A Rescuer of Things

There's a quote I came across last October. It goes:

“You know what getting married is? It's agreeing to taking this person who right now is at the top of his form, full of hopes and ideas, feeling good, looking good, wildly interested in you because you're the same way, and sticking by him while he slowly disintegrates. And he does the same for you. You're his responsibility now and he's yours. If no one else will take care of him, you will. If everyone else rejects you, he won't. What do you think love is? Going to bed all the time?”
- Jane Smiley

I loved it the moment I read it. Shared it in a few consecutive tweets, too. When I got to the end, I kinda wanted to answer, "So, ummm, wait...what?" Lol! As a friend of mine said to me sometime last year, love alone isn't enough [for marriage]. And, whaddya know? Turns out that the make-up of the love itself might be different than what you had long envisioned.

All these things. (As a sis would say.) My thoughts turned to "these things" as I pored over almost two decades of writing the other night. Like, seriously. I'm gonna have to stop writing! ....... Hahahahahahahaha! I crack me up! Too funny! Okay. By that I mean... Actually, nothing comes to mind. Here's the thing. Perhaps I could just keep doing what I'm doing and, after a while, see what needs to go. Fast. And, unceremoniously. Because, well, I tend to keep it all. I'm gonna resist the temptation to list some of the things I've kept since nineteen long time.

I'm not a hoarder, per se. Hmm. Reminds me of a preview of "Hoarders" that was being shown repeatedly in the run-up to the broadcast date. As the woman in the clip cast a glance at the mountain of stuff in her house, she summed up her life's philosophy in this memorable piece: "I wouldn't say I'm a hoarder. I'm a rescuer of things."  Uh-huh.

My defence? I hold on to, and take care of, the things that mean a lot to me. Those "things" would include the pages and pages of thoughts on my friendships and relationships and interactions and passing fancies... When I came across the ones spanning about four months in 1996, I just knew that their retention period was up. And, it's not as if I had ever planned to have a retention period for these reams and wads and stacks of paper and books. I just figured I'd keep writing until I could no longer hold a pen or pencil to paper (including napkins, restaurant receipts...). What would family I'd have left behind do with the lot? No idea. I imagine, my life being spared, that it might be a good idea to put some instructions down somewhere. I mean, I still dream of becoming a world-renowned writer. In years to come, perhaps long after I'm gone, those pieces may very well become highly sought-after relics.

So, what caused me to ditch that batch? Quite simply, it was ugly. I felt like I was fingering a scar that I had somehow discovered a new fascination for. And, as I passed my finger over it, I couldn't resist picking at it then digging away at it. Like I was trying to figure out why and how I got that mark in the first place. And, for those twenty or so minutes that I dug and read - after a while I skimmed - I began to feel sickish. I no longer held it dear and it meant nothing to me now. There was no answer coming to complete the "I need to hold on to this because...". I did have a very ready answer for why it needed to go. There was no longer a place for such ugly in the beauty of the now.

There were no second thoughts. It was one of those things that, when you're doing it, or about to do it, you just know it's right. It's even beyond the realm of knowing to just being right. No long prayer, just time to act. So, I rolled up the papers, put 'em in my bag and took them to my workplace the following day. (Felt I needed to use the shredder that minces paper.) And, quite unceremoniously, I pulverized them!

After all, there are new things that are springing forth; new things for me to hold dear and take care of.  The beauty of the now shall be clutter-free. I gotta make room for the new things to grow. For, apparently, love is more than "going to bed all the time."


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

Being "the best by a tiny bit"

Several years ago while living in Rochester, New York, I took the decision to leave my then current job and go on the hunt for another. For one of my interviews, wanting to impress the recruiters, I went all out in creating a few samples of communications products. The message was consistent across the products and, as I spoke to the brochure in particular, I was quite excited as I tried to sell the company on my new and original slogan: "It just makes sense!" Well, I didn't get the job.

What I did get was one of the shocks of my life. About three months later, a new insurance company opened offices, and started offering their service, in Rochester. Their slogan? "It just makes sense." They had a few commercials that created scenarios of people/situations with a dearth of common sense. They built 'em up to that final scene where everything inevitably came crashing down. Had they chosen the insurance company...blah blah blah. But, I was stuck at the slogan! To this day, it would be difficult for anyone to convince me that my idea didn't make it out of that interview and into the ear of some marketing/ad person responsible for the insurance company's ad campaign.

The fact that this has happened to me means that it has happened to others. I took no action. I mean, how would I even begin to prove that my intellectual property (didn't call it that, then) and creativity had been encroached upon? Nay, stolen. By that time, anyway, I had already found a new job and, well, was simply not interested in pursuing it.

That experience left me in a funny place. Not haha funny but funny peculiar, as my sisters and I used to say growing up. How would I, from that moment, demonstrate my capabilities in satisfying recruiting requirements, while not furnishing my would-be employers with valuable insight/material for themselves or those within their network, if they end up not hiring me? It also made me feel that, were I to take that route, I would not be carrying out my full potential; I would be marring the integrity of my work through deliberate short-changing. Doing so would mean not being true to myself.

Over the years, I've changed jobs a few times - relocating to different countries will do that. Whenever I've had to attend an interview that asks for evidence of my work, that episode jumps out at me. In a few cases, the requirement is in reference to something they've already worked on. And, that's fine; that's the way it should be. In one or two cases, they go the "what if" route for a situation yet to be realized. With those, it's really a hard call. The last time I was faced with that, I did go all out, but, I introduced no new idea in the comms material - everything was already theirs. I created the materials and did the writing - to show them I could. My uniqueness was in my speed; the way I captured the voice and sound of the head of the company in the proposed speech and the way I showed that I totally got what the organization was about.

I'm not saying that is the way to go.  Kinda reminiscent of Dash in The Incredibles: "I'll only be the best by a tiny bit." Most of us want to be the best by more than a tiny bit. And, after learning that we didn't get  x or y job, we certainly don't want to be thinking, "Man! If I had just put that little extra in it!" It might come down to: "Do your best but be wise as well." I would like to think that organizations are more mindful nowadays of the kinds of projects they have candidates work on as they vie for certain positions; whether these projects leave the company with little to no wiggle room to benefit in any way from what a candidate brings to the table if that candidate ends up not being hired. At the very least, it's a matter of ethics, really.


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

EA and GM of the Universe

"This is God's Executive Assistant and General Manager of the Universe, may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with God, please?"

"I'm sorry? And you are?"

"Jeff. The guy from 123 Main Street, last house on the right."

"Jeff, there are hundreds of thousands of Main Street on earth. You will have to be more specific."

"But...but I thought He would know exactly which one..."

"Yes, He knows, but, I don't. And I'm the one scheduling the appointment. So, I'd like to know."

"Appointment? Am I not going to get to talk to Him right away?"

"Hahahahahahahaha! You're funny, Jeff. Are you a comedian by profession?

"No, I'm a doct - "

"OK. Really? I'm not interested. I'll file that for another day. In the meantime, no. You won't get to speak with Him right away. There are 574, 671,789 people ahead of you. So, I hope it's not urgent."

"Well, it kinda is. Can't you get me ahead, given the urgency? It's a matter of life and death."

"Yeeeah, that's what they all say - "

"But, it's true!"

"And, they all say that too. And, Jeff? Please don't raise your voice at me. As it is, your prospects aren't looking too good right now. Try not to make it worse. How is the 26th of September?

"Twenty sixth? Are you insane? That's months away! Didn't you hear me? I said it's urgent!"

"Ahhh, of course you did. We'll make that the 30th. Give you a little extra time to cool off..."

"What the...!"

*click!*


"Hello, this is Rita."

"Hi, Rita. May I speak with God please?"

"And you are?"

"I'm Michael; Michael with the gambling problem?"

"That doesn't help me much, Michael."

"It's me. Michael. The Michael that lost everything to this awful habit and I can't seem to get it under control..."

"Say... what now? Are you crying, Michael?"

"No, no I'm not crying. Just a bit down again, that's all."

"Mhmm! Sure. I can get you in for September 26. How much time will you need?"

"Nothing sooner?"

"Well, you said you've lost everything. Do you have anything left to gamble with, Michael?"

"Umm, no?"

"So, you're good then.  Just wait it out. Time also flies when you're not having fun."

"Okay. Alright. Thank you. I think..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"It better be nothing. And, by the way?"

"Yes?"

"God's last name isn't dammit. Says right here on your file on page number 897, 347 that you yelled that out the other day when you lost a game."

"Yes, I umm. I admit that - "

"Sorry. I don't take confessions. I was only reminding you."

"Oh, okay. Umm, thanks."

*click!*


"Hello, this is Rita."

"Hi Rita. This is Thoya."

"How may I help you?"

"I'd like to have a talk with God, please?"

"Hmmm, Thoya?"

"Yes?"

"I hate to tell you this but, nothing until October 1."

"Wow. After the last time we spoke, I realized I didn't tell Him some things I really wanted to tell Him."

"And whose fault would that be?  Since we started speaking, 798, 290, 375 people have joined the line. I can't waste time booking a make-up appointment you know. You have to use your time with Him well!"

"But, He enjoys when we talk together!"

"And I take it you think that means He wants to talk to you every day."

"Well, yeah."

"Don't kid yourself, Thoya. You're clearly of the opinion that you mean a lot to Him."

"But, I do."

"Hahaha. Another comedian."

"Pardon?"

"Not you, dear. Call back on October 1. In the meantime, just make sure you practice your prayer. Don't want to be leaving out anything now, k?"

*click!*

"Hello this is Rita."

"Salut Rita, c'est François."

"Oh, c'est vous."

"Ahh, vous souvenez de moi!"

"Comment pourrais-je oublier? Vous le problème inhabituel."

"Oui, eh bien, puis-je parler avec Dieu, s'il vous plaît?"

"François, n'est-ce pas un peu fatigué de ce péché avouer cycle?"

"Oui, je le suis. C'est ce que je veux lui parler de."

"Hmm. Bien sûr que si. Encore une fois."**

*click!*


"Hello, this is Rita."

"Rita, a me man!"

"Me who?"

"A me, Donavan from Jamaica, man!"

"What a gwan Papcaan?"

"Deh ya. Hear wha, mi waa talk to God bout sopm. Tink yuh can gi mi a bligh?"

"Zas Kri...My yute! Yuh nuh deh pon di phone ten second good yet and yuh a beg bligh? Mi have bout 2, 187, 649 people from Jamaica inna di line. A whaa gwan down deh so?"

"Rita my girl, is a long story, zi mi. Dem a tax out wi daylight; a tax patty; a tax church; a tax phone card; a tax tax...hundred dollar phone card a cost bout one sixty or one eighty now... Crime gone up; hopes gone dung..."

"But dis serious!"

"Den nuh dat mi a try tell yuh! Whe yuh can do fi mi?"

"Mi a bump smaddy. Hol di line."

"Respec my girl."

"Easy my yute."

*click*

And so it goes in this hypothetical scenario. People the world over wanting to talk to God but having to pass through an Executive Assistant. Of course, as this scenario goes, He would approach Rita's desk and lovingly tell her to put everybody's call through. 

"Everybody?"

"Everybody. I'll take them all at once. I got this."

I'm particularly happy that God, the Creator and Sustainer of Heaven and Earth takes time to hear me when I call; to commune with me; to love me as if I were the only person on earth to be loved.

As I thought about the end to that scenario, I remembered a funny and true story from long ago. One of my co-workers was telling us what happened during her cab ride home the night before. She said calls kept coming in from base (dispatch) for the cabbie to pick up folks at one address then another then another. He was a great cabbie and customers were asking for him by name. At about the third or fourth request, he answered, "Base? Tell di whole a dem seh mi a come!" Lol! 

Yes, at any time, He has time for all who turn to Him. And, (thankfully) there's no EA. He's got this.

(**via Google Translate.)



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

"Something Far Better"

Before being bombarded with memes and somecards and man-atop-mountain philosophical posters out of the yin-yang, I had a voracious appetite for books on quotations and inspirational anecdotes. I still do. One such quote that has metamorphosed and found new life on an FB poster goes something like this: "God always gives us the best when we leave the choice to Him." Imagine my short-lived quandary, then, as I dithered between embracing this long-known gem and surrendering to the fact that it was now plastered all over a SoMe icon. I gave in, as I knew I would, and read it again. It was a reminder that in surrendering my desires to God, I should do just that. No back-tracking. Simply, trust that He knows what He's about and He has my best interest at heart.

The quote reminded me of a favourite inspirational story I read over ten years ago. As Christmas drew close, an older gentleman decided to order an item of clothing for himself using the store's catalogue. Beside each item, he realized that there was an option to check a box indicating his agreement to accept the store's replacement if they were out of his selection. He checked the box. As it turned out, the store was out of the item. And, sure enough, they sent him something else, along with a little note saying they hoped he would like the replacement.  As the gentleman opened the package, he realized that what they had sent was of a greater quality and value than his original choice. As he told it, they sent him "something far better" than what he had ordered. After that, he would do no less than check the box!

I've often thought of that story when things don't go the way I plan or think or want or work toward. After doing all I can, asking for God's guidance, I watch things go the way I'd hoped; didn't plan or better than hoped. There is no trick to this. If I believe that my life is in God's hands - and I do - then, for my mind to be at peace, I must rest assured that, however it works out, it is for my good. Now, that is much easier written than lived. But, I try. When I get yes, I'm glad. No? Not so much. I feel disappointed and I wonder and get forlorn (great word!). But, after a while, His word that's hidden in my heart that He's holding starts to ring in my ear. After a while, as the picture gets clearer, His no (and yes, too), make more sense. It mightn't make complete sense all the time but, sense enough.

I like to think that God really takes His time on some things because He is giving them special attention. It's like the thought that in the beginning - as in, the beginning beginning - for light and sea and land etc., He said, "Let there be..." But, for man, He reached down and took clay and shaped and formed him and breathed Himself into him and he became a living soul. How did I get here? Yes. So, He took His time. Just think of all those things that we have spent a long time asking Him for. He could have done it in two twos; could have had a "Let there be" moment. But, for those things that He has not said no to; that He would have us wait for, I believe He is giving them some special attention - reaching down and molding and fashioning and putting finishing touches on. His timing is perfect and He knows what He's about. We have our idea about what would be "really, really great!" His thoughts are higher. He's about something far better.


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

Changing Seasons and Crooked Paths

Someone reminded me some time ago that some people come into your life for a season. We've heard that before, right? In that moment, however, it was a timely reminder. I pulled myself together and quickly got out of the funk I had been wallowing in. My new-found perspective was to look back at the nice moments; chuckle again at the jokes; smile; nod; shake my head - all as I took away the good stuff and the good lessons learned.

Yes, I do believe that some people show up only for a while. If it were not so, we'd still be in touch with, or be friends with, everyone we'd ever met! So, they come and they go. They touch - and how! Some certainly make a deeper impression than others - good and bad. When you're experiencing the bad, it may seem like a lifetime. It just never ends! Or, so you think. More often than not, we do have the power to bring that season to an end; the power to change that season ourselves.  In some cases, it's not enough to say this or that will end soon. When it gets to hurting bad enough, you just have to do what you have to do.

True, there are cases in which we have little to no control over a situation. In such cases, we simply make the best of it, keep hope floating and keep working in the background, preparing for that opportunity that ushers a ready person into a new and glorious season.

When we're experiencing a good season, we want it to last and last. Truth is, a change from a good season doesn't necessarily mean that it's tilting toward bad. But, we might have it so good, we can hardly imagine it being better. A good season may change into a better season and, sometimes, it gets worse before it gets better. Sometimes. In those times, a little faith and a little patience go a long way.

So, a change for the better may mean someone coming into your life.  It may also mean someone leaving your life. It mightn't look like it, but, so it is. Hindsight is 20/20 and only then does it become clear that it was for your good. I've come to understand and accept that. (Hey, no loneliness feels as bad as being miserable hurts.) My hope in those cases is that I have touched their lives in positive ways. I've often prayed thanking God for the doors He opens and for the doors He closes. Years ago, I came upon a Bible verse - Isaiah 45:2, "I will go before thee, and  make the crooked places straight..." God does that for me. Even now, I am about to enter a new season - totally His design and favour!  On February 7 this year, for the first time, I "discovered" another in Ecclesiastes 7:13, "Consider the work of God: for who can make that straight, which He hath made crooked?"  And, although I'd often given thanks for the closed doors, the fact that He makes paths crooked intentionally, put so many things into perspective. He does that for me, too.


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

I'm Not “Back-to-Africa” Black

I’ve had this poem in mind for a few months now.  Recently, sis asked whether I’d yet penned it. So, in time for February’s first post – and, please don’t get me started on how I really feel about Black History Month – here is:

 I’m Not Back-to-Africa Black 

I'm not back-to-Africa Black 

Now and then I still hear talk of

“Black people going back to Africa”

But, in that event,

Who would help me pack?

Moving is not an easy somet'ing

I should know.

I've moved to and lived in and worked in 

Three different countries now.

A whole heap of arrangements would need to be made 

And, quite frankly,

To call a spade a spade

I am way too comfortable

To go through all that hassle.

Remember “Seven Miles of Black Star Liner”? 

Who took into consideration the amount a wi who 'fraid o' water?

And would probably suffer from sea and other sickness

On the way to wi Modda

Land. 

Then what?

Although things and times have changed

Maybe plenty still holding on to that dream.

More power to them. I mean that.

But, for me, that's not my scene.

If more of us were to be honest

When faced with the question?

From the comfort of our Diaspora homes

We would say no to repatriation.

Don’t it?

Some may argue that my not wanting to go back is backward

That's okay.

No point in trying to convince them it's my choice

It's not up for discussion, anyway.

But, let me pretend for a second

That I were at all up for the journey

That I were at a crossroads

And someone was there to usher me.

I take it we'd be flying in

With people at the airport to meet wi.

My preference 

For residence

Would be Kenya

Near my son, Thoya.

If not, then west, in Ghana

Some friends from there 

Used to say they know somebody 

Who I fava.

And then I met their friends and

After the pre-amble 

They too told me that they knew people I resemble.

My response was always, 

"I have that kinda face."

Apparently, I'd fit right in – if for nothing else but like-countenance.

I wouldn't necessarily feel outta place.

But, I'd jolly well have more than

Like-countenance going on

What exactly would I be doing on the continent in this year of our Lord?

Would I be expecting "Mama" Africa

To take me under her wings?

Would she owe me anything?

Or, would I be expected to "bring back” something?

Would she even recognize me 

The offspring of those that left?

Beyond my look-a-likeness and skin colour

Would I be too bereft

Of pertinent sensibilities and a certain sense of self

Having only an idea of Blackness

To which I am supposed to properly relate?

But, having not had the “appropriate” experiences –

African American and such –

Just can’t?

Africa of yesteryear is, in many ways, no longer.

And, not if, but when,

She realizes I don't quite fit in

Like her other children

What then?

For both our sakes I'd have to seriously consider

Packing 

Again 

Relocating

Again

Back to the Diaspora.

Kraasiz!

(By the way, friends’ pictures of Ghana

Look like places in Jamaica

The… Step-Motherland?)

I’ve been influenced and shaped

By myriad frames of reference

Raised by parents – and the village

Standing on the shoulders of those strong enough to stand tall – 

And, even those whose backs bent a little –  

Under pressure.

To whom much has been given

Much is expected.

I don’t have to go back

To give back.

I am not back-to-Africa Black.

I am here

And, thanks to modern technology

Geography is now history.

Born in Jamaica

Living in Canada

Relating to my son in Kenya –

Kijiwetanga.

Blessed by the Almighty. Jah.

Selah.

-Dnafcnatgada

www.cyopro.com

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Working at Relaxing

For those of us who are constantly on the go; the ones who are always working, working, working - for real, that is - it takes that much longer to unwind. Am I right or am I right? I told my friend Debbie that I am trying to "sit still" while on vacation. She didn't miss a beat in telling me that "they'd have to tie you down." Lol!

Reluctantly, but knowingly, I had to agree with her. It just takes a while to bring my thoughts to slow motion; to a pace where I can take a second look at each one and decide whether to entertain it. More often than not, even when I do not have the time, I milk a thought to its logical or illogical end. And, most of those times, it's about solving a problem. Imagine, then, when I have several problems on the go!

I use the word "problems" loosely. Simply, a situation that needs to be addressed and which presents more than one option. Because, that's essentially what they all come down to. The thing is, sometimes it's a matter of not liking the better or right solution. Usually, the better or right solution comes packaged with a longer waiting period; higher cost; more work/effort and so on. But, it is what it is. And, kicking and screaming or going gently into that good night, we eventually have to make a decision.

Being on vacation of course does not mean being away from situations that require clarity of thought, good judgement and workable solutions. But, thankfully, the day-to-day is different - mostly for the better. It offers a prolonged moment of not having to deal with the stress of work and commuting and the like. "Time away" is usually time spent - or, invested, if you like - with family and/or friends. If you do get away from it (and them) all, and, if you're "tight like that", you may find that your mind is constantly on it (and them), anyway. Ever get that?

I've been working at relaxing and trying to convince myself that it's okay, (no, really), not to have the answer for a million and one things; that no one really expects me to and I can de-clutter that space in my mind that stores answers for the just-in-case questions and situations. (As if you don't do that, too!) Nature abhors a vacuum, though. So, what do I do with the new space I eke out? Well, vacation-type stuff may arise. On the stress metre, those are at a manageable level. Outside of that, hardly anything else is of concern. Of course, there's always time for writing. I'm either thinking of writing or #amwriting. The biggest "problem" that presents is something along the lines of deciding what to title a blog post. ;-)

And that level of relaxation is okay. It's okay. No, really.



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