Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Lessons from A Buried Past

Restored and United:

Lessons from a Buried Past



I had just gotten back from a healing place called Kanuga, but I was scheduled to go out again. My sister/friend Brynn met my daughter Fatima and I and off we went to Sunday school with President Jimmy Carter in Plaines, Georgia.

Brynn and I had been before, but I wanted---no, I needed to go again. On the way, Brynn told us about a place that sold peaches in every and any form, including homemade ice cream, so we got off the highway and took the back road to Lanes Southern Orchard.

I’m not big on dairy products, but I’m always up for an adventure; both were delicious. Afterwards, we decided to stay on the back roads for the rest of the trip.

We were laughing and singing with the soundtrack to Hamilton when I spotted an unusual site. From the road, I saw a cemetery like no other. Over the redbrick wall, I could make out hundreds of headstones lined perfectly together.

When we could get a signal, I did an internet search for the town and discovered a place that none of us had ever heard of.

The Andersonville National Historic Site is a memorial to American prisoners of war, but it was also one of the Civil War prison/internment camps to this nation’s Union soldiers.

We knew that we had to go back, so on our way home from a moving time with President Carter, we intentionally made our way to the memorial site. Soberly, we drove through the enormous compound, listening to a guided narration on the car’s radio. We learned that over 70,000 Union soldiers had been imprisoned there. 55,000 of them died there. We made our way slowly past the stockades down the trenches and around to the cemetery. We could not speak. Thousands of headstones were lined up shoulder width apart. 




We learned of the work of a Dorence Atwater, a former prisoner of Andersonville, who kept a record of the names and numbers of the dead, so their families could be notified. After the war was over, Atwater used a smuggled second copy of his records and worked with Clara Barton, matching the numbered markers with the names of the dead.

My time at Kanuga, Sunday school with President Carter, at the historic site in Andersonville and even at the peach market, have led me to this; we are moving further and further away from our own truths. We have replaced them with the business of noise and things that look like living, but we are doing anything but.

As an African American northerner, living in the South, I don’t often want to hear about the Civil War. But as an African American Northerner living in and loving the South, I cannot walk into a Civil War cemetery filled with Union soldiers without being deeply moved. I need and want to know more.

This nation is divided in so many, many ways. I have come to see that if I want others to be united, then I need to be restored and united within my own self.

Get off to a quiet place, take a short trip, go see the history in your mind and in your own backyard, then ask yourself this question:

What do I need to see, recall, recollect and remember?

Be you, be well, be restored.


Bertice Berry, PhD.

Monday, June 25, 2018

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

I wrote this post several years ago. I'm back on track and grateful for it, but last week, I had the chance to speak to the Icons of Dentistry, women who have been trailblazers in their field.
I also had the opportunity to meet one of my heroes, Dr. Dan Fischer. Dr. Fischer is the founder of Ultradent, an inventor, entrepreneur and modern day abolitionist. His work heals and literally sets the captive free. Read about him and ask yourself what else you can do. In the meantime, let's all take better care of the only self we have.



Okay boys and girls, remember two things; you can’t shoot the messenger and the messenger had to take the first hit.

Wellness begins in your mouth; not just with the things you say, but also rather literally with your mouth.

Last week, I did something that I had neglected for a rather long time. It had been 3 years since my last “visit” to the dentist. Prior to then I went more than regularly with 6-8 visits and cleanings a year.
I have been blessed with great teeth. At 52 I’ve never had a cavity. A great deal of that is because of the care I had given my teeth, but let’s face it, the other part is pure genetics.
My genetic juice also blessed with me gums that require a deep cleaning every 6 years, but that too had been neglected.

So last week when I broke down and made an appointment (which only happened because my daughter needed to go,) I was embarrassed by the state of my oral health.

Wellness truly starts in the mouth. Your physician probably won’t tell you, because quite frankly, they don’t know, but the lack of oral health is related to heart disease, strokes, joint pain and diabetes. The bacteria of gum disease can get into your blood stream causing a slow and painful death.(Read more about the oral systemic connection)

If your mouth is not well, your body will not be either.

As my mouth put Michele and Dr. Breitberg through a workout, I cried out in pain. When Michelle, the hygienist asked if I was okay, I told her that everything hurt. She was about to call the doctor in for more Novocain when I stopped her and managed to say that the pain came from the realization that I had been caring for my mother, my children, family, dogs and friends, but I had forgotten to take care of my own mouth.
As I cried, I vowed to not let it happen again. I had another appointment with the dentist but I moved it up and got back in sooner.

The gum cleaning not only made my teeth look better; it made my body feel better too. The aches and pains I had been feeling in my back and knees have miraculously gone away.
I find most dentists to be a humble lot. They don’t tend to make big bold claims of miracle drugs and treatments, but what they know about the connection between the nerves in your mouth and those in your body will astonish you. 

If I told you that there was a way to avoid a heart attack or stroke would you listen?
There is and I’m telling you---get to the dentist.

Before you buy another pair of shoes, a dress or even a cup of coffee, put your money where your mouth is and see a dentist.

Be you, be well, be smiling.
Bertice Berry, PhD.

Monday, June 18, 2018

Into the Woods of Your Mind

What’s in Your Woods?

It is a poorly kept secret that I suffer from Mobility Stuff. (Same initials, I just won’t give it power.) After nine years of good and bad days, I’m getting better. So, I’m doing what I need to do and I’m walking through it.

Lately, I’ve been taking morning walks and I'm amazed to actually see some of what’s living in my woods. One morning, a fox strolled towards me before realizing that he might want to go the other way. The fox looked exactly like they do in a kid’s cartoon, bright red with a “sly” smile.

I saw a giant turkey vulture sitting on a fence. She looked at me as if she belonged there and I did not. And then I “discovered” the barred owls who starred at me as if they’d never seen anything so odd.

I may not have seen them before, but these creatures live here, and they have been here all along.

These encounters with the wildlife in my woods got me to thinking about my own subconscious. I began to wonder about what has been living in the woods of my own mind. What wild thought has taken residence and has birthed a family in my subconscious?

What lives in the woods of my thinking, nesting and belonging without me even noticing?

Maybe, I’ll heal better when I clear out the thoughts that have burrowed a nest in my subconscious and have sent pain down my nerves and into my limbs. 

Maybe, just maybe the woods of our mind are harboring creatures that keep us up at night, keep us from moving forward whispering doubt and disbelief.

The fox, deer, owls, vultures and even the snakes that I know are out in the woods can stay right where they are, but the unknown of my mind had better watch out, because I’m doing a clearing.

I am renewing my mind on a daily basis. I’m getting rid of anything that keeps me from moving forward into the best I can be. 


Be you, be well, be healed.

Bertice Berry, PhD.


Monday, June 11, 2018

Becoming Mature


On Maturity

I am now a woman of a certain age, but I must admit, I don’t really know what that certain age is. I’m 57, feel closer to 47 and can’t wait to be 67. I love getting older, more specifically, I love maturing.

For some reason, folks have been confusing maturity with aging. Getting older doesn’t mean that one becomes more mature. When people speak of mature adults, they usually mean old; but this is not the true meaning.

To be mature means that you have reached an advanced stage of mental and emotional development. Maturity is defined as one who is stable, sensible, responsible, levelheaded, reliable and dependable.

By now you are thinking of all the grown folks you know who are just not grown.

Now, join me in turning this on yourself. Ouch. I can only speak for myself when I say that as hard as I have worked and as much growth that I have seen; there are still several key areas in my life that can use some maturity.

I’ll spare you the details, but I will tell you this; it’s time we evolve, grow and become all that we can truly be.

I don’t want to be a 67-year-old kid. I’d like to be a wise and mature 57-year old vessel of light.

Be you, be well, be evolving.


Bertice Berry, PhD.

Monday, June 4, 2018

Where are the Adults?

Be the Light


“Where are the grown-ups,” my ninth-grade teacher had asked. He had just come back from his uncle’s funeral. He said that he’d been told that he was one of the pallbearers and his first response was “Where are the adults?” It was then that he realized that he and his cousins were not the next in line; they were at the front of the line.

So where are the adults? I have asked this question a lot lately. I’ve asked it of politicians, corporate, community and spiritual leaders; I’ve asked it of my family and I have asked it of myself.
The answer is simple; I am.

We are the adults and we must be capable, fearless and ready to shine a light on our own ills and fears. We must be the repairers of the breach. We must be the adults.

I am starting with me, in my own house and in my own life. Someone once said, “Adulting is hard.” No kidding and we should have listened when we wanted to be grown before it was time.

Now, it’s time and as adults we should recognize the fact that time is time and our own is finite, but the light we carry inside of us goes on and on. The light grows with each good deed and life we encounter.
So, shine your light; it's ageless.

Be you, be well, be the light.


Bertice Berry, PhD.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Rebooting

Reboot Now

I think my computer is trying to tell me something. This morning while I was struggling to write a long overdue piece, my computer asked if I wanted to reboot now. “Yes, please.” I told it out loud.

It turned itself off and I decided to go find something else that needed to be done. Before I could warm up my legs to move (yes, I do that now,) my computer screen blinked back to life. It looked totally refreshed.

“I wish it could be that easy for me.” I told the screen.

I didn’t use to talk to things, but I find that my things have great answers, like the other day when my dryer told me to clean my filter before each use---anyway, I wish I could turn myself off for a minute and then come back refreshed and new.

Then I heard her voice, not the one from my computer; the one from the other side. It was the voice of my mother telling me my truth.

“You can, and you should. You've had a job since you were twelve." She reminds me.
"You have always been so busy being busy. When you have to go to work; you work. When you are not at work; you fear not working, so you create work and work at that. Turn all of that off,” she said.

And now you see why I talk to things, because listening to the ancestors is far too accurate for someone who prides herself on being in control.

Just when I gave in to the idea of rebooting, my daughter walked in to tell me about work that needed to be worked, so I looked down at my knees and I told them to come on.

Then, I hear my mother again. This time she’s sitting next to me when she says, “Even iron wears out.”

Be you, be well, be rebooting.


Bertice Berry, PhD.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Stop and See the Love

Stop and See the Love


 My life moves rather fast. If I’m not careful, I could miss all the instances of love that are everywhere waiting for me to just notice.

On Easter Sunday, I went from Savannah, Georgia to Southern Utah.
I could feel bad about not being at my own church on Easter Sunday, but then I’d be denying the power of that evening mass the night before, which left me feeling even more connected to all that is. I’d also miss the power of Love in the beautiful mountains in Utah, complete with caribou sighting. 
Love, like God is everywhere.

I could complain about missing my 2-year-old granddaughter’s Easter egg hunt, where she’d, for the first time, find her own eggs. But if I did, I’d be missing all the love that came from my daughter, who after working late, got up to take her niece to that hunt. She sent pictures and shared wonderful stories of joy and love that was extended to my granddaughter who was a tad slower than the older kids. Those faster kids turned around and emptied their baskets to Alayna. 
Love is everywhere.

I could complain about two flights and a 3-hour car ride, but then I’d have to forget the words of my mother, who was born 100 years ago. To her, all travel was “still faster than the pony express.” She’d marvel at how far I’d gone in the same day.
 Love never leaves; like our ancestors, it’s still with us and is everywhere.

I could be bothered by the fact that I’m not in a big hotel, one that comes with room service; but if I did, there would be something wrong with me. I’m in a beautifully cozy executive suite. The hosts filled my refrigerator with vegan meals and treats that I couldn’t have gotten from any room service menu. 
Love is in this room and it’s everywhere.

I could complain about not being with my family, but then I’d miss the love of the strangers I met on my journey. Love was in the joyful announcement of the flight attendant who told me that they all loved my work. It was in the driver who made sure that I was comfortable and told me that I could have as many stops as I needed.

There was love in the passenger who sat next to me on the flight. He didn’t speak the entire four hours, but when it was time to go, he asked which bag mine was, and lovingly got it down for me.

Stop and see the love. It’s always there, but when you complain, you miss it.

Be you Be Well, Be Loved


Bertice Berry, PhD