Being A Sensitive Man, I Want to Raise a Son Sensitive to His Own Emotions.

When I come home after having the privilege of spending a day with my son. I usually break down into tears. Tears of no velocity or gauge. I cry out of frustration, for his well being, for the hope of our relationship finding the recognition it deserves. I cry because if I keep my emotions bottled up, I won't have another way to express myself. I have fought in court, I have stood my ground with anyone who has doubted my son's ability to speak for himself. I have nurtured and respected his mother and given her every chance I can think of to accept that he deserves the best of our ability to care for him. I have been faced with overcoming an impassible wall of deceit, manipulation and mistrust. I have been placed in a circumstance as a white man to fight for my mixed child against a woman of color who has had her own issues being abused, mislead and mistreated. My son is only six. He has very little opportunity to escape what oppresses him. He has no one, to my knowledge, besides myself capable of offering him the opportunity to vent, express and liberate from the turmoil that he is suppressed by. Yet, he strives and yearns to be a very well-mannered, respectful, and kind-hearted young man. He is incredible in this respect. Going above and beyond to meet people where they stand and to share something positive that catches his eye. Even when he has something more distressing to express, he will look to change the subject to something more positive, as if to cushion the blow for anyone else around. I love this about him. He is a lot like me, and I appreciate how he does what a lot of us do, he looks out for other people's needs before he thinks about himself. But, my son is only 6 years old. He deserves more space to express how he feels in the moment, he needs more attention to know that he is doing the right thing and above all else, he needs the opportunity to know that his needs are just as important as anyone elses. So who spoke and said he doesn't deserve these few inalienable rights? A decision was made that lacked certain precaution and made an assumption that I was the one who was a bad influence. I do not have the opportunity to easily blame anyone involved of knowing how much their participation has interfered with the security of my child. I am unable to condone any of the things that have perpetuated his misery and further confused my desire to be fully involved in his life. So, my son acts out...in school, being the only outlet he has, away from home. At home, he watches TV, which is his way of being somewhere else, and the household's way of giving him something to do. He plays computer games, he plays in his room with his toys, but he is almost always alone. When I grew up, I had a little sister, so very rarely, unless I was in my own room, did I have the opportunity to be alone. One thing that taught me was the importance of communicating. That and it instilled in me a great trust and respect for women for so many reasons. Mainly because being sensitive to ones feelings, and needs makes it easier to see where other people are coming from. To see their position allows us to understand what their influence over a given situation will be. I wish I could share with my son this sensitivity our family can share with others so easily. The stories of some of the women I still feel the influence of could shed light on the ways to optimistically find positive influences that he will keep the rest of his life. I have a child who is a public school student in West Philadelphia. He goes to a school with very little racial diversity. Mainly it's religious, over half of his class being Muslim. Something I think could lend to a certain dynamic that our differences could redeem our similarities. But it is still a cold and strict environment to be in. Public school is not yet the nurturing intellectual institution, with the right funding, it could be. But I have met my son's teacher and her demeanor and her sensitivity lend me to feel her influence is sound. My son still a boy, fights on the playground and likes to act tough and be dominant. All things I learned to do myself growing up. It's the nature of being a child in our country, where no one is given a fair chance to express themself, and suffering often goes unnoticed as indifference or disinterest. So, it is left to the home, the family and the world around a child to teach them that their feelings are valid. My father was a social worker till I was 5, so I always was taught to embrace how I felt. I was encouraged to be nurturing, as not to overpower my little sister, and I was grounded and given time outs when I was too mean to her, never beaten. I was not an easy kid to get along with, and as a brother, I was very demanding and overbearing, I would find easier to overpower her, rather make an agreement over television shows, music, and other things we would have to share growing up. I learned a lot as a kid. Especially, that I always felt better treating people nicely, and looking out for other people's needs. I always had somebody around me to remind me that how I influenced the situation ahead was going to effect how I was going to feel later. If it was made worse by my actions, I would always feel worse about it, if I was doing something bad. So, I learned to pay attention to what my actions were, compared to what I was saying. I somehow made it to being a father with a universal knowledge of how important it is for us to express ourselves, as individuals, and how important it is to be sensitive to each of our feelings. I used to sit with my friends at any age and pry into their walled up, pensive moments, and chew on their expressions to ease their strides into their personal vortexes of emotion. I always wanted to know how they were feeling. I would walk friends through what they were feeling, and get into trouble for missing class, just so they had somebody to talk to. I have always been this way and I have always gained more personally from sacrificing my moment, to listen to someone else's feelings. At the age of 19, I found it so interesting how most of our experiences parallel somebody else's and just by listening how easily it is to solve both issues just by figuring out the similarities. I found these skills I have cherished for so long essential to not over-reacting during my relationship with my son's mom, and after our relationship ended, intrinsic to fortifying the development that he needs and that his feelings do matter. That's something that he was able to absorb and assimilate for as long as I can tell. So back to his way of turning off the sobs to be sensitive to other people's feelings in the moment. As much of an effort it is for him to hold back the tears and I have seen him do it in quite a few doosies. I find those emotions come out anyway later in much more undefined and explosive ways that I just don't want to see my son have to go through. If he is given the opportunity to express himself more openly, I have seen him transform into a sensitive, caring and composed young man, who is able to develop and assimilate the most intimate abilities to include, nurture and support others around him. I have this confidence in his ability. So, I pray that soon, we are able to reach out to him and say Aviv, you deserve better and we think it's time you were allowed to lean on us, instead of having to deal with being told that no one cares. Without making our influences on him valid and fair, we leave him with nothing but empty demands and unfair value misleading a fine young man.

Love from A Horrible Father.

As the Joy of the winter holidays is about to begin this season, I am about to be segregated from my son during them for the third time in so many years. My son and I have been very close, since his conception. His development, something I had used as motivation to show the world around me, the best of my abilities. Any insecurity that I felt, anything I felt incapable of overcoming lent me to look to the past and to refine my ability and focus to lift away the superficial and solidify my own foundation by my own actions. While my son was in utero, I had the opportunity to get to know and include a woman, who, under normal circumstances would have never introduced herself into my life. I, in my own right, began to open myself again to feelings of love, and respect and compassion, that for a time had been made dormant because of trauma I and a friend had suffered a year prior. Together, we shared the intimacies that a pregnant couple share to compensate for the fears that arise from such internal transformation. I felt very detached most of the pregnancy, as if I was supposed to wait, with nothing to do until he came out. I was surprised to find out, that at 5 months, a person would move inside his mother's belly, and at 6 months was interacting with the outside world. These moments most of us do not consider, or speak about often, but they are the earliest memories I have of accepting that being a father, no matter how hard I perceived it to be, just happens, whether you want to be good at it or not. When my son was born, I made pancakes and held his mother's hand the whole 14 hours she was in labor. I made sure at the end, it was her effort that brought him into this world, not a doctor's incision. While we had no way of preparing for his introduction into the world, within three weeks, all three of us had adjusted to everything that needed to be considered to meet our own needs. With little sleep and time to take care of personal needs, a shower, a new outfit and some love making made the previous month and a half of no sleep and the bare minimum simply wash away. A liberated woman, his mother still wanted to be, my time at home after work, lead to diaper changing and baby entertaining till bed time. We lived comfortably for almost a year, baby had enough clothing and people to care for him, as mothers around us provided hand me downs and infrastructure to make sure both mom and babe were cared for, I worked to pay bills, and utilities. We didn't have much, but the time we spent together will forever show a validity in the worth of what you do have, not what you think you can get. I lost my job, when he was three months old, and so had a tremendous time the next year spending most of our time together, exploring and figuring out how to move around and understanding the world around us. My son and I spent every waking moment together. Those were our most important contributions and because most family time is done in the house, very rarely do others have the opportunity to do anything but look in and admire it from a much more distant point of view. It's not easy raising children, it's isolating, it's self-defeating, and with no rules it's impossible to know what's the right way to do it. Unless you throw away everything you've ever been taught about the right way to do things, you will never understand why I enjoyed it so much. When a child comes into the world, you have a clean slate, literally. You can't deny your own mistakes, or shortcomings, but at the same time, you have the opportunity not to repeat anything that you know wasn't effective when you were growing up. I grew up with both of my parents in my life, they are still married after 39 years. I understand the importance of respecting your partner, supporting each other, and maintaining open communication with those we are closest to because of them. They rarely ever put a hand on me, but made sure that I understood the boundaries they set for me so that I was not confused about what was acceptable and what isn't. My sister and I found opportunity at certain times to speak openly with them about what our needs were and how to work better at meeting them. Growing up, I was not sheltered, but given every opportunity to understand how things worked around me and what it was like to live other places besides where I lived. Drugs, not a huge problem in my neighborhood, showed their effects and the lack of other assistance across the city I would travel through everyday to school. By bus, by subway and by train, I would see the effects of abandoned houses and the versatility of the people who lived in impoverished areas to make ends meet, and still add some beauty and ownership to they're living there. I did not have the opportunity to look away, or to be disconnected like in the suburbs. It was up front and personal, everyday and undeniable the lengths people would go to make ends meet and find something better in the world. These are the sort of things I must live up to to feel like I have contributed to the things shared with me growing up. I have never been able to find much worth in hiding and never been able to keep myself quiet for very long. In light of this, I have been ingrained with certain ground rules that I follow to show how I do not control others actions, nor will I take responsibility for them. Something I have great pride in for providing me with the opportunity to making meaningful contributions and sustaining positive growth in whatever I have participated in. As Mahatma Ghandi would show through out his life, sometimes not participating is the best way to show how to do something better. A year and almost 3 months ago, I left Philadelphia and 2 weeks after arriving in Southern California decided to establish residency. I had just spent 14 months separated from my son for all but two hours a week for a supervised visit that was established and maintained to keep my son safe from any harm I was alleged to have committed by his mother. The actual events that the court was requested to monitor had to do with allegations I had made about abuse, while my son was in his mother's custody. I alone found signs of abuse that his mother would not acknowledge for weeks, if not months, and so decided that putting my son in harms way was not acceptable for me to turn a blind eye and not do anything about, any further. I made a formal request for a social worker to see my son, something I do not see any worth in doing, but one of those evils that no one has the right to diminish the need for. After weeks of not seeing one, at a time that the City office was under going great scrutiny for its inability to keep children out of harm's way and the size of their social worker's caseloads, I found a Child Therapist who was willing to meet with my son and I. In three hours, he observed not only my anguish for the well-being of my son, but also began to map out a progression with him about what was being done to him, what he could emulate about his aggressors and what he thought was wrong about it. I watched my son transcend these experiences in a three week period. We spent a week and a half well beyond the confines of even its emotional impact on him, at which point he turned to me and said, "Thank you, daddy. Thank you for letting me be a little boy again." Nothing can or will ever compare to being able to provide this opportunity for my child. By the end of the week, I stood before a judge in a courtroom and was reprimanded for separating my son from his mother. In the eyes of the court, no harm can come of a child in the custody of the mother and I had done nothing to prove that I had not interfered with the sanctity of mother and child. His mother is very good about being quick to answer in situations she could be cornered. I never could do much more than deny her allegations except with what defined the circumstances around actual events. I did my best to do this, so it is clear I have had no intention of belittling the efforts she does put forward, but as to protect myself from false accusation. This is something I believe is in contrast from what we perceive normally, and may have confused the court into thinking circumstances were different from what was presented. When I decided not to return home, I was fed up with the nearly impossible task of opening the court's ear to the circumstance that in anyone else's observation was easy to see up front. I had a hard decision to make, I had the opportunity to wait around somewhere I was familiar, where people know me, but without any reason to believe circumstances would change. Instead, I found find myself around people I love and being able to have physical separation away from the abuse I had endured just to try to share with my son why its important to support each other and not be quiet about what is done to us. I finally had the opportunity to force the issue by not participating any further, until it got better. It took three weeks, after I didn't return, for his mother to call me up and blame me for being horrible for not being complacent. I hung up, and not until ten days of not allowing her to speak to me disrespectfully, was I allowed to make it clear what I expected before I participated any further. To protect the progression of events I was forcing the issue on, I tried to dictate how we were to negate any other interference by other parties or judgments that could undo our agreement to work this out together. First - I didn't want my son subjected anymore to the unsupervised menace of a man whom she had living in her house close to as long as we hadn't lived together. Second - We make an agreement that the courts were not to interfere in our lives any further, that we make an agreement to how we both participate in providing for our son's needs and not undermine our own. Third - That we nullify any other orders that were made in effort to sway the courts opinion about the other. This lasted just long enough for something to ruffle his mother's feather, and then the moorings began to crumble under the instigation of uncertainty, instead of their strengthening with perseverance. Something I have been managing to deflect all on my own, but seen everyone else laid victim by it's broad constriction of view. I actually saw my son more between December and March of this past school year, than I had in a year and half prior to leaving. Then my son's mother allowed her ex-boyfriend back into the house, and I was cut off for appearances, not because I had broken any agreement or arrangement. I have since been cut off from my child, completely but one phone call in September and two pictures since he started Kindergarten this school year. He was upset with me because I hadn't seen him in so long and that we haven't been able to talk. I know he feels overwhelmed by the circumstances that surround him and our helplessness to find anyone who we can entrust with our confidence, both individually and collectively. Mostly, I know he wishes to move on from what's been inflicted upon him and that would be completed with my being in his life again. His mother, however, has no reason to embrace any of the advantages of this. She has full custody and the right to deny my participation in our son's life for any reason. This was granted to her by the courts. If I had any request I would make, it would be to recognize the sensitive and subtle way I approach this subject. I wish to convey my intentions and positions as not to influence any of the injustice to escalate any further. I do however see my disadvantage in protecting my son from further hardship as unacceptable to endure or allow to continue without saying something first. I do not mind as a man about to be thirty to be isolated from circumstances confused by those involved. For my son to be held at bay and in harms way, I do, however, find a shortsightedness that those put into power have little advantage to overlook any further. With Thanks Giving a week away and Christmas and the New Year in the not so distant future, I am hopeful that I can influence this get better, but would also like to reach out to those families with similar experiences, so that we all don't feel so lonely and isolated anymore. Families are important because they give us opportunities to repeat mistakes we didn't learn better from and not to be isolated with just one person's influence. Most importantly with family, there's always someone close at hand that can explain the reason for things and why we all must stick together until it all works out. Otherwise, slavery, war and hunger become things we perpetuate, rather than what we've overcome. I think the things that made this country strong are available even to those who have just begun to call it home, and if anything's to be learned from those inalienable rights of each citizen being undermined for better surveillance of anyone's life. I believe it's the importance of solidifying the Bill of Rights as the foundation for what this country is made of. I want my son to have the opportunity to see that through his own eyes, not from how things used to be.

When I'm Thinking, Does California Forget About Itself?

When I stepped into the sunshine of Southern California, a year ago, I knew I was standing on the richest soil next to the Big Apple. I didn't question that more money was made here than all but whole countries. The only exception for Japan, Germany, and the United Kingdom. In 2005, I read from work done on www.cafr1.com, Los Angeles, alone, had well over 11 trillion dollars in recirculating surplus. Yet, I just witnessed a year of people losing services because the Governor couldn't find enough to fund the state economy. Between Californians and the U.S. Congress I've watched Nancy Pelosi start off by saying I hope a National Healthcare plan is passed by the end of the summer. Now, a whole month after summer has ended, I have watched a whole chamber full of adults bicker and discourage any referendum, so it seems the two sides have nothing to talk about. The biggest opponents to the manifestation of the legislation, are the only ones who would benefit from the extra funding. Is it not enough? When health care reform came up in the 90's, it was stymied at the tune of why are we allowing government further into our lives? Now with the added persuasion of adding to the self-pride of our nation, we have given our highest post, to an African without enslaving him. His wife, a full blooded American, and her mother a permanent resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. What exactly do the American people think lesser of you? When two factions take sides, and forget about all the onlookers, does it matter what you have to say about each other to the other? When you see the benefit of making an act, but decide not to establish that for the backlash of the industry you are actually suggesting to subsidize, nationally. What do we think when you say higher premiums will have to be instated for those already paying for their own complacency? Weren't you just telling me this was supposed to free me? When I asked myself why am I not pounding down the doors of those who represent me? I wondered, would Nancy Pelosi feel more motivated knowing she was going against her word? Or does her work just give advantage to making it something else. I never voted for somebody so I could wait for them to work lesser than. I sat there in May, finding myself completely unemployed, my insurance just canceled with a bit of optimism in my tears. If you, my now established Representation in the United States Congress, if you allow yourself the advantage of what the people you represent stand by, you will be able to enact any law that makes their lives better and we, I believe unequivocally would sustain your post because not only are we support, Optimism would replace pessimistic shadowing of the actual benefit to the industry that seems replete in impending demise. $862 billion dollars extra to the Healthcare Industry is a far cry from negating their ability to run a business. $86.2 billion dollars adds that much a year to the security of this industry that just a few years ago was so mismanaged than hospitals were unable to handle the doctors just finished Med school, more hospitals still closing than those being openned. So, without belittling their addiction to backpedal people's inquiries into how does this industry really function. Let me first say, I want to support you. I think I have a wonderful ability to see where appreciation is warranted and reformation dignified. So, I am well aware, as I am sure the health care industry will quickly make note, that a good percentage of those paying for heath coverage will see a good advantage and I want to emphasize Good advantage, to opting or changing to a National Coverage plan that makes it easier on the individual to afford health care that entitles us to substantial heath coverage in the event we become ill and need treatment. I can imagine most doctors can see the advantage to increasing the number of people who have coverage lessening the percentage of people who find themselves in making emergency care, their only care, because they actually waited to deal with a health issue until their body was broken. A hospital I'm sure is going to see the added cushion of subsidizing coverage advantageous, as more patients with coverage leveling the ebb and flow of facilitating business into the black, again. Imagine an insurance carrier appreciating the extra security of the American people ensuring their bottom line. I pale to compare their rhetoric, rather a better ability to maintaining a high level of care for all they serve. I am aware that insurance is supposed to be as competitive as the stock market. Those being big shoes to fill, are we to really to believe that more money is lost by securing subsidy for an entire industry, lends to insurance companies making less money? As the stock market pays more in the long term, than day to day, wouldn't insurance companies fair better keeping a few billion established solidly every year, just for having more people covered, than solely relying on those who can afford the $400 or so a month it costs to maintain a policy for an individual. In ten years, without having to start over, isn't that just $862 billion dollars, as an industry, you are being offered to circulate with the rest of the gobs and gobs of millions and billions you have been able to perpetuate up to this point? Having watched this debate with an eye on the door, I realized the vulgarity before I walked into the theatre. I am to be an observer of something that could benefit my and millions of others lives and you'd rather have the American people sit back and watch one belittle the other so it becomes hard to even fathom for you, our representatives, that their really is a viable option to be considered? I wonder what effect it would have if we suspended session until you had the advantage of hearing what everyone of your constituents felt about getting support with their rising medical costs, with the advantage of getting coverage, that they were never able to get before. Finding yourself at the table of those in need is a much different position than those who are getting paid, I understand. Don't let me over step your already determined boundary. I hope to influence your ability to see optimism in doing something beyond what you may have been able to notice on your own. I have experience handling state subsidized health care. Never for myself, as I am too able bodied and as I expect white, to be able to be considered able to qualify for coverage, but my son and his mother were covered and are still covered since his conception. I wonder could my experience though as a young person lend to the motivation of acting with what you have, rather than making unclear what you can't use without others' establishing their own support. I have spent the last year in the second largest city in the United States, where the municipality of Los Angeles has slashed $131 million from its faculty, services and infrastructure of public education, while the city and state government have established a lawsuit so far from handling the stalemate because no one wants to educate poor indignant folk. I able to remember a time when the school district I grew up in 3000 miles away was facing $141 million and $180 million dollar deficits in consecutive years. Instead of saying, "Oh yes, massah! Thank you massah! I appreciate you giving me air to breath, and light to see with, massah!" I witness of 2000 students who congregated outside of city hall in Philadelphia (1996) to show our representatives both locally and statewide how much its students care about the system they navigate each and everyday. Standing together, the police department still considers it one of the most peaceful actions ever to form amongst the daily migrations of this Country's first Capital. When a "Rainy Day Fund" was established instead of funding the gaps in the subsidies of Public Education, we watched as kids found no heat in their classrooms, over $400 million establishing itself in the state's reciprocating and open slush fund. To find any governments ability to subsidize more than it has before, all we usually have to do is look at it's quarterly or annual financial report. Many annual comprehensive financial reports clearly showing how much, in Surplus, that agency has reciprocating. Lending the idea and ability of even more growth in future years, not less. By having a pile of cash to invest, a reciprocity manifests that increases growth of whatever it funds, and returns rarely negate the educated and established dividend of market security. So, when a mayor says, "No, we won't fund this because it's the state's obligation," or the Governor says, "We cannot authorize any more allocation of the People's funds." Let us all stand up and openly profess, "Mayor, why not suggest where the money could come from, not where it cannot be authorized. Mr Governor, We The People have spoken." If it's not to your face, openly testifying their personal or collective needs and willingness to share with you what you may not understand otherwise. We at work, on the bus, in the grocery stores and malls, on the streets, and while we live our own lives, all consider each others' needs and means with our own. If you cannot hear what we say, when we say it? I would appreciate the opportunity to tell you when to look, where to look and what you should expect to hear, just to get the message clear. You might be surprised to learn the advantage of taking care of those in need, rather than maintaining behavior that has always allowed you to turn away your ear. In the end, a decillionaire has 3 and 1/3 more to the power ten than a trillionaire, and I hope the motivation concedes behavior need not maintain conscience about our responsibility to the planet, individual and facilitation of our collective ability any longer.

No More Fighting

It's taken me till today To get better at not blaming others. To Understand you know more than I do. Mine eyes are for me to see. Were it up to me I'd get bored of what I was saying before I've convinced you to listen to what I meant. So who's too small to talk back? I spent my whole life getting better, it took me two minutes to be born. Was it a curse or my first breath, the first blessing, That was all I needed from us all. A man with a gun knows how strong, but a man who understnads and listens, In his palm, the gun could fall. If the bullets speak in response, to something, Where'd the argument start? If you won't listen to me because I'm too small? Who's to say you hear anything by standing too tall? I've fought my baby sister, friends, my parents, kids I didn't even know, dults, Ministers, maybe not my own. politicians, but didn't open my mouth teachers, cause who knows, police, no that man does not need another blow. Doctors, by no fault of their own. Masons, well, silence fell. Shriners, um allah for all? Catholics, well, don't hate it all. Protestants, english men deserve another call. Muslims, a man deserves to tell. Christians, even Mormans, and especially Unitarians. course, who raised me at all? Yet, to you all, I still found a piece of me inside of you to hold onto. The greatest obstacle I've encountered in life should be myself. Yet, with tooth and nail, I've managed to mangle all that I hold dear. Attempting to unfold reality beyond before. You just wanted my grace. So, what's worth fighting for? You take what I give you, and counter and trace, till nothing is left, except, of course, waste. To conquer supposed to include won, But when said and done, Who knows where they come from. When a man bent on smashing another to smitherenes, One word could deflate his motives, no harm done to anyone, not him, not me. How do we put up with, Why don't we wait out for it? Was it permission we bid for, this ability the ultimate from the rest? Again, Is it me you must listen to, or what's inside of you? If Ghandi said it was Love the only true manifestation in the universe, Negativity, still nothing at all. Who's to say nurturing that need detracts at all from the progress of a masterpiece beyond everything kept small.

I Remember Being Born, I Saw You Come out.

Baby You Came into this World, As if you'd been lynched. Heart rate faint They were going to cut Your momma's poompoom, As if teamwork wasn't only your's (you two) Till late. Just to sample fate, It was my dyress, Which left breathing, A test. My lungs unconvinced, Necessity, at rest. You, untwirled and unsquoze, Filled the room with the most beautiful cry, As Red a face can get. I looked into your eyes, Your embilical, my lance to confess, Separation, Impalement, Relied. Brand new, Both your wound, And air to your skin. We gazed at eachother, Through all eternity, a new beginning, Your guidance begun. I remember, How blurry my first gaze. Unfamiliarity, but the world within, Nothing akin. My mother's swollen body, My first glimpse, As they rolled me by, When. But I made sure that, She above her bed. I had but a moment, My first connection, them. I still saw her, though. Eyes hollow, Jaundice set it. Skin so tawt. Through the foggy window, As the rolled me by her bed, To partitioned, Sterile, somewhere. My lungs burning, Air, forcing them. Partitioned Procedured without you, Mama. You, Asleep, Just them. No one knowing that I'm speaking, can't even listen. If all I was supposed to, Fill my bags with hot air, Oxygen in the blood again. They kept me on a ventilator for 24 hrs, back then. But having been forced to watch them work for me. I knew how to breath, the second breath in. They weened me off ventilation, meticulously progressed, Thin. I lived away from my mother for six weeks, As they called it healing, My isolet kept my temperature in. Freedom, My mama's nipple, Suckle, A hard thing to work in. Had the doctor's Waited any longer, "Who knows" would have made it, She and I'd be dead. Were it not for one doctor, A black man, My savior, In. Not many endure What premature beginnigs Win. Finding myself struggling to Match the rhythm of a machine, Only tolerance, Patience, Win. What elation We al must have felt. No breathing tube Still in. The same way I started breathing, A bicycle, My transportation, then. But before I lent my tricycle, My parents, Walking, A chore to them. Imagine, Finding me, Making do, Just showing off for a friend. See man, When you came out, All wrapped in your embilical. That last push? Left your ability in. Your momma gave it her all, And we got you, in the end. I hope someday, You and I can talk About how blurry the world was, When we first stepped in!

About a Son, for a Father Part 1

In the movie Baraka, the "Balinese Kecak Chant" is a moment to be reckonded with. All men of the tribe, all focusing their energy in a straight forward movement, moving centrifigally in both clock-wise and counter clock-wise directions. Together. In unison. All by the call of the one elder to lead the group. But the circle splits and half of the men are flattened by the overpowering cackle and taunt of the other men standing, and directing themselves like machine guns and fighter jets strafing young men flat in their tracks. All said and done, they seem little compared to their counter parts. This ceremony has lead me to better investigate the ideas that lend to how men are supposed to be. Inertly we know the repercussion of negative actions, but more often than not, men and women will expect certain behavior over other behaviors. As if by sure chance, the men standing, fall, and the men flattened raise up in their own empowered will and effortlessly engauge their kin with the same resolve and refuge that their relatives had directed towards them. This act of conflicts both great and small, both foreign and domestic, all under the watchful eye of an elder who will call for each change in the mantra. Fathers, sons, cousins, uncles, grandfathers and grandsons, like those who came before them. All together and all unequivately different. The triumph that they're together, generations, living on the same things that have sustained and nourished their ancestors. I met a young father the other day who deserved my audience. Like most fathers who live with out their children, we had many things in common. Drama, abuse, and verbal retorts that would corrode the slickest PVC laid by the best. I found myself just watching, listening...Remembering. How hard it had been for me, when my son was born. Managing my own life was hard enough, but it took me forever in 6 months to just get used to the idea that I was going to be a daddy. I remember sitting there, no way I could miss the little one forming in her womb. Finally, one day it just dawned on me, if it's a given you grow in there. And I've been growing out here for a couple decades by that point, it couldn't be so hard having to do it with someone so up in my face. My life went from what am I gonna do about, or for myself, to including someone else. Now I understand we all do things differently and some things come to others harder than the rest of us, but together, we have always overcome the hardest circumstances, why not little ol' me? What could be so bad about making my intention help this manifestation, this beautiful child of ours, our past and future made easy, cause now, it could learn to eat for itself. Who would want to question his worth? Neither his mother nor I have ever not made our best intentions to focus on his own. But here I am, having surpassed his 5 birthday in March, living 3000 miles away from my little boy because his mother and I cannot talk without the 3 syllable spoken being an insult. I'm living away from that, listening to a young man swear by his own convictions, and in the same breath devising the next way to stay at par with his child's mother. No amount of judgement from others will ever be able to understand how much this man wants to be there for his child. All of us fathers can remember how unnerving it was to handed this human being incapable of lifting its own head, and having to figure out how not to get poop on our fingers as the sure mechanics of sealing another poop screen around our child's behind becomes something above rocket science. Having the opportunity of that first year together, we, he, me, She made a lot of sense. Without a job (I was fired when he was 3 months old), without anything beyond the bills paid, and our bellies full. We added cable, and a few amenities never thought possible on just unemployment, wic, and 200 dollars of food stamps. Yet, a year later things became so hectic and nasty that I began my ever present struggle of worrying about Aviv's well being. While at the same time ducking the nastiest rhetoric that has left my family unable to resolve this conflict, but everyday watch it get worse. For any readers just happening upon my post, I would like to clarify. This is the worst, most horrific place to be as a father. In any case, the best I could do was manage a place on my own, make my own business and handle the world with Aviv every couple days, or every other week. He and I dealt with a lot when he became a year old. Mama, while she has the best intentions, needs someone to let her in on why dad's are so important. Or weren't the groceries brought upstairs every week. Diaper duty was a great contrast to you two, while he suckled. A man becomes a man by the men he has around him. I'm not allowed around my son, without his mother's permission. A feud that was sparked by real alarm on my part and a decision imparted to her that has left no room for Aviv to have any idea of the benefits I was imparted as a child. Growing up where I did, in the time I did, gave me the most open and diverse world at my very finger tips. Everything growing up was about who people were, what they had contributed and why every person is so important to be able to contribute and sustain the whole. I went to public school and was able to attend each school my family thought appropriate. My parent's are white. His mother, not. Something I hold as a glimmer of what growing up in a city will entitle a person to look past any personal limitations and see why the tree is grander holding the soil, than sun light could keep it from flying off into space. We could have struggled living together, or left to handle our own residences. But the worst thing we did was deny that struggling to grasp the full picture of raising a child. Of finding out why it is so important to have both parents around to answer all of a child's questions would, could and will take our perpetual fighting into space, a place where it can't do anything but allow the real important stuff to take over for the real dumb shit. We never did. We never made ourselves to step up to the challenge. If only he were 18, 2 years ago, he could have let us both go and cared for himself in the ways that only we know how to mend ourselves. He was only 3. They would taunt me, on sundays about 9:35/9:40, in the morning. What do you think he knows? He's so little. He can't even talk right. And at 11:30 on the dot, he would walk out of my life again, until the next sunday. I hadn't done anything, tried to stick up for him. Tried to put forth my step to intiate those who work on these things daily. But slipped thru a crack. Managed myself, and him, but in a construct so far from anything the system has any idea how to engauge. He seemed ok to them and she and I more a conflict than they could see any deeper. I became an example, I am now one of many fathers not givien a chance to be heard in family court. I am sitting at the anniversary of the worst of what transcended my life as a full time single dad, to the lowest I have ever been. I was probably trying to find someone who would listen to Aviv rather than just to me. I found a truly gifted person in this respect. A man who had taught at my elementary school for generations. A man who sat with Aviv and I in his home for 3 hrs and fed us cookies till we spilt our milk. In these circumstances its not the most profound moments that reveal the greatest strength. It's anything at all. And Mr. V sat with Aviv ever so patiently and openly that afternoon. Allowing the story to unfold in both actions and gestures, we walked out of his house having found that we were not only distraught, but he could now very clearly articulate that he did not like it. It took another 5 days or so to have a city social worker interview Aviv, that by this time he was so far resolved in his own reconstruction of his experience that there was no way they could see anything wrong with him. He was by and large conscious that he had been upset, why he was upset, that the abuse he had experienced was not because of something he had done, but that it had happened to him and he did not like it. He was resolved, but too pink to be able to just tell anyone. He knew by this time that he only need trust those who earned it, and I knew how hard it had been to get him to express anything more than a blood curdling scream. We spent the following year and half held to only one two hour visit a week on sunday mornings at the Family Court Building in Philadelphia. He spent the first 6 weeks very confused and rightfully betrayed. I would look at him and have to take in the first outburst he would make in a week at the dishonor of having returned to a place before it's possession could be resolved to something better. The first time I saw him, he exclaimed, "How could you?!" But, remember he was only three, and after a few months he was resolved to this being the only time I have with his Daddy, we would play board games and build structures out of building blocks with our alloted time slot. This became such a routine that his mother would find it imperative to limit even these short and regimented arrangements that by last august, I hadn't seen him for 6 weeks, and wasn't going to until his mother deemed acceptable. Having to wait another six months to have the audience of a judge, I needed something else. By the end of August, I was somewhere other than Philadelphia, with the proposal that I could stay where I was, sitting in my lap. I spent what was meant to be a vacation away from it all with the notion that I entertain the idea of staying and finding work, instead of traveling back to my home. I thought long and hard. I finally accepted the idea that no matter how I channeled my energy. No amount of energy I expended was going to help this situation get any better. So instead of trying, I would stay, with the notion that only if I got a job working with children. That I would use the skills that I know best and give everyone else more than enough space to do what needs to be done to make this situation a life worth living.

Time For Us to Free Our Minds for Responsibility's Sake.

Free Hillaria, Free Aviv, Free Nathaniel, Free Me, Free Mumia who taught us to allow our dreams to go beyond the walls that separates us in deceit. Free Cathy Free Brittany Free Diana Free You Free We Free the information that bombards us from the TV Screen. Free the Animals Free the Trees From all the insanity that keeps us from communicating openly. Free our children Free our schools Free our windows so Freedom Rules! Free our Consciences so we feel whole. Free our minds so our bodies don't just reach for gold. Free our world from pollution's strangle hold. Free our direction to include us all. Free the blessings that break the mold. Allow the differences to take hold. Free the daily to explore what's more. Free ourselves from passing judgement on what we deplore, so we may expand and embrace love when it opens the door. Make what's light more important than supposed. You don't have to do nothing like it's a chore. Enjoy the moment, Look forward to what you expect, Allow the past to guide to keep going, Not sit on your chest. Allow what people tell you fall under your step, and do only what you need to, to follow your breath. Don't let the interference bind you your shackles have no locks, Except for Nathaniel and I wonder what goes on on his block. Except for Mumia who deserves, more than anyone, a kiss from a robin, than the rest of us do. Sitting in the deepest, darkest pit because it was easier to balance the lie than count to five and clear you. You know what for argument sake may she carry one from me, too. That goes for Leonard, too. I count the days till I get to sweat with you, With molten rock and grandfather's breathe, my choice, to live free with you. For Aviv, who, more than anything, wants to run around like the other kids do, and still asks to stay with his daddie, even though the court has said he'll have to make do. And to his mom, who feels responsible for all the abuse, but is too scared, she can't do what she knows we'll get her through. Free Cathy, because she was the first to take her story to the whole world. Cathy O knows that Diana really was the one who needed a way to shore. Free the people, So we may use the $80 trillion floating on our tax bills, to do more. No longer is the conquest necessary to breath, Our investments have shown us dividends to be perpetual And No Need ever - a better return to Harmony. Take your trillions upon trillions of dollars to do as you please. Just make sure that we eat. I bet we find that everything works out when you listen to we. One dictation holds the tone, But all voices make Ohm. When we sit down and you realize what you owe, We'll happily listen, you may find the cost to rebuild low. We build in harmony with what we know, imagine what could happen if we built with that we sow. The world of no matter turns to the world I know, And every single problem washed away, to show more. We sit in a paradigm set by our limits, Where we fight for space to say how we get it. Renewable resources cut for addictive collections till we have no more. When everything, all of our needs Are automatically provided for, by the little planet we call home. May we find the balance so long forgot That the earth begins to care for us Instead of watching her children settle for gore. As her body speaks We'll hear her through our hearts. The only one to guide us passed the wants and our have nots, Holding the lengths that haven't been freeing us from boundaries because of the cost. Imagine if oil companies turned to renewable energies that didn't cost a thing and thought became the only commodity to win. Imagine all those profits turning into smiles for Accomplishing what seemed the hardest feat. The only thing holding us back, Our egos calling, "Cheat!" A word to hide from our greatest fear, Change is what we need. Change an end to a means that perpetuates all our energy. A way to look at something differently. Something better, Something new, The only way to know what's true. The first thing to show us what went wrong and also, what we can do from now on. The limits only as big as your view. An end to a war does not mean we all come ashore. But an end to a war leaves opportunity to make something better than what's worth fighting for. The more voices we listen to, The less we have to do to make people find the means to do what we need to do. Making the world a better place the only thing that will heal our wounds. No matter what side you're on, You know that's what you really want to do. Putting things in front of this, Puts what's better to get tousled in the wake. Lost in a perpetual game of I forget, But I think this is the route we take. It matters, What's around us and what we take. You learn that quickly when you embrace. So whether it's a time for you to feel big or small, The benefit comes from you doing what makes everyone strong. Cause really what kind of world is it when you stand alone? Whether it's someone older Younger, Winged, Or tall, Stands on four legs, six, or none at all. If they have roots and trunks and leaves to shelter the world, There's a lot to be missed, when you're supposed to be more tall than them all. A know-it-all must compete with the differences in how we speak. Listen first A way without judgement. Strength only in what's weak. Try to find a bond that does not break at its weakest link and begin to leak. Remind yourself that a wound can heal. The path easiest followed always clear. Only those who want to get better, Heal. Our health the only way to see clearly, no end. That we must be able to communicate to change our Fate. That the challenge is only relayed by what makes us wait, Our decision stuck between that and what does this make. I thank my friends and neighbors for the strength we show, that helps the world grow. I just hope and pray our one big family begins to shape the world we live in with what we know, instead of waiting for that better world to just show. To all our relations... God bless us all.