Putting "You" Into It

The other night, I received a compliment from one of my salsa buddies that really stood out to me. He had watched me teach several times, but had never actually watched me dance. He told me that, while he was very impressed with my dancing, he noticed something different about me. He went on about how, when he watches most dancers, their dance styles make it very obvious as to who their instructors were and which dancers they look up to. However, when he watched me, even having known the people I had taken lessons with, he wasn’t able to discern from my dancing who I had learned from or who I modeled my dancing after. He described me as “seamless.”

As I thanked him for the compliment, I explained to him why it meant so much to me, not just to get a compliment on my dancing, but to get that compliment specifically. Just as I did with him, I’ll take you guys back to my days as a "salsa scrub". I had been dancing and taking lessons since October of 2002, but it wasn’t until 2004 that I got involved in Atlanta’s salsa scene heavily. In the beginning of 2006, I was extra hungry and eager to improve, so along with taking as many classes and workshops as I could, I bought a video camera so that I could track my progress as a dancer. From time to time, I would have a friend record me dancing with some of my favorite salseras. To my dismay, I hardly ever liked what I saw. More often than not, I would bore myself when I watched the footage of my social dancing. "I look like that?!?! For real?"

After several months of cringing at the sight of my own dancing, I finally figured out why I was so discouraged with my personal performance. I realized that I was comparing myself to the dancers that I looked up to. I had subconsciously decided that anything I did that didn't stack up to what my salsa role-models could do just wasn't good enough. I was expecting too much of myself. I had to remind myself that, although I had been progressing, I had yet to put in the same years of training that those who inspired me did, so I couldn't expect myself to look as good as them (yet). But it wasn't just in that regard that I wasn't being fair to myself. Not only was I not on their level skill-wise, but I wasn't them. I had to realize that even if I ever matched them in talent and skill, I still will never be them. I will never be Gordon Neil. I will never be Joel Masacote, Sekou McMiller, Al Espinoza, or any other "salsa celebrity" I looked up to. At the same time, however, neither of them will ever be me.

You see, I came to the conclusion that, while I should still take inspiration from my role models and peers, I shouldn't try to be like them. No one will ever "do them" better than they can, and no one will ever "do me" better than I can. Yes, I may learn moves and techniques from various instructors and performers, but once I do them correctly, I then have to make them my own. I have to put "me" into it. This epiphany of mine gave me the conviction that a dancer should strive to find his or her self. I say this at the risk of being cliche (I hate that with a passion) but a dancer has to have his or her own dance style. I believe that we do our instructors and role models --and ourselves as well-- a huge disservice if we become carbon copies of them. No one should be able to look at a dancer and say "I can tell he's such-and-such's student" or "it's obvious that what's-her-face is her role model."

"How do I keep myself from becoming a clone of my instructor?" you might ask. It has a lot to do with what I mentioned earlier: putting "you" into your dance style. I know, I know... That's such a vague term, and I really have no way of explaining what exactly that means. I'd kick myself right now if I could, because I'm breaking a teaching rule that I live and die by, which is to not teach anything that you can't break down. Anyway, I digress... I suppose it's vague for a reason: I can't really tell you how to find yourself. Heck, I really don't even know how I found myself in my dancing. I do know, however, that once I realized that I could only be me and no one else, it eventually came out. I'm not sure if it's even something you can tangibly go after or take practical steps towards. I think it kind of just gradually comes about once you decide to be an individual. You absorb everything when it comes to technique of course, but as far as moves and persona, you begin to filter things out, keeping what you like and discarding the rest.

One thing that I believe will help is just knowing yourself, period. It's been my experience that a dancer's personality is reflected through their dancing, sometimes even amplified. If you're the type that loves attention, it will show. For instance, I recall one instructor who was around in my early days as a salsero, he was the prototypical "oozin' machismo", Alpha-male Latino. Everything about his dancing gave off a powerful, "look at me" type of energy. Me, on the other hand, I've always been a very calm, reserved person, and that shows in my dancing as well. I learned LA style salsa first, which tends to be more flashy and aggressive, but all the dancers that I eventually would look up to danced NY style --fluid, mellow and smooth-- which resonated with my personality more. Being blessed with long legs and arms as well (very little of me is torso), NY style also fit my body type. Once I learned the difference, I began to gravitate towards NY style salsa. My style is ever-evolving, but I would say that the dancer in me is very "smoove" and playful, or "tranquilo", as I was most recently described by a local Latin band member.

I had to express all of this to my friend (in fewer words, of course) because to me, it was confirmation that I had come such a long way from where I was before, and to hear it from someone else meant a lot to me. I hope that, through my teaching, dancing and blogging, I can inspire other dancers to have the same outlook on their dance lives. To be themselves and also to become better versions of themselves, constantly evolving and progressing.

Slaves To The Past

“Behind every B(expletive) is a man who made her that way.”

I found this statement while browsing the quotes section of an acquaintance’s Facebook page. While I have some sharp disagreements with this quote (more on that later), the main point does have some validity to it. We’ve all had our bad experiences, especially in the realm of love and relationships. These experiences can and often do have lasting effects on our lives and ultimately on who we become. While the quote I mentioned earlier specifically addresses scorned women, neither gender is immune to these life-altering events.

Closely related to the quote above, there is an old saying that once a “good girl” goes bad, she’s gone forever. A woman may start out as a nice girl. Fairly attractive, sweet and innocent. Somewhere along the line, she has one or more bad experiences with men. She gets her heart broken by her first love. Or, she gets cheated on and/or lied to. Or, she gets emotionally and/or physically abused. Or maybe she never has any experiences with men because the men always ignore her since she’s the quintessential “girl next door” who’s not “hot” enough, “sexy” enough, or “easy” enough. Whatever the case may be, the “good girl” changes for the worse. She gets tired of being burned, so she turns into a “bad girl.” She begins to use men the way that they used her before, making them pay for the pain she felt. She treats men the way they “deserve” to be treated. She puts up a fortress of walls around her heart and vows to never trust men again.

Though the story is not quite as familiar, the same thing can happen to men. Enter: the “Nice Guy”. A respectful guy and always a gentleman. Somehow or another, he also gets burned. He’s told he’s “too nice”, or “you’re sweet, but…” He gets strung along or always ends up in the “friend zone” due to his niceness. He gets passed over for or cheated on in favor of the “bad boys”. To protect his heart from being broken again, he also turns “bad.” He becomes a womanizer or “playa”, so to speak, to avoid love and get revenge on women for the one(s) who burned him. Or, being tired of finishing last as nice guys always seem to do, he becomes an a-hole, since they’re the ones who always seem to get what they want from women. They’re the ones who women always chose over him.

I can’t say that my experiences were anywhere near as extreme as what I just described, but I can relate to the “nice guy gone bad.” I was baffled by the fact that even though the women I knew described me as a sweet and respectful gentleman, I was always slept on in favor of the “bad” boys; guys who they would eventually complain about when they were mistreated by them. Sadly, this sometimes occurred with the same women who assured me that I was such a “good catch” (“Why aren’t you trying to catch me, then?” I wondered). Fortunately, I was mature enough to realize that being a “bad boy” wasn’t the way to go, and that those women were making bad decisions.

I say that, not to say that I have all the answers, but to say that we all have our own parts to play in what we become. That is why I have such a problem with the statement I mentioned earlier. To me, that phrase implies a lack of self-responsibility, as if you have no control over whether or not you allow the quality of your character to digress. A man cannot turn a woman into a “B” and a woman cannot turn a man into an “a-hole.” Yes, others may have caused or been apart of your negative experiences, but it is not them who makes you into whatever you are. Contrary to popular belief, you choose whether or not you become what you are. Many may argue this point, but if I were a betting man (and not quite as broke as I am), I’d be willing to bet that those same people who claim that the opposite gender made them the way that they are would have a huge problem if you tried to tell them that they have no control over their future; that they have no control over who or what they become. However, in saying that “a man made me this way” or “a woman made me this way”, that is exactly what they are stating, albeit inadvertently.

Recently, I was involved in a twitter discussion about this very same subject. I made the statement that no one makes you bitter; that you choose to become that. Another tweeter (we would eventually follow each other) argued that no one chooses to be bitter, but that they do what they have to do to adapt, protect themselves, and move on. To an extent, I agree with her argument. We don’t directly choose to be bitter. No sane person likes being bitter and mad at the world (or just the opposite gender). None of us want to be that way. However, we do have a choice in how we react to our experiences. Maybe not our initial reactions and feelings, but we definitely have a choice in how we adapt and protect ourselves from then on. We can choose to react positively, making wiser decisions and realizing that, no matter how many bad apples we've bitten, the men or women we've encountered don't represent the rest of the gender. Or we can choose to react negatively, blaming the other gender for our misery and viewing all of them as if they are the same person who hurt us before. We are ultimately responsible for how we allow our experiences to affect us, and when we choose to ignore that responsibility, it is then that we indirectly choose to become bitter.

The unfortunate thing about all of this is that it is so easy to take the low road. It takes less effort to just cast all the blame on others and choose not to view your situations objectively. I’m not saying that you are to blame in every situation that goes awry, and I’m also not excusing the other party in each of your relationships from any wrongdoing. However, we’d all do well to realize that in every relationship we have – good or bad, romantic or platonic – we are the common denominator. You are the common factor in every interaction you have. That may mean different things for each person and situation, but at the end of the day we have to look at ourselves as well as the others involved so that we can make the right decisions moving forward. We all must realize that when we allow ourselves be slaves to our pasts, allowing our experiences to control and shape us, we make things worse for ourselves and those who come in contact with us. When we feel entitled to treat members of the opposite sex harshly just because the same has been done to us in the past, we do nothing but feed the vicious cycle, adding gasoline to an already raging inferno.

Heartbreaker

Last week, one of my twitter buddies asked her followers how many hearts they’d broken in their lifetime. She stated that, to her knowledge, she’s only broken 1.5 (that .5 is questionable, she says). I thought about my body-count in the realm of love, and I can only recall one (that I know of), but that one instance was pretty hard on me. Ironically, it was around this time that year that it happened. Let’s hop in the time-machine and travel back to Tallahassee, FL, circa September-ish 2000…

It was early in my first semester at FAMU. I was making a routine trip to the mail room on a Saturday afternoon (when you’re a broke, hungry college freshman, you tend to check your mail like clockwork). I was pleasantly surprised by one particular piece of mail I got that day. It was from a young lady from my church back home. We’ll call her “T”. Here’s a little background on my relationship with T at that time:

I met T sometime earlier that year, though I can’t say exactly when. What I can remember is that I began to develop a crush on her sometime between mid-Summer and the beginning of my freshman year. The situation was one I was all too familiar with: I liked a girl who didn’t like me back. We were friends, but I could tell that she wasn’t really feelin’ me. As the time to head off for college drew closer and closer, I began to think about the possibilities of finding a potential girlfriend. I’d heard that the female-male ratio at FAMU was ridiculously lopsided. For someone who had never had a girlfriend up to that point, it was music to my ears. I’d heard that the ratio was anywhere from 3 to 1 all the way to a most likely exaggerated 10 to 1. Either way, it made perfect sense for me to wait until I arrived in Tallahassee to make any serious moves in the relationship department. However, I learned the hard way that no matter what you decide on in your mind, it’s hard to keep what’s in your heart from overflowing into your actions. As much as I tried to dial down my interest in T, she could still tell that I liked her. However, that didn’t change how she felt about me. Or so I thought…

Ok, so back to my special piece of mail. I opened the envelope to find a letter from T. This wasn’t just any old letter, mind you. She had written it on notebook paper, but only used the middle third of the paper. She cut the paper out and pasted it onto yellow construction paper, and used various colors of markers to draw hearts, stars, butterflies, and other lovey-dovey, girly things all over the paper. Due to all this, what would have been a 1.5 page letter was stretched out to a 4-page letter O_O. I can’t remember the exact words of her letter of course, but the “Cliff Notes” version would read something like this: “I didn’t like you when you were here, but now that you’re gone, I like you.” I was both elated and peeved about this at the same time. I was happy that someone I liked finally liked me back, but was annoyed that she didn’t begin to like me until I lived a four-hour drive away. Oh, how love has a strange sense of timing.

T also mentioned in her letter that she would be writing me a lot. This, my beloved readers, is a perfect case of “You think you know, but you have no idea.” Trust me when I say that there is no cockiness or arrogance involved in what I’m about to say, but the amount of letters (yes, this is the year 2000 when we hadn’t quite completely abandoned the concept of the hand-written letter) and e-mails I got from T bordered on obsession. I’ll give you guys an example of just how deep this thing went: I was on the infamous Blackplanet.com (the Myspace of its time) back then. I had numerous friends and had doctored up my page with all types of photos and animated GIFs and such, and I was a regular in the chat rooms. Shortly after T’s initial letter to me, she joined Blackplanet as well. However, every time I went to visit her page, no matter how much time had passed, she’d done nothing to her page. No bio, no profile pic, no background change, no nothing. Her page showed she had only one friend: me. I was the only reason she had joined Blackplanet.

While I did enjoy the attention I was getting from her, and relished the fact that someone actually liked me back, I knew in my heart that I didn’t want to start my first relationship ever with someone who was close to 300 miles away, not when there was the possibility of having someone closer. Yet, I still had feelings for her and was attracted to her, and didn’t know how to suppress that in my interactions with her. I’m ashamed to admit that I allowed my actions to lead her on to think that we were going somewhere. After a few weeks passed, I began to give this situation some deep thought. I didn’t feel right about it. That weekend, I returned home along with my roommate, his girlfriend, and several of her girlfriends for the annual FAMU vs TSU classic. I had bought T a ticket to come to the game with us, but for reasons I can’t remember, she wasn’t able to make it (I can remember, however, that ma dukes wasn’t too happy about it and felt she could have made more of an effort to come, but I digress). While I was at home, I talked with my dad about what I was feeling. He gave me some advice that I held on to up to this day; advice that I think all men should heed to. He told me that a big problem that many men have is not being up front about how they really feel, and that I should let her know what was going on with me at the very next opportunity.

I took my dad’s advice to heart. The next contact I had with T was when we were chatting on Blackplanet (in retrospect, I realize that this was a pretty whack way of going about it. Honestly, I really can’t remember if I purposely started the conversation there out of fear of conflict, or if I went for it out of convenience since I just happened to see her online. Anyway, the current version of me would have called her). I tried to ease into the topic, and I can’t remember how I started it off, but somehow T knew exactly where this was going. The conversation went downhill from there. She was upset, to say the least. Her parting words will forever be etched in my memory: “Let me get off of here ‘cause I’m not about to sit up on this computer and cry.” I left that conversation thinking to myself: “What have I done?”

I couldn’t stand the thought that I had broken someone’s heart; that I had lead someone on. I had always seen on various talk shows how men got a bad rap for cheating on women, dogging them out, and otherwise mistreating them in relationships. I had vowed to myself that I would never be “that guy,” that I would never give a woman any reason to think of me as a “dog” or “cheater.” Before I knew it, I had done just that. I felt horrible about it. It felt like a breakup, and we weren’t even together. If I didn’t already feel bad about it on my own, T made extra sure that I would. Over the next week or so, I continued to get emails from T, but they were no where near as pleasant as the ones she sent before. She told me how she used to have a picture of me in her wallet, and when others asked her who I was, she’d reply that I was someone who’d be “very close to her” very soon, but since our conversation, she had taken it out. I thought to myself, “Why even mention that now?” She also went on about how she thought I was different from other guys, but I proved her wrong. Feeling depressed about the situation, I called my mom and told her everything. Mom acknowledged where I messed up, but told me that although T was sincerely hurt, she was being immature and manipulative about the situation, trying to get me to feel as bad about it as she did (hey, it was working). She assured me that I really wasn’t like those other guys, and that I did the right thing once I realized that what I was doing was wrong. I wrote T back, telling her the same thing. I told her that “other guys” would have continued to lead her on, possibly even cheated on her while having another girl locally. Needless to say, Mom’s words were very timely. I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders after her pep-talk.

So, there it is, my first and only time breaking someone’s heart. I learned a few valuable lessons from it. I learned that I have to keep careful watch over my words and actions when hearts and feelings are involved. I also learned to be very clear about my intentions when it comes to relationships so that I don’t give any false direction or hope. Finally, I learned how to not allow a woman to drag me onto a proverbial “emotional roller-coaster” with her. As for my own heart, I have chips, bruises and few fumbles here and there, but for the most part, it remains in-tact. Hopefully, I’ll be smart enough about who I allow to hold it so that it won’t sustain any unnecessary heavy damage.

The Lost Art of Forgiveness

If you grew up in a religious family like I did, you’re probably familiar with Matthew 6:9-13. Even if the passage location doesn’t ring a bell, the words themselves most likely will. It’s often been referred to as “The Lord’s Prayer”:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
10 your kingdom come,

your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us today our daily bread.
12 Forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.’

I've heard and read this passage numerous times in my life, and probably will continue to. However, it was a while before I ever realized the true significance of verse 12. Jesus instructs us, in our prayers to God, to ask him to forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. In Luke 11, Jesus gives similar instructions to his disciples in response to their request to teach them how to pray. He uses “sins” in place of “debts,” but the point is pretty much the same: to forgive as we are forgiven. Once I took time to think about it, I realized just how convicting that statement is. Verses 14-15 drive the point of verse 12 home even further:

14 For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15 But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

Basically, God is going to forgive us to the same degree that we forgive others. That is a very convicting and scary thought, once you really think about it, especially due to the fact that most of us humans aren’t too good at forgiving. Sure, it sounds easy enough, but there’s a reason why God commands us to forgive others (Matt 18:20-22, Mark 11:25, Luke 17:4, Ephesians 4:32, Colossians 3:13). Of all the commands that I’ve read in the Bible, very rarely have I seen God command us to do something that comes easy or natural to us. It is the things that seem unnatural to us that he commands us to do. This makes sense to me, though. There’d be no need to command people to do things that they’d do anyway. Again, anyone could sit here and say that they don’t find it hard to forgive others. When it comes down to it, however, most of us fail at forgiving during those times when it really matters. It’s no big deal if your friend “borrows” loose change out of the change tray in your car, but what if they stole your rent money? It’s easy to forgive your spouse for a “little white lie,” but what if you caught him or her cheating on you with your best friend? In other words, it is those offenses that hurt the most that are the hardest to forgive, but these situations are the reasons that God gave us this command in the first place.

Just like any other command God gives us, I truly believe that he knew exactly what he was doing when he gave it. Not only did he realize that it would be something we’d have to learn to do, he also knew that not forgiving comes with many consequences. When we choose not to forgive, it is usually because we are either angry, bitter, or both. I recall seeing a couple of interesting quotes on these two feelings:

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured – Mark Twain

Bitterness: Drinking poison and hoping the other person dies – Unknown, paraphrased

See, God knew that if we chose not to forgive, we would actually do harm to ourselves. Anxiety, stress, high blood pressure… the list could go on. The ironic thing is, not forgiving someone rarely does any harm to the person that needs to be forgiven. Heck, that person usually doesn’t even know that he or she did anything wrong, much to the chagrin of the offended person.

I used to be one of the people I described earlier; someone who didn't find forgiving to be such a hard thing to do. Then again, I probably don’t need all ten of my fingers to count the amount of grievous offenses that have been committed against me. On top of that, I've always been very easy-going and have a long, damp fuse. Add all of that together, and you have a young man who hasn't been burned much in his life. If I do want to consider myself having been “burned”, my burns are probably cigarette lighter burns as opposed to the 3rd degree burns of others. It’s so few and far in between when I hold grudges (I’m too lazy for that) or am embittered that I guess it was hard for me to realize when I actually did feel bitterness in my heart. I’ll share with you all one of my rare cases of bitterness:

Several years ago, I was in L.A. for my first salsa congress. That weekend, I met a young lady from my Church’s sister congregation there. She was beautiful, sweet and loved salsa just as much as I did, so naturally I developed a crush on her. I wasn't too fired up about the possibility of a long-distance relationship, but I was open to it. We swapped info and, at least at the moment, there seemed to be a mutual desire to keep in touch. Unfortunately for me, she began dating someone else only a few weeks after I returned to Atlanta. I still remember the day I saw her Myspace profile pic change from a solo shot of her to one of her and some other dude. I already knew what was up, but I still went to her page and checked the relationship status to confirm. Anyway, I kept in contact with her. I tried to keep the contact as light as possible, as I didn't want to disrespect her boyfriend, but I didn't want her to think that I just dismissed her because she had a boyfriend, either.

A little over half a year later, I caught wind that she and her boyfriend parted ways. I began to gradually increase my attempts at contacting her so as to not come on too strong. She would respond back, and seemed at least a slight bit upbeat when she did, but to my frustration, I could only get her to respond via Facebook, Myspace, or text. As a matter of fact, I hadn't been able to reach her on the phone since the weekend that we met, and I had never received a return phone call from her. All of our communication was online. Needless to say, I was annoyed by this. “She’ll Facebook or Myscpace message me all day long but can’t call me?" I thought to myself. "Can’t even call me back once? She can’t be that busy. There’s no way she’s missed all my calls and voicemails. What’s the deal?”

I had all but given up on contacting her. By this point, it wasn't about me liking her anymore (ok, maybe a little. I can’t say that I wouldn't have been all smiles to see her name on the caller ID); it was about me wanting her to know how I felt. I felt disrespected and ignored. (Of course, had she been someone I didn't like, you’re probably not reading this blog right now.) However, I felt that what I had to say to her was better said at least over the phone, if not completely in person. Given her current track record of not picking up or returning my calls and the fact that I probably wasn't going to L.A. anytime soon, I figured it was pointless to try anymore. However, one night I was chatting with a mutual friend who also lived in L.A. at that time. Lo and behold, she asked me about her and I gave her the whole story. She encouraged me to try to reach out to her again, possibly by sending her an email. I wasn't too fired up about that, but I figured, “Eh, what the heck. Maybe she knows something I don’t know.”

It was at this point that I began to realize just how bitter I really was about the situation. As I began to type my email to her, I realized my statements were filled with attacking words and resentment, not with compassion. I had no idea why she hadn't returned my calls, or why she would only respond to me online. As much as I doubted it, she really may have been just that busy. Maybe she doesn't like talking on the phone. Maybe she has trust issues. Maybe I came across as a creeper to her, despite my efforts not to. While all these things were definitely tell-tale signs that she was just not that into me, I realized that I was holding a grudge against her over a bunch of uncertainty. I've always believed that you shouldn't fill in holes of unknowns with negatives, but I was doing just that. No matter what the reasons were for her lack of contact, she didn't deserve all that negativity from me. So, I started my message over. In it, I expressed an interest in getting to know her, and that I had been trying to call but couldn't seem to reach her or get a call back from her. I also asked if there was a good time to call her. To my dismay, she somehow was weirded-out by my message and misinterpreted it as me wanting to start a relationship with her (not that this wasn't true, but that wasn't the point I was trying to get across to her). Just to make sure I wasn't trippin’, I had other close friends of mine read the letter I wrote, and none of them came to the conclusion that she did. We were able to diffuse the situation through our mutual friend, but that was the last straw for me. I wasn't angry at her anymore (or so I thought), but I was done trying to contact her, let alone resolve anything with her.

As much as I told myself I had put the situation behind me, I realized I really hadn't. I couldn't see her profile pic randomly pop up in my Facebook news feed without having to fight thoughts of resentment. I eventually had to think to myself: “Have I really forgiven her if all I've done is just choose to not think about her?” I considered how it would be if she lived in the same city. If I had a problem with a brother or sister at my church and simply chose to not speak, say hi or give a hug, could I really consider myself having forgiven them? I couldn't bring myself to say yes. I wasn't sure how to proceed, but I knew that I hadn't truly forgiven her. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how petty my beef with her was, and the more I was upset at myself for having been so upset over something so trivial.

One day, we had a guest speaker at Church whose sermon was on this very same subject. The whole message had my attention. He expressed to us that forgiveness has everything to do with yourself and nothing to do with the other person and, contrary to popular belief, it has nothing to do with an apology, either. Regardless of what the other person did or whether or not the person even knows or acknowledges their wrongdoing, our forgiving is completely on us. We have to “take the needle off the record” and choose not to continue to entertain the thoughts that caused us that pain in the first place. Of course, there will always be those moments that trigger that pain for us again, but that is why forgiveness is not a one-time thing. You have to decide that you won’t continue to treat that person based on their actions. What stuck out to me most, though, was his explanation of the differences between forgiveness and reconciliation. Forgiveness is not reconciliation. (Below is a great video I found explaining many things that forgiveness is not. This may help point those who are confused in the right direction.)

Reconciliation involves both parties working towards a resolution. Reconciliation is good if you can accomplish it, but that’s not what is commanded of us. God commands us to forgive. I realized that I had been looking for reconciliation the whole time, not working towards forgiving her. I didn’t care if she apologized or not, but I wanted her to know how she made me feel. I felt that if I could just get it off my chest, I’d be ok. But what if I never got to talk to her again? What if I never got the opportunity to express to her how she made me feel? Would I be willing to hold on to all of that and decline to forgive her because of that? Was I willing to go to hell over something so small? I had to realize that when I’m judged at the end of all this, God isn’t going to ask me about her lack of returned phone calls. God is going to ask me why I wasn’t willing to let go. God allowed his son to die for all of our sins, and both of them forgive us for repeated sins every day. Jesus lived his whole life as a human with full knowledge of the fact that his best friends would betray him, and still treated them as his beloved brothers. He did this not only to save us from our sins, but also so that we would have no excuses when it comes to forgiving.

I won’t say that I’ve completely mastered the art of forgiveness, but I’m much, much closer than I once was. I’ve realized why it is so very important to learn to forgive, especially in those painful moments. Some of you reading this may have had experiences that were much more painful than mine, both emotionally and physically. Whether it’s something petty and trivial or something that most would regard as unforgivable, we must all realize that none of us are in a position to refuse forgiveness to another, and doing so only hurts ourselves.

Put Some STANK On It!!!

Several years back, I saw an Old Spice commercial where two women were chatting in a doorway at a party. This guy walks through on his way to the kitchen and has to squeeze past them. As this happens, the announcer states that smell is “the strongest sense tied to memory.” A few short seconds after the guy passes them, the ladies smile at each other, as if they are both thinking the same thing. One takes off to go find the guy, with the other only a split second behind her.

The more I marinated on the announcer’s statement, the more I realized just how true it was. Certain aromas, just as much as or even more than music, can take you back in time. The smell of fried chicken and collard greens takes me back to Sunday dinner at my grandmother’s house (forgive me for not being inconspicuous about my roots). The smell of beef on a grill takes me back to the downstairs lunchroom during my first two years of college at FAMU. Of course, nostalgic smells are even more powerful when they come from and remind you of people. Anytime I smell a particular bottle of Garnier on a woman passing by, it reminds me of my ex-girlfriend’s beautiful long, spiral-curled hair (I blame her for my attraction to big, long, curly/wild/messy hair lol). I can remember every woman I’ve ever smelled “Chanel No. 5” on. Needless to say, I have a weakness for good perfume -- Chanel, “Angel” and “Euphoria” to be exact. Wearing either of these is the equivalent to calling my name in a sexy voice. They have a similar effect as the guy in the aforementioned Old Spice commercial did on the two women he walked past. Funny how those addictive smells always catch you after the wearer is already about 5 ft past you. Fortunately for me (and my neck, can we say “whiplash?”), I have enough discipline to keep this effect from getting me into any kind of “trouble,” but I appreciate a good-smelling woman all the same.

As you can probably guess, I also pride myself on smelling good as well. Not just because of my appreciation for it on the opposite gender, but I feel like I have to live up to my name. You see, “Myron” is derived from the Greek word “Myrrh”, a fragrant sap that comes from a tree native to Somalia & Ethiopia. For those of you familiar with the account of Jesus, it was one of the gifts given to him as a baby. “Myron” has also been translated to mean “fragrant balm or oil.” In other words, it’s not so much of a stretch to say that my name means “cologne.” At one point in time, between getting a few bottles as gifts, hand-me-downs from my dad and buying my own, I had about nine different bottles of cologne. I’ve since downsized to a rotation of about three or four. My weapons of choice (I call them my "Stank-goods", as opposed to "Smell-goods") are normally "Burberry Brit", "Bvlgari BLV" and Jovan "N-R-G". Burberry is not currently in the rotation, as I didn’t have money to burn when I ran out and had to bring an inexpensive yet effective Cool Water off the bench as a temporary replacement. My unexpected fourth weapon came as a gift after doing a salsa lesson at a health-fair run by my mom’s sorority sisters (a big “OO-OOP” to any Deltas reading this). It was a bottle of Curve Connect (of course some Deltas would give me something packaged in one of my favorite colors). So I normally rotate which bottle I wear, never wearing the same one twice in a row to keep things new. Also, adding this to the fact that I don’t wear cologne every day (no use wearing it at work, my co-workers are mostly men) means I don’t run out of cologne very quickly.

So far, my rotation approach has worked pretty well. I get “Ooh… You smell good!” compliments on the regular. However, I’ve been giving it some thought after a good friend of mine mentioned that she likes to have a signature scent that is her “me” scent and likes the same on a guy. I then thought about how I’ve smelled my favorite scent on particular women and how my nose would look forward to seeing (smelling?) them. One of my co-workers when I worked at my last school (DeVry) would always wear Egyptian Musk. She wore a lot of it; not enough to make me sneeze when hugging her but enough to get stuck on my shirt. It was also enough to where I’d know she was at work without having seen her. (Unfortunately, my nose was heartbroken once I discovered that Egyptian Musk was unisex.) One of my salsa friends wears Angel, and I can always tell when she’s on the floor because I smell her before I see her. I began to wonder, would it be better to have a signature smell? A smell that says “yep, that’s Myron right there” when people smell it?

I decided to take a census on this. I even got fancy with it and decided to put a survey up online to see what people think. (LADIES ONLY: CLICK HERE) Should I continue to keep a rotation going, or should I just stick to one scent? Of course, if it turns out that I decide to stick to one smell, I’m most likely going to come back and add on another survey to this blog, as I’m going to have a hard time choosing which cologne I want to use to represent “Myron.” But we’ll spray that bottle if and when we come to it ;-)

***UPDATE***

It's been a little over a month since I posted my "cologne" survey. As of right now (9.27.11), the online results are dead even. 42.9% said that I should continue to rotate colognes. 42.9% also said that I should keep a signature scent. The "other" votes were, more or less, for me rotating, but being specific about the rotation. One person suggested different fragrances for different occasions. Another said she wears the same thing for 6 months straight, then changes it up.

I've decided to continue with my rotation, but designate each fragrance to a particular occasion or situation. Once I decide which colognes to rotate, I'll have one for church, one for dancing, and one for dates or going out. When that special someone arrives, whoever she is, I will allow her to choose her favorite, then dedicate that one to whenever we go out.

The PRKD (Puerto-Rican Kitchen Dancer) by Richie Deguia

Today marks a special day in the history of "Random SMOOVEness." For today, I'm featuring my first ever guest blogger, Richie Deguia. @RichieDeguia and I share a common love for salsa dancing and putting our random thoughts on the internet. About a year and a half ago, he posted a note on Facebook that resonated with countless salser@s in our overlapping circles. It recently began to get some buzz again, so I decided I'd share it with you guys. There's not much, if anything, in his article that I don't agree with. So, without further ado, here is Richie's wonderfully expressed blog, "The PRKD-- The Puerto Rican Kitchen Dancer."

Before I start this blog, I would like to say that I know several Puerto Ricans that can dance their (butts) off. They put in the time and work and are phenomenal dancers that one day I strive to become. With that being said, our community has been invaded by what we have deemed the PRKD. The Puerto Rican Kitchen Dancer. Why that name you ask? Well, I will be more than happy to explain. Our Latin community has exploded over the last decade and is continuing to grow. Mostly Mexicans and Puerto Ricans. We didn't call it The Mexican Kitchen Dancer because most of them that do dance don't pat themselves on the back on how great of dancers they are not. Most of them wait for the next merengue or bachata song, pick out a target and proceed to molest them on the dance floor. I respect that. Now the Puerto Rican Kitchen Dancer sings to a different tune. First of all, they swear up and down that they can dance but have had no formal training whatsoever. I am assuming they feel they are blessed to dance due to lineage or by just being latino. All of my friends that can dance know very well that dancing is earned through hard work and sweat. We have to put ourselves through (crappy) drills that train our bodies to react a certain way when we want it to. When asked "Can you Salsa?", the common response is "I'm Puerto Rican, of course I can". Their dancing background usually consists of lessons taught in their mothers kitchen when they were the ripe age of 6. Family reunions or get together's are also another form of learning salsa as groups of non dancers teach other non dancers how to non dance.
Timing is never explained and everyone is taught to "feel" the music. Pronounced pausing while they dance, especially on counts 1 and 5 are very common to the PRKD. Dance floor etiquette is non existent when sharing the floor with a PRKD. Best believe you are going to catch a stray heel from the woman he is leading or a flailing limb, even though you are staying in your space. The PRKD is notorious for his overwhelmingly strong lead. Technique is thrown completely out of the window. In it's place, retard-like strength turns accompanied by off balanced footwork that becomes a recipe for sore shoulder soup (for the ladies). If you don't follow this limb destroying machine, he will look at you like you have no reason being on the same dance floor with him.
The PRKD is not limited to men. Women suffer from this disorder as well. A PRKD woman is VERY difficult to control on the dance floor. Be prepared to feel the burn if you are dancing with one of these women. One female PRKD is equivalent to dancing with 8 women that can dance well. Get ready for mad fits of frustration if you decide to embark on this dangerous mission. Because Puerto Rican women can be stupid hot, we tend to throw ourselves into the fire every so often. Have you ever tried to stir a pot of molasses with a toothpick? If not, that's what it's like to try to give a PRKD a left or right hand turn. As a lead, make sure you increase yours in order to get this female juggernaut around on the dance floor. And forget about fingertip dancing. Use hands. These women will easily snap a finger without hesitation and go about their merry way, as you scream like a little (girl) in agony. Keep it simple when dancing with these women or you will exert more energy than needed. Even that in itself can feel like a triathlon.
With all that being said, just be honest with people in life and don't brag about a skill you don't have. Skills are acquired, not passed down like a family heirloom.

Well said, Richie. Well said. Let the salsa-church say "Amen."

Worst. Student(s). EVER.

For most people, learning something new can be a very daunting task. It’s even worse when you’re learning in the company of others. Worse yet, is when this “something new” is learning how to dance. Some more than others (or some, not at all, apparently), we all seem to have this fear of making fools of ourselves. No one wants to embarrass themselves in front of others. No one wants to look like they don’t know what they’re doing. Although it still kinda-sorta baffles me, I can understand people being apprehensive about taking a dance class. Whenever I’m discussing with newcomers about the possibility of taking classes with me, more often than not I’m met with excuses reactions like “But I don’t know how to dance!” or “I suck at dancing!”, to which I jokingly respond “Well, you didn’t enter kindergarten knowing how to read already, did you?” (I did, actually, but that’s beside the point.) I’ve even had a friend say to me “But I don’t know how to take a salsa class!” Err?!?! That one took the cake for me. I’m like, “Why do you need to know how to take a class? You don’t need prior experience to learn!”

Within the past year, I’ve actually had to give that statement some thought, though. It is very, very rare that I have problematic students, but two in particular have made me realize that some people actually do not know how to take a class. Or, should I say, they don’t know how to act in a class. It really has nothing to do with what you do or do not know, actually. It all has to do with your attitude; how you approach the class. The students that I described previously, despite their understandable fears and inhibitions, had the one thing that I will ever require from a student. That thing is humility. The majority of my students come in with a humble attitude. They know that they don’t know much. Even if they did know a little somethin’, they are open to learning more, or even re-learning what they think they know. The two students I’m about to rant about describe to you now were anything but humble. They reminded me of an old saying about a tea cup being full; they did not have room for anything else in their heads. They believed they already knew it all. Okay, maybe they didn’t think they new it all, but they “knew enough to be dangerous” as some would say. They knew enough to make themselves think --maliciously or not-- that they were at a higher level than they really were. I’m never one to take it upon myself to cut someone else’s ego down to size, but believe me, in these cases I surely wanted to.

***WARNING: I’m about to do some rare ranting here, so I’m going to be a bit more long-winded (or penned, keyboarded… whatever) than usual. Carry on. :-) ***

- One night, while I was teaching my Friday night beginner’s class at The Sanctuary, there was one particular woman who was there with a date. I’d seen this woman in a friend of mine’s salsa class before, back when I used to co-teach with her, so I knew that she (somewhat) had the basic step down. We’ve all gone through this (myself included), but apparently knowing a little bit or having taken a few classes makes people think that they know enough to teach others. Now, this is somewhat understandable if you just have a group of friends who want to learn and you are, by default, the most experienced person. However, this lady, in her infinite wisdom, decided to teach her date in the middle of my class. As I demonstrated how to do a salsa basic, she felt she needed to explain to her date what was going on, at the same time that I’m explaining it; as if I was speaking a different language and he needed a translator. This was in addition to random chatter between the two of them (mostly from her to him, actually) while I was explaining things. Also, during the basic footwork portion of my class, I have everyone, male or female, face the same direction for simplicity’s sake, and then adjust once we get to the partnerwork. This lady, instead of following my instructions, stands in front of her date, facing him, doing the basic as if she was dancing with him already. Several times in the first few minutes of class, I had to stop and say “Is everyone with me?” Normally, this is enough to get everybody to stop chattering and regain their attention. Not in this case, unfortunately. Everyone else except for our “special couple” fell in line. I ended up using my “let’s get focused” statement three times in a row, each time getting louder and aiming more towards them. Even then, they continued with their own “private lesson” in the middle of my class. By that point, everyone else in the class could tell that I was doing my best to not call them out, and I could tell that they understood my annoyance. This eventually stopped, albeit briefly, when the lady left for a drink at the bar. By the time she returned, we were in the partnerwork portion of the class. Again, this lady, in her ever-increasing infinite wisdom, decides not to join in as a follower like the rest of the women in the class. Instead, she follows her date (I have the guys rotate partners), coaching him along the way as he dances with the other women.

Now, some of you reading this may be wondering, “What’s the big deal? She was just trying to help her friend.” As I stated earlier, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re trying to teach someone what you now and there’s no one else around. The problem was that she was doing this while I was teaching. It is very disrespectful to me or any other teacher to try to do their job at the same time that they are. It’s even more disrespectful when you don’t know their craft as well as they do. Personally, when I'm in another instructor's class, regardless of whether I (think) I already know what they're teaching or not, I show them their due respect but shutting the heck up and giving my undivided attention. Whether they show it outwardly or not, you'll be hard pressed to find an instructor who isn't annoyed by a student who acts like a now-it-all. Instructors know that students who do this can cause their share of collateral damage. They can interfere with the other students’ ability to learn. Although he was none the wiser at the moment, this woman’s date was on the wrong end of this. To his credit, he was humble enough to know that he didn’t know the first thing about dancing salsa and was eager to learn. Unfortunately for him, however, he couldn’t learn from the one person in the room who actually knew his stuff because his date was in his ear the whole class. What his date didn’t realize is, when you try to do the teacher’s job for him, or when you’re busy trying to practice a move or show off what you think you know while the teacher is teaching, not only do you prevent yourself from possibly improving what you think you already know, you prevent your partner from paying attention to what they need to hear. Also, even when done with the best of intentions, when you try to teach another student while the teacher is teaching, you may be teaching them the wrong things. It’s a case of the “legally blind” leading the “literally blind,” if you will. Finally, when you’re disruptive in a class, it gives other students in the class the impression that the teacher is unable to keep his class’ attention at best; unable to control it at worst. Fortunately in this case, my other students did not follow suit, but it could have eventually turned into a class full of students who decided to do their own thing because they no longer respect the instructor.

I allowed my calm, cool side (I’m not sure I even have another side, but I wanted to have one at that point) to get the best of me, so I didn’t respond negatively. However, I did decide that if something similar were to happen again, I would respectfully pull the student aside and explain that I will not tolerate a “private lesson” going on in the middle of my class. If you feel you can teach someone better than I can, by all means do so, but at least respect me enough to do so outside of my class. Now, on to my other “Worst Student Ever”…

- A few months ago, I had a really slow night in my beginners’ class. I only had one lady in my class that night at that point. She had been a loyal student for quite a while. Just before I got started, another student walked in. From the moment I introduced myself, this dude had this aloof, know-it-all vibe about him. Every question I asked him was replied to with a very short, one-word answer, almost as if he had a 3-foot thick brick wall up in front of him. As I lead him over to my corner of the studio, I asked if he’d taken any salsa classes before. He informed me that he had been taking classes and dancing salsa for a whole year. I explained to him that my class was a beginner’s class. I didn’t turn him away because, due to my experience, I’ve learned to take it with a handful grain of salt when people tell me how many years they’ve been dancing or that they’re at a particular level. I knew I needed to see him first. I told him that we’d just warm up with one song and go from there, so as to accurately gauge his level. I can’t say that my instincts were wrong. I could tell that he knew what the steps were as we did them, but there were several details that needed fixing. Although he was able to keep time as he danced, he looked all kinds of rhythm-less, looking down the whole time with his arms dangling to his side. Now, these are things I normally would not hold against any student in a beginner’s class, but according to him, he was not a beginner. According to me --the instructor-- however, he definitely did not live up to the “year of dancing” that he laid claim to, and he definitely was not someone I’d have allowed into my intermediate class.

I mentioned earlier that most students – the good ones, anyway – have at least a decent level of humility about them. Regardless of how much they do or don’t know, they are open to learning more. This guy, not so much. As I went about teaching, I’d look back at him through the studio’s mirror to see him looking away at the other classes and private lessons going on. He paid very little, if any, attention to me. Even as I was addressing flaws and mistakes that I saw in him (I usually address various things to the entire class, so as to not single anyone out), he still chose to ignore just about everything I said and did. I was very irritated on the inside, but again, I allowed the nice guy in me to prevent me from calling him out. Maybe it was a turn off for him for me to continue teaching basic material to him after he told me that he had been dancing “for a year.” Again, however, what I saw from him did not warrant me teaching him anything above what I was already doing.

Once we got to the partnerwork portion of my class, I asked him if he knew how to do a cross-body lead, a very basic yet important maneuver in LA-Style Salsa. I wish I could have recorded this guy’s reaction. He gave me this disgusted look, like “how dare you ask me if I know how to do a cross-body lead!?!?” Apparently, it was an insult to him for me to have asked him such a question. “Of course I know how to do a cross-body lead. I told you, I’ve been dancing for a year already” he replied. “Well, show me your cross-body lead” I said, as my smile and pleasant outward reaction belied the pissed-off-ness I was holding back on the inside. Before demonstrating, he said to me in a snide tone “With or without an inside turn?”, as if he was trying to drill it into my head that he already knew what he was doing. By this point, I really had to fight to not release my inner male Bon Qui-Qui and snap back at him. I’m like “Did this dude really just get smart with me? I’m about 3.14 seconds from putting him in his place and bringing his ego down to the level that his dancing is really at!” Turning up the filter between my thoughts and my mouth, I simply replied “whichever you like.” He proceeded to execute the move and, for all intents and purposes, he did it correctly. It was done on time, and the desired result was achieved. However, I could tell just from watching his execution and from the response of my other student that his leading technique was lacking, and he still looked awkward and rhythm-less. Now, I would expect that from a bona-fide beginner and would have actually applauded him if that was the case. However, given the level that he claimed to be at and the fact that he had such an arrogant attitude to boot, I was not impressed.

I will admit, though, that my next actions were a mistake on my part. Since my other student wasn’t exactly a clueless beginner, I decided to try to teach the new guy on the level that he thought he was at. Half of this was me trying to ease the tension between us, the other half was me trying to show him that he really wasn’t where he thought he was. To make matters worse, as I had him attempt the pattern I was teaching, he looked horrible while doing it, but had the nerve to impatiently correct my other student at the same time. Not only was there tension between me and him, there was now tension between him and my other student. Several times I had to stop his corrections to her and say “I got this”, as I saw from my other student’s facial expressions and body language that she was close to going off on him. I thought to myself, “I know this dude does not have the nerve to correct my student in my class!” Needless to say, the end of this class could not have come quickly enough for me. The only positive thing I could say about him was the fact that when his phone went off towards the end of the class, his ringtone was the victory song from the Final Fantasy video game series (my inner geek almost completely forgave him for everything prior). I felt like telling him off at the end of class, but I let him leave without getting an earful from me. However, he did find me on Facebook the next day. That was definitely a surprise to me. I jumped at the opportunity to do what I should have done the night before: I respectfully and tactfully told him about himself via Facebook message. I kindly yet sternly informed him that I am the only teacher in my class and that I will never again tolerate anyone but me doing the correcting in my class. Even more surprisingly, he actually had a respectful response and we more or less came to an understanding. More or less.

Amidst all the drama, I did learn a few valuable lessons. There are times that it really does pay for me to loosen the normally tight reigns I keep on my tongue. (Respectfully) speaking my mind in this situation would have saved a lot of time and frustration for both me and my other student, who expressed to me afterwards that if my “problem student” ever returned while she was there, she would leave immediately. I felt horrible after hearing that and vowed to never allow any student to have such a negative effect on another. Fortunately it didn’t, but my lack of assertiveness and my usually diplomatic nature almost cost me a loyal student and money. I also promised myself I would never again go out of my way to accommodate a student who wasn’t being respectful, nor would I teach anyone based on the level that they thought they were; only on the level that I, in my experience, perceive them to be. Both these situations taught me that it is ok for me to put the “nice guy” in me away when necessary, and that doing so does not necessarily mean that I’m being unprofessional. Sometimes, not putting my foot down can do more harm than good. I hope that those of you who are reading this that take or ever will take a class of any type learn a lesson from this as well. Please be respectful of your teachers. Realize that if you’re in a class, there’s a reason you’re taking the class and not teaching it: it’s that you have something more to learn in that area and only through having a sense of humility will you learn what that instructor has to offer you.

Hearts On Lockdown

Proverbs 4:23 – “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.” (NIV 1984)

The Bible, especially throughout the book of Proverbs, is full of invaluable advice and wisdom. The scripture mentioned above is but one of those gems. However, this scripture, just like many others, is often misunderstood and therefore misused. The true wisdom in it is lost through that, unfortunately.

For a long time, I considered Proverbs 4:23 to be a very vague statement. I’ve never doubted the validity of the scripture per se, but I’ve never really had a good grasp for what it truly meant, either. However, despite my lack of understanding of this scripture, whenever I would hear it being used outside of a sermon, I always got the feeling that it was being misused. More often than not, “guard your heart” is used as a defense mechanism of sorts; used to prevent one’s feelings from being hurt (again). From helping others to friendships to romantic relationships, many have extended their hearts, only to have them dropped, broken and trampled on by others. At first glance, Proverbs 4:23 seems like an endorsement from God to place one’s heart on lockdown and throw away the key. However, as always, my inquisitive mind wouldn’t allow me to leave it at that.

Protecting one’s self from pain is a natural human reaction. When we experience pain, our minds instinctively react by avoiding the source of that pain. This is especially the case with matters of the heart. Emotional wounds are not (usually) visible like physical wounds are, but they often hurt more and take longer to heal. Because of this, many people do whatever is necessary to avoid pain and protect their hearts from further damage. This rings no truer than in the area of relationships. Many women do what a good friend of mine calls “The Heisman,” stiff-arming any guy that tries to get near their heart because they’ve been hurt by men in the past.



Likewise, many guys end up becoming “players” to avoid loving again, due to having been burned by love before. Women take their hearts and lock them away in a dungeon at the bottom of a castle guarded by a fierce dragon. Men place their hearts in the middle of a minefield surrounded by razor-wire and sentry guns. This is all done in the name of “guarding their hearts.”

As I considered all of this, I really couldn’t accept that this is what God meant for us when he encouraged us to guard our hearts. I thought about how Jesus commands us to love one another (Matthew 22:39, John 13:34). This command and many others like it imply that we must give our hearts. I asked myself, how can I give my heart and protect it at the same time? I can’t possibly give my heart and guard it too. Well, not if I’m guarding it in the way that I’d seen others do, anyway. You can’t give your heart if you’ve got it locked away in a safe. This reminded me of Romans 12:2, which tells believers that we cannot conform to the patterns of the world. This further convinced me that our society’s method of heart guarding was not what God had in mind when he had the author of Proverbs write down chapter 4, verse 23. I realized I now had a pretty good handle on what guarding your heart is not, but I still had a while to go before I realized what guarding your heart does mean.

As I began my own research, I consulted some of my spiritually-minded friends on the subject. The scripture that most of them pointed me to was Philippians 4:7-8. I learned that to truly guard my heart, I must focus on what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and praiseworthy; the things that God would want me to set my thoughts on, and trusting in God and his peace to do the guarding for me. Verse 7 mentions that this peace “transcends all understanding.” This, I take it, is no coincidence, as most people would not understand it if you tried to tell them to release all control of their heart’s security and hand it over to God. As I stated earlier, matters of the heart are very serious, and most people wouldn’t trust anyone but themselves to take care of their hearts. At the end of the day, however, we must realize that God can do a much better job of protecting our hearts than we ever can. We have to stop leaning on our own understanding (Proverbs 3:5) and trust that he will protect us if we go about things his way.

After this revelation, the last half of Proverbs 4:23 stood out to me a bit more. It refers to the heart as the “wellspring of life.” The first thing that came to my mind when I read “wellspring” was a literal freshwater spring; a natural source of water. I thought about how when water first emerges from a spring, it is pure and free of any contaminates. I then thought about what may happen if said source of water became polluted. All forms of life that depended on this source of water would suffer from it. As I began to marinate on this, a friend of mine that I sought advice on this subject from informed me that the ancient Hebrew text of Proverbs 4:23 also included “mind” and “thought” along with the heart. Philippians 4:7-8 began to make more and more sense. We guard our hearts, not by building a fortress around it, but by keeping a careful watch on what we allow into our minds. What we set our thoughts on directly affects our hearts, and if our minds are polluted, so will our hearts be. Once the heart is poisoned, everything else goes with it.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think God is telling us to throw all caution to the wind and leave our feelings and emotions out in the open for anyone to attack. Our feelings are indeed included in the process of guarding our hearts. However, studying this out revealed to me that guarding your heart goes so much deeper than just protecting your feelings. It involves one’s entire state of mind and attitude. Keeping these things pure and pleasing God with our very thoughts will keep our emotions far out of harm’s way. As I thought about the true meaning of guarding my heart, I realized that I need to take inventory of what I’ve been allowing into my thoughts. I think we all could stand to take a moment and assess the things that we allow ourselves to see, hear, and think about on a daily basis. If these things are not pleasing to God, we must consider the possibility that our own thought processes are leading us to the things that we feel are putting our hearts in danger in the first place.

Just NASTY... Part Deux

- Having fallen victim to a lemon on my previous automobile purchase (you’d think the term lemon and Honda wouldn’t be found in the same sentence, but I digress), I’ve spent all but 6 collective weeks between August ’10 and now riding CCT and MARTA to and from work. It’s been an experience that has made me stronger and more grateful (especially grateful for my new ride ^_^), but it should come as no surprise to anyone who has ever had to rely on public transportation that some of my experiences were less than pleasant.

MARTA is an acronym for “Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority”. However, a few unsavory experiences have driven me to dub a new definition for MARTA: “Musty And Rancid Travelers of Atlanta.” I’ve had several occasions on the train where someone enters the train and I have to fight with all my heart, mind, soul and strength to keep from gagging. Now, I can understand if said person is homeless, or if they just got off work from a physically strenuous job. Doesn’t necessarily make the smell any more tolerable, but I understand. However, there are regular looking people who get on the bus or train just smelling like they haven’t so much as touched a bar of soap all week. Call me judging, but I honestly don’t see any valid excuse for a non-homeless/poor person to smell like that. Don’t get me wrong, I have my “had to skip a shower ‘cause I slept in too long and I’m late for work” days just like the next person does. But please believe I don’t make a habit out of not bathing. Even if I didn’t do anything funk-inducing the previous day, I just don’t feel right without a shower. I just really don’t understand how the thought process of “Hmm… I haven’t washed recently” could ever escape anyone’s mind. Then again, that just lets me further know that we don’t all think alike. That can be such a sad and unfortunate fact in some cases. And in cases like this, it’s Just NASTY.

- One particular unpleasant situation on MARTA happened to be devoid of any nose-hazards. Still, it was just as nasty. My date and I were leaving the Hawks game (we won) and were taking the train back to where we parked. Just as we were about to sit down, we saw something that made us stop in mid-sit and move immediately to the seats across the isle. A red substance looked to have been smeared across the seat. It appeared to have originated from the middle and was smeared out towards the edge. We figured we were better off assuming that what we saw was not some spilled Kool-Aid that had dried up. As we sat in our significantly more sanitary seats, we watched in amusement the reactions of others as they almost sat in that… well… “red stuff” and quickly decided to sit elsewhere. I regret that I didn’t have the presence of mind to whip out my handy-dandy iPhone at the time, as this was definitely a YouTube-worthy moment. Nothing made our night more than seeing the looks on the other passengers’ faces. Looks of disgust that seemed to scream out “Now that’s Just NASTY.”

- In my 28 years on this planet, I’ve had to share many facilities with other members of the male gender. I’ve lived in a house with my dad and younger brother. I’ve shared a high school football field house with dozens of other adolescent males. I’ve shared a locker room at an MMA gym. I’ve had up to 4 roommates in the same apartment. So you can imagine that I’ve been exposed to (and been the cause of) my share of foul smells. Being a guy, you get used to them. You still don’t like them when they happen, but you get used to them. But, sometimes a smell hits your nostrils that is so otherworldly that it almost makes you lose your religion as you’re knocked back. Take, for example, the male public restroom. Again, the following doesn’t make the smell any less offensive, but given the fact that it’s a public restroom (a male public restroom at that), you all but expect horrible smells from time to time. The sad thing is, sometimes these smells come from unexpected sources. We’ve all walked into a public restroom (at least we guys have, not sure about you ladies out there) and realized a second too late that someone just bombed Hiroshima in there. However, there are a few people at my place of work whom I’ve walked into the bathroom after and been more abhorred by the lingering body odor that they left behind than the deuce that they just dropped. It’s one thing to have to hold your breath from the effects of #2, but to take a half step through the restroom door only to turn right back around because the leftover B.O. slapped you in the face is just all kinds of wrong. That is just baffling to me. I mean, really…. How…what… how could… o_O ... You know what, forget it. I’m not even going to try to break my brain over that. I don’t even want to imagine. ‘Cause that’s… Just… NASTY.

The Power of Words

“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

O_o

Somebody done told you wrong.

Ok, ok… I realize the intent of this statement is to help young children learn how to deal with verbal abuse. I get that. And, for the most part, it does its job. Honestly, though, I think whoever originally coined this phrase was lying to him or herself, trying hard to convince one’s self that the words of others had no power. And we’d all like to think that that’s true. We’d all love to think that, as we’ve gotten older, we’ve matured past the point of using words in a malicious manner and allowing the words of others to affect how we feel about ourselves. However, considering the amount of “grown” adults who still wield insults like Darth Vader wields a light saber, and the ridiculous amount of people of all ages who suffer from depression, we’d be foolish to believe so.

We all have a limit to what we can verbally take from others. Some people couldn’t be more sensitive if they had tissue paper for skin, while others have skin so thick it seems nothing short of bullets will pierce them. Still, no one is verbally immune. Now, given all of this, you’d think that people would practice the golden rule when it comes to the things that they say. Not so much, unfortunately. For as many people there are that are so very guarded, almost to the point of being overprotective of their hearts and feelings, there are just as many people who choose to have no discipline when it comes to their speech. (Ironically, these two traits can often be found in the same person) So many people seem to brag about how freely they speak their minds, saying things like “I don’t hold my tongue for nobody!” or “I say what I feel!”

It disturbs and disgusts me to know that many people have such a blatant disregard for the feelings of others and the effect that their words may have on them. I’ve even seen people on twitter make statements such as “(Expletive) yo’ feelings.” Really? Seriously? I doubt that it would go over well with those who feel this way if others were to say the same thing to them. Again, the golden rule goes flying out the closed window of the 50th floor. Said person would probably be quick to say “I don’t care,” but I’d dare to call their bluff. Deep down, no one wants to feel as if their feelings are not being considered or protected at all.

The argument is often made that many people are just way too sensitive and that they need to toughen up. While this is a legitimate argument, this is not an excuse to say whatever comes to mind without restraint. There is also the train of thought that “the truth hurts” and some are just not able to take it. This is also true in many cases; but again, this is not permission to deliver said “truth” in whatever package you see fit. Going even further, there are some who choose not to keep a tight reign on their tongues, under the guise of “keeping it real.” While I am an advocate of keeping it real, again I say that this is not a license to run off at the mouth with reckless abandon.

Contrary to popular belief, “keeping it real” and telling the truth are not synonymous with being rude, mean, or unnecessarily blunt. Many believe that being nice, compassionate and considerate in one’s speech is equivalent to sugar-coating things and watering down the truth. I wholeheartedly believe that this could not be any farther from the truth. It is very possible to be real and tell the truth without being inconsiderate and rude. In order to accomplish this, one has to be willing to put one’s self in another person’s shoes, considering how they would feel if they heard the words that they were about to deliver. When I have even the slightest inkling that something I’m about to say may be offensive, I think to myself, “How would I feel if someone said that to me? How would I want someone to relay this to me if they felt that it was necessary to say such a thing?” The sad thing is, however, doing this requires much more effort than most people are willing to put forth. Many will consider themselves as not having time to walk on egg-shells in conversations or coddling people because their feelings are too easily hurt. Being polite while speaking one’s mind is not about that. Not at all. It is simply about treating someone the way that you would want to be treated.

I get the feeling that most people just don’t realize that so much damage is done to others and themselves when they choose not to tame their tongues. This is just another reminder for me that the world has a completely different thinking that God has. This is clearly one of those cases. While the vast majority of the world has a mindset that they will not put a filter on their mouths, God makes it clear that those who are wise do just that. Let’s take a look at what God and his word says about how we should and shouldn’t be using our words:

Proverbs 11:9 Those who are Godless destroy their neighbors with their mouths.

Proverbs 11:12 Those who have understanding hold their tongues.

Proverbs 12:18 Healing comes from the mouths of those who are wise.

Proverbs 15:4 Perverse tongues crush the spirits of others.

Proverbs 17:20 Those who have perverse tongues fall into trouble.

Proverbs 17:28 Even a fool is considered wise if he holds his tongue.

Proverbs 18:7 The mouths of fools are their undoing.

Proverbs 18:21 The tongue holds the power of life and death.

Proverbs 21:23 Those who guard their mouths & tongues keep themselves from calamity.

Proverbs 25:15 A gentle tongue is powerful enough to break a bone.

Ephesians 4:29 Only what is helpful and useful for building up others should come out of our mouths.

James 1:26 Those who consider themselves religious but don’t control their tongues deceive themselves and degrade their faith.

James 3:3-8 The tongue is difficult to tame and can be very destructive.

I know some, even after reading this, may still choose not to take this matter seriously, brushing it off as just a difference of opinion. However, we must consider how serious of a matter it is to God. If our creator sees this as a serious matter, that is more than good enough of a reason for us to do so as well. I can still hear many thinking to themselves, “It’s my mouth and I’ll say what I want.” This is true, but as displayed above, improper use of one’s mouth can and will lead to serious consequences.

America: The land of Entitlement

The United States of America: known as “The land of Opportunity.”

Our beloved country earned this reputation from the fact that countless immigrants from other nations have moved here for the chance at a better life. They moved from countries where there were not many opportunities to improve their way of living. Here in America, it is believed that no matter who you are or where you come from, you can make for yourself whatever kind of life you want, get whatever you want, live wherever you want, as long as you work hard enough for it.

Did I just say, “work hard”? Wow, good ol' hard work. Such a noble concept, but also such a foreign one nowadays. I have to wonder, where did all the hard workers go? Where did highly motivated go-getters go? I ask this because from what I’ve seen, our country’s alias has changed from “The Land of Opportunity” to “The Land of Entitlement.” Our modern American society seems to have what is called an Entitlement Complex. People feel that certain things are owed to them; that they deserve them. Maybe it’s because of our own Bill of Rights and Constitution that has convinced us that we have certain “rights” (not that I’m against having rights at all, but work with me here). Maybe it’s because a large portion of the advertising, marketing and media that we see is all geared towards convincing us that we “deserve” to have the newest and the best. Or maybe we’ve just become so spoiled by our society’s high standards that we think that certain things in our lives are just supposed to be automatic, and that there is something horribly wrong with the world if we don’t have what we’ve convinced ourselves we deserve. We no longer deserve things because we worked hard for them, we deserve them simply because we are Americans.

The words “entitlement” and “deserve” are fast becoming some of my least favorite. I’ve even seen the word “entitlement” used as a more positive-sounding label for welfare programs. I’m not saying that there aren’t people who legitimately need welfare, but to refer to welfare programs as “entitlement” gives the impression that people have a right to live and eat comfortably (relatively comfortable, considering the rest of the world’s standards as well) even if they aren’t making an effort to actually work for their lifestyle. I hear the word “deserve” thrown around way too much. “I deserve the best.” “I deserve more.” “You don’t deserve my time.” When I hear people say these things, whether they mean it that way or not, I can’t help but to hear arrogance. I mean, really, what makes you think you deserve something? Why do you deserve this thing or that thing? Why doesn’t someone deserve your time? Who are you and what have you done to be able to make such a claim? If you’ve really done something to be able to say such things, amen to that. You actually have a legitimate reason. But you do not deserve something just off the simple fact that you are able to make up in your mind that it is so. Americans specifically, but we as people in general would do well to get a sober, realistic judgment of what we really deserve, which isn’t much.

When you realize that you’re not really owed much of anything in this life, it helps you to be grateful for what you have. I’ve often said that having a sense of entitlement is like kryptonite to gratitude. When you feel as if you are owed or deserve to have something, it is nearly impossible to be grateful for it. You don’t have anywhere near the same appreciation for something that is simply handed to you that you do for something that you earned or worked hard for. An earned possession or privilege is worth more to you, and you are at least somewhat more justified in making a fuss about it if someone takes it from you or you otherwise lose it. Things that are just given to you routinely, not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I get just as upset when I don’t get something I want as the next person does, and understandably so, but some people will cause just as much or more chaos over losing something that they did not earn as they do for something that they did, and that is a serious problem.

I mentioned gratitude earlier and how feeling entitled keeps you from displaying it. When you feel that something is just automatically supposed to happen or you have a pre-determined expectation of something, it prevents you from showing appreciation for it. For example, I was reading an article written by one of my favorite relationship bloggers on twitter, @TheDatingTruth. In said article, the author expressed feeling that some women don’t know how to be grateful (Before any of y’all go jump off the deep end with that, I am only using this as an example. My point is not aimed at women.). She explains to her readers that a little bit of appreciation and gratitude towards a man goes a long way. She then addresses the fact that many women will hear this and think “Well, why should I thank him for something he’s supposed to do?” Regardless of gender, that type of attitude reeks of narcissism to me. First of all, just that fact that a person would already have in their minds that anything someone does is something that they’re “supposed” to do anyway is a bit arrogant, to say the least. Second, why not thank someone for doing something? Even if said person is doing something that they’re just supposed to do, even if it is their job and they get paid to do it, what’s wrong with saying a simple “thank you?” Those two words take little to no effort to say. Think about it: if you did something for someone, regardless if you did it on your own accord or if you were told to do it, or even if it’s in your job description, don’t you feel at lest the slightest bit better when someone smiles and says “thank you?” You’d think people would apply the golden rule here, but sadly, I would not be surprised if at least one person reading this actually has to Google “The Golden Rule” to figure out what it means. Anyway, my point here is that showing gratitude is not very difficult at all, if you have the correct mindset for it. In my humble opinion, if you have a problem with showing gratitude, if you find it beneath you to say thank you to someone just because they were doing their job or otherwise doing something they were “supposed to do”, you have some serious issues and you could stand to cancel your subscriptions to them.

All I’m really saying is, we all need to take a step back and think about how much we really do (or don’t) deserve. Having a sober judgment about this will give you a better perspective on life and make life just a little more pleasant for those around you as well. And lastly, remember that the words “please” and “thank you” are so very easy to say and mean more to people than you think. Alright, say them with me now: “please” and “thank you.” See? It wasn't that hard now, was it?

High Off Compliments

American writer Mark Twain once said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” I can definitely relate to that. While most who know me well would be correct in telling you that physical touch is my primary love language, words of affirmation is a very close second. It’s not that I need to be showered with compliments or told how great I am or anything. Far from that, actually. I spent years of my life being very insecure and self conscious; a result of getting picked on a lot in elementary and middle school (getting to the root of things helps tremendously). To a large degree, I’ve grown out of it; to a lesser, I’ve learned to hide it very well. I say all of this to say that when it comes to compliments, I don’t need you to massage my ego per se, I just need to be reminded every once in a while that I don’t suck.

I think that this is also the reason why I make the effort to compliment people when given the opportunity. It’s not my intent to butter up or flatter anyone. I may sound like a flatterer or a flirt when I give compliments, but I take care to never say something that I don’t wholeheartedly believe is true. I give people compliments, not just because it comes natural to me since that’s how I prefer to be loved, but because I’ve realized that thinking highly of someone doesn’t do much good if the person being thought highly of never knows about it. I can imagine someone being very good at what they do, but walking around thinking that he or she is only adequate or worse at it because no one ever took the time to say it. You just never know what a well-timed compliment can do for someone. You may brighten up someone’s day when she’s been having a Monday of Mondays. You could end up affirming the progress that someone has made when he’s been working hard to kick a bad habit. A genuine compliment or vote of confidence may just be all a person needs to get through a terrible day or to turn a situation around.

As I mentioned earlier, compliments affect me in a positive way because even though I’ve made tremendous strides in being more confident and less self-conscious, I still do need the occasional reminder that I’m “ok.” I especially love compliments on my dancing and teaching, as such is my passion. Again, not that I need to be told that I’m great, but more so that I like to know that I’m still doing something right; that I’m still moving in the right direction. Compliments in this area are more or less like taking inventory for me; a way for me to know that I’m still progressing as a dancer, or that I’m still being effective, personable and relatable as an instructor.

Speaking of dancing, there’s a thread on salsaforums.com (I go by the handle “Rugkutta”) called “Best Compliments Ever.” My fellow SFers and I go there to post various compliments that we’ve received on our dancing. Every once in a while I go through and re-read all my old posts in this thread just to see my progress as a dancer (and, I admit, to get a little ego boost). I’ve posted more than this, but here are the compliments that I’ve received that stood out to me. And yes, it’s my blog and I’ll brag if I want to ;-)

After a dance with world-famous salsa instructor Edie “The Salsa FREAK” Lewis:

"You have such a BEAUTIFUL lead! SMOOTH* like BUTTER!!!"

*She had no idea that I already had a "Smoove" nickname. ;-)

After a salsa dance:

"You have a unique style all your own! I could never fall asleep dancing with you!"

During an invitation to dance:

Me: Would you like to dance?

Salsera: Yeah, but not this one.

Me: Ok.

S: When I dance w/ anybody else in here, I'm good. But with you? .....

Me: (Humorously trying to sound offended) Oh, so whatchu tryin' to say?

S: You're intimidating.

Me: (In jest) Yeah, I do have that affect on ladies sometimes ;-)

Me: (Seriously) How so?

S: Your style, your posture...

(I had been working on my posture for the better part of that year, so it meant a lot to me to hear that.)

During a Facebook chat about salsa:

"You found yourself in (salsa). And it fits your body well! It looks beautiful on you!!!"

Another Facebook chat:

"You had a ‘balanced’ energy about you when you danced with me. You know how some people take themselves much too seriously when they are dancing with you? You are a mix of playful and skilled."

From an older, lovely latina lady I danced with:

"You're WAY too sexy for this. They shouldn't have let you in!"

A reply to a Facebook wall post where I thanked her for a dance the previous weekend:

"Papa, your bachata was like manjar. Thank you."

Asking a lady to dance a 2nd bachata in the same night:

Me: You don't mind a rematch, do you?
Her: No, not with YOU

After a bachata dance:

"Thank you for not doing the same old boring '1-2-3, 5-6-7' when you bachata."

A Facebook wall post from an out of town friend, after I met and danced with a mutual friend:

"We kept talking how lovely you are (as a dancer as well) for like 10 minute and made other gentlemen on the dinner table super jealous"