Black and white, shadow and light…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In honor of Dr. King and his day, as well as all those who worked and still work for the ideals he held dear – I am posting this again. My favorite quote and a story that shows how much things have changed…

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

~ Martin Luther King, Jr. ~

 

I made a new friend the other night – several, actually, but there is one special one I want to tell you about.  Miss A is five years old.  Five and a half, to be precise.  She is the daughter of a man honored by an organization I am proud to be a part of – I’ll write about that part some other time.  This is all about her and what I learned from a petite force of nature, all decked out in a teal  party dress and riding boots.

I met her early in the evening, before the dinner in the huge event space and the concert that followed, held in one of Washington’s largest public gathering places.  All of it to honor a handful of ordinary people whose lives have been touched by really difficult events.  People who have taken their darkest times and turned them around.  They have all found a way to use their pain for good, their dark for light.  Her father and his childhood friend were among the honorees.  They shared their story of how a simple gesture of friendship during the early days of school desegregation in Dallas changed the course of their lives and touched many others.

Before things got started, as the grownups mingled and chatted, Miss A and I checked things out.  We stood on the small stage, looked into the bright light shining on the podium, wondered how the red and green lightbulbs in the uplights magically transform into soft white beams against the backdrop.  She showed both great composure and childish delight as we met guests and dignitaries, shook hands and took in all the beautiful dresses and jewelry.  She was having a ball.

As the dinner program began, I returned Miss A to her parents, a table or two away from my own seat just in front of the small stage.  As I presented an award to the first of the night’s honorees, I smiled directly into that bright light, and winked at Miss A, letting her know that I saw her, even as I spoke my serious words and shared a story that might be beyond her comprehension.  As I returned to my table, she smiled broadly and beamed at me, and I thought about the memories she would have of this evening, and hoped I had made it fun for her.  I knew that she had a long night ahead – long for anyone, much less a five year old!

A little later, it was her father’s turn to be feted with his friend.  I looked over at his daughter and saw her return my gaze as she jockeyed for position, trying to find a way to see her father clearly.  Before I knew it, she was on my lap, beaming and waving at her daddy from the front row.  I could tell she was already a little bored and thought that she was not really listening to the introduction, as she played with my earrings and necklace, rearranging them for me.  I was wrong.  Those beautiful almond shaped eyes looked up at me, quite suddenly, and she whispered in my ear – a series of questions, one after another.  ”Why did Daddy have to fight his way off the bus?”  ”Why was Mike the only one to talk to him?”  ”Why did people say those things?”

There I was, with a virtual stranger’s daughter on my lap, a child whose skin happens to be much darker than my own, a very young mind with such very big questions.  To not answer her would be to play it safe.  To stay quiet would be what most would deem wise, but I would see as cowardly.  I knew her parents well enough to know that we shared the belief that all people deserve to be seen and treated as the incredible beings that they are, regardless of race, economics or social standing.  I knew that, in the little time they had been in Washington, they had spent time at the new Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial with their daughter and that given that we were all the same age, their memories of him would be similar to mine.  More than that, I knew that they were lovely people who would trust me to answer Miss A’s questions.

And so I did.  I whispered back, not worrying about what others heard or thought, that it was a long, long time ago.  That the children at the elementary school had been taught this by their parents, who didn’t know better.  That it wasn’t the children’s idea – it was that they had incorrect information.  I took a deep breath and said that people used to think that if you were black, you were not the same as white people and that mostly, they were afraid of anyone who looked different.   That they were wrong, of course.  Of course.  That we all have the same hearts inside and that her daddy helps people to know that every day.  That Daddy and his friend had taught a whole lot of people to see that we are all the same and that’s why they were getting this award.  That it was important work.  That it takes all of us to do this work – just like Dr. King had spent his life doing, for all of us.

She was quiet for a minute, and I held my breath, hoping I had said something that would  begin to answer the questions.  She looked directly into my eyes and gave me a huge hug, squeezing me tight.  And then she said, softly, “I do that, too”.  I squeezed her back and told her that she was right.

I don’t know what she will remember of that night, as she grows and goes out into the world.  There will always be black and white, shadow and light.  I hope that our short time together helps, that she knows that the old lady at the big party in Washington loves her and sees her for the wonder that she is.  And if I could say one more thing to her, it would be this…

 

One day – soon, I hope – Miss A, I hope that everyone sees through your beautiful eyes.  I hope that all the colors blend.  I hope that you will shine your light into the dark and continue the work until, like you, no one understands why it would be any other way.

Finding our own songs…

When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

~ Alan Cohen ~

I woke up this morning in the middle of an extraordinary dream. I was searching and searching for something
in these multicolored mountains made of all sorts of stuff stacked upon each other and tied together with quite an
assortment of ribbons and straps. Eventually, I got to one little mound that was made up of many, many cylinders –
the kind that player pianos and organs use. I don’t know if you will even know what I am talking about, and I
thought I might have a picture from our visit to one of the two existing player organs in Carmelo, Uruguay, but I don’t,
so I’ll try to explain.

The metal cylinders are about a foot long and maybe four inches in diameter. Each one is marked with tiny holes and protrusions
in row after row, and when they are played, they each have their own distinct song. The sound is nothing like any
track on iTunes, and I would recognize it anywhere, so I knew exactly what they were in the dream. I found mine and
rushed back to another place – maybe my home? – with this precious piece of music, so excited to have discovered it.

I looked in my own stash of stuff for some time – the tinny music playing in the background the whole time, many songs playing
against each other so that it was hard to concentrate. Eventually I came upon what I was looking for and the device resembled
a manual push lawn mower more than anything. I’m pretty sure that’s what it was, but somehow I knew to attach the cylinder to
the bar in the front – the part that would normally contain the blades. I love these dreams, where I watch myself and wonder what
the heck is going on. It always seems to make sense, in a weird way.

So there I was, on a hilltop, with my mower/musical instrument. I took a series of huge deep breaths, looking out over the surrounding
peaks and hills and valleys and plains – all very Peter Max-esque – and off I went, pushing and playing my own song as I strolled along,
taking in all the beauty around me, leaving more beauty behind me.

Maybe this is the result of all of the soul searching and creative work I’ve done this summer. Maybe it has something to do with an earthquake
and a hurricane arriving at my doorstep in one week. I don’t really care where it came from. I know what it means.

This is what we are here for. We are here to find our song, our calling, our real name. And if we can find the courage and the strength,
we play it out in the world.

Imagine what the world would gain, if we were all able to give up the shoulds and the have tos and the idea that we
all have to fit in little boxes that have nothing to do with who we are. Imagine what could be, if we all lived our lives according to the song we
know plays somewhere inside our hearts. We’ll never find out, if we don’t try.

I’m up for it. Are you?

When life rains down…

You turn your head – that’s what the silence meant:

you’re not alone.

The whole wide world pours down.

~ William Stafford ~

Sometimes, (and today was definitely one of those days) it feels like the world is, indeed, pouring down.

Sometimes, it can feel like being pelted. Every time you turn around, there is yet another thing to be done,
another task added to the list, another call to answer. It can get to be a bit much, you know? And on those days,
like a drought dried piece of earth, it all seems to bounce off, ricocheting this way and that. Nothing much gets
accomplished, or maybe you do cross the items off the list, but nothing really sinks it.

Sometimes, though, it can feel like a gentle rain. A lot can happen, you can be assaulted by just as many things crying
for your attention, and the intensity of it can be a little overwhelming. On those days, though, there is just that split second in
which you can catch your breath, turn your attention, switch gears. And it somehow works. While you might feel the need to
come up for air, you are able to juggle just quickly enough and it all comes together. Each item on the list leads to the next and
there is a feeling of “I did it!” that rises at the end of the day.

I watched myself teeter between these two feelings today and tried to stay curious. How much is too much? How do I stay with the ride?
At what point do I start to spin off and enter the World of Overwhelm? And when do I need to ride the brake, just a little? It’s a tricky business,
this balance thing.

I’m so glad we are not alone on the ride.

What do I want…

 

I want love.  I want peace for my soul, first and foremost, and for all souls.  I want a way to bring that to people wherever I go.  Maybe I already do but I want to strengthen that, to make it a deliberate practice, to let that stream (my stream) flow always.  And consistently, reliably, without fail, no matter what else is going on in the world.  No matter what.  With ease, and with grace.  And with a great deal of love and compassion for myself, for others, for what is – in this space and time.

~ clg ~

something to think about…

Because really, that’s what it is all about.

All that is good and fair…

Finish every day and be done with it.

You have done what you could.

Some blunders and absurdities

no doubt crept in;

forget them as soon as you can.

Tomorrow is a new day;

begin it well and serenely

and with too high a spirit

to be cumbered with

your old nonsense.

This day is all that is

good and fair.

It is too dear,

with its hopes and invitations

to waste a moment on yesterdays.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~

Carry that forward…

“My great wish for all of you who have allowed me to honor my calling through this show is that you carry whatever you’re supposed to be doing, carry that forward and don’t waste any more time. Start embracing the life that is calling you and use your life to serve the world.”

~ Oprah Winfrey ~




I couldn’t have said it better myself. It is time, people, it is time.


My first give away! The deadline is Sunday, May 29th at midnight, EST. Help yourself and the residents of Joplin at the same time… In the spirit of the Help For Joplin Auction, I am donating a package of three coaching sessions ( a total of 3.5 hours and a $250 value, to be used in any configuration) with me, via phone, Skype or in person. If you would like to enter my first ever contest, please either comment below or send me an email at christa@carryitforward.com , with a brief statement of the reason you would like to be coached and the amount you are willing to donate for my services. One hundred percent of the winning bid will go to the Salvation Army, tied into the #Help4Joplin auction. The winner will be determined by some combination of amount donated, intent and a random drawing, if necessary.