It’s been a long while since there’s been a post.  Today is the right day for it.  It started when I read an article that my husband pointed out to me in the New Yorker magazine (April 4, 2016). The article is Soul Survival:  The revival and hidden treasure of Aretha Franklin.

imagesThe article was a profound portrayal of the woman, the music, the religion, the history of Aretha Franklin, and it necessarily swept in on the winds of civil rights of the 1940-60s.

I sit here in my living room, a comfortable life, immersed in yoga, children, writing, semi-retirement, and I am white.  And also here I am, with tears rolling down my cheeks, watching and listening to the Queen sing song after song, some soul R&B, some gospel, some even opera.  The big floodgates opened watching this video of Aretha sing for Obama, Michelle, and Carol King among other fortunate ones who happened to be there.

Tears are good. They flow.  They come for important reasons and they bring new places into being.  I can feel my new place.  It has something to do with what Aretha stands for to me.  Hardship, courage, power unearthed, explored, and lived.

I am reminded of the video of the children that I Grow Chicago posted after there was violence in the house next to the Peace House, which is sanctuary of goodness, yoga, and self-empowerment.  The children chanted “I am Happy, I am Good” fiercely, as though they knew in their hearts that this is the place to be, and though it may be a struggle–by God–we will get there.  I love that.  I want to support that with every ounce of my strength, with every drop of my tears, and with the fierce grace that is in my heart.