Beware the Pure Spirit, Let the Flesh Instruct the Mind

I like to eat. I like people who eat. Perhaps it’s all wrapped up in Southern Culture, sharing food with others. Eating with others seems to be the way to go, a way to facilitate being the social animals that we are. I found some King Cakes (at least Kroger’s version of these tasty cakes) and brought them to class this past Tuesday. I was looking forward to learning whoever would find the hidden baby Jesus in their slice; it’s supposed to be a good luck thing. Plastered on the carton they came in were warnings not to eat the plastic ornamentation (beads and baby Jesus) as they could cause choking and asphyxiation. Well, where’s the fun in that? Baby Jesus perched out for the entire world to see.  Well the cake was a hit, I was worried that I’d be taking some home, but I forgot how hungry college students are, and they got in line during our break and sliced those cakes up. And some were not shy in slicing large portions of this up…little piggies. I was happy that this w...

My blog entry to my class for the week: I felt as though there was a lot of synchronicity surrounding our class this past week. For example, in trying to come up with ways to approach the topic of stereotypes, I am acutely aware of the power of these labels, these words and images that are associated with this important topic.  While many in the class can easily brush these things aside, I do recognize that some cannot. Stereotyping hurts. I don’t say this theoretically, but as someone who has at different times in my life has had to endure hurtful assumptions made about me, my family, or with cultural groups that I identified with. Until I found my “voice”, I let it slide, but it was hurtful. During those times, I never sought to actively challenge what was being said, that is, challenge folks on their most wrong of assumptions. Whoever came up with the adage “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” lied to us. These cognitive shortcuts hurt, they wo...

Mental health. What a loaded word...so much implication, intent, and misunderstanding. Right now, I'd just settle for health care benefits that covered mental health services.

I'm slower than the rest of you. Everyone's already listed and discussed their New Year's resolutions. I hope that your dedication and resolve have not withered away. It is only day numbered three. Here's what I have been mulling over and have decided to address thus far. I may add to this listing if I am so inspired. So it goes like this: Complete my dissertation. At times it has felt like wrestling with the Kraken and other times the thoughts and words flow so easily. I'm close, really close to wrapping this up. I've been dissatisfied directionally at times. I am becoming more comfortable knowing that this is part of the process. Ebb and flow. My chair gave me a compliment in our last meeting, she said (in the context of our discussion about struggling with this) that I was approaching this from a creative perspective. I don't think she realized what a compliment that was. And she's correct, it would be easier to produce a product that is stamped ...

Johnny, I just finished viewing “How To Survive A Plague” the brand new documentary chronicling the work of ACT UP and TAG in the late 80’s and 90’s. I did not make it to the premiere showing in Asheville recently and this movie has been on my “watch” list ever since I learned of it. Watching this documentary  was an emotional rollercoaster. Brilliantly done and visceral. I cried multiple times and was angry just as many instances as well.  You came to mind so many times while I watched this; this was a painful reminder of how much I have missed you. It’s a stark marking of the passage of time, of good and bad memories, love and regret, and the possibilities that could have been had you survived and lived on. But of course that is not what happened. I mourned your loss for a very long time and the seeming unfairness of it all. One of the stars of the documentary remarked tearfully that “we all go off to war and some survive and others don’t. Those who come back often wo...

I teach for many reasons in the College of Public Health. It started out as a way to gain some experience and  to "test the waters", that is, to see if I wanted to use my degree to teach. It was originally tied to my graduate assistantship. It was my 20 hours or required work. Truth be told, I have never just put in 20 hours a week on any of the classes that I've taught. It's like a whole other job, and one that demands considerable time to make it work. I've had great teachers all of my life and I can only hope they know that they could tell that that "I got it." And usually it was because of their commitment and involvement in the subject material and also in the interest that they had for me as a student. You could always tell who wanted to teach and those who "just did their job." It's hard to be excited in learning about a topic when the instructor is operating on "auto pilot." My graduate assistantship ended some time ago, ...

My final entry to my class for the semester... I’m always reading. Whether for class or enjoyment, I bury myself in books. Maybe I don’t lead an interesting life. But I love big books and I cannot lie… Well anyways, I was reading through some HIV related material the other night when I found something that was in its own way related to our class, more specifically to our folks who presented on Santeria last week.  I’m fascinated by this belief system in how Africans who were sold into slavery brought their beliefs with them to the Americas and found a way to incorporate their beliefs alongside the beliefs of their masters / tormenters.  The symbolism changed but it was still very much their own and of their own making. It was something they could hold onto, something from their own heritage. Santeria lives on. I’ve seen some of their altars; specifically I have a good friend who at the time had a beautiful altar in his home.  Offerings of food and liquor, cigars and ca...