Same and Different

The miraculous as the norm settled down a bit in these last days of classes. Fun, satisfying, inspiring, but nothing that hinted of a visit from the other world. And perhaps that’s my working definition—the sense that another presence enters that illuminates and amplifies and heightens the normal as we know it. Call it what you like—the Ancestors, the Muse, guardian angels or just the perfect chemical combination accidently thrown together. Its name doesn’t matter. Its presence does.

 

Today it came from—or rather, through— Kofi’s sister Kosonde, a traditional singer who I had heard before and remembered loving and she didn’t disappoint. First off, the older style of pentatonic songs with evocative harmonies (provided by Kofi) in 4ths and 2nds touches me with its elemental power. Secondly, her own power as a singer, thoroughly owning the song and acting it out and dancing it out and singing with her face as well as her voice. Third, some intricate polyrhythmic bell-work provided by Kofi and helpers Aaron and Hope. Fourth, the lovely interplay between brother and sister. And finally, the profound meaning of the words later explained by Kofi. 

 

Amidst all the injustices done to the continent of Africa, all the pumped-in stereotypes of primitive dancing natives or children starving or constant wars, one unspoken disservice is our complete ignorance of the profound spirituality of the continent. In the late 60’s, we spirit-starved Americans turned to the Indian gurus and the Japanese Zen masters bringing “the Wisdom of the East.” Some were genuine, some were fake, but all rode in on the sense of Asia as the Mysterious East that would bring us to bliss and unity with the Cosmos. This continued on all the way through Eat, Pray and Love, where the author goes to Italy to learn how to eat and live well, to India to meditate and find inner peace, to Bali to learn how to love (a Brazilian, it turned out!). But nobody, not then, not now, suggests “go to Africa to immerse yourself in the profound wisdom of a culture that perfectly blends the spiritual world with the human community.”

 

But that’s what I’m finding yet again. I have enjoyed reading books by Michael Meade, listening to his Podcasts, going to his live talks. He’s the real deal, drawing from his extensive reading, work with Robert Bly, James, Hillman, Malidoma Some (from Burkina Faso, right above Ghana!) and others. One of his persistent themes is what he calls The Genius Myth, the idea that we are born with a guiding image and unique purpose, a need in the world that has chosen us to be its voice, a story set within our soul that needs our participation to unfold it and offer it to the world.  Our job is to heed the call and not refuse it, to do the necessary work without care whether our family, church, workplace, culture cares to see it. This kind of thinking offers a genuine meaning and purpose to life and I can testify that my own attempts to follow my calling have done just that and seemed to have offered some comfort, solace, compassion and appreciation to some who have been my students and/ or read my books. 

 

This sense of authentic meaning and encouragement to be wholly oneself is precisely what these songs Kosonde sang are about. What the proverbs and adinkra stamps and dance steps overall cultural practices and mythologies are designed to cultivate and nourish. Less spirituality as a “Wow! Cosmic!” individual experience like the kind LSD promised and more as a working model of how to serve the community in both this world and the other one and feel the link between them. In short, time and again I find life-affirming wisdom in people here whose names the West will never know, unburdened by dogma or book-bound theology. I can’t partake directly of it the way I might join an ashram or Zen Center (though the opportunity to study the music, songs and dance is wide open), so it will never have a cult following in America—and thank goodness! 

 

But I want people to know that when they ooh and aah over a celebrity motivational speaker or self-proclaimed spiritual leader, that there are thousands (millions?) of folks in this remarkable African continent that already know what seems so impressive to us who have lived disconnected lives without a sense of meaning. If you want some models of how this can be healed, not so much individually but collectively in our communities, you are most welcome to come to Africa to witness it in person. 

 

PS Peering in on this culture from the outside is a benevolent form of “othering,” admiring a different culture as a teacher of some needed lessons. But during the question/answer with Kofi’s sister, I asked I she had any stories about Kofi as a young boy. Her face lit up and off she went and you could see Kofi’s face return to that 8-year old boy she was talking about. Amidst all the lessons we can learn from difference, here is the reminder of the heart of the matter. Brothers and sisters, families, the little and big dramas of families, are all common ground. We are all more the same than different.