Still Sundays
September 19th.
“Purposeless life misses nothing.” Gift of the third eye. Art as a catalyst for change. What of stories?
If you would like to know what Still Sundays is about, please take a quick gander here and just read the third paragraph. Thanks.
New York City, despite tall architectural structures springing towards the sky as far as the eye can gaze, offers crevices where you can feel the foundation upon which it all stands: the Earth. When I say earth I am not referring to the marvel that is Central Park nor am I referring to the many other precious public gardens which offer tranquilizing greenery. I mean the spaces in between the buildings, the alleys and turns that surprise us that we are not gliding in air but simply walking. That we are small specs trying to get from here to there—in the City and Life—and maybe “there” is really “here” after all.
“Paradoxical as it may seem, the purposeful life has no content, no point. It hurries on and on, and misses everything. Not hurrying, the purposeless life misses nothing, for it is only when there is no goal and no rush that the human senses are fully open to receive the world.” ~ Alan Watts
I don’t know how to rush; I receive plenty that I embrace as magical gifts yet enough which perplexes me.
I can’t scurry; not in my writing, not when I am about to miss a bus, not when I am caught between two engagements within a tight time frame. Yet I think faster than most (I know this now—more practice than intelligence), process reflections quicker than I can articulate, and have to breathe consciously to decode the circuits of my neural synapses.
The joy of navigating through detours is what I enjoy most about New York City. I hope to find the same joy—instead of discomfort—when I come across, what appear to be, unfamiliar emotional terrains within myself.
I began this post earlier in the morning stillness only to find myself rushing through it for I had decided to meet Marianne , better known as @zenpeacekeeper on twitter, along with two other ladies, Leana, a physician who enjoys yoga and the eclectic joys of life, and Letha, founder of an amazing organization called Wrap Up Africa, for breakfast. I decided to write this in the evening or not at all. It felt important to shift the schedule despite knowing I didn’t go to yoga yesterday due to other commitments and today would follow suit. I was right; it was worth the alteration. The meeting was wonderful: it held the energy of union with old friends. It was also inspiring on multiple levels. These were real women relentlessly doing remarkable work to change the status quo in their own ways.
I have often thought of this “break” of mine to write, to place the legal and education magic wands on hold for a little bit, with a discomfort. There is much that needs to be done and here I am writing. Her Sizwe, my incomplete manuscript, is a story that spans three continents and needs to be shared.
Sometimes I just float to the bottom of the oceanfloor of my thoughts and stare at the sky of my world: what do you plan on accomplishing with this book, self?
I am grateful to Marianne for her comforting words: sometimes art is the greatest catalyst for change. We are all here because of some book, film, song, or piece of work that moved us to “do” something or “think” something or “feel” something that never quite left us the same.
It is not our nature to be “same”—we were meant to evolve—we resist this steadfastly. I do too. My sword against change is shiny but not sharp. And when I am still enough I am grateful it is not.
But what of stories? Often we make them up and they run our lives. Do we really need more? The mind plays a constant reel of fragmented memories with unresolved attachments to same and foreshadowing a future that is neither of dreams nor goals. The story running in our heads hinders the intelligence beyond the mind.
So what of stories?
We need stories to filter the fiction in our heads.
And it is enough even if our craft transforms one human being that alters a generation.
J. Nozipo Maraire wrote such a story. Most have never heard of her and I don’t believe she has ever written anything since. I know of no other quote that resonates more with me than one from her book. I know of no other words that have captured the essence of what happens when you know without a doubt your purpose(s).
Thus I have come to believe that there are a chosen few…
who are blessed with the gift of the third eye–
the vision that empowers, that makes you bold to laugh in the face of fate’s stern, set, furious glare,
to ignore the path that she has pointed out for you and to opt for some other, grassier path to tread.
It is for you to sway the course of destiny; it is your words that will write the text of a new chapter in […] history.
In that version, there will be no place for victims, only leaders.
There is tremendous responsibility that comes with this vision that the rest of us are blissfully ignorant of.
Once you see the alternatives and are convinced of their merit,
you will be obliged like some new religious zealot to spread it, to convert others, and never tire of the mission.
~ J. Nozipo Maraire from Letter to Zenzele
You can write for “yourself.” You can draw or paint for “joy.” You can sing or play a song because you are “talented” or “bored” or both.
You can do all of the above to change the status quo even if through one or multiple lives.
Beyond the ‘why’ of your creativity exists a field which doesn’t excuse lack of intention.
Me: a religious zealot to finish Her Sizwe.
“We are traveling with tremendous speed toward a star in the Milky Way. A great repose is visible on the face of the Earth. My heart’s a little fast. Otherwise everything’s fine.” ~ Bertolt Brecht
Gratitude for my favorite magazine that resuscitates me back into me: The Sun.
~a.q.s.
