Well, on the heels of my last socially charged blog entry, I figured it best to lighten the mood to discuss your own personal Jesus. No, dearies, we're not speaking about the Depeche Mode song of the same name, nor are we actually discussing Yahweh, Jehovah or the Jesus Christ himself. No, my pets, we are here to discuss me and the story of my immaculate conception.
Once upon a time in a college far, far away (aka Chapel Hill) my parents came to visit me and my roommate in order to bring some furniture for our new apartment. My roommate took to my mother immediately, and sat out on the deck hackling like to old Southern hens most of the afternoon. Meanwhile my father and I assembled the furniture. At some point my mother and roommate emerged from the deck announced it was time for my parents to leave. We said our goodbyes, and my roommate actually looked sad, torn even, to see my mother go.
Later that night we were arranging furniture, and my roommate blurted out, "I never knew you were a surprise." Taken aback, I asked what was meant.
"Well your mom just told me how they had planned your brothers out to the month, but you were so much a surprise, that you father questioned how you were conceived."
Dumbstruck, I played it off. "Oh THAT! Yeah..
Internally, though, I was flabbergasted. Not only did I not know the story, I was sort of shocked my mother would tell my roommate she had just met for the first time, but has never told me!
I went to my mother that night on the phone to query her. It turned out she hadn't revealed the entire story! It appears that my parents had both had their respective parts "tied" after my brother, and only planned to have two children. Then, four years later... Surprise! I rear my bald little head. It caused some great deal of internal turmoil, with lots and lots of speculation about what really happened. I understood there were lots of extended family "discussions" about it, too.
But here I am, miraculously conceived, borne to parents who were clearly mine (I look like a hybrid between them). My childhood doctor often called me the miracle boy when he'd see my mother and me in town. I like to think I have a strong will to live, right from the beginning, and will live up to that motto to the day I die.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Don't touch my yin yang!
It has been a long time coming, and I have avoided the conversation all together until now, but I think it is finally time for me to breech the subject of my religion. Recently, we started our first accupressure class in massage school, which is largely based on the principles of Taoism - yin and yang. It got my mind wandering about life in general and how people work the fundamentals of religion into things that best support their way of life.
In a weird way, I think a person's religious beliefs say much more about the person than their political affiliation or race would. Faith is something we own, but religion is something (in most cases) we choose.
I grew up Southern Baptist in a rather small, Southern town located in the midst of a rural, swampy area of hard-working, middle class (or lower) Americans. I will venture to say, for them, they chose their faith through a religion based on their neighbors...their community. It was rare that any non-work related function didn't center around the church or happen with other church members. It was almost expected that you were to be at church on Wednesdays and Sundays. There was a level of expectation that you silently followed or you were otherwise excluded. Sort of like Club Med for poor Southern Baptists - just without the body scrubs, and with chicken bog instead of chicken fricassee.
When I moved to Germany as a student, my eyes opened wider than my sockets would allow. There, religion represented a group of people with similar faith beliefs. You found Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Muslims cohabitating. People were at church not by social force, but because there was a message. So, I began to listen to the messages. In this new world of enlightenment, I began to realize that to me, religion and my faith were far less about a man walking on water, or a bush burning on a mountainside. It was about taking care of yourself and others while respecting each other along the way. Religions just sliced it different ways.
Later on, when my parents died, I searched and searched for that "community" that my childhood church had offered me. I had no parents, no parental figures, and for the first time, I was very, very lonely. My church at the time never once lifted a receiver to reach out to me. My childhood church had long since abandoned me. It all finally clicked...
I gave the better part of my life singing, making music, giving money and generally supporting "church". The one and only time I needed an ear or a hug, that same "church" abandoned me. But two weeks later, I got a letter in the mail explaining my duty to tithe.
I'm sorry, but fuck you.
Ever since that day, I quit "church." I have restructured what "faith" means to me, and re-examined what I think started the whole mess we're in now. Do you really think Jesus wanted his body strung on crosses across big buildings all over the world, being exploited for donations to keep those same buildings open? Maybe so.
Maybe he just wanted us to hear what he had to say: Be nice. The rest, pretty much is what "religion" has told us we needed to know... The same religion that took my talent and money, abandoned me in my time of need, and then asked for more. Very Christian.
This post isn't to judge your religion, you faith or beliefs. I understand religion means something different to us all, and speaks to each of our needs differently. I just felt it necessary to reflect on how religion spoke (or didn't) to me.
In a weird way, I think a person's religious beliefs say much more about the person than their political affiliation or race would. Faith is something we own, but religion is something (in most cases) we choose.
I grew up Southern Baptist in a rather small, Southern town located in the midst of a rural, swampy area of hard-working, middle class (or lower) Americans. I will venture to say, for them, they chose their faith through a religion based on their neighbors...their community. It was rare that any non-work related function didn't center around the church or happen with other church members. It was almost expected that you were to be at church on Wednesdays and Sundays. There was a level of expectation that you silently followed or you were otherwise excluded. Sort of like Club Med for poor Southern Baptists - just without the body scrubs, and with chicken bog instead of chicken fricassee.
When I moved to Germany as a student, my eyes opened wider than my sockets would allow. There, religion represented a group of people with similar faith beliefs. You found Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Muslims cohabitating. People were at church not by social force, but because there was a message. So, I began to listen to the messages. In this new world of enlightenment, I began to realize that to me, religion and my faith were far less about a man walking on water, or a bush burning on a mountainside. It was about taking care of yourself and others while respecting each other along the way. Religions just sliced it different ways.
Later on, when my parents died, I searched and searched for that "community" that my childhood church had offered me. I had no parents, no parental figures, and for the first time, I was very, very lonely. My church at the time never once lifted a receiver to reach out to me. My childhood church had long since abandoned me. It all finally clicked...
I gave the better part of my life singing, making music, giving money and generally supporting "church". The one and only time I needed an ear or a hug, that same "church" abandoned me. But two weeks later, I got a letter in the mail explaining my duty to tithe.
I'm sorry, but fuck you.
Ever since that day, I quit "church." I have restructured what "faith" means to me, and re-examined what I think started the whole mess we're in now. Do you really think Jesus wanted his body strung on crosses across big buildings all over the world, being exploited for donations to keep those same buildings open? Maybe so.
Maybe he just wanted us to hear what he had to say: Be nice. The rest, pretty much is what "religion" has told us we needed to know... The same religion that took my talent and money, abandoned me in my time of need, and then asked for more. Very Christian.
This post isn't to judge your religion, you faith or beliefs. I understand religion means something different to us all, and speaks to each of our needs differently. I just felt it necessary to reflect on how religion spoke (or didn't) to me.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Mind Yo' Own Freakin' Business
Well, my pets ... my dreams of starting my own business is coming (very, very slowly) to fruition. The swirling ideas are pulling together in my head, and the resulting vision is pretty darn palpable!
It's scary to think that the fate of my financial life and overall livelihood is dependent on some of those very fickle, unruly and generally ungrateful people I rant about in my blog. But, I have a vision, even for the morons, and it will succeed.
My family is full of entrepreneurs and go-getters, but the one person that has most influenced me is my late grandfather Hayes (most everyone called him C.R. or Rudy). Back in the day, the story goes that he was an icebox salesman -- the kind of icebox that you put ice in rather than plug it in. When the refrigerator made its debut, instead of depressing himself with the other Henny Pennies, he decided to moonlight as a refrigerator salesman and market to all his existing icebox customers. The overwhelming success of this move set him and his fledgling family up fairly comfortably - although I wouldn't call it well-off by any stretch.
WWII was thrown in the mix, too, and after he was discharged, he took the money he'd saved and, with my grandmother, opened up my hometown's first drive-in diner -- the E&R Drive-In. It was there that my mother, a teenaged curb hop on roller skates, met my father, and the result - two children later - was yours truly.
The success of the E&R brought a good deal of prosperity and notoriety to my grandfather. He soon began to dabble in other endeavors before finally resting on large-scale real estate. As my grandmother aged, and her seven children took their toll on her, he felt the need for a more lucrative and sustainable income. The real estate business took off very well and Hayes & Hayes Realty is what set the legacy up for the whole family, well beyond his years.
I recount all this story only to say that my grandfather's entrepreneurial spirit speaks to me deeply. He never knew anything BUT owning his own business and forging his own way. I feel such a connection with that spirit that I feel no matter what I choose to do, I cannot and will not fail.
This is something I need to do folks.
It's scary to think that the fate of my financial life and overall livelihood is dependent on some of those very fickle, unruly and generally ungrateful people I rant about in my blog. But, I have a vision, even for the morons, and it will succeed.
My family is full of entrepreneurs and go-getters, but the one person that has most influenced me is my late grandfather Hayes (most everyone called him C.R. or Rudy). Back in the day, the story goes that he was an icebox salesman -- the kind of icebox that you put ice in rather than plug it in. When the refrigerator made its debut, instead of depressing himself with the other Henny Pennies, he decided to moonlight as a refrigerator salesman and market to all his existing icebox customers. The overwhelming success of this move set him and his fledgling family up fairly comfortably - although I wouldn't call it well-off by any stretch.
WWII was thrown in the mix, too, and after he was discharged, he took the money he'd saved and, with my grandmother, opened up my hometown's first drive-in diner -- the E&R Drive-In. It was there that my mother, a teenaged curb hop on roller skates, met my father, and the result - two children later - was yours truly.
The success of the E&R brought a good deal of prosperity and notoriety to my grandfather. He soon began to dabble in other endeavors before finally resting on large-scale real estate. As my grandmother aged, and her seven children took their toll on her, he felt the need for a more lucrative and sustainable income. The real estate business took off very well and Hayes & Hayes Realty is what set the legacy up for the whole family, well beyond his years.
I recount all this story only to say that my grandfather's entrepreneurial spirit speaks to me deeply. He never knew anything BUT owning his own business and forging his own way. I feel such a connection with that spirit that I feel no matter what I choose to do, I cannot and will not fail.
This is something I need to do folks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
