Simple Things/ Lang Kenneth Haynes
What you see is what you
get
“You remember Flip Wilson. He was a comedian, had his own television show and was a lot of other things. But for you and the
others who remember him the "What you see is what you get" expression is likely the thing that jumps out at you. You may find the
phrase more memorable because it was uttered by Geraldine, one of the characters that Wilson played in his sketches. A little more
recently there have been books and television shows hosted by people we generally consider being phenomenally successful. It
seems that there are many of us walking along the same gloriously bubbling brook ambling or walking with apparent determination
toward the same goal; the same destination; and asking the same question which is essentially related to why we are here in the
first place. An easier way to ask the question would be to gently confront you with this: What is your purpose?”
— Yogashala
Your question will be answered by the end of this column. Please be patient a little longer. My process is sometimes made up of
many little side-trips before I pull out the map. Some of us walk around with the maps in our pockets. Others think they know what
the maps should look like but those beliefs do not emanate from the place they should come from. And where should they come
from? My best guess is that there is no one place and that to suggest that there is would be a tad dogmatic. To my way of thinking, it
is not O.K. to peruse the question forever either because forever is an idea that most of us are a long way from comprehending.
In the process of defining our purpose, let's take a look at the gardens we were respectively planted in. I am not trying to play down
the significance of race in a racist world, who lives where and why, who lives how and why, who supports what and why, who
defined pre-existing conditions and why or, generally speaking, who screwed whom for whatever reason. There are plenty of
writers out there who can and do cover the very important topics of the day and they do it much better that I could ever dream of.
And since the subject of dreams has come up, let's talk about dreams a little. There is a very strong link between dreams and
imagination. What do you imagine your life to look like? What is your purpose?
We were planted in one of two gardens. In one we had a consciousness of poverty and in the other a consciousness of prosperity. I
know I said that there were only two gardens and I meant it. The problem is that there are some of us who attempt to straddle the
two and we do not feel comfortable in either. We do not call either home. The resulting problems are many but I'll only mention a few
here: One is that fence-sitting leads to sore butts. Another is that planting oneself firmly on one side of the fence necessarily means
— to our limited way of thinking about things — that you will have to leave behind everything that is hopefully growing on the other
side.
Now we'll look at the consciousness of poverty because I know emphatically that that is, the way I see things and I know myself
better than I know anything or anyone else. And in addition to taking a somewhat jaundiced view of things, I have the distinct honor
and privilege of knowing that there is something else on the other side of this dire, self-fulfilling prophecy. Happiness is on the other
side. This I know. I am not particularly interested in being content because I have been blessed with contentment over and over. I
crave adventure. I do not bungee jump or climb mountains but I do crave adventure. Happiness is not tied to another person until
you can see yourself in the eyes of the people you love as well as those you hate. Before I spin off into the stratosphere I'll come to
grips with the consciousness of poverty. I was born into the family I was born into because that is the best place for me to do
whatever it is I need to do this time around. My father grew up tough in the rural south during the early part of the 20th century. He
was the oldest male of a total of 10 kids. He had a passion for and excelled in mathematics and the physical sciences — particularly
chemistry. Dad talked about, studied and worked at his job and at home on things that were related to the things he loved. Please
keep in mind that in the '50s in the not-so-United States there were external and very real limits placed on what a Black man could
do and internal limits composed of the bitter and collective experiences of people who looked like my father. It wasn't fair. It isn't
fair. When I think of my father many images come to mind. One of the prevalent and recurring ones is that of a police car traveling to
an emergency at a high rate of speed with bright lights flashing and sirens screaming. There is only one problem: The address is not
known. How does a father impart to his son the critical message that needs to be shared even or especially if that message is the
opposite of what the father knows, in his heart of hearts, to be true? What are a few of the lessons to be learned? Hard work is
useless. Excellence is unachievable. And the best that you can do in this world is to never let anyone know what you really feel or
want and find a way to dull yourself to the inevitable pain.
Of course there were and are other people in my immediate family. I am very happy to say that many of them are marvelous in
obvious and not-so-obvious ways. The same could be said for many of the people I come across in whatever neighborhood I happen
to live in at any particular point in time. This way of looking at things can be extended to the world and the Universe. Yes. These
places are not merely floating around out there unaffected by what takes place in other realms. What is required is for me to see —
pay attention to where I am and why. I intentionally left out many people, places and situations that made my heart soar and things
that made my heart sink. Please fill in the margins and spaces between the lines with your stories. I think that you'll find the
similarities striking.
I must say that as glorious as my life is, I look at the world through a lens of poverty — a consciousness of poverty. I think I'll flip
this way of being around because there is nothing else to do and because I really do like adventures. What is my purpose? Writing.
Writing is my way to attempt to explain the unexplainable. Writing is the funnel, that I have been given, through which I pour
assorted observations, thoughts and feelings. I am a writer. Writing is my purpose. My next column will appear in the first July 2012
edition of "The Capital City Hues." It will be my 150th and I give myself credit for that because I have finally come to realize that I can
only love and accept my fellow beings to the extent that I love and accept myself.
others who remember him the "What you see is what you get" expression is likely the thing that jumps out at you. You may find the
phrase more memorable because it was uttered by Geraldine, one of the characters that Wilson played in his sketches. A little more
recently there have been books and television shows hosted by people we generally consider being phenomenally successful. It
seems that there are many of us walking along the same gloriously bubbling brook ambling or walking with apparent determination
toward the same goal; the same destination; and asking the same question which is essentially related to why we are here in the
first place. An easier way to ask the question would be to gently confront you with this: What is your purpose?”
— Yogashala
Your question will be answered by the end of this column. Please be patient a little longer. My process is sometimes made up of
many little side-trips before I pull out the map. Some of us walk around with the maps in our pockets. Others think they know what
the maps should look like but those beliefs do not emanate from the place they should come from. And where should they come
from? My best guess is that there is no one place and that to suggest that there is would be a tad dogmatic. To my way of thinking, it
is not O.K. to peruse the question forever either because forever is an idea that most of us are a long way from comprehending.
In the process of defining our purpose, let's take a look at the gardens we were respectively planted in. I am not trying to play down
the significance of race in a racist world, who lives where and why, who lives how and why, who supports what and why, who
defined pre-existing conditions and why or, generally speaking, who screwed whom for whatever reason. There are plenty of
writers out there who can and do cover the very important topics of the day and they do it much better that I could ever dream of.
And since the subject of dreams has come up, let's talk about dreams a little. There is a very strong link between dreams and
imagination. What do you imagine your life to look like? What is your purpose?
We were planted in one of two gardens. In one we had a consciousness of poverty and in the other a consciousness of prosperity. I
know I said that there were only two gardens and I meant it. The problem is that there are some of us who attempt to straddle the
two and we do not feel comfortable in either. We do not call either home. The resulting problems are many but I'll only mention a few
here: One is that fence-sitting leads to sore butts. Another is that planting oneself firmly on one side of the fence necessarily means
— to our limited way of thinking about things — that you will have to leave behind everything that is hopefully growing on the other
side.
Now we'll look at the consciousness of poverty because I know emphatically that that is, the way I see things and I know myself
better than I know anything or anyone else. And in addition to taking a somewhat jaundiced view of things, I have the distinct honor
and privilege of knowing that there is something else on the other side of this dire, self-fulfilling prophecy. Happiness is on the other
side. This I know. I am not particularly interested in being content because I have been blessed with contentment over and over. I
crave adventure. I do not bungee jump or climb mountains but I do crave adventure. Happiness is not tied to another person until
you can see yourself in the eyes of the people you love as well as those you hate. Before I spin off into the stratosphere I'll come to
grips with the consciousness of poverty. I was born into the family I was born into because that is the best place for me to do
whatever it is I need to do this time around. My father grew up tough in the rural south during the early part of the 20th century. He
was the oldest male of a total of 10 kids. He had a passion for and excelled in mathematics and the physical sciences — particularly
chemistry. Dad talked about, studied and worked at his job and at home on things that were related to the things he loved. Please
keep in mind that in the '50s in the not-so-United States there were external and very real limits placed on what a Black man could
do and internal limits composed of the bitter and collective experiences of people who looked like my father. It wasn't fair. It isn't
fair. When I think of my father many images come to mind. One of the prevalent and recurring ones is that of a police car traveling to
an emergency at a high rate of speed with bright lights flashing and sirens screaming. There is only one problem: The address is not
known. How does a father impart to his son the critical message that needs to be shared even or especially if that message is the
opposite of what the father knows, in his heart of hearts, to be true? What are a few of the lessons to be learned? Hard work is
useless. Excellence is unachievable. And the best that you can do in this world is to never let anyone know what you really feel or
want and find a way to dull yourself to the inevitable pain.
Of course there were and are other people in my immediate family. I am very happy to say that many of them are marvelous in
obvious and not-so-obvious ways. The same could be said for many of the people I come across in whatever neighborhood I happen
to live in at any particular point in time. This way of looking at things can be extended to the world and the Universe. Yes. These
places are not merely floating around out there unaffected by what takes place in other realms. What is required is for me to see —
pay attention to where I am and why. I intentionally left out many people, places and situations that made my heart soar and things
that made my heart sink. Please fill in the margins and spaces between the lines with your stories. I think that you'll find the
similarities striking.
I must say that as glorious as my life is, I look at the world through a lens of poverty — a consciousness of poverty. I think I'll flip
this way of being around because there is nothing else to do and because I really do like adventures. What is my purpose? Writing.
Writing is my way to attempt to explain the unexplainable. Writing is the funnel, that I have been given, through which I pour
assorted observations, thoughts and feelings. I am a writer. Writing is my purpose. My next column will appear in the first July 2012
edition of "The Capital City Hues." It will be my 150th and I give myself credit for that because I have finally come to realize that I can
only love and accept my fellow beings to the extent that I love and accept myself.