THANKS FOR READING

I just got to work and, like I usually do, one of the first things that I did was to check to see how many persons, if anyone at all, had logged on to my blog. To my surprise I found that I had seven hits! But, in a way, I wasn’t surprised. Lately, I have been trying to stay positive and stay spiritual in my postings. Well, last night I still dealt with matters of the spirit, but it could be argued that the posting wasn’t exactly positive. I was going through something and…… Well! you can read it and see for yourself!

Anyhoo, it appears that three or four people were compelled to read this particular post and it looks like they might have told someone else or returned to read it again! Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining! In fact, I might have to let my heart bleed all out on this blog more often because I desperately want people to read it! (I still could use some comments – some feedback though)!

But, what I’m curious about is the appetite that folks have for pain. Again, I am neither complaining, nor am I trying to pass judgment on anyone else! For one thing, I am oftentimes just as prone to look for other’s pain or humiliation, their shame and degradation, as the next person.

I remember when Jerry Springer was giving Oprah a run for her money. I used to express my dismay that people chose to watch that pap day after day, wallowing in the embarrassing trials and tribulations of others. I was just as amazed, if not more so, at the willingness of many of these people to be on the show and have their dirty secrets exposed, just for their paltry little fifteen seconds of fame. It was only a matter of time before my self-righteous ass was one of the shows devotees. Well, in all fairness to myself, I wouldn’t call myself a “devotee,” but I did start watching it fairly regularly. “Hell,” I told myself and anyone who would listen, “Most of that stuff is staged anyway!”

Before that, in the eighties, there was a popular VHS series called Faces of Death. Remember that? These were a series of tapes that had scenes of people actually being killed, usually in very graphic, violent ways. Ever wonder what it looks like when someone gets shot or burns to death? Faces of Death could sate that desire. Granted, some of the scenes were also almost certainly staged as well, but there were more than enough genuine ones. At about my second or third viewing I had to stop and ask myself why I was watching this so-called entertainment. It didn’t make me feel good. In fact, I always came away from it feeling a little dirty. I never watched it again.

How about the celebrity meltdowns? What is one of the good ole US of A’s favorite pastimes? Why, watching the stars that they have helped to build up fall apart, of course! Whitney? Britney? Michael? Mel? Ummmm…… Delicious!!!

A particularly disturbing case is that of Maia Campbell, the beautiful, young former star of In The House. About a year ago a videotape surfaced on the net of her looking like hell on wheels and behaving in a way that left you to question only whether her problem was drugs, mental illness or both. Turns out it was both. Coupled with the death of her mother, the famous author, Bebe Moore Campbell, a few years earlier, her problems with mental illness and drug abuse exploded and soon she was on the streets, allegedly being exploited, used and abused like so many other faceless, nameless young girls. I watched the video on one of the online gossip sites and then, like I usually do, I perused the comments following it. If possible, the sentiments expressed in response to the video were even more disturbing and depressing than the video itself! I had to wonder what the hell is wrong with people that they could find what I just watched funny! Why did some people feel the need to disparage that suffering young woman?

I read, once, about psychic vampires. Apparently, there are those among us that feed off of the pain of others. I don’t know about you, but I know a few of those – people who seem to strengthen themselves by weakening others or from exulting in the difficulties that other people are going through. These people seem to need to look down on others in order to feel good about themselves! They feed off of pain! I’ve found myself in the clutches of these creatures on more than a few occasions in my lifetime. And, no doubt, there have been moments in my life where I’ve spilled blood myself. I’d like to think that the need to delight in other’s misfortune is not a hallmark of my makeup, but I have definitely been guilty of feeding from time to time.

Like I said at the outset, I’m not trying to put anyone else down or pass judgment. In fact, my gut feeling is that the people who have read this post are close personal friends or family members who are concerned about me, or they might be someone who is buoyed by seeing that they are not alone in the feelings that I expressed in the posting. Either way, I am truly happy to see that I got more than my usual one or none hit count. Another thing that I could possibly take from this is that maybe people are less interested in hearing me make like Deepak Chopra and more interested in hearing from Ric Davenport!

Tell me what you want! I wanna write and I want people to read it! And can a brother get some comments? They can be short, combative, whatever… but let me know something!

Thanks for reading!

OUCH

I’ve been experiencing a feeling, for the last hour or so. I don’t know exactly what to call it. It’s not loneliness; closer to emptiness. It’s not a good feeling. I’ve experienced it before. It’s kinda like hopelessness. It’s a feeling that makes a mockery of life. This life that we take so seriously kind of feels like nothing. Do you get an idea of what a truly bad feeling it is?

I don’t know where it’s coming from either. I mean, things aren’t great, but they’re no worse than they’ve often been and a lot better than they often are. So I don’t know why I’m feeling like this.

The feeling’s leaving now. It’s not completely gone, but it’s leaving. I think that me writing about it is banishing it. I think that writing about it is also giving me a little clarity. I think that I’m feeling less than. I’m feeling kind of empty and useless. It (the feeling) just kind of came out of nowhere! Weird. I’m pretty sure my sister would say that it’s the devil.

Maybe it came over me because we just moved from our big, suburban, four-bedroom home to a two-bedroom apartment and I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to make the money we have do what we need it to do. Sometimes I feel like a failure, barely providing for my family. Here’s Christmas coming again and I’m wondering how I’m going to be able to get anyone anything…… again.

Money, or lack of it, is constantly trying to steal any joy that I might have. But I didn’t prepare for the future. I never thought about it. I certainly didn’t envision the day when I would have to provide for a family – a wife and kids. So here I am. Pushing fifty and struggling to get by. I’ve alienated several people who were once good friends, a consequence of my financial failings. I have an aunt who’s got to be rounding the corner towards ninety and I am afraid to call her because I owe her money that I can’t pay her back right now. My ten-year old daughter – frustrated when we had to leave her friend’s house whose parents, our friends, had invited us for Thanksgiving dinner – in her anger expressed her dismay at having to leave to go to our little apartment when we used to live a few doors away, all because we are “poor.”


I feel like less than a man right now. I can’t believe that I’m thinking about posting this. Of course, hardly anyone reads my blog anyway, so it’s not like I’m telling the world. It’s not like I’m some asinine entertainer who has millions of “followers” that followed his every insipid tweet. At the same time, I guess that anyone who might be reading this would be thinking, “This guy’s having a public pity-party!” I guess I am. I just feel bad and I feel the need to say it. I know that it will pass, just the same as I know that this feeling is always lurking in the background somewhere, waiting for that perfect moment to step forward and start sticking those pins in.

Ouch.

THANKFUL!

I’ve been wanting to start writing for the last few days but haven’t because I’ve been so damn tired! We had to move out of our home of the past three plus years this weekend and it took us all weekend long, from Saturday morning until Monday afternoon. It has been physically and psychologically taxing and I am running on fumes!

Being extremely tired is like being drunk – it lowers your defenses and makes you a little more candid and a little less careful about what you say than you would usually be. That’s why I have hesitated to write anything to post but, as Chris Rock’s character, Pookie, famously intoned in New Jack City, “It keep callin’ me man! It keep callin’ me!”

A few weeks back I decided to start blogging again. More importantly I decided to keep it on the spiritual tip, at least for a while. That’s where I want to be, and I think it would do us all good to keep our minds and hearts focused on that which is beyond the material. I think the world will be a much better place if more people focused on that from whence their blessings flow. Just my opinion… but anyway!

It seems like every since I made that decision it’s been like, “Ok! You talking a good game, bruh! Lessee if you can live it!” Maybe I’m just more aware of it now – Lord knows that I have been fully aware of the ongoing nature of trials and tribulations that life seems to hold, but lately, since I have raised Daizin back from the dead, it seems as if the trials have intensified.

It’s all good though! It’s been rough – still is – but it has just strengthened my faith, truth be told. I’m still standing. The people that I love – I love everybody to the best of my ability, but I’m speaking of my immediate family – are still standing. And you know what? Not to be morbid. But if God were to see fit that I were to stop standing tomorrow, well then I’d just have to accept that and trust God on that one too!

I remember once, many, many moons ago, a friend of mine (shout out to my FB friend and longtime compadre, Phil) asked me if I cared whether I lived or died. It was a difficult time, and after a few seconds of contemplation, I tearfully responded, “No.” Well, a few years later I found myself looking death eye to eye. It was at that point that I realized that maybe I did care. Maybe I did want to live. Saying that you don’t care whether you live or die sounds real romantic, but the truth is usually a little more cut and dried. We grow attached to living and, no matter how crappy life seems at any given time, the alternative, the idea of facing that great unknown – death – seems a lot less appealing when confronted with it than going on with life, regardless of how difficult it might be.

That said – I want to live. Not only do I want to live, but I hope to live to see my chillen grow relatively old. I was 26 and 27 when my father and mother died, respectively. While I am thankful to have had them for that long, I would pray that my kids get a lot longer than that with me and the wife. For one thing, I want them to live long enough to see how wrong they were about so many things and have that revelation that almost all of us do after we grow up – “Damn! I shoulda listened to my parents! They were right! I’m sorry!” I’m looking forward to being here for that glorious day!

But right now I’m weathering storms. Seems like one right after another. But I am still here. And I am that much more thankful and amazed by God’s grace, seeing me and mine through all of these situations. Of course, it seems that no sooner do you get through one, than another one is right behind it. But really, isn’t that essential to the maturation process? We get lost and then find our way out of the woods so that next time either we won’t get lost in that neck of the woods again, or if we do at least we know how to get out without scaring ourselves half to death in the process.

Does anyone know if getting white hairs is really due to stress sometimes? I notice our great president is noticeably grayer than he was two years ago. In fact, if you compare just about any former president’s picture when they got in office to when they left it, they are almost always the worst for wear. I bring this up because I am starting to gray pretty noticeably lately. Life will do that. But I’m grateful for each new day and another chance to witness another blessing, another miracle in my life!

Note: if this posting is more incoherent and rambling than usual, remember that I told ya that I’m running on fumes!

AIN'T IT HELL?

I believe in prayer.

Many times, I have asked God for help and have received it. It has happened often enough, and they (my prayers) have been answered in enough unlikely circumstances that I am convinced that it isn’t coincidence, happenstance, a product of my mind seeing what it desperately hopes to see, or any other explanation that some of the more cerebral among us may prefer.

It’s ironic because I have been accused of being “too intellectual” to understand or properly embrace God by some who feel that just trusting and having a relationship with God isn’t enough. You have to have a trust in their particular God and have a particular kind of relationship dictated by their religion or it doesn’t really count.

I’m not a religious guy. I was raised in a Baptist church, Berean, that sat right smack dab in the middle of the Robert Taylor projects in Chicago. When I was about 11 or 12 my parents and many of the other, older parishioners had a falling out with the pastor when he tried to bring in new blood, so I started going to my neighborhood church, a Lutheran church, Bethany. I went their probably until my mid-teens and then stopped going to any church whatsoever. Since then, in my early twenties, I was involved in Buddhism and I found that very gratifying, but that ended when they wanted to do a number that was too much like the canvassing that Jehovah Witnesses do.

I don’t have anything against religion. I’m not angry or antagonistic toward it ala Bill Maher or Christopher Hitchens. Of course, those guys are straight-up atheists, something that I am definitely not! But it’s funny how some people don’t seem to differentiate when you don’t embrace their religious beliefs. My experience has been that, no matter how much you protest to the contrary, the minute that you say, “I’m not religious.” What they hear is, “I don’t believe in God!”

Or you could just be a poor unfortunate who has latched on to the wrong religion, or even the right religion but – bzzzz! Sorry contestant! Wrong denomination!!!

I remember once, when I was in Somalia, in ’93, there was a guy in my company that was very, very religious. He was a young guy, about 25; nice guy, very pleasant, but with just that touch of self-righteousness that some very religious people have. Anyway, back then, when I was too young to know better, I found myself engaged in a theological debate/discussion with him. I remember, I asked him, “What about people in remote parts of the world, say the Amazonian rainforest or something, that haven’t had an opportunity to know Jesus? Do they still go to hell when they die?” Short answer? “Yes, they do.” He went on to explain how the bible says that every person will have a chance to accept Jesus as their personal savior before they die. Any argument that I had was futile. He was a true believer! After more ignorant questions from me… “Why would God give us so many choices and then, if we pick the wrong one, sentence us to eternal damnation? In fact, why sentence his ‘children’ whom he loves, to eternal damnation for any reason?”…. I could tell that I was starting to get on his nerves with my heathen banter, so I let it go.

Hell is a deep and, as it is popularly believed in, completely and frighteningly ridiculous concept to me. Really, what good purpose could hell really serve? To me, that’s like telling my son, “Ok son. You’ve had twenty-one years to get your shasta together and you’ve continuously made the wrong choices, so every day, from here on out, I’m going to keep you locked in this room, chained to this pole, and I will come in and beat you every day for an hour or two, maybe more. Additionally, I will feed you just enough to keep you alive so that I can beat and torture you some more. I love you more than I can say and I hate to do it, but I gave you every chance! Twenty-one years I gave you son! And you wouldn’t do right! So, now, though I love you more than you can begin to comprehend I will have to torture you for…. let’s see…. probably the next sixty years or so, if we both live long enough!”

Preposterous, childish, blasphemous you say? I agree. Entirely. Not to mention unnecessary, sadistic, pointless and evil, just to touch on some adjectives. But I would also argue that those don’t begin to equal those same qualities, in much greater measure, when compared to the concept of hell. And, if nothing else, it seems to me that my scenario and the concept of hell are certainly comparable.

But, you know, even as I write this, a small part of me, the part that was raised in Berean and Bethany, who went to Sunday school and retreat, kind of shudders at what I am saying here. Deep down, or maybe not so deep, a voice whispers, “You’re going to hell for this, Ric!” It’s like something out of a horror movie! Funny, huh?

You know, I started out this post intending to write about prayer. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, maybe I can get some comments this time! People get real upset when you challenge their religious beliefs. And I understand that. That’s why I usually stay away from it, but writing brings out the brat in me sometimes and I just have to say things that I ordinarily wouldn’t.

That brings me to one last encounter with a deeply religious person that I feel compelled to share (the encounter – not the person). Not long after I was introduced to the wonders of Facebook I ran across an old schoolmate that I went to grade school with, many, many eons ago. We started talking via Facebook messages after I let her know that I wasn’t too fond of telephone conversation. Thankfully, she seemed to number amongst us rare weirdoes who actually enjoy writing. We had many enjoyable conversations back and forth. Then, about a week or two in, she mentioned her strong religious beliefs. I couldn’t patronize her so I told her how I felt about religion. Her messages abruptly slowed and then, after she assured me that she didn’t resent me for challenging her beliefs, she stopped messaging all together.

In a sense I don’t blame her. Who wants to talk to someone whose beliefs, or lack thereof, so radically conflict with their own? On the other hand, I believe in live and let live. If your beliefs work for you; if they give you a peace and contentment and you’re not hurting anyone, I feel like, “More power to you!” That’s another reason that I don’t like to talk religion with the very religious. I don’t want them to think that I’m trying to get them to be a heathen like me. I’m just explaining my heathenistic viewpoint. I don’t know why I bother though. As far as I know, it has never made any impression beyond making the person in question fear that much more for my eternal soul.

I’m sorry. I just don’t believe in that. My God loves me…. and you…. and everyone else, regardless of their religious affiliation or lack thereof. I know. My God’s no good. I picked the wrong one, didn’t I?

WHERE I'M SUPPOSED TO BE

I thought I had a head start. When I was thirteen I joined my first band and before I had turned fourteen I knew what I was destined to do for a living – be a rock star. I was convinced. I practiced my craft, we (the band – Sabotage) practiced ours, and we both started getting better by leaps and bounds and I became more and more convinced that my destiny was cemented. It was just a matter of time.

When I was eighteen, Sabotage broke up. The drummer joined the military and the guitar player (RIP – Jim Tisdale) and I joined other bands. I was in and out of the band that I joined, Jutz Nutz (RIP – Woodye), for almost the next twenty years. In between I made some recordings of my own with another musician friend, a total of about fifteen songs that I became sure were going to make me rich and famous. That was about twenty-five years ago. Obviously, that didn’t happen. I played with a few other bands briefly and played on a few other recordings, but none of them even made it out into the public forum, much less made me rich and famous.

One day I found myself in my mid-30’s, floundering around in the stagnant pool that my life had become, wondering what happened. For over twenty years I’d thought that I knew what I was here for, what my purpose in life was, and suddenly it occurred to me that I was probably wrong. I figured if I hadn’t become a rich and famous musician at age 35 then it probably wasn’t going to happen. So, I virtually abandoned my musical pursuits and moved from my hometown of Chicago to Milwaukee, of all places. But it was there, in Milwaukee, that I met a young woman who, less than a year after I met her, became my wife.

Understand that by that time in my life, if I’d ever had any thoughts of getting married or becoming a dad, those days were long gone. I had pretty much figured that God wanted me single and childless. For the most part I was okay with that. I’m kind of a solitary person. For the most part, when I felt that a girlfriend was getting too close to me, or vice-versa, I’d break it off. There were times when I rued my lack of a significant other and there were times where I pined for that elusive “soulmate,” but, all in all, I had accepted it.

There was no way, in the late summer of ’98, when I moved to Milwaukee, that you could have convinced me that two summers later I’d be married with two children and one on the way. I didn’t think that I was ready for that. I didn’t think that I wanted it. In truth, I wouldn’t have believed that I could handle that. I had enough trouble trying to take care of me; I wasn’t responsible enough to be a dad. Just goes to show how much I knew. Obviously, God had other plans.

So, here it is, 2010. I’ve been married for over 10 years. I don’t even own a guitar anymore; my two oldest children are grown and just about grown – technically anyway. My youngest daughter is ten and growing fast. My grand illusions of being a rich and famous rock star are not only gone, but I no longer have any desire to be such. I haven’t in quite a while now. I’ve accepted that, right now anyway, my purpose in life is to be the best husband and dad that I can be. Sometimes I think that I am not doing such a bang-up job of it. At other times I feel that I’ve done pretty good considering that God just threw me into the water and said, “Swim!”

There are times when I play the “what if” game. What if I had pursued my music more seriously? What if I had spent more time tending to the business of the show instead of concentrating almost solely on the show itself and the nonsense that I felt went along with it? What if I had have taken my studies more seriously? What if I had taken my family and friends’ advice and when to college so that I could have a backup in case the music didn’t work out? What if I had have decided to attend Morehouse with my buddies back in the day, like my mom wanted me to? What if? What if? What if?

You know what? God put me where I am supposed to be. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. So, until or unless it’s clear that He’s revised the plan, I’m going to do the best that I can where I am because, obviously, this is where I’m supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong – I’m vigilant for any further developments. I don’t doubt that there’s something else out there for me. Sometimes I almost think that I can feel it, right around the corner. But, either way it goes, I trust God to handle things. I trust that I’ll be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there and, even if that place doesn’t coincide with what I had in mind and might be a little uncomfortable at first, I have to keep in mind that my fortune telling skills have proved to be suspect, at best. But my God knows the way. I’ll follow Him.

I'MA LET HIM HANDLE IT!

How hard it is to accept your current circumstance sometimes.

We spend so much time wishing that we weren’t where we are.

Acceptance isn’t easy. It takes practice. Especially in our society. We are raised to “fight, fight, fight!” “Never give up!” “Never give in!” People think there is something wrong with you if you just throw up your hands and say “ok.”

Certainly there are times when you don’t just give up. One of my personal mantras is, “I will not give up!” But that’s a long-run thing. Sometimes, in the short-run, it is better to concede, to acquiesce to the moment and accept that, in the words of Run-DMC, “It’s like that / and that’s the way it is.”

Confused? Here’s an example, albeit one some might consider a rather morbid one.

Consider you are walking down the street one day or night and someone approaches you, brandishing a firearm, and demands your money. Is that a good time to fight, or would it be better to accept the fact that this person is holding something that can kill you in a second and that it might be better to just accept the fact that you are at a disadvantage, to say the least, and conclude that the twenty dollars and the bank card in your wallet or purse is not worth your life? I’d say that is a good time to get some acceptance of your situation.

Now… Take that same scenario, but this time imagine that the person approaches you and announces that they are about to shoot you and take your money. That might not be a good time to accept your present circumstance. That’s probably a good time to put up a fight.

Let’s leave the dramatic hypothetical situations aside. Here’s a more common problem. Too often we struggle with things that we have little or no control over. Specifically, we often try and manipulate or control the actions of others or of situations that we have little or no control over. In the meantime, we ignore the one person we can exert control over. You guessed it – ourselves!

We are so quick to say, “So-and-so made me mad!” or “If it wasn’t for so-and-so, I wouldn’t have ever done that incredibly stupid thing that I did!”

Please!

We surrender the reigns to our life over to others and complain that things aren’t going the way we want them to!

I’ve been practicing acceptance. I’m not getting any younger. I don’t need to be creating stress for myself because I can’t accept what appears to be God’s will. I’m not omniscient. I don’t know what tomorrow holds or if I’ll even be here to see it. I do know that all of the major changes in my life for the better were changes that I never would have imagined making on my own. They came because I tried to wrestle my life to where I wanted it to be and then I had a moment of clarity (the Voice of God?) and did something totally out of character that wound up saving my ass. I mean, quite honestly, if I had only followed my own bright ideas for the last twenty years I’d probably be dead or in jail. So when something happens that I don’t like or wasn’t expecting and I find that there is little or nothing that I can really do to change it, I am trying to try not to change it. I am working at acceptance because I know very little and I believe that my God knows all. I’ma let Him handle it.


Note: Due to some of those circumstances that I don’t really like, but can do little to nothing about right now, I have to write and post my blathering from work right now. Consequently, my incredible talents might not be quite what they would normally be. Please forgive me.