Book of Sandra

Chapter 2

I was always fascinated by the story of Jonah and the whale. The story seemed to suggest that we can't run away from our dreams. You remember the story; God told Jonah to go to this city to perform a particular task. Well Jonah wasn't going and decided to head in another direction, we all do that. Well he got swallowed up by the whale, stayed in the belly of the whale three days before he was spit out on the shore of the city he was suppose to go to in the first place. Now some of you will be upset that I didn't give all the details and metaphysical meaning behind them but those are much less important than the overall theme right here so let's not get stuck.

We don't often do the thing that we feel in our hearts we're motivated to do. Now certainly some believe that God's voice was audible back in biblical days, it was not. God spoke then the same as now, through our dreams, desires, other people, feelings, and a host of other intuitive modalities. Sorry, the sky really didn't open up and there was no rolling thunderous voice saying; "go my child to Brooklyn." God speaks by giving us overwhelming desires or great joy when we hit upon something we are called to do. That's why sex can't be all wrong, but that's another post.

I keep talking about freewill; I'll cover it in more depth at another time. God gave us freewill and will not violate it. Through freewill our right to make choices for our own lives is sacrosanct. Sure we get clues or gentle reminders about what we purposed to do, but the ultimate choice on what we actually do is our own. Now here's the question: upon what do you base your decisions on what you do?

The Choice

When I was much younger I went to church but was unable to totally dedicate myself to God. In my understanding a relationship with God was about denial and deprivation. I thought when I get older and have had all my fun then I'll do it. The preacher would talk about hell and damnation and say that I could die before the day is over so I'd better make a choice today. Unfortunately, we have learned to make a lot of decisions through fear. We live in a culture of fear, but I was willing to chance it.

I share that because many of us don't do the very thing that we most desire to do, the thing that we are called to do because of fear. We work jobs because we have to pay our bills. Rather than working on paying off our bills so we can follow our dream we make more bills. I asked a friend "do you own your house or does your house own you?" She was so much happier living in her apartment with much less to worry about. She was trying to live the American dream and forgot about her own dream. So she has taken one job after another that she hated trying to keep up with the bills from someone else's dream.

Purpose

Money isn't a dream, what it can buy perhaps but what benefit does that have for the world? If you look throughout nature it seems that everything has a purpose. Bees, flies, trees even snow has a purpose. We were each born with a purpose; something that only we can do. When you're not doing your part, playing your role, you're cheating the rest of us. No whale is going to come along and swallow you up but you might get laid off. You might get in a car accident, heaven forbid, that lays you flat on your back so you have time to think about what really matters. To remind you of what you're here to do.

I'm not exempt from the necessity to live out my purpose I'm typing this so I can read it. I get no greater joy than when I'm talking to a group of people sharing ideas. Using my voice, opening my mouth and saying what spirit lays on my heart gives me joy like nothing else. Getting paid to talk is an added bonus. I can see and feel a healing occurring as I speak.

I kept running away because of all that I thought I had to give up without realizing all that I had to gain. No I'm not a goody two shoes, I didn't have to be especially not as others define it. I'm not rolling in money either but I am experiencing a joy like I never felt before. What I do have to do is work on my motives, why am I doing this? What's the motivation? Am I operating out of love or fear? Try following your dream, you may like it. It may not seem smart or prosperous or even safe. Living out of your fear, that's slow torture. Do you get headaches or back aches? Are you sick all the time feeling like your body is breaking down? I'm writing about that now in my book. Allow yourself to be used for a greater purpose, it'll expand you.

The Book of Sandra

Chapter 1.

I was in Italy doing a study abroad program when I first decided to read the bible from cover to cover. I was miserable there for the first few months. During the 9 hour flight across the ocean I remember thinking that when I arrived in this new place no one would know me so I can be anyone I wanted to be. I thought of all the ways that I would clean up my act. I was going to be a "good" girl whatever that meant. I wouldn't be so sexual, everybody perceived me that way. I'd be sophisticated, worldly and philosophically deep like I'd longed to be, but nobody accepted me as. I was going to recreate me.

For the first few months I was miserable, I felt like an outcast. I was living in a villa with other students that I had little in common with and didn't want to find any commonality. They were far from sophisticated. So I moved out and in with an Italian law student Francesco who didn't speak a word of English. We'd met one day while I was walking down the street with one of the two American women I'd befriended while I was there. They were both older that I and I enjoyed their company.

I had taken quite a few books but their predictable story line sickened me after a while. I sat in bars or cafés after classes socializing and talking politics with other students from all over the world. But late in the evening when I went in for the evening there was nothing to do and many weekends I stayed close to the village where I lived. So I took on the project of reading the bible.

I'd been raised Southern Baptist. Really I don't know why I say "southern" I'm Black and it was a Baptist church. The distinction I want to make is that our church rocked every Sunday. My friends would jokingly say that the whole building pulsated with the choir singing to the top of their lungs. People would stand up clapping, doing the holy dance and getting the spirit. The older ladies would shout, as we called it, spirit would over take them and they'd lose their minds for about 10 minutes or so. Arms waving. Body convulsing. Wigs flying. I'd seen grown men jump off a 6 foot rise and run full speed down the aisle. The only way anyone ever got hurt was in trying to restrain those that had been overcome by spirit. This was a normal Sunday.

The minister started off each sermon reading a passage from the bible and then would expound upon the story. The normal course would be for us to feel conviction, as if he had somehow known our thoughts. Next was the guilt trip about how bad it was that we had ever thought those thoughts. We couldn't hide the all knowing, ever present God knew what was in our hearts and it wasn't good or acceptable so repent now. Lastly was the hope that we could put away our evil ways if we just surrender our will to God and live our lives as directed by Him through His word. Or more simply; be born again through the blood of Jesus. Same storyline every week only the scripture would change.

Now I had no problem with this, this was what I heard from the time I was a baby sitting on my parents lap in church. I had been baptized and born again. I'd always been told what to think and even when I got to college I wore my religion like armor, I would not be changed. They warned me, especially since I'd chosen Philosophy as a major that my beliefs would be attacked. I was a warrior in the army of God.

Fast forward to me being a student in a foreign land who now wanted to further her transformation into the 'good' girl by reading the bible. That was a good thing right? My bible was a rich blue leather bible that had a gold zipper that zipped all the way around. My named had been monogrammed on the front in gold letters my father had given it to me one Christmas. It was the King James Version and the teaching s of Jesus was set apart in read letters. Over the years I'd highlighted, underlined, bookmarked, dog eared and pressed flowers into those pages. Now finally I was going to actually read them all. In the middle column of each page was a reference section to point to other passages and some of the words were italicized to show that there was a discrepancy in direct translation.

In Italy you can't just walk into a bookstore and expect to find English books, not where I was. I decided that if I prayed for meaning it would be revealed, that was what I was taught. So I set out to accomplish the task at hand on my own.

I read "Let us create man in our own image." I was stumped. Who the hell was He talking to? Then the rhetorical question if a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears does it make a sound. Why was God talking if nobody was there to listen? I'd been bamboozled! This was a report, I thought, not the word of God unless whoever He was talking to wrote this stuff. If that was the case there wasn't just one God. I did continue to read but what I came away with was much different than the theology I'd been taught. It was surmised from much prayer and meditation.

I don't report this to claim that I know the truth, it is my truth and not expounded upon here to convince you of anything. These are my writing to share my ideas. If they resonate with you great, if they don't great I'm just sharing because that is what every person in the bible did, shared their insight on God. Call this the book of Sandra. Thanks for reading.

Complaints

This was in my box as a draft, its been there for months. I'm not editing it read at your own risk, you've been warned. . .

I use to be a complainer. I remember evaluating a person’s feeling toward me by how engaged they became in my distress. Sharing my issue-of-the-day formed a pseudo intimate bond with others in my mind. It gave us common ground and validated my distress and me so it felt good. I perfected my "poor me routine" because people, men in particular, seemed issue oriented and needed to be engaged.

It worked like a charm for a while, that is until I grew up and wanted to stop playing that role. Unfortunately, the price paid for abdicating one’s own power by enlisting the opinions and help of others is high. Personal power like a muscle needs exercise to strengthen and grow. The ability to think for self, to make decisions, to trust those decisions and deal with the consequences builds your power and confidence. Refusing to stand on your own two feet results in muscular atrophy in one or both of the feet.

Personal autonomy is not something that we are taught, on the contrary women are often taught to play dumb around our men so we don’t intimidate them. That’s one of the reasons why men think women change after marriage, because they no longer need to pretend. That’s not to say that men aren't strong or smart enough to know the game, but once the ego is engaged it’s hard to see past the charade. Nor is it to say that all women are being deceptive, that’s not completely true either. Two heads are still better than one when both heads come completely to the table.

Begin here . . . .

I love to live my life out loud. While doing talk radio I grew accustomed to sharing my thoughts with my audience basically unedited. Of course, I had to keep on point to keep from swinging from one thought to another or name names like I do in my journals but overall I lived my life publicly. I miss that.

I have this button that I bought while I was in college that said “everyone has the right to my opinion.” I happen to like my opinions, most of us like our own. It is unfortunate however when we can no longer distinguish between our own opinions and that that we’ve heard someone else voice, which is more often than not the case.

My online appearances have been scarce lately. One of the books I listened to on CD advised keeping track of where I was spending the bulk of my time, and for two weeks I did. I needed to see if how I allocated my time was congruent with my goals. I found I was spending way too much aimless time online. I needed to manage my life & time better.

So what do I value? I have a value on sharing my thoughts but I spent way too much time jumping from site to site, reading, editing and ultimately deciding what context to share those ideas in or not. So what I decided to do me. No editing, no second-guessing, no jumping from site to site hiding behind cleaver screen names. Sandra Bishop raw and uncensored will just threw my thoughts at the wall and see what sticks, or not.

Hmm Let's see. . .

I totally amaze myself at times. I am able to listen to others and put my finger on their pulse and diagnose a problem. However, when it is my own problem I can see it but feel unable to do what is necessary to set it back on the right track.

What is that about when you lapse back into old patterns? I know that I can make lasting changes I've done it in the past. But here's my theory. I think that often we try to do things are against our nature, because it seems like a good thing to do. Let's use working out as an example. I can make a list of all the reasons that it is beneficial, I can make a plan stick to that plan for a while but eventually snap back occurs. Back to the same old routine.

Many times we do what we think we ought to do rather than what we want to do. Laziness or complacency sets in and snap back. The guilt trips & self admonishment do little good in setting us back on track. However when you begin to do the things you want to do because you want to do them it seems as though it is smooth sailing all the way.

So here is my dilemma, no is not exercising. I love to write yet I don't on here where I want it to show up consistently. Now if you asked why if I love to write don't I write consistently? I might give you the first answer that presents to my mind. That I'm not writing from my honest space. That's the danger of doing writing or anything else for an audience, it inhibits you. I have to write for me not you. There I said it if I'm writing for you I'm trying to be conscious of what you want to hear or what you expect. How will you interpret what I'm saying?

I'm A Tree

We were in Seattle for a family reunion and I wanted to go to the famous market to see the salmon toss. My father said to his sister “Sandy doesn’t eat fresh salmon.” I was totally taken aback. I know it’s weird a memory to have but it had me thinking about exposure.



My father made an assumption about my culinary exposure. As a child I lived in a controlled enviroment. Our house, our yard had a fence around it, there was no internet or cable television back then. Up until a certain point in my life my father could say without equivocation what I had and had not been exposed to.



As we mature the things we are exposed increases. I live in Cleveland, Ohio which is part of the United States of America by accident of birth. Being an American holds no significant degree of pride for me. I love it because it is the home that I know. The same can be said for anyone’s home in any country in this world – we are all born where we are born by accident of birth and grow to love that place as home regardless of the culture until we choose differently.




I have traveled to different countries and have learned to appreciate them for how they are different. No thoughts of superiority or inferiority just different. I’ve walked on Egyptian sand it feels the same between my toes as Mexican sand and the United State's sand too. Air is air, sunshine is sunshine all over the world. There are some places I’ve been that if I could just stretch a little bit more I could grab a star, they seem closer. I’ve eaten live mussels in Italy, and swam nude in the Mediterranean Sea with friends I didn’t share a common language with. What we understood was laughter, good food and fun. We found commonality in spite of our geographical origins.



Today we are exposed more than ever to people that don't look, talk or think like us. It seems as if the world is shrinking as avenues of communicating expands. Basically we find that we are still just people, trying to live out what they’ve been told is the truth. We all want desperately to be right. To live in the right/best place, to have the right or chosen religion, to go to the right schools, to marry the right person and do the right thing.



From that gated yard to world citizen I know that my options are limitless. In college I was exposed to the idea of having “universal maxims,” ideas that I apply universally not what is politically expedient, popular or what I can get away with. My ideas or values remain consistent and are deeply rooted and remain unchanged. The basics:

• Everyone is good but they might not make good choices all the time.


• Everything is sacred and deserves respect.


• We’re all God’s children, even when we don’t know it or believe it.

We are each challenged to decide who we are and what we believe and live that consistently. As a nation we decided on a President and many have abdicated the philosophically grappling to him. Others have disengaged as I had during the Bush years unable to reconcile my values with our nation’s practices.

Under this new administration the question of torture arose and President Obama rightly stated that “that is not who we are as a nation,” it does not speak to the values upon which we were founded. Its an age old question: does the end justify the means? If the end is: we get the information, does it matter how we go about getting it? I say yes. If the end is: we get to feed hungry people, does it matter if the food was stolen from others to make it happen? Absolutely. A desirous ending is not justified by unjust means and therefore cannot be used as provocation. Ignoring either personal or collective values repeatedly is spiritually corrosive. America was choking from its own character crisis. We can not escape the consquences of our actions and inactions.

In A Course in Miracles the golden rule stated differently “as you see me you shall see yourself, as you treat me you shall treat yourself” . . .Never forget this because in me (your brother) you will find yourself or lose yourself. That so-called terrorist is your brother, who was doing what he thought was right based on the information he was given. That is not to condone anyone's actions I'm simply trying to point out human faces beyond our exposure.

What do you believe? Introspection:

• What are your core values or beliefs? (list top 5)


• What informs your choices? (religion, politics, books)


• What values do you apply universally and which arbitrarily?


• We are always teaching others who we are, what are you demonstrating?

I vow to be like a tree bowed maybe, but unbroken by the winds of change. If you ever find that the winds of your life start to blow and threaten to blow you off balance off center just reach out there are trees everywhere. Be one.

Living Out Loud

I got it yesterday, my first thank you card for Food for Thought. I use to get them all the time when I was on the radio. Tattered letters that looked like they'd been carried around in someone's purse a while. A woman showing up outside the station or at some speaking event. Then when I opened the center they'd just come there. I was always touched, but most especially by the ones that went out of thier way to say thank you.

Rue was my favorite. Another host had given a forum at the community college. It was well attended. I was there but not on the panel, it was political and heated at times. I held the mic for the audience participation part.

I saw her as she approached after the program, her face hard, her gaze direct. Truthfully I felt her contempt and wanted to shield myself behind the person I was talking to. Instead, I did what I have trained myself to do I thought "thank you God for divine order." I smiled and greeted her like an old friend, "Hiiii," (it was long and drawn out). She didn't smile back, that really troubled me. No one could resist my smile. That's what I was taught.

My mother was from the south and believed in grooming her children into the people she wanted us to become. She'd taught us to always smile, saying "you get more bees with honey than you do with vinegar." She'd be pleased when people gave us sodas or bags of chips free of charge, complimenting her what wonderful, well-mannered children she had. She and my father both were proud but as I write this it sounds more like a gypsy training without the intended deceit. "Smile and the whole world smiles with you," she'd say.

This woman at the forum didn't crack a smile she looked at me with a face of stone and asked "are you Sandra Bishop?" "Yes I am, do you listen to the show," trying to start a conversation. Her head shifted slight to the side and said "I recognized your voice." She was already walking away as I said "thanks for listening" to her back. No name, no hug, no hand shake - nothing.

When I first started doing the show it was about relationships and I called it Let's Relate in Love. I was trying to hook people up or at least talk about relationship issues. You could hear the pain coming out as anger when they called in. When I held events I would watch people come in the door and thought they looked like birds with broken wings still trying to fly. Here they are looking for someone to rescue them rather than for a partner. I changed my show. Real relationship work, I told them, was not about finding the right person, but rather being the right person. Heal thyself.

There were people I called the talk radio junkies. No matter what channel you turned to if didn't hear them calling its only because you just missed them or they couldn't get through. I imagined that some of them sat in their homes and switched from station to station just like we do our televisions. Michael was one of those talk show junkies, he listened to everyone even Howard Stern. He called me one evening and asked me on air "Sandra, why do you take callers? " Stunned, I was silent - that wasn't a question I was prepared for, it threw me. "Do you really think we tune in to listen to your callers?" I had to say something, there was dead air. I stammered a bit trying to explain that "this is talk radio, its for the community so they can have a voice." He paused then said dryly "we don't tune in to listen to your callers," and hung up. Now, that threw me for a loop.

I don't think people realize how feedback affects people. I've seen host that have gotten a rude caller that said their show sucked never show up again. Sometimes, we're bewildered by what the real meaning is behind their statements. Is this just today or every show? Was Rue angry at me? Was Michael saying I wasn't utilizing my callers correctly or that I needed to not talk to them anymore?

I had noticed was that the phone lines would start ringing even before I started my show. That happened for a lot of the shows. People would hold too, sometimes for 15-20 minutes waiting for you to answer. You say welcome to the show or something like that and they'd talk about stuff totally unrelated to what your show topic is about. I asked one guy are you even listening to the show? Our screeners only took names and told us what line they were on. Soon after Michael's call, I stopped taking callers and just talked. And I can talk.

Each week I prepared my show like a minister prepares a sermon. I'd gather info and do the research. I hated when people tried to wing it, its disrespectful. I have always felt it an honor to have people listen to me, they can easily flip the channel or get up and walk out. If you honor me with your attention I'm going to honor that by being prepared and having something worthy of your attention to talk about. And I was intimate with my audience - I define intimate as "in-to-me-see." That meant regardless of how they may judge me for what I said or thought I had to speak my truth, they deserve that.

I get choked up about stuff like that, because its not a game to me. Our minds our emotions are fertile ground and deserve the respect of one removing one's shoes. (feet ruled by Pisces symbolic of understanding) Moses took off his shoes - emotionally I do too. I know to whom I'm speaking and reverence is due. Anytime you have the ablity to influence how people think reverence is due.

I started going out speaking more. One Sunday I was doing an early service for someone. I got there just in time to walk into the sanctuary, it was early & I was verging on late. Seated in the hallway was a lady who looked to be in her early 50's a little homely looking. (you know I'm anything but) When she saw me rushing towards the entrance to the sanctuary she stood up. She was clutching a well worn purse tightly against her. She looked like a mother and wife who had always put everyones needs ahead of her own like most do, like mine did. She seemed uneasy yet determined.

Bobbie, who was guiding me in, said that she'd been there when she arrived. Said she needed to talk to me, but she couldn't stay. My bad I should have arrived early. As I smiled tears started rolling down this woman's face. She'd came to thank me she said for my show. I'm not sure how she took it but I heard myself say "No thank you, my show the issues I talk about are my issues, you just get to ease drop." That's what they mean by I'm blessed to be a blessing. I never thought I as doing anything important. I was just living out loud being used like a conduit through which blessings flowed and that others get a blessing too, well that was kind of nice too. So when I tell people I love speaking it because I do it for me, it grows me and blesses me. You can't get arrogant or think you're special when you get naked and bare your soul in front of other people. I describe the high I get is like a drug induced high, I'd imagine, and I can't wait for next fix.

I announced I was going to start giving weekly classes. I was studying the bible, A Course in Miracles, Joesph Campbell, Carl Jung, Louise Hay, Marianne Williamson and Carolyn Myss to just name a few. I meditated for at least an hour daily, studied and wrote.

I had talked the class up over the air but wasn't sure if anyone would come. I felt nervous. I'm not sure who was there probably just Maria & I. Maria has always been one of my most loyal supporters so I'm sure she was there. She and I were talking as we waited for people to show up. It was a small church. The outside double doors were made of heavy steel, once through those 10 feet ahead to the right was eight steps you had to come up that opened directly into the sanctuary. We'd set up the chairs in a semi-circle and there she and I sat. Waiting.

We heard the double doors open and bang shut. We had stopped talking and looked towards the steps. The air changed I felt a lightness it seemed pregnant to me, much like it does when its your turn to answer a prayer. Something big, someone big was approaching. I could see and feel the aura their energy, whoever this was was coming to give a blessing not get one.

I saw her, but not really. It took me about 30 seconds to realize who it was. It was the stone faced woman that approached me years before at the forum. She glowed and was smiling ear to ear as she embraced me, all three of us cried. Her name was Rue, Rue Love.

The station I was on changed their format in 2006 and ended my show. I thought I could go without living out loud, but it had me scattered. Serendipity: a guy I met at the radio station named TJ asked me at the last minute to be a guest on a cable show he was trying to get off the ground. I later ran into the program director offerred me a cable show too.

So fast forward to yesterday I got a card. In it the woman wrote "Thank you for letting the Holy Spirit lead you to give me "food for thought."" Thank God I'm living out loud again.