PILLOW TALK

2012-01-04T12:40:00.000-08:00

Dr. Camille Gray has packed

her quill and parchment and moved to WordPress!

Please continue to enjoy

"Pillow Talk"

http://cammyslanding.wordpress.com/.

AND...

***Stay tuned for a new addition to her blog family:

"The Lotus Note"

In this blog, Dr. Gray continues to inspire

from a deeper, more sensual perspective.

Selah.

On Finding Real Love

2011-12-28T11:13:00.000-08:00

“I'm looking for love. Real love.

Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming,

can't-live-without-each-other love…”

(Carrie Bradshaw; "Sex in the City", HBO)

I watched “Sex in the City” every Sunday night during its run on HBO only to have this timely and poignant line escape me until recently. To analyze the psychology behind this quote flying over my head with the thrust and turbulence of a 757 accomplishes precious little. The quote stands before me now, awaiting both my acknowledgement and call to action.

2011 will go down as the year that I tried to find, define, shape and compartmentalize “love”. Thanks to the objectivist’s musings of Ayn Rand, I have a definition of love that satisfies my intellect. Offerings from Eckhart Tolle and Dr. Wayne Dyer, helped me to see the roles, past and present that I play in the successes and failures of what is considered a game by many; an idea in which conceptually I take quite seriously.

As a new year begins, I move forward, having arrived at two important realizations:

1) “Love”, like the Creator, is not lost; it is and lives in infinity. It is ever-present and requires no pursuit or discovery;

2) As an offspring of the Universe, I am the “Love” that I seek: I am the love of my life.

Within this heightened level of consciousness, my challenge is to truly be the “Love” which is the core of my essence; my spiritual DNA, if you will; an undertaking that requires an awareness that is easily lost in a world gripped by fear, careless perception and its own agendas, intended and otherwise.

This occasion of continuance finds me better than I once was and promises that I am all that the Universe intends me to be.

I am all that I ever wanted; Love…real love.

Selah,

Camille

The Sway of My Voice

2011-11-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

Over the past year I have given time and geography their liberty with certain matters of my heart. Both have served me well. The doubt and skepticism that once anchored my being have given way to a fresh perspective and a determination not to allow the past to have any more power than I have already surrendered. In fact, the past and the persons who once occupied that space of former time hold no power whatsoever.

Neither magic nor volition unraveled the defensive web that once spun around my heart. On the contrary, it is what I like to refer to as “my quiet cooperation with the Universe” that charts my present course; illuminating a pathway which promises me the gift of my deepest desires; to love and to be loved in the manner in which I am most deserving.

This time last year I was negotiating with the Creator with my lists, prayers and affirmations. Not anymore. I have learned the power of a simple whisper into the ear of the Universe, the value of waiting in confident silence; moving in an abundance of confidence; and watching with eternal gratitude the manifestation of my desires.

My constant challenge is to make certain that the desires of my heart are constantly aligned with the sway of my voice. It should be your challenge as well; so that when you tell the Universe that you want love and wealth, abhorrence and poverty are not inadvertently invited in; when you request health and creativity, your voice does not mistakenly petition illness and lack of originality; and when vision and intellect require consideration; your life is not contradicted by the imprudent visor of thoughtless expression.

Later this month, I will close the door on my 47^th year of existence and open the door to the 48^th. I will enter another year with immeasurable gratitude and fully aware of the range and sway of my own voice. It will be a great 48; filled with the promise of love and prosperity; inspiration and well-being; as well as revelation and understanding. Because I say so.

Selah.

Camille

Passion Speak

2011-10-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

I fear that “passion” may one day be reduced to a common emotion, much the same way that “love” has been in some instances relegated to a place absent of its most mystical meaning.

People describe their “passion” for one thing or another, as a matter of routine these days; as if having an emblazoned desire for their purpose is the latest fad.

Most disheartening, I think, is that most of the talk about passion is just talk. Whether on my daily trek to my office or in casual conversation, people are talking, and very few are taking action. The excuses for not acting on ideas, utilizing talents or maximizing opportunities laying in wait are compelling, mundane and many times without sufficient merit.

My decision to follow my passions (writing and teaching) was thoughtful, enthused and tenacious. But most important, it was absolutely necessary. I am responsible for my happiness, and I owe the Creator the recompense of my talent, creativity and intellect. Every sentence that I fashion; every poem that I compose; and every book that is realized by my hand is an offering. It is my honor to present them to the audience of Universe.

I am hopeful for the “passion of passion”; that its meaning and truth are never bent beyond recognition. I promise to do my part to retain passion’s mystery; and to let love have its way; to not be complicit in their demise in my world. I invite you to do the same.

Selah,

Camille

Many thanks…Reflecting on the “Bearing Witness” Book Launch Party

2011-10-05T12:16:00.000-07:00

It has been almost two weeks since the launch of my latest book and the memory of an absolutely wonderful evening still lingers. I am so thankful to all of you who attended the book launch party and to those who assisted me in the days leading up to the event.

The evening was the elegant and intimate celebration that I envisioned. I was able to share my passion with friends and strangers, many of whom shared theirs in return. I have learned so much about myself and others; namely that being grateful sends a call out into the universe to usher a larger measure of prosperity into your life. I have prospered in all of the ways that matter in this life, and I remain committed to helping those who wish to find their passion and purpose; their peace and prosperity.

The days since the book launch find me scheduling appearances and writing classes, tracking sales, managing distribution, staying connected to friends and family and most important, finding time to write. I cannot rest on the laurels of this book; it is time to write the next one.

There are presently two books in the works; one based on this blog and another that finds its heroine dealing with “the Church”. I will discuss the process of completing each of these offerings as time goes on.

In the meantime, I ask the universe to allow each of you to see your passion clearly. May you garner the courage necessary to bring your passion to fruition; for the universe can give you the vision, but you must give the vision its wings.

As you wait for clarity, be Thankful. When clarity arrives, be thankful; grateful in times of bright light and in ink-black darkness. Resolve to be grateful within the simplicity of “being”. Stay in your “now”: the past is over and the future will take care of itself. It is in the “right now” that your purpose and passion have their say…listen, and say “thank you”…always.

Selah,

Camille

To order "Bearing Witness", please visit:

https://www.createspace.com/3644992

Change of Season

2011-09-18T11:52:00.000-07:00

On Friday, September 23^rd, friends, family, acquaintances and fans will join me to celebrate the launch of my seventh book, “Bearing Witness”. This poetry collection is my most important undertaking to date. It is my best offering; the one in which I am most proud. The combination of previous published poems and the musings that have shaped the past year are a loving and detailed map of my life’s journey.

It is no accident that the date of this book launch is the same day as the Fall Equinox. Just as nature cools down from the scorch of summer and prepares the meadows and foliage for winter’s cold affection, I too am preparing to don my own cloak of cool change; looking forward to the color and growth of next spring.

In addition to book signings, speaking engagements, and my occasional classroom appearances, Fall will find my writing transitioning from poetry to prose. The novel that has begged for my attention for the last three years will finally have its way; as will my unnamed essay collection; and the fifty or so books that are on my “must-read-by-the-end-of-the-year” list. The season will also find me in total surrender to “love”; its honor and challenge, its innocence and clarity.

I remain grateful for my journey and the companionship, support and affection of friends, fans and, yes, the words that continue to accompany me; I celebrate them often, both in public and in private.

Selah,

Camille

*For additional information about the “Bearing Witness” book launch party, please send a message via the following link: http://cammyslanding.yolasite.com/contact-cammyslanding.php.

“Gaslighting”: Are You Fanning the Flame?

2011-09-02T13:25:00.000-07:00

In her book entitled, “The Gaslight Effect” (Crown Archetype, 2007), Dr. Robin Stern describes “gaslighting”, an unfortunate emotionally debilitating phenomenon that occurs in relationships where a strong, intelligent person is undermined by the insecurities of another. The tendency manifests as a person of low self-esteem seeks to undermine the confidence of another in an effort to bring stability to their own instability. It appears in personal and professional relationships without regard for race, class or gender. Dr. Stern first observed and identified this exploit as typically occurring among women in their romantic and business relationships.

As you turn the pages of this very enlightening psychological read, it is easy to identify with the anecdotes of the “Gaslightee”; the victims of the “Gaslighter”. We remember our own experiences with lovers, family members and workplace acquaintances: seeds of pathological and narcissistic manipulation sown in the gardens of a once healthy mind; or compliments peppered with “constructive criticism” spoken softly over a toothy passive aggressive smile. Spend enough time reminiscing and you will eventually find yourself wearing the cloak of victimization, which I vigorously discourage.

Psychology has an array of programs and pills for victims of emotional abuse. For all of the attention that is given to those singed by the flames of another’s insecurity, I wonder how many people are brave enough to admit to having been the “Gaslighter” at some point in their lives. To admit that in the heat of relationship or workplace battles and because of a measure of perceived inner insufficiency, you took deliberate aim at the psyche -- the heart and soul of another human being in order to simply have your way. Admit it, and take steps to refrain from this and all other acts of emotional terrorism.

The “Gaslighter” constructs a prison in the mind of their so-called beloved. Most people forget that the jailer is always confined with the inmates. The Gaslighter can only do what is permitted by his victim. As long as there is someone bowing to his mental exorcism, he will have regular work and fresh prey; hurting people hurt people. Without his well-chosen prey, then and only then is he forced to face himself…or perish.

If you read Dr. Stern’s book, I challenge you to do so without assuming that just because you recognize yourself in a scenario or two, or find yourself in disbelief with regard to your answers to the questionnaire in chapter one, that you must immediately seek professional help because yet another author, survey or manuscript has branded you as a victim. Rather, reflect on the text with brutal honesty, admitting to and finding a remedy to your own prior bad acts.

Endeavor to extinguish the flames fanned by irrational emotion and perpetual self-doubt. Each of us is responsible for self-reflection and appropriate course correction to ensure we live in a manner that is wholly pleasing, purposeful and prosperous.

Selah,

Camille

You can read an excerpt from “The Gaslight Effect” by clicking on the link below.

http://www.enotalone.com/article/16907.html

Light as a Feather

2011-08-30T11:17:00.000-07:00

The morning walk to my office is festooned with the eclectic leftovers of the previous night: homeless men and women still sleeping; booted and ticketed automobiles waiting on owners or tow trucks; bicycled, segwayed and equestrian members of local law enforcement; a muddle of condom wrappers, lost lingerie, and containers that once held assorted spirits. Among these trappings I routinely come across an array of feathers, mostly from the pigeons that boldly walk these downtown streets competing with human hunger for sustenance.

Their charming, morning-grey plumes are castoffs of biological necessity. That the separation from their avian proprietor carries the pain of amputation, lightens the load required for flight or goes completely unnoticed is a mystery to me. But as I bend to add a captivating quill or two to my bookmark collection, I remember those things that I have discarded or abandoned: by accident or necessity; excruciatingly or without a fight; fully aware or otherwise. And I wonder if there are spectators, whether gauche or enthused, stooping to retrieve whatever I may have left behind.

I have relinquished unsubstantiated judgment and abject suspicion for the serenity of “it is what it is”. This keeps me out of nests of anxiety constructed by impractical acts that are based on raw emotion.

I am working to relegate emotion to her proper place in my psyche, particularly as it relates to matters involving the opposite sex. I am no longer easily riled or surprised by the relationship components of human interaction.

I am resigned to the inconsequence of the opinions of others. It has been said that “what people think of you is none of your business”; there is peace in this assertion.

I understand that Love is my choice; and a reflection of what I think of myself. I will love in the language required and reciprocity is non-negotiable: I insist on being loved in the manner I require.

I know that I own my self-esteem and self-preservation. No one can or should be responsible for my happiness; it is my sole responsibility. I must be selfish enough to fashion my own contentment and pleasure.

I have learned to reject and return compartmentalization. I do not answer to or live in the expectations of traditional or stereotypical assignment. If anyone attempts to label me, I am swift to peel and remove the layers of false identification, placing them squarely back into the hands or at the feet of the accuser.

I am joyful! Joy…Full! Whether enjoying the calm before a storm, or dancing around the winds of temporary adversity, I choose to remember and celebrate the things for which I am truly grateful; people and possessions too numerous and personal to record at the present.

As you move in cooperation with the creator and this great universe, welcome the manifest shedding of your “plumage” and rejoice in the fruition of renewed productivity and prosperity, and improved mental and spiritual well-being.

Selah,

Camille

The Living Proof: Reflecting on “The Help”

2011-08-17T09:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I attended an afternoon viewing of “The Help”, the story of “Skeeter”, “Aibileen” and “Minnie”, based on the novel by Kathryn Stockett. The movie is a slow, soft glimpse into the relationships between white women and their black maids on the eve of the civil rights movement in the American south. Although necessarily entertaining, the movie’s soft pitch did very little to inform my sensibilities regarding this seemingly perpetual period of American history. However, my personal past has been summoned to reflect; and it is with tears, laughter and a light touch of embarrassment that I reminisce and celebrate the beginning and middle of my own journey.

I celebrate the influence of Cicely Tyson, a great woman, on and off the stage. She plays “Constance”, the maid who raised “Skeeter”. Constance is the energy that propels “Skeeter” toward a life independent of societal expectations. In 1988, Ms. Tyson gave a speech at the University of South Carolina that spoke to the depths of my soul, confirming that my path would be substantially different than that of my classmates. She told the story of her mother encouraging her to attend secretarial school. Much to her mother’s disappointment, Tyson realized, as she faced the typewriter for the first time, that she would be no one’s secretary. She was passionate about performing, which competed with and lost to her Pentecostal-Holiness familial influence and the security associated with having a “good job”. From that moment forward I was unapologetic about my major and my calling. My only uncertainty was the manner in which I would make a living within the profession of my purpose.

I am remembering the dressing down my mother gave my best friend and I when our college arrogance became too much for her to bear. Forgetting that Mother could clearly hear every kitchen conversation from her bedroom vent, my friend and I engaged in a rather haughty conversation about another friend of ours who was a collector of “pick-a-ninny” dolls, insisting that we would have never been a servant; much less own a doll that reminded us of such an indignity. My mother swooped down the hallway from her bedroom, into our coven of laughter and sprite condescension, and told us about ourselves; that we were spoiled and unappreciative; that if it weren’t for those maids, “your uppity black asses would not be here right now, sitting in my kitchen like you own the damn world”. We parted our lips to argue with her, and thinking better of it, knowing that in arguing we were subject to a future that would include dentures, we bowed to my mother’s wisdom and anger.

In the final dialogue between the women, “Skeeter” is reluctant to leave “Aibileen” and “Minnie” in the chaos that her book has created and as the influence of civil rights movement reaches their town. The women whose stories gave “Skeeter” a voice, personal power and gainful employment meet her protest with a loving rebuke and a gentle nudge toward her place in the future: “Step into your own life”, says “Minnie”. I whispered to myself, “Yes, ma’am”.

In the closing scene, Aibileen is found in tears walking (not running) away from a venom that only love and forgiveness can heal. She too walks into her future. The credits roll in concert with her stride and to the tune, “The Living Proof” by Mary J. Blige. It is in this background that my movie companion points to the screen and says, “I expect to see your name on movie credits one day”. I was moved beyond words, and fought to keep my tears at bay. In that moment I was reminded of every one of my supporters, my vocal allies and silent partners who love me; who are cheering and praying for me as I step into my own life. My love and thanks will never be enough, but I offer them nonetheless.

“…my best days are right in front of me,

and I am almost there ‘cuz now I am free…”

(Mary J. Blige, “The Living Proof”)

Selah,

Camille

Vocal Exercise

2011-08-15T18:51:00.000-07:00

To paraphrase, philosopher and novelist Ayn Rand explains her passion for writing in terms of her desire to convince the ordinary reader that men are inherently good, especially when they are allowed the space and luxury to be good. I wish my aspirations were as noble.

I write when in fact I’d rather be singing. I write with a passion that is lost on the timidity of my vocal chords. I sing softly; but I write with a great deal of volume. And, I am less concerned with judgment when pen and paper are my voice.

My relationship with the song within me has been tumultuous at best; deeply influenced by the perception and opinion of others. So much so that, in the 9^th grade, under the influence of a music teacher whose expertise I valued and respected, I gave up on the power of my own voice for the first of many times. In the more than thirty years since, my voice guilts me into the occasional performance, allows me a few accolades for my cooperation, only to experience my swift desertion from the gift and talent of which I am quite aware.

Despite my inward battles to give music its proper place in my life, it has been a faithful companion, most times waiting patiently for me to meet it in the necessary corners of my life. And I miss singing more and more each day. As I explained to a friend recently, nothing or no one that comes in and out of your life the way music revolves in and out of mine is arbitrary; and at some point those persons or things must be invited into your life…to stay.

My challenge now is to make room for my song and give it a reliable place in my existence. I’ll keep you posted.

Selah,

Camille

Excess Change

2011-08-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

I have always assumed that people and relationships were subject to change. However, until now I have never considered the consequences of “too much” change. It begs the question, “just how much change can a relationship endure before the relationship is no longer recognizable? Is there an expectation to maintain all of the attributes that formed an initial connection?

A few years ago, a friend chastised me for following up my geographical change with a physical one: I cut my hair. It was a necessary shearing; a decision I made without relationship obligation or consultation. In his rebuke of my altering my “covering”, he believed that I had also altered the conditions of our relationship. That in cutting my hair, I had deeply maimed him as well.

“Men like for things to stay the same”, he said. “When I met you, you had a head full of hair. That’s the woman I loved. I don’t know this short-haired woman.”

I recall this story in context with many stories I’ve heard about relationships ending because one or both parties had changed, so much so that whatever the transformation, the relationship could not bear the weight of much variation.

Among people who confess to relationship losses on account of change (haircuts, weight loss, spiritual revelation, etc), most admit to factors which lay beneath the surface of the subsequential separations. And I would complement their assertion with the question, “did the person really change or did they simply finally morph into their authentic self?”

My haircut was the necessary liberation from an imposter that I had identified and introduced to the world as the “real me”. I met and welcomed “Camille” that day. And “Camille” was the only person on my mind when I sat in my stylist’s chair. It never occurred to me that a personal change would be taken so personally.

Thankfully, my friend has forgiven me for my “mane indiscretion”. But I often wonder how much personal change I can impose upon my relationships before someone stands in protests or chooses to sever our ties in the same manner in which I was accused of severing my hair.

To be certain, I will not be a hostage to the consequences of change; I am resolved to let everything “be”. It is my hope that any losses that I suffer as a result of any change that I deem necessary are minimal. Any pasting that may occur must be viewed through the lens of enlightenment, in that the comings and goings of people in my life must be regarded as the wise work of the Universe.

Selah,

Camille

A Deserving Inventory: Reclaiming Worthiness

2011-08-08T21:01:00.000-07:00

I am a firm believer that every occupant of the planet deserves the very best that this life has to offer. Yet more often than not, I meet people who paint their worthiness with a broad brush of self-effacement, relegating their desire for love and prosperity to words spoken in abject sarcasm.

What gives you the right to assume that your Creator predestined you for something less than the best? Who are you to deny yourself a preeminent place in your own life, consigning yourself to misplaced insufficiency and humility? Who told you that you were, “not enough”?

I have found that anyone who suffers from even the slightest of esteem issues can trace their journey towards internal paucity to a moment in the early years of their development when they experienced the imposition of personal scarcity; when they were either told, or led to believe (or both) that they were simply, “not enough”.

Deprogramming the intrusion of a poor self image is one of many plotted points on the map of enlightenment. It is a necessary transfer of personal power in which the aggregate is emotional emancipation, cerebral clarity and the ability to charts one’s place and purpose in this life.

Affirmations of optimism must be appropriated to your psycho-social and spiritual inventories. Your internal dialogue must prevail upon all of the past channels of negative internal communication, providing the appropriate exchange for all of the insufficiency ever spoken to and over your being.

It begins and ends with staring down the voice of “not enough”; rewriting a life script that becomes the “aide memoire”; a constant reminder that you are worthy of love and prosperity and any other good to which you aspire. It also requires treating yourself better than you ever thought deserving or appropriate; the opinion of the rest of world be damned.

Selah,

Camille

Crossroads

2011-08-04T11:11:00.000-07:00

“For the enlightened mind, the end celebrates a beginning.”

—Camille Gray, Ph.D.

I have fallen asleep the past few nights thinking of my closest friends, all of whom, to varying degrees, are experiencing the temporary discomfort of having to make life-changing decisions.

At this juncture and to my dismay, I am but a concerned onlooker in the pied-à-terre of their lives, relegated to be present for and with them without the ability to offer much more than my open heart, my love and a listening ear. It is within the veracity of this helplessness that I feel compelled to examine the place and purpose of my presence in the lives of my most precious company.

This is a largely counterintuitive undertaking. As a student of enlightenment, I am remiss in my efforts to make sense out of what simply “is”. As a mere mortal, however, I am preoccupied with the realities of cause and effect, and how “what is” affects me. To wit, my ego is winking; trying to coax me into a level of self-preservation, cleverly disguised as a “need to know”. It is tempting me into a fear of an uncertain future. It is a reckoning in which I intend to meet straight on.

This requires that I give my time and attention to making sure that I remain at the top of my own “to do” list; that I remain present in my own life, proactively and courageously attuned to the happy and whole life to which I aspire and deserve. It means that I care enough about myself and others to refrain from unwittingly assuming responsibility for pursuits of happiness other than my own.

My sense is that some alliances will fall by the wayside on the crossroads of mutual decision-making; some sooner than others. Rather than allow the disappointment of that reality its desired power, I choose to appreciate it.

In doing so, I am free from the perception of time as an obligation; no longer compelled to remain in a place because of an unfortunate contract with a calendar or a watch. I am liberated to join the celebration of transformation, without the egotistical mourning associated with holding on to what must necessarily change.

Regardless of the span, circumstance or outcome, I believe that there is mutual purpose in the movement and appearance of every person in our lives. The purpose may not be readily apparent; but the place is constant confirmation.

Selah!

Camille

“Pillow Talk” is moving to WordPress.com.

Stay tuned for details.

Self Matters: An Invitation to Join My Own Life

2011-07-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

In “Self Matters” (Free Press, 2001), Dr. Phil McGraw asks readers to identify the five most pivotal people in their life; people, who for better or worse, played a major role in their decisions and direction. Simply enough…or so I thought.

There are three things that I find difficult to resist: bubble gum machines, divination tools (horoscopes, etc), and the self-help tests found in most women’s magazines. To be sure, the attraction is strictly for entertainment purposes, however, every once in a while I am struck by the glimmer of hope or truth provided by the tools of my leisure: I believe that I have found favor with the gods of confection when I offer my quarter to a bubble gum machine and it rewards me with a bright yellow gum ball; I find delight in the occasional accuracy of my daily horoscope; and I am relieved when my serious answers to trivial questions prove me to be slightly above the fray of other magazine subscribers.

Imagine my surprise upon realizing that I had “failed” Dr. Phil’s very simple examination.

With pen and paper in hand I listed my “Fab 5”:

*My Mother: very few of us would dare to attempt this type of cerebral inventory without including our mothers. I wrote down her name remembering every recital, softball game, hospital visit, and award ceremony that found her present and accounted for when no one else was willing or able to be;

*My Father: his inclusion on my list muddles my emotions, but the truth is that he is responsible for a number of the “pivots” in my life both good and bad;

*My Son: since his conception, he has been the insurance and assurance that keep me from throwing in the towel. I see his face when life captures me unaware; and his image is in full view when I am looking for evidence of success in the mirror that is my life;

*J.P.: my first corporate mentor. Polished, professional and exceedingly demanding, she regularly placed me in positions outside of my comfort zone and, by providing necessary boundaries and creative latitude, helped me to soar; and

*M.D (b.1953-d.2009): “Mr. D” and I became best friends a year before we ever met in person. He was the first to help me recognize that I wanted my PhD. and a writing career more than corporate success. He also showed me all that was equitable, respectful and loving among true friends.

Sufficiently proud of my record of personal influence, I turned the page of my assignment to receive my perfect score for my noble exercise. My score was not perfect, however. In grading my own work, Dr. Phil compelled the obvious reason for my failing grade: I had excluded my own influence from my own life; my name was not on my own list:

“Your self concept has been molded by others. You attribute your most basic, core characteristics to the actions and behaviors of others. For better or worse, you have yielded your power and entrusted it to someone else”. (McGraw, 2001)

Not being accustomed to failing a test, I was stunned and disappointed to realize that, despite my best efforts toward the contrary; I was leaving myself out of my own life, and hiding behind a veil of well-rehearsed albeit, imaginary resolve and autonomy.

This was an arduous, but redeemable truth.

I have since issued and responded to the invitation of inclusion in my own life. I have welcomed myself with open arms. My name is now the first inscribed on the parchment that is my life’s influence; not because it is the “right answer”, but because I am the necessary inspiration, impact, excitement and expectation of my existence.

The honor of my presence is requested…and required.

Selah,

Camille

Bearing Witness: One Voice in Time

2011-07-25T12:14:00.000-07:00

“I love to write! Words are my constant and faithful companion.”

-Camille Gray, PhD

I have just completed the last of the changes required for the release of my latest poetry collection entitled, “Bearing Witness”. That it has been a labor of love is an insufficient cliché; the labor is minimal while the love is infinite in each of my literary undertakings.

My sister once described the whimsical and piercing anthems of her infant son as his “testing the range of his voice”. “Bearing Witness” is an anthology of my own vocal development; a chronological testimony in verse as to how the art and my craft utterly and wholly changed my voice and my life.

Perhaps the most challenging element to preparing this collection was resisting the temptation to edit my previously published work.

After consulting with writers of varying genres and experience, I concluded that, except for the slightest of corrections, I should preserve the voice of my past. It was the purest voice for that moment; any change, no matter how noble the intention, would violate the authenticity of my own lyrical narrative.

To be certain, a few of the old poems were tough to read in the present; some made me blush; others reminded me of times that are happily and firmly behind me. Still more have positively reminded me that I have used the power of my pen for good.

“Bearing Witness” reflects four and a half (!) stages of my personal and writing progression. I am not the protagonist of every poem. I am, however, a witness to time and emotion in the global economy of the human experience.

The poems that make-up “Talking to Myself, are not punctuated; reflecting my once undeveloped, puerile voice. As dictated in many immature acts, I seemed more concerned with saying what I wanted to say with little regard for how I wanted to say it.

“Alive, but Unconscious”, was written during the time when Oprah issued an invitation and a challenge to women to live their best lives; that so many of us had been walking through our lives, hardly aware of ourselves and oblivious to any palatable reasoning for our largely predictable actions. These poems opened my eyes to perceptions of my own insufficiency and left me on the fringes of finally feeling and being “enough”.

By the time I completed “Pillow Talk”, I was in love with the sound, the range and the color of my own voice. More important, I was completely pleased and hopelessly in love with…me! Self awareness and appreciation is the honeymoon that never ends. I may not have known exactly what I wanted then, but I knew what I did not want, and that was half the battle.

“Dallas Rain” was written last fall during a few days of much welcomed beautiful, but frightening thunderstorms. Love touched me slightly during that time; evaporating and falling elsewhere almost as quickly as the rains visited upon and withdrew from my abode. Another love, newly defined and free of most ego-driven attachment (I am a work in progress) showers over me; it is a nourishing, steady stream; pooling me into a reflection of balance and awareness. It is a generous, unconditional muse.

“In the Alaskan Fog”, is my “present”. It is only as complete as each passing moment. These poems are my reward for living in the “Now”. As I let my life “be”, my poems…“become”. Poetry written in the moment summons every one of the senses to attention; and I endeavor to faithfully record all that touches, flavors, perfumes, glances and reverberates in this world.

“Bearing Witness” is my humble offering. I pray that I have been a gracious steward of my muse

…you know who you are.

Selah,

Camille

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Happiness by the Handstrap

2011-07-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

In his audio presentation, “Moving Your Life from Ambition to Meaning” (http://www.drwaynedyer.com/files/enews-thanks-gift.php), Dr. Wayne Dyer describes the human connection to the Creator as humanity traveling on a trolley (life), firmly holding onto the hand straps (the divine). This intimate connection ensures us that every stop, layover and companion along our journey are on purpose and on time.

Each day this concept becomes more meaningful to me. It is an instrument by which I am emancipated from the need to understand the entrances and exits of people over the course of my life; liberated from the need to understand the way things “ought to be”; and free from the speculation that accompanies the need to reconcile the unpleasantness of the people and circumstances of the past. It is a prelude to a personal declaration of independence; the pathway to the pursuit of genuine happiness and lifelong personal fulfillment.

Regrettably, it has taken some time for me to give myself permission to pursue my own happiness. I am fervently making up for lost time. To be clear, my pursuit is not a hedonistic rampage of unimaginable or unfortunate consequences. It is an adventure based on the understanding that my happiness is so much more than emotional idolatry or the chase of elusive, emotional highs that generally move faster than I do. On the contrary, I am genuinely satisfied with the realities and existential challenges presented to me each day.

Kurt Vonnegut (11/11/1922 to 04/11/2007) once said that, in general, people expend much more energy than necessary riding the massive waves of human emotion, rather than finding contentment in the balance of the middle ground. Through him, I am reminded that happiness is neither the opposite of sadness nor the sum total of one’s materialistic accumulation. Happiness is an often overlooked aspiration; properly measured in terms of realistic emotional expectation and in the pursuit of worthwhile goals and nurturing relationships.

The pursuit of happiness should never be a neglected or trivial undertaking. It is significantly more valuable than any routinely written and carelessly remitted paycheck of emotion. Happiness itself is the ornament of a prized end based on your connection to the Divine; not the embellished wrappings over the contents of a long list of things to do.

Hold on to the “straps” of the Divine as you meander the thoroughfare that is your life. Your happiness wholly depends on this profound and divine connection.

Selah,

Camille

Rising Sediment-Regarding Casey Anthony

2011-07-18T08:48:00.000-07:00

In nature, sediment is settled matter that rarely progresses beyond its appointed end. There are times, however, when lighter remnants of debris separate themselves from heavier particles and gather at the surface, littering the seemingly pristine contents in between.

A similar phenomenon manifests within the human spirit. Circumstances force carefully veiled and cleverly disguised attitudes out of the mind and onto the plane of revelation, where the truth meets self. It is at this juncture where each of us is called to examine our hearts; to measure the true weight and remaining limits of smug declarations of our capacities toward compassion for the loved and unloved (of which there should be no distinction).

In the early hours of a Sunday morning that found our nation still without solutions to our debt and employment crisis'; and good people awaking to all manner of misery, Casey Anthony legally walked out of an Orlando detention center into the collective arms of a community wounded by what has been perceived as a counterintuitive verdict by a jury of her peers. Self-identified “Christians” as well as other pundits, spiritual and otherwise, demonstrated with damning and obscene signs of their disappointment, some even stating that “god” gave them the orders for their profane behavior.

That Ms. Anthony has escaped punishment for whatever happened to her daughter is ultimately a matter for karma to adjudicate. It is best that we allow the universe its way in her life and concentrate on those things in our own lives that have the potential to make us unworthy of love and compassion. The abject hate directed at Ms. Casey has no place in the spiritual realm of our existence. Hate only serves to multiply a negative energy that is already exceedingly pervasive.

Where is the mercy and grace that invites Ms. Anthony to “change her wicked ways”? It is easy to speak of grace and mercy; to negotiate with the Creator for a measure of compassion necessary to cover our own wrong-doing. But recognition of the need for that measure of dispensation upon an individual we deem to be undeserving is lost in the hypocrisy of the human existence. And for that we should be ashamed.

The judicial system has settled with Ms. Anthony’s…legally, that is. Ms. Anthony and her family need and deserve an intervention of spiritual fruit particularly from those who profess a relationship with the divine.

There should be no pleasure taken in this family’s estrangement and dysfunction. The destructive energy propelled toward Ms. Anthony as she walked to freedom will have an uninterrupted reverberation to those who allow hate to have its way. Conversely, the power delivered by the light of compassion is a gift bestowed by the Creator that exponentially changes the giver and receiver; and makes the Creator recognizable to those navigating the sediment of their lives.

Selah,

Camille

Perception as Muse

2011-07-11T08:34:00.000-07:00

I am often inspired by the way in which people envision the world around them, particularly when they insist that their perception offers little in the way of inspiration for my pen.

For instance, I have a friend who works in the Alaskan tundra (he can actually see Russia from his house!). During a recent conversation, he described his surroundings in cool and barren terms. He mentioned a heavy fog that limited his view to just a few hundred feet ahead; enviable, cool temperatures; and that he stood among several dull, red buildings which flanked one lone green structure, unworthy of any further description.

My response was typical of a writer; I wanted to be there to compare and contrast his point of view to mine. He contended that his landscape would leave my pen dull and my paper bare. And just like that, I felt challenged to discover a revelation within my friend’s skepticism. A few hours later I presented to him, “Alaskan Fog”, my tribute to his austere vista.

Alaskan Fog (for Greg J.)

He works within the barren tones

of an unforgiving landscape;

insisting there is

no rhyme

no reason

for my pen and ink to make its mark

in this tundra of black gold--

I beg to differ.

His purpose grays his surroundings

and antiques nearby scarlet and jade structures nearby;

silver-linings are lost in low clouds

content to insulate fog’s influence

and obstruct farsightedness.

Yet,

in the midst of his existence,

constrained by distance and a gulf of Pacific mist,

he manages to keep me in full view.

For writers, perception is an undisputed means to harnessing the creative process. I find it especially useful to employ conjecture at times to record the movements of a particular individual in a crowd.

During a recent downtown outing, I noticed a young woman in distress standing on a railroad platform, seemingly waiting for the next train. I could not tell if she was waiting to board or waiting to jump. She left little distance in her face and in her posture to change her mind about her decision. I recognized the despair in her countenance; I have been its counselor and friend.

Perhaps it was a mother’s prayer that led this bystander to board the train with me; maybe it was the simple realization that all was in fact not lost or as bad as she perceived it to be. Perhaps it was both. She left the train two stops later without our exchanging so much as a glance. I continued on to my destination, composing this poem enroute:

Waiting

Melancholy hovers heavily as she waits for the next train:

The memory and demise of Virginia Wolfe and Sylvia Plath

encircle her space along with private demons thought long exorcised.

Don’t judge. You have yours too.

I watch and wonder:

Will she board --

joining the other unhappy travelers on a hapless adventure;

riding until her mind no longer

thinks

spins?

Or…

will she join her circle of mischievous spirits--

taking an impolite and well-heeled stride

into the path of her intended;

silencing

all spin

and

all thought?

So much of creative composition is an exercise into discovering the insight of others. Some of our noblest and innovative creations arrive when we give ourselves permission to be the inventors of and witnesses to fabricated perception, whose outcome gives our audience a clever, climatic and delightfully sensory literary experience.

Selah,

Camille

Do Not Call Me a Queen!

2011-07-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

"Someone claimed, rhetorically, that we are the only `true
queens of the universe.' I do not want to be a queen, because
queens are oppressive, but even so the thought came to me
that any true queen know the names, words, and actions of the
other queens of her lineage and is very sharp about her story." -- Alice Walker

Yesterday a stranger broke my personal space to pay what he thought was a compliment. He simply said, "You are a beautiful African queen". I probably should have thanked the stranger and reclaimed my sacred by moving along. The approach and words of a stranger nearly cost me a little of my power. The stranger was not the first to refer to me in this manner. It is not likely that he will be the last. But I need to get my reaction to what I’m sure is a well-intended, harmless compliment under control. At issue is the fact that I do not like my having my gender “colored” with hued adjectives. Until now, I have never taken the time to understand why. Here are a few thoughts on the matter.

Alice in Wonderland

I remember the day and the hour that I first read Alice Walker’s position on the title of “queen”. It was 1990. I had just entered graduate school. I had read every one of Walker’s books that were available at the time, and I called myself a “womanist”. What ever Alice did, I endeavored to do it better.

To that end I agreed with her every word, and reached the conclusion that there is not a queen in history who did not rule her “queendom” without history’s pen recording her dainty slippers weighing heavily on the necks of her subjects. I neither rule nor manage people; therefore do not call me a queen.

Note: Alice and I went our literary separate ways years later when she discovered she loved women, vegetables and the environment while I held tightly to men, my SUV and a hot, salty and rare Ribeye. But her edict regarding royalty remains as resonate as ever.

I was Born in Georgia!

Not in Africa! I spent my formidable years in another country, speaking another language. I speak English and German. I read Arabic, Hebrew and Sanskrit. The color of my skin is my only tangible connection to Africa and even that is an insufficient reason to call me out as a member of the continent’s royal family.

Not Everyone was a King!

There was necessarily a class of subjects. Revisionists of African-American history would have all persons of African descent as former kings and queens. This is simply impossible. I imagine that if Africa was at one time a continent made up entirely of royalty, then the “middle passage” would be a term for a car passing in the median rather than an idiom that marks some of the darkest days in American history.

Why Color the Obvious?

I felt that the coloring of the stranger’s compliment compartmentalized me and all women who look like me, leaving our beauty restricted to the confines of our shading. The stranger would have been better served by simply complimenting...ME. I have worked very hard ensuring that my life and my work are colorblind. I want my beauty held to the same standard.

I am a beautiful woman. Do not qualify my existence by my color.

And...

Do not call me a Queen!

Selah!

Camille

Detachment: Paving Enlightenment's Path

2011-07-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

I realize that the journey to where I am both personally and professionally has been a gentle coaxing into the realm of detachment. This is not to say that I have entered a sphere of not “giving a damn”. This is a mandate of surrender that calls on all souls navigating their road to enlightenment in order to reduce and ultimately eliminate our human tendencies toward hanging and clinging.

Whether an item, a person or a concept, spiritual illumination requires the serenity of surrender…to allow all of creation to simply “be”.

I would be remiss in leading anyone to believe that this is an easy undertaking; it is not. But as a witness to the process, I find that my choice to detach from the attention my ego demands has produced copious amounts of peace within me and without.

It is also important to understand that neither detachment nor surrender suggests that we are exorcized of all compassion. Quite the contrary. By our release of a thought, idea or person, compassion becomes a vivid display. It is an act that relieves the chokehold that is imposed upon your surroundings. You still care; and subsequently you make room for the type of love that is neither emotionally compelled nor ego driven. It is the manner of resolve to which we should aspire. If you are willing to view the process through the lens of salvation, you will understand this process as a gentle and naturally selective undertaking.

You must take great care, however, to avoid “re-attachment” once you perceive yourself to be a master of this spiritual experience. The euphoria of your newfound freedom may consume you. You will want to tell others; and you will want it for them more than they want it for themselves. Therein lay the trap. Your well-intentioned enlightenment proselytizing will relegate you to the original battle with your ego and all of its demands.

It is the act of detachment that has helped me to understand the place and purpose I have in the lives of certain people within my circle. While the act of surrender in certain relationships has been painful, Peace is faithful to greet me with her love and grace on the other side of any disappointment.

PerfectTiming

2011-06-28T18:17:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine recently issued an ultimatum to her boyfriend of three years; that he marry her or leave. Apparently the need for proof of commitment and the constant ticking of a biological clock are formidable adversaries on the path to enlightenment. By invoking a demand and a deadline she gave fear a personal invitation to wreak havoc in her life. And she, like many others, has fallen for a universally accepted ruse: that “timing is everything”.

This cliché has been allowed more influence on the human condition that it deserves. That we must make decisions based on the alignment of certain numerical variables litters the mind with the garbage of “should have” and “what if”, leaving no room for acknowledging, accepting and enjoying the present. The ego frustrates the present with lamentations over timing issues such as, “we should have met years ago”, “we should have never met”, or “why is this happening now?”

What my friend fails to realize is that her relationship “is” whatever it “is” going to be. In her constant tracking of relationship milestones against the advice provided by books, magazines and friends other than myself, she is missing love in its purest form…in her own here and now. Moving the hands on the relationship clock may create wedding buzz, soothe an insecurity or two, or even demonstrate that you are running the proverbial show, but this fight for the future robs us of the joy of the present. My friend is no longer present in the present; deadlines and demands created a disconnect. Her fears have scattered her sensibilities, directing her beyond her purpose to the perceived and unreliable safety of her imagination.

Time should never be a tool for plotting points on a relationship continuum. Its tendency is to highlight what is lacking, thereby allowing insecurity to set the stage for future manipulation. Neither should it be a weapon for coercion, lending itself to obligations that compel its victim to live a less than authentic life.

Enlightenment obligates our focus to the moment to which we are assigned. It is in the present; in the “right now”; that love resides and has its place of faithful promise. Unrequited, it is neither manipulated by fear or demand nor phased by time. It is purpose, perfected. It is perfect timing.

It's Hard Being a Man: One Woman's Response

2011-06-22T15:35:00.000-07:00

A fellow blogger, “That Teowanna” (http://networkedblogs.com/jx8xs) has written her reflections on T.D. Jakes’ recent comment, “…It’s hard being a man”. In her analysis of Jakes’ comments, she expresses her emphatic objections to his statement, landing softly on biblical and biological grounds. I very respectfully and lovingly disagree with her conclusions. With her gracious permission, I am offering the response which follows.

Before I go further, let me state for the record that I understand the vantage point of my friend and fellow blogger. And let me also make it very clear that I am neither a fan nor defender of T.D. Jakes. My intention here is to initiate a dialogue that will facilitate the enjoining of all that is opposite and unloving among the sexes. That men and women are finding more reasons stand in opposition to one another rather than endeavor to engage in acts of love and kindness breaks my heart. It is burden that summons me to tears in a way that no other yoke can. Sure, my heart has been broken and I have witnesses many unloving acts; however I still believe in all that is good in the opposite sex. I embrace this view as a requirement on the path to enlightenment.

The belief of a bequest of earthly dominion to “man” is a necessary philosophy of Christianity. It was equally bestowed to both genders. “Man” in this instance refers to all of mankind, not just men. Men and women have biological differences and social responsibilities as it relates to the gifts of their gender. Most difficulties, challenges and tragedies to this sensibility can be traced to the one biological allocation that mankind possesses to the exclusion of all other beings; having a conscious. It is our consciousness, our ability to choose that purportedly sets us apart from the rest of creation.

The bird and the lion do in fact arise each morning and perform as they are designed by the Creator. They do so because there are no cerebral options built into their configuration. Simply put, they cannot choose because they have no choice. Without the ability to choose, there is no wrestling for selfish satisfaction as is the blessing and curse of mankind.

Neither gender has cornered the market on hardship. In their own lanes, each gender has their cross to bear. And in carrying those so-called crosses, they arrive at life’s destinations based on the choices they have made over the span of their lifetime. As humans we are wrought with choice, some of which will undoubtedly make our journey through life more difficult than it has to be.

Knowing that individual and collective challenges abound, we should resist the urge to compete against each other in any circumstance. The sexes have allowed matters of the heart and ego to construct and expand the bridge of brokenness and mistrust between them. Love cannot abide in such channels of despair. Our lives can be unnecessarily hard or intentionally happy depending on the extent to which we allow the ego its way.

We must be exponentially kinder and genuinely empathetic to the plight of our friends, family members, partners, enemies and strangers of the opposite sex. True consciousness and authentic living and loving require the cessation of all competition. It is the pathway to a life that has the light of truth and the promise of love as its intentional companions.

Here’s to all men: I feel for you; but more than that…I love you.

Selah.

Camille

Father's Day Tribute

2011-06-18T13:41:00.000-07:00

Today, I am in awe of the pleasant picture painted by the "good dads". The concept falls flat and escapes my personal experience but nevertheless I celebrate all fathers who are doing it right. I am thinking of one man in particular who has shown his daughter (and me) that there are still good men in this world. He is my imaginary "baby daddy".

Selah!

Happy Father's Day!

Camille

Fathers and Daughters

The good ones paint the landscape of their daughter’s lives

creating future queens out of little princesses.

Their portraits reveal strong arms

perfect for burly bear hugs, and

bracing her lofty or inconsequential falls;

Hands, gentle and strapping as required

for wiping tears, giving gifts and

for holding hers while ambling up the street

or down the aisle.

Eyes, bright and wide open

aware and adoring.

His voice intonates warnings to would-be captors and suitors,

yet sings the melody of his unconditional love.

His legs are pilings of protection,

moving swiftly to welcome and rescue.

His legacy of intimacy is the sketch

by which all other men are appraised

and the good ones render with great accuracy

all that is noble

all that is virtuous and

all that is good

between fathers and daughters.

Milestones

2011-06-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

A few notable life markers are paving a crossroad I see emerging over the horizon that is my life. Later this year, a birthday celebration will coax me closer to 50. I will celebrate my 30-year high school reunion as well as my son’s 30^th birthday. And by all indications, my son will soon marry the woman who has captured his heart, and with that I will welcome her and her son, my first grandchild.

These milestones are the constructs of the shift that I have been expecting; the reason I surrendered to the glue that has securely fastened any meaningful progression in my personal life to the walls of the ardent success that I am currently experiencing professionally. I have lamented to close friends that in the not so distant past my personal life has been in limbo; namely because I rely too heavily upon the actions of others. These days I see the balance of my personal and professional lives bending around its final corner.

To that end, I have some work to do. The paths of my crossroad possess certain equities; they are surfaced in love and in the willingness to do the work that love requires. The work and desire are superimposed across each splinter, fissure and fracture that have been the companions of my heart. Now I must determine which manner of love being presented is concrete; set in what I require, not what someone else thinks I should have. Just because someone is presenting their best love effort does not mean that it is the best love for me.

I will not settle for love for the sake of being loved. I insist on being loved my way and conversely, loving in the manner that speaks to the heart of my lover.

The light of my cooperation with this process will expose otherwise cleverly concealed ill intentions. And I will respond accordingly, without hesitation or regret.

Selah.

Camille

Redeeming the Time

2011-06-02T16:27:00.000-07:00

“There is no past that we can bring back by longing for it.

There is only an eternally new now that builds

and creates itself out of the Best as the past withdraws."

(Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, novelist and dramatist.)

The span between regret and redemption is measured by our ability to love and forgive; ourselves and others. Living in regret vexes the spirit and impedes time as it pushes us past the past and our inability to change it.

There are moments that I relive with great personal satisfaction and others that I would redo if only for the sake of making right a perceived wrong. If only the realm of possibility would allow such opportunities. However, I have learned that parking in the past, no matter how pleasant or unpleasant, honorable or dishonorable the intention, is a blinding undertaking, one that reduces the spectacle of our already limited vision to the peripheral.

I am content to leave the reliving, redoing and retelling to my poems and novels. In doing so, any guilty parties, my co-conspirators and I can be cleverly disguised and my ego, along with all of its illusions of grandeur and perception of disenchantment, remains in its proper place, second only to the reality of the present.

The redemption of time is not an exercise for making up for time’s passing. It is an act of surrender to and an exchange of what our mind chronicles as history. It is an inheritance of the revealing light of perpetuity.

We cannot make-up for lost time, try as we may. What we can and must do is recognize the splendor of the present. It may not be what we planned or envisioned, but it is the offering at hand. And we must be its excellent and eternal steward.

Selah,

Camille