Marshall Ramsey

A few years ago, I took my boys to the Delta. One was reading The Help for school and the other was learning to play the guitar, so I figured a trip to The B.B. King Museum in Indianola and then to Greenwood would be just the ticket.

I wasn’t wrong.

I love the B.B. King museum. Not only do you get a good grasp on what made the legend, you also understand Blues’ origin. How the the thorny bush of pain and despair of racism and poverty in the Delta gave birth to the beautiful flower of music. When people go through trauma, their stories must be heard and released into the world. The Blues did just that.

To use another metaphor, I’ve always found telling stories to be like how an oyster deals with an irritant. When a piece of sand gets wedged into the oyster, the oyster covers it with layer after layer of nacre, the material lining the oyster shell. Eventually, you get a precious pearl and the pain is relieved.

B.B. King , like so many Mississippi musicians, authors and artists, created beauty from pain.

Our stories, music and art are our pearls of wisdom. And yes, sometimes art does make you uncomfortable.

I guess that‘s what worries me the most about about the latest rage (but not new) trend of book banning. When you suppress stories or the government tries to ban viewpoints, you are suppressing people’s stories. If something bothers you, don’t read it. But to deny others a voice and a chance to be heard — well, that is telling them they don’t matter.

I may not agree with you, but I’ll listen — well, most of the time. Sometimes, I even tune myself out.

I am grateful I live in Mississippi. Our problems make beautiful pearls. We are a land of storytellers, artists and musicians. That is our superpower. That is what makes this place special. My personal vow is to become a better observer and listener. Because I know that being curious is the path to growth.

You’re snoozing on a flight. The plane’s autopilot is taking you safely to your destination.

A sudden jolt wakes you up! The fasten-seat belt light dings as you look out the window. Storm clouds angrily boil as turbulence tosses the plane around like a ping pong ball in a tornado. A particularly hard jolt makes the plane groan — the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling! Screams mixed in with prayers ricochet throughout the cabin. Fear grips you — you wish you could self-medicate with the little bottles of booze the flight attendant was handing out. The plane begins to yaw to the right and starts to nose down. You look up and see the cabin door open — both pilots are incapacitated. Fear continues to keep you anchored in your seat.

The autopilot, which had not been programmed for this situation, is no longer doing it’s job. And while fear seductively tells you to just do nothing, you look around and see people you love. You take a deep breath, unbuckle your seatbelt and head to the cockpit. You find courage when you turn your attention outward, not inward.

Love pushes you forward.

Once in the cockpit, you move the pilot to the jump set and then sit behind the controls. There are so many buttons! You have no idea how to land a plane! You put on the radio and call for help, “Mayday! Mayday”

A calm, comforting voice comes into your ear. The flight controller, a pilot who knows how help you land this plane, starts to guide you through the switches and procedures. You get control of the plane and get it through the storm and then below 10,000 feet. The controller then helps you line up on the runway and safely bring your craft to Earth. You have not only changed your own destiny, but you have also made a difference in the lives of your fellow passengers — thanks to the friendly voice who guided you through the storm.

Yeah, I’m talking about mental health. We’ve all been on a bumpy flight lately and our autopilots aren’t working as well as they should. Don’t be afraid to seek out a friendly voice to help guide you through any storms you’re going through. Your fellow passengers will be glad you did.