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Sometimes a lone voice in a crowd is not really a lone voice. On those occasions, we may need to stop and listen to find out we aren’t the only out there and to realize we are only alone if we chose to be.
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I don’t consider defiance a great character trait. In fact, I’d probably remove it from the list of my character traits, given the chance. Not that I think that’s wise, but because I’m embarrassed this trait is part of my personality.
Let me tell you a story. As a woman who has had to relate to defiance as a visitor – well, even a squatter, on this occasion, it did very well by me.
My father was a brilliant surgeon. He was also an alcoholic, which cost him his medical practice and the ability to relate to his eight children. In the last couple of decades of his life, he would drink himself into a coma about every 18 months. He’d be whisked off to the hospital and – probably through some very odd mix of luck, medicine, divine intervention, and a will to live (I did say an ‘odd mix’) – he would pull through.
These occurrences were not something his way grown children were told about. It was done in secrecy – with the exception of one son who would be called to help get him to the hospital – no ambulance – what might the neighbors think? Sometime after Dad would come home from the hospital – whispers would begin to circulate through the family. By the time several months had passed, we might all know about it.
Then there was a change in the pattern. We were told shortly after he was admitted. But, we were not to go see him, to call him or to in any way acknowledge where he was.
This is where defiance came to visit me, again. Alcoholism may have robbed me of a father, but it didn’t rob me of my love for him. I was incensed we were being told we weren’t allowed to visit him. We ranged in age from 35 (me) to 45. Certainly, we were capable of making some mature decisions. And I am a firm believer in the healing power of love and honesty. It’s so often what we hide that puts us in harm’s way, while acknowledgement may very well free us.
Photo Credit: Alan Hudson Photography
I went to see my dad. I was shaking in my boots. I knew I was breaking family rules and though I was doing it to challenge the absurdity of this situation, not just for myself, but for all of my brothers and sisters, there might well be no one who would support me. I didn’t call ahead. I just showed up, late one morning hoping to find him resting in bed. But I found him sitting on a commode. [click to continue reading…]
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When we adopted our oldest son from Kazakhstan in 2001, he was just a few months shy of his 4th birthday. He had spent all of his days since birth in the orphanage, and in those years he had never owned a thing. Not a book. Not a toy. Not even a stitch of clothing. Everything that he touched was communal property. The best coats, pants, socks, and shoes were claimed by those children who woke up early enough to grab them first. And toys were rare commodities that were fought over during the day and then put away, out of reach in cabinets at night.
One day when we came to visit him in the orphanage, we saw that he had something clutched tightly in his palm. His hand was squeezed so tightly around it, his knuckles were white. When we asked if we could see what he had, he shook his head “No,” and shoved his hand deep into his pocket. What treasure, we wondered, did he have hidden away in his palm? What precious toy had he managed to remove from his living quarters? What did he have that was so important to him that he could not imagine relinquishing?
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"New Orleans at Dawn" is an 8x10 oil canvas that captures energies collected on my first visit to the historic city on the banks of the Mississippi River.The year was 1972; the beginning of my Sam Cooke’s, “I Know a Change is Gonna Come,” moments. I arrived with my five month old daughter strapped to my back two weeks before Mahalia Jackson’s body arrived for burial. Although it was bitterly cold, it didn’t stop the round the clock celebration of life for the greatest gospel singer of all time. The death of Miss Jackson allowed me to take shelter with the masses from the grief of learning of my own grandmother’s death.... read more...
New Orleans at Dawn by Gale Madyn
Dear James,
There is a place, a space outside of this dark abyss that is speaking to you and offering you a hand. Neither one of us is religious so you know I am not speaking of some dogma based savior. I am speaking of hope, what can be, where this strength you get from your now greets your future and bends it to the possibilities that await you. You cannot see this now, I know. And I am asking you to trust this, this truth. ...read more...
I was talking to a piano student yesterday about practice. Although this is a typical subject frequently and repetitively discussed in piano lessons, this conversation with an adult student was different. She diligently practices. Everyday she goes through her lesson assignments at a certain time, spending at least the suggested amount of time on each component. In spite of her practice regimen, she was not improving; in fact, some techniques and difficult passages in her music were regressing.
How could this be? The answer lies in the idea of practice. In music, as well as other behaviors, habits, interests in life, we are continually practicing. I use and explain this concept when I teach. ...read more
Months ago I stumbled across an organization on Facebook whose mission statement intrigued me. Common Ground News Service wrote it 'works to resolve conflicts by publishing articles that promote mutual understanding, opportunities for dialogue, and constructive criticism.' This enlightened approach made my heart skip beats! I immediately immersed myself in the articles on its wall....(more)
Everywhere you look, all over this country, we are implementing “Zero tolerance” polices for bullying and/or intolerance. Yet the policies are being implemented and ignored. People advocate them and criticize them, demand them and reject them. But “Zero tolerance” can work and does work. Why, then, are there so many examples of it not working?
The other day I was telling my teenage daughter how odd it is (if you think about it -- which I do) that if you are having trouble with some object -- let's say a cell phone that loses it's signal -- it's considered completely normal, perfectly reasonable behavior to curse that object and treat it roughly. You might say something like "You @%&** piece of junk! Why are you doing this to me?!" You might slam it down and push it away from you in disgust. On the other hand, if you were to do the opposite -- thank the object, cradle it lovingly, and appreciate it every time it worked -- well, then people would think you were a complete lunatic. If you overheard a co-worker at their desk saying, "Good morning, dear pen. Thank you for flowing with ink every time I need to write something. I really appreciate you. I can always rely on you," you would think that person had gone completely round the bend. But if you heard that same person muttering obscenities at their slow computer, you would feel that they were just acting as any normal, sane person would if their computer were failing them at a critical moment.click to read more
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On a clear, blue-sky, blue-sea day in Florida, my father and I sat in matching deck chairs overlooking an inland waterway. The early morning calm, the sea taste in the air and the sun’s gentle touch seemed to create an alchemical magic that primed us for an intriguing exchange. 'Hey, Dad,' I said unceremoniously, 'what do you think I’m going to do with my life? I mean, what could I really be good at?' Even as the words escaped my mouth, my mind became entangled with doubt and insecurity.
'The thing you will do better than everyone else,' Dad began, 'is the thing that will come to you so naturally, so easily,' he continued, with a casual flip of his hand, 'that you will write it off as valueless.'
I swiveled to look at him. My brain cued to full attention.....(more)
Studies show that when something is learned by someone once, it is easier for somebody else to learn it again later!
For example, in experiments, untrained rats must learn how to run or swim a maze to get to their food. And that takes them time and experience before they get it right.
But… if the maze has already been learned by many earlier generations of rats from the same strain, the rats learn the maze almost immediately. In fact, in some cases, they’re BORN knowing it and can run it perfectly from birth. Just because a previous generation(s) learned it before them.
If you’ve got no previous ancestors who already did it, you’ve got NO SHORT-CUTS TO FOOD.
This would definitely make me wish for better ancestors.(more)
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