So, I’ve been AWOL
since Utah. I’ll start with a brief explanation / excuse for my absence, but I
don’t want to dwell because I have something better to talk about as my
re-entry, re-awakening post. The spirituals.
To get right to the
(first, but less important) point: I spent my free time during the last month
totally changing my study. I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been suffering from
a bad case of cabin fever, and I finally realized that a large part of the
problem was my study. First, the room is sort of small and doesn’t get much
light. And then there was the issue of my desk. Because of its size and configuration,
I sat with my back to the window. For someone who loves the outdoors, this is
not a good thing. And with the desk filling a sizeable chunk of the middle of
the room, I felt like I was trapped in a tiny corral made of heavy oak, facing
the darkness and mumbling to myself.
So I decided to
change my furniture, which turned out to be a major undertaking. And that, it turns
out, consumed my time, my energy, and apparently my mind for several weeks. But
it paid off. I ended up with a glass desk that seems to take up no space
compared to the old oak one, and its configuration has me facing the window. I believe
the days of sitting in a corral with my back to the window are over. And I am
ready to resume my rambling blogging ways.
Then, lo and behold,
just as this mega-project wound down, the inspiration for my “re-awakening”
blog came in the form of a conference my partner and I attended this past
weekend.
The Spirituals Project is a non-profit organization founded in 1998 by a psychology
professor (with a fabulous tenor voice) at the University of Denver, Dr. Arthur Jones. Over the years, the initially small program has grown in
size and scope and now has an expansive mission: “the preservation and
revitalization of the music and teachings (including especially the social
justice teachings) of the songs commonly known as ‘spirituals,’ created and
first sung by enslaved African women and men in America in the 18th and 19th
centuries.” I first learned about the Spirituals Project from my partner, who
had interviewed Art Jones as part of a documentary she made on heterosexual allies
who took a stand against Amendment 2. She recommended Jones’ book, Wade in the Water: The Wisdom of the Spirituals, but I let it slide from my reading list. Later, I heard
the Spirituals Project choir perform, and I was reminded again that I really wanted to
learn more—both about the spirituals as a musical genre and about the “wisdom”
they carry. Again, I let it slip.
And then, several months ago, we learned about (and quickly signed up for) this multi-day
conference on the spirituals. The promise of several days’ immersion in
learning about the spirituals sounded wonderful. And it was. The
weekend was full of workshops and performances, so I'll just mention a few highlights:
The
first night opened with a performance by Sankofa, a small ensemble of the
Spirituals Project choir. It closed with a poem sung/read by the Spirituals
Project’s poet in residence, Dee Galloway. The poem, “They Slice the Air,” was a moving elegy to the
spirituals and all they have meant over the centuries. Click here for a (shaky, amateur, but authentic) video of Dee
Galloway performing the poem at the conference. A few lines:
As they
spill from the holds of the ships …
Onto
the shores of this new world
They
are called to bear the burdens
To bear
the lash
To bear
witness
To the
squalling birth of this new world …
And as
they bear the burdens and bear the lash
This strong new nation bears witness …
They witness
with the songs carried with them in the holds.
And
again the songs shift and change
To become
the sorrow songs
The
sorrow songs that slice the air.
Later
in the conference, Dr. Vincent Harding, an educator and a long-time leader and “encourager” of
the Freedom movement (the term he prefers to the “civil rights movement”) led a
remarkable workshop on the role of the spirituals in the Freedom movement. He
opened the session by talking about how the spirituals, sung by generation
after generation after generation of people, always share in the same energy—the
wisdom, the strength, and the yearning of generations before, back to “the
ancestors” who first sang them. With that framework, he then invited us to sing
along, to join in the generations-long community of people who have used these
songs to gain strength, to give testimony, to carry coded messages, to ease
sorrow. "Wade in the water," "Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom," "Ain't gonna let nobody turn me around."
And with that framing, I found myself experiencing songs that I’ve often heard and sung before in a whole new way. I understood more deeply the power this music has carried across the years, the layers of meaning and passion it bore for people who were enslaved, yet sang "ain't no harm to keep your mind stayed on freedom." And I felt on a new level how it must have energized and sustained folks as they left community meetings in the churches in the 1960s South to face dogs, truncheons, fire hoses, and jail—or worse. When we all stood to sing “We Shall Overcome,” crossing arms to hold hands, as is the tradition with this song, I doubt there was a dry eye in the room. Most of these folks have probably sung this song scores of times before. But in this setting, with Dr. Harding’s guidance, I, at least, sang it with a new level of consciousness.
And with that framing, I found myself experiencing songs that I’ve often heard and sung before in a whole new way. I understood more deeply the power this music has carried across the years, the layers of meaning and passion it bore for people who were enslaved, yet sang "ain't no harm to keep your mind stayed on freedom." And I felt on a new level how it must have energized and sustained folks as they left community meetings in the churches in the 1960s South to face dogs, truncheons, fire hoses, and jail—or worse. When we all stood to sing “We Shall Overcome,” crossing arms to hold hands, as is the tradition with this song, I doubt there was a dry eye in the room. Most of these folks have probably sung this song scores of times before. But in this setting, with Dr. Harding’s guidance, I, at least, sang it with a new level of consciousness.
The last
event of the conference featured a talk and poetry reading—including a poem
written for the conference—by Nikki Giovani, a brilliant and wonderfully irreverent poet and activist.
And then the conference closed, fittingly, with music by members of the Spirituals Project
choir. I left feeling re-awakened.
I
realize it has been nearly two decades since my partner first talked to me
about Art Jones’ book. I’ve decided not to let it slide from my list again. I’ve
asked to borrow her copy to take along for reading material during breaks in my
astrophysics course in New York next week.
Stay
tuned for more on the wisdom of the spirituals per Dr. Art Jones and on the
origins of the universe per Dr. Michelle Thaller.
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