent the night at my office, sleeping on my floor. I thought about what I would do, say to the Universe. And, I took this opportunity to join with a sister who knows my struggles and who has been a faithful friend and confident. And before the dawn, we took our candles, our sage, our ancestors and we held hands, sang songs and ushered in the new day. We literally lost ourselves in the ritual only to find ourselves again.

Immediately it took shape. Immediately it took form. But, I don't remember if I recognized it right away. It's funny about change. It can be overwhelming and powerful. But, more often than not, the subtlety of change can be overlooked or missed. Rituals open portals. These portals are openings to wisdom and life. We are always on the precipice of death, our lives hanging in the balance. And our choice is always one of either choosing life or death. I keep choosing life -- at the end of the day. The moments in between are questionable.

When faced with the struggles of life, some of us have the mettle to survive. Others do little more than survive and some don't survive at all. In the wake of Katrina I'm faced with the question of whether I am my sister's keeper. And I find that in many ways, I've been preparing for this all my life. I just have to know it and act accordingly.

This week I've received emails from angry sisters -- angry from the depths of their souls. They are frustrated and grieving deeply and bitterly. Is it any one thing? No, absolutely not. The tragedy of Katrina. The killing of Frances Newton. The horrible way we confirm a chief justice who doesn't have everyone's best interest at heart. We are angry about the war and the fact that our sons and daughters are dying. And, not just my black sisters (in case you're thinking I've only black sisters). I've talked and cried with all my sister friends, from every ethnicity and class --- each as angry as the next.

I remember the story of Jonah (sorry, I generally like using a woman's story, but this one characerizes what I need to say most). In the story, Jonah is pissed off with God because he felt that God allowed a certain group of people to survive. I can relate. And I think the women of the world today can relate. There's one difference, though. We give birth to the seeming monsters that plague us. We love them and hate them at the same time. But, the hate is not for them, but for the actions. And maybe that's why my losing myself is a good thing. I'm finally losing that part of myself that feels sorry for me and the sorry state of the world. I'm losing myself to a whale of understanding and realizing that we are in the same boat ... one boat, ya'll! And that unless we all work together, we're gonna capsize.

Tonight I sit in my office. I'm still procrastinating a little bit because I know that when I set out on my true path, world look out! A change is gonna come. See, right after the ritual it seems like everything came to a head. Like a ripe pimple, the ritual took out the pus and dirt and while I can see the scab, it is healing. I am healing. That day that things came to a head, I took a good look and guess what I did? I leaped anyway.

I'm dancing now in my heart. I'm dancing in my soul. My creativity is at an all time high and its good, scary, fun and ever changing. I'm gonna have a little fun and dance with the Creator on those occasions that I find myself losing the self. And I'm going to enjoy rituals with my sisters and with myself on a regular basis. It's sisterhood survival 101.

I didn't tell you what happened when it all came to a head, did I? The next morning I woke -- not with a headache or a dullness as in times before. No, instead I was refreshed and imbued with a new outlook. And while I didn't know it the day before, I knew today was my day. At last, what was lost was now found.

Peace

Sisterhood ...

The battle of the sexes rages on and today is my birthday. I realize that I have reached yet another milestone, but why now do I still have doubts? Why do I still second-guess myself? Why still?

If it were not for my sisters, I don't think I would have survived. We have been there for each other in ways that marvel the senses. I look back at my life and realize that at some of the hardest forks in the road, there were the women. First, my grandmother and mother. Miss Elaine brought me into this world through my mother's thighs, soothing both her babies at the same time. I don't remember the "Push, Savantha" in reality, but in heart, I see my grandmother urging my mother to give me life. I know that my grandmother caught me in loving arms, wiped and cleaned me and heard my first cry. I know that she and my mother counted every toe and finger and that I was loved from the moment I entered this world.

Countless time I remember the women. I can name them all. I can see them all. From aunts and older cousins to my baby cousin Mary Adell, these were my beginnings. Later, there were the teachers and family friends, Miss Bessie and Mrs. Sharp in New Mexico where schooling began. Individuals who taught me beauty and language. I owe them both.

On and on, even now, the sisterhood has sustained me. While there have been times when we haven't been nice to one another, but for the most part, if it were not for the women in my life, I could not have survived cancer, my granddaughter's death, my mother's death, or the current trials of life and love.

It is not to say that men are not important. They are. They are part of this earth's core, masculine and strong, but theirs is not the only strength. We are strong, sisters, and this is our opportunity to get stronger because we birth the world and our children depend on us. It is therefore imperative that we depend on each other.

More to come, but share your thoughts. Let me know what sisterhood means to you.

Namaste'
P.K.