My love is not ephemeral.
I will love you every season
until the end of time.
And if anyone tries to convince you otherwise please put your trust in me.
The truth is I almost gave up,
but you gave me hope to believe again.
My love is not ephemeral.
I never really wanted to fool you
with such evanescence.
And shame on me if I ever give you another reason to doubt me.
The truth is I’ve lied before but not anymore.
My love is not ephemeral.
When eternity felt so far away
you gently placed it back into my heart again.
And if I could live forever
I would orchestrate a timeless symphony harmonizing together with you.
The truth is my mind and body will fade away one day
but my love for you never will.
My love is not ephemeral.
Every promise I make to you in the future I intend to keep.
And if you give me another chance I promise I will never let you down.
The truth is I did,
but as God is my witness I never will again for as long as I live.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Second Grader Raped On Playground During Recess
That is the headline running through my mind. Why it never even made dinner conversation or more importantly, consolation from my mother is a question I've asked myself over and over throughout these years since.
::
It was recess. After lunch. A bright and sunny afternoon. Swings were flying from one side to the other almost reaching the sky and over top of the fence that the most athletically fit jumped onto landing like monkeys only a few feet away as the swings made their highest peak.
::
There were kids everywhere, almost chaotically dispersed. And voices echoed in the air happy to be out in the sun on this afternoon. I don't remember the events leading up to the tragedy, but at this school I loved so well my twin sister and I were the object of reverse discrimination sometimes, being two of a few white children attending a mostly black populated elementary school.
::
I was shoved and pushed up against the brick wall of our school building by about six black boys. My peers. My age group, I guess, because First, Second and Third Graders played on this particular playground and the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Graders played on another playground. I was only seven years old. They were all holding me against my will, forcing themselves on me and spurting out indecencies. Pumping back and forth on top of me violently. My clothes were never removed. But a lot more was raped from me that day than my virginity—my innocence.
::
I remember the powerlessness I felt. An overwhelming disbelief dissociating myself once more of the emotional pain. I was crying frantically, taking huge gasps for air, catching my breath between screams for them to get off of me. Then from that white bright light of freedom to my quiet school room with Mrs. Goodrich sitting alone in the room in our make shift little library sectioned off and an L-shaped row of chairs where she sat, purposefully it seems, perpendicularly across from me on one of the chairs a few feet away from me as I was sobbing trying to catch my breath. And she almost antagonizingly kept staring at me while I cried hopelessly for some reassurance.
::
The only thing I can remember her saying about the whole ordeal is a question pitched to me: Did he touch you on your private!?
::
I can still see myself sitting there all alone, tears streaming down my face not knowing how to describe the event that just took place. And thinking back the question posed to me seems heartless. I've thought back on that isolating, lonely feeling after such a traumatic attack and have convinced myself that I've been given an assignment to be reborn again in a black male body ridden with Polio or Multiple Sclerosis because God feels I need a lifetime of hugging and lifting and caressing before I can ever move on from the emotional pain.
::
The description "rape" was never used. I had no words in my vocabulary to describe what had just happened. I wanted my mother. I wanted to go home. I wanted my twin sister who was in the other classroom and who witnessed this but was unable to help me. I needed a hug and an embrace assuring me that everything was going to be alright.
::
Nothing.
::
Nothing more than a cold stare.
::
And I don't even think a note was sent home with me to my mother. She wasn't called to the school. An event that would make headline news today was just brushed off.
::
I only recently, within the past two years, brought the event up to my mother and told her what had happened and asked her if she remembered anything and she was shocked and said no, that if she would have been told there would have been hell to pay.
::
I carried this and a lot of other events that happened to me on my shoulders that seemed to just get swept under the carpet. Events that developed my character into a strong but soft enduring one. I've felt that the others thought I was strong for never mentioning it and that they respected me for never bringing it up. I don't remember any of the boys' names and I don't blame them. They were my same age and I know that if that was happening to me on the playground in broad daylight I've wondered what on earth was happening to those boys at home.
::
::
It was recess. After lunch. A bright and sunny afternoon. Swings were flying from one side to the other almost reaching the sky and over top of the fence that the most athletically fit jumped onto landing like monkeys only a few feet away as the swings made their highest peak.
::
There were kids everywhere, almost chaotically dispersed. And voices echoed in the air happy to be out in the sun on this afternoon. I don't remember the events leading up to the tragedy, but at this school I loved so well my twin sister and I were the object of reverse discrimination sometimes, being two of a few white children attending a mostly black populated elementary school.
::
I was shoved and pushed up against the brick wall of our school building by about six black boys. My peers. My age group, I guess, because First, Second and Third Graders played on this particular playground and the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Graders played on another playground. I was only seven years old. They were all holding me against my will, forcing themselves on me and spurting out indecencies. Pumping back and forth on top of me violently. My clothes were never removed. But a lot more was raped from me that day than my virginity—my innocence.
::
I remember the powerlessness I felt. An overwhelming disbelief dissociating myself once more of the emotional pain. I was crying frantically, taking huge gasps for air, catching my breath between screams for them to get off of me. Then from that white bright light of freedom to my quiet school room with Mrs. Goodrich sitting alone in the room in our make shift little library sectioned off and an L-shaped row of chairs where she sat, purposefully it seems, perpendicularly across from me on one of the chairs a few feet away from me as I was sobbing trying to catch my breath. And she almost antagonizingly kept staring at me while I cried hopelessly for some reassurance.
::
The only thing I can remember her saying about the whole ordeal is a question pitched to me: Did he touch you on your private!?
::
I can still see myself sitting there all alone, tears streaming down my face not knowing how to describe the event that just took place. And thinking back the question posed to me seems heartless. I've thought back on that isolating, lonely feeling after such a traumatic attack and have convinced myself that I've been given an assignment to be reborn again in a black male body ridden with Polio or Multiple Sclerosis because God feels I need a lifetime of hugging and lifting and caressing before I can ever move on from the emotional pain.
::
The description "rape" was never used. I had no words in my vocabulary to describe what had just happened. I wanted my mother. I wanted to go home. I wanted my twin sister who was in the other classroom and who witnessed this but was unable to help me. I needed a hug and an embrace assuring me that everything was going to be alright.
::
Nothing.
::
Nothing more than a cold stare.
::
And I don't even think a note was sent home with me to my mother. She wasn't called to the school. An event that would make headline news today was just brushed off.
::
I only recently, within the past two years, brought the event up to my mother and told her what had happened and asked her if she remembered anything and she was shocked and said no, that if she would have been told there would have been hell to pay.
::
I carried this and a lot of other events that happened to me on my shoulders that seemed to just get swept under the carpet. Events that developed my character into a strong but soft enduring one. I've felt that the others thought I was strong for never mentioning it and that they respected me for never bringing it up. I don't remember any of the boys' names and I don't blame them. They were my same age and I know that if that was happening to me on the playground in broad daylight I've wondered what on earth was happening to those boys at home.
::
Arianna Huffington shared a quote recently that has profound meaning to me: Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset. —Saint Francis de Sales
::
And I think of the tragic events that have taken place in Ferguson, Missouri. How many more lives are going to be taken away from us before this type of bullying execution stops? My English 110 teacher at The City College of New York, Mrs. Fitzgerald, said during a discussion in our class about police brutality when we read the famous essay by George Orwell, Shooting An Elephant, that her grade-school sons were afraid of the police. And we all agreed that if a child is afraid of the police then something is definitely wrong with our society we live in.
::
::
I want to reach every young person before "they" do. I would have loved to try and reach Robin Williams. Jesus said: Don't let anyone rob you of your joy. I want to tell you to turn the other cheek like he did. And ask you to lay down your weapons like he bid his apostle to do who was only trying to protect him when he drew his sword and cut off one of the soldier's ears. I want to heal like Jesus did when he touched the soldier's ear and made it perfect again. I will not say "but I can't." I will still continue healing and try to heal others and be a healer. And I want to ask you to be a healer also and be a catalyst for healing instead of wielding all of us into another war. I want to reach you before the marijuana or cocaine reaches you, or before the alcohol overtakes you while you are still present. I need you. We need you.
I want to reach every young person before "they" do. I would have loved to try and reach Robin Williams. Jesus said: Don't let anyone rob you of your joy. I want to tell you to turn the other cheek like he did. And ask you to lay down your weapons like he bid his apostle to do who was only trying to protect him when he drew his sword and cut off one of the soldier's ears. I want to heal like Jesus did when he touched the soldier's ear and made it perfect again. I will not say "but I can't." I will still continue healing and try to heal others and be a healer. And I want to ask you to be a healer also and be a catalyst for healing instead of wielding all of us into another war. I want to reach you before the marijuana or cocaine reaches you, or before the alcohol overtakes you while you are still present. I need you. We need you.
::
I want the headline to say: Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin and Robin Williams Were Resurrected Today. I want the headline to say: No One Died Today. No One Committed Suicide Today. No One Was Raped Today.
I want the headline to say: Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin and Robin Williams Were Resurrected Today. I want the headline to say: No One Died Today. No One Committed Suicide Today. No One Was Raped Today.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Choose Life
During this time of the year I keep hearing advertisements and seeing posters for blood drives. It puts me in the frame of mind to be conscious about this life saving issue. I've never given blood before, but lately I've been wondering if I would like to give blood and how this would impact my life and the lives of others.
::
I don't even know my blood type. I've asked certain doctors who have done a blood panel on me before and they have just looked at me strange like I ought to know what my blood type is already at this stage of my life. It reminds me of the occurrence in the bible regarding the benediction and the malediction when God asked the Israelites to choose between life or death. (Deuteronomy 11:26)
::
I reverently respect life. And the issue of donating blood or receiving blood transfusions is a sensitive subject for me. I imagine it is to others as well. Jesus said whoever loves his soul too much would lose it and whoever was conscious of losing his soul would gain it. (John 12:25) I always think of this when it comes to making important life decisions such as donating blood or accepting blood transfusions.
::
Life and its life force or soul and blood is a very precious gift and I don't take it lightly. Receiving a blood transfusion is on the same level of seriousness as putting one's life at risk to help another person in need or traveling, perhaps, at night when one is exhausted and afraid of falling asleep behind the wheel. Sadly, some are hypocritical in that they do the latter, but would never consider donating blood or receiving a blood transfusion. All of these things are part of the consideration of choosing life and not carelessly putting anyone's life in danger.
::
Although I've never donated blood before in my life, the issue of donating blood and receiving blood transfusions is a constant in my life because of my understanding of the holy scriptures and God's admonition or warning to abstain from blood.
::
This issue brings up so many conflicting thoughts for me that I don't know how to direct someone except to share my experiences and relay my reliance on a Higher Power and my God-given conscience to warn others to do a similar search for the truth about donating blood or receiving blood transfusions.
::
When thinking of the issue of blood and the ethical issue of donating blood or blood transfusions I can't help but remember my first experience with blood, of all places, in a psychiatric unit by a psychiatrist who violated me with blood products. Why this psychiatrist would do such a thing is beyond me, except he had an enormous amount of authority. But he must have witnessed lots of family members or friends if not himself being persecuted during World War II in Nazi concentration camps, because he was Jewish. I thought he was Jewish at least. (He wore a yamaka).
::
It was my first day or so in the hospital. I know this for a fact because I hadn't been given any medication yet. There is an evaluation period or waiting period the doctor's have to wait before they can administer medication. I was sitting in the patient lounge. All of a sudden I saw the psychiatrist through the glass window walking towards me with this strange-looking glass vile that had a black lid screwed on top. It had a long tube extending out from it. I froze. I looked at him and the glass vile of blood and thought to myself as he was walking closer towards me that I am just as helpless as a sitting duck.
::
He and a male nurse who assisted him grabbed my right arm. I immediately thought of Jesus Christ when he said if they slap you on one side of your cheek turn the other also. (Matthew 5:39) As the doctor pricked me I turned my head to my left and started praying fervently. The male nurse blurted out, "You Jehovah's Witnesses, You don't accept blood transfusions." I knew this was a subtle form of persecution for being one of Jehovah's Witnesses and for being a Christian. I didn't think of it any other way. The doctor was abusing his power.
::
My arms then became paralyzed. The psychiatrist and nurses kept saying it was because of the Haldol they later gave me. But I know it was a combination of the contaminated blood and also due to the fact that the psychiatrist kept giving me large doses of Haldol without giving me Cogentin to counter the affects of the Haldol. I also believe the holy spirit was a factor.
::
I've thought back on that one mistreatment there in the psychiatric unit of Saint Mary's Hospital in Bayonne, New Jersey many times. There were other worse abuses that I've recounted over the years that happened to me in there. But this, truthfully, was equivalent to the other abuses I experienced in there.
::
My mom had told the doctors in the ER about my preoccupation with believing I had acquired AIDS and wanting to get an AIDS test all because of my guilt of having had a sexual encounter unprotected with a male acquaintance. So why the psychiatrist would want to compound my fears is cruel to me.
::
After that administration of blood I felt filthy. I felt dirty all over and I have had bouts of phlebitis ever since.
::
My advice to anyone contemplating a blood transfusion or considering donating blood is to pray fervently on the matter to our Creator as to what you would do when a crisis arises and you may be faced with the issue of receiving a blood transfusion. More often than not it is not as dire as the doctors would have you believe. There are so many other alternatives you ought to consider. I personally have made a dedication never to receive a voluntary blood transfusion myself. I also strive to live a vegetarian lifestyle trying to move toward a vegan lifestyle living in harmony with the animals and my fellow man.
::
So, the conflict for me is not there. Except I often wonder why so many persons who abstain from blood transfusions often don't carry the same concern when it comes to meat products that are laden with blood still. And how their conscience can let them kill an animal and eat some byproducts of blood, yet, deny their fellow man a, sometimes, lifesaving gesture by donating their own blood.
::
Every person has to make their own choice.
::
Once, not too long after that hospitalization, I asked my dear friend at my congregation if we are allowed to eat meat and she adamantly said, "We're not allowed to eat blood!"
::
And I couldn't comprehend how you could do one without doing the other. Not every trace of blood is taken out of raw meat before it is cooked. So, this contradiction is difficult for me to understand. I try to just abstain from meat altogether. And I usually feel guilty for weeks when I do eat meat, and, believe me, I thoroughly try to clean the meat from any blood. But I know it doesn't all come out.
::
The Christians in the First Century were admonished to abstain from blood through the power of the holy spirit. (Acts 15:28, 29)
::
I still to this day take that admonition seriously, although, I don't like to make a big issue of it, especially, do I not push my God-given conscience on others.
::
My yearning for sharing this with you is regret of past moments of silence when my school mates at art school had a blood drive and at that time I sat silently by, and, although, I didn't donate blood myself I didn't speak up and share some of this important information about blood with them. So I am trying to make up for lost time.
::
I admonish you, please, to make a thorough search for the truth. Choose life. But, more importantly, choose the truth. It will always lead you to life. Always.
::
I don't even know my blood type. I've asked certain doctors who have done a blood panel on me before and they have just looked at me strange like I ought to know what my blood type is already at this stage of my life. It reminds me of the occurrence in the bible regarding the benediction and the malediction when God asked the Israelites to choose between life or death. (Deuteronomy 11:26)
::
I reverently respect life. And the issue of donating blood or receiving blood transfusions is a sensitive subject for me. I imagine it is to others as well. Jesus said whoever loves his soul too much would lose it and whoever was conscious of losing his soul would gain it. (John 12:25) I always think of this when it comes to making important life decisions such as donating blood or accepting blood transfusions.
::
Life and its life force or soul and blood is a very precious gift and I don't take it lightly. Receiving a blood transfusion is on the same level of seriousness as putting one's life at risk to help another person in need or traveling, perhaps, at night when one is exhausted and afraid of falling asleep behind the wheel. Sadly, some are hypocritical in that they do the latter, but would never consider donating blood or receiving a blood transfusion. All of these things are part of the consideration of choosing life and not carelessly putting anyone's life in danger.
::
Although I've never donated blood before in my life, the issue of donating blood and receiving blood transfusions is a constant in my life because of my understanding of the holy scriptures and God's admonition or warning to abstain from blood.
::
This issue brings up so many conflicting thoughts for me that I don't know how to direct someone except to share my experiences and relay my reliance on a Higher Power and my God-given conscience to warn others to do a similar search for the truth about donating blood or receiving blood transfusions.
::
When thinking of the issue of blood and the ethical issue of donating blood or blood transfusions I can't help but remember my first experience with blood, of all places, in a psychiatric unit by a psychiatrist who violated me with blood products. Why this psychiatrist would do such a thing is beyond me, except he had an enormous amount of authority. But he must have witnessed lots of family members or friends if not himself being persecuted during World War II in Nazi concentration camps, because he was Jewish. I thought he was Jewish at least. (He wore a yamaka).
::
It was my first day or so in the hospital. I know this for a fact because I hadn't been given any medication yet. There is an evaluation period or waiting period the doctor's have to wait before they can administer medication. I was sitting in the patient lounge. All of a sudden I saw the psychiatrist through the glass window walking towards me with this strange-looking glass vile that had a black lid screwed on top. It had a long tube extending out from it. I froze. I looked at him and the glass vile of blood and thought to myself as he was walking closer towards me that I am just as helpless as a sitting duck.
::
He and a male nurse who assisted him grabbed my right arm. I immediately thought of Jesus Christ when he said if they slap you on one side of your cheek turn the other also. (Matthew 5:39) As the doctor pricked me I turned my head to my left and started praying fervently. The male nurse blurted out, "You Jehovah's Witnesses, You don't accept blood transfusions." I knew this was a subtle form of persecution for being one of Jehovah's Witnesses and for being a Christian. I didn't think of it any other way. The doctor was abusing his power.
::
My arms then became paralyzed. The psychiatrist and nurses kept saying it was because of the Haldol they later gave me. But I know it was a combination of the contaminated blood and also due to the fact that the psychiatrist kept giving me large doses of Haldol without giving me Cogentin to counter the affects of the Haldol. I also believe the holy spirit was a factor.
::
I've thought back on that one mistreatment there in the psychiatric unit of Saint Mary's Hospital in Bayonne, New Jersey many times. There were other worse abuses that I've recounted over the years that happened to me in there. But this, truthfully, was equivalent to the other abuses I experienced in there.
::
My mom had told the doctors in the ER about my preoccupation with believing I had acquired AIDS and wanting to get an AIDS test all because of my guilt of having had a sexual encounter unprotected with a male acquaintance. So why the psychiatrist would want to compound my fears is cruel to me.
::
After that administration of blood I felt filthy. I felt dirty all over and I have had bouts of phlebitis ever since.
::
My advice to anyone contemplating a blood transfusion or considering donating blood is to pray fervently on the matter to our Creator as to what you would do when a crisis arises and you may be faced with the issue of receiving a blood transfusion. More often than not it is not as dire as the doctors would have you believe. There are so many other alternatives you ought to consider. I personally have made a dedication never to receive a voluntary blood transfusion myself. I also strive to live a vegetarian lifestyle trying to move toward a vegan lifestyle living in harmony with the animals and my fellow man.
::
So, the conflict for me is not there. Except I often wonder why so many persons who abstain from blood transfusions often don't carry the same concern when it comes to meat products that are laden with blood still. And how their conscience can let them kill an animal and eat some byproducts of blood, yet, deny their fellow man a, sometimes, lifesaving gesture by donating their own blood.
::
Every person has to make their own choice.
::
Once, not too long after that hospitalization, I asked my dear friend at my congregation if we are allowed to eat meat and she adamantly said, "We're not allowed to eat blood!"
::
And I couldn't comprehend how you could do one without doing the other. Not every trace of blood is taken out of raw meat before it is cooked. So, this contradiction is difficult for me to understand. I try to just abstain from meat altogether. And I usually feel guilty for weeks when I do eat meat, and, believe me, I thoroughly try to clean the meat from any blood. But I know it doesn't all come out.
::
The Christians in the First Century were admonished to abstain from blood through the power of the holy spirit. (Acts 15:28, 29)
::
I still to this day take that admonition seriously, although, I don't like to make a big issue of it, especially, do I not push my God-given conscience on others.
::
My yearning for sharing this with you is regret of past moments of silence when my school mates at art school had a blood drive and at that time I sat silently by, and, although, I didn't donate blood myself I didn't speak up and share some of this important information about blood with them. So I am trying to make up for lost time.
::
I admonish you, please, to make a thorough search for the truth. Choose life. But, more importantly, choose the truth. It will always lead you to life. Always.
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