Two from Rumi

Excerpts from Coleman Barks' translations from the Five Points journal:





SOUL HOUSES

He heals.
He enlivens...
He makes this dying world eternal.
His greatest alchemy is how he undoes the binding
that keeps love from breathing deep.
He loosens the chest...
Be silent now,
say fewer and fewer praise poems.
Let yourself become living poetry.

DISCIPLES

...watch the man beating a rug.
He is not mad at it.
He wants to loosen the layers of dirt.
Ego accumulations are not loosened
with one swat.
Continual work is necessary,
my disciples.
A carpenter saws and chisels a piece of wood
because he knows how he wants to use it...


Above image from Woven Souls Persian Rug image gallery

One Thing Leading to Another

"She gathered All before her/And She made for Them a sign to see..."

Photographer: Margaret Courtney Clarke

Recently, rather than do my class prep work at my job, I decided to do it at the library close to my son's babysitter's house as a change of scene. Given as I am to diversions and daydreaming, I cruised through the periodicals section to see if this particular Dekalb county library subscribed to any cool specialty publications, especially since many of their patrons are East African, Eastern European and South Asian refugees in addition to there being large Caribbean and black southern communities. Even if I didn't happen upon any such literary delicacies, perhaps some of the garden variety American glamor or lifestyle magazines had features worth sampling. (As you've surely figured out by now, I had basically decided to treat myself to a little goof-off time.)

Once I finished scouring the shelves, I settled into an armchair next to a sunny bay window opposite an Ethiopian school boy engrossed in a book on Mars. I had, I'd say, half a dozen pop and ethnic magazines stacked at my feet having pretty much given up any pretense of preparing for class. With the help of my school book French, I haltingly made way through a francophone African magazine to find, not surprisingly, that there's international fascination with Obama. I also learned of the dismissal of Manuela Ramin Osmundsen, Norway's first black cabinet member; found out about a few new musicians and got the scoop on old vets like Youssou N'Dour and Manu Dibango.

After this I switched gears to African American mags, reading up New York's new governor, David Alexander Patterson; Nicole Mitchell's Xenogenesis Suite, the flutist's tribute to Octavia Butler; and Vanessa Williams-- someone whose resilience I've long admired-- being really frank about divorce, family, career, health, aging. For the latter, her weapons were a touch of botox blended with yoga. Though I found it funny, I ain't gonna begrudge the sister for being honest with her stuff. (Kudos to Melanie Johnson Rice; she's doing a wonderful job of of upholding the legacy entrusted to her by her father, both appealing to its traditional audience and broadening its scope by including points of international interest.)

Of biggest interest was one of the cultural magazines which featured an extensive listing of exhibits around the world. A few that caught my eye were Inscribing Meaning: Writing + Graphic Systems in African Art, Art of Being Tuareg: Sahara Nomads in a Modern World, and Pharaohs, Queens and Goddesses . Going on a virtual tour of these exhibits led me to the Jewish feminist Judy Chicago's majestic installation The Dinner Party and this passage:

And She gathered All before Her
And She made for Them a sign to see
And lo They saw a vision
From this day forth
Like to like in All things
And then all that divided Them merged
And then Everywhere was Eden once again

I love that these powerful words tell of how those who submit to inner vision--healers/artists of various stripes-- are in prime position to be harbingers of a better day.

Not only does it turn out that the Dinner Party could add a lovely dimension to a project that I'm working on, but I found the above incantation to be an ensouling baptism (Ensouling! What a word. Kind of like inspiring. "Only soooo much better than that!" To borrow a soundbite from Reese Witherspoon and Legally Blonde ;D )

Chicago's words strike the same chords as does the rememberance of Isis' mythical journey to gather the scattered pieces of her Beloved to make him whole again. The women Alice Walker writes about in The Temple of My Familiar and Possessing the Secret of Joy. Ntozake Shange's reminder in Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo that "Creation is everything you do. Make something!" The healing and circle of sisters (Yam, Corn, Rice and Plantain sisters sending telepathic calls to one another, party line style) that Toni Cade Bambara writes of in The Salteaters. And finally, Julia Cameron urging in the Artist's Way to bear in mind that it's not up to the maker of the work to stand in judgement of said work. The maker's job is simply to be sincere, devoted and diligent in what (s)he does and once the job is done, share the harvest.

Dark Madonna on the Big Screen

"Our age has a violent face; we feel the need of somebody like [Precious] Ramotswe who offers forgiveness rather than confrontation and recrimination. Such people are there; we need only give them the space to breathe, the chance to talk to us."

It was refreshing to read the Scottish author, Alexander McCall Smith's intention in creating the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series (see BBC's "A Few Words from Alexander McCall Smith"). Smith's story is about a woman from Botswana who loves her self, her life, her people. She is full figured, smart, industrious and incidentally, her name is Precious. She could be the African sister-cousin to mystery writer/community activist Barbara Neely's character Blanche White.

But getting back to AMS, I think that Jung's archetypal Dark Madonna has been talking to the chap and that he's symbolically amplifying her whispered voice for others to hear and be comforted by. How good it is when artists use their super-powers (smile) to awaken hope, possibility and laughter.

And of course, I can't wait to see Jill Scott, Idris Elba, Anika Noni Rose and the colors of the Continent come alive in the recently-made film!

My Soul Says Yes (to the MFA)

I've been thinking about whether or not it is wise to take on the responsibility of the MFA program that I applied to. Getting cold feet I guess, especially considering the cost. One big question that my mind has been asking though is can I afford not to atleast try.

The answer came when I got Round One of my nightly sleep (when I lie down with Jared at his bedtime, I end up drifting off and then wake up between midnight and two a.m., stay up for an hour or so reading, tidying, blogging, e-mail checking, self-tending or otherwise piddlin'...)

Anyhow, questions about security versus pursuing dreams are currently at the front of the line in my mind. Like a telegram response, one of my dreams delivered this: I was in a library researching Sally Hemings and Thomas Jefferson. I was so absorbed in the research that I went one level beyond my dream and stepped into the past. Kind of like a trip to Colonial Williamsburg, my research was my time shuttle. When I found myself back in the modern era I was back at the library and had collected a bunch of thin strips of paper (research fragments) that I had stacked and was making neat and organized.

For some reason, in order to go any further with my work and return to the library, I had to get permission from one of the staff members. This made me indignant, but I did as required and continued working (and being delighted by the process) and waiting. Waiting for the yes or no answer.

Yes! Remember that down-at-the-creek scene in the movie version of the Color Purple where a choir and the voice of Tata Vega as Shug Avery sing the prelude "Maybe God is Trying to Tell You Something"? Yes. That's what my mind is repeating now. "Trust yourself and know that it's okay to move forward with your dream/plan/ambition. You have what you need to put the tool to use once it is placed in your hands." This is the answer that came. Now I'm feeling a little like Moses and Jonah: do I really have the courage to listen and act?

Book Note: I'm Every Woman

One of the many books currently competing for space amidst the papers, baby toys and whatnot beside my bed is I'm Every Woman: Remixed Stories of Marriage, Motherhood and Work by Lonnae O'Neal Parker.

The title sounds scholarly-- and at present my mind is generally saying pass on anything promising charts, tables and figures-- but I pulled it from the campus stacks anyway. It found its way into my bag mainly because I heard Chaka Khan's loud, familiar, beautiful voice pulling me to see what was inside.

Happily, it is full of first-person recollections fattened with some interviews and historical tidbits. Mostly it reads like a combo of journal entries turned editorial. I'm enjoying it pretty well and find that the author and I have a similar way of seeing and feeling. (Her commentary on hip-hop is very much on point, completely resonant. )


The book centers, for the most part, around what the Caribbean writer Merle Hodge once said in an interview: "They didn't ship all of us over here to keep house." Clarified, black women's balancing of home, family and work is made challenging by a unique set of realities (And--
ahem-- do excuse me, but the librarian in me can't resist giving a citation: "We Are All Activists: An Interview with Merle Hodge," Callaloo, Autumn 1989, p. 656)



With all that being true, and recognizing that this little fact of history has great bearing on the present time and that Home is amongst the most sacred of places, how do women of color set about achieving harmony in the places that matter-- in our hearts, heads and domestic spaces?

I appreciate the way that I'm Every Woman has strung together strands of personal history, humor, history and social commentary. It would be a good complement to books like bell hooks' Sisters of the Yam and the Double Stitch: Black Women Write about Mothers and Daughters anthology.

Mother Goddess Image above from http://www.astrologycom.com/mothersday.html

That Old Black (Literary) Magic

During the Christmas that I was pregnant, my mother bought me the book African American Writers: Portraits and Visions by Lynda Koolish. Recently, while doing my ongoing research on Maud Cuney-Hare, I happened upon this recorded interview with Koolish.

Sarava, Old New Orleans

The memory of things gone is important... Things like old folks singing in the moonlight in the back yard on a hot night or something said long ago. --Louis Armstrong

...and a few word sketches, "old-time stories," in which some of the heart & spirit of the place is preserved:

The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories by Alice Dunbar Nelson (my fav is "The Praline Woman")

He's The Prettiest: A Tribute To Big Chief Allison "Tootie" Montana's 50 Years Of Mardi Gras Indian Suiting (be sure to scroll down and see the pics)