The Death of "Spock," Again

Leonard Nimoy (1931-2015)

Spock died yesterday, and this time he probably won't come back. For a reverent moment, let me clarify. The director, writer, photographer, singer and actor who portrayed the character Spock for more than five decades died on Feb. 27 in his bed, at home in Los Angeles' exclusive Belair neighborhood. He is gone, yet his memory will live long, and I hope that someday what the character represented will spread.

 Back to where this started -- Spock has lived, died and lived more than one life before. Paramount Studios, maker of the Star Trek films, killed off the character Spock,  in  "The Wrath of Khan," the second in a series of now 11 big-screen films. The then-Vulcan science officer on the Starship Enterprise sacrificed himself at the end of the film because, as that script nobly repeats several times, "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one." Anyway, the character dies in the 1982 film, but the producers misread the needs of the fans, and what Spock represented in the American psyche. That is why, in 1984, the third film, which Nimoy also directed, was tagged,  "The Search for Spock,"an aptly dubbed search-and-rescue saga.

I grieve the death of Leonard Nimoy, but not just as a fan of the television, film, animation, and novel series. The character which was a first on television in this country made me unashamed to embrace the embrace the emotionally controlled, rational, and logical spirit - the "Spock" - in me. More than that, I hope that someday many more people on this planet will show the traits the character so ably conveyed. We need more people to take on that posture instead of the passion-driven, purposeless, violent stances seemingly prevalent throughout the globe in  in the 21st Century.

Those traits came to me as the result of an education in the Classics. Most Americans will disagree, but I wish today's high school and college students would still be pushed to study languages, Philosophy, History, the Arts, and Social Sciences instead of just Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics. STEM will make young people become better cogs in a transnational money-making machine, but those who come through the education pipeline without even a faint familiarity with Classic deeds, contributions and artifacts of Global civilizations are likely to lose their souls. Nimoy's Spock contributed soul.

Quinto's Spock

As for the movies, the Nimoy Spock yielded his spot to the a younger, more passionate and cosmopolitan character with an itch for black women in the 2009 rebirth of the Star Trek movie series. He is portrayed as rage-filled, romantic and sometimes without logic by Zachary Quinto since movie number ten. That film rewove Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry's traditional storyline so far outside of what Trekkies and less die-hard fans might expect, the 127-minute drama had to be titled, "Star Trek," lest viewers become confused. Yet, Nimoy's specter was so powerful that the story included the actor and his character in a cameo role.

Nimoy's Spock was part of a race of people named after the Roman god of fire, Vulcan. Since the television series debuted during the late 1960s, a time when the United States was embroiled in a bloody conflict in Southeast Asia, his character often pointed out and criticized humanity's suicidal tendencies. Vulcan was nearly destroyed by the temptation to yield to the hearts' dictates without critical thought. Perhaps that is why Roddenberry had them not say "goodbye," as humans do upon departure. Vulcan's say, "Live long and prosper."

 The people of Vulcan came to understand that passion without logic can only yield unbridled violence. As Pope Paul VI once explained in his writings Peace on Earth can only truly emerge from the will to see all human life preserved and prosperous. As mentioned, I learned the same things reading human history, philosophy, ancient languages, and through the study of art and music. I remain puzzled why it seems that so few others people these days grasp the same understanding.

I see passion without logic everyday in the alleged acts of the self-proclaimed, Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL), as well as the covert drone wars of the United States. The tragic formula is evident in the Ferguson, Missouri riots' irrational rage, and the racially insensitive, inflexibility of the St. Louis County law enforcement. The pattern was in the "preemptive strike" policy of former President George W. Bush's administration, sadly echoed by the mandates of President Barack Obama.

Unbridled passion, irrational fear and disjointed logic destroy mental, physical and spiritual harmony and balance. Sadly those negative traits have woven into the fabric of life on this planet. Perhaps, as people read this, remember Leonard Nimoy, or search for Spock, those of good will be inspired to pause the violence and other evils that result from rage fed by fear and illogic, and consider, "Where does this gets us?"

The future of ourselves and the Earth will be the result of human will. Violence and fear are choices, not part of human nature. Like the mythical Vulcans, at any point Humans can turn the corner and choose to life and prosperity for all.

Man of Iron

The moniker "Man of Steel" is legendary as it refers to Superman. The three-word phrase became the brand for the comic book hero who came to Earth from a dying world to defend every form of life.

Man of Iron?

Well, my 5-year-old grandson would validate the impact of Marvel films on the human knowledge base and immediately shout, "That's Tony Stark!" He would think I mean Iron Man.

Wrong. I refer to me. Despite the comic fiction, human blood is filled with iron, or it should be. That is what enables our bodies to "breathe." During the past three months I learned a little bit about why the boy might see more iron in the fictional Stark than me.

The many sorrowful gazes I gleaned from medical technicians during my long absence from this blog usually came with a simple, three-word utterance, "You are anemic." In short, the iron that should be in me is depleted. Perhaps the mineral is not completely gone in my system, but shot to such low levels that the people who know about health are given pause.

Welcome to the world of a Man of Iron whose blood finds the mineral a few pints low. I don't know enough about iron poor blood to take on the wary gaze. I experience the results - lack of energy, shortness of breath, headaches, dizziness and irritability - which is just as troublesome. More scary is the knowledge that I am not alone.

According to the World Health Organization, 80 percent of the people on the planet have some sort of iron deficit. The essential mineral helps make hemoglobin and myoglobin, proteins that carry oxygen to the blood. I am a meat-eater, and surprised the habit does not provide enough iron to my system. According to government standards, a male older than 19 only needs 8 milligrams per day. Nonetheless, during the past few months I have endured the sad looks at the news of my lack of iron.

Meanwhile, I have checked out a few ways to fight back. A recent article on Vegan health suggested Vitamin C as an aid, because it helps the body to absorb iron. More than that, the piece listed a variety of plant-based sources for iron. Those include:

• Tofu (1/2 cup): 6.6 mg
• Spirulina (1 tsp): 5 mg
• Cooked soybeans (1/2 cup): 4.4 mg
• Pumpkin seeds (1 ounce): 4.2 mg
• Quinoa (4 ounces): 4 mg
• Blackstrap molasses (1 tbsp): 4 mg
• Tomato paste (4 ounces): 3.9 mg
• White beans (1/2 cup) 3.9 mg
• Dried apricots (1 cup): 3.5 mg
• Cooked spinach (1/2 cup): 3.2 mg
• Dried peaches (6 halves): 3.1 mg
• Prune juice (8 ounces): 3 mg
• Lentils (4 ounces): 3 mg
• Peas (1 cup): 2.1 mg

Aside from what to add, the article echoed Dr. Lin, who more than a year ago advised me to cast aside tea, coffee and dairy. Chemical compounds in the warm beverages called polyphenols bind with iron, which works against iron absorption. High calcium foods such as yogurt, ice cream and cheese eaten within an hour of iron-rich foods do the same thing.

In the end, iron-poor blood weakens my body, mind and spirit, but not my resolve to continue the journey at the heart of this blog. My quest remains to better balance and harmony in mind, body and spirit. I intend to work on the problem until the day when I can ask my grandson, "Who is the Man of Iron?" and he will answer, "You."

The Art of the Lesson

The morning walk was largely uneventful on the surface, because the most marvelous things happened inside me. I learned that more than one morning is going to begin with an overwhelming apathy and weakness. By the time I finished my course, the reason was clear. As William Arthur Ward, the inspirational author, once said, "Learning is more than absorbing facts, it is acquiring understanding." 

There are many mornings when I awake refreshed but in searing pain. Today was one, I figured because the temperature at around 6 a.m., was about 56 degrees. The pain level in the knees was at ten. That is how they often respond to the cold. I felt drained of energy. I blamed that on the rigorous events of the past weekend. I searched my mind for a couple of times for convenient-yet-convictioned excuses not to make the rounds. There were none.

I moaned and grumbled through the pain to pull on long johns, knee wraps, sweat pants, a T-shirt, and fleece jacket, then moved downstairs for the trek. I grabbed my water bottle and went into

the chilled morning air. There was almost no breeze. The air felt fresh. Although my legs moved as if each foot was bound in cement, I began the walk.

I won't make my movements into any special drama. They happen every day with various versions of the same pain. In fact, the only outwardly remarkable fact during this morning's walk was the absence of other joggers and walkers.  I was almost alone around the circuit. There were only two of the regulars.

Inside my chest were peculiar rumblings. I felt out of breath a couple of times, but pushed the weakness aside with concentration on the steps. It is important to listen to your body during exercise, yet you should not baby yourself. Every pinch, pull and wheeze carries clues about the nature of one's health. I logged each one, but remained determined. 

When the interruption came near breathlessness, I took a swig of water, and the symptoms subsided. When the knee pain climbed a notch, I focused more on the goal - the midway point - a bench outside the local Starbucks. I made it, and took a pause.

Homeward, on the second leg of the walk, the pace was really slow. At times I labored to take a step. I gave myself a rule - don't stop. One foot in front of the other, my eyes on the greenery, ponds, wild birds and bright sun. The house's front door hung in the back of my mind. 

The trick worked, but the energy levels continued to drop. I felt the breathlessness. Lola, my inner voice told me to take the short cut to my street, because I was likely to pass out. I argued with her. She gently repeated the advice. I focused on the way the sun bounced off the empty sidewalks and glistened against the pond. The environs became a haze more than an image. Lola won.

Well, I made it to the front door of my house, none the worse for the trial. I reflected on the incident, yet the cause was not clear.

After about ten minutes, I said, "I need to eat." I did not feel hungry, yet the thought uncharacteristically blunt. My tone held a tinge of desperation. I ate and recovered.

At times, we all have to pass through an experience and reflect, which is the real art of the lesson. Learning comes from reflection. Understanding comes with application. 

Mine was that I should check my blood glucose levels before exercise. I know. That is Diabetes101. I am normally so in control of the disease, my sugar level would have been my last choice as a source for a problem. 

As Ward stated, this little tale is about experience and understanding.  Take the story as a primer on how to learn about yourself. Consider the many signs inside and outside that the body offers during the day. Think about how often you pass up a chance to learn. Reflection on experiences can be a great teacher, unless you are afraid to understand.

When You Look in the Mirror

I am going to talk about what I do not want to discuss before I get to my point. My 9-year-old granddaughter was in hysterics for most of Halloween night. She was trick or treating, and walked up to the house of a 12-year-old that she considered her best friend. For the three-plus years they were in elementary school the older girl always looked out for her. I knew the friend, too. She wanted to be an actress, perhaps a megastar. I always thought she had a shot.

My granddaughter walked up to her friend's house for candy, and got the surprise of her way-too-short life. She saw a four-foot tall sign that read, "R.I.P. Jennifer," in the front yard, but thought it was part of the holiday decorations.  After she and her mom and brother knocked on the door, the girl was informed that her first real friend died.

My wife and I were at dinner when the call came that the granddaughter was crying and would not stop. The trio wanted to come by our home, so we went back to the house.

My granddaughter was inconsolable. My wife cried. My daughter cried. The 5-year-old grandson asked when they could finish the second leg of the quest for candy. I sat in silence. I never told her the girl committed suicide. I was unable to say anything that could make anyone feel better, mostly because the news hit me like the Hulk had punched me in the gut.

Honestly, I heard "a suicide" around the neighborhood more than a week before. I was not that moved. Suicide is epidemic, according to former Surgeon General David Satcher, M.D. , and most preventable. Sad to admit, people like me who turn a deaf ear to such reports become part of the problem. My aloofness at the general news indicates a serious imbalance in my spiritual and mental natures. I am likely not alone, but know that 3.5 million youths either have thought, plan to, have tried, or about to try to take themselves out this year. The Centers for Disease Control says suicide is the third major cause of death for the 15-to-24 crowd. Among 5- to 14-year-olds, the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry says it is the sixth cause of death.

Now, to my real point - we would treat ourselves better if when we look in the mirror we saw what God sees. I did not want to write about this experience, but my will wore down during my morning exercises and daily activities during the past two days. I cannot find a better way to get the sight of a weeping granddaughter dressed as Supergirl,  and the memory of her now-dead friend's enthusiastic smile out of my mind.

As I worked out during the last couple of days, the question that dogged me was what the 12-year-old saw in the mirror. I wished she saw the beautiful gift she was to us. Unfortunately, there are so many forces in society that militate against it. That led to larger thoughts - what do most people of all ages see when they looked in the mirror?

I rarely stare at myself in a mirror. I know that I will only see a beautiful gift from God. Also, old-style religious training makes me fear temptation toward vanity.

Society wants me to be ashamed that I am fat. Society wants me to be ashamed that I am black. Society wants me, you and anyone who pays attention to the daily media bombardment to be ashamed of the reality of human diversity. The constant media mantra, "You are not enough," prompts far too many people to waste money and time to try to fit or improve the wrong aspects of their existence.

Society wants us to be rich, thinner, more muscular, and taller but not too tall, with the "right" hair, teeth, smell, clothes, possessions and friends. In case anyone  does not know good from bad, the lesson comes with illustrations.

Experiment - search the internet for "beauty" images versus "handsome," and note the vast differences between the latitude allowed for women to consider themselves "beautiful" and men "handsome." In fact,rappers have said for decades the bigger the bankroll, for some women,  the more "handsome" the man. When did we get reality so twisted.

The reality is that God does not make junk. When you look in the mirror, you should get the message "I am worthy." My granddaughter, her friend, and other people throughout the world should realize YOU are all you really possess. Celebrate don't berate the beauty that exists in that presence.

My granddaughter came to the house last week after school and said, "How can I be skinny?"

"What?" I asked.

"I am fat."

"No," I said. "You are nine. You have no idea what you will look like when you are 19, or 29, or even 39."

"Yeah," she said with the kind of dismissive tone a child offers when they believe the adult does not get the point. "All of the other girls in my class are skinny. I am the only fat one. I don't want to be fat."

"The question is not what you want," I said, "but why?"

"I want to be like everybody else," she said."

"Well," I said that will never get you anywhere."

Well, I guess some of you are going to cast me as a "bad grandpa," but I told her to worry more about her grades than the size of her belly. By the way, the child is far from fat by International standards. At her age it is more important to think about who she is than what she wants to appear to be.

I told her about the mirror and beauty, but that does not have much impression on a grade-schooler. I guess I will just have to say it louder and more often - "You are worthy, because you are a beautiful gift that God gave to us."

I hope my granddaughter does not become a suicide statistic someday. I hope won't trade who she is for what someone would like her to be just to get along. I hope no one does. I hope she follows my example and learns to see the wonder of her existence in the mirror.

Most of us are banged up or broken inside and out, yet we have the power to make of God's gift whatever we will. If we take charge of our self-images, others cannot tell us what is important.
Long ago, those who said I was not worthy, important, hip, or relevant,  lost my attention. Even in this journey toward harmony and balance, my focus is on God's opinion more than those of other people.

I can't wait to hear what he has to say about who I am and what I did when the earthly part of my story ends. "You are worthy," I hope he will say, "because you were a beautiful gift."

Hey, Listen! Your Body is Talking

I'm back, dear readers. Thanks for the encouragement, comments, information and questions so many of you passed to me through the blog. I love to hear from you. Sorry for the brief absence, but there are times when one has to pause for the cause.

My body was strong on Monday, but shut down onTuesday. The challenges of dealing with acute arthritis, diabetes and sleep apnea.

I do not know why my energy sources are depleted at certain points. One minute, the batteries have a full charge.  Usually, the cycle is high at sunrise and burned out by sunset.  As the energy levels run down, sometime I can switch to auxiliary power - a couple of squares of dark chocolate, a hand full of nuts, or an apple or banana - to take me a few more hours. Then there are those times that come with age and my condition when the body launches a complete system shutdown.

That was Tuesday. I felt a little weary, reclined about 10 a.m. for a short nap and awakened around 5:30 p.m. Welcome to my world. The heart wants what it wants, but the body does not even ask. I do not get a vote.

I got used to weariness, and accept the lapse in energy as a legitimate aid to health. I do not believe in energy drinks or coffee for a quick boost, or to fight off the warning signals that flash in the recesses of my brain, when "Lola," the little silent voice impassively informs me, "System shutdown in five...four...three...two...one." Lights out!!!

Anyway, this is my way to say, listen to your body. The little signs and inklings that are around you are ignored at your peril. Yield when you experience an imbalance or a sense of dissonance in the body's response. Whatever you think is such an emergency - other than kids or a pot on the stove - will still be there tomorrow, or someone else can handle it.

Now, there are probably some hard-driving careerists, medical people or athletes that see my advice as far too wimpy for consideration. They subscribe to the Arnold Schwarzenegger School of Thought. "The mind is the limit," he once said. "As long as the mind can envision the fact that you can do something, you can do it, as long as you really believe 100 percent."

Well, Arnold,  on Tuesday I believed 100 percent that I would fulfill the days schedule. My body did not. "Lola" does not debate.

I am more a disciple of the Indian actress Kajol, who says: "The best thing you can do for your body is sleep. It's simple. Cater to your body as much as to your mind. Your body, after all, houses your mind. You have to pay attention to your physicality as much as your mentality."

Wednesday was a blur of doctor meetings, but I was back in the rough. Unfortunately, there was not enough time to write about Tuesday. Thursday was taken up in meetings with other writers and errands with and for the grandchildren. Nonetheless, I could not let the week days end without the expression of this one insight about the need to respect and submit to the body.

Parting thought - Bernie Siegel, retired pediatric surgeon and author of popular health books during the 1980s and early 1990s, such as says the New York Times bestseller Peace, Love & Healing: BodyMind Communication & the Path to Self Healing, casts the messages from your bodily spirit as a dialog. He once wrote, "Your body loves you, but if you do not love your life, it will end it far sooner, thinking it is doing you a favor."

Let's Chat About Fat

Monday was a step up from Sunday. Pain in the knees was at nine, and the rest of my body stayed at a comparatively calm eight. Some of those who read this might wonder why I celebrate. "You're still hurting," they might say. True. At the same time, one learns to be grateful for any little break.

Gratefulness came to mind yesterday when I read a story on fat. Most people assume there is no room for fat in wellness. There are so many commercials on television and radio that paint fat as the enemy. The hypers try to make believe that our lives won't be complete until all fat is wiped from the face of the Earth. I am grateful, because the article I read said humans need fat to live. 

If you know about fat, this brief entry might bore you. If not, bear with my distillation of what I learned - good fat energizes me, keeps the skin and hair healthy, aids some vitamin absorption, and provides a layer of warmth.

I heard about saturated and unsaturated fat, but I never understood the difference. Saturated, generally found in animal products and vegetable oils, clogs you. It leads to high cholesterol and perhaps heart attacks. Unsaturated fats, monounsaturated and polyunsaturated included, are good.

"Polyunsaturated fats include the famed omega 3 and omega 6 fats, both considered essential fatty acids, because our bodies can't make them on its own," the article said. "Polyunsaturated fats can help lower total cholesterol, while monounsaturated fats can raise "good" cholesterol, or HDL, and lower "bad" cholesterol, or LDL."

To get the suggested 20 to 35 percent of the "good fat" in my diet, the article said to eat more avocado, nuts (especially almonds), fish with high fat content (such as salmon), olives (oil included), eggs, and flax and other types of seeds. According to what I read, in the long run the result of such a shift in diet will make me a lot more healthy. For that, I would be be very grateful.

The Will and The Way

The pleasure of the crisp freshness in the air outside my body at 7 a.m., when I began the morning walk held a strong contrast to rotten pain in my knees. The 60-some-degrees temp here in Orlando was not far in its feel from 50-something i used to feel in Rochester. In fact, the weather chart says that is about how the weather there began today. Nonetheless, weather is changeable, yet my knee aches are a constant.

To use a doctor's measure - how much does it hurt on a scale from one to ten - most of every 24-hours the knees are a nine or ten, while the rest of the joints are a solid eight. This morning, the right knee was a 12, and the left fought hard for first place. That said, with a few pauses and a lot of time, I made the three-mile circuit around the neighborhood.

As Victor Hugo once said, "People do not lack strength, they lack will." Not to be dramatic, but there is much to be said for the force of human will. I willed myself in the sporadic trudge of my footsteps against the concrete sidewalks to not turn around. I allowed myself to sit a few times on the benches along the way, but not to turn back. I felt a little embarrassed as the joggers and other walkers looped me, but remained determined.

That is fate for those who want to fight the effects of rheumatoid arthritis or diabetes. We have to fight against the forces within our minds and hearts that tell us that the pain is larger or stronger than the will a human can muster. We have to resist the deceptive inner voice that whispers, You will be better off and pain-free in the comfy chair or bed.

In the quiet of this Sunday morning, I found the pain to be pretty big and fierce in its appearance. The inner voice came up with at least a half-dozen sound excuses for me to relent, but the will kicked in. In moments when the hurt was so severe that I almost saw the logic in compromise with the excuses, I reached out to The Way - God.

I mean, we say that God is bigger and stronger than any force that can come against us, right? I shut down the whisper with a silent plea to God for the strength to enforce my will.

When I reached the halfway point, the right knee, which is bone-on-bone, was warm and swollen. That is my body saying, "Danger. Danger." For those who do not believe in talking bodies, it is like driving a flat on the rims. The left knee, which makes a sound like loose change, just throbbed. Again, the left knee yearns to best the right, and not come off as wimpy.

Well, after a rest at the halfway mark, I stood and slowly shuffled one foot in front of the other. There is no heroics in that. If you wish to walk, you have to step. If you want to beat back the effects of arthritis, you have to move. If you want to kick diabetes, you need exercise. If I wanted to get back home, I needed to start. As the feet moved closer toward the goal on the ground, the gospel music in my ears lifted my spirit. The sights of the rising sun, palm trees, ponds, greenery and various kinds of wildlife, from squirrels to flying heron gave my mind a focus that pushed past the hurt. I even took the long way around, instead of the shortcut, to the front door.

I am no superman, yet I am also not devoid of The Will or The Way. I will use that knowledge as the months and years of this effort continue. I found no small coincidence in the fact that as I entered the last block to the house, Hezekiah Walker's choir sang, "Every praise is to our God." I sang along.

Use the YouTube link in the text above if the video doesn't load.