We Americans…. October 31, 2009

What is happening?

I watched, just this morning, Michael Moore’s film, ‘Sicko’ (from 2007), while just earlier reading Brian Patrick Cork’s Saturday blog about the recent credit card travesty and diabolical ‘adjustment’ meant to further cripple and keep Americans hostage.

Having just reviewed the increase in healthcare costs for me and my employees and having in the same week received this year’s land taxes and increased costs from a variety of service providers, (while balancing internal work having part of my team out sick), all the while working tirelessly to build and grow my company, to make good decisions, spend my money well to increase revenue, quality and service, I am supremely and outrageously, disappointed. I work daily to balance my growing employer costs and to make good decisions which serve my business, my employees, my clients, my community and myself.

For the folks without a ‘fight’ gene, or an ability to strategize their own positive growth around this miasm of self serving change and dour conditions in America, (I’m talking culture and perspective), it all looks sadly hopeless, this coming from a Polly Anna of positivity. I’m pissed.

And wait til I soon share some incredulous happenings within my own community.

My risks are a part of who I am, my personality. I’m an artist and I’m an entrepreneur. Though, as I visit with all sorts of folks throughout my busy weeks, people wanting a quality of life, simple, reasonable, I am most saddened. They fall back into fear which is paralysing. How to take care of a sick child, pay their mortgage, afford a few days away from work. I find myself quietly fuming in my safe home, considering what action the government or my bank might pull as I diligently pay my monthly mortgage.

No matter what our differences, we ultimately rise or fall together. How do we take care of one another, despite our differences? Why can’t we learn from other cultures, France, England, Mexico, models of healthcare which actually CARE for people, promote wellness. How might we blend the ideals of democracy in a framework that allows us achievers and risk takers to rally while creating a system which supports those weaker to do their best, to guide, educate and enable others to thrive within what is possible for them. How do we enable others to do better for themselves. I want to be part of that trolley car initiative.

Why the greed, intolerance, judgment? What IS THE PROBLEM? How did our culture in particular become so self centered, greedy? Insurance companies, drug companies, how is it that daycare, banks and school systems have become so entirely ‘schewed’….I can’t find the right word. I feel on the periphery of many of these issues as I focus my energies elsewhere, my ability to keep up with all the change limited as I endeavor to work toward my own passions. How much time do we have as Americans to multitask and seek out answers to all the issues impacting us as we raise families, build our businesses, contribute to causes which matter to us?

Just as our greatest wars are fought within ourselves, so too are the greatest wars for our country within our very own borders.

I am working on an initiative within my very own Carl House business to champion the cause of other service providers in my industry, including facilities like mine. There is enough business for us all. Their success is my success. I am not lessened by their good work or ideas but rather encouraged, inspired to do better.

How might we all become part of fearless solutions instead of limited reasoning on how things can’t or won’t work. I work on the same thinking with my team at Carl House. ‘Bring me a better idea. Share how we might help one another do better, serve our customers better.’ It’s a mindset and a choice.

I’m embarrassed by areas within our government, not just nationally, limited thinkers, greedy marauders within my own community, leading people by selfish means.

This diatribe issued forth on Halloween, a scarier day than I ever imagined. We need a new day in America.

BB Webb

Simple perhaps……though… October 29, 2009

Sufi Dancers

We don’t know what we don’t know….until we know it.

And at that point, where the sky hits the sea, or the idea becomes form or the mosquito hits the glass, we are but awash in the ever unfolding process of becoming.

And on and on and on it goes.

Might we be on occasion privy to the loveliness (really) of the dance.

BB Webb

If it truly IS darkest before the dawn…. October 27, 2009

….Some levity is needed.

Let’s all just take a collective deep breath, count to 3, (I’ll count to 13), imagine where you want to be and trust a little…and then a little more. Wait….wait….wait…… ‘Boo’!…..there or better in a flash.

Darkest before the dawn….hmmmmmm…. What’s the WORST that could happen??? Better YET, what’s the BEST thing that could happen?? I’m going there.

BB Webb

Are you a ‘Stuffer’??? October 26, 2009

Are you? Do you ‘stuff’ down what you’re feeling….hold your tongue, distract yourself with ‘happy thoughts’ or pout away because you just couldn’t express what you were feeling? Do you tend to blame the other guy, refuse to take ‘ownership’ for what occurs in your life, focus on that glass that is clearly half empty in your eyes. Do you eat to cover your pain or choose other distractors like alcohol, drugs, excessive work or who knows what else.

I seem to be on a pensive trail just now…stay with me if you can…it’s no doubt leading somewhere; for me it is and possibly stirring up some thought for you. (Perhaps you need to play the soundtrack below to get you in the mood and frame of mind for this particular post)!

I’m just wondering. As I watch my own life and patterns, similar to a movie trailer, one scene building up to the next, the players, the background scenery, how my face changes, my hairstyles, the clothes I wear and for me, thankfully the animals and few people who act as angels and well, all the folks with whom I come in contact are teachers on my path.

I watch how my time has been spent over the years, the passions and furies, the tender and angry moments, the delusions that have accompanied my life lessons leading to the epiphanies, disappointments, breakthroughs. I’m looking at the choices I’ve made and the ones I’m considering.

I see too where I have and have not played it ‘safe’. I see how ‘outloud’ my journey has been and I’m wondering how you, how others view their lives so far and really how conscious your choices or mine have been.

Many days feel like a cloud of habitual tendencies, a drive and relentlessness because, because to ME, with regard to relentlessness, there is no option. I’ve a small circle of allies in this arena, only a few who understand that gene or certainly who might hold a space for the enormity of that drive. It just is.

I’m curious what you feel about YOUR options. How did my mother or your mother see the choices in her life? Where was she intent on ‘arriving’ in her life? What were her strengths, the possibilities she saw?

I’m just wondering as I consider my weeks and months ahead, what moves are best for the next scene of my play.

Maybe we’re all made of the same old stuff. I’m wondering.

I like finding the truth, for me….this truth and the next. And perhaps it’s similar to yours….or not.

I’ll send this song out to a special friend…perhaps the right people DO show up just when you need them, and maybe when they need you.

I continue to trust the magic.

BB Webb

The choices we make… October 25, 2009

Everyday we have an opportunity. I’m thinking of my two friends. I’m thinking of my friend with cancer and I’m thinking of my friend who feels she is at the end of her rope.

My few best friends are facing challenging situations in their lives. As I sit with them, and as I send them my very best thoughts and energy, I know I am doing good.

Moreover, they are doing ‘good’…and they are doing well. I watch the battles within themselves and how they move through them. They are brave women, different as can be yet there is a cord of similarity which runs through us.

I had a discussion with a friend about the words warrior vs soldier. I prefer warrior as soldier, in the definitions I’ve found, soldier seems to lean more toward military service and, to me, I hold images of warrior in a different way. (Words perplex me…their scope and diversity and how personal they are to each of us).

war⋅ri⋅or  [wawr-ee-er, wawr-yer, wor-ee-er, wor-yer] Show IPA –noun
1. one who is engaged in or experienced in battle.
2. one who is engaged aggressively or energetically in an activity, cause, or conflict: neighborhood warriors fighting against developers.
3. a person who shows or has shown great vigor, courage, or aggressiveness, as in politics or athletics.
4. a person engaged or experienced in warfare; soldier.

Yes, my friend’s battles are within themselves. They are not part of a fire brigade or a rescue brigade, they are fighting, leaning toward more a self actualization.

And then I remembered…while stumbling through some websites on brainwave technology…reiterating what I believe with the law of attraction.

‘Everything you are is the result of what you have thought. Our attitudes, beliefs, and thoughts attract related positive and negative physical/mental manifestations and experiences. In other words, you get what you think most about, whether you want these experiences/manifestations or not. This concept has been prevalent among many philosophers and spiritual advocates for thousands of years.

So, what do you think most about everyday? Does anger, worry, fear, anxiety, depression, aggression, instability, paranoia, irritability, or moodiness lead your mental/emotional state and thoughts? If so, then experiences validating these thoughts are exactly what you will continue attracting into your life.‘

I am watching my friends move into their aliveness in new ways as they wipe away what doesn’t work, as they move BEYOND their anger, their doubt and cynicism. Out of their cocoons, through the hardships, disappointments, naive expectations, someone new is emerging, their bodies are changing, their faces indeed are softer and there is less rigidity in their walk. I love experiencing the change and am eager to see what might next manifest in their lives.

They have made new choices and it’s working for them. I am inspired and will remember this when I return again myself to the places which serve me not.

The possibilities on where we might fly are endless.

BB Webb

At the end of her rope… October 23, 2009

I’m wondering….what does one do when they feel at the end of their rope?

I’m thinking of someone I am very, very close to….I’ve known her all my life. She’s a most complex, emotional and passionate person. When she’s scared, feels misunderstood, is lost in hopelessness or cornered, she gets angry, an anger that certainly no man has been able to tame or sit with. I however can. I’ve known her for years and her fury, when tapped, is unmatched. It boils sometimes for months even years, but when that geyser is ready to blow, stand back. Only later do her endless tears and sobs bring a refuge. When channeled creatively, she can set the world on fire. Though tonight she was both angry and something else which I’d not seen before. Frankly, it was a little scary.

She asked me some things this evening. She’s typically a very bright and positive person but tonight, she was filled with disdain, dark, anger covering a helpless sadness. I could see she felt terribly, inexorably alone. I felt it in her hollow eyes. With big movements and gestures, a furrow on her brow, ‘What happens,’ she asked me, her voice high pitched yet commanding, ‘when your options seem out. When your money WON’T stretch any more, when the risks are beginning to outweigh sense, your ability to swing with what’s coming at you in terms of not just resources but possibly your sense of self, your flexibility is challenged and you feel at the end of that rag tag filament’?

‘I’m clearly being tested as every day there are not one, but three challenges which a year ago would have made me completely crumble.’ She sat down for a moment, in thought, her head down, ‘I have you’ a slight smile, ‘but’, (and she meant no offense), ‘I need something more.’ She stood again, began moving about, ‘I feel too exposed, too vulnerable’, she stated, ‘I have holes of exposure that I can’t control and they’re beginning to significantly wear me down.’ At that moment, she looked entirely dejected, very unlike herself. ‘People and my safe zones are disappearing. I need to rely on JUST me more. My money just won’t service my obligations any longer. Taxes are due, bills are mounting, I’ve taken on perhaps more than I can handle and the cost of everything feels as though it is cascading out of control. I need to get smarter, more independent, self sufficient, faster. I’ve lost my healthy perspective BB’.

She then sat down next to me and looked me dead in the eyes, as though I were a mirror, her face so drawn and terribly, relentlessly sad. She looked older. I did not know her.

She said calmly, ‘I’m at the end of my rope’.

As her friend I just sat with her, unsure what to do myself except breathe.

As we listened to the huge silence between us, my thoughts of how to help gone, my encouraging bits of wisdom vanished like a mist and I too then, felt at the end of mine.

BB Webb

The Road Not Taken… October 22, 2009

Tonight….I Am Considering the Road, for me, Not Yet Taken…

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

…Robert Frost

The Children Storm October 20, 2009

A little over 10 years ago I found myself in the new role of wife and step mom. Both proved to be challenging roles for me though I certainly gave it my ALL. The lessons learned were worth their weight in marbles, heavy, gold gilded marbles. I am grateful for ALL my life experiences. I’m especially grateful to be where I am now…traveling forward to who knows exactly what….though it will be forever beautifully seasoned by the tastes, pleasures, bumps and colorful roads traveled in my past.

And for one season, I experienced a beautiful ‘Children Storm’.

The Children Storm

As a new step-mom and first time wife, I’ve grown accustomed to the anticipation filled calm before the “children storm.” My eyes dart out the window for signs of Sam’s Bronco turning into the drive whose entrance is 800 feet away, headlights a harbinger to the chaos I’m not sure I can embrace. I almost hear circus music as I see his lights. Visions of toys, games, papers, being thrown from bookshelves, as if from some poltergeist, fill my mind, food jettisoning from the fridge, peanut better oozing at abnormal speed down cupboards with a life of its own, fingerprints a Rand McNally of childlike enthusiasm, tantrums and abandon.

My need to control tightens. My stomach freezes and my face belongs in the wax museum. Immobile, I wait. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The dogs sign the next warning, my scouts, signaling my impending danger. They begin to howl knowing as I do that our peaceful haven will soon be transformed. They begin running in circles on the porch, nip at each other with the eager anticipation of their playmates.

“Rumble, rumble, rumble,” on the stone drive, “creak” of Sam’s old Bronco doors, aching from the force of being opened one more time and all at once, a cacophony of birds chattering, magpies arguing, the sound of symbols as the doors crash closed and Sam hollering, “Leo, shut the door.” Leo, in his customary 3’4”, four-year-old retort, “It was Jason.” Bonnie escapes the Bronco first, her curly red hair a pogo stick of color. She bounces out the car door leaving bookbag, pencils and papers flying like crows scared by an oncoming tractor.

Jason tumbles out the side closest to our house and passes Bonnie with a swift dodge to the left, then the right, making her teeter off balance. The unforgettable whine sings our like a lighthouse beacon, “Jaaasssooooon mooovvve. Daddddy!!!!” Her book bag, puffy with key chains and stuffed toys bounces on her shoulder as she leans left to regain her balance. Jason clips past her to the left, around our newly planted dogwood, his same height; it competition bends and springs back, a lucky survivor. Gazelle-like, he moves up the 3 porch stairs with one jump, into the front door with hinges flung wide as though they might spin like the revolving kind at Macys, through our walls and back again another turn.

Bonnie is a moment behind, her 10-year-old body somersaulting through the front door just behind her. She high-jumps a chair to the kitchen pulling down chips, cookies, tops are opened, contents spilling. Jason with dark hair tossed to the side, flips on the TV with Olympic speed while simultaneously landing in the blue chair, sneakers flung to one side. A “BOOM!” of high pitched vibrations, background crashing, the sound hitting each wall of our home like a WW2 bomber with an ability to penetrate through accuracy and speed, deadening all senses.

Leo trails behind and is curtailed as he falls over his forever dragging shoelace, “BAM,” onto the gravel with an instantaneous bellow heard round the world. “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” The deer in our forest take cover; the birds levitate in unison. “I’m bleeeeeding. I’m dyyying.” Sam unfettered by this ritual pulls Leo up by the arm to inspect the damage. No blood in sight just a feather of skin torn.

Willing to forget his near death fall, Leo shouts with eyes bulging, forehead crimson for Jason to give him his chair, which he claimed yesterday was HIS! Sam loosens his hold as Leo wiggles to freedom and scurries through the front door, a ferret out to kill. With Mighty Mouse speed, he pounces through the door to the now settled Jason who has both hands full of Oreo’s, the creamy white filling already being scraped from the dark cookie. With the swift twitch of his elbow, a practiced move, Jason flicks Leo to the floor with no more effort than he would swat an annoying fly. Skillfully he does so without disturbing one scrap of the cookie.

A louder, “Waaaaaa, Daaaddddyy, make Jason give me the chair, it’s not fair. It’s miiiiiiiiine!!!” Sam already headed out to the Bronco to collect the strewn pieces of wreckage shouts back as he ambles without turning his head, “Leo, stop arguing. Jason, let him sit with you.” He is as calm as a monk in meditation.

My head spins. I grasp the door frame to keep my balance. My home is invaded; my sense of self lost in the din, the movement, this merry-go-round set at warp speed. Who are these people? Even the dust is scattering to take cover. The dogs are in from the back porch now adding to the mix of circus, rodeo, amusement park backdrop. The pictures on the wall hang askew or is it my brain jumbled in the wake? The instant transforming of my peaceful space. An atom bomb would be more gracious.

Peering the wreckage from the safety of our bedroom, I make a fast getaway to our bathroom so as not to be discovered. Into this 4 by 10-foot windowless tomb, my sanctuary, I breathe, I pray, not sure what for, but I pray. My heart is pumping overtime and my temples are pounding, hot to the touch. I feel like a deer found out by an overzealous first of the season hunter.

I hear Sam entering the house quickly calming the havoc, organizing the mayhem and my stomach, not yet accustomed to this ritual, loosens a small notch till Leo bursts through the bathroom door like a clown at a surprise party. “Hi BB.” I fall against the back wall and hear a “clunk.” Is it my head or has my heart stopped? Having already forgotten his recent tumble on the gravel and his adamant need for the blue chair, he smiles and with all the pride of a newly pinned commander reports, “I have to drop a few friends off at the pool.”

My eyebrows move high on my forehead. I can’t move. I make a play at normalcy, attempt to slip on my loving adult face and demeanor, while the child that is me silently screams, shakes, bellows, “SPACE; I WANT MY SPACE!!!!!!” Leo in his meltingly sweet and infectious manner bursts, “Will you help me wipe?” My breath sinks like an elevator to the lowest floor as I sigh audibly, breath again as he waits for my response. His little fine red haired head is upturned and at an angle.

There is no choice here. I feel the mother in me emerge as a grin begins to cover my face. The heat has left my temples and has fallen to my chest. My heart is a hot ember. “Of course Leo, of course my baby,…call me when you’re done.” As I begin to turn I can feel the air reentering my lungs. I start to leave, then turn as Leo heads to sit on the john. “I’m so proud of you honey.” His little pants down to his ankles, a grin from ear to ear, our eyes lock and I wonder, how on earth did I get here, helping raise another woman’s children?

Blessings to the people who’ve traveled with me thus far (and most especially the three children who let me into their hearts…along with their mother, who to this day remains my beloved ‘wife-in-law’)…. AND anticipatory ‘cheers’ to the brave and fearless ones who’ll join me moving forward.

BB Webb

Farhrklempt October 19, 2009

Ever hear yourself talking or writing and a word from SOMEWHERE comes out of your mouth or on the page and you wonder ‘where did THAT come from?’ or you wonder, ‘when did I learn that word?’ but dang if it isn’t ‘right on’. Suddenly a lexicon of mystery words make themselves known.

Today was an odd day for me…a sort of discomfort lined my brow and a feeling as though I was walking in someone else’s shoes…the kind of day when your clothes just didn’t sit right on your frame and you forget simple words like, ‘tiger’ or your best friend’s name, or ‘Twitter’ comes out ‘Tweeter’ and you call your ‘hard drive’ your ‘drive shaft’. Awww, you know….it happens. (I’m hoping you know).

Or worse, you attempt to tell a story, which I do often while attempting to illustrate a point, (no doubt), and none of the details come out and the result is a most unentertaining blotch of a few facts that fall like pitiful little ashes to the ground. You find yourself looking down just wondering what happened to the colorful vision in your noggin.

The sort of day when you listen to a certain song and find yourself entirely choked up as you bustle past intent commuters on the highway. Then suddenly, a momentary euphoria hits and you feel entirely schizophrenic. And you’re SURE everybody can see right through you. (Clearly ‘everyone’ could care less…we’re really so less important than we think we are….well, I’ll speak for myself here).

Oy vey! (I’m channeling Jewish tonight)??

And then tonight in summarizing some things that occurred during my day to my business coach, (trying to be succinct which I NEVER am, I’d clearly give him a heart attack if I were), (FYI….he’s the one who suggested a blog….less space taken in his ‘in box’…..or so he thought)!!! Smart man!

I found myself writing the word ‘farklempt!’ Spelled also ‘Verklempt’. It’s various definitions below….

The Urban Dictionary states:
1. farklempt
Yiddish meaning choked up or not feeling good was often used in Saturday night life by Mike Myers is “Coffee Talk” (See hysterical video below)!
verklempt-swoon -farklempt -choked up -gobsmacked -ferklempt
2. verklempt
Verklempt – choked with emotion (German verklemmt = emotionally inhibited in a convulsive way)
This is not FAKE Yiddish – unless you are one of the linguists who consider Yiddish a “fake”, i.e. non-transformational language.
OY, vey. When that schmuck of a doctor told me I had cancer I got all verklempt.
chocked up -speechless with emotion -in agnst -deeply wounded note: sometimes spelled fehrklempt

Farklempt – choked up; speechless; unable to express one’s feelings/emotions

The sort of day when try as you might, your thoughts just aren’t cascading out of your mouth in the fashion you imagine and synergy is a beat off, your timing a bit lagged and your mental capacity diminished.

And in tribute to those Ferhklempt moments or entire days…..the brilliant Mike Myers, Madonna and Rosanne. (3 minutes is all you’ll need)!

Just sharing. Another few moments in time….

BB Webb

Jeannette Rankin, a woman among men, among women… October 17, 2009

I recently served as Mistress of Ceremonies for the Jeannette Rankin Foundation annual dinner, held in Athens, GA. I’ve known of this organization for a number of years and had the opportunity to interview its Executive Director, Sue Lawrence on my former tv show several years back. The Jeannette Rankin Foundation, based out of Athens, is an organization whose sole (or I might say, ‘soul’) mission is to expand the possibilities for deserving women in need of scholarship funds to further their education.

Having heard the individual testimonies of several scholarship recipients, I am moved by the difference it makes when someone is celebrated by a champion, (in this case, the Jeannette Rankin Foundation) and given the opportunity to explore their capabilities to move into their individual talents to genuinely and with great confidence, excel. (I know)!

About Jeannette Rankin:

Jeannette Rankin

1880–1973, American pacifist, b. Missoula, Mont. She was active in social work and campaigned for woman suffrage. A Republican, she was the first woman in the United States to serve (1917–19) in Congress and also was (1941–43) a member of the 77th Congress. She voted against the declaration of war on Germany in 1917 and in 1941 cast the only vote in the House against entering the war. A member of various antiwar organizations, she led (1968) the Jeannette Rankin Brigade, a peace group, to Washington to protest the Vietnam War.

I met yesterday with the foundation’s visionary Executive Director, Sue Lawrence and Board President, Juniper Burrows, who donates countless hours to the organization. Most of the financial support for the foundation currently comes from the Athens community. It is my personal mission to build national awareness of what this fine organization does and to champion their cause as my personal efforts expand beyond my immediate Atlanta based circle.

We intend to have a fundraiser to gather monies at my very own Carl House venue to enable more women throughout the country to receive scholarships. Currently, hundreds upon hundreds of women have been given scholarships to further their educations. Upon viewing a map at their offices, I saw these hundreds of scholarship recipients marked by individual pins throughout the entire United States. Many women have come from abusive situations, poverty and environments where the possibility to better themselves seemed nil at best.

From their website: www.rankinfoundation.org

‘By awarding scholarships to low-income women 35 and older, JRF provides opportunities for women nationwide to secure careers and break the cycle of poverty. Each scholarship recipient has a vision of how education will benefit herself, her family and her community. While the women come from diverse backgrounds, they are all united and motivated by their goal to succeed through education.‘

Consider a visit to this site and if you have the desire to help, a donation, however small or large, of money or time, will be deeply appreciated.

Me, first place hat winner in the 2008 High Hat Tea!

The Jeaneatte Rankin High Hat tea is among my favorite of their various fundraising events. I was in fact, the 2008 High Hat Tea first place winner for my ‘Garden Hat’, complete with spider, (as seen in orange on the right of my hat…name: Dagwood), weighing in at more pounds than my frame could rightly carry. (An award in which I am MOST proud)! They have a wonderful silent auction at this tea and some great people in attendance.

Stay tuned for our fundraising shindig slated for sometime in July at Carl House. It will be a winner, I promise!

So, thank you Sue Lawrence and your team. You heard it here, it’s time to go national!

And thank you Jeannette Rankin for your vision, courage and leadership. A woman among men, among women, indeed!

“You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.” — Jeannette Rankin.

BB Webb