Many Americans tend to view slavery with horror, shock, disbelief, and even denial. The imagery is painful and wrenching as the level of cruelty and brutality is unparallel in scope among the annals of human history. The long voyage across the Atlantic Ocean enclosed in cramped quarters, shackled around the ankles, wrists, and neck by iron chains allowed little in the way of mobility or comfort for the captive slaves. Many slaves grew sick and diseased from the cramped conditions, darkness, and dampness, lack of proper ventilation, sanitation, as well as suffering the devastating effect of malnutrition. The gravely ill slaves are separated from the healthy so as not to infect the other slaves. Those slaves who would not survive the long and arduous voyage were tossed overboard to the waiting arms of the sea and the various schools of sharks that follow the slaver's ships.
Even the few healthy slaves who were allowed onto the deck of the ship either mutinied or voluntarily flung their infant young or themselves into the churning sea because they reasoned, " it is better to die free than live in bondage.” The terror from witnessing the piercing screams of life's last struggle by those appointed for death was enough to break even the staunchest survivor's spirit. Some of the male slaves, cruelly forced to do the rowing, tasted the lash of the whip on their strong backs and sinewy shoulders. A voyage of the damned, awaiting a fateful and uncertain future in a strange land, a trail of tears and blood, anguish of soul and spirit, and at the bottom of the ocean depths, a valley of incalculable bones and skeletons, bridging ‘Alkebulan’ (Africa) to the New World of the Americas.
It is ironic that feet which once danced to the drumbeat of freedom and that chased the swiftest of animals are now forced to walk single file down the gangplank, in one long chain of human misery, to be auctioned off one by one or in groups, to the highest bidder. In this assemblage stood proud, erect, and strong bodies that in the past triumphantly marched in valorous combat or religious ceremonial dances, now bent over and broken. The clanking sounds made by the metal chain links of iron, worn as a symbol of subjugation by the slaves, drown out the pulse-pounding heartbeat of their fear and horror. The prospective owners examine and inspect the human captives as one would a dumb animal for purchase. Men with vile hands touch and examine individuals of similar flesh and blood; no areas of the body deemed too personal or private.
The powerful, virile ‘Mandingo warrior’ type male slave would do the labor-intensive work in the fields. The female slave with full breasts as well as wide hips, are utilized for breeding, and the elderly or infirm slaves worked inside the “big house” as domestic slaves. Slave mothers had their infant children forcibly snatched from their protective bosoms and sold to another slaveholder right before their eyes. Emasculated male slaves have their manhood stripped away from them, as they are unable to protect the female from sexual abuse and rape by depraved white men. One can only imagine the fear and confusion experienced by this special group of people torn from their motherland.
These people not only lost their families, but their oral histories, traditions, and native languages as well. According to an old African proverb, “those who do not know their history are dead.” The irony is that the word, ‘Negro’, which etymologically means, ‘dead’’, and it doesn’t matter if a person is referred to as Colored, Afro-American, Black, or African-American, it essentially comes down to the same thing; a loss of cultural identity. Whether one admits it or not, the evidence can be seen in the lifestyle choices that a number of African-Americans make.
Because of the devastating impact of slavery in America some nearly three centuries later, a particular segment of American society still struggle to find not only their ‘roots’, but also a sense of unity, self-determination and a rich legacy of pride and accomplishments to pass along to succeeding generations. This ongoing dilemma does not in any way exonerate White America about her past, that horrible legacy of “chattel slavery”, and it cannot be forgotten since it is indelibly etched in our national consciousness and history. America cannot deny that this event took place nor can she justify its legitimacy.
Robert Randle
776 Commerce St. #B-11
Tacoma, WA 98402
pbks@hotmail.com
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Man in the Mirror
The Jewish prophet and Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth mentioned about the the "poor" in one of his many sermons in the Judean hill country nearly two thousand years ago. His attention to their plight echoes with solemn importance and obliges us today to give heed to ourselves and our mutual responsibility as our brother's keeper. All societies have the arduous task of dealing with the issue of homelessness and poverty; it is a problem that will not simply just go away. In America, supporters and critics alike have weighed in on this topic of intense public debate with the interest of shaping social policy.
Some proponents feel that it is a religious duty to help the needy, poor, and the homeless in our midst. They believe that it is the moral imperative and obligation of an enlightened society in such a prosperous and wealthy nation as America to perform this form of social philanthropy. Detractors, on the other hand, feel that this is a waste of valuable resources and that, "if a person doesn't work, then neither should they eat". These individuals charge that the local, state, and federal programs are nothing more than social welfare (socialism), forcing the already heavily burdened taxpayer to pick up the tab (absorb the costs incurred with implementation of these programs) to the detriment of other needed services such as building larger jails and prisons for criminal offenders and funding the efforts to combat the threat of "global terrorism".
Perhaps the desire to help the less fortunate stems in part from our common humanity. The need to reach out and help someone suffering and in dire deprivation is our way of validating ourselves as human; as caring, sympathetic and compassionate beings, connecting with those whom society has discarded, forgotten and deemed as worthless. There are citizens who consider themselves upright, God-fearing, and patriotic that look down upon the homeless and poor as one would do to social lepers, or even as a cancer, a horrible disease to be avoided (like HIV/AIDS). Others see them as an embarrassment, an experiment gone horribly wrong, a scourge, a blight, a problem that some wish would just quietly go away or disappear.
To observe the legions of nameless faces, wandering nomads pandering for the most meager and basic human needs is visually disturbing. They remind us how vulnerable we are and that reality makes us feel uncomfortable. They are our mirrors and we don't like what we see. We live in denial, isolation and avoidance, rejecting the painful and pitiful images of ourselves. We convince ourselves that "we could never end up like that"; never realizing that any homeless person might have imagined the same thing before circumstances to the contrary placed them in this very desperate and humiliating situation.
And what about all the resources allocated to assist the homeless and poor? Despite all the community-based, religious or faith-based and governmental efforts to help the poor and homeless, all such entities receive a failing grade. The reason for such a harsh assessment is that all these programs, no matter how well-intentioned, only foster dependency; that is, they only "perpetuate homeless and poverty" instead of helping to eradicate it. All these measures on the surface merit great praise, however they are temporary and mask the failures of these organizations to successfully and effectively to integrate the individual back into society with a high degree of self-worth and confidence. It seems that the only persons who permanently escape this condition rely on "personal faith," individual effort, or with the help of charitable strangers.
The question to be asked is: “what's wrong with these outreaches and why do they fail so miserably?” In the first place, homelessness and poverty needs to be reevaluated not only in America, but worldwide. All the available resources and emphasis is directed towards treating the' symptoms' and not in the cure. Homeless and poverty are a disease and should be designated so by the WHO (World Health Organization), NIMH (National Institute of Mental Health), APA (American Psychiatric Association), the AMA (American Medical Association) and other agencies or professional organizations dealing with physical and mental health. Just as mental illness, alcoholism and drug addiction are a disease, so is homelessness and poverty. In fact, these maladies create a downward spiral into the deepest levels of poverty and homelessness. Waiting lists are increasing for admittance to shelters and with federal subsidies too low and the income of renters shrinking, the poor and homeless may find that it is much easier to just give up completely; on themselves and society as a whole.
The true measure of affluence for any nation is the health of all its citizens, and America is gradually and increasingly becoming a two-class society; one rich, and the other poor. Will America accept the challenge and rise up to fulfill her creed of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all her children, or is it just for the "privileged" few? In the midst of the most marvelous architecturally designed buildings and skyscrapers reaching ever skyward toward the heavens, one finds squalor. Will these magnificent structures that represent the pinnacle of technological achievement and advancement be marred in contrast by the encampments of tent cities inhabited by those whom such an enlightened society deems marginal and invisible?
The poor you have with you always; the enigmatic statement spoken nearly two millennia ago that either compels us to want to share and participate in each others misfortune, or to turn a deaf ear to those whom we should treat with dignity, compassion, and respect. It is an individual choice, and as Jesus of Nazareth reminded those in the regions of Galilee and Judea, "insomuch as you have done it unto the least of these, you have also done it unto me."
Robert Randle
776 Commerce St. #B-11
Tacoma, WA 98402
pbks@hotmail.com
Some proponents feel that it is a religious duty to help the needy, poor, and the homeless in our midst. They believe that it is the moral imperative and obligation of an enlightened society in such a prosperous and wealthy nation as America to perform this form of social philanthropy. Detractors, on the other hand, feel that this is a waste of valuable resources and that, "if a person doesn't work, then neither should they eat". These individuals charge that the local, state, and federal programs are nothing more than social welfare (socialism), forcing the already heavily burdened taxpayer to pick up the tab (absorb the costs incurred with implementation of these programs) to the detriment of other needed services such as building larger jails and prisons for criminal offenders and funding the efforts to combat the threat of "global terrorism".
Perhaps the desire to help the less fortunate stems in part from our common humanity. The need to reach out and help someone suffering and in dire deprivation is our way of validating ourselves as human; as caring, sympathetic and compassionate beings, connecting with those whom society has discarded, forgotten and deemed as worthless. There are citizens who consider themselves upright, God-fearing, and patriotic that look down upon the homeless and poor as one would do to social lepers, or even as a cancer, a horrible disease to be avoided (like HIV/AIDS). Others see them as an embarrassment, an experiment gone horribly wrong, a scourge, a blight, a problem that some wish would just quietly go away or disappear.
To observe the legions of nameless faces, wandering nomads pandering for the most meager and basic human needs is visually disturbing. They remind us how vulnerable we are and that reality makes us feel uncomfortable. They are our mirrors and we don't like what we see. We live in denial, isolation and avoidance, rejecting the painful and pitiful images of ourselves. We convince ourselves that "we could never end up like that"; never realizing that any homeless person might have imagined the same thing before circumstances to the contrary placed them in this very desperate and humiliating situation.
And what about all the resources allocated to assist the homeless and poor? Despite all the community-based, religious or faith-based and governmental efforts to help the poor and homeless, all such entities receive a failing grade. The reason for such a harsh assessment is that all these programs, no matter how well-intentioned, only foster dependency; that is, they only "perpetuate homeless and poverty" instead of helping to eradicate it. All these measures on the surface merit great praise, however they are temporary and mask the failures of these organizations to successfully and effectively to integrate the individual back into society with a high degree of self-worth and confidence. It seems that the only persons who permanently escape this condition rely on "personal faith," individual effort, or with the help of charitable strangers.
The question to be asked is: “what's wrong with these outreaches and why do they fail so miserably?” In the first place, homelessness and poverty needs to be reevaluated not only in America, but worldwide. All the available resources and emphasis is directed towards treating the' symptoms' and not in the cure. Homeless and poverty are a disease and should be designated so by the WHO (World Health Organization), NIMH (National Institute of Mental Health), APA (American Psychiatric Association), the AMA (American Medical Association) and other agencies or professional organizations dealing with physical and mental health. Just as mental illness, alcoholism and drug addiction are a disease, so is homelessness and poverty. In fact, these maladies create a downward spiral into the deepest levels of poverty and homelessness. Waiting lists are increasing for admittance to shelters and with federal subsidies too low and the income of renters shrinking, the poor and homeless may find that it is much easier to just give up completely; on themselves and society as a whole.
The true measure of affluence for any nation is the health of all its citizens, and America is gradually and increasingly becoming a two-class society; one rich, and the other poor. Will America accept the challenge and rise up to fulfill her creed of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all her children, or is it just for the "privileged" few? In the midst of the most marvelous architecturally designed buildings and skyscrapers reaching ever skyward toward the heavens, one finds squalor. Will these magnificent structures that represent the pinnacle of technological achievement and advancement be marred in contrast by the encampments of tent cities inhabited by those whom such an enlightened society deems marginal and invisible?
The poor you have with you always; the enigmatic statement spoken nearly two millennia ago that either compels us to want to share and participate in each others misfortune, or to turn a deaf ear to those whom we should treat with dignity, compassion, and respect. It is an individual choice, and as Jesus of Nazareth reminded those in the regions of Galilee and Judea, "insomuch as you have done it unto the least of these, you have also done it unto me."
Robert Randle
776 Commerce St. #B-11
Tacoma, WA 98402
pbks@hotmail.com
Monday, August 9, 2010
African-American discusses Near death Experience
I remember watching "Oprah" one day, and all these White people were on the show talking about their own personal near death experiences and of course, everyone has to write a book about it. In fact, at one time, books of this kind of phenomenon were quite popular and bestsellers on The New York Times booklist; no doubt spearheaded by Marianne Williamson's book, "Return to Love" (which incidentally, I purchased and it influenced me, too). After watching a few interviews of the guests, I wondered, "how come no Black people have these near death experiences?" I was more than a little cynical and stated that I guess when we die, we don't get to come back and tell about it. This is where the Creator says, "THAT'S ALL FOLKS," "END OF THE LINE," or something like that. As the old oriental saying goes, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”
One day, by accident or perhaps it was more than that, I met a man who was trying to get government funding to study the effects of TM (“transcendental meditation”), and he was looking for volunteers. After he and I talked about the subject matter, this experience seemed to be a perfect vehicle for me to achieve cosmic awareness. However, the funding did not come through for the project and we lost touch with one another soon afterward. It was later that I remembered his words to me about "effortless effort", but I didn't understand the meaning at the time. It seemed so puzzling and enigmatic to me; how can you initiate something without trying in the first place? From the brief encounter with the stranger, I learned that TM techniques involve being in a relaxed state as to transcend this mortal plane of illusion (called 'Maia' in Hindu philosophy) and become one with the universe; easier said than done, I might add. I tried several times, but without any success. However, I think part of the process is to still the mind, and in the society in which we live, amid all the noise and other distractions of everyday living, this would be very hard to accomplish. I more of less gave up on trying to achieve "enlightenment," and after a few failed attempts, I forgot all about it.
In the meantime, I continued to read more books and I think at this time I was reflecting on something that I read in Egyptian history or mythology having to do with the symbolism of the pyramid; "You have to go down before you can go up." I thought about the words of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, who said something about "going into your closet to pray and God who sees in secret will reward you openly." Anyway, on this particular day I was not pondering anything profound, at least not on a conscious level, when it suddenly happened! I was lying on my bed, my body quite relaxed, my mind calm, when I took a seemingly normal exhalation, and everything changed; I thought forever! As best as I can describe it, although it has been many years since, and I am not so sure that even at this moment, I am entirely comfortable describing what occurred. To start with, I felt as if my essence or ‘being' was pulled or drawn out of my physical body, in a downward direction, if you want to call it that. Not only was this pull almost the feel of something like that of a magnet, maybe because the sheer sudden and unexpected nature of it.
This inexplicable force pulled my essence from the body, and it seemed to me at least, through the bed, the floor, everything; but it was seemed like a rip or tear in the very fabric of material reality itself. The curious thing is that it seemed for a moment that I was conscious of still being in my body, and it was immobile and felt heavy, very heavy, like it weighed a ton. Afterward, I experienced what could be something like a cosmic blink, and I was no longer in my former body, or even in the reality or universe that I was formerly part of; that much I realized as my eyes opened ("spiritually-speaking"). No, I didn't see that bright light at the end of some tunnel or meet any angelic messenger or guardian spirit, nor did I see deceased relatives or other people I knew back on earth in their glorified bodies.
It seemed to me that I was part of something that I can't even find the words for.
I suppose that I was becoming more consciously aware of “Essential” things, but not thinking about anything in the human sense of the word. I knew that I existed, but without the physical body that I previously had. I experienced a brief, albeit fleeting consideration of what I might be (as far as form) and what I likened it to was if someone could picture a ‘thought' or ‘consciousness,' something like that; then that what I was, or part of, but on a universal scale; at least, that's what it seemed to me.The experience was beyond anything to compare it to or conceivable in the imagination of mortals, because there is no human vocabulary to describe it. In the words of the Chinese Daoist in portraying the Tao: "If you experience it, you can't describe it; if you can describe it, then you haven't experienced it." There was the sense of everything all-at-once, and yet, N-O-T-H-I-N-G-N-E-S-S.
As I write this, I can still glimpse that part of it that will always remain within me, but I still can't put it into exact words because there is no conceptual framework on which to use as a guidepost. Interestingly enough, although I don't really know why, but I started to rationalize or started thinking, and realized that I wasn't breathing (in the human sense) because I existed is some form other than a physical one as far as I could perceive. Instead of continuing to experience the timeless moment, for some unknown reason I just couldn't wait to get back and tell somebody or anybody what this was like. Then suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, it dawned on me that I might not get the chance, ever again! Then a sense of awe and finality filled my being and I thought,"Oh My God!" The next thing I remember was a re-awakening (in a sense) and being in my physical body, conscious and sentient, but still not breathing as of yet. Then suddenly, I took the deepest inhalation, possibly similar to the breath of life ("neshamah" in the Hebrew) as recorded in the Jewish Old Testament; this is my best guess of the experience because I did not remember how to start the process of respiration [breathing].
After what seemed like timeless moments, I came back from where I emerged from to where I had been, and I pondered for some days over the meaning and purpose of what happened to me because I did not converse with any celestial being or archangel and so I wasn't quite so sure what to make of it all. I shared the experience with a few acquaintances that are knowledgeable in metaphysical things; some of them having had a near death experience or out of body experience (OBE), which is what I had. The only difference between the two may simply be one of degrees or duration, because in my case, I don't believe that I was "clinically dead". I think what happened is that for a moment, my body and mind were so relaxed that I was allowed to slip past the normal boundary of reality and experience something akin to "enlightenment;" or ascendancy on some higher plane of existence; probably what the ancient yogis, priests, hierophants, and monks aspired to, and which some did achieve.
Maybe what I experienced was attaining a ‘oneness' with what some might call the "Group Soul" or "Universal Mind", which is the Collective Conscience of all human experience that each of us, based on our experience and lessons on earth, leave a record of. So, what great message did I bring back from beyond this veil of reality? Well, not much; just this: "Love is the total absence of fear." Perhaps Marianne Williamson is right after all. Love is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning of all things and the end of all things. Although, as a believing Christian I know the Scriptures don’t appear to substantiate what happened to me, but nevertheless I cannot deny the profound thing I experienced which was an “epiphany,” nor will I attempt to devalue it just for the sake of appeasement to some of the doubters. All I know is that it was deeply moving, spiritual, unforgettable, and I will never be able to view LIFE or DEATH again in the same way as I did before.
Robert Randle
776 Commerce St. #B-11
Tacoma, WA 98402
pbks@hotmail.com
One day, by accident or perhaps it was more than that, I met a man who was trying to get government funding to study the effects of TM (“transcendental meditation”), and he was looking for volunteers. After he and I talked about the subject matter, this experience seemed to be a perfect vehicle for me to achieve cosmic awareness. However, the funding did not come through for the project and we lost touch with one another soon afterward. It was later that I remembered his words to me about "effortless effort", but I didn't understand the meaning at the time. It seemed so puzzling and enigmatic to me; how can you initiate something without trying in the first place? From the brief encounter with the stranger, I learned that TM techniques involve being in a relaxed state as to transcend this mortal plane of illusion (called 'Maia' in Hindu philosophy) and become one with the universe; easier said than done, I might add. I tried several times, but without any success. However, I think part of the process is to still the mind, and in the society in which we live, amid all the noise and other distractions of everyday living, this would be very hard to accomplish. I more of less gave up on trying to achieve "enlightenment," and after a few failed attempts, I forgot all about it.
In the meantime, I continued to read more books and I think at this time I was reflecting on something that I read in Egyptian history or mythology having to do with the symbolism of the pyramid; "You have to go down before you can go up." I thought about the words of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ of Nazareth, who said something about "going into your closet to pray and God who sees in secret will reward you openly." Anyway, on this particular day I was not pondering anything profound, at least not on a conscious level, when it suddenly happened! I was lying on my bed, my body quite relaxed, my mind calm, when I took a seemingly normal exhalation, and everything changed; I thought forever! As best as I can describe it, although it has been many years since, and I am not so sure that even at this moment, I am entirely comfortable describing what occurred. To start with, I felt as if my essence or ‘being' was pulled or drawn out of my physical body, in a downward direction, if you want to call it that. Not only was this pull almost the feel of something like that of a magnet, maybe because the sheer sudden and unexpected nature of it.
This inexplicable force pulled my essence from the body, and it seemed to me at least, through the bed, the floor, everything; but it was seemed like a rip or tear in the very fabric of material reality itself. The curious thing is that it seemed for a moment that I was conscious of still being in my body, and it was immobile and felt heavy, very heavy, like it weighed a ton. Afterward, I experienced what could be something like a cosmic blink, and I was no longer in my former body, or even in the reality or universe that I was formerly part of; that much I realized as my eyes opened ("spiritually-speaking"). No, I didn't see that bright light at the end of some tunnel or meet any angelic messenger or guardian spirit, nor did I see deceased relatives or other people I knew back on earth in their glorified bodies.
It seemed to me that I was part of something that I can't even find the words for.
I suppose that I was becoming more consciously aware of “Essential” things, but not thinking about anything in the human sense of the word. I knew that I existed, but without the physical body that I previously had. I experienced a brief, albeit fleeting consideration of what I might be (as far as form) and what I likened it to was if someone could picture a ‘thought' or ‘consciousness,' something like that; then that what I was, or part of, but on a universal scale; at least, that's what it seemed to me.The experience was beyond anything to compare it to or conceivable in the imagination of mortals, because there is no human vocabulary to describe it. In the words of the Chinese Daoist in portraying the Tao: "If you experience it, you can't describe it; if you can describe it, then you haven't experienced it." There was the sense of everything all-at-once, and yet, N-O-T-H-I-N-G-N-E-S-S.
As I write this, I can still glimpse that part of it that will always remain within me, but I still can't put it into exact words because there is no conceptual framework on which to use as a guidepost. Interestingly enough, although I don't really know why, but I started to rationalize or started thinking, and realized that I wasn't breathing (in the human sense) because I existed is some form other than a physical one as far as I could perceive. Instead of continuing to experience the timeless moment, for some unknown reason I just couldn't wait to get back and tell somebody or anybody what this was like. Then suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, it dawned on me that I might not get the chance, ever again! Then a sense of awe and finality filled my being and I thought,"Oh My God!" The next thing I remember was a re-awakening (in a sense) and being in my physical body, conscious and sentient, but still not breathing as of yet. Then suddenly, I took the deepest inhalation, possibly similar to the breath of life ("neshamah" in the Hebrew) as recorded in the Jewish Old Testament; this is my best guess of the experience because I did not remember how to start the process of respiration [breathing].
After what seemed like timeless moments, I came back from where I emerged from to where I had been, and I pondered for some days over the meaning and purpose of what happened to me because I did not converse with any celestial being or archangel and so I wasn't quite so sure what to make of it all. I shared the experience with a few acquaintances that are knowledgeable in metaphysical things; some of them having had a near death experience or out of body experience (OBE), which is what I had. The only difference between the two may simply be one of degrees or duration, because in my case, I don't believe that I was "clinically dead". I think what happened is that for a moment, my body and mind were so relaxed that I was allowed to slip past the normal boundary of reality and experience something akin to "enlightenment;" or ascendancy on some higher plane of existence; probably what the ancient yogis, priests, hierophants, and monks aspired to, and which some did achieve.
Maybe what I experienced was attaining a ‘oneness' with what some might call the "Group Soul" or "Universal Mind", which is the Collective Conscience of all human experience that each of us, based on our experience and lessons on earth, leave a record of. So, what great message did I bring back from beyond this veil of reality? Well, not much; just this: "Love is the total absence of fear." Perhaps Marianne Williamson is right after all. Love is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning of all things and the end of all things. Although, as a believing Christian I know the Scriptures don’t appear to substantiate what happened to me, but nevertheless I cannot deny the profound thing I experienced which was an “epiphany,” nor will I attempt to devalue it just for the sake of appeasement to some of the doubters. All I know is that it was deeply moving, spiritual, unforgettable, and I will never be able to view LIFE or DEATH again in the same way as I did before.
Robert Randle
776 Commerce St. #B-11
Tacoma, WA 98402
pbks@hotmail.com
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