Guest Blogger, Kamal Fizazi: A Letter to Friend About Hope and Survival

New York, NY
1 April 2012

Habibi,

I found out today that a friend killed himself a few days ago.

His death makes me sad and makes me think how sad I would be if I lost you and felt I had not done as much as I possibly could to help you.

I love you and I hope you are ok.

Over the years, especially recently, you have spoken to me about your severe anxiety, depression, PTSD and other issues, and about wanting—at times—to kill yourself.

I have tried to be a good friend, to listen and, when you asked for it, give you names of therapists and other resources that could help you address these issues.

We haven’t spoken in a few weeks, so maybe you are feeling great these days and I am worried for nothing. If this is the case, I am very happy for you.

After losing my friend Tony, I can’t be silent. I have to ask: Have you followed up and sought help for the issues bringing you such pain?

If not, I beg you, call one of those therapists whose names I shared with you a few weeks back (after your request to me), or to seek help in other ways.

Even if you are feeling good these days—especially if you are feeling good—now is the time to do something about all this, while it is easier to take steps that connect you to support that will help you survive the times when you are not feeling so happy.

If you are feeling down these days, I still urge you to seek help. I know how hard it can be to seek help when we are down, you know I know this, but I still hope you will try. It could save your life. Just as importantly, it could help turn it around.

I keep learning and still have to keep reminding myself that nothing in life is permanent. Not joy and not pain. LIFE is not permanent! But it does not have to be painful. We may have to do some hard work to make things better, but things can get better.

As you know, I use Surat al-Asr as my mantra in times of loss, pain, confusion, and fear. This Qur’anic prayer tells me: Time itself is a witness, all humanity experiences loss and pain, except for those who have faith, do good works (or are of service), and live as an example of honesty and as an example of patience (and forbearance).

I’ve shared this with you before, and this painful reminder is impetus to share it with you again.

My friend Tony is dead, and I am still here.

I do not know why, but I do know this has been one of the resources that got me through those terrifyingly bleak times when I considered doing what Tony did.

How does this simple yet powerful prayer work for me? As any mantra, repeating it means I change the tape in my head from whatever terrible tape to this pre-recorded, familiar, repetition. In that way it functions like any prayer or ritual in which we can seek refuge.

But this prayer is pragmatic in other ways too.

It comforts me by reminding me that my pain and suffering is not something I alone endure—“The Ages witness: all humanity experiences suffering”—and it gives me practical steps I can take, solutions to my pain, loss, and confusion:

Faith (Imaan)
The prayer directs me to have faith. To me this means making a choice to believe things can get better, even that a specific someone or Something loves us. Sometimes I have had to simply trust that this was true even when I doubted it deeply or didn’t feel it. But then, that is why it is called "faith." :) Sometimes it has been faith in, belief in, someone other than myself, someone who told me things do get better. At those moments, again, I did not believe it was true, but I could believe my friend believed it, and, ”borrow” her faith. At times it has meant a faith in a Divinity, Most Merciful and Most Compassionate, Greater than any trouble I might face, an Everlasting (internal) Resource any one of us can tap into, in times of loss or not.


Service (Saalihaat)
The prayer suggests that I do good works, that I be of service. I take this to mean reach out and help a friend or volunteer in an effort to improve my community. Doing something good for others gets my focus off my problems. When I do this, I shift the focus from the running commentary and obsessive concern with my own problems to the world outside my head. This liberates me from the not-so-merry-go-round of nasty thoughts *in* my head (that nasty committee that never has anything nice to say to me about me). There is always someone can use our help, so why not shift the focus from our complaints to gratitude and to service? Let us improve the world we find ourselves in! It sorely needs it. And we end up feeling better about ourselves because we are doing something positive in the world, rather than feeling stuck in, or focused on, our pain, fear, and confusion.

Honesty (Al-Haq)
The prayer suggests that I live as an example of honesty and truth. What this means to me is that I am supposed to walk through my fears and be rigorously honest with myself and others about my fears and the reality (or falseness) of them. Living as an example of honesty means letting go of my fantasies or the narratives I spin about how things are. When I am truly honest, I can see what I can change and what really needs to change. I also see what is not in my power and how, if I have no power over it, it makes no sense to spend time worrying about it. You know what I mean: If I have a role to play or choices that could be different, I can do that, if I can’t, well, then I can’t. Talk about freedom! Living a life of honesty and truth also means unburdening myself with someone I trust about what I have done or am doing, or what I am feeling, all of which helps me not live in shame, secrecy, or fear. This frees me from carrying the burden of my troubles all by myself. Living honestly and in truth also means removing that awkward, painful, conflict and stress that arises when I say one thing (to be polite or because I am avoiding a confrontation), but I really mean or want to say another. This type of honesty also can be daunting, but it too sets me free.


Patience (Sabr)
Lastly, the prayer says I am to try to live as an example of patience and forbearance (while facing all my troubles). This to me means, “Don't give up.” Ever. It is a reminder that things get better. Things change. The hard work we can do (therapy or whatever path we choose) takes time. We didn't get into our mess and messed up way of thinking overnight. We won't get out of them overnight. We have to give time time. I know the despair can be all-encompassing, I have felt it. But I also have learned—as I am sure you have too—that I am strong in patience. No matter what troubles that befall me, even when despair feels like a reality convincing me to my bones, something that I feel as if I KNOW will always be my reality, I can be patient. I can wait the pain out. It too will pass.

Trust me. Things do get better, if we do our work and we are willing to wait.

Things have gotten better for me, and I promise they can get better for you too.

Love, Light, & Peace,
Kamal

P.S. I would add one more thing to all my fabulous (& unsolicited) advice above (): Music. I know you love music. And that’s great, because music moves us, changes our mood, reminds us things get better (and have been better). Here are some of my favorites that have so far worked to get me through some pretty tough times:
“I Look to You” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYFfmFeFGZg&feature=related as sung by Whitney Houston (RIP) or the GLEE version with Amber Riley, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQgO5TtBF6g
A soft strumming song I just recently discovered, by City and Colour, “O’ Sister” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gi-crVagUok&feature=youtu.be
“It’s a Beautiful Day [don’t let it get away]” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co6WMzDOh1o by U2
“Feeling Good” by Michael Bublé, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI&ob=av2e, or the Nina Simone version, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHs98TEYecM
“I Am Changing” by Jennifer Hudson, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYuFvu2gdFU

P.P.S. What are your favorite songs to get you through tough times?

Bio: Kamal Fizazi is a writer, activist, lawyer, policy wonk, strategic planning and program consultant, and all-around good guy who spends his time thinking about and working on issues of human rights and equality, diversity and inclusion, democracy and social justice, equity, gender, sexuality, public health, HIV/AIDS, addiction, mental health, recovery, faith-based anti-oppression efforts and interfaith organizing, and Lord only knows what else.

You can follow Kamal on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kamalfizazi or on twitter: @kamalfizazi. You can also read his blogs on http://izazif.wordpress.com and http://wholooksinsideawakens.blogspot.com.


Additional notes and links:

Suicide claims 36,500 lives yearly in the USA; close to one million attempt it each year.

Suicide Prevention & Support:
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/Default.aspx
http://www.thetrevorproject.org/
http://veteranscrisisline.net/
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
http://www.samaritansnyc.org/
http://www.afsp.org/

Solidarity & Fundraising:
http://www.outofthedarkness.org/

Faith

One of the greatest blessings of my life is that I have never doubted the existence of God. Though I have lacked faith in the moment, my belief in a power greater than myself, yet intimately connected to myself, has never foundered. Lord knows I have been angry at God, and each and every time the anger was misdirected, I have always had the steadfast certainty that there is a God, who goes by names and many faces, but a Creator that is love and was there in the beginning and will be there in the end.

Most recently, I have started a faith journey in the Nichiren Buddhist tradition. For those of you that are unfamiliar with Nichiren Buddhism, it is a Buddhist path championed by Nichiren Daishonen, a 14th century Japanese monk that espoused the teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha (Siddartha Guatama) and taught that the Lotus Sutra, the last Sutra developed by the Buddha and taught by him in his last three years of life, was the highest form of Buddhist thought and was the most direct path towards enlightenment.

In fact, unlike other schools of Buddhism, Nichiren Buddhism teaches that one can reach Nirvana and the end of the cycle of birth, death, rebirth and suffering in a single lifetime through study, faith, and practice, which is embodied in chanting nam-myoho-renge-kyo, the translation of which is "I dedicate myself to the mystical law of cause and effect as expressed through sound." Basically, what you do comes back to you.

Now, in attending local meetings in Harlem and gongyo at the Cultural Center, I have met amazing people, and I have met zealots. Zealots from any faith path are a huge turn off to me no matter how noble the faith or how pure the intentions. Zealotry only exists in the context of dogma, and, officially, Nichiren Buddhism is non-dogmatic. Meaning, it is a faith without a moral code of conduct, as the code is embodied in the choices made by each individual, and, jointly, an individuals salvation is also a personal responsibility--there is no magic prayer that can be said to a deity that will result in absolution and evolution, your forward movement is your responsibility.

Many of the people I have met in SGI, the lay organization of Nichiren Buddhism, are former Christians that either were turned away from the faith through the hateful or hurtful acts of its adherents or failed to find meaning in Christian worship for themselves. Officially, Nichiren Buddhism is atheist in practice but accepting of those that believe in a higher power. By atheist, I do not mean that Nichiren Buddhism denies the existence of God but it believes that whether or not there is a God a person may find Nirvana through their own works and faith and practice. Indeed, Nichiren Buddhism is based on the teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha who did, indeed, believe in gods.

Officially, in its writings, SGI welcomes people of duel faith. Unfortunately, I have encountered one too many people that have been disdainful or discounting of my choice to continue a faith in God. I personally believe that the teachings of Christ and the teachings of both the Buddha and Nichiren Daishonen are in accord. The Christ and The Buddha both taught personal responsibility. Both taught that you are responsible for your own salvation and your own actions. It is only the Church, created as a temporal agency with an eye towards power and control, that created an external path of salvation that is dependent on the Church.

SGI members know first hand how an institution can corrupt a faith, which is why in 1991 SGI was excommunicated by the Nichiren Buddhist priesthood for refusing to bow to an institution that claimed hegemony over a faith's teachings. It is saddening that some individual members of SGI practice a personal dogma that attempts to undermine the faith choices of other practitioners walking the same path.

Thankfully for every overzealous individual I have met in SGI, I have met 10 others that are perfectly willing to allow me to understand God and my spiritual practice, including the incorporation of Nichiren Buddishm, in my own way.

I believe in God, and I believe in the power of nam-myoho-renge-kyo. I do not see them as mutually exclusive, and I do not see any conflict in my Christian upbringing which has been critically examined and critically deconstructed through my own faith practice and the new faith practice I have found in SGI Nichrien Buddhism.

Zealots of any kind are welcome to keep their puritanism to themselves. There are no gatekeepers in Nichiren Buddhism and those that I have found that have espoused a dogma and cultishness that has no place in Nichiren Buddhism need to reflect on their faith instead of trying to manipulate that of others. I am a Christian Buddhist, and I plan to continue that faith journey without permission from anyone.

God bless us everyone, and may the teachings of Nichiren Daishonin and Shakyamuni Buddha guide our steps.

A New Black Literary and Cultural Renaissance

This poem is one that I discovered just today. It is by the late, great poet Paul Laurence Dunbar. This poem is important for its humor, its structure, its linguistic heritage, and how it illustrates how free black and slave black used the Christian Church as a source of inspiration, but more truly, a source of organizing. When folks today wonder why the black church is so important, still, to the black community it is because it was the one place where we could gather, free of a watchful eye, where we could sing and shout our pain and anger, celebrate our small joys, and also connect through music and dance with our African heritage, which had been systemically stripped from us (for example, U.S. black slaves were the only black slaves in the Western Hemisphere to be denied the use of traditional drums...this...of course...was impetus for other musical expression and seeded the roots of country, blues, soul, hip hop, rock and roll, and jazz).

The poem also demonstrates how and why the Preacher held the role he (and she) did in slave communities. Since slaveholders proclaimed themselves to be God fearing and Christian, it was in their best interest, and supported their standing in the community, to have their slaves educated in Christian theology. As such, Black preachers enjoyed a freedom of mobility denied to common free blacks and slaves. Yet, this freedom did not come without a price. As Dunbar points out in his poem "but fu' feah some one mistakes me/I will pause right hyeah to say/Dat I'm still a-preachin' ancient/I ain't talkin' 'bout today," and when he states pithily, "Now don't run an' tell yo' mastahs/Dat I's preachin' discontent." That is to say...a preacher could and did slip in messages of freedom and liberation but those things were dangerous and could result in more strange fruit swaying in the breeze. Though, even with the fear of lynching riding high on the backs of ministers, they still travelled the pre-war South and preached messages of freedom and liberation.

This poem, though written post-Emancipation, shows also the freedom with which late 19th and early 20th century black writers wrote. Folks like Dunbar and Zora Neal Hurston were masters of the English language yet would, without apology, write in Southern black vernacular English, not as a characterization of ignorance (as was done by well meaning folks like Harriet Beecher Stowe), but as a illumination of how Southern black vernacular English (slave English) was far from ignorant and could and did transmit complicated ideas and dangerous messages in an era where a slip of the tongue or a cut of the eye could end with a black person swinging from a tree.

This is in stark juxtaposition to the debates around Ebonics in the 1990s and the characterization of Black Standard English as an expression of ignorance that needed to be stamped out with "proper" education. Indeed, all Americans should be proficient in textbook English: reading and writing. But just as a native Spanish speaker should not be discouraged from writing and expressing him or herself in Spanish even though he or she should be American born, neither should black folks distance themselves from a rich literary and linguistic tradition because the white power structure in America has characterized and still characterizes it as lacking in intellctual richness simply because it is a divergent dialect from Webster's English. That tends to happen when you snatch up entire populations of people with their own syntax and grammatical structures inherent to families of languages, force them into bondage, and then attempt to mold their languages into the boundaries of ones own.

Language was meant to grow, change, diversify, and birth new linguistic (and literary) traditions. Once upon a time, French, Spanish, and Italian were considered bastardized local offshoots of Latin. Hell, the Catholic Church didn't allow vulgar Masses until after Vatican II. Imagine...speaking to the people in a language that they understand.

In the end, this poem demonstrates the power of language and culture. Almost a hundred years after its composition, it still resonates deeply in theme, subject, content, and humor with the issues facing black communities and black culture today. Though slavery ended some 144 years ago, and black folks in the U.S. have progressed far beyond the days where preaching the wrong word could end with a short drop, the overwhelming economic, pyschic, and spiritual burdens of 300 years of slavery and a 100 years of state sponsored segregation and terrorism against black folks in United States still hangs as a heavy lodestone around the weight of the collective black psyche. Finding the strength and beauty developed and cultivated during bondage, shucking the husk of white supremacy folded around those modalities, and serving up a new black literary Renaissance that builds on our literary and linguistic traditions and opens them wide to embrace new art forms (spoken word and hip hop to name a couple), and new black communities (black Latin@s and African immigrants) could be the foundation for the next stage in the evalution of the black community in the United States.

An Ante-Bellum Sermon
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs,
In di howlin' wildaness,
Fu' to speak some words o comfo't
to each othah in distress.
An' we choose fu' ouah subjic'
Dis—-we'll 'splain it by an' by;
"An' de Lawd said, "Moses, Moses,"
An' de man said, Hyeah am I.'"

Now ole Pher'oh, down in Egypt
Was de wuss man evah bo'n,
An' he had de Hebrew chillun
Down dah wukin' in his co'n;
'Twell de Lawd got tiahed o' his foolin',
an' sez he: "I'll let him know'
Look hyeah, Moses, go tell Pher'oh
Fu' to let dem chillun go."

"An' ef he refuse do it,
I will make him rue de houah,
fu' I'll empty down on Egypt
All de vials of my powah."
Yes, he did—-an' Pher'oh's ahmy
Wasn't wurth a ha'f a dime;
Fu' de Lawd will he'p his chillum,
You kin trust him evah time.

An' you' enemies may 'sail you
In de back an' in de front;
But de Lawd is all aroun' you,
Fu' to ba' de battle's brunt.
Dey kin fo'ge yo'chains an' shackles
F'om de mountains to de sea;
But de Lawd will sen' some Moses
Fu' to set his chilun free.

An' de lan' shall hyeah his thundah,
Lak a blas' f'om Gab'el's ho'n,
Fu' de Lawd of hosts is mighty
When he girds his ahmor on.
But fu' feah some one mistakes me,
I will pause right hyeah to say,
Dat I'm still a-preachin' ancient,
I ain't talkin' bout to-day.

But I tell you, fellah christuns,
Things'll happen mighty strange;
Now, de Lawd done dis fu' Isrul,
An' his ways don't nevah change,
An' de love he showed to Isrul
Wasn't all on Isrul spent;
Now don't run an' tell yo' mastahs
Dat I's preachin' discontent.

'Cause I isn't; I'se a-judgin'
Bible people by dier ac's;
I'se a-givin' you de Scriptuah,
I'se a-handin' you de fac's.
Cose ole Pher'or b'lieved in slav'ry,
But de Lawd he let him see,
Dat de people he put bref in,
Evah mothah's son was free.

An' dah's othahs thinks lak Pher'or,
But dey calls de Scriptuah liar,
Fu' de Bible says "a servant
Is worthy of his hire,"
An' you cain't git roun' nor thoo dat,
An' you cain't git ovah it,
Fu' whatevah place you git in,
Dis hyeah Bible too'll fit.

So you see de Lawd's intention,
Evah sence de worl' began,
Was dat His almight freedom
Should belong to evah man,
But I think it would be bettah,
Ef I'd pause agin to say,
Dat I'm talkin' 'bout ouah freedom
In a Bibleistic way.

But de Moses is a-comin',
An' he's comin', suah and fas'
We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin',
We kin hyeah his trumpit blas'.
But I want to wa'n you people,
Don't you git too brigity;
An' don't you git to braggin'
"Bout dese things, you wait an' see.

But when Moses wif his powah
Comes an' sets us chillun free,
We will praise de gracious Mastah
Dat has gin us liberty;
An' we'll shout ouah halleluyahs,
On dat mighty reck'nin' day,
When we'se reco'nised ez citiz'
Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!

L'Chaim!

About three years ago, I was living in Albuquerque and getting ready to make the transition back to Minneapolis. I had been an active board member of the Headwaters Foundation for Justice—a kick ass organization that funds cutting edge community organizing work in Minnesota and Wisconsin—before I left for New Mexico. So, in preparation for my return to Minnesota, I started kicking up my activity level with Headwaters again and flew home in March 2006 to participate in a strategic planning retreat.

On the night before the last day of the retreat, I had a dream. In my dream I was conversing with a rabbi in Hebrew. I was fairly certain that what I was speaking was in fact really Hebrew. Which is odd considering I know approximately two words in Hebrew that are not actually the names of High Holy Days or other Jewish festivals. Too much beyond shalom and l’chaim and you might as well be speaking Old Norse (which, incidentally, you can learn and earn a PhD in at the University of Minnesota…the only university in the nation to award a doctorate in that area).

The next morning, I was at the retreat, and the facilitators decided to close the day by asking folks to talk about something interesting that had happened the previous evening. So, when it got to me, I shared the story about my dream.

We closed out the circle and the meeting officially ended. No sooner had the last thank you been said than the four or five Jews in the room made a direct beeline for me. One woman, who I completely adore (Barb Weiner), told me a story about her Father, who, as he was in the hospital dying, spoke to his family in Hebrew…a language he had never learned. Another woman told a similar story…and they all agreed that I must have Jewish ancestry (which I do) and that I was probably making a connection with a former life or an ancestor.

At the time I had also been considering a conversion to Judaism. Judaic philosophy, specifically tikkun olam—or the directive to all Jews to heal the world of its wounds and ills—is something that resonates deeply with me. My Jewish Mother, mentor, and friend Beth Zemsky approached me that day and asked me if I was still considering conversion. For the last three years, I have been in perfect balance between my love of Jesus and his teachings and the understanding that of all the world’s religions…Judaism is the one that resonates most closely with my personal life philosophy.

So I have been going to Buddhist chanting (gongyo)…that seemed like a happy middle ground. I can keep Jesus and still incorporate a more social justice focused philosophy of being as evinced by Nichiren Buddhism.

Of course just as I get comfortable with where I am at with my faith...I have another damn dream.

This time, I found myself at a Shabbat celebration. The cantor was singing in Hebrew and the congregants were reciting the Shema. Again, I am absolutely convinced that, in my dream, the Shema that was being recited was, in fact, the Shema. The difference in this dream was that I was a Jew who didn’t understand Hebrew and could not recite the Shema.

Talk about being rejected.

The other Jews around me in my dream were smiling encouragingly. When I finally couldn’t take it and bolted for the temple door, folks eagerly encouraged me to come back. Everyone I met on the street was wearing a yarmulke…the men’s were black and the women’s where white (I have no idea the significance of this other than I believe in my dream I thought that the women wearing white yarmulkes were married—which is consistent with conservative Catholic women that wear white veils in church if they are married and black if they are widowed).

I believe in signs, portents, spirits and that God speaks directly to each person all the time. But, if he is trying to tell me something…I wish he would send me a note or something. Maybe a letter or a post card…but sending me dreams in Hebrew is just plain crazy making.

In the end, I am not sure how to take the dream or what the spirits and my subconscious are trying to tell me. Perhaps it was another past life flashback or maybe it was a foretelling of what is to come. If only there were a way to reconcile my love of Jesus, my love of Judaism, and my new found respect for Nichiren Buddhism without resorting to creating a new faith or becoming B’hai. I am denominationally schizophrenic enough—having grown up Lutheran, Baptist, and Catholic—adding an entire other faith path to the mix outside of the Judeo-Christian tradition is more than I can take. What a shtunk!

(P.S. I grew up with that picture of black Jesus on the wall of our house alongside the traditional picture of white Jesus. I used to feel badly because I thought black Jesus was hot...I would totally do him!)

Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo

This evening, I entered a brightly lit, ornate redstone building covered in scaffolding on East 15th on the border of the Village and Chelsea. I met my best friend, RJ, there--after a hasty cab ride as I thought I was going to be late--to attend evening chant. RJ had recently started attending prayer services at this Buddhist Society, and I, a Christian pan-theist, gladly joined him.

It was nothing like I expected.

To begin with, the chanting had started early. We entered a room filled with a Bennetton spread of nationalities literally humming with the Nichiren Buddhist chant Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo (for those that love them some Tina Turner and have seen What's Love Got to Do With It a half million times as I have will recognize this as the chant she was taught). The chanting and the room were alive with energy. The sound jumped directly into my chest, and before my butt hit the seat I was chanting along with the crowd.

As I looked around, I noticed young and old, Asian, Latino, Jewish, Black, and White filling the room (thanks to Tina Turner the largest groups were black folks and a pan-Asian hodgepodge--and true to form most of the black folks arrived late as hell including the Afro-Latin@s). The service was simple, except the five minutes of the liturgy which sounded like a Buddhist monk on meth, and largely consisted (except for that five minutes) of chanting Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo which means I commit myself to the cosmic law of cause and effect and to the ultimate universal truth expressed through sound. Damn that little old Japanese/Sanskrit phrase packs a lot of punch.

I fell into the easy rythym of the chant. About half way through, RJ looked up and said, "call me." Which is a code word for HOT MAN. I paused in my chanting to appreciate the Latin thick 'em that was moving out to take a call. Yes, the Buddha is good. Hey glory.

About 15 minutes into the service, I found myself chanting and rocking back and forth to the vibration of the sound. And then I experienced a strange and awesome sensation. I felt as if a cool fire was emanating from my skin...like...if they had killed the lights...my little brown ass would have been all a glow. It was a cool feeling. And then the little Japanese women next to me, who arrived late I might add, started chanting out of rythym and threw off my feng shui...and I lost my glowing feeling. But for a minute I felt like Bruce Leroy...whose the master? I am!

I have always believed in God. It's been both a blessing and a curse. He and I have not always gotten along, but I've always believed in him. This was an entirely different way of experiencing him. And one that I will be repeating. I am no hero for opening myself to the experience, but I am proud that I was enable to enhance my faith journey...even if it was a little bit Barry Gordy style.