Of Birthday, Change and Human Kindness

For a few moments I toyed with the idea of not writing a post today. I usually write in the evenings, unless it's one of those that take several days to write. Those have been few. Related to that, and, as I must've mentioned before, I don't write and schedule publications. About 95% of what gets here is fresh off the mind and heart. But, the mind is tired tonight. The heart is fine. Heh heh. Thanks for wondering.

Being on vacation does that to one, I guess. Being on vacation and celebrating a birthday is something else. And, being on vacation, celebrating a birthday and observing Easter, is an even more potent mix for successfully dividing one's attention. Plus, I'm hot. I mean, it's tropical here so the temps... You know what I mean.

My birthday was a couple of days ago. I had a truly delightful day. As I told an acquaintance, I love having birthdays. Consider the alternative, eh? :-) I'm thankful my life was spared to see another one. And, it's always nice to spend time with family and friends in celebration.

I was reviewing something earlier today and came across a gem I'd transcribed. It was a quote by a Grade 6 student in the USA, and it went stteo: As you get older, everything will seem different. But nothing will change, except you. I promise. I really like that quote. It's true, isn't it? The world was here before you got here. It presents its usual offerings. We use - or misuse - its resources. And we perceive what it becomes, and how, as our needs and desires change over time. The principle of existence (love), and the issues related to the human condition, make us see things in different ways as we grow.

That's one of the perks of being a writer. It is always nice to look back at previous writings and see how your views or passions have changed. Fun project in compare/contrast.

There was an unusual and nice moment on B-day. After a lovely lunch, as we were leaving the restaurant, the doorman, who had learnt a few minutes before that I was celebrating my birthday, offered to sing for me. I graciously accepted his offer. He cleared his throat a few times, then proceeded to charm me with a delightful rendition of the Happy Birthday song, while walking to the car. We topped it off with a hug! Human kindness overflowing...

I'm looking forward to a great year! I can hardly wait to use the "Hummunuh! Hummunuh!" a girlfriend of mine insisted I use when that time comes. Okay. You mightn't get it now. But, if...when the time does come, I'll go into more detail. In the meantime, let's just consider this a placeholder of sorts.

Let the new year begin!



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

Writers' Heaven

How often do we get the opportunity to occupy our comfort zone? (Not thinking in the sense of Occupy Wall, Bay, Main and other streets now.  Stay with me.)  I mean occupy as in filling up our entire comfort zone  with, and being engaged in, something that is so satisfying, it moves us.  Hmm.  Occupy to the point of being moved.  And, we might have a few comfort zones but, I'm talking about that special one; the one you'd refer to as the zone.  Truth is, depending on our particular situations, we don't get such an opportunity very often.  What to do?  What to do?  If it means that much to us, we have to make these opportunities; make the time to indulge in and bask in and revel in that zone.

I don't know whether this has ever happened to you, but, over the past couple of years - and, more so, in the past few months - it has happened to me.  It's that phenomenon where, you publicly express your desire or preference for something and, all of a sudden, you become aware of like things around you.  Once I finally knocked some sense into my head and woke up conscious to the fact that my not being a published writer does not make me any less of a writer; once I recognized the fact (read: fact) that I had to write or suffocate; once I nodded my head in agreement with my handsome inner editor that I was not in love with the idea of writing (though, what a lovely idea, eh?) but the act of writing - and that the act is hard, grueling, at times frustrating work that might not even be rewarding except in the relief and satisfaction that the words on the page are exactly the words you wanted to get out; the story you wanted to tell...  Once I got all that out, or done, or in, I began to see opportunities to help me on this journey.  Folks around me - beside my sis @MizDurie, my harshest and gentlest critic, and my mother @jawil7, my biggest fan, in whose eyes none of my writing is ever crap (Language! Sorry, mother!) - started talking to me, and getting me to talk, about my writing.  In time, encouragement came from other quarters like Twitter - people whom  I'd never met before, but seemed to realize what my writing meant to me. Imagine my joy when I saw a comment on one of my posts from @grammakaye the other day!  Precious little things like that...

And, bigger things, too!  I long ago signed up for alerts to communications courses organized by my workplace.  Imagine my delight when I saw one for Creative Communicators! I registered. The long and the short, turns out I had registered for writers' heaven!  And I didn't have to die or anything!  It was a glorious day spent occupying my comfort zone.  And, people who "get it"; who get "this writing thing" were there.  Do you know how much of a relief it is not to have to explain the wherefores (read: whys) of yourself as a writer?  It's surprising how light that makes you feel. The facilitators, @imruthwalker and @gwynnscheltema, gently helped me discover, hitherto yet unknown (to me, anyway) abilities within.  (It was like that time I went to audition for that ad, and the casting director asked me to convey a particular emotion.  It was not until that moment that I knew I could cry on cue!)  So, there we were, in writers' heaven.  It was a mixed group - folks at different places on their own journeys.  We shut the doors; shut out the rest of the workplace - and the world.  We locked ourselves away and made ourselves at home.  Home.  Just looking at that word, knowing the weight of the meaning it holds in relation to my writing, brings tears.  I have a bit of a reference to a Robert Frost's poem on my Twitter account.  But, the desired quote from "The Death of the Hired Man" says, "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in."  I live in writing.  It's a haven for me. (The Lord knows what I mean; He gets it.) It's that place where, if they don't take me in, I'd be homeless...

I'm glad they've taken me in.  Who's "they"?  Doesn't matter.  At this moment, though, "they" just might be my alter ego which has an alter ego - which isn't me!  The little voices in my head must be them plotting how to get out.  Periodically, I pay them some mind, introduce them to my handsome inner editor, and, as soon as we transcribe their stories, they go quiet again.

'Til next time.


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

I have wings! (Cee Dubya)

A former co-worker gave me a postcard shortly before we part ways in 2004. On the cover is a cartoon depiction of a girl in a swing, reaching up, hair blowing in the wind. The caption reads: "She always knew she could fly..." On the inside: "...the question remained, "How high?""

Love that.

(Of course, I still have the card.)

I remembered all this the other day after we'd had quite an exciting Saturday morning - March 13, 2010. My little sis telephoned me and greeted me with stteo: "Congratulations! Your letter to the Editor is the Letter of the Day!!!" Well! I could hardly utter a coherent sentence. I had to tap each key, rather slowly, to type the URL. When I finally got to it, there it was: My letter - a thing of beauty.

We went over it again and then some. We analyzed why the Editor had made the "corrections"/amendments he had; why he had omitted a section of a paragraph as well as the very last line ("Maybe he is trying to protect you," she offered). I called Mommy and asked her to get a copy of The Gleaner with my letter of the day in it. She did. And they - she and Daddy - read it again.

My other sisters offered their congrats and support, too. Yes. It was, truly, one of the best days of my life.

For, you see, as I reminded my lil sis, it was encouraging to me as a suffocating writer. She has a sense of how daunted I feel under the weight of knowing that I am a writer but not writing what I should. It's like I mention in the title and sub-title of another blog: The Vital Air: When you're suffocating, all you can think about is breathing.

I am yet to write my book(s). I don't want to go to my grave with it (them) inside me.
I am yet to write the book with Daddy - worse yet.

So, it's been kinda like that. (See very first entry in this blog.) And then, one day, someone thought that what I had written was worth publishing - and worth the distinction, to boot!

My prayer was short: Oh God, thank you for my wings!

Below is a copy of my letter to the Editor of the Jamaican newspaper, The Gleaner. I used the email associated with my pen name, Cee Dubya.

Sidney Bristow was right. "There's no drug like adrenaline!"

********

The Editor, Sir:

When we appoint certain people to be "entrusted with the responsibility to lead the State's anti-corruption, law-enforcement and prosecutorial institutions" (a quote borrowed from another paper), what are the measures that we put in place to ensure that they are up to the mark, and keep up to the mark, in every way, as they carry out their duties?

Apart from periodic reports - which can say anything you want them to - what do we do to make sure that in every nook and cranny, things are being done in acceptable ways? Sure there are audits, but, again, don't you wonder sometimes how some things get 'overlooked'?

As so many have said, repeatedly, Jamaica has sunk into a rather horrific abyss. The taxpayers would welcome suitable persons in whom to repose their trust. However, when we appoint someone in Jamaica to a position of almost unrestrained power - doesn't matter who it is - we have to remember that that person is human. He or she, like anyone else, has to deal with personal demons. There may be psychological or emotional shortcomings which, as we know, are not usually indicated on a résumé or highlighted during an interview or even have been demonstrated in a 'less powerful' job. Being in a position where he or she doesn't have to answer to anyone, per se, is a pretty powerful one. As Lord Acton said in a letter to Bishop Mandel Creighton in 1887: "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."

Hope is not a method

Does this mean that we leave these positions of almost unlimited power unfilled because each man/woman has his/her set of weaknesses? Do we throw our hands up, appoint someone who seems to fit the bill, and then hope for the best? Again, hope is not a method.

It's a different take on the whole thing, but, I submit that while we look around for these positions of power to be filled, for the best woman or man to be "entrusted with the responsibility to lead the State's anti-corruption, law-enforcement and prosecutorial institutions", we also institute some kind of mandatory psychological (and other relevant) evaluation to assure ourselves that the incumbent remains fit for the job - in every way! No set date, either. Between a year and 18 months, with no more notice than a day or two, the evaluation is done and the taxpayers get to hear the final result. No. This is not to evaluate them to determine sainthood. But, certainly, however it is crafted, it should help to determine whether power is going to the head, and possibly leading to some 'can't touch dis!' behaviour.

Real transparency

Consider the yet-to-be created Independent Commission of Investigations to be led by a commissioner - pretty powerful position. Generally, those are regarded as 'what I say, goes' positions. But, every public position is answerable to someone and, ultimately, the country's taxpayers. A palatable pronouncement is one thing. Behind the closed doors of the organisation, what is taking place and how? Intrusive? Lack of trust? Perhaps, but, we're talking about real, real transparency. Nothing to hinder the work, just enough to keep us assured.

So, it's not just about who is watching the watchman. Deeper still, are we keeping track of whether he or she is embracing delusions of grandeur under the weight of the powerful position? Who questions him/her? Do media even bother? Listen, danger ahead when people in powerful positions become 'media darlings'. The media only become conduits of messages and clearly lose objectivity as they are essentially dictated to, as they dare not carry out 'investigative journalism' which might topple the status quo. And if the media do get wind that something has gone awry, again, do they bother, or do they just leave it be, because everything else seems to be working and 'no better nuh deh a John shop'?

Things like reports and audits do not necessarily capture, for example, the hell of a milieu to which employees are sometimes subjected, as they endure the psychological and emotional onslaughts borne out of the psychological and mental delusions from occupying an 'almighty' position.

I am, etc.,

VERY CONCERNED


********


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

The Blank Page

One of the scariest things to a writer is, yeah, you guessed it: the blank page.

Today, instead of being scared, I'm simply going to wait until I have something meaningful to say.

How's that?


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