Fear of public speaking

I remember being in 3rd grade and standing in front of the class and reciting a poem and enjoying it.  Then somewhere in there SHAME got a hold of me-- and it became excruciating leading to stomach aches, anxiety and insomnia whenever I had to speak in front of a large group.  A few years ago I was asked to introduce a conference at Oakland Children's Hospital about a topic I had suggested:  How children are affected by having incarcerated parents.   After having my usual painful experience, I decided I had had enough of being controlled by that anxiety, and I decided to go to Toastmasters--something I had heard of and thought about, but was too afraid to do.  

I can tell you it was one of the best things I have done and wish I had done it decades ago.  Very simply put, you get a lot of practice building skills and getting comfortable, in a wonderfully supportive environment.  It is also a lot of fun, and speaking becomes enjoyable.  It's like anything else, it gets easier with repetition, or as I call it, getting in the saddle a lot.  You also learn good leadership skills.  The bonus is that it's an interesting and fun group of people--very diverse in the case of my club--and people who speak well about their lives and many other themes.  

People whom come to Toastmasters are people who want to be effective.  If you want to be active in a school board, neighborhood organization, PTA, peace group, professional organization, check out Toastmasters.  It worked for me:  I was recently able to give a medical talk to 60 people, had a great time doing it, and it was well received because of what I have learned about presenting.

We're human beings--we all like to talk--even more, we all have something to contribute.  We need everyone's contribution.  Check out Toastmasters--you can find a club near you on the internet.   Come be a guest at my meeting.

"I don’t hold my babies after they’re four months old."

      I never cease to be amazed at the words I hear in the examining room.  As I recall, I walked into the room and the baby, wrapped in her blanket, was by herself up on the exam table, while her mother was sitting quietly in a chair.  I thought maybe she was tired and asked her if that was the case, but she said no.  She didn’t strike me as not wanting the baby, as I sometimes feel, and she didn’t seem depressed.  Rather, she gave the impression of someone who didn’t expect much from life.  I don’t remember exactly what led to what, but after a while she said to me, “I don’t hold my babies after they are four months old.”   A very stark and unsettling thing to hear.

     It wasn’t hard to figure that she had suffered a difficult childhood, like many of the parents I see from Mexico.   She was a child that her parents could not afford to feed and clothe, and so she had been shipped off to some relative, then another, and another.   Eventually she came as a teen to the US to seek a better life.  I empathized with her, talked to her some about the connection between her own life and how she felt about babies, and that more holding was good for them.  Whether I was able to connect her to therapy or even talk to a social worker I don’t know, but I won’t ever forget her words.  I hope that that moment of someone listening to her pain made a little difference.

Race in America: We anti-racists need to be more visible

     Race in America:  it could make you hopeless.  It started last week with the sentencing in the trial of the BART policeman who murdered Oscar Grant.  Johannes Mehserle, white man,  kills a black man: 2 years in jail.  Michael Vick, black man, accessory to dogs being killed: 4 years.  Mark McGwire abuses steroids: no years, Marion Jones, 4 years.   Etc.
     It all started again tonight when I Googled the first two lines of a rap song I heard, "No more health care/no more dreams"  and the name "The Panther," all that I heard while listening in my car last week.  There were a lot of right wing, anti-Obama, anti-black sites.  These sites took up a lot of space for anyone searching on themes of race.  
     On the positive side was a site about a new curriculum on the history of  racism in Oregon, in their public schools, and another called whiteantiracistparent, and on her blog a number of anti-racist blogs she follows.
It got me to thinking that we who oppose racism need to be as visible as we can, to have more blogs than the racists, that we need to speak out about it to white people and not leave it for people of color.  That we need to the visible ones and not the Tea Party bigots.

Bowls of Light

The great Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet wrote the line "I'm pouring bowls of light over my head" in a poem entitled "The Last Bus."   He wrote it in celebration of life even as he was facing death.   Hikmet was a Turkish revolutionary who spent much of his life in prison or exile, and many of his poems are bittersweet, asserting hope and love in the face of imprisonment and living in foreign lands.   "The Cucumber" is about a fresh, green cucumber resting on a table in frigid mid-winter in Moscow--a simple symbol of summertime and optimism.  I turn to Hikmet's poems when I feel disheartened, to draw on his courage and indefatigable hope--not the least his belief in humankind.   There are some excellent collections of his poems in libraries, if not in print.   You won't regret reading them.