On Freedom

Shared with permission from my friend Jackie Capers Brown on Facebook:

One of the dictionary meanings of the word freedom is the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

Another dictionary definition of freedom is the absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government. A despotic government is a form of government in which a single entity rules with absolute power. Normally, that entity is an individual, the despot, as in an autocracy, but societies that limit respect and power to specific groups have also been called despotic.

On July 4th every year the United States of America celebrates the day that 13 colonies decided to claim their independence from England. 

It is the evolution of this country and what it might become when all citizens are respected and feel they are valued and capable of using their civil liberties to create the change they seek that will cause us to always be at crossroads throughout the history of this nation. This is a normal part of the evolution process.

The United States of America is not perfect, nor will it ever be. Humans are imperfect. Our challenge as citizens, regardless of race, is for us to not lose sight that this democracy can only see better days as we the people unite to respect, value, demonstrate empathy and genuine care and concern for one another.

For too long, we have allowed our country to be run by political parties, special interest groups, big business, wealthy and influential people who have not had our collective best interest in mind.

It's time that we the American people who understand the challenge but are up to it - begin the process of our turnaround in our communities with a focus on UNITY. Finding common ground with people that don't look like us for our collective common good.

The degree in which we can come together and find common ground and address community issues UNITED will reflect the degree to which we can rise up, TOGETHER.

For example, we the people need to use our freedom to decide that every citizen and person in this nation has a right to equal justice regardless of his or her skin color, gender, religion, sexual orientation etc. We need to establish what that looks and feels like and hold elected officials accountable for taking action that makes it a reality.

There is a cost for freedom. There are sacrifices we must make for freedom. There is a level of maturity we must demonstrate to actualize the American dream written in our constitution. 

I believe that each of us has been born for such a time as this.
I believe that all of the divisiveness and hate we are seeing in our country is a mirror reflection of the condition of our country's soul. 

And, unless, we are ready to relinquish the control of this nation to one person or political figure, each of us needs to take time to reflect on how we can use our unique code of greatness towards elevating our country to the next level.

We have to raise our personal standard as to how we will show up in this world and the impact we are having towards creating a better world for the generations behind us.

We cannot continue to live in ways that urge us to forgo the future benefits of becoming UNITED NOW to appease our tendency for instant gratification. It is clear that this approach is causing great harm to the citizens of this country, and the country itself.

IT'S DECISION TIME

I believe this moment in our collective history is calling us to make a decision. Will we step into a higher version of ourselves for the collective good of all?

We have demonstrated during times of great challenges that we can do this. Will this moment go down in our country's history where we decided to rise above our petty differences and find common ground from which we can begin to rebuild and heal in order to move forward?

We can respect our individual differences while honoring that which UNITES us. We can RISE UP and become the people who are capable of living our constitution out loud.

Our individual and collective decisions will determine the fate of our country. The acceptance of this reality provides each of us with the great freedom to choose how we will impact our family, community, and country's legacy.

#freedom #july4th #decisiontime #personalresponsiblity #usa

Thank you, Jackie, for allowing me to share this here and for sharing your voice, your vulnerability, and your love with me. Love and Politics on Clemson Road welcomes you.

About Jackie Capers Brown

Catch up with Jackie's significant and meaningful work here.

Who’s in?

This is an open invitation to anyone who wants to write a blog on the topic of Love & Politics to contribute to this space. It’s safe here, I promise. You are welcome here. You don’t have to agree with me or anyone else. Just tell us a story. Make a case. Make an effort.

Leave a comment if you’d like to contribute or reach out to me kasie@clemsonroad.com and let's talk.

Tears Streaming and Chest High

From my friend Robert Burgess on Facebook:

I’d like to wake up just one morning and not relive black trauma at every moment.

It would be to nice roll over and kiss my beautiful wife, hug my exceptional children and have black grief ignore me for just one day.

But that is not today. Probably won’t be tomorrow. Or anytime soon.

Reality is waking up in a thick cloud of frustration, anxiety, fear and anger.

Reality is operating in that volcanic space at work, in conversations and alone as if things are normal but truthfully there is an F5 tornado swirling around my mind.

Reality is layering those feelings with a pandemic, an economic crisis and a white supremacist President.

The weight is enough to break any aware, lucid human, black or not.

Yet...inequality in Black spaces has evolved our ability to persevere despite the traumatic obstacles. Like ocean fins to feet, it came out of the need to survive and lives on.

The indelible resilience of the black spirit.

That despite the forces arrayed against us, we still kiss the ones we love, work hard for our families and tell grief that we will not be moved and if we DO move, we will march in solidarity, vote like our lives depend on it, advocate for our community and take the action that can no longer wait.

Tears streaming and chest high.

I still wake up with black trauma swirling in the air but I am filled with hope. This hope says I will fight until our laws, our education system, our healthcare system, the environment, the carceral system and economic outlook prove Black Lives Matter.

That in itself feels like a miracle.

Thank you, Robert, for allowing me to share this here and for sharing your voice, your vulnerability, and your love with me. Love and Politics on Clemson Road welcomes your voice.

Who’s in?

This is an open invitation to anyone who wants to write a blog on the topic of Love & Politics to contribute to this space. It’s safe here, I promise. You are welcome here. You don’t have to agree with me or anyone else. Just tell us a story. Make a case. Make an effort.

Leave a comment if you’d like to contribute or reach out to me kasie@clemsonroad.com and let's talk.

Love & Politics on Clemson Road

On January 21, 2017, I attended the Women’s March in Washington D.C. I carried a sign that said, “Because Love” on one side and “Because Hope” on the other.

 

I was there to heal. To understand what the fuck had just happened in the 2016 election when our broken system failed. It failed to deliver a slate of candidates who were (1) qualified, (2) inspiring, and (3) worthy of the great honor of being President.

I’m a Libertarian and I voted for Gary Johnson. Leading up to the election all I heard was that my vote would help elect Trump. Or Clinton. Not sure how that works that one vote for Gary Johnson counted three times: Against Clinton, Against Trump, and FOR the candidate I actually wanted.

But if I’m honest, even Johnson wasn’t the leader I was looking for.

So at the Women’s March I stood shoulder to shoulder with women who were worried about their reproductive rights, about the future of our country, and the lack of decency in politics and in the White House.

In the four years since then we have been on a wild ride. One that has further polarized and isolated us from each other and from what we think our government can and should do for us.

During the pandemic I was horrified at our country’s willing surrender of pretty much every civil right we have. Like supplicants, we looked to our government and begged it to save us. And if that wasn’t bad enough, our government failed. Like big time.

So what now? Where do we go from here?

That’s what this blog will attempt to reason out. Let’s think it through. Let’s talk it out. There are no easy answers and that’s okay. I don’t need easy and you shouldn’t want easy. Easy got us here: sadness, grief, anger, and frustration.

"Easy" – the idea that our politicians could and would fix it, that we “deserve” better, that we don’t have to do the work because they will – “Easy” got us where we are. And this place is at best unsustainable and at worst, a total failure of a citizenry to care for one another.

Something’s got to give.

Let us bring the LOVE. Bring the HOPE. Bring compassion, bring optimism, bring a willingness to roll up your sleeves and do the work. Bring your words and let’s work on this together.

Who’s in?

This is an open invitation to anyone who wants to write a blog on the topic of Love & Politics to contribute to this space. It’s safe here, I promise. You are welcome here. You don’t have to agree with me or anyone else. Just tell us a story. Make a case. Make an effort.

Leave a comment if you’d like to contribute or reach out to me kasie@clemsonroad.com and let's talk.

ROAR!!! Then wait. Repeat as necessary.

I’ve always loved March’s “in like a lion, out like a lamb” dichotomy. On the one side, there’s a fierce restlessness and on the other, a kind of peaceful hopefulness.

It’s not much of a stretch to say I’ve repeated this pattern in my life almost as if, being born in this month, I was given a script by which to operate.

I can be very Lion-ish about certain things. I once identified it as my leadership style. The entrepreneur in me, the would-be punk with mismatched clothes and wild hair, she’s a Lion. Nonconformist, freedom-loving, and willing to debate and argue politics. She’s been woke these last few years after #MeToo, #Resist, and #ShePersisted. She’s been willing to admit her privilege and tried to be empathetic to the journey others are on.

A lion is a pack animal, protective and focused on doing what needs to be done. We’re talking the Nala kind of lion, not Simba the slacker.

Photo Courtesy ScreenPrism.com

My lion side wants to force things, take the lead, share a vision that others embrace and respond to. She’s writing the entrepreneurism “textbook” (more of a digital course supplement than traditional textbook). She sees gaps in the marketplace.

My lion side gets discouraged and frustrated when she can’t rally people to the cause. Why don’t we have more listeners on our radio show? Why can’t we get people to participate in our local authors book club? Why is it so hard to build a tribe?

If you build it, they will come isn’t exactly a business strategy. My lion side knows this. She wants to work, to hustle, to build.

Then there’s the lamb. She sacrifices herself. She accepts a certain kind of dismissal, overlooking, and low expectations. She doesn’t bite back when people say, “If you can do it, so can I.” (Cuz really, fuck that. No, you can’t.)

She smiles with grace and dignity when she’s denied funding for an idea. When she loses a sale. When she’s ignored by decision makers, king makers, in this town. She defers: recommends and promotes others into roles she ought to be Lion-ish about. She gives.

And then she lays down and waits.

And this frustrates my lion side. I want to advocate but am I standing on an empty shore and spitting into the wind?

It’s my birthday month. A traditional month of introspection for me. The year I turned 40 I started a little journal of the “well-lived life” things I was going to do: read more female authors (check), spend more time with family (check), donate more clothing (umm), build Hollie’s scrapbook (umm), submit to more journals (yes, but with sad results).

It’s three years later and I’m no worse off now than I was then. I’ve published a book, earned a full-time faculty position, and established the only school for consultants in South Carolina. I’ve also gotten into some of the habits I wanted to establish like attending live events and blogging more regularly.

This month I’ll be taking stock again. The lamb in me wants to understand where I’ve been and how to course correct. The lion in me wants action.

Rest in peace, sir: The Lion, the Owl, and the St Bernard

This week I worked with my classes on goal setting. To get them in the right mindset of thinking beyond “Get an A” as their goal for the term, I encouraged them to consider the various areas of their lives where they’d like to see some improvement.

We named categories like friends and family, finances, health and wellness, and art and culture. Would they set a goal to spend more time with relatives? To save more money? To work out daily? Or to attend at least one “culture” event per month?

In those goal setting classes, I talk a lot about having a balanced life, one that is rich in relationships, purpose, and joy. A life they would want others to say was well-lived.

Too often over the past few years I’ve had the occasion to think of the end-of-life and the things we say about others after they’ve passed. In each circumstance, I wondered if the work I’m doing daily is building, as the poet says, out of the lumber of my life a temple or a tavern.

This week I learned the man who taught me the very goal setting practice I use in the classroom is nearing the end of his life. He’s comfortable, his daughter says, and at peace. And when I got word through Facebook, I felt pride in the work I’m doing and in the way his lessons have stayed with me.

The Lion

I was a sophomore in high school when Captain Blakeman took the highest officers of our Naval Junior Officers Training Corps (NJROTC) battalion on a retreat weekend for strategic planning for the following year. It was the 4H camp in Front Royal, Virginia, and it was an incredible experience. 

Our first exercise was to self-identify our leadership style. I remember claiming to be a Lion: fierce, bold, and willing to take risks. That may be where the entrepreneur in me lives. The writer, the Libertarian, the nonconformist that wears flannels and t-shirts with my business skirts and heels.

Later, during a strategy session, Captain Blakeman explained how each goal could be broken into three strategic objectives and each objective into tasks we could easily do daily, weekly, or monthly. It was my first experience with itemizing work: what will it take to get us where we want to go? Captain Blakeman’s system explained how to create a plan not only for myself but for any team, any organization, and any effort I was meant to lead.

The Owl

My entire career has been built on itemized work organized in the pattern he taught me all those years ago. Even my personal life follows this intentional exercise. Every January I organize the next year’s vision into a series of objectives to achieve and tasks to perform. I’ve become less ferocious and demanding, and more measured and analytical. I’m Owl-like in middle age.

It’s unlikely I’ll have the chance to say goodbye to Captain Blakeman. I’m not alone in these fond memories of what he taught in his decades-long career as a Naval officer and Naval Science Instructor. It’s unlikely he’d remember me, just one of hundreds of teenagers in whose life he made an impact.

The St. Bernard

In all the reflections I’ve been able to do over those we’ve lost, I’m reminded of the third leadership style, that of the St. Bernard. Caring, kindness, compassion and a willingness to go where others won’t to provide relief and comfort.

On the retreat when he had us self-identify our leadership style according to those iconic animals, Captain Blakeman didn’t tell us that the very best leaders know when to be what. Somehow, I think he knew we would come to that conclusion in our own time.

Thanks, Captain Blakeman. May your journey be peaceful and your rest eternal.

Meeting Your Characters IRL

This post originally appeared on the Columbia II Writers Workshop blog. It's revived here because I think this audience would appreciate it, too. Enjoy!

Years ago, I went home to Northern Virginia over a school break and met my mom for lunch at Uno Pizzeria. It was on the corner of the most upscale shopping center in our area and it was one of my favorite places to eat.

I’d been away at college for a while and had been writing the novel that would become After December. I knew the story was about Brian Listo, a version of myself I felt confident sharing with others. He was arrogant, privileged, and good at everything he did. He also smoked and drank like it was his job and was kind of a slut.

I loved him. And he loved me back. Through the troubled years surrounding my parents’ divorce and the break-up of our family, when I moved away from Northern Virginia and only rarely went back, Brian was with me.

Josh, actor portraying Brian in the Fanatik Productions trailer

Imagine how it felt to see him walk into Uno Pizzeria. 

As my mom continued talking to me, I watched Brian move through the bar area. Watched him greet his friends who did not resemble the other characters of the book. Watched him light a cigarette and take a deep drink from a tall beer. The afternoon sunlight played on the shades of dirty blonde and light brown in his hair. His grey gaze seared me from across the room.

Day drinking, flannel-wearing, ridiculously hot Brian stood just yards away.

Of course, it wasn’t him. Searing gaze aside, he was just some handsome college-aged guy that looked like he could have been Brian. To the one-raised eyebrow, he could have been him. But of course he wasn’t.

Neither was Josh, the actor who stood in my kitchen listening to me explain how Brian’s kind of an asshole. And how he’s trying not to be. You know, character arc and all that. Then Josh went upstairs, got in bed with Meli, and filmed the opening scene of the book for the trailer.

Being with an actor who is trying to learn more about Brian so he can accurately portray him was both terrifying and thrilling. Josh looks like Brian. Not as much as that guy in Uno 20 years ago, but a lot like him. And he’s handsome and he has a great smile. But as soon as he started talking, he sounded young. Like Millennial young, and I remembered the literary agent that asked me if After December had to be set in the 90s.

Yes, yes it does. 

Josh is a good actor, he really is. Watching the filming of the trailer was awesome. Thanks to Fanatik Productions for putting it together. 

Being in the same room with your characters is the ultimate thrill.

A few weeks back, I visited those Northern Virginia locations where the book is set. Many, like Uno, are no longer in business. But I went anyway. Waxed nostalgic for the 90s and crossed my fingers I'd run into Brian Listo again. Of course, he’d probably have his teenaged son with him.

Here's the link to the trailer they filmed. It's fantastic.

The Grown Up Version of My Tween Dream is Published

In the scene I remember best, Tony lay bleeding on the floor of the cave where they’d built a ramp to skate. All the ramps they skated had these cool names: one in the sewers was called Ratwall and the one in an ocean-front cave (a la The Lost Boys) was called Angel’s Lair. 

I’m not sure how my 7^th grade novelist thought they lit that cave. Torches maybe? Candles? Or some sunlight falling through openings in the ceiling?

Anyway there was a giant half pipe and Brian and his Crew used to skate there. Tony had gone down inside and confronted Kevin, a friend with a bad drug habit who had betrayed the Crew. Kevin stabbed him.

Brian found Tony, bleeding, tried to patch him up, realized he couldn’t get him out, and finally held him, weeping, while he died.

I wrote that scene a dozen times. Best friends in their final moments together. Betrayal. Violence. Devastation. Loss.

What did my seventh-grade novelist self know about such things? Only what she’d read, seen in movies, and imagined.

Imagined.

For the duration of the year we lived in Aptos, California, I imagined what it would be like to have a group of really cool skateboarder friends. Brian would lead them of course, with Tony as his best mate, Jason and Joel as identical twins, and Kevin, the Judas among them.

All those days in the window seat of the house in Aptos, scribbling in pencil into spiral notebooks imagining the day I’d be a novelist. My name on the cover of a book. My characters walking around in people’s heads. Thirteen-year-old me building the foundation of my ambition. A dream.

And this year, it’s been realized.

I have a book. It’s not Tony bleeding in a skate ramp cave, but it is Tony bleeding, dying, and Brian’s loss. His regret. His shame.

It’s a hard book to read, I’m told, because it’s so sad. And yet I don’t feel sad by it. I’m glad to have released it. Freed it. Freed them all to breathe among the readers like feathery seeds of dandelions adrift on the breeze.

In freeing them, I also feel free. And nervous (will they like it?). And proud (look what I made!). And relieved. This thing I’ve been working at, this thing I thought one day I’d do, I did it.

Here’s the link to the book’s site. And where you can buy it on Amazon. And the Launch Day event on Facebook. There will be giveaways and behind-the-scenes and merriment and Q&As and suchness. Find me on Instagram for videos. Check out the trailer here.

More than anything, though, even if you never buy my book, find that dream you had that time and figure out how to make it happen. Because there’s a fulfillment beyond comparison in doing so.