How Do You Spell Faith? Is it M.U.S.T.A.R.D. - seed?

Don’t run! I am not going to drop God on you. Well, I know some people don’t want to hear it, and I can’t make you love me.

Turn down the light, then turn down the bed. Turn down these voices inside my head. Lay down with me and tell me no lies. Hold me close and don’t patronize. Because I can’t make you love me - if you don’t. You can’t make your heart feel something that it won’t. And, I can’t make you love me. I am going to close my eyes, then I can’t see the love that’s not in you - and me.

“All you need is the faith of a mustard seed”

Oh boy, we’ve all heard that before. It’s generally used in a biblical context. But let me tell you a little story.

When I was a kid, we lived in the projects. My father told us that one day he was going to buy a house with a basement. In the basement, he was going to build a gym. He did that. Well, it wasn’t a big gym, in fact, it was nothing more than a few items like a bunching bag and small weights, but we loved it. My father screwed in a spring resistance thang in a support beam. It was a used item that my father purchased from the Salvation Army, so there wasn’t much resistance but we made it work. My father said if I stood back far enough and worked that thing long enough, I would eventually see some results. Okay, I had faith in my father’s words, so for days and days, for hours and hours, I pulled on that contraption. One day I noticed a little bump on my arm. It was a muscle! Years later, I had gun boats.

Many more years later, I bought a home, and I had a gym in my basement. To make a long story short, take a look at my son’s arms.

Sometimes, wisdom rolls down hill.


Who likes doing the hard stuff? Who wants to hear the hard stuff? I mean, who likes to be put in check? I don’t like to see or hear, anything about my character flaws. I sure don’t like saying I was wrong. I am also very hesitant to say “I don’t know”. Hell, that hurts. I’ve been known to defend my position even though I knew damn well I was standing on stupid. But I’ve come to believe that a little faith goes a long way. Faith is a big word. Some people say blind-faith. Well, I am going to say it’s a belief in something or someone that is not tangible. You know, like a God that one can’t see, or an idea that one couldn’t conceive on their own.

Today, I was over at RiPPa’s spot http://rippdemup.blogspot.com/2010/02/black-history-month-i-aint-from-africa.html The topic of discussion was Black History Month. I was over there running my mouth, like I always do, and within 1 hour, two people put me in check. I dug in for a battle. But when I cooled my hills and got out of my own way, I knew they were right. Damn that hurt. Everyone didn't agree with them, but what they said made sense. One brother was hot. He said the month long celebration ain't nothing but a sell-out. Check out RiPPa's post.

Anyway, PPR_Scribe http://postpostracial.wordpress.com/ was one of the individuals that kicked me in my behind. She said, "Carey, I'm gonna ignore you and your foolishness. lol". See, Ms. Scribe is an Internet friend, so I let her slide.

I took her foot out of my ass, and Kmasenda @ http://kennymasenda.blogspot.com/ inserted his. He said, "I knew you were a professional instigater, but I had to set you straight. Well, actually, he was cool, so he really said.

"As for quizzing me, I'm gonna be a gentleman about this. Let's try this again". He went on to say (among other things)"No harm done, brother! I've been around the site long enough to know you're the resident fire-starter...hahahahaha. It's all good, homie"

See, I hit him with my "A" shot (well, "B" shot) and he, in turn, killed me softly. I learned a little something.

I know this may be a surprise to many of you, but I am not always right. Yeah, I said it, CareyCarey can be a damn fool... sometimes. But I am trying to be a better man. Listening to the hard stuff is painful. More so, admitting to myself that it could be right, can also be a taunting task. Then, admitting to other individuals that I have erred, is something that makes me very uncomfortable. However, through it all, I've learned that kind of pain soon subsides when I accept the facts, even when they are not want I want to hear. There are serendipitous rewards of having a little faith in other people. They may know more about my needs than I care to address.

In the end, I can't make you love me, and conversely, you can't make me love you. Ultimately, the prize and journey is at my feet. I've noticed that when I've found the courage to say come on, I am truly listening, I've found rewards on the other side. I've found a faith and a belief that everything is gonna be alright in the morning!

Well, how do you spell faith? Is it hard to spell and hard to swallow? Is it B.L.I.N.D, and thus, hard to accept. Is it always your way or no way? I think we only need the faith of a mustard seed. If it's planted in the right soil, I know it will grow.

Can I Have Some? I need some of that! I will be gentle.

One child grows up to be
Somebody that just loves to learn
Another child grows up to be
Somebody we just love to burn


What I've been learning on blogs like yours and Kit's is that people benefit from us sharing that hard stuff. It's not easy to share, but it makes me feel good to know other people relate and appreciate it - Ms Ashley Smith

Why?

Why is it hard to share the hard stuff, and why do people appreciate [it]?


I have a brother that's deep in the storm. Well, he was duel addicted to crack and heroin. To some degree he still is. See, someone had this great idea to give addicts a synthetic drug that has the same narcotic effect of heroin, and thus, champion the addict as cured. Not cured but "better". Okay, better, what does that mean?

If I give a mother of 4 children 400 dollars, and then tell her she can sit on her fat ass and do nothing, is she better? Huh, she didn't have any money to start with, so is she not better? Better what, better how?!

In the case of my brother, lets talk about the real thang. Now... now that he's getting his "approved" drug from an "approved" dealer, is he really better. Better at what, better how?!

The hard core fact is, now he HAS to take a drug that is 10 times stronger than heroin. The drug is called Methadone. We call it Gorilla Juice. If a person had a monkey on their back, once they start taking Methadone, on a regular basis, they then have a gorilla on their ass. I've been through a storm but I've never taken Methadone. Well, not legally.

My brother is better, but he's still the same immature person that he's always been. He is insecure and afraid of his emotion. If you ask him, he would tell you he wasn't really an addict. He conveniently forgets that he's the same person that sold the shoes off his feet to get high. He forgets that he's the same person that sold all his families Christmas gift - to get high. He conveniently forgets that day a man knocked on his door to take possession of his wife's car, that he had sold to a dope dealer - without her consent and/or knowledge. He once told our mother that he had cancer so he could bilk her out of her money. Yep, he's still basically the same guy he has always been. But now he's drinking Methadone. I've come to believe it allows him to stay in his comfort zone. No growth can be found while living with a child's mind.

When I question him on why he consistently runs from the hard "stuff", like growing up, and being a responsible man, he says he's not ready for that. Okay, that may be true, but the begging question is... WHY? Why are we all of afraid of the hard stuff?

A women that I see on a regular basis, has a daughter that's a lesbian. Upon first hearing abot her daughter, she was hurt. She didn't know anything about lesbians. She only knew what others said about them. Of course, much of what she heard was rooted in ignorance. She thought she had done something wrong while raising her daughter. Through a little pain, knowledge and a lot of prayer, she's now very comfortable with her daughter's lifestyle. In fact, her daughter, that once was married to a man, is soon to be married to a woman. And check this, they got my dumb ass up in the wedding. Yep, not only am I in the wedding, I'm the MC at the reception. It's a family affair.

The hard stuff: Why is it so hard to let it go?

Mom loves the both of them
You see it's in the blood
Both kids are good to mom
blood's thicker than the mud, it's a family affair

You can't leave 'cause your heart is there
Sure you can't stay 'cause you been somewhere else
You can't cry 'cause you'll look broke down
But you're cryin anyway 'cause you're all broke down

It's A Family Affair - Sly Stone

I need some love. Can I get some of that? I'll be gentle. I don't mind the hard stuff.

Ali - My Man! My Brother Of The Struggle

Today I ran into Ali.

On my way to write another frivolous post -- after visiting with my daughter -- Ali stopped me.



Going back: I was standing at the ticket counter of death. I had reserved a seat to the final call. I was queued up and ready to go. When I heard my number called, I moved to the front of the line, dropped my head -- paused -- and walked away. It wasn't my turn. It wasn't my time.

Some years ago, I was down for the count. It was in the 15th round of a major fight. I was fighting for my life. I was in a state that didn't honor the 3 knockdown rule. I was in a state of mind, that insanity ruled. Fear and disillusionment were the sanctioning bodies. They controlled the action in that ring, in that arena. If the three knockdown rule was in affect, I wouldn't be writing this post.

I am a huge boxing fan. I am a huge fan of Muhammad Ali. However, just as my admiration for Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, my affection for Ali is rooted in the core of the man. Each of the individual are praised and admired for all the popular reasons. I've been moved by their deep principles and their fighting spirit.

"Say it loud, I am black and I am proud"

~ James Brown

MLK had an undying religious conviction. He was the epitome of a black role model with deep family values. At an early age, Malcolm X saw the horrors of racism and the inside of a penitentiary. Both men were married and fought for causes that were bigger than them. Each left behind a strong wife, and a road map to being a good man.

At the prime of his life, Muhammad Ali was striped of his license to box by the the government of the USA. How did a man go from being one of the most hated black men in America, to lighting the Olympic touch?

Long before it was popular to protest our involvement in foreign wars, Ali said, "Hell no, I will not go". Because of his decision to stand on his faith, he was vilified by the press and some people of his own race. His conversion to Islam threw fire long before the present state of affairs in Iraq and Afghanistan.



In the fight game, Ali fought the best of the best. He was an 8-1 underdog to Sonny Liston. He beat him twice. Ken Norton broke his jaw in two places. He did away with him as well. A white man by the name of Cooper knocked him down in the 4th round. He got up and finished him off. After a 5 year forced retirement, he came back to regain his title. Some of his skills had diminished but he fought on.


Joe Frazier stood in his way. They had 3 memorable battles. Who can forget the Thrilla In Manila? Ali was the last man standing.



The motherland called his name. George foreman stood at the gate. The Rumble In The Jungle found Ali with slower hands and less peep in his step, but his mind and heart were still strong.


The Goliath like Foreman was counted out in the 8th round.



Martin Luther King stood for civil rights. Malcolm X stood for black pride. Ali stood on his principles. They all were great men. They all stood strong while fighting for right.

I like Muhammad Ali, he stopped me today. The man still hits hard. I was on my way to write a post of a different flavor. Before doing so, I found a serendipitous reward. I stopped to watch the documentary "Facing Ali". It was a knockout!

Like Ali, I was down for the count but it wasn't my time. I had to get up... someone needed me. It's not always about us.