The Tablet: In Sacred Memory

Here's something you don't see on this blog very often - an image.  In this case, three.  I've read the bits of advice time and again.  For e.g., make sure blog entries contain at least one image. My take is that I write for reading.  Unless an image is going to be a visual aid and/or add weight to the post I'd rather not include one.

From the moment I laid eyes on this tablet sometime after seven o' clock this morning, I knew I wanted to blog about it. And, I straightway imagined it as an image to be included.  So, I remained after the service - my friend, Debbie, waited patiently - to take a few photos.  Even though most of the congregants had filed out, I tried to be as reverent, discreet and non-touristy as possible.  I felt more and more at ease as I went on to take a few of the sanctuary.  The St. George Parish Church in Barbados is a beautiful building.  It's the oldest ecclesiastical building on the island - architecture less Gothic; more Georgian (via a little Google search).

The line that stood out for me then, and got stuck in my head after, is this one:

"And give her husband just reason to deplore the loss of the greatest of God's blessings; a Christian wife."


For several reasons, I wouldn't, couldn't let it go:

(Took this pic on Resurrection / Easter Sunday, April 8, 2012.)

THE USE OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE
Unless we indulge in a certain genre of writing, we just don't see the English language being written in such a beautiful and eloquent way these days. True, I don't expect the daily news to sound like an obituary - though, sometimes, it does come close.  However, over time, much eloquence has been lost.  Perhaps it's because of the literature to which I was exposed growing up.  The likes of Milton, Dickens, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Wilde, Lawrence accompanied me throughout my high school and University years. The language was more complex, and within its complexity, it carried a certain beauty.  Perhaps it was the challenge of unearthing the meaning of the likes of, "If music be the food of love, play on," and the subsequent reward in being singled out by my third form (Grade 9) teacher to explain to the rest of the class that "he was in need of love."  Whatever the reason I found it enchanting, they had a way with words.  This tablet - and, especially that line - brought me back to that delightful time.

THE LOSS
Charles Darling suffered the loss of his wife, Anne, shortly after her twenty-fourth birthday.  Having no knowledge of the story behind all this, and, not wanting to do any deep research for this particular post, I let myself be satisfied with what was provided.  She was such a young woman; perhaps they were a young couple.  There was no info to indicate for how long they had been married.  However, the latter section of the tablet made me wonder...

THE DOUBLE LOSS
Charles Darling suffered another loss just about a month after - that of his twenty-one month old son.  I'm thinking that the Darlings' marriage might have been under three years old.  A child would've come soon after marriage, back then.

It's not that I picked a tablet and decided to dote on it.  I think, for the first time, after many instances of reading tombstones and tablets and being fascinated by the dates (they were born how long ago???) I was genuinely interested in how these persons, generations ago, expressed their sorrow.  I think that line - wouldn't it have been penned by Charles Darling? - helped draw me in.

And, in a really warped way, I drew some small comfort in the fact that, no matter the epoch or generation or historical age,  some things have not changed.  Among them, our emotions.  The way we express them? Maybe.  But, sorrow is sorrow and joy is joy, whether it's 1837 or 2012.

THE MORTALITY
Of course, as at other times when faced with the details, or a summary, of death, who can walk away without thinking for a moment of his/her own mortality?  And, if time goes until then, one hundred and seventy-five years from this, who will cast a second glance at the tombstone - or tablet - erected in memory of me?  Will anyone be moved by it?  Will it cause them to engage in a bit of reflection; introspection?  Will it cause them to think, as I did for a second, about their own fleeting mortality, and where they'll spend eternity?   Then again, if it's a tombstone, the thing mightn't be legible by then anyway!

I'm not too hung up on death.  It's more the dying I think about - like many others, I'd rather not suffer in pain while I'm departing this weary sod.  But, it's the dying without Christ that freaks me out.  My Christianity is not just a "fire insurance".  It's a cherished relationship with Jesus Christ.  But, dying with Him does mean that I get to spend eternity with him in heaven.  Just sayin'.

Through His death and resurrection I have hope of my own resurrection and eternal life.  Booyah! *Ahem*  I mean, and that is wonderful!  You gotta believe in something - and I believe in this.

(Inside the St. George Parish Church. Resurrection painting Rise to Power by Benjamin West R.A.  Took this pic on Resurrection / Easter Sunday, April 8, 2012.) 

(View from outside the St. George Parish Church built 1784. Took this pic on Good Friday, April 6, 2012.)

Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

At For-ty, I'm Beginning to Understand... 2

My thanks for the kind comments on my previous post (via FB and email).   Got a few from unexpected - but delightful - sources.  Shall we continue?

At For-ty, I'm beginning to understand why some people enquire, regarding their recently-deceased loved one, "Did he/she suffer?"  I didn't quite get it, really, whenever I'd heard it before my maternal grandmother's passing.  Her's was sudden.  And because of the how, that was one of the foremost thoughts in my mind.  "Did she suffer?"  It happened a few years before I turned For-ty, but, it's something on which I've since dwelt.  Now, having heard of a few other people who've passed on since then - whether relatives or relatives of friends - I've tried to understand what it is about knowing whether they suffered toward the end that is so important.  Admittedly, I haven't come up with much.  However, the little that I have says this.  Those of us left to mourn their loss just need that last bit of assurance that they went without suffering.  We are just glad and thankful that their final moments were not awful ones.  Even to the end, we want the best for those we love!  The answer we are always hoping to hear is, "No.  He/She didn't suffer."  For, in a strange yet comforting way, that answer brings a great relief!  And we think, "Good.  I'm glad to hear that."   In another sense, it's kinda for our benefit, too.  In an unintentionally selfish way, we are comforted knowing that they went without agony.  For, if they hadn't, how much more painful for us to know that we could not have been there to alleviate some of that pain/agony/suffering?  But, I'm wont to think it's more the former.  We want the best for our loved ones even in the end.

I'm beginning to understand that it is important to have a hand I can hold every now and then.  Sometimes I just need a hand to hold; that could be all the conversation and connection I need.  That hand, at the right moment, makes me feel comforted and loved and special and that I'm not in it (whatever it is) alone.  It could be the hand of a friend or a family member - even that of a stranger.  Hm.  True story.  I had been invited to a function that was to take place on the 51st (or was it 54th?) floor of a TD Bank building downtown Toronto.  I am scared of heights.  As the elevator ascended, I said as much to the two strangers who were en route to the same function.  The woman next to me said stteo: "If you want, you can hold my hand."  She must've heard the sigh of relief as I said, "Thank you!" And I reached out and took her hand.  Long after we'd exited the elevator - after what seemed like days - I kept thanking her.  But, that's what I'm talking about.  A hand to hold at the right moment.

I'm beginning to understand that people need people.  One of my fav stories is about a little girl who was asking for her dad's help to get undressed.  She was about 5 years old.  The father knew she could do it on her own and told her so.  She replied stteo: "Yes Daddy.  But, people need people, even when they can do things by theirselves [sic]."   I've grown accustomed to doing a lot of things by myself.  I hardly ever ask for help.  I don't like DIY, so I buy things that don't require assembly.  And, if they do, the store "will send somebody out."  But, that's beginning to change - because "people need people."  It's not just about putting things together, either.  I've found that it's about the company and the connection and the camaraderie and the celebration of unified achievement that comes with getting help and doing things together.  And, of a truth, there are some things that I simply am not able to do on my own. For those things, it is okay to ask for help.  And, wouldn't you know it?  The people to whom I reach out usually say yes.  (They may sound a tad surprised, but that's beside the point.)  I'm reminded of my fav Tina Turner song, "Help" (a cover of The Beatles, I believe.  And, btw, this live version sounds exactly like the one I taped from radio in the mid-80s, btw.)  It starts out, "When I was younger/So much younger than today/I never needed anybody's help in any way/And now those days have gone/I'm not so self-assured/And now I find, I've changed my mind/I've opened up the doors."   Guess life's just like that.  You get to that point, at some point...

I'm beginning to understand that it's okay to know who I am and what those things are up with which I will not put! :-) That I do not have to apologize for liking or disliking, wanting or not wanting, preferring or not preferring certain things.  In my conveying these preferences, I remain respectful - more so diplomatic - with a hint of a smile.  Sometimes an outright one.  A few years ago, in two jobs I held for (not surprisingly) under two years, an unfamiliar sense of relief swept over me when I finally admitted to myself, "I hate my job! I hate going to work there!"  I didn't leave right away.  But, somehow, that verbalized truth added gusto to my steps.  I didn't have to hold it in anymore and was able to endure the remaining months without imploding!  At For-ty, it's easy to sense what's in sync with my own preferences and likes and so on.  Easy to spot.  If it's not, it's kinda like another fav story of mine from years ago.  The watchman at a lighthouse kept watch night after night. A bell or a horn or something went off marking a given time every night.  One night, due to some malfunction, the bell didn't go off.  The watchman was startled out of his sleep by the omission of the familiar sound and jumped up, "What was that?" 

For me, in some cases of a new acquaintance/relationship, the omission of a quality or trait that should be in sync is easy to spot.  My "What was that?" moment sometimes lasts too long, as I give way to my main resolution (at For-ty) to be more "open". Whatever the heck that means!  Well, what I meant at the time  - and I imagine I still do now - is that I wouldn't be quick to write people off for saying or doing the occasional "dufus" thing.  Get to know 'em.  A few traits mightn't be in sync, but, I'd give it time.  In general, try new things; go for the adventure.  You know?  The one outside my square - home, work, church, store?  But, the truth is, it's easier said than done.  As that longtime quote (don't recall who said it) goes, "I want somebody who's already ticking the way he should be."

I'm beginning to understand that it's okay to want that; that and a number of other things on that shrunken list.  I've had a few relationships over the years and in each of them I have "loved thickly" - as that Toni Morrison line goes.  For, "what good is thin love?"  I'm glad to say that I have learned something from each of them.  After a six- or seven-year break from dating, I now desire my him.  Like I said, the list has shrunken but a few things have remained. He has to love our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Just...just take my word for it that other than that, there is no point.  He must love me - and like me.  Be each other's BFF.  He has to be affectionate - occasional PDA, not so much to make me or other folks uncomfortable - and romantic.  Sense of humour; good job (that he likes); can help the kids with their homework - especially Maths and Science and not be afraid of li*ards!  The laundry thing?  I'm kinda getting over that, given that it has become more convenient now.  But, if he wishes, I might be up for negotiating wrt to that particular chore!  Other attributes/qualities/traits/characteristics I pray that I can live with.  Another woman might go, "No way!"  While for me, re that same trait, I'd be like, "Pshww! I'm fine with that."

Hmmm.  I'm definitely beginning to understand that as much as I desire my him to be this that and the other, wherever he is, he is praying for his one and only to be this that and the other, too!  So, as someone said to me the other day, "You don't know how sexy it is that you have your sh*t together," (he had asked me to excuse the language), I take some comfort that I am on the right track.  Funny thing is, because I do have much of my stuff together, it could be a tad more difficult to discern the right one.  I'm old fashioned and do want to marry for love.  Not because it makes economic sense; not because of what I have etc.  For love.  And, it is exactly for this reason that I have to continuously seek God's guidance in my interactions with those with whom I come into contact - on and offline.  (Yeeeah.  The square isn't working. Other means necessary. Or so I think.)  I will be true to him.  As Proverbs 31 admonishes, his heart will be safe with me and I will do him good and not evil all the days of my life.

I'm beginning to understand the love and mercy of God.  That I truly am undeserving of His grace and mercy and lovingkindess.  That my only plea is that His Son, Jesus Christ, died for me and calls me friend and I'm joint heir with Him.  That in Christ's doing so, God's wrath and judgment that I do deserve was satisfied - not by any good deed or any other thing I could possibly have done!  That Romans 5: 7-8 and 1Cor 1: 18-29 will always tear me up and bring me to my knees in gratitude to Him.  When I was about 27 or so, I experienced Christ's rescue.  Sometime in this my year of For-ty, I have experienced His mercy and His love.  There are no words to describe how grateful I am to Him; how much I love Him and how much He means to me.  Yes, I'm beginning to get a glimpse of how much I mean to Him.  I simply ask these days that He help me use up my talents and apply the necessary hard work; that He help me be obedient and fearless!

Oh, there's so much more I'm beginning to understand.  People I don't know will care about me; people I've known for a while, won't.  Sometimes I have to apologize, even - and especially - when I don't want to.  Sometimes I have to force myself / be my own cheerleader, to get cracking on the things I must do - even when they're things I ordinarily enjoy doing. Sometimes I need to relax. I need to learn how.  I'm laughing a lot less these days, maybe 'cause I've been living alone for a while now.  Still, I need to get back to that place.

Sigh. Clearly, this post won't hold 'em all.  Might have to do a Part III  - at some point.   But, thankfully, I am beginning to understand these things.  I may never get them all down pat.  But, I'd like to think I'm off to a good start.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Can You Cross It?

By this time, I imagine that you have heard about one of the latest video sensations going viral.  Well, in case you haven't, it's the hilarious refix (and I understand why remix wasn't used) dubbed: "Nobody Canna Cross It" by Kevin-Sean Hamilton (aka DJPowa) - @k_seanDjPowa 

I've decided to provide a translation - primarily for non-Jamaican tweeps who've been bearing with me as I go on about the vid, and make references to select lines.  Truth is, I imagine that when some of them get to the vid, they are not able to understand most of what is being said.  Same goes for non-Jamaicans who've been hitting it on YouTube and other media.  Figured I'd help out.

(Btw, we're going in with the understanding that "nobody cannot" is the dreaded double negative.  But that, really, is the least of your worries re translation.  Hope you catch the nuances that add to the hilarity.  Also, some words will have to be replaced with others to get to the meaning - so, not necessarily word for word translation, per se, in some parts.)

Here goes:

Right now, nobody can cross it
It's only who can understand it cross it
Nobody can cross it
It's only a fisherman and a fisherwoman, trust me!
Nobody can cross it
It's only who can manage (handle) the water
It's only so (that way) they (can) come over
Or if we're around to help them.

Nobody can swim
'Cause if you cannot swim,
You cannot cross it
Nobody can cross it
(Unless) we're around to lift them over
A fisherman can cross it
And a fisherwoman (can) cross it
Cannot swim? Trust me
You gone (you'll be carried out by the current) to St. Thomas pond

Nobody can cross it
It's only who (can) understand it, cross it
Nobody can cross it
It's only a fisherman and a fisherwoman, trust me!
Nobody can cross it
It's only who can manage (handle) the water
It's only so (that way) they (can) come over
Or if we're around to help them.

Not all the vehicles - can cross it
This vehicle - cannot cross it
We're locked away in the wilderness
Nobody crosses it. (Baby pic: CROSS!)

Yesterday, the bus was coming from town
A bus load of people

It was just the mercy of God why the bus didn't go over
The bus can swim
The bus can swim
The bus can swim
Believe it or not
The bus can swim
Yesterday, the bus was just coming from town
The bus can cross it
The last time, (we had a) hurricane 
(And) we had dead to bury up the top
Nobody should walk
The bus can swim
Nobody should walk
The bus can cross it


Nobody can cross it
It's only who can understand it cross it
Nobody can cross it
It's only a fisherman and a fisherwoman, trust me!
Nobody can cross it
It's only who can manage (handle) the water
It's only so (that way) they (can) come over
Or if we're around to help them.

I'm very concerned; very concerned
Because nobody can cross it
Not even the kids can go to school, trust me!
Because nobody can cross it
A fisherman and a fisherwoman can cross it.
Like, they understand it
Cannot swim? Trust me
You gone to dead up (you're going to be dead up there)...

Nobody can cross it
It's only who can understand it cross it
Nobody can cross it
It's only a fisherman and a fisherwoman, trust me!
Nobody can cross it
It's only who can manage (handle) the water
It's only so (that way) they (can) come over
Or if we're around to help them.

Nobody can cross it
Nobody crosses it
It's only who can swim (can) cross it
Cr cr cross it CROSS!
No no no nobody (can) cross it

[Dara Smith, TVJ News]

Hope this has helped you to cross it!  Thinking I might write more on this - the appropriation of the #nobodycancrossit and #dibuscanswim into popular culture - one signifying a general acceptance of a perceived impossibility or improbability; the other, the underlining of the victory when seemingly daunting feats have been accomplished.  (Btw, sometimes all you need is someone there to help you!)  Not to mention, too, the derivatives.  Personalizations to read: I cannot cross it; you can cross it and so on.  We just need the "cross it" and we get the reference.  When positive, we're simply making the link, or transition, from the realm of impossibility to possibility.  OK.  Lemme not get carried away.  After all, I can cross it.

Noted Kevin's tweet a short while ago: "Truth is, #NobodyCannaCrossIt without #ff the ONLY Lord and Saviour #JesusChrist! Him a di ONLY one dat can ensure seh #DiBusCanSwim! BRB..."

True that, Kevin. True that.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"How does a person get to be that way?"

I'm not sure what triggered my move to check Roger Ebert's review of a particular movie. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure of the name of the movie right now, but, that's an aside. What I AM sure of, is that I hit upon a link to Ebert's blog and, well, the next thing you know, I was being drawn into a simply warm, engaging and beautiful piece of writing. The title of the top-most entry caught my eye: "How do they get to be that way?"

See, years ago I read for my degree in English. (They probably should have named the B.A. degree after the name of the department - Literatures in English. Way cool. Anyhow, I digress.) One of the required texts was "Annie John" by Jamaica Kincaid. Of all the lines and quotes and what not in that text, the one that had always stood out for me was this: "How does a person get to be that way?"

Since then, I've used it at every precious opportunity. Precious because, well, thankfully, they have been few and far apart. For there are times, indeed, when you can only shake your head in amazement, as you seriously ponder the phenomenon which you have the pain (usually pain) of beholding. At those times, I simply think it - sometimes out loud. I articulate it to no one in particular and try to situate the world back on its axis.

Of course, occasionally, I, too, am reminded that, well, how should I put this? Stteo, the world doesn't revolve around me. Not everything nor everybody will acquiesce to my every want. (Oh well.) I resort to thinking of how came I to this place? (Another (less-used) bit from "Annie John"?) And, in pretty short order, the answer comes. A quick glance and reflection - usually in chunks - over my close-to-forty years and the answer is clear. I came to this place by virtue of the fact that I have been becoming the me that I am today from the get go. It's all about the journey and the choices I made - and continue to make. For e.g., I chose, from an early age, to make Jesus Christ the centre of my life. That right there explains a humongous amount of the who, what and how I am. I choose to be neat - my place, though small - must be tidy and look, as Mommy says sometimes, "presentable." And, ooh, I dunno how much of it is Monk - the one I love for several reasons, but, least of which is not that I so totally identify with some of his preferences... We shall call them that.

So, when I stumbled (refreshingly) upon Ebert's title, I immediately got to reading. And the more I read, the more I thought about not only mentioning him, and that entry, in this blog, but also about making a link from my blog to his. Now that'd be a first.

While I ponder that, do enjoy Ebert's entry.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro