Confronted by Three Future Tellers
February 28, 2007
Earlier this morning I had the pleasure of performing for a group of elementary school children in one of the most beautiful scenic areas in
Once I turned around and made it to the school everything went fine. Don’t worry, I wasn’t late. I always allot more time than is actually needed to get where I need to go. I don’t like rushing. I’m probably one of the slow drivers that irritate the heck out of people. Well, I was able to unload all my gear near the performance area. From the moment of my arrival I was greeted with warm smiles and pleasant “Good Mornings.” Everyone was extremely helpful.
The performances went great. The first group was 4th and 5th graders. I like this age group because you can toy with metaphors and the nuances of the tale. The second group was k-3rd and they were equally as fun as the first group. At the end of the K-3rd performance, while the students were filing out, I noticed three young men waiting patiently to my right as I spoke with some of the 2nd and 3rd graders. These guys were a little bigger and obviously in the 4th or 5th grade. Once the younger children had exited, these three young men stepped in front of me and handed me an envelope followed by a proclamation: “We wrote this for you!”
I recognized one of the young men. I had employed him in the telling of the one of the stories to the 4th and 5th grade classes. He was funny. I opened the envelope and read the contents of the letter they had written me.
Apparently, after leaving the 4th and 5th grade assemblies, these three young men went straight to their computers and created the letter I was holding in my hands. As I read the letter I was touched.
Below is a copy of their letter. I think their words say it best. I’ve blacked out the school name and children’s last name for safety reasons. Interesting world we live in today isn’t it?
This is why I do what I do.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Meeting Mary McLeod Bethune
February 27, 2007
February 26, 2007, I was scheduled to perform at
She did this in 1904! A black woman establishing an institution of higher learning in 1904! If you don’t fathom the immense historical relevance of this then there is probably little I can do to convey my excitement at being able to perform at a school named in her honor.
While my anxiety might seem somewhat silly to some, there are those out there who empathize completely.
I felt that, if I am going to a school named in her honor I must do something to represent the integrity, fortitude and intelligence of such a great woman. I did not think in terms of staff, students or teachers. I thought in terms of this woman’s legacy and the opportunities that I have had because of her. If you do not think that you have been affected by this woman’s legacy then you are seriously uninformed. You really must do a little research.
The evening before going to the middle school for the performances I contemplated the music I would play, the stories I would tell and the robes I would wear. I decided that, in the spirit of Mary McLeod Bethune, I should not compromise on any of the aspects of the quality of the performance. I took out my most expensive, colorful robes; I chose music and stories of an historical significance, and than I made sure to go to bed a little earlier than usual so that I could be fully rested. I felt that, on my part, this was but a small, simple gesture in trying to do something to honor this great woman’s memory.
The next day when I arrived at the school I was greeted by my liaison, a beautiful sister named Shauna Harris. She and I actually go back a number of years and this isn’t the first time she’s brought me to a school. We hugged, exchanged pleasantries and she escorted me to the library. It had been a few years since I had seen her but that smile of hers is an unforgettable thing.
Mrs. Jenkins was having a Persian Proverb placed on one of the walls of her library. It read:
“He who knows not and knows not that he knows not is a fool. He who knows not and knows not is a child, teach him. He who knows and knows not that he knows is asleep, wake him. He who knows and knows that he knows is wise, follow him.”
You may have to read it a couple of times but I’m sure you’ll get it.
Mrs. Jenkins was having this placed on the wall over the entrance of her library in large letters. It struck me that her passion and desire to instill greatness in our youth were the same traits which inspired Mary McLeod Bethune to build her first school. I was standing in the presence of the spirit of Mary McLeod Bethune and I was well aware of it.
The performances went very, very well. I connected with the students of
After the performance I got a chance to spend a little time talking with Shauna and one of the school’s social workers. Two beautiful sisters spending time talking and laughing with me; I love my work.
As I was leaving the school, I stopped to look back at the brick buildings, playgrounds, parking area. I thought to myself: “I bet you Mary McLeod Bethune would be really proud to see what has been done to honor her.”
Although I didn’t get to meet any administrators, principals or other staff members, I got the impression that the structure, discipline and care for the children of this school flows from the top down. I really got the sense during my few hours on campus that all of the adults really cared about their work and weren’t simply collecting paychecks. There was a really strong sense of community in and around this school.
I think Mary McLeod Bethune stated it best when she said, “Invest in the human soul. Who knows, it might be a diamond in the rough.”
This is why I do what I do.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Living the Legacy
February 24, 2007
I recently visited a high school that had been a favorite of mine dating some years back. I hadn’t been to the school in about 4 years or so and was extremely excited to be returning. During the previous years when I was visiting the school, there was a very organized and active population of African-American Students on the campus. Each year that I visited I always tried to bring them something new, something different. One year I brought a griot from Guinea West Africa with me to play music and talk with them about the connections between
Each of those years is indelibly imprinted in my memory.
On the day I was scheduled to appear at the high school it felt like a homecoming. The only difference was that many of these students I had never encountered before. The students whom I had worked with during the previous years have all graduated.
When I got to the school I was greeted with the same warm affectionate smiles and hugs that I remembered from previous years by my liaison, Lynn. This woman is one of those silent beautiful people in our community whose quiet, unassuming work has transformed the lives of so many of our youth.
Lynn had a small cadre of young women working around her, helping to set up the auditorium for my performance. I later found out that these young women were the governing body of their campus’ “Organization of African American Unity.” You know that put a big grin on my face that expands every time I think about it.
These young women were articulate, diligent and well organized. I was pleasantly surprised. You know sometimes what we tend to expect of our youth. I apologize, I often fall victim to making some of the same misguided generalizations about our teen population.
Anyway, the performance went well. The most active participants and people seated in the front rows were the young women of the school. There was one front row that went entirely empty and yes, I made sure to speak on this as symbolic of a journey backwards.
I felt like we opened up a dialogue which I hope that they continue among themselves. I was very happy when Lynn informed me that they were using aspects of the performance for other activities that they had planned for Black History Month.
After the performance I had the opportunity to gather with the young women, take pictures and converse for a few minutes. They are my daughter’s age and I felt a special place in my heart for them. They expressed how they had been conversing among themselves about the lack of an organization to represent their culture on campus. Since there was none, these four young women decided to create something.
Can you see me jumping up and down right about now? Well I am!
These four young women didn’t sit around bemoaning the fact that something didn’t exist, they purposefully and consciously went about making something happen.
They had such humility in telling their story of creating a cultural organization on their campus that it reminded me of being in the presence of some of the great women of our struggle. I tried to express this to them but I’m not sure I was able. I tried to let them know that they are, by doing what they are doing, they are living the legacy of previous generations. I was so excited I think I mixed and jumble my words into incoherent passages. But Lynn knew what I was talking about. She gave me an affirming smile and spoke about how much pride she had in these young women.
When I travel to schools I am always looking for inspiration. These four young women inspired me and I will be talking about them for a long time to come. They officially made
They are why I do what I do
Definitely Do Digress
February 24, 2007
I know this is going to strike many as a bit unorthodox but, one of the most fascinating and useful devices that I ever learned to use in my storytelling, from other griots, was the art of “the digression.” Normally, especially in the West, narrative delivery has a fixed pattern. Words, either read or memorized, are rehearsed and delivered in an expected, acceptable format. For a speaker to deviate from a well organized text or script is tantamount, in many arenas, to a betrayal of audience expectations.
I am forever indebted to the griots with whom I’ve studied for helping me to break away from this clinical structure of oral delivery. When I have given workshops and seminars on this topic you can feel the slight tension in the air as if I’m slaughtering the golden calf. The apprehensions generally encompass the notion that professionalism is in painstakingly preparing and effectively delivering that which you have prepared to deliver. This level of performance or production I liken to the journeyman’s level of the apprenticeship process. At this level the artesian has learned to efficiently manipulate the tools of her trade and utilize her skills to the contented benefit of the client.
There is another level beyond this rote repetition of proficiency. The level beyond this is the mastery of one’s craft. It is not enough to simply become proficient at what you do; you must push beyond the boundaries of experience. This is not done for selfish reasons or to self aggrandize; it is done to more effectively deliver your message to the six senses of each of your listeners and observers.
For the griot, digressing from the performance everyone expects to experience is not a lapse in performance organization or judgment. It is rather a tool applied systematically for a desired effect. A spontaneous or what may appear to be spontaneous; digression from the narrative is really not. The digression is often meant to season the imaginative spirit of your listener, enhance their aural experience and prepare them for something further down the road in your oration.
A master teller can employ these digressions spontaneously, at will and when inspired by occurrences during the assemblage. This improvisation may appear to be spontaneous but it is usually a practice developed over years and years of study and performance in front of countless numbers of people.
Let me give you an example of a simple digression and how it may be used. Let’s say you are telling a story of historical significance and the characters are all very lively. A short digression from this tale might be to interrupt the flow of the story with a smile or chuckle and then share with the audience the thought that just crept into your head. You may artfully digress by drawing comparison and contrast between the period and characters you are telling about with specific contemporary events and equally colorful modern-day personalities. The purpose of such a digression might be to ingrain in the minds of your listeners the parallels between antiquity and contemporary society in such a way that it becomes memorable to them. Fusing the digression with a bit emotional delivery (humor, sadness, anger, etc.) may elicit a subtle visceral response from your listener which can help to mark the experience for them.
The rule is simple: “Definitely Do Digress.”
If you comprehend the method then the madness will be all the more enjoyable to you. I have been in the company of griots who have employed this method to an extreme where the digressions were actually the main content of what they wanted their audience to receive and the core narrative was simply the vehicle for its’ expression.
Word of caution! Anything can be overdone. Be very cautious in your implementation of various aspects of the craft. “This year’s folly can become next year’s foolishness.”
The trick to learning to employ digression is to overcome whatever preconceived notions you may have about what a story is supposed to be. Stories may grow wings they may swim. They are bound only by the limits of your imagination. Employing digressions means that you are telling with a purpose, not simply entertaining for entertainments sake.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
The Appearance of Youth
February 21, 2007
I did a performance at a school yesterday, it was an elementary school. After the performance one of the veteran teachers came over to buy my cd and she said, “you did really good, but I was worried at first.”
I asked her why and she said, “well when you walked in I asked myself, who is this kid they’ve sent us to do storytelling.”
I smiled.
She went on to explain how storytelling usually requires someone with a little age and years behind them.
I asked her how old she thought I was. This veteran of education peered over her bifocals, looked me up and down intensely and said, “somewhere in your mid to late 20′s.”
I couldn’t help myself, I grabbed her spontaneously, hugged her and planted a little kiss on her cheek.
I said, “Thank you, I really needed that.”
She asked me how old I was.
It turned out that she and I are about the same age.
I love being a storyteller.
Special Needs Children
February 16, 2007
Earlier today I had a performance at a school for children with “Special Needs.” It’s a tricky term that has come to encompass a wide range of issues from “At Risk” youth to children suffering from Autism or mental/physical challenges.
One of the questions that I always ask when I am going to perform at a school whose students are majority “Special Needs,” is what is it that they mean by special needs. I have walked into classrooms of special needs children where, out of 25 students, 20 of them were young African-American males diagnosed ADD or ADHD. I have walked into a classroom of special needs children to discover some were autistic, some dealing with cerebral palsy and many others suffering from different types of birth defects. For this reason, I always ask.
This morning I was being preped by the principal to expecct a crowd who might not be very attentive. I simply smiled. There are keys to working with special needs children; one of which is to forget about the term “Special Needs” and all of the baggage it carries with it.
I assured the principal that everything was going to be alright. She seemed to cautiously accept my optimistic demeanor and consoling words.
I chose to make an entrance as opposed to be sitting in the room as they were ushered in. I also consciously chose to lower the volume of the microphones and amplifiers, putting them down low, very low. For the robes, I wore a bright, inviting, earth tone color (green). The song I chose to serenade them with was a traditional song called “Kaira.” Kaira means peace in Maninka and Bamanakan; it is a very soothing song, played slowly it is reminiscent of a baby’s lullaby. My intention was to use this song to book end the program.
I won’t go into detail about the performance but I have to say that it was the staff that aided in its’ success. The staff totally bought into the event and aided in call/response chants that I taught them. With the staff modeling the behavior that I needed it was smooth sailing to elicit smiles and moans from many of the nonverbal children. Eye contact was at a premium which was an added benefit. I fused the story with the song and music, not stopping the performance.
I eliminated the stage and chose a close proximity performance. I spent all of my time in the audience, among the children. I allowed their eye contact, or avoidance, to dictate my movements. Some of their eyes were calling for me to visit their area, others were directing me not to. In the end both camps seemed pleased as was evidenced by the number that approached me following the show.
I have to say that this experience was truly magical for me. It is a wonderful feeling to exercise one’s craft and receive as much as you give. These children were very affirming.
I left this performance feeling better than I’ve felt in a long time. I felt like we had truly communicated and the children had affirmed my purpose for being a storyteller.
I entered this performance with an idea that was confirmed. For me, it is the idea that the soul does not know age, physical disability or socio/economic status.
I love my work and wake up every morning kissing the air I breath with a gentle thank you. A reminder that I have awakened one more time and have the potential to do so again. What I do with the time between each of these mornings is a key to living a fulfilling life. These children helped me to remember this.
This is why I do what I do.
Exhausted but Happy
February 8, 2007
If anyone is thinking of starting their own business because you think it will give you more free time, then don’t do it. I think the fallacy that being your own boss allows you to enjoy endless hours of relaxation is, possibly, on e of the greatest myths of our entrepenurial era.
African Heritage Month has got the be the busiest time of the year for me ever. I feel thoroughly exhausted and it’s only the 8th but I have to say there is an unexplainable feeling of contentment which I wish I could articulate more effectively.
If free time is your primary motivation for owning your own business then you should definitely rethink and redefine your concepts of owning your own business. Not only will you have to wear many hats (manager, editor, cook, janitor, etc.) you will also have to learn how to make the hats, design them and fit them to the sizes of heads of unimaginable size (clients and customers).
Well, this is just quick personal rant that I needed to get off of my chest, having risen from sleep at 4:00 this morning to start work. Got to get back to work now! See you later!
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Kings to Clowns in Less Than 400 Years
February 7, 2007
<img src=”http://www.wovenweb.org/images/post.jpg” title=”Asha’s Baba playing the Kora” alt=”Asha’s Baba playing the Kora” align=”right” height=”200″ width=”200″ /><o:p></o:p>Yesterday, February 6, 2007 I performed in a small school in a suburb on the outskirts of <st1:city w:st=”on”><st1:place w:st=”on”>Los? ? Angeles</st1:place></st1:city>. It was a beautiful area with brand new homes still under construction and state-of-the-art shopping centers littering the main thoroughfare. For being so far outside of <st1:city w:st=”on”><st1:place w:st=”on”>Los Angeles</st1:place></st1:city>, the student population of this school was very diverse, ethnically. Bear with me; I’m pointing this out for a reason.
<p class=”MsoNormal”><o:p></o:p>As I was performing during the assembly I kept noticing one young man in particular. He was a young African-American child. Early on I had expressed my pride in culture and heritage, it’s a part of my assembly program in schools. I could see that, with many of the African-American children this statement held resonance. But this one young man seemed to be on a mission of his own. As I was performing he continually muttered, albeit in whispers, expletives and snide comments.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>If you are a reader of the advice columns of this site you are probably well aware of my suggestions for handling these types of situations. It is often best to ignore the exception to the rule and focus your energies on the children most amenable to you during assembly programs because, for one, you are dealing with literally hundreds of children and, two, you detract from the quality of your performance when you give in and “oil<span>? </span>the squeaky wheel.”</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>Think what you want about me but, above all, I have to be honest. When this young man was “actin’ a fool” (a term I believe my grandmother must have coined) I could not simply ignore it. There was a part of me that basically said, to hell with all else, I have to address this. Maybe they will never permit me to visit this campus again or, it is possible that I could be banned from the entire district for what I was thinking about doing. I felt a strong sense of wanting him to see himself through my eyes and not the tainted, distorted lenses he was obviously wearing at this time.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>I completed the telling of the tale and, right at the end of the story, the young man whispered some sexually suggestive comments that I wish had escaped my ears, but they didn’t.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>After the telling of the tale, I apologized in advance to anyone who might be offended by what I was about to say. I let them know that before I am anything else, be it artist or performer, I am a man and a father and I could not let pass what I had just witnessed. Following my apology I made eye contact with the young man. He and I communicated in that moment in ways that are unexplainable. I didn’t want to stand him up in front of the entire school and chastise him, nor was my goal to humiliate him, so I addressed my comments to the general assembly, specifically addressing all of the young African-American men present.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>The young man straightened up, sat upright and did not allow his eyes to stray from mine. I won’t go into detail about what it was that I said but I will tell you that its’ content related to our (African-American’s) place in history; the life sacrifices of our ancestors; my personal shame in witnessing this behavior and knowing we share a common heritage and the level of disrespect demonstrated through acting ignorant when you are anything but.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>I made a lot of other statements. I think I veered from the performance path for about 3-5 minutes. Like I said, I was not about to berate this child in front of the entire student body, but he and I knew exactly who and what I was talking about.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>I went back into performance mode with a story I felt more appropriate for the moment. From that point on you would not have noticed that he was the same child. His appearance and mannerisms were completely altered. His focus was intense and caring. His posture would have made even my grandmother proud and his countenance radiated. He didn’t cower at having been chastised, he appeared to have flowered.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>It had to have been the greatest miracle to take this audience from a heavy, serious laden moment into a period of smiles and laughter.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>After I completed the assembly, a number of teachers thanked me for not ignoring a situation. None of them asked who the child was and, for this, I was thankful. There was one woman, a teacher, who had been displaced by Hurricane Katrina. She approached me with open arms, ecstatic that someone, other than her, saw the need to challenge our children to move above and beyond the lower nature principles offered them by our current media driven society.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>We talked for a long while. She shared her stories with me and I a few with her.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>We all know the statistics, we can’t ignore them: more young African-American males in prisons than Universities, homicide rates, etc.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”>I don’t know what will happen with this incident but I could not, as a man, have done anything different. I am hoping that the young man takes something out of this incident with him, something positive. It pains my heart in ways you can not imagine to see what is happening to many of our youth. Over the years I think I’ve volunteered in more programs targeting “troubled teens” and “at-risk” youth than I can even remember. It pains me to think that, in less than 400 years our children have the potential to go from being kings to clowns. I know this is but one day and one child, but it still hurts just the same.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal”><o:p> </o:p>This is why I do what I do.</p>
<p class=”MsoNormal” align=”center”><o:p></o:p>“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”</p>
Being at ease with your decisions
February 5, 2007
As I was finishing up an article I just posted in my “Why I Do What I Do” section, titled “Little Black Boy Back of the Class”, this proverb presented itself to me:
“When you agree to walk with a child, you agree to walk slowly.”
It didn’t have anything to do with the article that I was writing but it popped into my head anyway. This is another one of those occasions where I don’t know where or when I heard or read the proverb, but here it is, making itself known to me like an old friend returning for a visit.
I like to think that this proverb has more to do with being at ease with the decisions we make. Its’ literal translation sounds nice but the truth lies somewhere deeper. For example, how often have we, consciously, involved ourselves in a project, relationship or venture while knowing full well that others involved are not fully prepared or equipped to match our level of commitment? It’s the old story of the cat that volunteered his time to teach rabbits to hunt mice and was upset when they showed no interest.
We know things in advance but still venture down the path of the inevitable anyway. We have agreed to walk with children but get frustrated when they don’t perform to our adult standards. I’m obviously speaking euphemistically here but I’m sure you all get me.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Little Black Boy Back of the Class
February 5, 2007
There are a number of things that have led me to live the type of life I am living. Last week, there was something that happened that affirmed many of my earlier life decisions.
February the 1st of 2007 I was visiting a classroom of elementary school children in the city of
This group of children happened to be a class of 3rd graders. I had visited their room on two previous occasions and we had built an understanding of one another. I had promised them that if they committed to memory the things we had talked about previously then I would simply bring them more music and newer stories to enjoy. Needless to say there was a 100% retention rate of the information disseminated during the previous visits. It is amazing what incentives can do isn’t it?
I apologize in advance, but I have to take a little side track here. I think we too often expect immediate results from our children. Our obsessive testing culture has bullied most of us into thinking that we must produce immediate, confirmable, statistic oriented data in order to properly assess our successes with our children. Unfortunately for the testing jihadists, human beings are not programmable bits and bites. Fortunate for me and many others who share my passions, we already are aware of this fact. I prefer to think in terms of seeds being planted and one day, for some children maybe it will be tomorrow and others maybe weeks, months or even years, but one day these seeds will grow and bear fruit. Many of the children I come into contact with will utilize the information I give them but only when they are ready.
I know I’m venturing further off of that road we were traveling, but bear with me. I once gave a young man a book; it was a rather thick book. He smiled at me kind of impishly and simply said, “Thanks Baba.” I knew by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t very pleased. I explained that I knew he was not going to read the book anytime soon, but it wasn’t meant for him to read today. He laughed that type of laugh when the truth about you has been exposed. Most adults know what I’m talking about. I told him that there would come a day when this book would have meaning for him and that maybe I would not be around share that day with him. For this reason I gave him the book today. This is the type of philosophy that I strive to live by.
Anyway… back to the classroom visit. Yes, I tend to veer a little off of the beaten path but I will always get us back. I was in this classroom planting seeds as I love to call what I do. We were singing, learning together and aiding each other in the telling of the tale. When we finished I had something to say before I departed the room.
I have statements that I like to make before I depart a classroom. I have been doing this for a number of years and it has become an automated response to closing out a session. As I was closing I was explaining that I love my work as a storyteller and I would not trade it for the world. I went on to say that we may enjoy ourselves immensely during these sessions and that is a good thing, but everyone must understand that these are aspects of my cultural heritage, a legacy bestowed upon me from my ancestors that I am sharing with them. I have an immense pride in who I am and what I do. I am very proud to be an African-American Man.
This day, when I closed with this, there was a young brother seated at the back of the room. He had been an exemplary student on each of my visits and I thoroughly enjoyed the energy he brought to the table. At my close, when I spoke of my intense pride in being an African-American Man, he sat straight up in his desk and loudly proclaimed, “I AM TOO!”
I don’t know what more a person can ask for as far as job satisfaction. That young man affirmed me and my work in that split second of his heightened excitement. I should say we affirmed one another. His teacher later told me that he had been a problem student in class prior to my visits. I didn’t see it. I could only see myself in him.
This is why I do what I do.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Is the Superbowl today?
February 4, 2007
Ok, I can’t be the only guy in North America who didn’t know that the Superbowl was being played today. Am I?
I guess I’m so preoccupied with other things going on in the world that it simply slipped my mind (if it was ever in there). My wife and one of my students were laughing at me this morning when they discovered this. I’m not totally devoid of an appreciation for sports, I used to participate in many when I was a youth. I guess the years have redirected my focus away from the things I enjoyed as a boy.
Am I the only guy in North America who didn’t know that the Superbowl was being played today?
“Dooni dooni kononi be nyaga da.”
To Be Needed
February 4, 2007
One of the young women I am teaching to play the Kora left a message for me last night on my phone. Sounding a little distraught, she explained that she had attempted to tune her Kora, which is an art in and of itself, and altered it to the point where she couldn’t get the proper sounds back.
I returned her call this morning and let her know that it would be alright for her to come back by and I would tune the Kora for her.
When she arrived, she was very apologetic. Although I tried to reassure her that it was absolutely fine, she still remained somewhat apologetic.
We talked while I tuned the Kora. After I finished, she seemed pleased and headed off to work.
After she left, I reflected on my feeling of contentment. I realize that what I was feeling was the joy of having been needed for something. The joy of being able to provide a service to another person. Another aspect, I believe, has to do with being a parent. I don’t think that once you’ve taken to nurturing others that that aspect of your soul just disappears once your children are grown. I think there is a part of most of us that desire “to be needed.”
For me, the tuning of her Kora having gone out of whack was a small but fulfilling blessing.
Just more thoughts, rants and ravings from your friendly neighborhood storyteller.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Valuing Self
February 3, 2007
I posted previously about Fools and being Foolish. While I was completing that writing, another one of the proverbs dealing with fools and foolishness popped into my head. As they say, “there is no proverb without an occasion.”
My only regret is that, over the years, I didn’t document all of those words of wisdom I heard or read. They seem to just make visits now when the occasion calls for them to. Maybe I should be happy that they have integrated themselves into my life. That would be a more positive way of looking at it.
Anyway, here is the proverb:
“It is a fool whose own tomatoes are sold back to him.”
Just as I’ve said previously, proverbs are multidimensional. These works exist on many levels of understanding. I, personally, enjoy the understanding that each of us possess unique gifts and qualities and that, when you seek others to tell you, or give you what you already possess, you are, in essence having your own tomatoes sold back to you.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Being the Fool
February 3, 2007
This is one of those proverbs that, in my youth, I used to employ as a weapon against others. I can’t tell you how many times I spit this one out to make a point in an argument against someone who was irritating me. Over time, I began to see it as cruel to use proverbs as offensive attacks. I regret many of the instances in my youth where I, haphazardly, employed proverbs to bring someone down.
My perspective now, and I’m not that old, is to internalize the wisdom of proverbs and resist the temptation to toss them out as one would a grenade.
One of the proverbs I have internalized has to do with recognizing my own limitations. I often tell children when I make classroom visits that “wisdom is in knowing that you do not know.” Adults tend to look at me quixotically but children seem to really get it. This proverb goes like this:
“By the time the fool has learned the game, all of the players have dispersed.”
Self explanatory right? Well, on the surface, it might be, but beneath its simplicity there lay dimensions upon dimensions of understanding (as is with any other proverb).
The dimensions I consciously choose to acknowledge this proverb are on a more personal level. I see myself as the fool who knows not. This isn’t self-denigrating. It is a reality. At some level we are all foolish when it comes to something. The key is in knowing that you do not know. For me, these are the rules of the game; knowing that you do not know.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Be Your Own Oracle
February 3, 2007
The premise that each of us contains, within ourselves, all of the things necessary to create our successes in life is not a new idea, nor is it cutting edge concept. Each of us gains wisdom through experience. What separates the wheat from the chaff is each person’s ability to integrate those lessons over time into their lives. Once an individual learns to integrate those lessons we say that she is wise. This is something that many cultures of the world realize and it is the reason why elders, within their respective societies, are venerated.
When we don’t absorb the lessons life has given us over time we are deemed to be foolish.
There’s a quote attributed to Einstein that I’ve heard so often that I’m beginning to think that there is a joke hidden in it somewhere. It goes something like this: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
We laugh and point towards the other person and say, “only a fool would do that,” but it is a common human trait to repeat our errors continuously until redirected by some stronger force or opposition. Remember this; when you point in another’s direction, there are three fingers pointing back at you.
If prefer another perspective that says, “By the time the fool has learned the rules of the game, the players have all dispersed.”
To alleviate ourselves from the burden of having to exercise a little introspection and face ourselves, we often, and quickly I might add, seek out the advice of others. We can call these others mediums or oracles. They don’t always appear in the guise of a mystic in hooded robes. More often than not, they are wearing Armani suites and silk ties or Prada pumps. These mediums or oracles we seek out in our technologically advanced contemporary culture tend to be psychotherapist, psychologists, counselors, and analysts; with a few ghost whisperers thrown in for good measure. Many, not all, charge exorbitant fees to impart their wisdom to us. We have no problem sacrificing our time and earnings to these oracles, just as many of our ancestors did to their oracles in the days of the ancients.
I would pose the following question to you, the seeker; the one who desires wisdom.
What is it that separates your life experiences from the contemporary oracle?
Here’s a simple definition of an oracle:
or·a·cle n. A) A sacred shrine believed to facilitate the veneration and communication with a prophetic deity. B) An individual, such as a prophet or priest, who acts as a medium through which a deity is responsive when consulted. C) A person considered to be a source of wise counsel or prophetic opinions.
Our experiences are unique. No two people share the exact same experiences in life. This is the reason many of us, reared within the same family, same environment and under the same socio-economic conditions as our siblings often question the notion that blood relations share anything other than blood.
I am not saying that there is not a place for counselors, therapists and the like. What I do want to stress more than anything is that the first person who should be consulted, the oracle most knowledgeable of you is “you.”
It may seem a radical notion to some, but, as I said in the opening; the concept that each of us contains, within ourselves, all of the things necessary to create our successes in life is not a new idea, nor is it cutting edge theory.
Each of us possesses an intuitive state that is persistently attempting to influence our life, our decisions. The problem is that we often ignore this “inner voice.” I don’t think there is anyone who will argue against the point that we each possess an inner voice. It may not pass muster with the edicts of the scientific method but we simply “know” it exists. This voice, early in our lives, is rather loud. The more we ignore it over time, the more it becomes a whisper until, and this is the important part, until many years into our adulthood it becomes barely audible.
In being your own oracle before seeking our others, you are training yourself to listen to “yourself.” You are training yourself to seek that inner voice first, listen to it and attempt to follow its advice.
In being your own oracle you are giving license to yourself to trust “yourself.” You are acknowledging your own life experiences as valuable and worthy of examination.
In being your own oracle you are, in essence, lighting the way for others whose trepidation in trusting themselves may be alleviated by the living example you set.
It is funny to me how ancient wisdom and formulas for successful living are adopted by Western Societies, repackaged, relabeled and sold back to us in the guise of newer, more progressive information. There’s a proverb that describes this process better than I. It says, “It is a fool whose own tomatoes are sold back to him.”
Allow me to give you an example. I often take courses and workshops from people said to be leaders in their respective fields. I once was taking a workshop from a psychologist whose specialty was “behavior.” During the lecture, he described how the newest research was showing that our thoughts often dictate the type of mental/physical health we incur. He went on to describe the process by which each of us can obtain optimum health. He labeled this process “Mindfulness” and said that this new term is currently being adopted by leaders in the field. I raised my hand near the completion of the workshop and asked him if he realized that he had just given us principles of life and living according to Taoist Philosophy? He was very honest in his answer. He said, “This is similar but without the cultural baggage.”
Alright, after many of you have stopped laughing, could you please finish the remainder of this article?
I could continue repeating the things I’ve already said but then that would be redundant wouldn’t it? I think it is more important, before you walk away from this page, to stress the fact that your uniqueness qualifies you in ways unimaginable to the materialists out there to be the frontline advisor or counselor in your own life. Seek outside mediums, oracles and therapists only after you have exhausted introspective examination.
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Proverb Created By a Young Girl
February 2, 2007
The following proverb was created by a young girl who lives just outside of San Francisco, California. She gave it to me as a gift following an appearance I made at her school, where I performed and gave workshops.
She approached me on my last day at the school, gave me a big, tight hug and told me that she had a gift for me that I was not to open until I got back to Los Angeles.
Her proverb has, “officially,” become my most favorite proverb in the whole wide world:
“A story is like a garden carried in a pocket.”
Thank you Sharie, I’ll treasure this gift forever!
Destroying the Tools of Your Trade
February 2, 2007
If you were to witness a cook dragging his cooking utensils across the floor prior to preparing your meal, or a painter using her most expensive brushes to whitewash a picket fence, you would probably think them insane. Why is it then that we think nothing of the teller or word artist who abuses their gift of voice?
I have been on rosters with other performers, specifically storytellers, singers and poets who, before going out to ply their trade on stage, think nothing of gulping down a huge glass of soda or other ice cold drink. It amazes me that we abuse the tools of our craft in the way we do.
Yes, your voice, your vocal chords, your mouth and tongue are all tools of your craft, intimately intertwined to perform the sacred task of delivering the all powerful word.
We immediately recognize the absurdity of the cook or painter who acts in a destructive manner with the tools of their trade. Our distress appears to vanish when it comes to witnessing the abuse of the omnipresent, but much more sensitive, voice.
Many artists who rely on their voices for a living place themselves in a very precarious position, challenging their own longevity, when they engage in activities such as smoking, drinking alcohol and consuming materials that are the antithesis of vocal health.
It would be wonderful if the solution were to just tell performers to stop it. We all know that “just say no” never worked. One solution might be for us, as a community of artist, to openly challenge one another. I see the potential for disaster here in our “rugged individualist” oriented society. Maybe another solution is to ignore those who engage in such reckless behavior and view it as a sort of Darwinian “survival of the fittest” paradigm. This would be where only those who have prepared themselves for longevity actually endure. For me, that is a difficult one because I view myself as part of a community and I also see myself as accountable to a higher level of consciousness within myself.
As a rule I try to live by example. I try to make myself the model of what I eventually desire to be. Engaging in didactic delivery defeats my purpose and promotes defensiveness. I acknowledge the frailty of the tools of my trade: i.e. my voice, my eye sight, my musculature, my memory, etc.
Once I recognize the frailty of my tools I am called upon to preserve them best I can, after all, I am only in possession of them temporarily and I always strive to return things better than when I received them.
I don’t expect my words to make sense to most of you but for the few who comprehend; this is written for you.
I could give you a long list of things to do but there are already more than enough people out there more informed than I who can assist. There are dieticians, nutritionists, therapists, and trainers galore. Living in the information age affords each of you access to more information than you could ever consume in one lifetime.
Start with yourself, become the embodiment of that which you desire to be and you will be surprised how many people pickup on your nonverbal cues.
Protect your throat and voice. Your mouth may, one day, speak the words that change someone’s life. That is truly a gift. You do not want to miss the blessing of someone telling your how your words affected them because you happen to be suffering from laryngitis, or worse, a hangover, and couldn’t perform
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
Why Barak Obama cannont be President
February 2, 2007
“He’s over qualified.”
I just couldn’t resist the temptation, forgive me.
“Dooni dooni kononi be nyaga da.”
Death and Dining
February 1, 2007
Yesterday I delivered a series of workshops at a school in Northern California. After about the third workshop it was lunch time. One young man stayed behind after all the other children had departed. He approached me and trepidlly requested if he could eat lunch with me. I don’t know about you, but it is next to impossible for me to turn down the request of children, especially when those request are sincere. Without hesitation, I agreed that we should eat lunch together.
We were seated at a table in the library (that’s where I was hosting the workshops) and we began to talk. He actually started the conversation by firing off a dozen questions in succession. I was more than happy to answer. The conversation shifted a little to his desire to let me know of a few of the tragedies that had befallen him recently. His grandfather had just died last year, his father and mother divorced last year, his grandmother had suffered a major injury last year and there were a few other things.
I looked him in his eyes and simply said, “Man, you took a beating last year didn’t you?”
He smiled really wide and had that look of, “yeah, finally somebody who understands.”
We talked and talked all throughout the lunch session. He told me his passion is to become a chef someday. He is already collecting recipes and books about cooking. He has taken a few classes. I told him that he is well on his way to becoming a masterchef but everything worth having or doing takes time.
Before the we ended our lunch, he was absolutely beaming, his smile pushing both of his ears further back on his head. I was feeling really good myself. I didn’t feel like I had done much except share a few grapes and nuts with another person but it felt good, I mean really good.
As I was cleaning up the mess I made. I have to admit my side of the table was a lot messier than his. As I was cleaning up, he said to me, “there is one thing I forgot to tell you when I was telling you about my horrible year last year.”
I asked him, “What was that?”
“Well,” he said, “on top of all that stuff that happended last year, I forgot to tell you that my grandpas dog died too.”
I stood there silently for about three seconds when all of a sudden, simultaneously, we both busted out into a fit of laughter.
When I left the library, he asked me if I would be coming back to his school. I told him that I would make ever effort possible to return.
After he left, I just thought about the few minutes it takes to make a difference in someone’s life, for example, mine and his. I thought about the power that we adults possess that goes untapped, the power of giving our time over to those who need it the most, “our children.” When I say “our children” I’m not talking about those you have given birth to or adopted I’m talking being an actual community. After all, isn’t a society that dosen’t value and protect its’ own simply a population occupying the same time/space?
“Dooni dooni kononi bè nyaga da.”
