Self-Care Series Part 1 – Journal/Write-It-Down!

Over the next several weeks I will be releasing a series of short blogs on self-care, based on many things that I do personally, and what I have observed in others. This will be a primer for a future self-care and life journey book to appear in 2016. Enjoy the journey!

This is the first blog in my Self-Care Series.

Journal/Write-It-Down!

Over the years I have been handed many journals from friends, family, and mentors encouraging me to write down my thoughts. Therapists have suggested journaling, and countless online and magazine self-help articles have sung the virtues of journaling. In high school my dad gave me a Kahlil Gibran themed journal that I poured my thoughts, dreams, and fears into. Yes, it was mainly stuff about girls, sports and music, but it was my space where on many days I was able to have a conversation with myself through the written word. I still have that journal, and often laugh at what I wrote, but at the time those were the most important expressions in the world to me. Each word I wrote was essential, and important to a young man whose world was changing every day, which often brought confusion, pain, and suffering.

I would continue to journal sporadically over the years, often mixed in with poems, story ideals, and political rants. A few years back my therapist encouraged me to buy a book called, The Artist Way, by Julia Cameron. I went out and bought it right after our session, and was immersed into the first few chapters within hours. The first lesson in the book was to start doing something she affectionately called “The Morning Pages”. The concept was instead of journaling at random times or not all, was to write as close as possible to awaking each morning. The goal is to write three pages each day in your journal. Subject and topic do not matter; you just get it out as you are at your rawest point of the day.

I have been journaling in this fashion for over 5 years, and it has been powerful. Journaling has improved my mood, provided a space for release, and helped to create more balance in my life. Friends that have picked up on this method also report the powerful nature of writing just as you rise. I journal typically somewhere in my house, and am accompanied by a class of water, and a cup of green tea. When traveling I have my journal, and green tea bags in tow. I start my day by facing and releasing the day before, and setting a course for each precious moment of the coming day.  

Regardless of how you choose to journal, journaling each day is a wonderful tool to address stress, anxiety, fear, and depression. It also creates a space to explore your hopes, dreams, and ambitions.

How to Start a Special Interest Group

A link to a article I wrote for ehow on how to start a special interest group.

http://www.ehow.com/how_8779170_start-special-interest-group.html

The Only Truth After 47 Years!

I finally arrived at 47 years of age on March 7th, the timing of which was not a mystery, but the arrival at times may have been doubt. It feels like a strange number, without the ceremonial significance of turning 50. No AARP card yet, but the reminders of my pending discount glory will start arriving in the mail and via email soon. However, it is significant because after 47 years I have come to discover that the only truth in life is love, in all its forms, not death and taxes.

Love of Self – The most powerful and often hardest to attain is the one form of love we must first manifest before connecting to all. I was luckily raised to embrace self-love, and though I have lost my way on this road many times, I always find my way back to my core that allows me to connect to all.

Love of and for Family, and Friends – Without the strength, wisdom, generosity, and support of my family and friends each valley would have been harder to cross, and each mountain more difficult to climb. We don’t walk this journey alone, and my family and friends have reminded me of this constantly.

Community and Environment – A love that each and every person has the opportunity to be all they can be, each moment of every day. The love that we all have the ability to live in a world that is safe, clean, and peaceful. This is what drives my “professional” life each day.

Love of My Kids – My kids, Miles and Yemaya, are my greatest source of joy, and at time fear. For I never stop thinking about their safety, and life outcomes, knowing how little of it is in my control. In the end, I know there are no other beings on this planet that I would sacrifice all to protect and make happy.

Of a Life Partner – The most elusive love in my life, but through trial and error I have found the path to this love. Somewhere in sharing your life with one person we are tied to a truth that is deep inside each of you, and transcends sight, touch, and sound. This wonderful union of love vibrates in your being, and can appear at any time on your journey, at any age. I have found this truth.

Our Universal Connection – This love is what ties me to all things and beings in this world, and beyond. The reality that we are all interconnected and interdependent on each other, and must treat each other with kindness, and compassion at all times.

And now I strive to live these truths every day, knowing some days I will struggle with some or all, but am always aware of loves constant presence in and around me.

Open Letter to My Son Miles, On Too Many Eves of Violence Against Black and Brown Boys

I somehow hoped you would be 18 or maybe 16 when I had to write this letter to you, but you are 10! After a long few years of explaining to you why Black boys are being killed by policy and neighbors, with no justice, 4, 6 or 8 years from now may be too late.  After more than a year of tears rolling down my face and questions whirling in your mind, yes, 4, 6 or 8 years from now may be too late!

I also thought this letter would be private, and in many ways it is, but in the end there are many other Black, Brown and other boys that need to read and hear these words.

In the past few years, if not during your entire young life, we have educated you to treat all people with kindness, compassion and respect, regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, income, orientation and any other way they may appear or choose to exist in this world.  Your compassionate soul is what I love most about you and there are things that can even erode that state of being. Our mindfulness and yoga practice is not just to ensure your spiritual peace, but to also guard you against the reactions that could one day prove to fateful.

I have also began to walk you through this countries ugly history with race and violence, in particular with African-American’s, Blacks, Coloreds, Negroes…  We have also discussed discrimination against people from Mexico, where your mother is from and the ugly backlash in this country against immigrants from Latin America.  It is ironic that this history exist in the land of liberty, since we are the backs that much of this country was built on. Free Black labor during slavery allowed for the growth of wealth in this country that is still supported by the exploitation of immigrants through immoral labor practices.

I watched your eyes and listened to your reaction as we watched, Eyes on the Prize and the Roots mini-series these last few years, as you declared the lack of fairness and cruelty inherent in these historic lessons. This began to show you the path of violence pointed at those of African descent in this country; from our dragging across the Atlantic in chains, through slavery, down the river of Jim Crow, up the mountain of segregation, through the alleys of ghettos and now firmly rooted in economic, social and psychological imprisonment. This imprisonment shows a brighter path to prison for young Black men than to college. It supports the development of the prison industrial complex that is keeping us in cages, while exploiting the labor of those incarcerated and reducing support for educational achievement.

Much of our society is built on violence and often maintained by violence. Many men and women serve bravely in our arm forces, as did two of your great-grandfathers in World War II, and many other family members. However, we continue to maintain the perceived security of our country through acts of violence that then permeates throughout our society. Unfortunately, the right to have a gun is more sacred than the right to love much too often in this country.

We are not immune to violence in our own family. Violence has run through our family. Our family has witnessed violence in all its forms. Some at the hands of others and some aimed at each other. It is not a pretty part of our history. The pressure cooker this society has created has seen murder, domestic violence, rape, war, suicide, prostitution, drug addiction, psychological challenges and others descend into our lives. As I stood delivering the eulogy last year at your great-grandmother’s funeral, I looked into the eyes of the many generations that sat before me. I saw not only our family’s ugly history, but also the ugly history of this country.  I thought as we said goodbye to our matriarch, how amazing it was for her to live 94 years, and touched a century of history, always striving to heal the pain and suffering of all that came after her.  In that room there were people that had fought each other, pointed guns at one another, sat behind prison walls and been committed to mental health institutions. I looked at your sister and you and as I observed your innocence, I hoped with all my being that neither of you would ever experience such pain.

These ills in our family, in our society are tied to the structures and systems that many cannot see and want to ignore.  They have created mental health and other challenges that have contributed to these acts of self-hatred and destruction. As I have done genealogical research on our family, which you have shown amazing interest, I have uncovered violence tied to slavery, Jim Crow and in the home. We are not and should not remain imprisoned by the systems of the past.

In the past few years as each shooting of young African-American men emerges, I always think of you and what it will be like for you as you enter the world as a young man. The killings without due justice for so many is painful, it makes me almost nostalgic for the “driving while Black” periods of my life, which have not completely withered away and lead to often to the apprehension Black and Brown men.

• Trayvon Martin -17
• Michael Brown - 18
• Tamir Rice - 12
• Andy Lopez – 13
• Countless others 

The recent killings and the subsequent lack of justice points to a society that truly does not value our lives and the makes the call for “Black Lives Matter” resound loudly in all corners of our great country. I often flashback to the many incidents that I had with police officers and others in powerful positions as a young man. Though in a few cases, I made mistakes, 99 percent of the time I was just a kid attempting to enjoy life.

You have unfortunately seen in person during our trips to Los Angeles how racial profiling works. After our last trip to Los Angeles, you mentioned to me that this was the first time in a while we did not get pulled over by the police. What I did not mention to you is that growing up in and around Los Angeles my friends and I accepted this reality as a part of our lives. We were always prepared to be pulled over and asked where we live and what we were doing in the community, though the officers often already new us.  In one six-month period when I was 18-19, I was pulled over at least 30 times by police.

On at least two occasions the officers that pulled me over, had guns drawn and with one false move I might have been on a list of young Black men killed. On many occasions, I was dragged from my car, not knowing whether I was going to live or die in that moment. Hands raised, heart racing, I knew that one flinch would leave me locked up, wounded or dead. This is something that has never left me. There is not a moment, even now, as I work in partnership with local law enforcement to make our communities a brighter, safer and more vibrant place to live that the appearance of a police car near me does not instill a sense of safety, it instills fear. Not knowing whether they see Charles the community leader and father or just another Black man that they don’t mind turning into a statistic.

I think of you at this time, whether you are in the car or not and that day we hand you your first set of car keys. I realize I have to start the lessons on how you must hold your hands and talk when police or other law enforcement officer approaches, where you can and cannot be and at what times, how you must dress to reduce suspicion, how you must potentially compromise you out of fear.

As a father you only want to protect your children and provide them with the tools needed to survive in an all too dangerous society. It does not matter if we are talking about the ills of gangs and drugs, which remnants still exist in our neighborhood or the option of moving to a suburb where the color of your skin may inspire someone to see you as a threat and react.

I also watch the news and see Brown babies that have escaped war and drugs and poverty in other countries, detained and sent back to places where their lives are threatened. They are not being given the same value in our society as others that have arrived on these shores from the claws of religious, economic, ethnic and other forms of persecution. I think about your mom’s families proud farm worker tradition that provided for a strong family and wonder what burden you carry being both Black and Brown and how you will choose to travel through our country when you represent two of the often most despised individuals on our society, Black and Brown Boys.

I don’t want you to carry this burden that is why we raise you with a strong sense of knowledge of your past and present conditions, while instilling you with pride and knowing your inherent value and beauty in this world. You are not the perceived problem you so intently listened to on public radio, as they discussed how Black and Brown boys are perceived in schools, you are the kind and caring young man that all praise each day. There is no need for you to carry this burden of Black and Brown in this society, and I will continue to fight with love in my heart and in as many places and spaces so that you and so many others do not have to carry this burden.  The progress and subsequent gains made by the presence of famous individuals like Martin Luther King Jr., Maya Angelou, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, James Baldwin, Cesar Chavez and Barack Obama are so much more important in our lives, than the itchy trigger fingers and swinging batons of the Bull Connor’s of the world.

But in the end the optimist in me sees a different fate for you, one not wrapped in violence and hate, but one bundled with strength and love. One where the teachings of compassion that our family never strays far from, even in the darkest moments, will continue to guide your life as you successfully navigate the many challenges this society may have in store from you. In the end, you are my beautiful, brilliant, compassionate and loving son who deserves to and will live a life full of light and face each challenge with love. As history has taught us, hatred and violence never achieves anything and in all spaces I hope you walk down a path of love and compassion.  For no enemy has ever made a friend through hate.

Love,

Daddy

Charles L. Mason, Jr.

Leader

A little inspiration on MLK Day!

"You are the leader this world needs. If your primary intention is to be present with your world, be compassionate with others, and be a force of positive change in the world, there is nothing holding you back. There is no one else that will clean up your life and make you happy. There is no one else who will be able to effect true change in your neighborhood like you can. There is nobody else who will offer your heart to the world and experience its sacred qualities but you. You can make a difference in this world, so long as you have confidence in your innate ability to love."

-Lodro Rinzler, "The Buddha Walks Into A Bar: A Guide To Life For A New Generation"

Time

Spend time with love.
Spend time with joy.
Spend time with compassion.
Spend time with peace.

No more laying with hate and fear and anger and pain.

-Charles L. Mason, Jr.

Love Is!?

Love Is?!

Love!

Love is what fuels.

It is that burning inside that softly connects I to me;

               releasing me of fear and anger.

Love is what soothes my soul and lifts my spirit;

               when the war of pain and suffering arises.

Love is what me launches me a sail in the rivers of life;

               searching for your smile,

                              your touch,

                              your scent,

                              your tears.

Love is what I give to you,

               because, with

               one smile full of light

you illuminated me, with love for a million

lifetimes.

- Charles L. Mason, Jr.

Confronting Self

I reflect today on a beautiful and amazing passage in the book, Memories of My Melancholy Whores, by Gabriel GarcÍa Márquez.  I am still reading this the first of his books for me to read. I was drawn to it by the great title and the fascination to hear the story of a 90 year old man unfold. The passage reminded of how so often we escape from our inner-self or our true-self for much of our lives and all the illusions and veils we place over our lives, we always stand naked to everyone else. A reminder to seek our true selves with each breath, each day, since we all will not be awarded the luxury that this fictional character was awarded at the age of 90, the ability to find the true meaning love.

Reading the passage will provide much greater insight than anything I can write to introduce it.

“Thanks to her I confronted my inner self for the first time as my ninetieth year went by. I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind but just the opposite: a completed system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature. I discovered that I am not disciplined out of virtue but as a reaction to my negligence, that I appear generous in order to conceal my meanness, that I pass myself off as prudent because I am evil-minded, that I am conciliatory in order not to succumb to my repressed rage, that I am punctual only to hide how little I care about other people’s time. I leaned, in short, that love is not a condition of the spirit but a sign of the zodiac.”

"Appreciate yourself and honor your soul."

-Anonymous

 

Blossom

"Patience with thy soul, for it is blossoming one breath at a time."

- Charles L. Mason, Jr. - 2014

 

Friendliness!@#!@%

Back in the summer of 2013 the Conde Nast Traveler published their list of the un-friendliest cities in the United States.[1] Unfortunately, my current and a few of my former home cities were well represented.  The City of Sacramento was number 10 on the list, which did not surprise me, but saddened me all the same.

Well, since then I have been literally “running” an experiment on the friendly levels of my fellow Sacramentan's.  The morning after I read the Conde Naste article I went on one of my weekend runs along the American River Parkway, where I had always noticed how few people waved or said hello.  I made it a point that day and many others since to deliberately wave to at least 90% of the runners and walkers.

Here are a few observations.  I remind you that these are rough calculations:

• If I don’t wave it is an 80 percent chance they will not waive or say hello.
• People over 40 wave at higher rates than those under 40 and waiving and hello’s increase with age.
• Waving at others and them waving back or saying hello or other encouraging works motivates me on my run.
• Most walkers will wave.
• Women under 35 wave the least.
• More people wave or say hi or other comments when my 9-year old son is running with me.
• 90 percent of people wave, if I wave first; regardless of race, age or gender.
• My favorite is the 70-year (this is a guess) old woman who always says hello and motivates my son while telling stories of her father starting her to running at 7, the age my son started. I see her most Saturday’s and Sunday’s with her dog and cane.
• My last outing was made easier by the much older gentleman walking vigorously past me each way yelled, “Good Work!”

I also did observations in other cities I visited since the start of this experiment.

• Several trips to 2 of my former homes, Oakland (#2 on the list) and Los Angeles/Long Beach (#6 on the list) did not yield better results. Runs in Oakland around Lake Merritt yielded few waves on the weekends.  This may be due to the large number of people out; a few more waives came if my run was during the work week.
• Los Angeles/Long Beach was not good for waves at all. Even if I waved to them, I would not get more than 50% of people waving.
• In February, I was in Denver and ran long their downtown creek. People were awesome and almost everybody waved or said hello before I could get my hand up. I was mostly struggling with adjusting to the altitude.

In the end friendliness starts with the self. Yes, different demographics and locations may have their friendly-challenges; however, if we show kindness to others it tends to come back many times over.

---

[1] http://www.cntraveler.com/daily-traveler/2013/07/travel-us-cities-charleston-newark-branson-friendly-unfriendly_slideshow_item0_1

 

Holidays and Family History

On this day of giving thanks, when many of us are surrounded by family and friends, it is a perfect opportunity to learn more about your families. Over the next 5 weeks, we will see many family members and what better time than to check into your genealogy and start building your family tree.

In the last few months, I ramped up my efforts to build my family tree.  It started with revisiting the tree I had started a few years ago on www.Ancestry.com, which was poorly populated and mainly restricted by me not asking family members questions and having them start asking questions and reviewing the many hints that Ancestry.com leaves you as you populate your tree. 

I started of course with quizzing my parents and started organizing my notes online.  Each day I worked on my tree, I would find new family members, solve family “secrets” and as of now track my family back to the late 1700’s in a few cases, something that is not easy with African-American families.  My journey has taken a course through California and Detroit, Michigan, and through a lot of Alabama and into Georgia.  In recent days we have found ourselves virtually traveling to Mississippi and North Carolina.  There is also a line in the family that is taking us back through New Orleans to France and one that is inevitably headed to Ireland.  Most importantly I have had a ball talking to my Mom and Dad and other family members as I fill in the gaps in our family tree. 

I also finally pulled the trigger and ordered a DNA test.  As an African-American, it was practically impossible until DNA testing became affordable to trace the exact regions and countries of the world that you were descendent from because of the lost history tied to the “peculiar” institution of slavery.  I often balked at the cost or just talked myself out of it, but in September I ordered the test and in late October I received the results.  For the first time in my life I can tell someone specifically what regions of the world my family was from.  The funniest experience came when my 9 year old son, Miles looked at the results and saw that we had European ancestry and with a look of exasperation asked, “I’m white?!”  I told him yes partly.

The common myth that we were part Native America was busted, as my results showed no traces to Native/Indigenous Americans.  No direct link to East Africa, as had been rumored.  However, the results did show that my ancestry was primarily Western African (74 percent), not a surprise.   The results:

·        Mali – 14%

·        Cameroon/Congo – 13%

·        Nigeria – 13%

·        Ivory Coast/Ghana – 13%

·        African Southeastern Bantu – 12%

·        Benin-Togo – 7%

The majority of the rest of my ancestry was link to Europe (24%).

·        Ireland – 9%

·        Iberian Peninsula – 3%

·        Europe West – 3%

·        Europe East – 2%

·        Scandinavia – 2%

·        Finland/Northwest Russia – 1%

There is also 2% Central Asia that ties into the area of the -stans. 

The experience and journey continues.  I talk about my results and the building of the tree all the time. It is the subject of bar talk and pops up in staff meetings.  I have even found several 2^nd to 6^th cousins that I am making links with to fill out our family tree and share information that will help unravel some of our family mysteries.  It feels great to know where you come from and who you come from.  I spent all my life stuck in this mystery, thinking I was going to have to take an Alex Haley type journey in my retirement to solve it, while older family members passed always and memories were lost. 

This weekend I will talk to my 93 year old grandmother and tell her about what I found out about her mother’s family that she either never new, chose to forget or was never asked.  She will fill more gaps and tell many stories and yes we will get her DNA test these holidays to further tell our story.

I encourage all people, no matter what you know about your family history to do a DNA test; they are much cheaper and comprehensive these days.  It is a path not only to your history, but it opens up many opportunities to richly connect to family members known and unknown and maybe you might turn off the T.V. and put down the smart  phones for few hours and start filling in some trees and recording stories before your living historians leave this existence.

Yoga, Super Dude and Me

Many people know that I practice yoga at least a few times a week.  Well, likely more, since I am practicing often when I am not on my mat.  From the time he was born, I have introduced some aspect of yoga to my son, Miles.  At first it was a fun kid’s yoga game that we would play and he learned some of the more kid-friendly poses like the Cat-Cow sequence.   Later when he was pushing past the terrible 2’s and making his way to the ripe old ages of 4 and 5, I started teaching him breathing techniques to deal with anger and impulses.  Last year when he was 7 creeping towards 8 I enrolled him into a week-long yoga camp put on by Yoga Across America (http://www.yogaacrossamerica.org/drupal-7.0/) and he had a blast.  He tried my yoga class once around this time, but it was tough for him and he dropped out about half way through.  I was proud of him for making it that far, if he only knew how hard it was for me when I entered that studio for the first time.  Later in the year the studio I practice at added kids classes a few days a week, while parents poured and I do mean poured into the main studio to practice.  He loved it and he went several times.

Then…

This summer arrived and he turned to me one day and asked if he could come to my class again.  He wanted to spend more time with his dad and I was pretty committed to my trips to the studio.  Let me explain a bit to about where I practice yoga.  It is at Zuda Yoga (http://www.zudayoga.com/) in Sacramento.  Zuda teaches Power Vinyasa yoga.  This means that a bunch of Type A personalities pack into a room that is heated to 90 or so degrees and flow through a practice that includes many moves that build strength.  On my first visit to tour the studio a few years ago the lady at the desk said, “....this practice will get you cut, MMA guys practice here.”  Mind you I had spent the previous 6 months in a more gentle and restorative practice and was headed to a Ashram for a week upon hearing this news, but 10 days later there I was in the back of the room sweating out all the toxins in my body and observing which of my muscles I had never used or wanted to use.  I never drank so much water or created greater pools of water from my own flesh.

I turned to my then 8 year old son (he turned 9 in July) that day and said, “Okay.”  This would begin the summer’s journey of about 8 classes of yoga I would attend with my son. I was excited and a bit skeptical and pretty sure I was leading him to a pretty big life lesson.  This was true, but the biggest life lesson would be for me, not him.  As all parents know, it is hard for us to watch our kids do something and not want to assist or fix or make sure they do it right and follow instructions.  This is particularly true with Miles and I, his independent spirit has you keeping an eye on him at all times and this does not mix well with yoga.  Yoga is you on your mat, pushing through your crap or knowing when to back off or rest. 

Well…

At first this was not an option for Miles.  As we sat in the back corner that I occupy every time that I practice at Zuda.  Yes, I arrive 30 minutes before class to ensure that I sit in that same spot each time and have time to meditate.  My son would plop right next to me and we would begin the routine of filling our water bottles, and laying out our mats and grabbing our blocks.  I would meditate and he would go to the reception/shop area and talk with the friendly staff and other yogi’s as they came in and hide under the clothing racks.  Sometimes he would pop in to give me a kiss and then disappear back out front.  As practice would near, I would get nervous and start going out to get him back into the studio and on his mat.  I was mostly worried that he was disturbing someone or would try to skip out on class, but each time he would walk back in with me, partially complaining about the heat.

On the first day he was great, Miles made it all the way through, tried most of the poses and only left midway for a few minutes to go to the bathroom.  The bathroom break would become part of his routine and I would be filled with anxiety each time, until he returned to his mat and he returned each and every time.  The next 2-3 times would be more difficult, there was more complaining from him, more correction of his poses from me, more breaks on his mat from him, less pre-practice meditation from me.  I was struggling in my practice and was clearly focused on his mat, not mine.  What is a dad to do?  Here he was typically the only kid in the class and loved by the teachers, staff and other yogi’s.  They all ask about him every time I go to practice.  However, for me it was not enough and this is where the learning begins.

Through the last 6 classes he would attend with me, I begin to notice I was journaling in the morning before each class more and more about my relationship with my son and how I could be more patient with him, not yell so much, allow him more space to roam in the world.  So, I made a commitment to remain on my mat physically, mentally and spiritually and to let his practice be his own.  There was nothing easy in this proposition and I can say I never fully lived up to it, but I struggled through it each time.  I found that the more I focused on my practice and me, my heart opened up more, the kinder I was to him and the more space I gave him to explore his practice.  We always got along better after yoga class. Despite the struggles for him to complete each class, he always said he felt refreshed after class.  It also meant that we were headed home to change and find food and lots of it, since we were always really hungry afterwards.

These days I miss his presence in class and cannot wait for him to join me in December for a few classes during his break from school.  I am thankful that yoga has deepened and improved my relationship with my “Super Dude” son.  However, in the end the one that really grew was me.  I have grown as father, a yogi and a being, whose self and relationships have expanded with more kindness, patience, tolerance, compassion and love and all because my son wanted to do more things with me.

Marching Down Auburn Boulevard

This morning I drank from the mug I purchased at the King Center in Atlanta back in April during a trip to the National Brownfields Conference.  I remember as I left my hotel at the CNN Center and walked through Olympic Centennial Park and eventually onto Auburn Avenue, headed to the King Center, unaware what emotions would rise up in me during my final day stroll.

I was not surprised when not long after I left downtown and edged towards the freeway underpass that there would be signs of blight in the neighborhood, but was pleasantly met by the construction of the new trolley that would eventually link the Martin Luther King Historic Site to Centennial Park.  You could see the signs of change emerging along the way.  I accidentally found the site of Madam C.J. Walker’s shop, which stood across the street from a large community garden.  Around the corner was a bake shop called Sweet Auburn, where an African-American woman has toiled in her small shop generating bake goods, jams and syrups, since 1997, anticipating the revival of the once vibrant center of African-American life.  There was the headquarters of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and a mural of John Lewis on the side of a decaying building that screamed with hope.

As I stepped onto the grounds of the King Historic Site, I was greeted by the old and new Ebenezer Baptist Church’s and the immediate confusion of which way to turn.  I also remembered Nathan McCall’s book, “Them,” and realized I was in the gentrifying neighborhood depicted in the book, similar to my own adopted neighborhood in the Oak Park section of Sacramento.  It was at this moment that tears staged under my eyelids and would remain their through every step.  My body felt like spirits from the past were talking to me and I walked deliberately slow, as I observed each part structure.  The beautiful collection of roses in front of the National Historic Preservation building; the footsteps in the Civil Rights Walk of Fame, where I compared my feet to the likes of Desmond Tutu and Sidney Poitier.  I rejoiced at the statue depicting the movie’s Root’s “Behold” scene, smiling fondly of my recent viewing of the series with my 8 year old son.

My backpack continued to grow as I added souvenirs for my family and myself at each stop.  Finally, I stumbled upon the Reflecting Pool, where the bodies of Dr. King and his wife, Coretta Scott King are enshrined.  A young lady asked me if I would like her to take a picture of me in front of the pool, she was a recent transplant from my hometown of Los Angeles and was working at the King Center for Nonviolent Social Action.  It was there standing in front of their crypts and staring at the eternal flame that tears leaked under my glasses.  I found the connection to my current work and journey in life.  I could see through the portal of the Civil Rights Movement of our past to the our current struggles to address ongoing environmental, social, legal, food and other injustices that still permeate our society.

Most that walked around me seemed to be having similar revelations, we all smiled at each other softly, even in the museum exhibits that depicted the violence of the struggle, with soft tears in our eyes.  My journey back to the hotel and conference, in the increasingly hot sun, were simple steps in my modern athletic shoes, and paled in comparison to the hard, stubborn, leather business shoes that King, Lewis and many used to traverse roads, bridges, cities and towns.

The Arena and Basketball and the Community

In the past few months the City of Sacramento was able to secure the arena deal and the NBA’s approval to keep the Sacramento King’s in Sacramento. They waged a battle with the City of Seattle that was robbed of their team several years ago after an ownership change and at times with the electorate and other opposition in the City.  Mayor Kevin Johnson worked diligently on this venture and set in place an economic engine that will revitalize Downtown Sacramento and generate thousands of jobs.  As a 10-year resident of Sacramento, I fully realize the benefits of the arena and related development to the economic health of the City and region.  I have been fortunate to witness the boom of restaurants and bars in the Midtown/Downtown area in the last 10 years, which was sorely needed.  Also, as an advocate of infill-refill development, I hope to see the former vitality of the Downtown area return that was decimated by Urban Renewal, which displaced many residents, with no return on investment, with a disproportionate impact on low-income communities and communities of color.

As the development moves forward there are three key areas that I hope the City, new billionaire owners, Mayor Johnson and other influential parities prioritize:

• Community Benefits Agreements – The arena and related developments include community benefits agreements that includes a real and meaningful process where community needs are addressed, especially for surrounding neighborhoods and businesses, populations in the City and County that are at greatest risk and address environmental risk that may arise during the development process.  The developers and City should and must sit down with all interested parties to address these issues.  Included in these agreements:
• Local jobs to local people – Jobs during construction should prioritize local Sacramento residents and where skill gaps exists, job training should be put in place to increase opportunities for employment for low income individuals and individuals of color.  This should remain the same for jobs in the arena and surrounding economic development projects.
• Contractors/Business Opportunities – Prioritization should be given to local and minority contractors/business owners/entrepreneurs or fair partnerships that involve a diversity of groups to include all of the above.
• Affordable housing – Any development that includes housing should provide for 15-25% affordable housing, with some of that housing dedicated to workers who will work in the new or renewed developments.
• Green and Greenwise Sacramento – The Mayor through his Greenwise Sacramento initiative a few years back, touted making Sacramento the “Emerald Valley” of the United States.  There is not a greater opportunity than the arena and related development to prioritize creating an energy neutral arena and related projects.  In this time of climate disasters, rising utility cost and economic challenges, we must strive to build major projects that speak to our future and not just the current bottom line.  The Mayor has brought together an impressive group of billionaires and millionaires to Save the Kings, now it is time for Sacramento to truly emerge as the “Emerald Valley” of Sacramento and lead the way.  Many standards exist such as LEED Platinum, Built It Green, Living Building Challenge and others that point us to sustainable building, but also to sustainable environments, incorporating urban agriculture, reuse of materials, rain water capturing, green roofs and walls, recycled/reclaimed material and many other innovations in green and sustainable development.
• Future Efforts – The efforts to bring billionaire attention and investment into Sacramento from across the state, including the support of Senator Darrell Steinberg and others was an amazing rallying of the local, regional and statewide troops.  As we move forward and dream of Sacramento being an economical, socially equitable and environmental safe model for the country, if not the world, we cannot achieve these goals without ensuring that the most vulnerable in the region are benefitting from such dynamic investments. I lived in Washington, D.C. during the installation of the downtown arena that turned previously underserved areas, littered with drugs, prostitution and abandoned businesses and homes into million dollar homes and condos, while displacing the residents that suffered and struggled in those communities for years.  Sacramento has the chance now to focus that billionaire investment in our City to not only help our downtown core explode, but to also help to impact the Mayor’s native Oak Park and Del Paso Heights and West Sacramento and Meadowview and North Highlands and South Sacramento and all of the communities that could be transformed by the multi-million dollar investment that is going into the Arena Project, with a focus on lifting up current residents that love their communities and hope to stay in them for years to come.

An Arena, Downtown Development and community development for ALL Sacramentans can be achieved through a cooperative process that includes and involves all members and sectors of our community. I look forward to observing and participating in this local historic process.

Health Care, A Twinkie, Some Coke and a Dose of Pesticide

I have been thinking about last year’s decision by the U.S. Supreme Court and contrasting the debates against any form of universal health care with the discussions in the country about eating and other lifestyle choices that cost the country billions of dollars each year.[1]  Regardless of how you feel about health care reform, we should be concerned about the impact of fast food, junk food, pesticides and chemicals, genetically-modified food and other factors have on our health and well-being, which all impact our economy.

Should we not require individuals in society to have health care, with strong preventive requirements, if we are going to refuse to responsibly regulate what they consume?  Especially, since it will potentially impact their long-term health and cost dollars in premiums, emergency room visits and long-term care.  In addition, potential cost to our mental health, criminal justice and disability systems.

If we are going to support the proliferation of unhealthy choices in our society, bolstered by food infused with pesticides and genetic alteration that cause unhealthy and unwanted outcomes.  See, the early onset of puberty in young women throughout our society and especially in populations reliant on these unnatural choices.[2]

Many want to blame the rising cost of health care on recent immigrant populations in our county, but studies have shown that 1^st generation immigrants have equal or better health outcomes than their American counterparts.  We don’t see the negative consequences until subsequent generations.[3]

Obama Care may not be perfect, but neither are the food and beverage choices we consume and support in this country, in the name of economic profit for a few.  We defend the right to drink a Coke or eat a Twinkie as vigorously as we oppose having to pay for health care, unknowingly or oblivious to the impact our choices have on the cost of health care for our fellow American’s.  

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[1] http://www.fairfoodnetwork.org/connect/blog/obesity-and-rising-cost-healthcare-america

 

[2] http://thegrio.com/2013/02/12/hormones-in-food-may-lead-to-early-puberty/

 

[3] http://www.unnaturalcauses.org/

 

Ubuntu, Buddha and Me

This blog is a bit of a preview of beautiful things to come. The New Year is upon us and over the last few months I have been contemplating my next big writing assignment after I finish my collection of short stories in early 2012. On a recent trip, I was sitting in a meeting and a title and subject came to me. The setting of the book would be me, me the last few years as I have faced some of the most difficult times of my life, while also being given the most beautiful gifts of my journey thus far.

The title of my pending book will be Buddha, Ubuntu and Me, this may require me to self-publish, but that is not inconsistent with who I am. There are two streams of inspiration for the book. First, I did borrow the title of the book a bit from a family member. For many years my second cousin, Lynne Duke wrote for the Washington Post. Thought I don’t remember meeting her as a young child, since she was one of the few of my mom, Anice’s immediate family members that was not at the many of the large family gatherings. I lived in D.C. off and on for years and I had unknowingly been reading Lynne’s articles in the Post for a few years and one day mom asked if I had read any of her articles and I thought about it and finally made the connection. I was notorious for reading articles and focusing on the title and subject and not the author, especially since on most days I read most of the paper, wherever I was.

I began to send articles home occasionally or collect them to bring home with me during holiday trips or my many moves back and forth between CA and DC. Eventually, Lynne was assigned to follow Nelson Mandela and his presidency and was assigned to South Africa as the Post’s correspondent. I relished in reading her articles and still regret not taking the open family invite to come to South Africa and see it all. However, I would be introduced to the term Ubuntu and South African life through her words. At the end of her tenure in South Africa, she wrote a book, Mandela, Mobutu and Me. From here is where I have borrowed the rhythm of my title.

The other inspirations from my title are implicit in the words. First, Buddha, which alludes to my inspiration from Buddhist and Yogic traditions. Though not necessarily Buddhist, I do follow some practices from Buddhism, I meditate most days and practice yoga at least twice a week for the last several years. I have also been fascinated by both traditions and their interconnections since childhood. Many of these practices have been an important part of my re-discovery of myself.

The second word is Ubuntu, which is a South African term that has several transitions, but speaks to the common humanity of all people. Three years ago, while forming my non-profit organization, I struggled to name it for weeks and new that part of the name would have the word green it to symbolize our desire to green all communities, not just the affluent. I had for the past 10 years, periodically put the term Ubuntu on my email signature, using one of the many interwoven definitions. Of all the great quotes and statements I posted over the years, none ever received more positive feedback and inquiry than Ubuntu. After a final night of thinking in early 2009, Ubuntu Green was born and it is now my professional passion.

The third word in the title is Me. This was the hard one, because writing about me and not hiding it in a story or poem has been one of the hardest things for me to face. I feared what I would find and I feared the reaction of others that may feel threatened or hurt by the truth of my words. However, as I re-found me and the beauty of me and it became clear that part of my journey was to eventually write my story, without fear or pain or judgment.

My inspiration is now upon me and this blog is the first step in the drafting of Buddha, Ubuntu and Me. I am not sure it what it will inspire in the world, but this journey has inspired me to live a beautiful life where I give to myself, my family, my friends, my community, my world every day.

Happy Holidays!

Occupy

That last few days I have been observing the Occupy activities in Oakland, California http://www.occupyoakland.org/. I live in Sacramento, but thought it would be interesting to observe the City I lived in briefly before my move to Sacramento 9 years ago. It just so happens that the demonstration is across the street from where I worked back then and a few blocks from where I lived. The last large gathering I attended in Frank Ogawa Plaza (now renamed Oscar Grant Plaza by the community in honor of the Bay Area Rapid Transit police slain Grant on New Year’s Day 2009) was an Obama rally on St. Patrick’s Day 2007. The mood was much different that day Obama was the upstart, young Senator from Illinois, who was at best third in the polls at the time. John Edwards and Hillary Clinton were still the frontrunners, and very few were predicting an Obama victory. A few weeks before I had made my decision to support Obama and was glad that the work event that I was attending inside Oakland City Hall coincided with the rally. I stayed for a while, collected a few t-shirts and other memorabilia for myself and family, including my now well-worn green St. Patty’s Day Obama t-shirt that now gets some of the similar bad looks I receive 4 years ago from different people, a far cry from the cheers it received in late 2008 and 2009 when wearing the shirt and other Obama gear when running in Sacramento and whatever City I traveled to for work or pleasure. Obama was more like a folk hero and to some a revolutionary. The pending election results would break molds on how to conduct elections in the future and put a stark imprint on race relations in this country. The energy and optimism of that day can also be felt this weekend by the Occupy Oakland participants.

Despite the recent violent clashes with the police, the camp is amazingly peaceful and orderly. Yes, there is the free flowing scent of marijuana in corners of the camp or in nearby streets, a possible indirect protest aimed at marijuana legalization and the recent federal crackdown on medicinal marijuana laws established by the citizens of the State of California. However, you can see many efforts to address the public health concerns around the camping. Portable potties are set up on site, washing areas for hand and face sanitation are available, food is being purchased and donated to provide nutrition and special tents and areas have been set up to support young children. What are particularly interesting are the ongoing meetings that occur in circles around the Plaza. This morning I came across a Shambhala group that sat in silence on the steps of the amphitheater. Yesterday organized meditation and yoga classes could be witnessed. Many strategy sessions were occurring and discussions could be heard on many subjects. At one morning session, participants read from books and articles that inspired them to act. Though most of the occupy crew is younger, there are many older folks that are actively involved or observing or assisting in the success of the movement. Not surprising in this liberal enclave, by I am sure this is happening nationwide.

The Occupy Oakland community makes decisions by a vote of at least 90 percent of members. They recently agreed to organize a General Strike and Mass Day of Action. On November 2nd, they are asking that corporations and banks shut down or get marched on and welcome students to walk out of school. It will culminate with a march to the Port of Oakland, intent on shutting it down at 5:00 p.m. I eagerly anticipate the result of this.

In many ways, the Occupy movement stands in the face of the promise of Obama as President of the United States. The progressive, liberal promise, with a twinge of social revolution has been drowned by the fiscal crisis in this country, the rise of the Tea Party and the more moderate response from the Obama Administration. Many of the young people and minorities who voted for the first time in 2008, embracing the HOPE of Obama, now crowd parks and squares nationwide, pushing forward an agenda that calls for the end of corporate greed and control of our country. Obama obviously faces a hostile House of Representatives bent on his removal from office, in all his efforts to transform this country, and this cannot be overlooked as he takes criticism from the very folks that catapulted him into office.

I often look at the solution in all things, as we know the corporation and financial structure behind them are going nowhere fast, but we can implement laws and regulation that balance the playing field significantly more in this country. However, I am always inspired by the efforts of everyday Americans who have come up with innovative ways to transform society. I recently came across a Northern California non-profit founded by a young woman, Rebecca Burgess to source all of our clothing from fibers and dyes were produced within 150 miles from where she lived. This move directly provides economic, environmental and social impact in her community. The organization, Fibershed, http://www.fibershed.com/ has spawned a community of individuals dedicated to changing how they live and interact with each other. All protest to gain political and economic power, must be balanced by new solutions once victory is won.

As the Occupy Movement spreads throughout the world and builds sustainability, I hope that Wall Street, the Obama Administration, local government and others will find ways to work with these growing voices to transform our country in support of all Americans and not just the 1%. As we have bowed to the relatively small, but powerful Tea Party, we should open eyes and ears and listen to this more populist movement, propelled by our future.