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

Honor and Respect to the Good Sister Maggie

As always, many thoughts and a number of significant happenings, yet I haven't posted a thing since the fall.

Most significant was the passing of my sharp dressing/gun totin'/straight-talking/"Cadillac-steerin' it"/fisherwoman and church musician grandmother, the Good Sister Maggie Lee Simpson.

It's an understatement to say that my grandma was (is) one of the people who has most profoundly inspired me. She was of those women who lived her life as she "damn well pleased." Grandma's spirit was the sort that Alice had in mind when she conceived Shug Avery and Sophia for the Color Purple. And I can envision my grandma composing, in the privacy of her own heart, her own version of the "Gospel According to Shug" as proclaimed in The Temple of My Familiar.

I'll be recalling grandma's life a little here and a little there as time permits, so please, stay tuned.

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.

Blues, Jazz and R&B: American Roots Music

Turkish instruments from the Yurdan Online Ethnic Music Store

Earlier this year on the Grammy Awards, as they honored various elders who have passed on. Ali Farka Toure and Ertegun were two.

Then, last night PBS broadcast documentary titled Atlantic Records: The House that Ahmet Built about the Turkish-American founder of one of the biggest record labels in United States history. The story was so interesting that I was up 'til 2 a.m. (okay...not just because of the film. I had to clean the kitchen afterward. I've gotta stop staying up so late. But that's beside the point.)

Learning about Ertegun's sacred drift of body and spirit along the path of music was fascinating. And the journey was guided by love, a love of roots blues and jazz. One must also pay attention to how the historical-political, artistic strands of his family history came together to in this man to form this vision and passion. He was no saint, and who can truly claim to be, but was definitely influenced by way of the mystic.

This statement of his talks about living a fiery life fueled by passion...

"I think it's better to burn out than to fade away... it's better to live out your days being very, very active - even if it destroys you - than to quietly... disappear.... At my age, why do you think I'm still here struggling with all the problems of this company- because I don't want to fade away."

Compare it to how such inner fire is connected to the idea of spiritual alchemy/transformation.

If you're interested in more, this article captures the gist of the film. (And be looking out for the quote where he ties together Ray Charles, Carl Jung and the unconsious. I think Ertegun felt this way about all honest contributions to Soul music.):

PBS American Masters: Ahmet Ertegun

Imago

Minnie Evans image http://www.folkstreams.net/film,71

An imago is a very deeply charged image. An image becomes an imago when it activates an archetypal energy field and thereby touches on not just this present occasion but activates our whole history as well. ~Curlee Raven Holton, artist & professor

Looking up the varying definitions of "imago," I found that most references relate the term to the development of insects or, on the opposite end, an idealized vision that one may hold of a parent. Beats me what common ground lies between these two, but whatever.

Many months back, I saw the Curlee Raven quote at an art exhibition that featured the work of a woman named Robin Holder. The idea had a pull that called me to jot it down, yet it took me until today-- as I went about arranging baby's toys and clothes and weeding through the tons of paper I tend to accumulate (usually always with the intention of sharing) to frame it with these gathered thoughts. I'm taking this moment while baby boy naps on the floor nearby to put it here, where it belongs, hoping that some of you friends will think to yourselves and talk to me and one another about the images that really mean something to you.

There are a number of visual artists that I feel are crafting important and beautiful work of the sort that Professor Raven speaks of. Sankofa kind of work that embodies clear knowledge of history and which also gleams with faith in and hope for the future. This kind of work is intimately connected the expanse of heaven and the deep recesses of earth by a starry bridge called dreams. Natural dreams that descend upon clean minds and open souls...

The best Haitian art has this kind of spirit. Renee Stout with her clever Madame Ching and Fatima Mayfield personas, too. Whitfield Lovell is also coming to mind, as are the departed John Biggers and Minnie Evans, Faith Ringgold and Bettye Saar. And then, I'm thinking of a recent issue of the International Review of African American Art; it featured the collection of Samella Lewis. Thumbing through those pages and being reminded of the aesthetics of some of the art from thirty, forty or more years ago...wow!

Surely there are many more that I could mention. But since Little Mr. Son-shine is taking his after-breakfast nap and I've yet to get showered and dressed for the day, I'd best get on and use my time wisely.

Catch you in another post.

Sacred Water

Image from Shinto and Jinja website

[One of pure-heart] will be like a tree planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers. ~Psalm 1:3


As the saying goes, "Where there is water, there is life. " Certainly, our physical life begins with us floating in the waters of the wombs of our mothers before our feet ever touch Earth's dry land. As I think about the struggle that we all must endure to remain in balance another proverb-- African in origin, I think-- comes to mind: "Where there is mud, there's water." I take this to mean that even in the messiest of situations there is the opportunity to grow. Before this can happen, though, we must point our divining rod into the direction of the Source. Set out on a sojourn to get to the hammam, or better yet, the Great Stream. The place where the soul thirsty for purification and rebirth can go to be cleansed. This is one of the reasons that the idea of river baptisms, especially ones of the old south, are beautiful to me. (It made me happy to learn that one of my relatives, Aunt Ora Lee, proudly recalled being baptised in the Guadalupe River near Victoria, Texas.)

In any case, listening to the radio yesterday, I heard a Jewish-Canadian neuroscientist and author named Esther Sternberg speaking about her book The Balance Within: The Science Connecting Health and Emotions. The main idea that she brought forward was that at some point there was a break between the once-unified domains of science and spirituality and that the people of today are slowly accepting that the split can (and must) be mended. Her outlook could not be compactly fit into the New Age category; instead her philosophy sounded as if it were inclined toward osteopathy.

Another of the profound, yet simple things she said was that in ancient times, healing temples or sanctuaries were usually built beside fresh water sources with sloping banks. The slope made it so that people who were too ill to immerse themselves could be eased in with the help of others. A beautiful vision. During her interview Dr. Sternberg spoke often of Asklepios, the Greek god of healing (known in Egypt as Imhotep, to whom temples were dedicated in Memphis, on the west bank of the Nile River.) During the writing of her book and the healing of her body from painful arthritis, Dr. Sternberg said that she visited Greece. One of the things she did while there was visit one of Asklepios' shrines.

She did not imply that the water in and of itself had any magical properties. Simply, the idea was that something unexplainable happened-- an awareness sparked or epiphany occurred. A Jungian kind of thing, I suppose. As a result, she was able to access a power that helped move her toward healing. (Another resonant point that she mentioned was that there is a center of the brain reserved for the meditative, read: hypnotic or trance, state. This made me think of Eknath Eswaran continually pointing out the importance of the personal mantra)

As I type, another image comes to mind is that of the master teacher Yeshua/Issa/Jesus taking a moment during his secret Passover feast to bathe the feet of his disciples. Most of the time we think of this gesture as being a lesson in selfless service, humility. Could He also have been saying, "There's more where this came from." In the same way that he was but a small sample (the Son) drawn from the vast Source (the great Mother-Father), the small bowl of water that He used to perform His act of outward purification was a sample of the guaranteed mind-body-spirit healing available to the disciples if they continued to walk along what Buddhists refer to as the Enlightened Path or The Way?

Green Collar Jobs

Yesterday while driving and running errands I was listening to News and Notes on one of the NPR stations and heard an interview with a man named Van Jones who works with the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights in Cali's Bay Area. His interview centered around a Green Collar Jobs bill that he and some others are working to push through Congress. If accepted, it will allot money to teach the poor/working class about environmentalism and train the people to work in the "green" jobs sector. He raised some really interesting points about the feasibility of the idea and the way that companies are choosing to send the majority of manual labor, blue collar jobs (once avenues that people of color took to escape poverty) to various overseas countries. Since green collar jobs are being phased out and there is such a push for all things "organic," "sustainable" and "eco-friendly"-- especially on the West Coast of the U.S. -- green jobs can occupy the place that blue collar jobs once did.

VJ also spoke about the ways that environmentalism has typically been the domain of the privileged and that they often have goals that seem abstract or remote to people who have concrete economic and health concerns related to the here and now (cuz it's all about the money, ain't a damn thing funny...). When environmentalism is "broken down," spoken about plainly (solar panels as a way to decrease grandma's electric bill, cleaning up the air so that little sis won't have to walk around with an inhaler in her pocket) it opens environmentalism up to a wider audience of people willing to work toward its ends.

Of course, I must say that this attempt to rally such interest is ironic being that most "people of color" are descended from ones for whom there was no name given to environmentalism; it was simply a way of life. Think of truck gardens from back in the day. Or Alice Walker's observations in In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens about rose bushes sprucing up the weathered rural shacks. Even recently it was common to pass by housing projects and be uplifted by the sight of the container garden of a ghetto grandmama (herself a vibrant trans-PLANT from some country locale). And Latinos are still, by and large, landscapers and gardeners and migrant workers. In my neighborhood, many Latino families keep beautiful home gardens. As a matter of fact, just before I gave birth last year, I begged/bought a few tall sunflower stalks (my Oxum side couldn't help herself) from a Mexican family whose yard was filled from one end to the other with them.

In any event, there are lots of little (actually major) sidebars and environmental justice corollaries to this Green Jobs bill, the most obvious and exciting being that such training would be a benefit to the overall health of the workers, their (our) families and communities. Rather than take any more detours allow me to direct you to this Green Options Interview .

(Housing project image at top from The Welcome Project website)

Afro-Latinos

The Miami Herald recently published a gorgeous multimedia project on blacks in Latin America.

On Silence

As I hustle to align the physical, mental and spiritual aspects of my life to channel all of the Power that I possibly can, to become one who is "fully realized" I think about what is written in Ecclesiastes 3:1 (and certainly elsewhere): there's a time for everything.

Dormancy must eventually tip its hat to fruition. As well, there is a time to speak and be heard and a time to do the opposite.

Common sense, huh (?) yet still things we/I need to often be reminded of. Some Thoughts on Silence and When the Pause is Part of the Process are two pieces that drive this point home.

These Shoes Were Made for...

The more technology invades our lives with impersonal, colorless and "branded" objects, the more value we find in beautiful [handmade wearable art]. In ways we can't always describe, we morn the loss of beauty and sensuousness in a merely functional world. It takes a long time [to make these objects] and the result is something that only time can deliver. ~Tony Cohan in Mexican Textiles: Spirit and Style

Latina magazine recently had a sidebar about a young entrepreneur named Kerry Clarkson Valdivia who commissions Peruvian cobblers to bring to make her line of shoes ideas.

Those of you who visit the link will see that she has some refreshing things to say about what inspired her entre into the fashion industry. For a young woman in her early twenties, she has a keen understanding, it seems, of the appeal of things exotic or unique-- not to mention the price tag that can be put on items possessing these attributes.

This should make folk think a little about how all things created--musical forms, foods, textiles, housewares--have meaning beyond their outer "skins." For example, the African ceremonial mask or Central American rebozo has virtually no meaning if the buyer of it does not respect the culture, traditions and belief systems that gave life to the product. Enduring art is fused, like a Siamese twin, to the handed-down ways that people communicate with God. To borrow a phrase: To love the fruit, we must respect the roots.

(Image copyright J. Watson-Aifah, 2005)

Peace to Maestre Diz

Whether in the form of odes that find their way into some roots-style sambas in Brazil, las ofrendas of Mexico or so many of the other traditional arts, those with souls tied to Latin America have gilded the act of remembering. They are devoted to honoring the living family and remembering the kinfolk hidden behind the veil (Was it Sandra Cisneros who said that for Mexicans the dead aren't gone, they just live--so to speak-- in the next room?). And such a respect there is for teachers!

What I'm driving at is that I came across this interview with Flora Purim where she makes it a point to mention Dizzy Gillespie. Here's a bit of what she had to say:

"If you ever come to my house, there are pictures of [Diz] all over my walls. In the three years I spent singing with the United Nations Orchestra, he taught me so much... He would sit in the back of [the tour bus] with me for several hours telling life stories about his family and things that happened to him. I loved him not just for [what he taught me about music], but I loved him also because he gave me a lot of insight and spirituality..."

Music Carnivals

"Colors of Music" by Nacera Guerin

Ummm. Luciano and Jill Scott and Les Nubians and the astute yout', Lupe Fiasco that so many are raving about-- all performing today at the UCLA Jazz Reggae Fest . Wish I could teleport to it or something :) . Ah, bem...since I've not yet mastered that fine art, I think baby boy and I might hit the Atlanta Jazz Fest to hear Flora and Airto give us um poco de Brasil and the Escovedo family light it up on percussion.

Matt Lauer in Bhutan

Above image from www.barmatours.com.bt

Above image from www.webwombat.com.au

Recently, I watched a video of Matt Lauer with young (elemetary school-age) monks in the country of Bhutan. He and an American woman very familiar with the culture of Bhutan kept speaking, with some amount of envy and astonishment it seemed, about how "happy," how peaceful the people of that country are. As they commented on this, my mind kept circling back to lessons that Eknath Eswaran, Thich Nhat Hanh and K. K. B. Fu-Kiau teach about how inner peace and contentment start with the individual, extend out into the immediate community and into the nation as a whole. It also spoke to how true education involves training a person to live in such a way that they grow a mature and fully-developed soul. I believe this is why in ancient times as well in some of today's indigenous cultures, "school" is logically connected to the places where spiritual rites occur-- be that in the thick of a forest, in a kiva or in the sanctum of a stained glass temple.

Robert Farris Thompson on Daughters of the Dust

Robert Farris Thompson has some insightful things to say about Julie Dash's old film, Daughters fo the Dust. Check out this video clip as well as this fairly new interview with the filmmaker.

If Only...

A friend let me hear Back to Black by Amy Winehouse, and all I could do was shake my head in astonished appreciation. DAMN, can the woman SANG. The tones, the inflections, the utter soul-- I have not heard a voice like hers in many a day. Reminds me a little of one of my favorites, Dinah, and a little of Billie. The thing is, I don't care much at all for Sister Amy's lyrics.

Imagine her teaming with John Mayer, whom I am just as much astounded by and whose songwriting is his especially delicious gift to anyone who takes a moment to listen.


To paraphrase Sister Tanya Stephens: we nuh ready fe that yet!

Rio Carnaval 2007

Image from http://www.beija-flor.com.br/por/01-ABeijaFlor/quadra/quadra_conteudo.htm

Congratulations to the samba school Beija Flor for their victory in this year's Carnaval competition.

Remembering Papa Ed

It has been months since Ed Bradley joined the Great Congregation of Ancestors. A true papi chulo (!!!) and renaissance man, let's take a moment to remember him.

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)

Zion in a Vision: Dream Piece

A scroll on which words are arranged in the shape of a Moorish/Gothic pointy-topped church archway. Around the periphery of this congregation of words is a velvety, dark, star studded sky. In the center of the words are three Rasta-Ethiopian angel singers, not still-life like the words and the stars, but animated, dancing. They are women who look kind of like the I-Threes. They repeat with conviction, " I salute you, Jah." Later brought to mind Garnett Silk song, Zion in a Vision and also big idea, "Zion is a state of mind," reaching toward deep peace within.

Image from http://www.spanishliving.com/regional/arts/artists/art_Rondle.php

Holding On, Letting Go

I've heard people say that having a baby is akin to seeing your heart walk around outside your body. This implies that our children are one of the few things intimately and profoundly ours.
Then there's the Zen-like thing that Sweet Honey in the Rock has sung about: Our children are not our children. Hard pill to swallow, but true that.

I do see my son as the baby that I'm presently responsible for caring for. I am also looking down the road and sending a "prayer covering" to ensure that he becomes a make-it-happen kind of man of vision, confidence, love and humility. I want him to explore both the outer world and the interior of his own mind and soul. Already, my baby boy is well on his way.

As so many made sure to remind me during pregnancy and just after his birth, he's growing so fast! I love to see how strong, determined and alert he is. Always has been. Just that now he's getting coordinated enough to show it. As amazed and proud as I am to see him blossom-- can I be real?-- I hope that the man that he becomes has the same care and concern for his mama as his mama does for him. So, looks like I have the potential to be one of those clingy, pathetic types of mamas. God help us both!

I was watching a program on The Learning Channel last night where a 30-something woman and her silver-haired husband were playing with their infant and marveling at how big he'd gotten in such a short time. This made the woman want to have another baby. I know that feeling. Most women know that tugging kind of urge that starts in some nether-region of the brain and tugs on the heart strings and the fallopian tubes and comes when they see a pregnant woman or a young woman with a trail of young'uns traipsing behind. But even if one has twenty children, at some point all of them are going to grow. And go. What this speaks to is the need for us as parents, as humans, as developing souls to work on lessening our urge to cling, dealing with our fears of being alone. But when we get caught up on our spiritual work we're supposed to discover that we're never really alone, right?

So, now: How can we both nurture and resist our urge to be overprotective, encourage our children to honor their roots, origins and family and yet encourage step confidently out into the world? How do we help them to find their way to the wellspring of power within and gain a sense of community responsibility and inter-dependence?

Here's what one woman has to say:
So The Torah Is a Parenting Guide?