Angel At The Prison Door

Janice Chang

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.” Rumi 

It was crunch-time and stomachs were churning.  The lunch-delivery menu options were offered to the three staffers and two consultants.  One of these new consultant-colleagues, KK, selected the “oxtail and beans” – my all-time favorite meal. Like a beam of light from another realm, I knew then and there that he was “good people.” We became instant friends.

“What draws friends together does not conform to laws of nature...
A hand shifts our birdcages around.
Some are brought closer. Some move apart." Rumi

At that time, my marriage was disintegrating in spectacular blow-out fashion. Concurrently, my spiritual life was burgeoning upward from the “low-level spirituality” to which I had accustomed myself. There was an almost unquenchable thirst for God.  

Image: whirlingdervishes.org

KK gave me a book of Rumi poems, the Sufi mystic poet and I were entranced.  Rumi’s poems gave voice to my new spirituality, my new thirst and my new feelings about God, despite the fact that my path was Christian and Rumi’s was Islamic.  “Lovers” is what Rumi called those who have these life-enhancing yearnings for spiritual matters. 

Work was increasingly stress-filled and negative.  I prayed for insight into why I was in that place. The Inner Voice answered and stunned me: “For Judy” – my new (then) but now life-long friend.  

I was there for her. 

The reason only became apparent many years later as our friendship flourished.  It was delayed as tragedy struck. My father died suddenly.  I was devastated and had never before felt such emotional pain.  Facing our mortality with the death of a loved one, we recognize that life is too short to be unhappy. So I resigned from the job and the inexorable death of my marriage progressed.  

It was then I decided to leave my children in the care of their father upon our separation and relocated to another Caribbean island.  I was dying inside. I managed to hold it together on my new job, pushing myself through the days but my nights alone were hard.  Then my former colleague (my oxtail-loving friend, KK) took the lead and became my strength and sustenance when he told me that he “had my back."

Image: thisgirlcanhelpit.com

In many religions, angels are depicted as benevolent “celestial” beings who act as intermediaries between Heaven and Earth, or as guardian spirits or a guiding influence.  Other roles of angels include protecting and guiding human beings, and carrying out God's tasks.

How did he know to call at that particular moment when the tears were overwhelming me and my heart was breaking into pieces?  How would he know that his affirmations of my worth as a person meant so much to my battered self-esteem? How could his seemingly simple questions lead me to explore the deeper meaning of my situation?  Statements and questions like:

• "Don’t feel too bad about feeling bad – embrace your mood whatever it is” and “Use your journal as signposts to reflect what is going on in your soul."

• Don’t let anyone take your dreams away.  They may not unfold as envisioned, but when you stop dreaming, your soul begins to die and it’s a slow excruciating death”

• “If you feel separated from God, then who moved?”

Then almost a year later, I read an article by a Jewish Rabbi Marc Gellman, based on a Genesis 37:15 question “What are you seeking?” He interpreted the question as “what are you looking for in life," and showed how the man who asked that question and who re-directed Joseph had played a pivotal role in history.  

With that question, Joseph located his brothers, setting off a course of events that saw him being sold into slavery, later elevated to working for the king of Egypt and culminating in him saving the Israelites during the great famine.  If this “man” had not been there at that time, Joseph would not have found his brothers and would have returned home. The history would have been so different.

Rabbi Gellman concluded that this was not just a man but an “angel” who provided direction, a messenger who delivered a much-needed message and, when the job was done, the cameo appearance in a life ended. 

That was what my oxtail-loving friend KK was and is to me, “my angel," when direction was needed. KK’s presence in my life was not by chance. He guided me to my healing; he was at my prison door, he showed me the way to the pasture and my calling. It was now my turn to be there for someone else - "For Judy."

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along." Rumi

Have you met an angel, someone who directed you to a point in your destiny? When did you recognize who you had encountered? Did you exit your prison door? Share your story with us by posting a comment here or on our Facebook page. You can also follow us on Twitter.

Be blessed and remember to "show hospitality to strangers as you might be entertaining angels."

Janice Chang is a medical doctor and lives in Michigan with her husband. 

Forcing Caesarean on Women is an Assault - DOS Weekly

Read here

“Forcing a woman to have a caesarean is an assault we won't tolerate,” writes Rebecca Schiller covering the story of women protesting outside Brazilian embassies across the world after a mother was denied the right to a natural birth. 

It is Saturday, April 12 and this is the twelfth edition of our Weekly and as always our stories are carefully selected to meet the interest of women all over! 

Other stories this week focus highlight women’ health: "Pap Rap' Might Be The Best Thing About A Pap Smear,” gender equity issues: "How The Middle East Is Solving the Gender Gap That Silicon Valley Is Ignoring” and relationship advice, our regular travel and our leisure stories for women. Lots of photographs and videos for your entertainment and relaxation over the weekend!

Do read here and we invite you to subscribe to DOS Weekly and get notification once the paper is hot off the keyboard.

For the rest of the weekend, connect with us through our Facebook page  and/or follow us on Twitter. 

Namaste

We Three Queens - Our Biggest Regrets

"What are your biggest regrets - either things you did or those you are sorry you never did?"

That was the question I posed to my fellow authors of this blog. They all "stared" at me blankly - well virtually as we were having a pow-wow via Facebook messenger.

Is it our ages, all over 30 is all I will say, and our memories have failed us as all three pleaded the Fifth!

"I have no regrets," or "I can't think of any," they all chimed or typed. For crying out loud, there must be something, one minute thing you regret?!

They all were going to tell me, "It's blessons," experiences from which they learned huge life lessons. Sure I understood, as how many times they have heard me say, "Regrets? I have none!"

"Think!" I pleaded. Okay, I demanded because this blog post needed to be written and I had no more ideas for this week.

Well, it worked at least with two. Here are our stories. I love my Sistahs, they always pull through:

Karen Jeanette

My biggest regret? Wow, where do I start? 

At the tender age of 12 all I wanted to do was to join the Peace Corps. My two passions in life are helping people and animals.  Joining the Peace Corps felt a natural fulfillment of one. It was something I knew deep down in my heart that I was in fact meant to do.  

This desire was expressed to my Mom on multiple occasions, who in turn, responded with a patronizing "Sure, Karen."  Soon after my 16th birthday, my Mom thought it was time to start planning "my future."

What plan???  I was joining the Peace Corps.  I just did not understand the disconnect. 

To fuel my fire, a few months later I met a young man three years my senior and who had the same aspirations and goals.  This young man (who soon became my fiancee) and I had our future planned out. WE were joining the Peace Corps.

Fast forward to age 17, the "future" discussion reared its ugly head for what would be the last time. My mother was not accepting or approving of said goals and aspirations.  It was her way or the highway.   

Even though I fancied the highway, my mother's disapproval could make it an unpleasant trip.  I am sad and embarrassed to admit that I caved, which was highly out of character for me ~ an otherwise rogue child. Certain she would disown me if I did not graduate from college, I also did not want to disappoint my Mother. 


Compromise: I suggested social work. Well so much for that! "NO," she said.  It was business administration or journalism.  Clearly not a writer, I opted for business administration. 

My acquiescing to Mother continued even after graduating from college. I continued to do what she deemed "best." I did, however, manage to squeeze in my second passion and worked at an animal shelter for a few years. My mother's ordained path was soon embarked upon when I became a senior financial analyst. This would be my career and I worked in this and similar positions in the financial sector for decades.  

Did I find happiness following this route? Not once. My biggest regret is not following my heart.

Clara Brown

It was a beautiful day in Kingston. I hurriedly left my desk and rushed through the office doors, making my way to a radio interview.  I was representing the company that I worked for and the interview was to promote our products and services. 

As I drove out in the company car, I realized it was low on petrol. The choices were to stop and fill up before getting to the interview or wait until I was returning to the office. 

It was a split second decision. With just a few moments to spare, I stopped to get the petrol.  While I waited to be served, there was a knock on my window. Startled, I looked up to see a very handsome gentleman in a beautiful suit beckoning to me. Somewhere between annoyed and polite, I rolled down my window and inquired, "Can I help you?"

He introduced himself and proceeded to be very complimentary about my car and my appearance.  My Divaship must have jumped out at him and had him stumped. I made polite conversation and shortly after, I was ready to roll.  We exchanged business cards and I made my way to the interview.  I must admit I could not stop thinking about him.

By the next day, we were on the phone constantly talking about everything. Those conversations led to lunch, followed by a drive out to the countryside.  I really enjoyed his company. Those interactions went on for about four months and before I could spell my name it turned into a blossoming romance. 

In the heights of our romance and after meeting my mother things dramatically changed. One day, before putting through the call, the receptionist told me there was a Mrs M. on the phone for me.  My heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. I knew that my boyfriend and his mother did not share the same last name, so I knew it was not her.  I reluctantly took the call. 

The caller identified herself again and proceeded to discuss her husband (my boyfriend) with me. In spite of my horror, not wanting to discuss such personal matters on the office phone, I decided to meet her.   

To put things into perspective, this call came four years into the relationship. Yet, I questioned my judgement, I questioned my intelligence, I questioned my naivety, I questioned every move from that fateful day at the petrol station.  Needless to say, I broke off the relationship after the meeting with Mrs. M.  She told me of his abuse to her, yet she confessed that she loved her husband and had no intention of leaving the marriage.

It was never my intention to be with someone who I could not trust or who could keep such vital information, like his being married, from me.  I felt used!  Today, Mrs M and I are better friends than I can say of Mr. M.

Nonetheless, despite the "great times" we had, I regret having that relationship.  

Claudette Esterine

Head first and feet flailing in the air. That is how I landed.

We were bored. Someone got a hold of one and within days we were all involved.

After many attempts and arguing about my abilities to get it right, I finally found my comfort zone. We were getting on just fine, slow at first but I was catching a "groove" and things were getting better.

Until that night.

To this day I have no idea why I agreed to go so far. Maybe it was the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks that lulled me into a false sense of calm? My viginity had been taken some time before so this should have been an easy ride.

We went too far.  I knew we had and I begged them to stop but none of them, yes there were two of them, none would listen to me. Instead, they called me a cry baby and just kept going - harder, faster and further.

Exhausted and not sure if I could make it, they agreed to stop. It was time to go home and face the music. There was no way we could deny how far we had gone. The telltale signs were there - out of breath, sweaty and a pungent smell.

It happened on the return home. Pumping hard to get back before the door was closed, I was losing control very quickly. The blaring horns of the last bus of the night from Annotto Bay to Ocho Rios was getting closer.

I panicked. Inches away from me or so it seemed but I dared not look back to confirm, the bus driver thumped on the horn and never raised his fist.

My heart was about to burst from my chest just after my ear drums would splatter and rundown my shirt front. Sensing death was nigh, I did the only thing my scattered brain could think to do.

Image: nowtoronto.com

I veered a sharp left just as we got to the first house and street light in the district. Having no time to notice what was in my path, I landed head first in a garbage can!

The raucous laughter of my two cousins who had led the bicycle trip miles into the neighbouring district, brought everyone out to witness my disgrace!

As they pulled me out, my nickname changed to "Headtop."

It was summer 1975 and I was spending the school break in Oracabessa, St. Mary. My immediate regret was getting on that bicycle in the first place, especially on that narrow and dark rural road.

My second regret - never getting back on a bicycle ever since.

Do you have  story of regret or  blesson that you would like to share with us? Leave a comment here. Please also visit and *Like* our Facebook page. You can also follow us on Twitter and always stay in touch.

Have a great weekend!

Karen Jeanette is a member of the DOS Facebook Group and lives in Arizona, USA with her beautiful family. She is one of our regular Guest Authors.

 Clara Brown is an Insurance Executive and lives in St. Andrew,  Jamaica with her spouse and only child, Jared. She is one of our regular Guest Authors. 

 Claudette Esterine is the Founder of Daughters of Sheba Foundation and Editor of our blog. She is a Jamaican-Canadian and a Free Spirit.

Diversity - Loving All of Me

Karen Jeanette - Guest Author

Only five years old and I was already becoming most concerned about my appearance.  I had to wear “those shoes” with “this top” and “my favorite skirt.”  As you can well imagine, especially if you have a five year old in your life, my tastes were completely inconsistent. This was a source of great frustration for my single mom!

That was just the tip of the iceberg. See, my sense of "looks" ran beyond my clothing and extended to my skin color.  And that of my various family members.  Quite frankly, I think that might have been when my confusion commenced.  Everyone had a different skin colour and different types of hair. Huh? 

I kept looking in the mirror trying to figure out how and where did I fit in.  

Photo Courtesy of: www.webstockpro.com

So too the other children - they tried to 'place' me and would ask, “What are you?” Going to the source of all knowledge, I asked my mother. Her reply, “You’re black and that’s all that matters.”

She explained that growing up she was told, "If any part of you is black then you are black."  Well, I took that as gospel and ran with it.

And I continued to run with it, even after learning the specifics of my ethnic composition. On my maternal father's side, I am of African descent. There is also Native American “Delaware Indian" tribe, German, Latin and British (Dorset County in England) flowing in my bloodstream.  

Photo Courtesy of Delaware Public Archives

That explained why my Dad had bone straight hair, why my mother, who was very fair, had long wavy hair and purposely tanned in the summer (which frankly, I never understood).  I also learned from a cousin that some of the Native American members of my father’s family still reside in or around Bartlesville, Oklahoma "on and off the reservation." This knowledge would later lead me to participate in and assist with the coordination of Pow-Wows and other Native American meetings/gatherings.

I was shown our family tree sometime in my 20's and it was explained to me by my cousin. He was so proud of our family history and completely embraced our diversity.  I, on the other hand, was honestly shocked to discover the diversity of our family lineage.  It was at this point that I SLOWLY began to embrace it.

Yet, I was still a bit reticent to declare this to anyone. Remember, my mother told me, "If any part of you is black then you are black."  Consequently, to my mind then, being black is all I should and would acknowledge.

Years later, after the passing of my paternal grandmother, I arrived at my cultural crossroad.

 

Observing the blend of the funeral attendees, that all these people in all of their diversity were “family” - my blood relations - my heart opened.  It was truly my "aha" moment and was rather revealing (and sort of shocking) for me to see this first hand. My family ~ my very diverse family, the blend in me that I had so adamantly denied.   

I Love All Of Me! ♡
Photo Courtesy of: naturalitabaker.blogspot.com

It was at this point that I finally told myself “Karen, you are truly unique and you embody many different cultures ~ it's time to embrace them.” 

This was the moment, at my grandmother's funeral that I truly learned to love “all of me.”

Share your diversity journey with us here, on our Facebook page or on Twitter.

Namaste

Karen Jeanette is a member of the DOS Facebook Group and lives in Arizona, USA with her beautiful family. She is one of our regular Guest Authors.

Wellness Is Our Natural State - Audio Blog

Claudette Esterine

Today's audio blog is on wellness and asks the question - how are you really?  Listen HERE.

Transcript

We often greet each other with the question, "How are you?"


Many times I have noticed that people do not stop to hear a complete answer. Is that because they are really not interested or is it that they know that your response, "I'm well," is not true? When you say "I am well," is this a routine, automatic response or are you really well?

In Jamaica there is a saying, "tek kin teet an kibba heart bun." Translation: smile and cover your heart ache. That kind of smiling we also call a plastic smile. It is pasted and set on your face, spread across your lips but if someone is really interested to know how you are doing, they just have to check your eyes to know the truth.

The dictionary defines 'Wellness' as "the state or condition of being in good physical and mental health." The World Health Organization says "wellness is an active process of becoming aware of and making choices toward a healthy and fulfilling life." Wellness, they state "is a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity."

Going by that definition, most of us then simply are not well. We are not in a state of COMPLETE physical, mental and social well-being. Then why do we insist on responding "I'm well, thank you?" Could it be that we HOPE to be well? Or that we innately know that wellness is our natural state?

The McKinley Health Center's website states that: "Wellness is a state of optimal well-being that is oriented toward maximizing an individual’s potential. This is a life-long process of moving towards enhancing your physical, intellectual, emotional, social, spiritual, and environmental well-being."

A life-long process, one that we move towards. So we "fake it until we make it" each day.

Yet, some, many in fact might disagree as they see nothing "well" about aging. What I know for sure, one of my favourite statements by Oprah, is that aging or maturing as I prefer to say is not equivalent to degrading. It can be and it is for many and life does not improve nor do they become "well."

Yet, I have seen an abundance of "wellness" around me, people who are not only maturing in numbers but are getting "Weller." When I question them as to what explains their glow, the answers usually include a diet suited to their body type, lots of rest and relaxation, minimal to no stress, exercise and Love.

Never money but always love.

Internationally acclaimed medical doctor, cancer specialist and author, latest book being "The Art of Healing: Uncovering Your Inner Wisdom and Potential for Self Healing," Bernie Siegel puts it this way: "I am convinced that unconditional love is the most powerful known stimulant of the immune system. If I told patients to raise their blood levels of immune globulins or killer T cells, no one would know how. But if I can teach them to love themselves and others fully, the same changes happen automatically. The truth is: love heals."

In my own life I am experiencing more and more the healing power of love. With every day that I am able to expand my heart's capacity to love more, the more opportunities come to me to love. Not only that. I have also noticed windows and doors opening where they were once closed, improving my material well being. Substances be it healthier food, drinks, supplements, are coming to me and significantly improving preexisting conditions in my body.

My relationships with people are deepening and way more intimate and loving. Those that serves neither me nor the other party are removed from my experience. My intimate relationship is beyond compare! I have walked with a soulmate before but now, I have melded with another.

Am I well? Not completely based on the earlier definitions but I am getting there because as the classical hymn says, "It is well with my soul."

Wellness is a process of returning to Love. That would be my final answer. My question is, are you on the road?

Share your journey with us here, on our Facebook page or on Twitter.

Continue to have a super-well day!



Claudette Esterine is the Founder of Daughters of Sheba Foundation and Editor of our blog. She is a Jamaican-Canadian and a Free Spirit.