Cavities

A birthday came round the other day, as they tend to every now and then in a family with eight people. Since it was the birthday of an adult, and no real party was to take place, we went to a store and every child was allowed the treat of picking a small bag of candy each and an ice cream. With smiles and giggles at such a fun treat we all made our way to the check out counter. Excitedly, one of the youngest placed the small shopping basket on the counter and smiled in happy anticipation as the clerk began to scan the goodies. You would have thought the joy and excitement would have been apparent and contagious but instead the clerk looked at the sweet happy innocent face and said "oh boy, someone is going to have a lot of cavities!" All smiles vanished and sad confused looks crept into their place. I quickly and firmly, in as polite a manner as possible, gave a stern reprimand conveying that this was a birthday celebration, we were a big family, and this was a once in a while treat.

Never mind the fact that my kids hardly ever have soda, drink a ton of water, are vegetarian, have no sugary cereals, and as of last dental check up, my kids and I do not have a single cavity. Forget the fact that this person is not a doctor or health worker, does not know me or my family, and was never asked for advice or his opinion, I realized I had fond a cavity.

This cavity is one most do not notice or do anything about. You can not go to a dentist, and no amount of brushing or flossing will prevent or help correct this gap in people's thought process.

You see we were at a store where a lot of alcohol is sold. In fact the customers behind us were buying three cases of beer. Yet not once have I heard a store clerk say "Oh boy, I see someone wants to kill some more brain cells!" or "Oh boy, I see someone wants to go act like a fool!" or "Oh boy. I see you want to add to the chances of crime, stupidity, violence and death in the world!" or "Oh boy, I see someone is going to have liver problems!" I wonder how much alcohol they would sell then or how many customers they would  have. Yet how true those statements would be!

But nothing was said, nor have I ever heard such things said. I have heard people telling those overweight what they do and do not need to be eating and when, I have heard complete strangers tell children with candy that they will have cavities, I have heard carnivores telling vegetarians that they are weird and what they eat is gross (what could be more discusting then eating a dead animal, many of which are covered in feces as a bonus?). I have also heard people who drink asking people who don't if they are alcoholics and if not why they don't drink.

What is missing in our collective thinking? What type of crater has been created by a society were fiction, not fact, determines what we speak out against and what we choose to ignore. This is dangerous. Just like a cavity in your mouth, this type of thinking can grow, rot, become infected, and before you know it can create a  whole chain of problems.

So once home, while we all enjoyed our special treats and the important day, it was not cavities in my children's teeth I worried about. Instead it was the collective cavity in our society that I felt the need to protect not only our children, but our entire family from.

A Saturday

Some thirty odd years ago on a Saturday perhaps much like this one, I was born. There was not much warning and, according to my mother, hardly any pain. By all accounts I was beautiful, wide eyed, and far more aware then any other baby this doctor had seen. And he had seen his share for he delivered my mother some twenty odd years before and I am sure many in the years between. My big eyes followed every movement and studied the faces around me as I drank in everything in seemly quiet study, so quietly in fact that the doctor was afraid that something may be wrong and proceeded to poke me until I finally peeped a small but very communicative protest and he smiled and left me alone.

When I had surveyed everything about me, it seemed I realized that something was missing, someone was not there. In my anguish, I began to cry uncontrollably and would not be comforted by those around. I only slept when I fell into an exhausted slumber after crying for hours. In reality, I cried myself to sleep, and did so for the entire first week after my birth. Mother could not sooth me, grandmother had no success. Grandfather's beautiful singing and whistling were of no consequence, and doctors were puzzled. And then as suddenly as it began the crying stopped the moment my father returned and lifted me in his arms for the first time. You see the man I had grown to know and love, who I thought would protect me and love me in return was not there when I was born, and I knew it and was broken hearted that he had left me all alone in this new and uncharted place.

Oh he had made attempts to be there when I was born. He had come home for two weeks around my due date and he and mother had tried everything to ensure I would come...when it was convenient for him. You see my father loved my mother and me probably the very best he knew how. But the way he was raised did not lend to him knowing much about love and fatherhood and sadly he never seemed to realize that what he knew was lacking and because of that he never really tried to learn. His first and true love was his work, and he was good at it. In fact in all the years (and at times they seem a hundred fold to what they are) I have wondered the earth, I have met a lot of people in my father's profession and in all honesty, he is one of the very best in the world. This was wonderful for all those to whom he rendered his professional services to. But to those of us who really knew and loved him, it meant we were always second at best. So he tried to be there, as the story goes. In reality however, he tried to make me there when it was best for him. As the universe would have it, or perhaps as my stubborn soul would have it, I did not enter on que and was born without my father there.

Once I realized he was gone, my little heart broke and I cried and wailed, mourning a loss my soul as of yet had no other way to articulate but in cries of sadness and grief.

The moment he returned and held me and told me he was there once more, my crying ceased and I was one of the happiest, easiest, and well behaved babies many had ever seen. I thought everything would be ok from that day forward because my daddy, my protector, the only man I really knew and loved, was there with me. And I had no fear, no sadness, no worries for a short time. And life was bliss.

Now it is my birthday. There is no parade. No real warning. No special holiday. No presidential address. And I try my hardest always to cause as little pain as possible. And I am born again. My soul is beautiful and wide eyed. It is quiet and aware. As I drink in my surroundings in quiet study, some may think I am not ok. And I will allow a communicative protest.....

I begin to cry. No one seems to know why. But I realize the man I love the most is not here and I mourn his absence. You see his first love is his game. He doesn't know it, and would probably deny it. But those who love him and truly know him would tell you in a moment without hesitation. And he tried to celebrate my birthday, when it was convenient for him. He did everything he could to make it the most wonderful and special birthday ever. But the universe did not allow it. My birthday did not come. It came today. I am in a world where every day brings a new world and without him I feel lonely and afraid to face it. Uncharted and new, a day and year begin once more. Once more I am alone.

And the man I love the most is not here.

And so I mourn.

Once again it is a Saturday, it is my birthday, the man that I love is with his first love, and I am alone.

Some one hundred years from now, if we are still on this earth, perhaps on a Saturday much like this one, I will die.

There may not be any warning and I hope there will be no pain. I hope my soul was beautiful by all accounts and my eyes were wide open to the world and goodness around me. I pray my big eyes followed all that was pure and that I studied faces and movements about me. May I have been far more aware then most. Not always quiet , and some may still think something was wrong with me, but this time because of the joy, love, passion, and kindness with which I drank everything in. And I trust in a quiet firm way I protested all that was wrong.

Once again it is perhaps a Saturday, it is my dying day,  I do not know where the man that I love is, but I hope I am not alone.

Success

Most people I know have a need and deep seeded desire to do one thing, succeed. The problem? What does that word really mean and who defines it? I mean one could take the easy way out and let Ms. Webster define it, or even more often let others around you define it. But what is it really? I have met many people from all walks of life and find that when they are asked this question the answers are as varied as the people.

Some will say having money is success, others will say a prestigious job. And I have heard a gamete of others; fame, love, children, education, partners, properties, toys, experiences, acquaintances, sexual encounters, adoration, praise, being published, being known, social circles, societies, memberships, travels, food, shelter, freedom, abolishment of others or ideas, laws made, laws broken, evil undetected, evil conquered, clothes, things, owning, being owned, marriage, winning, hoarding, control, and the list is infinite.


But the truth I have found is that none of these are true success in any one's mind. Oh you might shake your head and strongly disagree, but please wait and hear me out.

The reason why there are so many different things that represent success to just as many different people is not because they are different in the way we casually think. It is due to the things they value, the societies they grew up in, the things they found lacking, what they admired, and ultimately what they grew to believe was of highest importance. And the way they came to these surmising are just as unique as each person, but the true reason is not.

The real reason we want to, long to, must succeed is ....
because we need to feel we mattered.

We need to feel, and if at all possible know, that as tiny specks on this grand planet in this vast universe and the great and splendid beyond, we made our mark, we did something that mattered, and that our life thus has value and meaning more then a mere flower that has bloomed and died. That we did not just live and die but our life had meaning and worth. And thus I am forced to realize that to succeed is not a mere word or description in a book full of explanations, but the soul crying out, " I was here and I mattered". And we all need that feeling for nothing leads to despair more quickly then the feeling of worthless existence.

With this new vision and take on a word so often thrown out and about in judgment and categorization, I now do not dismiss this as a frivolous generic word. I see it instead as a very real part of humanity and who we are as a species. Because of this I look at success as so much more and handle other's view of it as sacred to them and try my best not to trample or destroy it. For to do so is to destroy and possibly ruin the soul's chance to leave in peace when the time has come and not only leave in peace but leave with a satisfaction that the life they had, whether hard or easy, mattered.

And so I go out among you, fellow creatures and souls, wrapped in understanding and wish you all the very best and greatest success you can find!