Enough saving the world; time to clean house

I was inspired by the Unalaska blogs this morning.  We have sunshine, clear blue skies, and a lovely calm, windless day.  While this is the first day I have actually felt pretty good since arriving home from San Pedro, and I have sooooo much to do in terms of cleaning house and unpacking from the San Pedro trip, it is just too beautiful a day not to at least take a mini appreciation of it.

Rex diligently stalking the cat.  I said "no cat."  He stopped, and stayed perfectly still, not advancing toward the cat, but never taking his eyes off her.  Rex does not want to hurt the cat, he just loves to stalk her.  She tends to get a little bent out of shape over the game, however, she never runs from him.
"Hey, dude, leave me alone.  I was taking a nap in this sunshine!"
In numerous places in the yard, the jonquils are starting to emerge.  While someone who was here long before me planted most of them along the driveway, there is one spot in the yard where there are just random clumps of them.  Randy diligently mows around them for me each spring until they finish blooming.  I have actually transplanted some of them to more opportune places, but there are still quite a few in this location.  I am thinking perhaps someone once had a flower bed in that spot, as there is also evidence of some kind of root from a bush of some sort, long dead.
One of the transplanted clumps--these are usually the first to bloom.  Clearly, I need to clean out the flower bed from the winter.  Soon, butterflies will drink at this little water spot, the morning glories that go to seed will start to climb up the fence again, and the whole yard will be a profusion of yellow and white jonquils, and one or two of my irises will bloom.  The irises are the ones I brought from Texas that came from my Grandma's place.  One finally bloomed about the second year we were here, and last year, several bloomed.  I am hopeful one of these days that they all will again.

Maybe I really don't understand

Well, so much for principled stands.  I did it: I put my "money where my mouth was" and honored my conviction.  Then I find out that the whole big issue over which I am so concerned about that "bigger picture" and our narrow short-sited view?  The "other side" acquiesced and gave in to the narrow short-sited view and everyone is happy.  That is the story, at least.

Now, it isn't about my needing to be happy; frankly, I choose being happy most of the time, and I am not currently unhappy.  It reminds me of "Games people play" and when you feel confused suddenly, that's when you know you have been "switched on."  I just keep thinking about how there is a greater meaning in this than just the event itself, and I keep reaching for what that is under the issue.

In families, when we are doing family therapy, we try to look not at content, but at process.  What are the patterns in the communication?  It is not what is actually said, or what the issue is about, but the meaning that underlies that communication that is of concern.  I started trying to do that, and suddenly realized I did not care about the patterns; in this situation, I cared about the content.  

I give up.  I just need to make a phone call and tell someone thank you for changing my flat tire.  Let him figure out what that communication means. :)

Coming soon: "Not being from Mississippi is such a burden."

Reminds me of Alaska and how the assumption of some people is that if you are not native, you cannot know how to provide services to natives.  So, here we are in Mississippi, and yet again, since I am not from here, I apparently do not have the ability to look at the situation, make an assessment of the situation, and decide on an appropriate plan.  Apparently--in spite of my advanced training in the use of these techniques, as well as a long experience of what I would term reasonably successful work using those techniques and skills I have acquired (including in Alaska by the way)--my not being from here is limiting my ability to see the issue in the same way that native Mississippians see it--a hopeless repetition of the past that is not going to change unless we just bulldoze right through and damn the torpedos.  Once again, "You cannot convince someone of something with facts when the resistance is emotional."

I need to explore this topic in greater detail.  I feel a new research project coming on for my global south research.  Thanks, Mississippi dude.

On the Edge--Marching to a Different Beat--Whatever...

First, thanks to my little Libby for keeping me company this week while I have spent so much time in bed.  She loves it when I am in this room as she gets to come in all by herself and take a nap on the bed. 

It was great to see the sunshine finally today, and have a warmer day.  With no wind, it made it feel really nice.  I am also a little better today, so that also helps.  And the final good news, since I have been ill, I have lost over 10 pounds, so that was at least one good side effect.  I noted my belly was flatter today than it has been in a while, so decided to hop on the scales.  While I don't recommend this "plan" I must admit that coupled with my new focus of no sweets, limited breads and no wine, I appear to be losing some weight.

That was the only good news of the day, so to speak.  As is everyone, we are in cut the budget mode here, too.  I had to go in for a meeting regarding how we cut 5% from our budget.  That is not a pretty picture.  We lost our travel, some contractual services (provides our copying, telephone, and internet services), student worker funds, and facing another round in a few months.  That means salary reductions and/or position losses at that point, as there is nothing else of significance to cut.  But ever optimistic, we are at least glad we have jobs right now; so many folks don't, or don't have work that is meaningful and supports them.

Now, about that on the edge part--I find myself wondering why sometimes I seem to be the one who sees something differently than others.  I am involved with a professional group here, and it seems that I am often the one who is the "no" vote on issues.  I think I am a reasonable person, able to hear information about as objectively as possible, and then make a reasoned decision based on the whole picture, not just narrow self-interests.  I suppose a lot of that is from the constant use of systems thinking as a social worker.  I tend to want to look at all of the system, and its suprasystem and its subsystems.  When I hear what sounds like a rational and reasonable approach to an issue, even if it may not be in the selfish interests of me personally, or my profession, I hope that I am able to acknowledge the greater good and greater benefit to others, even if it means a sacrifice to myself.  

So, here I am again, the dissenting voice saying that the other approach is reasonable, rational, makes sense, and will benefit the greater good, and ultimately in the long run, our profession.  I feel like what is happening though is that the assenting voices are putting their hands over their eyes and ears and shouting "nananana" in order to avoid having to consider my point.  I feel like I am being patronized for having "such a thoughtful response" and yet no acknowledgement that it (1) makes sense, (2) anyone agrees or disagrees, or (3) wants to even discuss it.  It feels kind of like "don't you worry your pretty little head about learning how to change a flat tire, honey; some big ole trucker will always stop and help you."  I sometimes feel like the question(s) placed before this group of which I am a member are just formalities, and I wonder why I take it so seriously and feel the need to say, "hey, what about...?"  This is not the part about making other people wrong and trying to be right.  It really is about is this the best decision, and I don't think it is, so how do I support that?  Bottom line is, I cannot--it is far too important an issue this time.  In fact, if it goes as it has apparently been decided to go, then I will not only have to be a dissenting voice and say "no" on the vote, I will actually have to actively lobby against it, and find support for that other outcome that I think to be for the greater good.

The thought of that is not particularly pleasant; one does not usually engender friends when one goes against one's own professional group; the potential for backlash is present, at the least, some sense of ostracism.  But, perhaps I misjudge the others who may be able to see the issue more clearly rather than in narrow self-interest.  Perhaps I will gain new friends or new support from others who see it as being willing to step out of status quo.  That has happened to me before.  Of course, I don't do the work I do to make friends and be praised: I do the work I do because I think it is the right thing to do.  And, I think the right thing to do is consider the bigger picture here, and the numbers of people who will benefit from that approach as opposed to the limited number who will benefit from the narrow view.

All I know is when I go to bed at night and try to go to sleep, I want to know I have done the best I can for the greater good, the welfare of all of us, not just some of us.  I hope that will be enough tomorrow night when I try to go to sleep.

The Ultimate Reality Show

I know why Native Americans used visions to increase their understanding of the world and our role in it.  I have long used dreams and trance work to help understand things I need to know but cannot figure out at a conscious level.  Last night before I went to bed, I prayed:

• for relief from the pain in my head and ears that have been omnipresent for the past few days
• to be able to sleep for the first time in those same past few days without waking up with coughing spasms that feel like I am actually going to die from not getting a breath, or choking, and which feel like fire in my throat
• and for the obsessive thoughts that had been plaguing me all day about an issue to get resolved in my sub-conscious, without my having to continue to dwell on it

I had two new medications in addition to the others that I had been taking for what the doctor termed 'asthmatic bronchitis'  yesterday.  One of them is a long-acting inhaler, but which really jacks up your heart rate and I already have a problem with that and take medication to keep it down.  As I drifted off to sleep, I began to feel a somewhat calming sense.

In the middle of the night, I awoke, aware instantly that I had been sleeping for quite a while, and that I had not been coughing and could actually breathe, that there was no pain in my ears, or behind my eyes for the first time in days.  I was in sort of a trance, coming out of a dream, and I was fearful to move, lest I set off the coughing spasms again, yet I knew I wanted to understand the dream.

I would drift in and out of awareness--literally comprehending the meaning of some aspect of the dream--and then into the dream sequence again.  I was fearful I would forget it by morning and yet, reluctant to get up and disperse the pleasant cocoon of calm and serenity in which I was surrounded.

At some point, I came fully awake and got up to go to the bathroom, and to tell myself that I would remember it in all the needed detail this morning, and then went back to sleep, grateful for both the vision and the healing.

In the dream, it was life after death, and we were at the process where we get separated--the wheat from the chaff.  There were some portals, and some of us were walking toward them; I was not certain if I was to go through them or to the side of them.  On the other side I could see my ex-husband, with his wife and his children.  In that moment, I released any animosity I had toward him for not having wanted children with me when I so much wanted a baby, and then for marrying a woman with children and adopting her baby--a wound that although I reconciled it many many years ago, was clearly standing in my sub-conscious as a barrier of some sort.  I reached out to hug his youngest child, and to tell him that I loved him.  In the next moment, I was ushered through the portals and into the "room."

What would follow (in much abbreviated detail) is a series of what I would call "reality TV" scenes.  We were divided into teams and we each had different scenarios to play out.  The judge then ruled on our performance.  I kept ending up in the "next level" and able to stay in the competition, so to speak.  At the last scenario, it was a difficult thing for me to do.  It involved my having to do several menial tasks--like make coffee, light a burner and the matches kept going out, climbing into some dirty water to reach the shelf where things were, etc.  All the while, the "men" were just lounging in the boat near by and I was willingly performing these chores and then came the grand finale.  What I began to realize was that each of the scenes had to do with the person's willingness to be of service to others, not to himself or herself.

The waters began to be everywhere, not just in my scenario.  There were huge rafts though, and we could swim toward them and if someone reached a hand down, that meant we could climb in.  I swam toward it, and someone reached a hand.  I climbed in, and my task was now to reach my hand for others.  I did not understand, though, how I was to decide who got to climb in and who did not?  How was I supposed to know who was to be saved and who left to drown in the rising waters?  What was the criteria?  I started to reach toward someone, then suddenly shifted and pulled in someone else.  A white dog with puppies kept pulling her puppies up the little sand bank to the edge, pulling them out of harm's way while looking at me--I could not tell if it was asking for help, or choosing a deliberate path away from the boat.  Again, the awareness that the "saved" were those who had been willing to be of service and help to others not just meeting their own needs.

As I drifted in and out, trying to make sense of this dream, I had several awarenesses.  One was how I have been so judgmental of two people in my life--and that in my being so judgmental, I am doing the exact same thing I am upset with them about: judging.  The message of what I needed to do was clear: with the one, with whom I have an on-going professional relationship, to simply respond to the request without making him wrong about it; to the other, with whom I have no relationship, to just let it go and actually "get out" of his life and him out of mine.  As one of my mentors used to say, "don't hang out with people who don't support you" and I realized, why would I expose myself to something so toxic to me when I do not have to and it does nothing for me, other than enflame my need to set him straight?  I mean, let's face it: the world is filled with folks who likely need setting straight, and there is only one of me.  Perhaps I should save my energies for those things that really matter--oh, like with people with whom I do have a relationship, or those who clearly have a need to which I can respond?

I thought of something my other ex-husband said to me recently when we reconnected after 36 years:  "I am just trying to make sense of the world."  It was a reminder to me this morning of my belief that we all are ultimately trying to make sense of the world and to find our place in it: who are we, and with whom do we belong?  Along the way, there are opportunities; we accept some of them and we decline some of them; some of them we just put our hands over our ears and eyes while yelling 'nananananana' so we cannot hear it or see it.  Another of my favorite sayings, "You can not convince someone with facts when the resistance is emotional."  Maybe it is even a bit like the scripture about not casting your pearls before swine.  We have to make choices, but so do other people.

So, my messages were clear in the dream, and I awoke--head clear, able to breathe, minimal coughing, but without the horrid spasms and fire-in-the-throat, aware that I had received exactly what I had asked for.

First, I emailed my professional colleague to respond to his question, and to confirm what I could do.  Second, I made the choice to really let go of the other relationship as it is really not significant to my life and my mission in this world, and frankly and humblingly so, it is not significant to him either. :)

Perhaps it was all a medication-related interaction; perhaps it was an answer to my prayer; perhaps it was indeed my sub-conscious working out the details in my behalf.  Somehow, though, it restored my belief in the power I have to make right choices in my life, to do what I can when I can where it can make a difference, and to recognize again that I am not the policewoman of the universe and responsible for every misguided individual in the world.  After all, if I just take care of my own life, it appears to be a full-time job as it is taking me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for the last of my 58 years.

Life really is the ultimate reality show.

Garifuna History update

While working on my research today for the article on San Pedro child abuse prevention, I came across an interesting research article about the Garifuna "leaving and joining Africanness."  It was an extensive history of the Garifuna, which is--to be expected--significantly more detailed than the sketchy lesson I got while in San Pedro.  The particular research was addressing the cultural transformation of the Garifuna who have migrated to New York City from Central America, and how they are embracing their African roots where those remaining in Central America have not.

It is generally accepted, based on documentations of British, French, and Spanish explorers and missionaries that enslaved Africans who had been captured by Spanish slavers were destined for Caribbean labor and were shipwrecked off the coast of St. Vincent island in the Caribbean in 1635.  However, there is much subsequent documentation that suggests that the shipwreck story is insufficient to account for the large numbers of Africans and rapid black population growth that occurred on the island.  Other accounts support that the Island Caribs captured other African slaves and integrated them into the culture.  The island gained reputation as a "free island" as the Black Caribs surpassed the numbers of Island Caribs and essentially had control of the island.

There was actually a plurality of African cultures on the island, but even though they were free, there was the threat of enslavement and thus, the Garifuna "became Carib" and adopted the language, religion, and culture of the Island Caribs.  In 1797, they were captured by the British and forcibly deported to an island off the coast of the Honduras, near Trujillo.  They were saved from dire circumstances (probable starvation and death) by Spanish rescuing them and taking them to the mainland at Trujillo.  Already present at that site were the Miskito Indians and Afro-Indian 'Sambos' who were also reported to be slave shipwreck survivors, thus echoing the history of the Garifunas on St. Vincent.

The Garifunas began to migrate to other areas, and there is indication from oral histories conducted in the 1960s that many of them intermarried with non-Garifuna blacks.  The singer Andy Palacio (referenced in an earlier post) was credited with saving the Garifuna language through his music.  He died at the age of 47, and survivors listed include his sister, his children, and one brother.

Due to expanding fruit trade, many Garifuna began to leave the Honduras and what is known as Belize today for work in the United States.  The largest Garifuna community in the world is now in the Bronx area of New York City, with a population of about 100,000 people.  It is this group who--upon arriving in the US and "suddenly becoming black" began to embrace their African roots, explore those roots and connect with their origins in Africa as opposed to seeing St. Vincent as their home and Carib as their ethnicity.

This story reminded me of some of the dialogue going on in the Unalaska blogs about locals, loyalties, and how we see community.  Those Garifuna who have 'rejoined' the African diaspora after 'leaving' it back in 1635 when they "became" Carib want to re-educate the Central American Garifuna about the true origins of their people--which is Africa by numerous documented accounts, and frankly, since that is true for all of us at some point, rather a point against which one cannot successfully argue.  Some of the Garifuna remaining in Central America ask: "Who are you to try to change our memory of who we are?"  The Garifuna remaining are fiercely loyal to the culture as they have lived it--at least since the 1600s and 1700s when it was "invented."  They see themselves as quite distinct from the "Latin American" culture, even though they are all part of the Central American country, and in particular, Honduras and Belize where most of them live in small villages.

It is just another interesting story to me of the ways in which we define ourselves, with whom or what we identify, and--at least sometimes--wondering why we need to do what we do.  And on that way too serious note, I am going to struggle out of bed and go feed my 5 dogs and 1 cat, and hopefully, find something with which to nourish my self before crawling back in bed again and hoping I can make it through a research proposal, a faculty meeting, and a class tomorrow before coming home to hopefully get right back in this bed until I am well.

Notice how much "hope" I have in that last sentence.  Proof that I mastered the developmental stage of infancy and trust vs. mistrust, as I continue to have hope that my needs will be met and the world is a safe place. :)

First day of the spring semester & wishing I was in San Pedro

Today began the new semester at Ole Miss--as far as classes go.  I was at work all day yesterday in meetings and preparation.  I had my first class at 1 this afternoon for the social work practice with groups at the undergraduate level.  I am looking forward to it.  About half of the class are students whom I do not know, and about half are students I have had last summer in the Introduction to Social Work and Human Behavior classes.  I am trying new things in the group class this semester in terms of class projects, so that will be an exciting time as well.  We will be working again with the Job Corps program in Batesville, the Oxford Housing Authority, and in three new projects to be determined by each of the three groups in the class.  Each month, one group will be at Job Corps, one at OHA, and one in the new project.  Each group is always different, and this is my favorite class of all of the ones I ever get to teach.

Tonight was the first class for the MSW program and my first time to teach a graduate class at Ole Miss.  There are 12 students, and they are going through in a cohort, so they all know each other well.  I have had only one of them as a student, but have had contact with two of them in their former roles as field instructors or on our advisory board.  The class is practice with families and groups.  Tonight was primarily my getting to know them, their getting to know me, and going through the syllabus, discussing class expectations and projects and selecting groups for family and group work.  The size is perfect, the diversity of age and ethnicity and experience is a good mix, and I am really looking forward to this opportunity.  All of them work, have families, and a number of them also travel--though the distance is short compared to the 6 hours travel time I had in my graduate program. :)

Today was also a day to talk with colleagues, students, and others who stopped by, so it was a busy day as well as a long day.  As I talked about my experiences in San Pedro, it reminded me of the things I miss about there--like the warm weather (it snowed here yesterday and was 18 this morning) and the relaxed and laid-back atmosphere.  In the grad class tonight, I mentioned something about Belize and Dr. Shackelford and everyone began to laugh.  I said, "Oh, yeah, you all had her in the fall and know all about it."   Still it was fun to talk about San Pedro and St. Paul and South Africa in the terms of the class and my work.  I also have already talked to some students about going to the Belize May Intersession class that Dr. Shackelford will teach.

So, with that being said, on this cold winter night in Mississippi, I decided to revisit a few things and people in San Pedro, beginning with my plane ride from Belize City to San Pedro--it took longer to load the plane than it did to fly to San Pedro.

Once there and settled in our apartment, Kim "forced" me to go over to Wet Willy's to watch the Ole Miss-Tech game.  I am not that much of a football fan, but I still went and rooted for Ole Miss.  Here is proof we watched it, even though we were in Belize.  The bad part was their TV closed caption capacity was "going out" and there were white bars in half of the captions, so we never knew for sure exactly what the announcers were saying.  LOL
However, it was relatively easy to tell by the score and watching Ole Miss make touchdowns the general gist of the game. :)
Kim introduced me to the Belize national beer, Belikin.  I am not a beer drinker, but thought it was an important cultural experience to check out the "Maya pyramid beer."
Alas, the two weeks passed quickly and before we knew it, it was Thursday night and my last night there.  We went to My Secret Deli, as you know from earlier posts for the last supper.  Kim, though covered in rain and after a long hard day at the school, smiling and cheerful as ever.
Our new friend Ernesto, the most polite and considerate gentleman, ever willing to cart us around, eat spinach lasagna, and put up with my endless desire to eat at My Secret Deli.  
Hope you both are having a wonderful evening in Belize!