That Ol' Poverty Mind

In my recent post as I pondered the predicament of poverty, I mentioned some of the tips we use to survive when in tight times, the way we manage with very little and often do so with a wry sense of resiliency and acceptance. The post was meant to provide some insight into the daily life of people living on a meager fixed income, and to serve as a reminder that entitlements are NOT sucking the lifeblood out of the economy while providing Cadillacs and cable tv for lazy n'er-do-wells who have "no work ethic".
Today I want to look a bit deeper at that apparent lack of motivation that we do see in some people who are living on welfare or other programs. It is a firmly entrenched Poverty Mentality that keeps people stuck in a state of mind and a lifestyle that, to the outsider, looks lazy and unmotivated.
Unmotivated, yes. Lazy, no absolutely not. It takes a lot of energy to budget every penny on a daily basis, to always be on the lookout for any resource to help ensure daily survival, one day at a time.
But "why do people appear so unmotivated?" some might ask. The answer is pretty simple: an absence of Hope. Some people have never known Hope. Some have had it snatched away, broken, or unfulfilled. To break a person's hope is to break their heart and their spirit. One can only endure so much heartbreak before the scars grow thick, constricting and impenetrable.
I have been fortunate to come from a background that allowed hope to survive, maybe a bit battered and bruised, but strong enough to survive and remain resilient. My family was the kind of family that could live the American Dream. Not the delusional one where you build a megacorporation from scratch and live on a Yacht, but the real Dream where you work hard, still have time for family and community and make enough money to live a reasonably comfortable lifestyle.
My own battle with the poverty profile stems from a more personal foundation, a damaged sense of self worth and fear of success. I think the same is true for many of us who, somewhere along the line have fallen off the track and stumbled into territory that we were not well equipped to navigate. Who is prepared for an abusive partner, a drug problem, a immobilizing episode of depression or a sudden loss of career? The injuries we sustain while lost in the wilderness do not heal overnight. As we regain our self worth and our perspective on life and our relation to it (which of course is the first and most vital step) we are still operating in a kind of survival mode, hanging on to what we have with gratitude and relief. At some point, however, we are "fixed" well enough that we begin to look beyond ourselves and into the possibilities to make our place in the world. For most of us it soon becomes evident that in order to do so were going to need some financial stability.
This is where it gets tricky. First of all we're still most likely in need of constant self affirmation that it is indeed okay to be happy and to want more than to just survive. Next there's the actual issue of money. They say it takes money to make money, even if that means having the ability to buy clothes for a job interview or to pay for a class to update some skills. Even in the best of economic times that can be a significant challenge. Nowadays, well I'm sure I don't have to outline the obstacles that seem to be increasing on a daily basis.
It would be easy to use the present flailing economy to fall back into that entrenched hopelessness that is the Poverty Mind, the daughter of the Victim. I believe it vital at this point in time that we all remind ourselves that we don't have to live our lives entrenched in poverty. We deserve better, as individuals and as a society. Maybe this is where the personal gets political and vice verse. I don't claim to have all the answers, or even half the answers, but I do know that on a personal level I'm going to commit myself to throwing off that security blanket of inertia and at least preparing myself for something better. I owe it to myself.
Peace and well being,
Jen
© 2010-2011 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

Ziggy Part II

Life went on as it does, with Ziggy as my constant companion. several years ago I moved into a large lower flat and acquired a few more animal roommates. Ziggy who had always been strictly an indoor cat, became introduced the the Great Outdoors. As is often the case once someone gets a taste of the wild, they develop a craving for more adventure and freedom (I have several prior relationships to testify to this fact). After nearly five years in that apartment changes in circumstance made it necessary to move to a smaller, less expensive apartment. I was neck deep in the misery of Interferon/Ribavirin treatment and the entire moving process was extremely unpleasant, to put it nicely.
On the day of the move Ziggy was nowhere to be found. We weren't too worried, we figured we'd go back and look for him which we did, for a while. I became extremely ill and depressed after moving and much of that first month is lost to me. My kids made regular sojourns in search of Ziggy but with no luck. In my depressed and apathetic state, I finally resigned myself to the idea that this was just one more opportunity life was taking to kick me in the teeth and gave up all hope. Interferon does terrible things to one's mind, body and soul.
Then suddenly on Mother's Day, 6 months after moving and 3 months post treatment, I received a call from my former landlord saying he had seen "that big white cat sunning himself in the yard". The kids and I hopped into my daughters old grey Buick and started patrolling the alleys, creeping along looking like someone who was up to no good. Fortunately we were spared suspicion by the fact that the car is covered with stickers of hearts, flowers and Hello Kitty. Every blob of white caught my eye and while my daughter was chastising me for not wearing my glasses to go look for something, my son caught sight of Ziggy. He was, as we had often speculated, staked out at the "Cat Lady's" house at the end of the block. The Cat Lady herself, verified in her broken English that he had been living under her back porch all winter. I looked around the space and I could see she had provided him (and who knows how many other wandering cats) with food, blankets, toys and even a small water fountain. I thanked her profusely and she thanked me for coming back to find him. Total strangers until this moment we hugged each other and wished each other well. I promised to leave a large bag of cat food on her porch for getting Ziggy through the winter, which she politely declined and which I will provide anyway.
So here he is back home, fur matted and dirty, and in need of a good ear cleaning, but also fat and well fed..
I had pretty much resigned myself to the rational acceptance that he had passed on to the Happy Hunting Grounds, but here he is as I write, dozing atop of my crafts chest looking wise, somewhat crabby and full of secrets. My kind of guy.

© 2010-2011 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

Tuesday Tribute-The Incredible Adventures of Ziggy

Mama Niki and Ziggy

The Relationships that fulfill and inspire us are not limited to the Human species, therefore today's tribute is in honor of one of my four legged inspirations, Ziggy. Here is his story:
Ziggy was born into a humble life; his parents were a bi-racial couple, his father a Ragdoll and his mother an alley cat known on the streets as Babycat. Some say Dank (dad) had married beneath his station, but as we know true love has no use for socioeconomic status and breeding. Dank and Babycat lived with their caretakers Niki and Greg, who in their own particular way defied social standards of rank and bloodline. The two couples lived in a modest studio apartment on Milwaukee's lower East side, before the investors and real estate moguls infiltrated the area brining high end shops and luxury condos.
As is the natural course of events when families are denied access to affordable health care, Babycat soon became pregnant. Niki had called to inform me of the joyous event at the halfway house where I was spending the better part of the year learning how to be a good girl by following 12 simple steps.
Soon after receiving the good news that Babycat was "with child', another call came in to announce that the Blessed Event had arrived and resulted in one very large fuzzy white kitten. Despite the joyous celebration, Mama Niki harbored concerns that there must be more kittens and feared they were trapped within Babycats maternal nest. Wrapping the young mother and her one kitten in a blanket Niki braved the fearsome January winds and paid a visit to the family vet, where she was assured that Babycat was indeed "empty". This fact greatly relieved Mama Niki as well as instilling a sense of reverence and awe in the one singular kitten who arrived only a few days after the Millennium..
 Ziggy was graced with royal titles of  Honor including Golden Child, The Millennial Cat and Chosen One; in addition to the revered surnames "Stardust" and "Marley".
Being the only child Ziggy was given free access to all eight nipples and feasted himself daily on his all-you-can-eat Lacto-buffet...and grew to impressive proportions.
One year later, when I returned to my hometown, having completed my stint at the Home for Wayward and Wanton Women, Niki was kind enough to allow Ziggy to become my roomate. At age 41 I had never lived alone and I welcomed the company.
Ziggy and I have been through good times, challenges, happy times, roommates, foster pets and lonely nights of crying and howling at the moon. After 911 he indulged me by lying by my side on the sofa, nested in a blanket while I stared blankly at the tv as the towers fell over again and again. When I had pneumonia and stayed huddled in my recliner so I could breathe when I fell asleep, he sat by my side giving me head butts of encouragement (or more likely demanding attention).
This, my friends is only the beginning of Ziggy's story. Tomorrow in chapter two we will revisit the Incredible Journey of Ziggy Lost and Found in a lesson of acceptance that is seasoned with Hope.
If you have an Animal Ally, please remember to take a moment to thank them for all they bring to our lives and communities.
Peace and Meow,
Jenny







© 2010-2011 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

New Years Revealations

Happy New Year ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 

(almost) This year we enter a new decade as well, although my son contends that technically last New Year rang in the new decade. He's a Gemini so I don't even bother arguing with him unless I'm up for it.
I've been thinking about my New Year's post for quite some time and now that I finally sit down to write I feel like there's too much to say in one post. I also realized there's a lot of common ground with what I'd intended for my Jenny's Liver/Hepatitis C experience blog. As we draw to the end of the year I'm approaching the end of my nearly year long treatment for Hepatitis C. Needless to say it's been an unusual year.
I've really come to enjoy New Years, even more than Christmas. Christmas was fun when my kids were little, and when I was little, but now it doesn't feel like a big deal. And yes, I am one of those people who is irritated by the mass consumerism, the bombardment of advertising for unrealistic gifts (does anyone really walk outside on Christmas morning to find a Lexus with a bow on top? Much less one that's not covered with snow and ice?)
Christmas has it's own magic to be sure, but I've discovered New Years has a different kind of magic altogether.
For one thing there's Hope. People make resolutions and regardless of whether they actually keep them it's kind of nice that there is a day where people think about ways to better themselves.
Many of us, especially if you're just a little self absorbed like myself, like to take stock of the past year, the highs and lows, the joys and sorrows and if you're like me you take the time to review what you did well, what you might have done differently and what you damn well will never do again. I like to read back over my journal from the past year, a tradition I repeat on my birthday which is only a few weeks later, to refresh my memories and details that get lost in time.
I stopped drinking 10 years ago and soon after I became a grandmother for the first time. Nearly every New Years since "sobriety life" I have spent either working at the youth shelter or with my granddaughters. The last few years (since leaving my job at the shelter) have been with my granddaughters creating our own traditions as they get older, and keeping alive many of the same traditions from my childhood. We especially enjoy banging pots and pans and whooping at the moon at midnight, It's funny how at first, having the responsibility of watching the girls was kind of a safety net for me. Any alcoholic worth her salt will tell you that certain holidays are damn near physically painful the first few years of sobriety. I'm not sure when it happened, but the babies stopped babysitting me, and I began to look forward to spending the night with them for it's own sake and for the legacy of our own traditions. And while I'm realistic about resolutions, I don't like to  make promises I'm not certain I can keep, I do carry on one tradition I had started while still working in the shelter, I would have the kids make 3 wishes for the New Year, one for ourselves, one for our close community and one for the Global Community.
I wonder, if everyone made resolutions that were dedicated to not only self improvement, but to extending compassion and care for others...and kept those resolutions, what kind of a New Decade we all might create.
Peace, Blessings and Happy New Year,
Nana

 © 2010 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard