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Maria and Apollo

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Asks the women in a bright purple shirt with shoulder blond hair and brown doe eyes.

I’m seated at the Whole Foods dining area reading my book, enjoying my coffee and small salad while taking in an invigorating, sunny spring day.

Earlier she was in front of me at the grocery check-out line. Her legs appear to bother her and after paying the cashier, she shuffles off to the side when she glances toward me: “Go ahead.” she calls out while fumbling with her purse. The women seems to struggle not only physically but also mentally; distracted and distraught at the same time.

“Yes, of course.” I gesture for her to take a seat as I move my purse to give her some space.

The woman sits on the corner of the weathered picnic table and heaves a sigh of relief. A nearby raven crows and a gentle breeze caresses my skin as the two of us eat in silence.

She stares out into the parking lot when she blurts out:

“I just put down my dog.” She says as her voice cracks.

She goes on: “Man, it’s been really hard.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I reply, knowing how difficult it is to lose a family member. 

“It’s only been a week, but for some reason these past few days have been the hardest.” She says staring off in the distance.

“I completely understand. I’ve been there.” I offer.

Apollo

She went on to share with me about her four legged family member named Apollo: a handsome golden retriever who was thirteen years of age and was gallant, loving and brave to the very end.

“I still feel him around me. I mean, I go on the same walks that we use to go on together and I know this may seem strange, but I feel his presence around me.” She said. I nod in agreement. “Perhaps he is.” I replied.

I go on: “We are all made up of energy and Einstein took this concept even further with the discovery that energy cannot be created nor destroyed, it can only change from one form to another.” I say.

“So perhaps Apollo is not gone per se, but has merely changed his form.” She considers this and grins. “Yes, I believe this.”

“Are you in the health profession? I ask because you have a really beautiful energy about you.” She says.

“I’m a Reiki Master and a writer.” I reply.

“Oh that makes perfect sense. You have such a peaceful, calming way about you.” she says.

Maria

Maria is her name and she works in the healthcare industry assisting the elderly. She’s also a singer and songwriter; singing on demos, as a backup singer for various artists and performing at local coffeehouses.

She bursts into laughter when she tells me more stories about her stoic Apollo; how she would sing to him and he would serenade back to her in his baritone howls. She shares how Apollo helped her to enjoy each moment, and how he reminded her to be more present each day and to appreciate everything; the shade of a grand tree, the soft grass under her feet, the warmth of the sun on her skin and his companionship.

We talked for nearly an hour where Maria reveals that doesn’t have any family nearby and that Apollo was her family. She thanks me for taking the time to speak with her.

“You know Stacy, I really appreciate you. You’ve helped me a great deal and I feel so much better.” She says.

“It’s been lovely chatting with you, Maria. If you ever want to get a cup of coffee or chat, feel free to give me a ring.” I said.

I hand her my card and a broad grin envelopes her face. “Thank you, Stacy. I’ll do that.” She says. I squeeze her hand when she rises and is on her way with a lightness in her being that was previously absent.

Vulnerability and Connection

We all need support and this need can show up in various ways; whether it’s sharing a painful experience or certain life challenges troubling us.

It’s easy to get caught up in our “other worlds” such as the ones on social media and even in our daily lives; however, even if these aspects are a part of our current reality, what is truly real is our vulnerability.

Our vulnerability is authentic, it’s what connects us as human beings. It takes great courage to show our real self; warts and all, whether it’s in our grieving, our struggles or our shadow side that we may abhor and want to push it away.

Yet, in facing our fears and being vulnerable, we free ourselves from the burden of the belief we are alone in our struggle.

Diving deeper

Once we reveal our vulnerability, we can find comfort in others who support and lift us up, who can empathise and offer us compassion, kindness and encouragement.

I think about Maria and Apollo and I’m touched by how brave she was in sharing her grief and struggles with a complete stranger. In Maria’s sharing, we were both transformed and better for it. In our connection and vulnerability not only does it bring relief, but it also brings us together and empowers us.

Both Maria and Apollo’s names are also significant: Maria is the latin form of Mary, the blessed Mother in Christianity. Some of the qualities associated with her are faith, perseverance, compassion and unconditional love.

Apollo was the sun god of ancient Greece; a powerful deity who was also the god of music, light, medicine and healing. I find it interesting that Maria and the spirit of Apollo came to me just before the Easter holiday. They were both gentle reminders to me of the power within us all.

During this holiday weekend, let us remember and come together in our humanity. Let us have the courage to reach out to others even if it’s a simple “hello” or to pay a compliment to a stranger.

May kindness and empathy lead the way to a deeper connection for a better understanding of each other and our oneness. The world is calling for it, it’s in need of us to be vulnerable, authentic and real.

With a deeper connection to ourselves and each other an inner peace fills us; creating a luminosity within and as a result, we transform. Thus a rebirth begins and as a result, we rise and awaken to the divine within us all.



Peace and richest blessings,

Napag Stacy

,

Field of Honor

“What?”  I ask in horror.

“I’m telling you this is what happened.” My husband says emphatically.

Chief Suale teaching a traditional African drumming workshop.

A while ago, Chief taught an African drumming class to some colleagues of mine; he loves sharing his culture with anyone who is willing to learn. He’s a natural, gifted teacher and on that day we communed together over stories, food, drumming and laughter.

Afterwards, Chief and I pack the drums in our car and strolled over to the Promenade in downtown Santa Monica. The 3rd Street Promenade is a popular, open-air street mall with shops, restaurants and live entertainment. I suggested Chief explore the area while I finished up work in the next couple of hours.

I met up with my husband around 4:30pm where he shares this news with me. 

3rd Street Promenade

Chief dancing and wearing the traditional Dagomba smock.

“I was sitting outside one of the stores on the Promenade, when a security guard came out, and stared at me. He just kept looking at me suspiciously like I had done something wrong.”

I’m still grabbling with what he’s saying.

 “What store was this security guard at? Why was he doing this?” I demand.

“I don’t know.” He replies. “He just kept staring at me, so I took off my hat, so he could see me and that I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

I can’t wrap my head around this so I ask Chief some more questions to gain clarity.

“Wait, let me get this straight. You were sitting in a public space, minding your own business when this security guard came out of the store, saw you, and stares at you in a disapproving way?”

“Yes.” He replies.

“I was never in the store he was working at. Chief replies. He just stares at me as if I had taken something or planning to steal something.”

“That’s horrible!”

The 3rd Street Promenade.

I’m shouting now and a few people at a nearby bus stop glance over at us.

Chief goes on:

“Then, he went back into the store and came back out with another security guard. Now both are staring at me; sizing me up.” 

My mouth’s agape and my face goes flush while my body shakes. I’m seething, and my first thought is to march over to this store wearing a pair of steel toed Doc Martin boots, find that security guard and kick him hard in the nuts. 

Not the most enlightened reaction I admit, but it did cross my mind.  

AND YET…

This is my hudband; someone I love deeply who is being harassed and judged by the color of his skin and quite possibly by what he is wearing – a traditional Ghanaian Dagomba smock and hat.

Travel Ban

My husband and I waited nearly 4 years to be together on one continent — to physically be together for longer than three to four weeks time and even then, we were unsure if his visa would be approved because:

  1. He is from Africa.
  2. He is a practicing Muslim. 

The White House has put forth a travel ban that specifically targets certain African nations that are predominantly Muslim. Ghana was not included in this ban; however, with this current, erratic administration; who knows when that could change and turn our lives (and many others) completely upside down? This travel ban and the fact that hate crimes have grown over the past year here in the United States is deeply unsettling.

Back in Santa Monica, I turned my anger into a pep talk.

“Don’t let this person’s fear ruin your day and what just took place here at the drumming workshop. Because that is what this security guard and his sidekick were exhibiting: fear.”

“I’m not.” He says to me reassuringly.

There is still some anguish in his eyes and it sears my heart.

Chief continues.

“I didn’t want any trouble, but I also wanted them to know that if they had anything to say to me they should say it to my face, so I got up, looked both of them in the eye, and walked between them. I didn’t say anything, but I looked both of them in face to let them know if they have something to say, they should say it to me right now.”

“I’m really glad you did that.” I said. 

My husband is the sweetest, kindness, most good-natured person I know. He’s taught me so much about love and compassion and I’m certainly a better person for knowing him. That’s why this is so incredibly hurtful and hard to comprehend.  

A Realization

I realize what happened to my husband is a very small drop in the bucket in our country when it comes to racism, but it’s still racism nonetheless and since my husband is from Ghana and has rarely experienced this type of discrimination, it’s an ugly reception to his first time being in America and his new home. 

Even when we first got married, there were some friends who voiced their “concerns” about Chief and our marriage. I couldn’t believe my friends were emboldened to have conversations with me not even realizing or taking into consideration how hurtful they were being.

They masked their veil of concern as an act of “love” when let’s be real – it was racism seeping through in the most subtle ways. I truly wonder if they would’ve been as concerned for me if I had met a white male who lived in Denmark and worked in pharmaceuticals or even something less conventional, like working in the circus. No, my guess is they most likely wouldn’t be.   

A Retreat in Santa Cruz

Recently, I went on a writing retreat where a well-known author shared a story that went something along the lines of this.

A happily married couple who had been together for many years were suddenly faced with a terrible diagnosis: the wife had cancer and the chances of her surviving were slim.  

She asks her husband: “What will you do if I die?” 

After a moment, he replies:

I want to become a monk. My heart is in transcendental meditation and I feel called that this is my true purpose.”

She nods and says: “Whether I survive this cancer or not, I want you to promise me you will follow this calling.”

With the help of her husband, the wife survived the cancer. Soon after, they divorced, and he went to pursue his calling and she followed hers.

An Epic Love Story or a Horrible Outcome?

One could view this as a horrible ending or one could view it as an epic love story — where the wife knows in her heart that her husband’s passion needs to be fulfilled and instead of being tethered to their marriage, she sets him free to follow his calling.

I thought deeply about this story while I was at this retreat as the event on the Promenade involving my husband was still festering in my mind.

That evening I rang my husband.

“Hi babe, how’s it going?” I said.

“I’m fine sweetheart. How are you? It’s good it hear your voice.”  He replies.

Tears are now streaming down my cheek and even though I don’t want to say what I’m about to say – I have to.

My voice cracks:

“Sweetheart, I cannot get out of my mind what that man did to you on the Promenade in Santa Monica. Again, I’m sorry that happened and you should never feel uncomfortable sitting in a public place and being who you are.” 

I pause and gather my bearings.

“My dear, I want you to know that if you aren’t happy here or if you don’t feel comfortable and you want to go back to Ghana, I will understand.”

I take a deep breath and continue.

“You have given up so much to be here; your family, your friends and I know at times it’s been difficult. So if you feel that this isn’t working and you don’t feel comfortable or safe being here, I’ll understand if you want to leave and go back to Ghana. We will find another way.”

Silence fills the airwaves and it seems like years. I try to hold back the tears but they steadily flow while I wait for a response. Chief and I have talked about spending time in both countries; however, was I naive in thinking it would work?

Or is it simply not an option as I once thought. I can move seamlessly from my world to his and back again, but it may not be as easy for him due to America’s history with his country. I don’t want him to go, but this is purely for my own selfish reasons. I love him and I want him to be happy; his happiness is what matters now.

Finally my husband speaks.

“Sweetheart, I really appreciate you saying this to me. But I don’t want you to worry any more about that security guard so please put him out of your mind, because I’ve already have.”

He goes on.

“What’s important is our love for each other and I’m so happy we now get to be together and we can spend the rest of our lives together. So please my dear, let’s focus on our love because this is what’s important. I love you pam pam with all my heart.”

Pam pam means “very” in Chief’s native language. I love you pam pam means: I love you very much.

I’m sobbing on the other end of the phone. This man, who happens to be a Chief in his country; who takes care of many people and is the most loving, kind, generous and compassionate man is willing to put up with the hideousness of racism in our country because he LOVES me.

I want to wave a magic wand or nod my pony tail, genie head and erase racism from this earth. And while I’m at it, let’s throw in sexism, ageism, homophobia and bigotry in this vanishing act as well.

But alas, that isn’t going to happen in an instant… HOWEVER, I can do my part.

I can be that one drop in the bucket and continually add my drop until it becomes a powerful and enduring ocean.

Field of Honor

Field of Honor is a term I learned from the well known author at that retreat and I loved it so much I decided to incorporate it into my work. Field of Honor is standing up for something that you believe with your heart and soul; a declaration and the willingness to take positive action to honor it. 

  • I am standing up for Kindness. Often times we are quick to judge or criticize. When someone lashes out in anger, more often than not that person is hurting and in pain. Kindness is the tool of Compassion. Be kind. And if it’s not possible to be kind (i.e. if the relationship is abusive) than wish that person well and be on your way. Kindness also applies to yourself.
  • I am standing up for Unity. Unity at its core is connection and common purpose. From the depths of my Soul I believe we are all connected. If we realized that we’re all in this together, I believe we’d work harder to find common ground versus letting fear take over and divisiveness becoming a prevalent factor in our country at this time.

  • I stand for Equality. We as human beings all deserve kindness, happiness, dignity and respect. No one is less than or better than. We all have the same emotions, we all have dreams, we all long to be happy. Most of all, we deserve equal rights and equal opportunities.

I recently became a member of the ACLU; a civil rights organization who is one of the leading voices of fairness, justice and equality. The organization continuously works to defend and preserve the people’s rights and liberties as well as empowers communities throughout the United States.

Through conscious dialogue and positive action it is my hope I can achieve these Fields of Honor; both in my every day interactions as well as incorporating my Fields of Honor into my long term goals.

What is your Field of Honor?

Let’s begin creating a more thoughtful dialogue and look deeper into ourselves; to not only see but also make a concerted effort to do better now. Now is the time. 

Because as the great Maya Angelou said:

Now that I know better, I do better.

 This is not to shame anyone— far from it. It’s a rally cry for us; the collective whole to continually develop more thoughtful dialogue, actions and awareness towards each other.

Let love, compassion and understanding be the force that drives us versus fear, anger and hate. Because for me, this is the only path and I’m committed to it; the path of leading with an open and courageous heart filled with love, understanding and compassion.

I have decided to stick with Love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.  — Martin Luther King Jr.  

Love. Let’s find our way back to love. Or as my husband says: 

Tiyumtaba – which means: Let Us Love One Another.

Because in the end, this is what we are all made of — Love. Magical, wondrous, expansive LOVE.

Peace, love and blessings,

Napag Stacy