MLK

 mlk

How could I let this day go by without saying something about my childhood hero and ancestral inspiration for all of my life?

Many folks don’t understand that, in spite of all that he may not have done and been, I am still a loving supporter of Barack Obama. Why? The answer is simple. He is fulfilling at least a small part of MLK’s dream, simply by being who and where he is. Beyond that, he is providing the young generations of African Americans with a role model. He gives them back some bit of hope that generations before them had long since lost.

I grew up in the 60’s with the Viet Nam war and the Civil Rights movement.  The women’s movement was also taking form, as well as widespread coverage of the many various demonstrations and protests that were going on around those causes.  I was raised by activists. My two great aunties who raised me had been instrumental in the eradication of the Klan influence in Colorado Springs during the 1940’s and 1950’s. I grew up knowing that it was my right and duty to address the wrongs that I saw in our world.  I have never lost this part of me, and I’m grateful to my aunties for giving it to me.

I would say that today, I am most grateful to MLK Jr. for being a force in the world I grew up in. I was 13 when he was assassinated, and like many people of color of that time, I mourned his death, along with my family.  I have often wondered throughout my life, how might things in our world have been different if he’d have lived? Would he have been behind Same sex unions? Wouldn’t he have been so very proud to know that we have a Black president? What causes would he have been championing now? He was cut down, just as he had started to lodge protests about the war in Viet Nam, how would he have seen the wars this country has been involved in since then? Or simply, how might things have been different had he lived?

We can speculate, but sadly, we will never know what things he would have done, and how the  history would have played out had he lived. I do know this, however, the world is a much better place for his having walked in it. He paved the way for Barack Obama and all the other Black people who have risen to high positions. I feel grateful that I was able to get a Master’s degree, I feel that doors were opened to me that may not have opened before. I have great hope for my children, and I know that they have many more opportunities than even I had.

I will say only this in closing, I am sincerely and truly grateful that Martin Luther King Jr.  was in the world, even if his time was tragically cut short. I am grateful for the hope he has given to me and generations after me. I am grateful that he lived.

Poetry–Joy Harjo

Poetry has always been healing for me. When I was young, it was the thing that I resorted to for comfort–to get my feelings out, to feel sane again, and as safe as a young African American girl could feel in this culture. I would write in my room, alone, in my own special notebook, and I always felt so good when I’d write something I thought was especially wonderful.

A few years ago, I chose to go on what I called a moratorium. I read nothing but works by people of color, it has continued until today–that was the year 2000. It has been a rich experience for me to find new voices, to read the hearts and spirits of the people who look like me. Today, I will end  this writing with a lovely poem by Joy Harjo that a friend shared with me. It is time for me to be fearless…

I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don’t know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.
You are not my blood anymore.
I give you back to the soldiers
who burned down my house, beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.
I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.
I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you
I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved.
to be loved, to be loved, fear.
Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.
I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won’t hold you in my hands.
You can’t live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart
But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid
of dying.

Waiting to Inhale

 

A friend of mine and I had lunch the other day. We have been friends and activists together for many years. We were talking about many various things, especially around our acceptance of getting older. She and I are also folks who pay attention to our inner worlds, and notice how we are affected by the ongoing events of the outer world.

It has been, from what we could see, a rough year for many people. It seems that we have been shaken to the core of our beliefs, and have had to question all we are, have been, and wish to be. She was speaking of a young friend who’d recently said that it feels like we are in a place where we have let out all the air in our lungs after what have been strong and fierce battles on many fronts, and that it feels as if we are waiting to inhale.

When I was in my time of learning at Naropa, we were taught meditation practice as a part of our studies in Transpersonal Psychology. During the meditation, our teachers would point out, as part of our breathing in, and breathing out, that there is a moment they call–”the gap”. It is when we have consciously let all of the air out of our lungs, and there are these very few seconds when we were asked to “rest in the gap” before taking the next breath.

It was always amazing to me how often in my life I’d never even thought to stop and think about and feel that part of the experience of breathing. I noticed right away, how there is often a sort of desire to get on with the next breath, and a sort of impatience with the noticing. It felt as if the next breath was a sort of relief when we were finally able to take it. I just tried this exercise while writing this, and noticed that while in that time of the gap, I could actually feel and hear my heart beating.

Those of us who have been really busy over the recent years, feel an actual need to get on with the next thing. To sit and just rest in this gap feels a little foreign. Yet, there is a sort of comfort in it, a time of gathering strength, a time of checking in with self and allowing self to get back into a rhythm that feels natural and strong. As elders, we are not the ones who are expected to remain forever on the front lines, but to step back and rest, say the prayers, call forth the ancestors and pray, and pray. It seems that in the gap, there is plenty of space for prayer, and opening a space for the ancestors to answer…