tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-203192072024-03-14T01:07:45.200-04:00That Johnson Boy Said What?Breaking the Silence ~ Illuminating The Darkness ~ So The Captive Can Be Set Free ~
Mission:Empowerment ~ That's M.E.KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-72179298448226410472012-04-09T05:20:00.000-04:002012-04-11T05:22:08.465-04:00The Day After Easter... SET SAIL!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #4f423b; font-family: LucidaGrande;">What
now? What do we do after celebrating Resurrection Sunday? Thank
God for <a href="http://www.facebook.com/zoyagarcia1"><span style="color: #81007f; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><b>The Official
Zoya Garcia!</b></span></a> I believe this sister has our word for The Day
After. Read on, family... read on!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #81007f; font-family: LucidaGrande;">"It's
time to <b>RISE & GRIND</b></span><span style="color: #81007f; font-family: LucidaGrande;">!!! YESTERDAYS in the TOMB... TODAY'S in the WOMB & what
you're INTIMATE with right now, you're going to give BIRTH to in your
TOMORROW!!! I woke up SUPER EXCITED knowing that I have the POWER to CREATE the
life I want!!! Remember, God gave us FREE WILL. Even in His plans to PROSPER
you, you must CHOOSE to PROSPER & CHOOSE to do WHAT IT TAKES to get there!
The POWER to CHANGE your life, the ANSWER is already IN YOUR HAND...so how bad
do YOU WANT IT??? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #81007f; font-family: LucidaGrande;">I
know you LOST some things, your business SUFFERED, been LIED ON, were
DISAPPOINTED by people who were SUPPOSED to BLESS you but didn't, dated people
that were BENEATH you, PROCRASTINATED on your VISIONS, were PARALYZED by fears,
allowed DEPRESSION to move in & the list goes on!!! If you woke up the
morning, YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE!!! <b>Now KILL the CRYING & the PITY PARTY
& let's GOOO... LET"S GET IT IN!!!"</b></span><span style="color: #81007f; font-family: LucidaGrande;"> </span><span style="color: #4f423b; font-family: LucidaGrande;">(Zoya Garcia, 2012)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4f423b; font-family: LucidaGrande;">You can
check out Zoya's inspirational postings at: <a href="file:///zoyagarcia1"><span style="color: #4c4b43;"><b>https://www.facebook.com/zoyagarcia1</b></span></a>.
Let her know That Johnson Boy Said "HEY MS. Z!"</span></div>
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</div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-40755916653585030372012-03-06T04:00:00.000-05:002012-03-06T04:08:01.857-05:00Rx For When Kids Drive You Crazy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I love my children. God knows I do. BUT, lately I've been wondering if all children come with an incessant stream of questions. <i>"Should I...? Can I...? Where do...? Have you seen my...?"</i> I'm not talking knowledge-seeking questions. Just your average chatter to keep the quiet at bay. Did I mention the blatant abuse of Salutational Pronounian proportions? <i>"Hey Dad... Hey Keith... Hey Dad... Hey Keith...".</i><br />
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People, there are days where it seems as if the <i>only</i> declarative sentence I hear from my kids is <b>"I dunno." </b>Help me somebody!<br />
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One morning I prayed for less questions and better coping skills, only to walk smack dab into gale force questioning. I'm thinking, <i>ok God... I get it</i>. If I pray for better coping skills, you present opportunities to practice better coping skills. That's it... <i>right?</i> (At least that's how Morgan Freeman explained it in his role as God in Evan Almighty.)<br />
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Just then, the inquisitive virus struck me. I found myself asking a few rhetorical questions of my very own. <i>"So God... is that how you feel when I bombard you with questions that I already know the answer? Does it frustrate you? Do you ever grow weary of my small talk?"</i><br />
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I didn't hear God's answer. I didn't have to. Roses carry the scent of love. Greeting cards convey the language of love. A kiss transmits the feeling of love. But patience? <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>Patience IS Love</i>... divine love at that</span></b>. Love is patient. God is love. God is... and you and I are too.<br />
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So, my dear Kenneth and Madison, keep those questions coming. I really am thankful that you think I know daddy stuff. Truth is, this Dad is still learning the divine simplicity of fatherhood from our heavenly Father.<br />
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Thank you God!</div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-24888753431850244642012-02-14T14:17:00.002-05:002012-02-14T14:17:41.059-05:00LOVE... SET FREE!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Each of us, having survived the great eternal passage, landed upon the shores of this strange land. Whatever self-awareness that survived the journey eroded under the corrosive shackles of this New World culture, religions, and traditions. Our native tongue was systematically abolished to accelerate the adoption of this new language of fear, distrust, separation, lack, and limitation.<br />
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In the spirit of Black History Month, I say today is the day that we set ourselves free. On this Valentine's Day, I'm here to <i>remind</i> you of <i>who you are</i> and <i>all</i> <i>that we are</i>.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">You are LOVE / We are LOVE</span></b></div>
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Inside out, through and through, you are LOVE. Not the feeling, not the word, not even the essence of love or love-like. Love is who you are--who we are--no matter what tribe we call our own. No matter the trials, tribulations, setbacks or circumstances...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>You are LOVE / We are LOVE.</b></span></div>
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You think being LOVE is difficult? Love is our natural state. Difficult is maintaining the unnatural act of withholding love or being cynical, unavailable, jaundiced, and leery of love. And just because one trashes love to the point it feels natural doesn't mean it's pain-free. It isn't. It's exhausting, destructive work. Trust me, <i>I know</i>. <br />
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Let this Valentine's Day be the day we <i>remember</i> that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>we are Love</b></span>. Let this be the day we abandon the unnatural language of fear, distrust, separation, lack and limitation. Our native tongue, in every language and dialect, is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>love</b></span>.<br />
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Have you any idea how uniquely beautiful you are? You are! So let your natural radiance shine through--not just today--but every, single day. The fabulous Ashford & Simpson penned it best... <i>"Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing, Baby... Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing." </i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>You are LOVE / We are LOVE!</b></span></div>
</div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-77008721317220796092012-01-17T05:46:00.001-05:002012-01-17T06:39:30.373-05:00WAKE UP!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I woke up from a dream today. It was a dream steeped in The New American Dream... plentiful jobs, fully replenished 401(k)'s, incredible health benefits and educational opportunities for all. It was a dream best described as <b>Unemploymentopia</b>!</div>
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I woke up from a dream today with the words of our family ancestor, Uncle Clyde Simmons, ringing in my ears:</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ain't nobody coming. Not the government... nobody."</span></b></div>
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Ain't nobody coming to fix the jobs situation or donning a cape to stop the flood of foreclosures. No governing body will bring about meaningful change to our education or penal systems. Ain't nobody coming... NOBODY. </div>
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To know Uncle Clyde is to know a walking, talking, believer and bestower of Positive Affirmations. His <i>ain't nobody coming</i> declaration, uttered just days before he transitioned, were not warnings steeped in doom and gloom. They weren't meant as an attack on President Obama either. They were and remain powerful words of inspiration, encouragement and a reminder to our family.</div>
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He understood that our solution lies in harnessing the collective intellectual, spiritual, emotional and financial resources within our own family. In other words, stop <i>outsourcing</i> ourselves and bring our talents in-house to create <i>true</i> wealth, <i>true</i> prosperity and legacy for generations to come. Thank God for the wisdom and guidance of our elders!</div>
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I woke up from a dream today knowing ain't nobody coming, but us. And you know what? I'm good with that. As we collectively emerge from this dream and <i>act</i> as if <i>ain't nobody coming</i>, we will invigorate our lives, our community and the world at-large, all the while breathing new life into the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,</div>
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<i><b>Free at Last, Free at Last, Thank God Almighty, We're Free at Last!</b></i></div>
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Keith O. Johnson</div>
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a/k/a That Johnson Boy</div>
</div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-82525307738898366532012-01-02T07:25:00.004-05:002012-01-02T07:48:57.445-05:00Reflecting on INSPIRATION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I woke up the week of December 10th to that still small voice instructing me to put out a message of hope for the Holiday season. Its soul, <i>yes SOUL</i>, intent was to draw attention away from a draining 2011 and redirect readers to the beauty that is the universal Spirit of Christmas. The only other parameter was that the project should be free, free, free!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Within hours, I had the title--<b>THE TWELVE RAYS OF CHRISTMAS</b>--along with twelve areas of focus. I began writing... waiting for inspiration... and spending inordinate amounts of time staring at the screen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">The first chapter, A Ray of HOPE, details how my nephew inspired and wrote my first chapter. But, on Tuesday, December 20th, the project and my understanding of <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">INSPIRATION</span></b> took on a whole new level of understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I was in the middle of writing when I received a text message informing me that a good friend had finally moved into her first California apartment. I broke my no <i>interruptions rule</i> and gave her a call. She began telling me the most wonderful story--a literal depiction of a Ray of Love. I asked if I could type while she talked so that I could use her story in my project. "Of course!" she replied, and then proceeded to go into hyper-dictation mode. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Minutes later, I received another call and upon glancing at the caller ID, felt the need to take the call. You do know what happened, don't you? Another incredible story that sent my fingers scrambling to document her testimony which would illustrate a Ray of Gratitude. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I could see something developing, something beyond the scope I had established for this project. I stopped everything, asked for divine guidance and waited for my answer. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">My answer came via the divine jet stream. The only reason I wasn't blown away was that I completely let go of the reins and allowed Spirit to move <i>and move me</i> as only Spirit can. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">My next lesson in <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;">INSPIRATION</span></b> came from my wife, Nicole. She is the Queen of "when Spirit says move, MOVE!" While I typically negotiate and request confirmation before changing <i>MY</i> well-laid plans, my wife moves immediately. No negotiation. No worries about "her plans or her blueprints." Just shift and go! My channeling her approach is a major reason why I didn't lose my mind and shut down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">The closing lesson on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;"><b>INSPIRATION</b></span> came from Dr. Wayne Dyer. His book, INSPIRATION, was my introduction to the concept equating INSPIRATION to "being in Spirit." What happened over the next 48 hours illustrated his position beautifully. When I emerged from my impromptu meditation, I sat still until led to call or write a specific person. There was no logic to the process. None! Whoever came to mind as a possible collaborator, I obeyed the feeling and reached out. All in all, I reached out to 15 people. Twelve responded immediately, picked a theme word and sent me their stories. One writer, Gordon Chambers, emailed me his story within an hour, all the way from Tokyo! Another, Australian Bronnie Ware, replied with a big yes despite having never met me or read my work! When I was feeling ansty and ready to take charge, something in my spirit told me to wait. And indeed, the contributions of Cynthia Occelli and Max Luces-Tucker were well worth every single minute and more! Forty-eight hours after that initial text <i>interruption</i>, I had 12 Rays of Christmas beautifully depicted by twelve individuals collaborating as one spirit. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000099;">INSPIRATION!</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">It would take me until 7pm-ish, Christmas Eve before I actually hit send and published the eBook. That part of me that loves the details was still battling for perfection. I'd received several calls from folks who know me well reminding me that "good enough" will suffice. Ultimately, it was remembering the PURPOSE of the project that prompted me to stop everything and hit send. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">As I was writing this blog, I discovered a very special gift among the many gifts this project granted me. Of the twelve individuals that made up the 48-Hour Inspiration Dream Team, four of them were participants in the 2011 Artist's Breakthrough </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #003300; font-family: georgia;"><b>"FREE YOUR CREATIVE SOUL"</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"> Workshop series! Thanks TK, 7th Mark, Rev. Cynthia Bond and donning her Producer's cap for the first time, Cynthia Johnson! Now THAT was a special gift indeed! </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">INSPIRATION!</span></b> Be it. Believe it. Live it. It's the divine jet stream that allows us to soar higher than we ever dreamed imaginable. Let go and let it flow. Don't be scared. Don't close your eyes either. Just let go and soar!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Welcome to 2012! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Keith Johnson aka That Johnson Boy</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><a href="http://eepurl.com/hTLLo" target="_blank">Click HERE to Download Your Complimentary Copy of THE TWELVE RAYS OF CHRISTMAS.</a></span></div>
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</div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-11546551952088536222011-01-06T18:29:00.002-05:002011-01-06T18:35:20.748-05:00$700 Fine for JayWalking in LA!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TSYB9J-t4HI/AAAAAAAAAdk/MWBQM8OTXHg/s1600/%25C2%25A9BBP2010KeithJDSC_2038_0831_14068-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TSYB9J-t4HI/AAAAAAAAAdk/MWBQM8OTXHg/s200/%25C2%25A9BBP2010KeithJDSC_2038_0831_14068-Edit.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>I'm living proof that a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>$700</b></span> Jaywalking ticket will make you arrive in court a day early with your best Johnnie Cochran swag on full blast. <br />
<br />
Next day, I'm back... ready... feeling and looking good like a Cochran man should. Inside the chamber, the Repeat Offenders posse douse my ears with HazMat-grade cynicism. I shift my focus to the "No Talking" sign and pray for the proceedings to begin! <br />
<br />
The Judge enters the chamber bringing new meaning to the phrase "justice is blind." His Honor rarely looked at anyone during the proceedings. It was as if we were witnessing a Master Ventriloquist dispensing No-Look justice in 30-second sound bites. I witnessed at least 30 no-look trials where fines were reduced and payment extensions granted. But, every request for community service was cut-off by His Honor's judicial remix of the Destiny's Child hit, <b>"No, No, No, No, No!" </b><br />
Finally, I'm summoned before the Judge.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Keith Johnson... Crossing against a Do Not Walk sign... how do you plead?</span><br />
<i>No Contest, Your Honor.</i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Same as guilty. Fine is reduced to $50, State of California fee of $145. Will you pay today or do you need an extension to pay?</span><br />
(Hmm, fine greatly reduced, but I'm walking outta here with all of my cash)<i> Your Honor, I'd like to request Community Service.</i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Do you have a job?</span><br />
<i>No sir, your Honor. </i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">How do you provide for yourself?</span><br />
<i>I've lived off my now depleted savings, and...</i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">So how do you provide for yourself (with a hint of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><i>irritation</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> in his ventriloquy)?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br />
</span><br />
I...<br />
The record will reflect that I answered immediately, but I swear to you, time stood still. I had the facts, figures, and estimations to answer him. Neither his curtness nor the indignation of having to share my personal information in this impersonal forum could knock me off my stride. <br />
<br />
Inexplicably, something compelled me to abandon my strategy and to just tell the truth even if it might be deemed inappropriate. I stuttered just a bit in reply to his request of "how do you provide for yourself..."<br />
<br />
<i><b>G-G-G-God Your Honor.</b></i><br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><i>W-W-WHAT DID HE SAY?</i></span></b> stammered the Judge, his head <i>finally</i> jerking upwards to see who invoked the name of GOD in his Chamber. He swung around, visibly flustered and asked the Court Reporter, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>DID HE SAY GOD?</b> </span> <br />
<br />
<i>Did I? Did I just say God?</i> I could hear sprinkles of laughter emanating from various parts of the chamber as I confirmed that my provisions were truly a blessing from God. <br />
<br />
He grumbled out his verdict. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>NO</b> Community Service. Pay by March 23. If you can't pay by then, come back before the bench!</span><br />
<br />
Foolish, dude! My mind was quick to remind me that uttering God was <i>not </i>a part of my legal strategy. But logic couldn't account for my journey, especially my journey back to Los Angeles. I left a great job in NY without a job in LA, and went from single in Manhattan to a family of four. Yet, through God's blessings, all of our needs continue to be met. We've seen miracles in our finances and opportunities. I bear witness to the spiritual truth that there are many blessing channels, but one source and that source is God. Great is thy faithfulness! <br />
<br />
I spent the rest of the day battling the dreaded ego. "You lost." "No Victory Update on Facebook for you?" "Did you <i>really</i> say <i>G-G-G-GOD</i>?" Thankfully, the story doesn't end there. I was blessed this morning with a new perspective. Thank you God!<br />
<br />
Perhaps someone needed to be reminded that they're not alone in facing life challenges;<br />
Perhaps someone needed to be reminded - yes, God is faithful; yes, God is our provider, but also the profoundly simple, awesome truth that... God Is. <br />
Or perhaps - just perhaps - God desired to hear <i>me</i> publicly proclaim that which I profusely thank Him for in my quiet time. <br />
<br />
I thank God for this morning's insight. And I'll even share with you what I shared with Him... <br />
<br />
Perhaps the notion of standing in a Court of Law, where one promises to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, So Help Me God, released just that: My Truth about God's Truth, the Universal Truth about a God that loves each and every single one of us. And that truth roared forth like the Chuck Brown classic...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I Feel Like Bustin' Loose, Bustin' Loose Y'all!!!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></div><br />
Love, from That Johnson BoyKEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-10190608120780504702010-10-11T13:06:00.004-04:002010-10-11T13:26:41.378-04:0021 Days in Labor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TLMiR11uliI/AAAAAAAAAdY/rPWIbXIGOY0/s1600/PregnantManinLabor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TLMiR11uliI/AAAAAAAAAdY/rPWIbXIGOY0/s200/PregnantManinLabor.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It's official!<br />
<br />
My proverbial water broke on the evening of Friday, October 8, 2010. Thankfully, I was among family old and new who call the <a href="http://lucyflorencecc.squarespace.com/">Lucy Florence Cultural Center</a> in Leimert Park, home. When Patty Kamson exclaimed "now is the time...", I knew exactly what that meant for me. My spirit was in agreement. Now is the time - <i>my time</i> - to birth this baby. And just like that I induced labor. <br />
<br />
No one seemed to notice that my water of intentions had broke. Then again, I was in the presence of women whose lineage birthed civilization. These, the Daughters of the Dust, are innately gifted in the African tradition of welcoming Spirit home. No need to panic. I just stated my intention over and over again...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"Now is the time to birth</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Must Love Chocolate</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now is the time to let it flow</div><div style="text-align: center;">through me and onto the pages.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now is the time!"</div><br />
A pregnant man definitely needs an incredible midwife. I immediately turned to natural born healer, Rhonda Kuykendall-Jabari. Diagnosis? Good to go and open to flow! <br />
<br />
So I thank you God. Thank you, even when I didn't understand divine interruption of <i><b>my</b></i> flow. I was close to finishing my first book when You whispered "there's a book that precedes this book."<br />
<br />
<b>What? </b> Do you know how long I've been working on <i><b>my</b></i> book?<br />
<br />
So I resisted... and insisted... and explored... and tinkered with... and got excited about your idea. I wrote like crazy... in my head, but your words never quite made it to the page. <br />
<br />
Thank you for stoking my passion even higher with living, breathing examples of the love you wanted me to display. Chocolate-covered dreams of love and companionship really do come true! Yet, even with my new found levels of excitement, that dang blinking cursor - naked in a void of whiteness - haunted me.<br />
<br />
And when I anguished over my good but not great title, you sent me 5600 miles to bask in the spirit of <a href="http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Shakespeare and Company</span></a>. Talk about a Parisian paradigm shift... Magnifique! <br />
<br />
That's love.<br />
<br />
I thank you God for your love. It is unto You that I submit these next 21 days of laser-focused intention of birthing your idea, one stroke at a time.<br />
<br />
Welcome to Day One of my 21 Days of Chocolate Labor. Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow!KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-87138127722275511142010-09-24T12:25:00.003-04:002010-09-24T17:53:06.776-04:00Why Men Leave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TJcZ_Zw10_I/AAAAAAAAAdI/dGWLbrSjPdc/s1600/%C2%A9BBP2010KOJDSC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TJcZ_Zw10_I/AAAAAAAAAdI/dGWLbrSjPdc/s200/%C2%A9BBP2010KOJDSC.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>I've never met a man who hasn't thought about leaving. Some just talk about it, while others lace up their Nike's and just do it. Me? I'm no exception. I've done both.<br />
<br />
Contrary to widely held beliefs, men don't leave for the other woman. They don't leave for the other man either. They don't leave because "you deserve better." Not even the lack of sex or an acute midlife crisis will cause a man leave. <br />
<br />
I know why men leave.<br />
<br />
Men won't leave, even when we feel our world takes us for granted. There are days when we feel like we're losing ourselves to our employers, mates, children, dates, friends, deals, panhandlers, bills, homework, housework, "yes, I'm <i>still</i> unemployed, ya jerk!" Our investments remain underwater with ballooning notes, not to mention the crazy IRS folks... unemployment's a joke, on & on & on & on... this list don't stop until...! Where's <i>my</i> time? When do <i>I</i> get to do something for <i>me</i>?" We may stress out and/or act out, but we won't leave.<br />
<br />
I know why men leave.<br />
<br />
Show me a man who believes that his dream is dying and I'll show you a man on the precipice of leaving everyone and everything. I'm not talking about your garden-variety dream, i.e., big house, financial riches, etc. No, I'm talking about THE dream. <i>THE LIFE MISSION</i> - the reason why we're here. It is a divine deposit that demands our withdrawal for circulation into and for the betterment of the universe at-large. Once we acknowledge and embrace what it is, it becomes our reason for living. But, if we aren't sure what it is or the demands of life appear so overwhelming that we can't envision it or question if we're even worthy of receiving the blessing, all Hell breaks loose! <br />
<br />
I can't think of anything more capable of sending men to the brink of leaving. But, we won't leave. He can even find meaning in his discontent. As Mary Morrissey stated in <i>Building Your Field of Dreams,</i> "Honor Your Discontent. Respect the feeling inside you that's nudging you toward a greater experience. This is God's greatest gift -- your life -- speaking to you. Your inner friction rubs and rubs, creating a divine spark that will ignite your desire into a potent idea."<br />
<br />
So, why do men leave?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;">Paternal Order</span></b></div><br />
I believe a man's father is the driving force in his life. Whether he is active in our lives, makes infrequent appearances or has never been in our lives is of no consequence. He is the driving force (mother's guide/father's drive). Some of us aspire to be like him. We do great Dad imitations, tracing his steps, his path and his legacy at the expense of neglecting the development of our true identities. Other men vow to <i>never</i> be like him, over-correcting to the point of losing our true selves. Every man knows the elation of seeing ourselves in our dad; and I dare say most men know the horror of seeing his own life previewed in the failures and setbacks of his father. All of this transpires unbeknown or unacknowledged by us because we are <i>our own man</i>.<br />
<br />
But the day comes when a man realizes that this invisible, paternal force does indeed affect his life, his decisions and his emotional well-being. His father <i>can't</i> calm turbulent seas, <i>can't</i> provide immediate relief from the overwhelming stress, <i>can't</i> understand nor help you live your life mission. That doesn't make our father's weak, incompetent or useless. It makes him human. It is then that we come face to face with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;">Paternal Order</span>, that our earthly father is not the alpha male. God, the Father, is. God doesn't just reign at the top. God reigns over all... everything... everywhere. <br />
<br />
Understanding Paternal Order will cause every man to <i>leave</i>... leave his father's footsteps and embark on his divinely created path as ordained by God, the Father. In Him, we must seek wisdom, guidance, comfort and fuel for the journey. He alone is our Creator and He alone created every aspect of our universe and our being. In the past, a man may have enjoyed or resented people proclaiming how much he is <i>like his father</i>. But, he'll <i>leave</i> that paradigm the moment he embraces that "I and the Father (God) are one." <br />
<br />
No matter how great and wonderful our fathers may be, we are not our father.<br />
No matter how invisible our fathers may be, we are not our father.<br />
No matter the level of success our father's may have achieved, we are not our father.<br />
Your path is uniquely yours. Your life mission? Uniquely yours too.<br />
As Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith recently stated, <b>"Our life is a Master Piece, not a copy.</b> <b>Any questions, insights, clarifications should be directed to the Creator of the Master Piece."</b> Everything that you need - EVERYTHING - has already been provided. Just ask and you shall receive.<br />
<br />
I told you I know why men leave. <b>Women, too.</b> And to God Almighty be the glory!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;"><b>**********************</b></span></div><br />
Given the Paternal Order of things, this is my last post as <b>That Johnson Boy Said What?</b> I created the moniker to honor my Dad, whose name I proudly carry. The spirit behind the name will always be with me. But, my personal path awaits me. So, help me welcome into the world & just cover me with prayer, as I bid farewell to That Johnson Boy and Greetings to PROVERBIAL SUN!!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TJz2ow2KbHI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/-sXwXJBeXCg/s1600/proverbialsun_revised2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/TJz2ow2KbHI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/-sXwXJBeXCg/s200/proverbialsun_revised2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-2641950658782945812010-07-02T16:38:00.001-04:002010-07-02T16:44:06.993-04:00The BEST 4th of July Present EVER!Please take a few minutes to listen to this young brother's Graduation speech. POWER-FULL!!! <br />
<br />
<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" height="340" id="gorillaPlayer_bosp003" width="420"><embed src="http://cdn.springboard.gorillanation.com/storage/xplayer/yo033.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="340" allowscriptaccess="always" swliveconnect="true" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="e=4bffc0037b3a3a49328d685cccfc7c21cc002973d57a44951a38fddf065f5c696a66be9b89ee2d2f0947d4e15d253124c7d296b9a2a5d695fdd446d15f64f11765e48b3d7eea9b28f3c7da0f018862a02723d09accafe3f4ff222bb8b0&width=420&height=340&pid=bosp003&autostart=false&allowscriptaccess=always&usefullscreen=true&esnapshot=4bffc0037b3a3a493b90685cccfc7c21cc002973d57a44951a38fddf065f5c696a66be9b89ee2d2f094ccde2702233248cc5acbea7a6db8fb1c24c9f4679fd1d69b8967e2fa1cd689d83865a42ca25ff7c4c8fc682fca9acbf7e60eded8712a6b6&trueurl=http://bossip.com/263570/a-lil-positivity-8/#more-263570"></embed></object>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-12510731530566611112010-05-06T07:05:00.018-04:002010-05-06T18:55:11.146-04:00What To Give The Mom Who Doesn't Deserve a Damn Thing!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/S-JlpfcWapI/AAAAAAAAAb4/pj6GuIb1eTE/s1600/iStock_000004368572Small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/S-JlpfcWapI/AAAAAAAAAb4/pj6GuIb1eTE/s320/iStock_000004368572Small.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Damned if I do / damned if I don't</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mad if I do / guilt-ridden if I don't/</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Call when I know she's at church</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">or just... whatever.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Happy?</span></span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Mother's Day!</span></b></span></b></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Welcome to a world that I know all too well. I've spent years treading this debilitating riptide of anger and resentment. But alas, Mother's Day - the perfect platform to unleash my turmoil with calculated precision. Not pretty, is it? Breaches between parent and child never are. Petty perhaps, but pretty? Never.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
Lost in the madness is the dichotomy between love and anger. I actually love my Mother. But, unresolved issues from our past often produced conflicting waves of anger and resentment. Even in our happiest times the war between love and resentment waged on. I've prayed about it, attended professional counseling, created pacts with self to <i>just say no</i> to anger and the punishing emotional blows. Yet, time after time I found myself in relapse, mired in a war with no end, in a battle that I seemingly could not win. That's how it appeared to me, up until Mother's Day 2008.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I set out that weekend to have a wonderful time with my Mom. We shopped 'til she dropped, dined and shopped some more. We worshipped together and acknowledged that our first ever weekend excursion was mutually gratifying. But that's not what made it special. What made it truly special is the gift that we shared that weekend. I gave my Mom the gift of... </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Forgiveness</span></span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> We didn't speak it, nor did we write it. Yet, we both understood the spirit of forgiveness offered from the soul. On that day, our life began anew. I had attempted to forgive many times. It was the logical thing to do. But on this day, my <i>soul</i> said yes, <i>forgive her and...</i> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">forgive yourself for punishing her</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Mind you, my forgiveness wasn't based on understanding. I still didn't have answers as to why things happened in the past. I forgave her simply because she is my Mom, the first Lady in my life and the first Love of my Life. In forgiving her, I set us both free.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> During the train ride back to New York, I pondered a new dilemma: what will I tell my circle of <i>like-<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: white;">me's</span></i>? Like me, they were mired in dysfunctional parent/child relationships. Like me, we found comfort in our mutual understanding and empathy. Friends, <i>like me</i>, who would promptly slay anyone offering a fix, a scripture or medicine for our wounded souls. What will I say? I'll tell them the truth as it came to me while gazing at my reflection in the train window:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put away childish things." (1 Corinthians 13:11)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Had you shared this scripture with me just 48 hours earlier, I probably would've <i>dealt</i> with you. Seriously. But on that train ride home, this scripture illuminated my past in ways I never sought to ask. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What will I tell my friends like me? I'll tell them to love their Mom and forgive her, without reason. I'll tell them that the words of Paul <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: white;">Boese</span> ring true: <i>"forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future." </i>I'll tell them that true understanding and illumination comes <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">after</span></i> the act of forgiveness. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'll tell them that we were right. We won't do to our children what our Mom did (or didn't do) for us. I'll tell them that we'll be better parents <i>because</i> of our Mothers and their journey. I'll tell them what they already know deep inside their spirit - that the child in us lashes out about what <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: white;">should've</span> been. But the adult in us <i>knows</i> that life is about choices - complex, life-altering choices and the ramifications of each choice. We may not follow Mom's path, but each of us have managed to blaze our own path down ramification alley. May our own offspring be merciful in their judgement. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'll tell them to fight every spirit of resistance with the spirit of love. I'll tell them to spend time getting to know the woman behind the Mom title. I'll tell them to be patient as old wounds remain tender long after the skin appears mended. And if their Mom is no longer with us, I'll tell them it's never too late to heal the relationship. Speak the healing power of forgiveness, on Earth as it is in Heaven. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lastly, I'll shut the heck up. Like-<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: white;">me's</span> can only handle so much! But, I'm a living witness that the loving relationship you desire with your Mom is but a forgiving spirit away - risk everything, open your heart and go get it!!! <span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><strong><em><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Life begins with a whole heart</span>.</em></strong></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To my own Mother, thank you again for loving me, even when I made loving me so difficult. You are my First Lady and First Love and I'll always love you. To my other Mom, there aren't enough roses to show you how much I love you. And to my wife, who is <fill blank="" in="" the="">allowing me to spend Mother's Day away from her, I love you <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">LadyBug</span>. Me has a surprise for you!</fill></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And to all my Moms and their big babies, Happy Mother's Day! </span>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-10141208352160126092009-09-01T11:51:00.010-04:002009-09-01T14:28:40.515-04:00Why Every One of Us Must Fall<div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Sp1DaBxAxpI/AAAAAAAAAbU/HUMopqgQEFw/s1600-h/Fall_Foliage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376527644579907218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Sp1DaBxAxpI/AAAAAAAAAbU/HUMopqgQEFw/s320/Fall_Foliage.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br />To the brothers & sisters of Generation ME,<br /><br />Fall is here. I can feel it's presence, sense it in our conversations (both spoken and unspoken), and see it in our eyes. We know Fall as a planetary season, but never before have we experienced Fall as a life cycle. However, if you've recently celebrated or are slated to celebrate the Big 50, I say to you my friend... <span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong>W<span style="color:#ff0000;">e</span><span style="color:#009900;">l</span>c<span style="color:#ff0000;">o</span><span style="color:#009900;">m</span>e <span style="color:#ff0000;">t</span>o <span style="color:#33cc00;">F</span>a<span style="color:#ff0000;">l</span><span style="color:#33cc00;">l</span>.</strong></span><br /><br />Fall is here. Just yesterday, our leaves were Summery hues. Overnight, tinges of Autumn un-colored our foliage - a hair here, a forest there. Follicles fall leaving us bald. Tributaries have taken up residence where happy lines once flashed. Mirror, mirror on the wall... who the heck is THIS person and why are they showing up in MY mirror?<br /><br />Fall is here, our season of transition. Our Spring is but a memory. Our Summer? Yesterday's news. Our Fall is before us. What shall we do, my brother? My sister? What shall we do?<br /><br /></div><div align="left">This road trip of life is beckoning us. You gotta admit, the vantage point from the driver's seat is decidedly different at this point. We've passed the invisible road marker that signalled that we are beyond the halfway point. No longer does this road trip appear as an infinite adventure. It now has a destination, even if the remaining mileage is unknown. We may have 40+ years of struggling to balance our checkbook, but on this journey into Fall, life is demanding a full reconciliation. What will you do when, perhaps for the first time ever, your dreams disappear from your horizon and reappear in your rear view mirror? <em>"Is that my... my.... dream back there... on the side of the road?"</em><br /><br />Family, our Fall is here. Whether your life-to-date reconciliation didn't balance out or your dreams appear to be fading at warp speed, one thing is certain: we are entering our season of transition. Before you take radical actions or panic, I'm simply asking you to step back, take a deep breath and respect the process. It is necessary. It can be difficult. But, it is definitely in Divine Order. Welcome it.<br /></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>"To Everything There Is A Season"</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Ecclesiastes 3:1<br /></strong></span></div><div align="left"><br /><br />I don't have the answers for what lie ahead. I do believe there are two things we each can do that will benefit us greatly. First, let's agree to open and honest communication. Who knew of those dreams now appearing in your rear view mirror? <em>Who knew?</em> Let's have real dialog, withholding the judgement. Let's keep it real.<br /><br />Second, the path that we each must travel is cloaked in uncertainty. And yet, the pathway into Fall is well-travelled. We can illuminate our pathway by turning to the greatest, natural resource on earth, our elders. We may have bigger houses, fancier cars, bigger titles, and have out-earned them, but we'll never out-learn them. Seek out their counsel and sit as a child. Speak a little/listen a lot. No cell-phones, no 30 minute time allotments. <em>Theirs is a wisdom acquired from every season.</em> Invest quality time and you'll be rewarded with wisdom that not even Oprah money can't buy.<br /><br />Happy 50th, Generation Me. May you experience a peace that surpasses all understanding. Love, That Johnson Boy. </div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-61958031544138490282009-08-04T13:22:00.007-04:002009-08-05T11:52:47.107-04:00I Will Act Now!<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SnhvbZliGDI/AAAAAAAAAbE/M6mgXjUEBq0/s1600-h/fear_poster_med.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff6600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366161472527407154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SnhvbZliGDI/AAAAAAAAAbE/M6mgXjUEBq0/s200/fear_poster_med.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ff6600;"> </span><span style="color:#ff6600;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong>"My dreams are worthless,<br />my plans are dust,<br />my goals are impossible.<br />All are of no value unless<br />they are followed by action."</strong><br /></span></span><span style="color:#000000;">Og Mandino </span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;">(Excerpt from The Greatest Salesman in the World)<br /></span></div><p><br /><strong>I will act now.<br /></strong>Never has there been a map, however carefully executed to detail and scale, which carried its owner over even 1 inch of ground. Never has there been a parchment of law, however fair, which prevented one crime. Never has there been a scroll, even such as the one I hold, which earned so much as a penny, or produced a single word of acclamation. Action alone is the tinder which ignites the map, the parchment, this scroll, my dreams, my plans, my goals, into a living force. Action is the food and drink which will nourish my success.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.<br /></strong>My procrastination which has held me back was born of fear, and now I recognize this secret mined from the depths of all courageous hearts. Now I know that, to conquer fear, I must always act without hesitation, and the flutters in my heart will vanish. Now I know that action reduces the lion of terror to an ant of equanimity.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.<br /></strong>Only action determines my value in the marketplace, and to multiply my value I will multiply my actions. I will walk where the failure fears to walk. I will work when the failure seeks rest. I will talk when the failure remains silent. I will call on 10 who can buy my goods, while the failure makes grand plans to call on one. I will say it is done before the failure says it is too late.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.<br /></strong>For now is all I have. Tomorrow is the day reserved for the labor of the lazy. I am not lazy. Tomorrow is the day when the evil become good. I am not evil. Tomorrow is the day when the weak become strong. I am not weak. Tomorrow is the day when the failure will succeed. I am not a failure.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.</strong><br />When the lion is hungry, he eats. When the eagle has thirst, he drinks. Lest they act, both will perish.<br /><br />I hunger for success. I thirst for happiness and peace of mind. Lest I act, I will perish in a life of failure, misery and sleepless nights. I will command, and I will obey my own command.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.</strong><br />Success will not wait. If I delay, she will become betrothed to another and lost to me forever.<br /><br />This is the time. This is the place. I am the man.<br /><br /><strong>I will act now.</strong><br /></p><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;">(Excerpt from The Greatest Salesman In The World by Og Mandino)</span></strong></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-76925953701704279482009-05-27T06:58:00.003-04:002009-05-27T07:04:11.539-04:00A Meditation Experience from That Johnson Boy<object width="400" height="300"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=4862279&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=4862279&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/4862279">Yosemite - The Meditation Experience</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user681854">Keith Johnson</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p><p>Hello Fam,</p><p>Here's a wonderful energizer for Hump Day or any day for the matter. Â Hope you enjoy! Â Sincerely, That Johnson Boy</p><p>PS... If the video is jerky, press pause and allow the video to load complete before pressing start again. Â </p><p><br /></p>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-83352163814488825422008-12-09T10:57:00.008-05:002008-12-09T12:44:41.481-05:00Barack Uncensored: Who You Calling a...?<object width="340" height="285"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rk9v1gcZKqc&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rk9v1gcZKqc&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="285"></embed></object>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-8685424937969340092008-11-11T14:08:00.010-05:002008-11-11T14:34:54.406-05:00Why THIS Revolution MUST Be Televised<object height="225" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1891426&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1891426&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/1891426">Obama '08 - Vote For Hope</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/mcyogi">MC Yogi</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-81163856640893986562008-11-04T10:41:00.004-05:002008-11-04T11:07:11.948-05:00Election Day 2008 - What's YOUR Story?<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzFdAxAt_9EFq5EiTX7VLm_aCFX3pZZmVwolrXpUWusDBkdaxro--KRHSv6KRYfc3vXdB7B6b02pFM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Welcome to Election Day 2008!!! </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Can you believe it's finally here?</span></span><br /><br />Never have I been so grateful to cast my ballot. I was at my voting precinct at 6:55 a.m. (with video camera in tow). Yes, I videotaped my thoughts for your viewing pleasure.<br /><br />I'd love to hear your Election Day story. Click the <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">COMMENTS</span> link below to share your unique perspective.<br /><br />Happy voting, and looking forward to seeing you in my hometown of Washington, DC, during the Martin L. King/Inaugural Day weekend.<br /><br />That Johnson BoyKEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-87085653436400112432008-05-20T00:01:00.011-04:002008-05-21T08:56:09.931-04:00One Man's Naked Truth about Intimacy-Part I<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SCx-1bn8I2I/AAAAAAAAANs/R3-4LVsBEFE/s1600-h/iStock_000005343680XSmall.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200671126119523170" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SCx-1bn8I2I/AAAAAAAAANs/R3-4LVsBEFE/s200/iStock_000005343680XSmall.jpg" border="0" /></a><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">We are not human beings<br />on a spiritual journey.<br />We are <strong style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Spiritual Beings</span></strong><br />on a <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Human Journey</span>.<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:78%;" ><strong>Pierre Teilhard de Chardin<br />(French Jesuit Priest/Philosopher & Paleontologist)<br /><br /></strong></span></span></p><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;">Why are we so afraid of intimacy? Why am I?</span><br /><br />Few things have impacted my life like Teilhard de Chardin's <span style="font-style: italic;">"Spiritual Beings"</span> quote. Chardin's philosophy wasn't new to me. But, the stark simplicity of his words reawakened the oft-forgotten truth buried within this mass of clay. Most of all, they are a constant reminder of divine order. We <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Spiritual Beings</span> on a human journey. Now, I eagerly incorporate his <span style="font-style: italic;">Spiritual Beings</span> quote into my daily affirmations.<br /><br /><p></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;">Little did I know...<br /></span><br />just how pervasive my newly incorporated "Spirit first" affirmation would be. I received a call that my youngest sister was rushed to the Emergency Room. Major surgery ensued. Simultaneously, my Mom was recovering from major back surgery. The convergence of these events left my remaining sisters exhausted on all fronts. My brother and I both live out-of-state, but agreed to come home. He volunteered for the hospital shift, while I would relieve him once my sister was released.<br /><br />I boarded a 6:00am Baltimore-bound Amtrak train. My luggage contained ample clothing, laptop and enough work to fill every hour of my visit. But neither the Yellow cab driver nor the train porter could see the invisible steamer trunk I was dragging with me. Stuffed inside was the stress from both surgeries and anxiety over my role as Caretaker. God only knows what else was lurking below the surface. Ok, make that God & myself.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;">Why am I so afraid?</span><br /><br />My anxiety was eased upon seeing my sister. The shock at seeing her small frame was offset by her painful laughter at my jokes. Once home, I quickly found my rhythm and reveled in discovering the hyper-sensory skills of a caretaker/parent. We spent the next few days navigating post-surgery developments.<br /><br />Those first days were like Man Heaven. My duties were results-driven ~ running errands, maintaining the medication schedule, adjusting pillows and lite joking ~ all well within my comfort zone. Man Heaven offered this male ego the perfect world: a damsel in distress and fixable scenarios. It got even better... every day in Man Heaven is like Palm Friday! It seemed as if every female was extolling my <span style="font-style: italic;">greatness</span> for being there. There was something unsettling about the praise (which I will address in Part II). I was just a brother trying to care for his sister.<br /><br />My visit to Man Heaven ended abruptly when my sister's recuperation took a painful downturn. I was quickly being forced into that uncomfortable area beyond my comfort zone. I could simultaneously juggle a bed pan/trash can combo while assuring Sis that none of this was more than I could bear. Handling the frenetic pace of liquid projectiles was challenging, but no where near as discomforting as my search for what to say. What is it about men <span style="font-style: italic;">like me</span> that allows us to process a thousand thoughts-a-minute, yet our jaws remain clinched and our potentially soothing words... <span style="font-style: italic;">silent</span>? My first casualty? I lost my mind. I stopped thinking, ceased editing, and let my unrehearsed thoughts flow from my mouth.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">One small step for man, one large step for <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">this </span>man. </span><br /><br />My trials came faster than Sis' post-op gas pains. Each trial was more intense than the last. Each one demanded that I remove yet another layer of me, from me. My eldest sister joined us on Friday. Together we witnessed as our sister went from sick to violently ill. The pain gripped her body causing seizure-like tremors. I watched, looking and feeling helpless, as my eldest sister embraced her and prayed without ceasing.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-style: italic;">Why am I so afraid to Bare It All?</span><br /><br />"There is something you can do." I heard a voice inside me implore me to get naked - to lose all the suffocating layers. I knew what I had to do. What if I...? What would they...? What if...? <span style="font-style: italic;">I can't expose myself... not to that level.</span> But, the revealing words of my daily affirmation were unrelenting and ready to manifest in my life:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family:arial;">We are not human beings on a spiritual journey.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">We are <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Spiritual Beings</span> on a human journey.</span><br /></div><br /><br />I couldn't provide immediate relief for the pain that ravished her frail, trembling body. But, if I availed myself, I could soothe her soul. It wasn't about learning; it was <span style="font-style: italic;">remembering</span> how to soothe her soul.<br /><br />On Friday, May 9, 2008, my soul remembered what it really means to be intimate. I embraced my sister as I never have before. I softly spoke the words I've never spoken before ~ words that emanated from a pure place with the purist intention. I exposed myself to the universe, and in doing so declared that I finally remembered who I am.<br /><br />Her pain remained - so much so that we had to rush her to the hospital. But her soul? Her soul quieted like that of a newborn baby. As for my soul, it matched the rhythm of my once lost/forever found twin. We discovered peace. We discovered understanding. We discovered love in the purest sense.<br /><br />My life shall never be the same. Thank God!<br /><br />Check back next week for a very revealing Part II. Fellas you have about 1 week to enjoy your slice of Man Heaven 'cause I'm about to bite into the apple.<br /><br />Have a wonderful day, from <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">That Johnson Boy!</span><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><br />To write a comment or read viewer comments, click on the Comments link below.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-14800060090269608312008-04-15T00:44:00.012-04:002008-04-15T15:58:35.085-04:00Menage a Cinq? Now That's Sexy!<a ref="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SARAIUQ6GtI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/CwXJiWfQrfI/s1600-h/Lion.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189343182260411090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SARAIUQ6GtI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/CwXJiWfQrfI/s200/Lion.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">"We need quiet time to examine our lives openly and honestly... spending quiet time alone gives your mind an opportunity to renew itself and create order."</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"><em><strong>Susan Taylor</strong></em></span></div><br /><br /><div align="left">Spring has finally made its Broadway debut! To say that I welcome her arrival would be an understatement of global warming proportions. New York clung to Winter as if invoking the Mars <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Blackmon</span> refrain of <em>"please, baby please, baby baby, please!"</em> Mother Nature responded with a Stylistic gust of "Break Up, To Make Up... That's All, We Do." In the middle of this hot today/cold tomorrow drama were tormented folks like me. But alas, Spring is here!</div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Just as New York seemed unwilling to bid Winter goodbye, my internal clock clung tightly to the season of hibernation. I couldn't seem to jump start my mind and spirit out of hibernation mode. But, you know what folks? A hibernation well spent is a beautiful thing. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Hibernation? I know... most of us view hibernation as a luxury we cannot afford or worse, it's just plain <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ol</span>' lazy. I counter that belief with the words of Susan Taylor. Ms. Taylor speaks of the <em>need</em> for quiet time to <em>examine our lives openly and honestly</em>. Most of us operate at such a hectic pace that we barely have time to examine our checkbook. That's the openly honest-to-God truth. But, I say to you my friend... life-changing breakthroughs and (re)discoveries abound when you take the time/make the time to spend quality time with <em>yourself</em>. </div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">The secret to a great hibernation? It's all about the company you keep! And yours truly, That Johnson Boy, spent quality time with not one... not two or three, but FOUR beautiful ladies! That's right, my very first Menage a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Cinq</span>, and I can't wipe this silly smile from my face! I say again, a hibernation well spent is a beautiful thing! You want the dirt don't you? Here we go...</div><br />First up was my blue-eyed soul <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sista</span>, <span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>Louise Hay</strong></span>. Ms. Hay stimulated my brain cells with her book and DVD offering, <span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE</strong></span>. Her book first hit the bestseller list in 1984, and returned again in 2008. Every keystroke and image challenged my beliefs regarding illness and healing. Her book made me refocus on a question raised by Christ, who asked <em>"do you want to be made whole?"</em> I never forgot that bible verse, and it is the guiding force behind my life mission. Ms. Hay's book is a wonderful tool to utilize when we dare ask ourselves "<em>do we want to be made whole?"</em> Needless to say, my time spent hibernating with Louise was very good indeed.<br /><br />Next up, a blogger of whom I hold the highest regard. She goes by the name <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Babz</span> (like Babs) and her blog is <a href="http://lovebabz.blogspot.com/"><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lovebabz</span>: A Life in Transition</strong></a>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Babz</span>, like many of my blogging friends, is a gifted writer and I read her post every day. I believe her willingness to be emotionally naked, coupled with her strong empathic skills, will guide many to the comfort of a safe harbor. She will be one of my Mission Partners and we will go forth and do our part as conduits for healing. Not bad for a chick <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">representin</span>' CONNECTICUT!!!???<br /><br />Next up is the "Set It Off" girl. Every party needs one and this lady more than fits the bill. She's a D.C. native, and goes by the name C. Paige. She's an accomplished writer, having recently given birth to her baby, <a href="http://bloggersdelightbook.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Bloggers</span>' Delight: Volume One Love and Redemption."</strong></span> </a>But I warned y'all - she's the set it off chick. She and her crew are rewriting the publishing game rulebook. They've left the Matrix and are delivering Love and Redemption to a bookstore/cafe/restaurant/etc near you. By the way, they don't need the industry validation, unless it's for parking. Her hustle? Ridiculous! Her secret to making me beg for more? She signs every blog entry with <em>"Moved by The Creator, Merely posted by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">CapCity</span>."</em> How dope is that? I told y'all she'll set it off every single time!!!<br /><br />Finally, when you hibernate with four women, at least one of them should leave you in the fetal position muttering her name. Lady #4 is just that woman. Theresa Thompson had a lifelong dream of being a published author. She trusted God - through thick and thin - and in 2008, she proudly announced to the family that her first novel <a href="http://tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=978-1-60462-221-8"><strong>Dogs Gone Wild</strong> </a>is available for our literary consumption! Cousin T, thank you for your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">perseverance</span> and unwavering faith. You have no idea how your boldness invigorated and rejuvenated our family and all those who read your wagging tale of dogs abandoned during Hurricane Katrina. Ain't no shame here. Your accomplishments had me <em>saying your name</em> as I thanked God for your beacon of hope and faithfulness!<br /><br /><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SARXiUQ6GxI/AAAAAAAAAKw/ajG6d-0he8g/s1600-h/Hibernation+Books.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189368917704448786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/SARXiUQ6GxI/AAAAAAAAAKw/ajG6d-0he8g/s320/Hibernation+Books.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p><br />Folks, my hibernation is done - my faith more powerful than ever - and in no small part thanks to the God I love and the ladies mentioned above. I'm emerging rejuvenated and ready to roar!<br /><br />Just one question... y'all ready for me? Much love from That Johnson Boy!<br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"><br />To write a comment or read viewer comments, click on the Comments link below.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-21195460519700338992008-03-05T05:36:00.012-05:002008-11-05T23:35:30.367-05:00A Texas-Sized Scare in Camp Obama?<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R8535vtUS0I/AAAAAAAAAJA/eFcXSBbU-nY/s1600-h/CTMSOBAMA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174204855838067522" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R8535vtUS0I/AAAAAAAAAJA/eFcXSBbU-nY/s320/CTMSOBAMA.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Team Obama,<br /><br /><strong><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Welcome to March Madness!</span></strong> While that phrase is generally reserved for the upcoming winner-take-all NCAA Basketball Tournament, it also captures what lies ahead in our quest for the Presidency. It is in the spirit of March Madness that I don the Coach persona and say to all of you, "Huddle Up!"<br /><br />First things first. Did the headline get under your skin? Are you offended by the Breaking News caption? I hope so. I need your undivided attention so that you might hear these two facts:<br /><br />1. This Campaign doesn't need a Savior. It's not broken and doesn't need fixing; and<br />2. Turn off the tv. If the headlines are too distracting, then turn off the tv.<br /><br /><u>Here's a quick recap of where we stand:</u><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">1st Quarter</span> - Team Obama started fast with a victory in Iowa. The Clinton camp answered our initial charge with a New Hampshire win.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">2nd Quarter</span> - The game turned physical, but after much jostling Team Obama went into halftime having put together 12 consecutive victories.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">3rd Quarter</span> - The Clinton camp mounted a furious rally culminating with "must wins" in Texas and Ohio.<br /><br />Here we stand, poised for what promises to be one heck of a 4th quarter. We don't need major overhauls or panic-based decision-making. If we execute these 4th quarter adjustments, victory will be ours!<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><u>Adjustment #1 - Remain Fundamentally Sound</u><br /></span>We have run the best campaign bar none. This campaign has set a new standard for mobilizing and deploying 21st Century ideals and strategies in a political landscape stuck in the 20th Century. Let's just keep doing what we're doing. Also, let's lose the obsession with being the front runner. Watching too much TV will have you craving front runner status. But, AMERICA LOVES AN UNDERDOG. Plain & simple.<br /><br /><u><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Adjustment #2 - Be Street Savvy<br /></span></u>This 4th Quarter push for the Oval office will require us to be Street Savvy. Much like playground basketball, the campaign fouls will be hard and physical. Senator Obama might appeal to the referee. But, Barack Obama? He <em>knows</em> streetball. There's no calling <em>foul</em> when you get hacked, no demanding the ball. Shrug off the foul, then make them pay in the paint. Make them pay by converting Super Delegates. Make them pay by mounting more wins. For every hard foul, get your butt up off the floor and make them pay! Got it?<br /><br />When the play turns extremely aggressive (and it will), I need everyone to remember that politics and basketball are team sports. We must not lose our MVP to silly fouls, but we also cannot be pushed around either. I need enforcers to lay down the law. Remember, a stealthy-concealed, well-planted elbow to the ribcage will back off the most fervent opponent. The fundamentals of engagement are: (1) initiate, but never retaliate; and (2) smile/elbow/keep it moving. Who on Team Obama is willing to play this absolutely vital role? Do I need to bring Dennis Rodman out of retirement?<br /><br />Let's lose the trash-talking. This constant political bickering is akin to trash talking and we all know that excessive arguing might land us a technical foul. Keep your head in the game and remember that the trashtalker doesn't do so to hear themselves talk. They do so to take you out of your game. If you're engaging them, then you're not hearing the voters. More important, you can't hear me and that will not be tolerated.<br /><br /><u><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Adjustment #3 - To Thine Own Strengths Remain True</span></u><br />We can expect them to mount an all-out assault on your strengths. Sounds crazy, right? It's actually brilliant to turn ones' strength into a liability. Expect them to continue with the <em>"who do you want answering the phone in the middle of the night (hence he's not ready)"</em> strategy. But, their real focus will be on dismantling your strength as a communicator.<br /><br />In this 4th quarter, we will counter their great speaker/low substance claim by conveying to the American people what we already know for sure. <u>Barack Obama is a great communicator</u>. And whether it be our President, our CEO, our teachers or our loved ones, we know that effective communication is <em>the</em> key and without it chaos ensues. When the crisis phone rings at 3am, we need a President who can communicate (also known as speak <em>AND</em> listen) effectively. Effective communication will unearth important little gems of information like "are there or are there not weapons of mass destruction?" The ability of our President to glean information is much more critical than their willingness to go to bed every night, fully-trousered so that they can be ready to answer that early morning call like General Alexander "I'm in Charge" Haig!<br /><br /><u><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Adjustment #4 - The Solution is Green<br /></span></u>I've read the post-Texas political analysis. According to the political pundants, we might have a race problem on our hands. Heck, even the streets worry that Latinos won't support our man. This is why it will be critical that we disengage from the media and engage our voters. If you do so, you'll learn what many of us on the front lines already know. The problem isn't black vs. white, black vs. brown, educated vs. uneducated or rich vs. poor. The disconnect is rooted in green. The Street Savvy truth is this: those groups listed above have been positioned to fight against one another in the battle over limited resources at the State and Local level.<br /><br />Those at the lower end of the economic ladder are pitted against one another for the basic necessities of life. They're battling for funding for educational, healthcare, aftercare, and just about every basic service you can imagine. The present divide & conquer model afflicts all affected parties with a scarcity mentality. They are smart. They are intelligent. They desire nothing more than the fulfillment of the American Dream in their lives. But, the current system reduces them to hunters & gatherers.<br /><br />I challenge you, Team Obama, to meet with local leaders/organizations/non-profits to see if my observations hold merit. If they do, I challenge you to address the real issue and craft an action plan that not only wins voters, but heals the economic-induced rift between the have-nots and the have-nots.<br /><br />Team Obama, before you take to the court for this historic push to the White House, you must remember that <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><strong>Champions are forged through fire.<br /><br /></strong></span>For many of you, this final push will be the most intense challenge you've ever encountered. We have in Hillary a worthy, hungry and determined challenger. Punch her and she instinctively punches back. One look in her eyes and you know that there's no quit in her. And we really don't dislike her at all. Unfortunately, it's not her time. Now Is The Time for Barack Obama. We want him, our Nation needs him and the World welcomes his arrival onto the geo-political landscape.<br /><br />The 4th quarter between two great competitors is wrought with ebbs and flows and this campaign will be no different. We must execute. We must stay focused. We must do the little things well to ensure victory. But, in the end, it's about character. Will we withstand the heat of the battle and never lose faith? Can we execute our plan even as our opponent mount yet another comeback? I say to each of you... we can and we will! What we accomplish in this 4th quarter will impact our children's children. Let's give them a world that we only dreamed could be. Team Obama on 3!<br /><br />Signing off, your coach - That Johnson Boy!<br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><br />To write a comment or read viewer comments, click on the Comments link below.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-7028267956728832482008-02-14T03:05:00.022-05:002008-02-15T03:44:57.434-05:00Why Men Are Opting-Out of Valentine's Day<div align="left"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R7RvyYe2LbI/AAAAAAAAAIw/1q0-QBdXfdA/s1600-h/Valentines+Day+Strike.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166877583856774578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R7RvyYe2LbI/AAAAAAAAAIw/1q0-QBdXfdA/s320/Valentines+Day+Strike.jpg" border="0" /></a>Your eyes are not deceiving you. There's a movement afoot that's gaining momentum faster than Obama's Presidential campaign.<br /><br />Will 2008 be the year that men finally Just Say No to <span style="color:#ff0000;">Valentine's Day?</span> That's the buzz throughout the land. After hearing their arguments, I've concluded that my brethren just might have a case. 2008 is shaping up as the season of change, perhaps now is a good time to explore this radical rejection of our National Day of Love. </div><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Should Men Opt-Out of Valentine's Day? </span></strong></div><br /><div align="left">Fellas, we all know that romantic love is a complicated animal. But, what would propel a man to foresake Valentine's Day and join the Strike picket line?<br /><br />I guess you've never had <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span><br />put you under her spell<br />Watch you get dressed for work<br />only to make you say, "Oh what the hell"<br /><em>"Ahhh... boss... I'm not</em> <span style="font-size:78%;color:#3333ff;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(sniff sniff)</span><em><br /></em></span><em>feeling so swell."<br /></em>Make you call on Brother L.L.,<br />'Cause Love be <em>"Doin it & Doin it & Doin it Well."<br /></em><br />I guess you've never seen <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span><br />sauntering towards you<br />spilling all Victoria's Secrets along the way<br />leaving you defenseless with nothing to say...<em>but</em>,<br /><em><strong>Damn!</strong><br /></em>Make you sneak a peek in the daylight,<br />stare boldly in the moonlight,<br />or send your ass searching for a flashlight.<br /><br />I guess you've never felt <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span><br />melt your bad day away,<br />cajole your moody mood to play,<br />then soothingly remind you<br />that <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span> <em>always </em>has the final say.<br /><br />I guess you've never heard <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span><br />beckon over her shoulder<br /><em>with a come hither motion<br /></em>Because<span style="color:#ff0000;"> LOVE</span> don't give a damn<br />if the neighbors hear the commotion.<br /><br />Never felt <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE's</span> fingertips<br />linger upon your chest?<br />Never felt her frenchtips<br />burrow deep into your flesh?<br />Never known the intensity<br />of riding the crest?<br />Never had to fake a bathroom run<br />just to steal 5 minutes of rest!<br /><br />Guess you never believed<br />that the River of Life flows thru her.<br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="color:#000000;">That</span> LOVE</span> would overflow her banks<br />just to quinch <em>your</em> thirst<br />satiate <em>your</em> hunger<br />cleanse <em>your </em>spirit<br />and lubricate <em>your</em> mind.<br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span> offered you her nectar<br />glass filled to the brim.<br /><div align="left">But your response to her invitation?<br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">"Woman, You know I don't swim."</span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span><br />I guess <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span> never looked you in the eye<br />spoke to your shaky confidence<br />& proclaimed <em>Oh Yes, My Man Can Fly!</em><br />I guess you never soared high under the wind she provided<br />Never experienced the power of a man & woman undivided.<br /><br />If you've never known any of these things, then my brothers I say to you...<br /><br />Strike on, brothers... strike on. Guess you gotta do what you gotta do.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R7SGooe2LcI/AAAAAAAAAI4/qIpQzHsgeS4/s1600-h/Chocolate+Heart.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166902705120488898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R7SGooe2LcI/AAAAAAAAAI4/qIpQzHsgeS4/s200/Chocolate+Heart.jpg" border="0" /></a>But, as for That Johnson Boy? Love rules here fellas. Regardless of <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE's </span>rollercoaster journey through my life, the bottom line is... <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE</span> ~ in all of it's manifestations ~ has been extremely good to me. <span style="color:#ff0000;">LOVE's</span> beauty is everlasting. Forrest Gump probabaly said it best...</div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Life Is Like A Box of Chocolates."</span></div><p><br />Dude, take some time to savor the chocolate. Savor it, I say. I declare you'll give up that picket sign. And ladies, I'm wishing you a mouthful of chocolate-flavored kisses & surprises on this Valentine's Day of 2008! Love always, That Johnson Boy. </p><p><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)">To write a comment or read viewer comments,<br />click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span> </p></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-77859761983242613942008-01-18T01:35:00.001-05:002008-11-05T23:36:36.307-05:00Overcoming The Obama Dilemma<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R5BU8_v6M1I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/7HWXQqQhS54/s1600-h/Obama_08.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156714980220482386" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R5BU8_v6M1I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/7HWXQqQhS54/s400/Obama_08.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><strong>"I'm Asking You To Believe."<br /></strong></span></div><div align="center">Not just in my ability to<br />bring about change in Washington...<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><strong>I'm asking you to believe in yours."</strong></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;">Presidential Candidate <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Barack</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Obama</span></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />"Not yet, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Obama</span>... not yet."<br /><br />Those were my thoughts about Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Obama's</span> Presidential aspirations. I met Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Obama</span> a few years earlier at a Chicago fundraiser for his first Senate bid. I found him and his wife refreshing and most of all, <em>the real thing</em>. I've worked in the political arena on both the national and local level. Refreshing is a rare commodity. When Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Obama</span> announced his Presidential bid, I didn't hesitate to point my mouse to <a href="http://www.barackobama.com/">http://www.barackobama.com/</a> to make my campaign contribution. In the recesses of my mind, those words continued to resonate... "not yet, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Obama</span>... not yet."<br /><br />And then came Iowa.<br /><br />I vacationed in Iowa immediately after first meeting Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Obama</span>. There were cornfields aplenty and several really nice art galleries. But the talk of the town was all about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Obama</span>. Senate candidate <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Obama</span> had blazed a trailed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">thru</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Golena</span>, Iowa a week earlier and folks were still on fire! They were actually giddy over Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Obama</span> (as in Ala-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">BAMA</span>). So, I wasn't shocked when he won the Iowa Presidential caucus. However, I was shocked that my silent mantra was still playing out in my head... <em>"Not yet, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Obama</span>... not yet."</em> My apprehension was logical to me, even if steeped in a kind of ethnic protectionism. Why would anyone want to face these facts:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fact:</span> The next President of the United States of America will inherit a mess of historic proportions. From the economy to foreign policy, the President-elect will be knee deep in mess. I'm talking the kind of mess that invokes memories of Cedric The Entertainers' Presidential Stress Response of <em>"just tell 'em I ain't home."</em> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fact:</span> By all indicators we are already immersed in a recession. Then again, who needs an indicator. How's your raise? Your mortgage? Your credit card debt? Your tax bill? Are you oversleeping or can't quite sleep through the night? </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fact:</span> There is no quick fix to the war. The only silver lining? Buy some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Halliburton</span> stock. Then again, you might do well to just say no to this blood money.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />These facts, coupled with America's pattern of assassinating African-American leaders, form the basis for my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Obama</span> dilemma. Why would I want my candidate to inherit this mess? Six months into the new Presidency, the American public will forget who created the mess. I honestly don't want the Nation's first African-American President to be crushed under the weight of the Bush administration. I acknowledge and accept that African-Americans must often do more with less, and have historically made the best of bad situations. But Damn! This is about as bad as it gets. So you see, this <em>cannot</em> be your time, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Obama</span>. I felt strongly about my position - that is - until I heard your Iowa victory speech...<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><strong>"They said this day would never come..."<br /><br /></strong></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Now that alone was enough to capture my full attention. But his message was bigger than the civil rights movement. He then followed with...</div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><strong>"This is the day America remembered<br />what it means to HOPE."</strong></span><br /></div><div align="left"><br />On that victorious evening in Iowa, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Barack</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Obama</span> stopped being too young or too inexperienced. His youthful outlook and lack of time inside the political machine will be invaluable assets. I vowed that I would combat any fears about his safety with prayer. Most of all, my support wouldn't be based simply on the color of his skin. He's my next President because he is the <em>best</em> candidate for the journey that lies ahead. As my good friend, Dr. Dickerson, would say "he came into this world fully prepared for this journey."<br /><br />In the words of the late Martin L. King, Jr., "there are some difficult days ahead." Indeed America must reap the bitter harvest sown from the Bush administration's seeds of arrogance and blatant disregard for humanity. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R5BSp_v6MzI/AAAAAAAAAIA/TGU9recFBgk/s1600-h/streaming+sunraysxSmall.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156712454779712306" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R5BSp_v6MzI/AAAAAAAAAIA/TGU9recFBgk/s200/streaming+sunraysxSmall.jpg" border="0" /></a> The bible teaches us that in<br />everything there is a season. I believe the 2008 Presidential election challenges us to pick the candidate <em>best suited</em> for the coming season.<br /><br />There <em>is</em> a time for a politician. There <em>is</em> a time for a war hero. There <em>is</em> a time for a diplomat and a time for a shrewd tactician. But, today... <em>today is not that season</em>.<br /><br />This is the season of Hope. This is the season of change. We need a leader who can inspire the light within us, even as the foreboding shadows close in all around us. <em>This is the season that they said would never come.</em> I'll never understand why the naysayers doubted its arrival. Then again, the messenger was just some wet behind the ears, 34-year old minister <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">talkin</span>' bout <strong>"I Have a Dream." </strong>What would he know... right? Right!<br /><br />Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day from That Johnson Boy! </div><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">To write a comment or read viewer comments,<br />click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-71263010951300864752007-12-20T13:30:00.000-05:002007-12-21T14:58:40.457-05:00Five Holiday Gifts from That Johnson Boy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R2vwr_v6MuI/AAAAAAAAAHY/xWr7RxqVgg0/s1600-h/christmas_candle.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R2vwr_v6MuI/AAAAAAAAAHY/xWr7RxqVgg0/s200/christmas_candle.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146471637838344930" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Today's blog is<br />dedicated to my<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-style: italic;">blue-eyed soul brother</span><br />and beloved brother-in-law,<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Edwin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dearlove</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:85%;" >Your eyes gave hint of a kind heart.<br />Your smile simply confirmed it.</span><br /><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Happy Holidays! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">'Tis</span> the season for gift-giving and That Johnson Boy has five incredible gifts for you. In fact, these five will even make the <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Grinch</span> smile! They pack well, won't cost you one copper penny (<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">$0.00</span>), yet are absolutely, positively, priceless! Shall we begin?<br /><br />Gift #1 - Live In The Moment - This past week, I traveled to South Beach to celebrate my brother's 50<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> birthday. In reality, this year marked his <span style="font-style: italic;">51st</span> birthday. However, December 2006 found us all too busy, too strapped, too certain that we could recapture this special moment at a later date. In retrospect, allow me to add "too stupid" to the list.<br /><br />A visit to his favorite 5-star restaurant was a complete disaster. How bad? More than once I scanned the room to see if we were being "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">PUNKED</span>" (a/k/a Candid Camera moment for the 50 & over crew). It took me two days to get over the disappointment of the evening. But, on the plane ride home, the metaphoric brilliance of the restaurant hit me.<br /><br />The restaurant <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> definitely 5-Star. The food? <span style="font-style: italic;">Exquisite</span>. The service? <span style="font-style: italic;">Heavenly</span>. But, you can't show up late - <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">not just late but</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">365</span> days late</span> - and expect an incredible evening. Fifty years earlier, God reserved the perfect time and place. Yet, in our arrogance we glanced at our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">blackberrys</span> and elected to tinker with time. Guess what? Time won, we lost.<br /><br />My friends, the gift of "Living In The Moment" is priceless. Practice living in the moment until it comes naturally. This holiday season, there is always someone else to see, some place else to go. But the words of our Grandmothers ring true: "Still yourself, child" and live in the moment. Embrace this gift and you'll unlock a special bonus gift more precious than silver and gold. It is the gift of <span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;">cherished memories</span>.</span><br /><br />Gift #2 - The Gift of Touch - For all of the warm images we associate with the Holiday season, the truth is for many it is the loneliest time of the year. The gift of Touch warms like no fireplace could, and in fact, might actually save a life. Reach out and call that friend, family member, co-worker and let the warmth of your spirit shine through. Save the "I was worried about you speech" for another day. Same with the "wish you were here." This gift is about living in the here and now, and letting the love of your heart flow through. Ya feel me?<br /><br /><br />Give #3 The Gift of Tolerance - Each of us are unique. We are unique in our approach to life, how we love, laugh, play, work, process, pray, dream and the list goes on and on. Your children will never raise their children like you. Your sister will never prepare her collard greens the way you prepare your <span style="font-style: italic;">world famous</span> greens. Your brother's outlook on life will never be yours. As my family prepare to say goodbye to our loved one, Edwin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Dearlove</span>, one thing is certain. None of us - <span style="font-style: italic;">not one of us </span>- will approach the grief process the same. But, the gift of tolerance allows us to respect, and perhaps even appreciate, the difference in our approach. The gift of tolerance is like a welcomed sigh of relief. It just feels so good through and through.<br /><br />Gift #4 - The Gift of Forgiveness - I know what you're thinking... that's an Easter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R2wDpPv6MvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/O3xVbjhRU8s/s1600-h/iStock_000004562326XSmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/R2wDpPv6MvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/O3xVbjhRU8s/s200/iStock_000004562326XSmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146492481314632434" border="0" /></a> gift, right? Perhaps. But, consider this - the essence of forgiveness was born on Christmas Day. What better way to inject Christ back into the commercialized <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Christmas</span>? In the spirit of The Christ, let's give the gift of forgiveness. Not even the magical glow of a child on Christmas morning can compare to the glow of forgiveness. Trust me, no box and ribbon can contain it!<br /><br />Give #5 - Living Life To The Fullest - On December 25<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">th</span>, we will celebrate the birth of Jesus, The Christ. He is the ultimate gift - God's gift to mankind. In the spirit of this day, let us embrace God's gift and live life to the fullest. I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> you already know this, but it bears repeating: <span style="font-style: italic;">God has some incredible plans for you. </span> He's already opened the right doors and made reservations with the right people. Every gift, talent and "I didn't know I could do that-ism" has been divinely implanted in your DNA. Don't worry that you don't see them now. They're on a time-release formula, and just like God, they'll always show up right on time! It's the season of renewal and birthing greatness. It's the season to live your life to the fullest. Embrace Gift #5. Go 'head... I dare you!<br /><br />Happy Holidays from That Johnson Boy!<br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">To write a comment or read viewer comments,<br />click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span></div>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-17719049250676988812007-08-07T00:06:00.000-04:002007-08-09T09:05:16.665-04:00Take This Job And...<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Rrn-mIucJdI/AAAAAAAAAGA/jQM_dSXVhCQ/s1600-h/Abraham.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Rrn-mIucJdI/AAAAAAAAAGA/jQM_dSXVhCQ/s200/Abraham.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096384384477177298" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><font style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" face="trebuchet ms">Would I be standing here?<br />After all these years...<br />Among the stars above;<br />Maybe not...<br />If It Wasn't For Your Love.<br /></font><font style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" size="1"><font style="font-style: italic;">Gordon Chambers</font><br /><a href="http://gordonchambers.com/">www.GordonChambers.com</div style="text-align: center;"><br /></a></font><div style="text-align: left;">That Johnson Boy has a new gig! That's right folks, on July 24th I began a new chapter and joined the Operations side of ASCAP. </div style="text-align: left;">Earlier this year I graduated from ASCAP's groundbreaking MOVE Leadership Program. It was a grueling, but gratifying nine month experience. Shortly thereafter, the Head of ASCAP's Royalty/Distribution came a courtin' and I listened. I loved my job as a Membership Rep - having risen through the ranks from Executive Assistant to the Sr. Director, Creative Affairs in ASCAP's NY headquarters. Yet, as we concluded our initial meeting, the nervous energy that only a good challenge can produce was undeniable. I was seduced. A few rounds of intense interviews and negotiations and the deal was done. <br /><br />On July 24th, I headed into my new gig with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and exhilaration. Why then, less than two weeks into my new role, did I find myself declaring... <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">"You Can Take This Job and...".</span><br /></div><br />Have I lost my mind? Perhaps the transition from night owl to daywalker was more than I could bear. What could make a reasonably intelligent, ASCAP-invested person emphatically state<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">"You Can Take This Job and...?"</span><br /></div> <br />What was it that woke me up at 3am in a cold sweat? Was it the steep learning curve or the constant flow of data? Was it the never-ending stream of acronyms that made me a foreigner within my own department? Does ANYBODY speak english here? These ingredients alone were rendering me unconscious shortly after the street lights came on! <br /><br />Perhaps it was the realization that I've been charged with leading an area vital to the distribution of over $680 MILLION in royalty payments to our songwriters, composers and publishers. <em>That's 680,000,000 reasons to lie awake at night.</em><br /><br />Maybe it was the challenge of managing approximately 30 individuals. That's 30 unique INDIVIDUALS with individual needs, desires, goals, etc. How will I feed them? How will I grow them? How will I challenge them?<br /><br />My initial response was to hit the gym. I ran on the treadmill like a man possessed. I figured I'd burn off the energy until I was too tired to worry. It did produce sleep, but failed to resolve my core issues.<br /><br />My deliverance arrived via a phone call from one of my closest friends and Ph.D candidate, Kenney Dickerson. Dr. D shared with me something he heard at a recent educator's conference. <em>"We come into this world with everything we need for our entire life journey."</em> That means we arrived complete. Fully-loaded. Pimped out. Diamond in the back; sunroof top. You get the picture, don't you?<br /><br />Why did I feel anxious? I wanted to succeed. I wanted to deliver the goods. I wanted to make a substantial return on ASCAP's investment. Why would God honor my prayers and give me the desires of my heart if I wasn't ready? <br /><br />I don't remember the time or what I was doing, but I do know this... at some point the words of Dr. Dickerson took hold. I found within me a seed planted before birth and nurtured by an early illustrated children's bible. I can honestly say that I haven't recalled the story in 40+ years. But, in the spirit of Abraham, I gathered up my new job in it's entirety, and returned it to it's rightful owner.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">"Lord, You Can Take This Job and<br />Have <em>Your</em> Will Be Done.<br /><br /><em>Not My Will but Thy Will</em>."<br /></span><br /></div>I returned to Him that which He had so graciously given to me. <br /><br />Twenty-four hours after my offering, I was standing before 30 or so individuals curious to hear what sayeth That Johnson Boy. As I rose to speak, I did so fully confident that together we will accomplish incredible feats. Together we will grow leaps and bounds. Our future has been forever altered by the humblest of pleas. "Lord, take this job and have Your will be done." And for all that we shall accomplish, to God be the Glory! <br /><br />Thank you Dr. Dickerson. You are my brother and you remain as you've always been, the wisest of counsel. In the words of Donald Lawrence, <em>"You Speak Life!"</em> May God continue his divine work in your life! <br /><br />To the rest of you, know that everything that you need for your life journey was imbedded in you before the beginning began. That makes you uniquely qualified to do the unthinkable, achieve the impossible and have a wonderful time along the way! Love always, That Johnson Boy!<br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">To write a comment or read viewer comments,<br />click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-63722981861621535772007-07-04T23:51:00.000-04:002007-07-05T12:37:21.576-04:00Happy Interdependence Day!<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Rox7nu1quxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-ehz3ikTOV8/s1600-h/Group+Celebration.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/Rox7nu1quxI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-ehz3ikTOV8/s320/Group+Celebration.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083574001912691474" /></a><br /><br />That Johnson Boy here, and all I can say is Wow! So much has transpired since my last posting. I have tons of good news to share. I'm talking projects so exciting that I hate to go to sleep. But today's post is not about my projects. <br /><br /><center><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Today's posting is dedicated to the<br />Parents/Family/Friends and Teachers of the <br />Graduating Class of 2007.</center></strong></span> <br /><br />To the parents of the Class of 2007, you have my utmost praise and respect! Little did you know that graduating that cute little bundle of joy would produce more stress than the San Andreas Fault. Remember how you marveled when your little genius said their first words? Now, this same genius is contaminating your good DNA with some type of mental affliction that befuddles parents/teachers and the medical profession alike. <br /><br /><center><em>Why didn't you turn in your homework?</em> <span style="color:#ff0000;">"I dunno."</span><br /><em>Explain to me why you did your homework, but didn't turn it in? </em> <br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">"I dunno."</span><br /><em>>Are you even graduating?</em> <span style="color:#ff0000;">"Uhhhhh... I don't... I just... dunno."</span><br />We'll call it I-Dunno-itis and by all accounts it's extremely contagious. </center><br /><br />From the moment your genius "I dunno-ed" graduation, you became the unwilling co-star in the greatest cliffhanger of the modern era... <em>Stay tuned for the next episode of "Will he or will he not... Will she or will she not... graduate?"</em> It's must've been a humdinger of a cliffhanger because family, friends, and co-workers called daily for a sneak peek of the final episode. In fact, this cliffhanger was so intense that you couldn't sleep a wink! <br /><br />But, what did you do, my proud parent of the Class of 2007? No, I mean... what did you do <italic>after</italic> the 4th of July-style explosion and fireworks? No silly, I mean <em>after</em> you rationalized that a Taebo-style kick to the "hindpott" would constitute a crime punishable by jail time. <br /><br />What did you do? You did what you've always done. You took off work - just as you had in the early years when your genius came down with yet <em>another</em> ear infection. You took off work - sometimes at the expense of advancing your career and often times under the scornful glare of childless colleagues. And you did this even as your little genius appeared indifferent and resigned to failing. But youngster had no idea that his parent was his advocate, his mediator, and chief negotiator. Nor did he know that you left the building with an action plan in place and that you would literally will that child to graduation day. Ok, a dose of tough love/rough love/<em>"And I Am Telling You... You're Not Leaving These Books Unless You're Not Breathing"</em> kind of love. <br /><br />Because of your love <em>and</em> your actions, the entire world will know what you already know... that your baby really is a genius and a graduate! <strong>Trust me parents when I say your sacrifices have not been in vain. </strong> <br /><br />To the family and friends who refereed, tutored, or even pried fingers from the throat of the unsuspecting genius, take a bow! Your contribution was right on time (wasn't it genius?).<br /><br />To the teachers/administrators, I hear your frustration loud and clear. The emphasis on standardized statewide testing systems have all but eliminated true teaching and learning. I once thought "I-Dunno-itis" was just a phase or the "so cool it's dumb" thing to do. After talking with a many of you, I fear that we're systematically breeding "I-Dunno-itis" by failing to fully develop these young minds. I think each of us may need to look at the emphasis and time put into test preparation and ask our education leaders and ourselves that simple, yet effective question... "How's that working for our children?" <br /><br />Lastly, to my graduates of 2007, my heartfelt congratulations! Whether you're like my niece Kelsey, who graduated early and with Honors (go Ms. UCLA!), or more like That Johnson Boy <em>(don't ask)</em>, you have accomplished a great and wonderful milestone. I have a special gift for each of the graduating class of 2007. The gift will be released on Tuesday, August 14th. Be sure to join my email list to receive your Special Gift!<br /><br />My friends, I have much more to share and share I shall. In the meantime, to the parents/family/friends/teachers and graduates of the Class of 2007, <strong>Happy Interdependence Day!</strong> We've been independent far too long. As you can see, it takes an entire village to raise up one child. Let us celebrate our interdependence and together we can and shall change the world! Much love from That Johnson Boy!<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">To write a comment or read viewer comments,<br />click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.</span>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20319207.post-56500514491285106422007-04-04T16:12:00.000-04:002007-04-06T19:52:45.789-04:00All Roads Lead Home<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/RhaAC41dqcI/AAAAAAAAAEY/d5kCrt45ruE/s1600-h/CAJ-CEJ-KOJ.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050364819247311298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fWDxxc3CHGM/RhaAC41dqcI/AAAAAAAAAEY/d5kCrt45ruE/s320/CAJ-CEJ-KOJ.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">Back when polaroid pictures were king, my family would pile in the car and hit the road. My sisters would be sleep before we left D.C., but I would sit staring wide-eyed in utter fascination at the world beyond our Nation's Capitol. I would count out toll money or mentally map our route while bobbing my head to Pop's <em>"don't leave home without 'em"</em> collection of 8-track tapes. Junior Walker's <em>"Shotgun"</em> blared from the moment the pedal hit the metal. Gladys Knight & The Pips fueled the middle stretch. It was left up to Sam Cooke's <em>"Live at the Copa"</em> to close the show. I'm talking complete and total sensory overload and I loved every single musical mile!<br /><br />Perhaps our family road trips are the reason why I, along with my brother Taz, view our lives as one big, exciting road trip. Earlier this week, our road trip came upon the strangest of places. This town should have been called <em>Wishful Thinking</em>, nestled deep in the heart of <em>Not In Your Wildest Dreams</em>. But, make no mistake - we somehow had made it here, and were about to navigate the intersection of <em>"You'll Never Guess What Happened Today"</em> and "<em>Oh, My God!"</em> Rather than ease into the intersection, Taz -- in true Taz-like fashion -- sped thru the intersection while spewing the good news from his lips... </div><div align="center"><br /><strong>"They promoted me to Senior Vice President!" </strong></div><strong><div align="left"><br /></strong></div>Oh my God! My brother, the <em>Tasmanian Devil </em>himself, has been promoted to Sr. Vice President at a Fortune 500 company! The conversation that followed blurred like fall foliage when speeding along at 110 m.p.h. (yes, we do know what that looks like). But, my mind was slowly trying to process... <em>how did we get here?<br /></em><br />Briefly, ours is a relationship forged in the simplest of gestures. One of my earliest recollections is of him walking up to me, throwing his arm around me while saying, "Hey phathead... you want some ice cream?" And with that, I let loose one of those wide "Howdy Doody" smiles because... <strong>I had a big brother!</strong> He was my first football coach. His reputation alone made me bully-proof (you <em>really</em> didn't want to mess with Gangsta Shorty). He would laugh hysterically while I practiced my rap on his girlfriends. I can <em>still</em> recite Phillipe Wynne's rap from <em>"Love Don't Love Nobody"</em> so convincingly that you'd think it was my own. While I would soon grow taller than my brother, I would never outgrow him. How could I? He is, and always will be, my big brother.<br /><br />But what road does a little inner-city kid from Washington, DC take to ascend to Senior VP?<br /><br />The map-maker in me would tell you to head south with the Washington Monument shrinking in your rear view mirror. You'll pass Civil War battlefields and acres of corn fields. Keep driving until the asphalt runs out and gravel pummels your car's chassis. The world you knew is but a cloud of dust in your mirror. Unfolding before you is the lush utopia and safe haven we call "Grandma Charlotte's House." I don't know if it was when he demolished Granny's mailbox while attempting to drive a stick shift or when he put on his Sunday's best clothing to walk back to D.C. Either way, we should've known then... that boy's going somewhere!<br /><br />Make sure you drive back to D.C., and circle past Shaw Jr. High School, an inner city school manned then by the late Dr. Percy Ellis, band director Lloyd Hoover and an army of teachers/administrators who genuinely loved teaching and profoundly impacted the lives of every single student to walk thru those doors.<br /><br />Now, head north to the City of Bethesda, Maryland. There you'll find Georgetown Preparatory School. Truthfully, the school and its academic counterparts could have been the model for the present day SURVIVOR television series. You see, despite all of the atrocities endured by the civil rights marchers, one of their few assets was their strength in numbers. <em>But, for civil rights babies, there would be no such luxury</em>. They were the one's who integrated the Georgetown Preps, the Muhlenberg Colleges and American Universities in the same manner Noah populated the ark - two {max} at a time please! They would endure cultural shock, isolation and the pressure of assimilation, yet still manage to keep their afro's looking tight most of the time.<br /><br />Now hop in the car and fly by the U.S. Air Force Recruitment office and join up. Twenty years of service will ensure that you are well indoctrinated on the importance of loyalty, teamwork and the 11th Commandment of "no man left behind." Both terms are as valued in the office as they are on the battlefield. And while you're at it, go to night school for what may seem like an eternity. But you'll emerge - Master's degree in hand and ready to tackle the world!<br /><br />Make a right turn on Corporate America Blvd. For all of the guru books on Business, that Taz is fanatical about simplicity. His strategy? Establish a plan of action and then... everybody row like hell! If you know him, then you know this about him. Plan, then get to rowing! In fact, his dedication to goal-setting was the topic that launched this blog (<a href="http://kojohnson.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html">Little Goals</a>).<br /><br />With my thoughts and facts in place, I think I have the major components for mapping Taz's success. I know my mental map is lacking - marriage, children, family and friends, etc. Surely there's enough information to get one from Point A to Point S.V.P., ... right?<br /><br />Just as I opened my mouth to render my expert opinion, my brother said to me in a voice that cracked with humility... <div align="center"><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Brother, it takes the Man upstairs to make this happen.<br />You don't get here without HIM."</span></div><br /><br />And with that, my map was made whole. God's divine presence has been there every mile along the way. Every wrong turn, He's right there. Every detour, He's right there. Every "Road Under Construction," right there. As my big brother, Taz never told me what was cool, hip or fly just for the sake of being any of those things. He always told me and showed me the truth. And on this day, having navigated life's latest intersection, the simple truth is this...<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">All Roads Lead Home. </span></strong></div><strong><div align="left"><br /></strong></div>Congratulations Taz... you devil you! I'm so very proud of ya!<br /><br />And to all of you - whether you're striving for C.E.O. or Chief Cashier, stay encouraged, keep believing, plan your work and get to rowing. Your blessing is coming! Believe that! <div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;">To write a comment or read viewer comments, click on the Comments link below.<br />To share this article with a friend, click on the Envelope icon (w/arrow) below.<br /></div></span>KEITH O JOHNSONhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01650187166137259057noreply@blogger.com5