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.

Let's Remember the Jena Six are Still Just Boys

The definition of racism that I was raised on, "Is the use of one's power against another because of the color of their skin. By definition this can only pertain to white men. Others may have prejudice, but only white men hold all but a few positions of power and influence." I have been aware of the Jena Six as they now have become famously known, since at least the spring time, if not the mid to late winter. The Jena Six are six black young men, teenagers, who got arrested for getting into a fight over three nooses being hung by a couple white students on a tree at their school. Mychal Bell is the only student to be tried and convicted as an adult. He was convicted of aggravated assault as an adult by an all white jury from an all white jury pool. And now is sitting in a prison cell with older men as if his detention is a solution to a problem that has its foundation in repression and division on such a level that nothing else can shine through. Our country is still divided by the color of a person's skin. As a white man, I find it imperative to acknowledge this as justification of our ability to understand all of the problems and divisions that keep us, as a people, separate and unaware of our similarities as a nation. The District Attorney of Jena had come down hard on a group of kids I'm sure he felt vindicated acting against. He stood up in front of the whole school population and said, "I could wipe away your lives with the stroke of a pen." Something I'm sure he didn't want to have go any further, but a threat I feel probably in-sighted a bigger level of anger and resentment than had he kept his comments to resolving the issue for the whole community. Maybe keeping his word was the only motivation he had for following through. Knowing the ensuing aftermath, I don't think his comments were well thought through, or necessary. Having followed Mychal Bell's case for at least a few months has a allowed me to not only get the official story clear, but to hear perspectives from a white retired school board member, a black retired school board member, the mother of one of the Jena Six, and an interview of a couple of the actual Jena Six, including Mychal Bell, right after he had been arraigned, on Democracy Now. I've noticed how this has polarized even conversations in Philadelphia and ignited repressed feelings that raise our consciousness to the Civil Rights movement in the 50's and 60's. Had these kids been able to have a discussion in school about nooses being displayed to everyone, I think the anger expressed would probably have been shown in a way that everyone involved could have understood it much quicker. Putting ourselves in the middle of any situation without allowing both sides to find comfort in the other parties point of view is a major problem to many of the issues that we may resolve someday. The confusion of how this could be happening today I feel is more than valid, especially by people of color, who's families have had to fight so hard for so long for a chance to help allow equality to reign. I stand in solidarity with a way of living that sees it more beneficial breaking down barriers and looking at differences in a way that allows all of us to find their benefits. A world that allows its barriers to be broken down and its people to look each other in the eye to understand equality has no greater strength. Our finding ourselves witnessing a situation like this is a clear sign of not only progress, from the masses of people who already can define this situation from a standpoint of equality, This is also an example that will empower us to when we look at all the people involved as individuals responsible for each of their actions. No one was more at fault than any other. The white students hanging nooses from trees are no less guilty of enraging all of us, than the six black students who allowed their anger to get the better of them. Those white students I believe deserve just as much an opportunity to understand the line they drew in their community. I'm sure they have had no way of understanding the perspective of the black students. I have found hearing another person's perspective is a much better tool than forcing one's opinion on that person. My people of all color's but also, my white family has done everything to allow me to see a different perspective than the one the level of division that came before. I have spent enough time in my city to get an idea of most people's feelings about what it was like back then, and what remains the same today. September 23rd is the 50th anniversary of the forced Integration of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas. Minnijean Brown-Trickey was one of the first black students to walk through the doors of Central High School. Returning to Central High School recently, she and a couple of filmmakers made a documentary about Little Rock today. In it she found herself in a class room segregated down the middle, white and black. She said,"...we still line up on two sides of color. And if we keep on saying and talking about and doing the same things that we’ve been doing forever, we’re going to stay the same. And I’m really sorry for us." Finding ourselves at the cusp of such a momentous anniversary, I can not begin to think what the future might hold, could those of us, who have grown out of this struggle, would talk with those who don't know or remember the lessons learned 50 years ago. We are one people in this nation. Our diverse backgrounds lay influence to both our differences and gifts that show our ability to overcome hardship and to open up new points of view from those solidified by no other opinion until now. With all of my hopes and prayers, I send this message in the spirit of allowing all of us to put down our anger for a moment to see the other side and to look at what makes us nothing but the same. We may give ourselves the opportunity to see not only that the people we feel polarized against are inferior, but maybe find some similarities that help us as individuals to be better people ourselves. In a time when we are being forced to acknowledge all of the people who feel forgotten and mistreated. Those who have been locked away and completely separated from the benefits of our society are the first to deserve our acknowledgments as human beings and deserving of our support. They have more reason to be show they can evolve and be different than anyone right now wanting to do the same thing. May we all make a better world by healing the wounds we have before looking anywhere or doing anything else to change it.

Remembering September 11th, 2001

In remembering what happened September 11th, 2001, I remember all the people who were around me and all the differences in the world becoming one. I remember I was in Wildwood, NJ at a hotel called the Lollipop with a large group of adults with special needs and being awakened to what I assumed was another breakfast I had slept through. My buddy ran in the room and said, "Rob, Rob they're attacking us, they're bombing us, they just set off a bomb at the World Trade Center!" Groggy eyed and stiff from only a few hours sleep, I sat up as he turned on the TV, and as it came into to focus, I got to see one of the first replays of the first jet slamming into Tower 1. The next thing I noticed was the silence. The silence that all of us can remember experiencing that day all across America. The only word that comes to mind in Eerie. Immediately all the staff began to congregate in my room, or at least all the black staff. I don't know, but I've always been the token white kid most places I congregate. People began to pray, talk, I remember most of us were all holding hands, staying connected. NO ONE took their eyes off the tube, and that was when I realized that every television in the whole Hotel was turned on and replaying this whole experience as it unfolded and we continued taking care of our folks. What a weird way to experience this, I remember thinking. We have all these people whom we're caring for, showers, medicine, shaves all were being administered as the whole nation, was experiencing the most direct undermining of security and our sense of integrity on a collective level. I remember walking along the boardwalk the rest of the week and all of the people, surrounding me, of color experiencing a sense of appreciation beyond any perception they could ever remember. Admittedly, I couldn't fully buy it. Being one to have put forth tremendous effort to break down barriers instilled even by my relatives, I couldn't understand how we couldn't see through the facade. But I understood how much being an American meant for people to put down their shields and swords maintained for so long. Later that winter, I met up with a friend of mine, whom I hadn't spoken to since I was 12. He and I had had a falling out about me being racist just cause I was white. I had never had anyone tell me that before. He and I had grown up right behind each other, our back yards connecting. I had become his friend one day when I was 7 and I had only been in Philadelphia a few months. He had been throwing a ball to his dog in his backyard, and I had had the opportunity to throw it back to him when it had accidentally landed on our side of the fence. We, of course started playing catch, and after exchanging names in our pajamas, we started a friendship that was inseparable for the rest of our childhood. Until one day, when we becoming men, we were confronted with a demon our father's had just barely extended themselves further from. I didn't talk to him again until I was 17. After September 11th, 2001, making his acquaintance again, we found ourselves speaking on the most pervasive issue of current events and he turned to me and said point blank, "That is the only day, I didn't feel like a black man." He went on to tell me how he was able to walk outside and white people actually would smile at him. He said for the rest of the week, he had no idea where was, cause America was not the America it acted before. But how long did this feeling of togetherness actually last? How did we go from tragedy, to acceptance to a regression of not only social interaction but our very foundation of our inherent rights as citizens of the United States of America, as I remember in the call for Security. Might I remind our prying minds that race became citizenship. We immediately closed our borders to anyone but one very evasive family of note. We allowed our legislature to enacted motions and laws that not only profiled people of distinct ethnic description but also undermined the sure basis of our form of Democracy. It wasn't a month after the Patriot Act was signed into law that I was waiting for a train to arrive at 30th St. Station. A group of several Amtrak Police briskly walked up the corridor and began to question a man who looked to me Indian, but definitely of south-east Asian origin. First one officer approach and asked the man for ID, as he went to fumble for his wallet and very graciously cooperate with the officers request. The 4 or 5 other officers that had been just to his left closed in and completely surrounded this man, who had nothing but a briefcase with him. In the space of thirty seconds, they had asked him for his ID, encircled him, began interrogating him from all sides. He showed them his driver's license, his INS identification. He stated where he lived, how he was getting there, where he was coming from, what he did for a living, and even told them as much about his family as he could squeeze in as these officers barely gave him room to breath. He fumbled with his belongings, tried not to make any motions that might raise their already tense reactions. With his voice nervous and quivering, he spoke clearly and directly to each inquiry and no one else in the corridor but me, all the way at the other end, said a damn thing about this absolute disgrace unfolding in front of us. I remember stomping my feet, and my fists on the floor and bench I was sitting on. I stood, and yelled to everyone around me that this man deserved our being his witness. I raised the opinion that maybe at one point most of us had immigrated to America from somewhere else. But not a person turned back to acknowledge this man any further. They had all seen the police surround him, and watched the situation unfold. But all of us being white, no one put down the paper they were reading and showed this man any dignified sign that they were aware of the demeaning nature of what was going on. Having propped myself up against a pillar, it didn't take long for these officers to realize that this man was not the threat they perceived, and as my train was being called, they returned his ID to him and he and I on our perspective stairways made our way to the platform for the trains we were to commute on. I remember this experience much more than I could remember the idea that we all became equal, even for a short period on September 11th, 2001. I remember a state of confusion that everyone seemed to have a real recognition of. But any level of equality I felt was clouded by a decisive and deliberate persuasion of the best way to deal with the sense of loss we all shared together, at the same moment, with the same ideals that were to keep us safe not moments before. It is, on this anniversary of the fall of the Twin towers, of the explosion of Flight 11 and crash into the Pentagon, that we as a nation stand up and recognize that with our vision cleared and ability to seek the truth not diminished, but strengthen by the healing of time. That it is our duty to reaffirm the essence of what it means to live in a democratic society. That we as a people must demand that our representatives work for the betterment of all the people who live within our borders. That they are not to overlook their duty to bare the reigns of our collective responsibility to make a better nation than we had before. In loving memory of those who lost their lives because of the tragedy of September 11th, 2001, and the eternal support our Nation is in dire need, I write this piece to add to all the love and appreciation we hold to the betterment of all that surrounds us. Peace and Blessings.

As another Sunday marks a revolution of the World

The Greatest Things I've Never Been Able to Do... I've had this knack for taking issues to problems that affect the whole world, or ones that just effect us as individuals and finding solutions that could really work, daily. There's just one problem, I never seem to know who to share an idea with to make any of the bigger problems resolve themselves. It seems with most of our efforts saved for making money, most people find it difficult to let go of our common practices and look at an issue for its resolution. I rarely have an idea I don't see the benefit through charity. Imagine blocks of solar panels all across North Philly paying for the energy usage of the poorest families in the city. Imagine all the guns in the city (I live in Philadelphia) being put down. Imagine public transportation being free. Imagine prosecutors facilitating investigations and litigation to the truth, not persecuting more people into a system that can't imagine light ever shining through. Where a resolution allowed all parties a sense of redemption that fulfilled the void now laying dormant to any procedure being practiced. These not being issues easily changed, I'll wait for more people to recognize their significance before I try to go about any serious social change. But the ability is there to allow the things that plague our society to become beneficial, instead. No one seems to find all encompassing issues like these feasible. I mean, when we think about them, our brains start spinning, spiraling, and chattering away about how things are, how they're going to be and how they can't be any different. How sad an outlook. How dis empowered we become when we consistently give our choice over to how things appear right now. I have to say, I have never been able to do anything different, while my mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to make sense of how things are. I will say it is important to be able to recognize, to become conscious that your mind is racing. Once we can recognize something we can move on from it. Let it go and make it into something we do want, that we can enjoy. This is the natural progression our closed door practices miss. One train of thought does not dictate to more than one reality. When you fight with or for just anger, you provide nothing but the chance for more anger. To fight to recognize your anger lends to the ability to overcome your anger and create a mood and/or use other emotions to manifest much greater power than creating rubble. We have been fighting a spiritual war but it's been more like raising a child than a battle for blood. Maybe in battle blood is spilled but those commanding such actions miss the actions of the rest of the world. We, the people, find ourselves automatic experts from perspectives expanding from immediate input. Some of us have been on the killing fields, some of us have dressed their wounds. While well more of us have heard their stories and the stories of others that have taught a bit of the differences and lessons we continue to live and utilize to help others. What else would it be for if it wasn't supposed to end. The greatest opportunity and power an individual has lies in the ability to allow your wounds to heal. The more we use the same skills over and over again, we lose our skills to find other ways of doing things. It's not that greater opportunities are missing. It's that our vision becomes so narrow that we forget to allow more rays of light to enter. We have plenty of soldiers who have come home from war. A majority of who were kept at their post much longer than we agreed or they expected to be there. The betrayal they feel will be mended by the gifts that the rest of us have. Their ability to accept love and appreciation will become effortless in time. Patience is never something constant nor immediately available, especially with such tragic memories so close at hand. I know. I've had to wage war with demons who fought me from the inside and that war is harder than any enemy you have ever faced. I felt so lonely and isolated. When my emotions were all stirred, I had to fight from allowing them to bubble over because I knew the struggle I was experiencing was because of something I had already made sure was over. I spent a year and sixth months fighting One night. No one around me had any idea how to help because there was only one other person who had any idea what it was like for me. Most people never go through something so terrible that they relive it in so many different ways. Maybe it's been the difference between the boundary of what we live in one lifetime and the experience of our soul's reincarnations that gets jaded. The boundaries of which find time as the main stabilizer and healer. All I know is I can feel a lot more love today than I could 4 years ago and five years ago I couldn't think of feeling anything other than what was trapping me, weighing on my shoulders and a sense to keep moving forward. Those were the only two things I could accept, everything else waited so I could get better. Only then did the energy that actually keeps us together show itself to me, again. To all those who have come home from war...Welcome home guys, whether its from the service or a cell, the love is here...don't worry...when you're ready you'll find it right where it's supposed to be. Peace.

While I Sit and Wait

God made me see a bigger picture. God taught me to walk through it. God said, "Just Listen, you'll find your place." God said, "Just do what we taught you." God said to me, "Walk right though it." God said, "Don't let them use you." God said, "Don't let them feed you." "Thanks God, I love you." God said, "Know who are you talking to." The La-Kota say, "Listen first." Rastas say, "One Love." Christians say, "Give thanks." Buddha said, "We are all one." God said, "The whole world is see through." My neighbor said, "Show us your movement." I said, "I want to show people that they can cry again, not out of self pity, but just for the sure act of feeling emotion, again." I cried for the first time in a long while, two days ago and have cried everyday since. Not out of fear, pity or vindication but for the spirit within to mend and cleanse excess baggage. You know my face looked younger, and my third eye began to relax. The creases in it seemed to shed backed up emotions just needing to unwind, as my tears streamed down my face, my face tried to figure out what to do, the scars began to melt away. A healing took place and the hold left more space than it promised before. I hadn't cried like this for four years. Now, about King Solomon's court, I'm not going to allow Aviv to stay in the middle... I'm not going to pull his legs as you rip out his arms. I'm not going to allow you to horde us in what's basically a step into jail for a three year half black child just to give he and I only two hours together a week. He deserves more! And if you won't let me give him what he deserves, I am not the one to tease him with what he could Have! When he and I are allowed the freedom to run and play like we're supposed to, and you can see how we are together. I will have the opportunity to love him the way he deserves. I hold no responsibility for the separation put between Aviv and I, for I cannot even talk to him on the telephone. Repeated conversations with his mother show she is incapable of even imagining a different position from her current one. As for the Court's opinion, I cannot change your prejudice about the roll that a father and mother have to a child. I will say separating any of the parties without some way of finding a cohesive resolution, especially for the child, to exert influence is the greatest example of institutional injustice of all. I look for a system of balance, facilitation, mediation and resource. What I've found is an interaction fully crass, arrogant, self-fulfilling and completely removed from the idea of Justice or compromise. In a real world, we would put our resource into mending wounds, compromising with the integrity the bond of a child deserves and placing all resource at the fingertips of any person with the intent to empower the individuals with the capability of the system. With the reality being that the court has more than enough resource, I find that the only request I can make is for any and everything we might need to fully resolve this or any dispute be used above returning to any order previously made or using your authority to influence this situation into more of a disaster. Families do not need people to influence them to work. Support should be the foundation that would never allow any separation to dictate the stability of the whole structure. I know all of accusations to hold strong moorings.I recognize the polarizing nature and influence making such statements creates. Yet at no point was Aviv allowed the time or space to allow anyone to appreciate his own path to the truth. The steps taken were never to a level that sought the truth. I hold my statements as true, not for any vindication for it was not from my influence that he said what he said, but only that he be allowed to speak the truth he was seeing. I made a promise to a little boy to allow the truth to have an opportunity to show itself. I now place the responsibility on all our shoulders to sift through time to make sure we know what's true and what isn't. Aviv is only three years old. For him to use his cognitive and communicating abilities to speak about being the victim of such things, should humble us to his use of a tremendous amount of his very young resource. "I'm only a little boy," he'll say. To have his trust betrayed shows a level of self-fulfilling negligence that should not be allowed. Children are our future because through us they already see the past. It is not fair nor do they deserve to have to relive anything from lives, but given the opportunity to learn from our experiences. The differences between people has too great an influence on our understanding of the world. Taking our differences and finding strength to learn more about the world will open the door to unlimited resources, far beyond any inequalities we've felt currently. With this out look, cultural differences should be allowed to be expressed without any restriction and sequestered practice should be opened and allowed to be for anyone interested. Its integrity will always hold to its origins and no person may influence the true essence and wisdom of its practice.. Anything that could be used to harm, may also be used to heal. The benefits of diversity has more power than could ever be expressed in just words. Exploring diversity as reality will only open the world to healthier growth, all encompassing prosperity, and the benefit of all living things. Appreciating diversity has the ability to relieve any duty of self deprivation above a duty of responsibility. To allow anyone to empower themselves and others to accomplish any task. Diversity teaches humility, cooperation, growth, strength, commitment and dedication to the relationship we have with all things. I hold this as the true spirit of our country and government. Of its responsibility and its ability. The fact that this is not how it works is just a sign of a very adolescent character of its personality. The fact is there is more than enough resource. We have been biding our time to try to perpetuate something that automatically replenishes itself. I may not be an expert of this, but there are more than enough people who have studied the phenomenon that exuberant resources in the trillions of dollars have been found spilling over with increasing dividends with the ability to accommodate our whole population as well as the world without making a dent. How different things are when they change. The level we will reach without effort will be so drastic that when we're done we will have changed more about ourselves than anything we weren't paying attention to before. We'll have the opportunity to teach responsibility in every aspect that we choose to live. All old separations, all old divisions, any hierarchy will dissipate like fog on a spring day. Dissipating in the warmth of light rising above the horizon. Wounds and injuries will heal with greater circulation and space. Knowing what our resources actually are will give us the opportunity to make sure we never abuse what we have any longer. Anything that would tax resources would have a direct opportunity to stabilize its effect towards something better. Consciousness allows appreciation of all aspects of existence and ability. So all boundaries begin to disappear when responsibility finds its true purpose, the distribution of energy. Using our full capabilities to empower the state of this planet makes for such an efficient way to a level of openness that makes anything possible.

Life Progresses, Lose Transgressions

Nerds explode to grow To observe every inch unfold... We choose a balanced attack of mind to mold You chose gold... I’ll watch the money go. I’m not interested in watching anymore numbers grow... That shit don’t go anywhere close to watching the living. Plants Children Trees Leaves buds on trees... Flowers appear magically... Organically... We feed much better on seed to tree... Than any stock market index could cede. Preach a gospel that does not forget how life truly proceeds and We seek... The finer things in life Mean friends to me... Things that do more than break bread... Nourish the web... Present me to the closest form of the light spectrum... Sun light the key to everything... Plastic wrap and potassium sorbate... Sodium benzoate mastering a depleting cell membrane... Goes directly to our brain and stays.... Never have I been Given the chance to Get the idea that Everyone of one Race is Equal!

Morning, Afternoon and Evening...

Before a Solution, there's You

I started this blog for a couple of reasons. I don't hear opinions in the media that are different from press releases put out by specific interests. I wanted a way to express myself, and to put my own ideas out there, to help diversify the mix. And I wanted a way for those close to me, both friends and family, to have a neutral space to see where I'm coming from on issues both great and small, personal and world wide. I grew up with this idea of freedom of speech, and that sharing ideas is the only way things get worked out. In the last few years, I've tried to find ways to express myself in ways that people around me could digest what I was saying and appreciate the attention I gave them. I haven't found any medium better than music and plain writing things down for people to get into my frame of mind. It seems we always come from where we are, where we come from to get what somebodies talking about, and seldom do we let go of our ties else where to appreciate a new point of view. I felt like starting a blog was a lot like going out on a limb. I was sure that the bow was sturdy enough, but finding myself farther and farther away from the trunk, certain insecurities lent themselves to sticking around. I, like most people, don't always feel confident about what other's are going to think about what I want to say. I can't even tell if anyone's really looking at my blog, except for one cute little comment on a piece I felt was a mere step in the right direction. But, even with the things that I can't do anything about, I have taken each discrepancy as a challenge to do something better. Each post, a step to something bigger and an opportunity to learn something about myself, and to share with the rest of the world. I am doing my best to not hold my opinions as the highest ground, but would not like to admit any expertize about anything but my own experience. I feel that our world deserves more appreciation of the individual, rather than just plastic forms molded and strengthened by people working hard and giving it their all. We, as individuals hold the power to allow anything to fail or succeed. I would like to show my appreciation for the 6 billion or so individuals on this planet that give our species a guide towards hope and a reality that includes every living thing's relationship to the whole. I say this because no one around me really understands that I do not talk just for myself, but would like to share my own movements to show the scale of the movement of the whole world. We, I beleive, live in a world based on love and trust. We come out of the womb, and we are able to love. We come out of the womb and are embraced by the pull of gravity, and as we grow, we learn to trust that that keeps us from floating away. Our personalities and experiences will always dictate the full spectrum of how we feel, but absolutes always have the opportunity to manifest into something positive for all parties. Having such a strong connection to the loving energy of this planet, I am able to appreciate that which will never be on TV. And those things that perpetuate themselves just to be on top, I believe will always find themselves in the same place till they start thinking of the whole. We as people are destined to learn from our mistakes, period. We will not move forward till we take what's holding us back and put it in a place where it can't do any harm and can only grow into something that's better. So, after reading this, take a moment and find something that you can appreciate. Look at it, feel it, say to yourself, I appreciate this. I do not want anything I do not appreciate to interfere with my appreciating this right now. Don't focus on anything else. If something flashes through you that you do not appreciate, let it go. Love what you can love, and that which you really don't like, tell yourself that it deserves the same space you give yourself, but you don't have to stick around for it at all. Things that we do not like, if ignored, usually turn into something completely different. In ways, that normally compliment the things you do enjoy. Have a great day, let's start enjoying the things we like and ignoring the things we don't. Cause eventually, you'll turn to me and realize we've been talking about the same thing and you never knew it. Then we will find solutions.

Living in Bliss, not what I miss

I don't eat meat very much anymore. In the last year, I've probably eaten meat only a hand full of times. Beef once, they knew the cow, organically raised, grass fed. Sushi a couple of times, and random other fish dishes through out the year. Someone warned me about what might happen, if I cut meat out of my diet. I might actually feel better, about myself, about life in general, about the world around me. You know, they were right. I cut meat, sugar, butter, all other dairy, and processed food almost a whole year ago. I think August 23, or 24th was the last time I had fast food. I came home, found a book called Healing with Whole Foods, and it changed my whole perspective about eating. From human garbage disposer. Eating almost anything, and ending a meal, only after every speck of food was eaten, to eating nothing but whole grains, and leafy green vegetables with maybe a little olive or flax seed oil. Don't you know, I haven't yearned for meat since. I grew up on an american diet. Meat, then carbs, whether white rice, or pasta, and a vegetable. Four major food groups, and maybe a discussion about a food pyramid, but only to include dessert and milk. Growing up, I drank a gallon of milk, every day and a half to two days. My parents buying four gallons of milk a week, my mom adding a bit to her tea in the morning, and my dad, if he had cereal. That left 14 cups of a cows teat for me. Invariably, and this was most of high school, I would also eat the majority of a pound of pasta for dinner. Pork chops, hamburgers, chicken (baked, fried, diced, cubed, sauteed, stir-fried, it didn't matter) were all staples in my digestive workings. Oh, and invariably, I was eating close to a pint of ice cream for dessert, every evening. Wonder what my arteries were handling, cause my belly never got any bigger. Guess it didn't need to. ;-) My parents went on weight watchers when I was 8. So everything in our house was low calorie, low fat. We always had fresh vegetables, unless my sister or I was cooking dinner, and even then, we were usually making a salad, to help sift all that meat through our intestines. But I had only flirted with being vegetarian for a week (I was 15), and that quickly became just red meat, and then fattened up to anything as our family went on a camping trip and the bar-b-q made up for lost appetites before. Well, sometimes things just work out as easily as they appear. I started reading this book, and it all made sense. The gist was, basically, if you put in the building blocks your body needs, you won't be hungry later. Standard american diet of meat potatoes and veggies was based on a study done years ago that mapped out 10 amino acids needed, oh wait, for the diet of a rat. Mama's breast milk has eight and those eight can be found in any variety of organic whole grains. So I slept on it, and pretty much the next day, went from cookies, chicken, white pasta and bread, to like I said organic whole grains, and leafy green vegetables. My goal, to keep it up for 6 months, flush my system. Remove excess mucus, which builds up in our intestines especially because of dairy and meat, and see how I feel. I went for a week, without any fat. Man, that turned into a big headache, and I couldn't figure out why. Then I realized I wasn't putting but a tablespoon worth of olive oil in my rice for dinner (organic brown rice, has an essential complex of magnesium and other nutrients necessary for calcium absorption). So, I went to my local grocer and bought a bottle of flax seed oil. It was like 15 dollars. But instead of meat, it was worth the price. I ate a cup and a half of oats every morning, with a dollop of raw honey (raw honey has enzymes and nutrients that are anti-viral, anti-biotic, full of life giving essentials that pasteurized honey lacks). For lunch, I was eating a cup or two of brown rice with steamed basil, mung bean sprouts, spinach, broccoli and baby carrots. And for dinner something very similar. Don't you know, three weeks into this, I felt better like a million bucks. I mean, better than I ever have for as long as I can remember. At the time, I was going through some really unnecessary things. My son's mom had left him with me because of a fight between the two of us. All of my friends and family were out of town on vacation, so I couldn't find anytime to work. And on top of it all, the woman I was in love with, had managed to slip in and break my heart. Man, it was scene for disaster, and I knew I was at a fork in the road. I had three things to help me get better and I had three things to make me go under. Only the path of less resistance did I make the right decision. I remember thinking, the only way for me to really get into this and do it, was to allow myself to eat anything I wanted. If I feel like eating meat, I can allow myself, if I want a cookie, I'll have a cookie. I know that what I'm reading will allow me to be able to eat exactly what my body needs, but a discipline is only accomplished with tolerance and flexibility. At least, that was my out, if I wanted it. And for 6 months straight, from the beginning of September to the end of March, I only had meat once, and that was a shrimp in an egg roll, I was not expecting to have meat in it. One tiny shrimp in 6 months was a big change from meat every night at dinner, like any good American house hold. Not having any dairy in my diet, meant I didn't have to battle any colds this past winter. Having only grains and veggies in my belly meant that my meals could be absorbed into my blood stream as soon as I ate them. Meats can take up to three days in our intestines, before the nutrients can be fully absorbed, and even then they say we have an excess of 15 pounds of undigested protein in our belly at any given time. EWWWW!!! What the fuck is the meat packing industry thinking? "That and I want it preserved so when we cut out of you, we can sell it again?" Thank you, but let's leave the feed lots alone and start raising more pastures, so our cows can walk and munch like they were made to. Basically I went from the pharmaceutical industry of food, that most of us have no idea about, to the I'm raised off of the nutrients of mother earth, who supplies my immune system with everything my body needs to be healthy, side of things. Which, ironically, is the only way we're liable to survive as a species and a planet. The food industry like all other industries is run to produce. The theory being the more product, the more money it makes. Our bodies thrive differently. The higher quality, more nutritious the food, the smaller we chew it up, the better we absorb and the more we use the food to rebuild and maintain our whole being. The meat industry has a policy of "as long as we can cram 'em in, we'll cram 'em in, till the doors don't shut" form of raising livestock, which supplements millions to pharmaceutical companies to keep down epidemics of disease and nutrition deficiency, and has been in-breeding the same genetic lines for so long that their DNA is making people's cells deficient and leaking dimensia into the populace. In olden times of living off the land, meat was a luxury. One might kill one cow for the year, smoke it, and store it for special occasions. Thank you Christmas ham. Grains supplement a majority of the protein we needed to survive and trace nutrients in the whole grains allowed our bones to stay strong and our immune system to ward off infections more readily. As the population of the country and then the world began to increase and become more condensed in cities. The ability to mass produce and then store larger quantities of food became a necessity. The advent of processing foods for storage entered the food industry and white flour and canned goods replaced the open market and farm to table way things were. Huge epidemics of nutrient strapped illness spread across the country and instead of famine because of lack of food, famine because of low quality food was introduced to the populace. Systematically, causes were singled out of individual crises, but production was always dominant over quality. Instead of making more whole wheat. We enriched white flour with niacin and iron, not realizing that even more trace nutrients, including magnesium were being removed from our diet. Instead of finding protein in gluten, our bodies were breaking the flour down into simple sugars, which would give us a boost of energy, but were stripping our bodies of nutrients we would rather utilize for absorption. Our digestive systems over the last 100 years have been over taxed and abused to such an extent that no matter how much food we eat, we can't get enough nutrients to supplement our bodies rejuvenation. We eat more calcium, maybe even more than ten times as much as people from the earth farm cultures, and have epidemic rates of osteoporosis, tooth decay, and bone loss. It's not the calcium that's the issue, it's little things like magnesium which open up the calcium ducts in our cells and bones, so that we may absorb the calcium in our bones. We have more free-floating calcium running through our bodies, but without the magnesium, the calcium is solidifying in our kidneys and gull bladders and skin, not in our bones. White sugar, having all the potassium, and other trace nutrients removed, does nothing but bond itself to our brain cells, affecting and slowing synapse firing and keeping our brains from working on a level that is necessary for healthy living. Yet, is so addictive that that rush we get is more enjoyable than keeping our train of thought, or just thinking clearly. This is why the whole food movement and organic farming, sustainable living movements are so important. It may seem to cost more at first, depending on where you get your produce. It may seem like it's not as pretty as our Genetically Modified, Sterile counter parts. But what it lacks in appearance, the more you taste organic, whole foods, the more you will begin to appreciate the taste and strength of organic living. Hope you have a great day and enjoy a fresh organic peach, their delicious this time of year. Peace.

DHS - Department of Human Suffering....Love is what we need...

The Department of Human Services has gone through a lot of bad press regarding how they have dealt with certain cases where kids were horribly abused or killed after social workers had already investigated allegations. For all the good hard working social workers, I feel sorry for the extra energy your management has put to force feeding you to do a better job. For the two social workers I've met. There's still a lot we need to talk about. My son made me feel he was being abused last September, and after making sure what he was showing me was more than just something he wanted to play a game with, I called the Philadelphia Department of Human Services for assistance. As professionals, I figured they'd be the best to help me figure out whether what Aviv was showing me was true and what wasn't. A case worker came to my house within a couple of days. When she did, she looked over my house, asked me what I'd noticed and why I called and took one look at my son. Without doing anything else, she said, oh he's too young, he's not gonna say anything that a judge would listen to. "I don't even know why I'm here, I usually work with 12 and 14 year olds. If he were talking [meaning if he could talk well enough to testify in court] then maybe we could do something for him right now. Sorry, she said, but I'm gonna have to say there was nothing founded in my report unless you can get him to talk to me right now." And you'll just have to wait till he's at least 5 or 6 for him to talk. I couldn't believe it, my son tells me something, his mom won't even acknowledge that I'm calling her for good reason. At the time she had left him with me for like 5 weeks. I had been religious about sticking to our agreed custody arrangement. The laws in Pennsylvania give dad's very little leeway as it is, so making sure we get equal time with him, means I get my time with him, period. Well, my dad lived through the '50's and me, I get to let you know what hasn't changed since. Now, I'm a good guy to understand that agencies like DHS must get a lot of false calls, parents trying to pit the system against the other to gain leverage and full custody. I've never had to do either, my goal has always been my son's well being. Having no contact with him when he was at his mom's house has been something I've struggled with ever since we started living a part. It was not something I was dealing with just at the moment, I'm talking about now. So, I took this social worker's read as, you went to her house first, before you even saw my son. OK. You talked with her first. Cool. She's Black, me I'm White. That I'll never miss. She, for all the heads out there, has been learning about the moors. I feel that. She likes to abuse this gate, though and build a re pore that makes me nothing but some confederate flag yielding, white sheet wearing KKK white dude. Can I say how easily this insights riots in the Hood? Oh, yeah I grew up in this city. My whole life, and not till I met her did I have to prove my word was born. Holla. In any case. I think I got sideswiped for having a mixed child and a baby's mama that said I was just being racist and was trying to get over on her. Whew, imagine if this shit were flipped. My mama would have whooped my ass, had I abused such accomplishment that even my ancestors today supported and fought for. I can't even imagine finding everlasting salvation in such a hustle that doesn't force your ass to listen to your son. All I would ask anyone to do is switch the focus to the kids. Every child is worth the energy it would take to get to know them. Any kid going through something demeaning or abusive is not going to talk to just anyone about it, ever. So for 8 months all I had was he's too young to tell us anything, sorry, but you're out of luck mister. Like how dare I even try. Hmmph, listen, get shady with me, watch me find a way to find someone who will listen. This Spring, my son started talking a lot, this time giving examples and showing sure signs of neglect and changes in behavior that were too drastic not to show clear lines from something traumatic. Literally, He spent 8 weeks with me, this time. Spent a whole week screaming at the top of his lungs. He has never done that, always 24 hrs of screaming and adjustment, but he always pulls through and a little boy will emerge the next morning from the cocoon he's confined to in his other environment. After 5 days straight of him acting out the whole day, screaming. Waking up after going to sleep, screaming he's not going back. He'd never had bad dreams like this, ever. I called his mom and told her we needed to get him evaluated. I don't think she's ever considered that his behavior could be connected to something he's experienced. Listen, had I been able to work this out with just his mom, it would have been resolved years ago. What can I say, it took me a year and a half, and now 2 years to try to get something out with anyone else. Aviv, daddy's not giving up on you. We're just fighting with weapons older than any metal smith could smelt, when we break this tunnel through, it'll be because you and I were working just as hard from either side. Your effort will show your worth greater than any trauma would subside just from me shooting, no holds bar. Instead I'm picking up my pen and shooting knowledge out to as many people as read this entry. For all the heads trying to figure out how I'm not contributing. Listen, being there for my son is all I have. I shoot someone, his mom will never have a chance to move past what she went through as a child and Aviv will think that's how shit changes and for real, they ain't putting people in jail to change things. Shit stays the same, the more people like you and me get put in shackles. So, A case worker comes to my house because my kids been screaming for three weeks straight. He won't tell me anything about what's bothering him, can't, says he'll get hurt. So, I spend each day with him, giving him the space to work out of his screaming bouts. I mean I can't hit him for acting out, cause it's obviously something that has been in him for a while. So, we start climbing a latter our of the pit, using each tantrum as a rung and the closer to light we get, the closer to not feeling responsible for the emotional baggage he's carrying, he gets. I'm a firm believer in a person figuring out their own resolutions to life's problems and watching my son go through something so serious with no support to climb out of it, but from his daddy. I fully support my kid in his development and was raised not spoil anyone. This guy comes into my house, hears my observations, hears what little Aviv has told me and looks around my place. He tells me that he's been to Aviv's mom's house. Where everything seems to have a meaning. OK, good, she's got alters to guide her spiritual growth. Oh, and the old man you say is her boyfriend. They refer to him as the Prophet, or Prophet Ali. This is straight from the case workers mouth. That wasn't enough to include in his report though. He can't evaluate anyone's mental health except if the child is bleeding and having been 3 weeks since I made the report. We've been doing work ourselves, just to function day to day. The way I actually got a case worker to come to my house is a great sequence of events. I wasn't planning on returning Aviv until some sort of support was instituted for him to feel comfortable enough to be at his mom's house, alone. Like I said, I'm not allowed to have contact with him when he's there, and He is still telling Me he's not going back. I've never kept him, even when he used to cry about it, but this was for weeks, not as we're putting our coats on to go to his mom's house. Well, so I write an email to some close friends about my situation and how I could be held in contempt for going against an existing order. For Aviv, I was ready to be held till this was all brought to a head. I got one response. From an old teacher of mine. He's now a psycho-therapist and specializes in child abuse. Don't you know, he spent 5 minutes with me and Aviv, and for the next 2 and half hours worked with Aviv. Two and a half hours. Play therapy. Aviv got to work through all his emotions. When we walked into the door, the furthest Aviv could express what he was going through was by punishing himself. Hitting himself on his hands. across his own face, telling himself to shut up, stuff like that. When he left, he was able to become his abuser and act out on other things (like a puppet) how he was being hit. As we started to rap up, Aviv and my psycho-therapist friend went outside to run into his next door neighbor's kids. Turns out his next door neighbor is a Director at DHS and after hearing Aviv's story from both me and our therapist friend, she gave me the chain of command and who I should talk to when. By Monday, this was Wednesday I think, we had a DHS worker at my house. By the end of the week, when the hearing was, I was seeing a kid work through his own issues, right in front of me, not only mirroring other people's behavior, but acting out and saying what they would say to him, while he was being hit. And by the end of the next week, the week DHS came to interview him he was figuring out how to work things out by himself. Telling me he loved me everyday, whenever he felt it. That was something he'd only done out of the blue. Man, so when this case worker came in, I knew all he was seeing was a happy kid. He told me how unless there was blood coming out of the kid, he couldn't do anything unless Aviv would state directly to him how he was being abused. Aviv took one look at this dude and said I don't know you. I couldn't blame him. Later, he said, "Daddy, I'm just a little kid, I can't talk to people." This is probably the hardest thing I'll ever hear anyone say. Aviv, if I could give you the podium as you want, I would man. Well, after an hour of sitting in my house and about 5 minutes trying to talk with Aviv, asking him things like do you want to go with me to your mom's house? (no, I'm with Daddy.) Or, is your mom using Crack. Man, that one fucked me up. He don't know you man. This DHS worker got his things together and as he was walking out of my door, said under his breath, "Man, I'm not getting shot over something like this." Shot, who said anything about being shot. Listen, I told him, as he's walking down my stairs, if you think they're intimidating you, what about this little kid. Only person he has looking out for him is me. What a bitch, yo. Afraid he's gonna get shot, so he's not gonna take that as reason to make sure my son's safe with me? You're a bitch. I kept Aviv another two weeks, and at the following court hearing, after I highlighted every nasty and abusive act my son had testified to me in confidence. OUr Psycho-therapist friend was not allowed to testify because both parents had not approved of his talking with Aviv. The judge turned to my lawyer and stated that I had no reason to even say anything. That Aviv's mom was granted full custody. I have two hours supervised visits every Sunday at Family Court at 18th and Vine and Aviv, no need for any follow up. Fuck him, how dare I keep a child from his mother. Riding the bus home after this, I went to a mosque instead of going right home. It was either find myself in a room full of men for a higher cause, or I'm shooting somebody. I got home and was accosted by a call from my parent's minister. My parents and him were coming over to make sure I was level enough to talk to. Aviv was not to be involved in any discussion about him having to be sent back to his mom's. I was to be escorted the rest of the way, so as not to go against another court order. Man, don't you know I only had 45 minutes to tell him he was going back into a war zone no one would step up and support him in for two years. This shit has got to stop ma. Pick your kid up and make love your judgment, not how much your ego will gain from people thinking you're getting over on some white dude. I ain't that dude and you ain't that good at what you do. So, don't slip. That kid will remember everything when he's old enough to emancipate himself, and like you did with your mom, he will with his. Peace and Blessings. SAVE AVIV, everyone, no more kids need to be lost in the system. And thanks ahead of time for all your support. My son really deserves a better life than what he's been getting, and I deserve to be able to give it to him.