On karma.

Someone wrote (and I can’t find it now, because Twitter) that the notion of karma is harmful in society because it leads people to believe that, not only do bad people eventually have bad things happen to them (applicable in these times), but it leads to thinking that, if something bad happens to you, that you’re a bad person and somehow deserve it.

The point was that economic hardship faced by people in this capitalist society was explained away by karma. That “if you can’t afford it, if you go broke, then it’s obviously a personal failing.” And while I see that, I don’t think that EVERYONE sees it that way. Especially in this here US of A.

I know a ton of good people, some of whom may be reading this now. And I know a lot of those good people have gone through some shit. Because of my capacity for empathy, because I’ve been through some shit as well, and because I’m aware that good things happen to bad people, I can also believe that bad things can happen to good people. I believe that’s the difference with this.

Sure, those who’ve never been broke, or never had something repossessed, or faced down a huge hospital bill, would look at the array fo GoFundMes and requests for CashApp and think those people must be doing something wrong. That they must be deficient in some way. But their experience isn’t open to the fact that, perhaps, bad things happen to good people too. And in a society which sees you as a cog anyway, someone who will be replaced tomorrow at work, one or two paychecks from being homeless, savings almost nil…I think enough of us have that empathy to understand and rejective notion that, just because someone’s not doing well, that they necessarily deserve it.

Posted on by ~tbg~ 0

Misdirection: a food memory

My parents were products of the American Black South; no plate left with anything on it. “A happy plate,” one of my aunts proclaimed, where you did everything short of licking the plate clean.

So I grew up with the mandate that to throw away any part of the food you’ve been given is verboten, and those who transgress face a fate worse than death.

For the most part growing up, I had no problem eating everything put before me and ask for more. My mother was an avid student of the soul food tradition, so big pots of collard greens and cabbage were made on Saturday or Sunday to be the veggies we would eat off the rest of the week. Every now and again, the big pot was pulled out to make gumbo, awash in shrimp and sausage and stewed chicken. Cornbread and muffins stood by to sop the gravies and sauces.

There was one category of food I hated, though. Slaw. And my mother made two kinds, carrot and apple slaw.

When she would make it, it was a tearful battle at the table, one she would win. (Dad would just tell me to do what my mother said, so he largely stayed out of it.) It would end with me, sitting alone at an empty table, with nothing but two spoonfuls of apple or carrot slaw. The mayonnaise in it would be getting warmer, and I would retch as I tried to choke it down.

But I couldn’t leave the table without it being gone. They caught my first few attempts; putting it in the trash, going outside and putting it in the garden. But I elevated the arms race to untold levels when I just dumped it behind the stove. ANTS BE DAMNED. I was never caught, I’m weirdly proud to share.

I say that to say this. I was reminded of some circumstances recently which illustrated to me just how janky and double dealing my folks were in this arena. Constantly prodded to “try it, you might like it” and “YOU BETTER FINISH THAT”, there was ONE food that I, in my juvenile wisdom, refused to try, and they did NOT try to coax me to try.

Cheesecake.

And as they paraded to Marie Calendars and Cheesecake Factory, and I would scrunch up my nose and proclaim “I don’t want any!”, they would shrug.

Come to find out, years later, how wrong I was and, in a way, how wrong they were. To deny me a universe of goodness!

But, then again, you can’t have a growing boy finding out he likes cheesecake. I was eating one of Mom’s pound cakes in a week; imagine the devastation on a $30 cheesecake.

So I understand…now.

Still wrong, though.

Posted on by ~tbg~

To manifest.

The goals of this here space are multifold.

To be able to write thoughts on things going on, both on a macro (the world around me) and the micro (personal) level.

To put together some thoughts that I’d like to turn into a collection at some point. A book, if you will.

To give shine to those who I admire, and I idolize, and who I think are doing good work, creatively or personally. 

To get these things out of my head. Because if something happens to me, I’d like someone to have a record of who I was and where I was mentally. History is written by the hunter, sure, but if only the lion could have writtenm somewhere, that the hunter is holding his cub hostage, maybe you’ll think about that hunter a bit differently…

Let’s go.

Posted on by ~tbg~