CharlestonLight.LeisaHammet.com
It’s now two days after many of us awakened with the news of the Charleston racially motivated mass shooting that claimed,  among them, a senator’s life and took place in a beautiful historic African American church while its innocent and unaware and trusting members were praying. I haven’t commented here or any social media platform about the event. I haven’t known what to say. And still do not.

I became uncomfortably aware at some point Thursday and also on Friday that I had remained starkly silent while many others were buzzing across Twitter and Facebook. A wonderful midlife bloggers Facebook group, (referred to in my post here,) of which I am a member, suspended our group sharing thread that day. The next day, a blogger in the group who posts a weekly comment thread for sharing the highlight of everyone’s week, asked the group about continuing to celebrate amid tragedy. Oh. I’d just posted on Facebook Friday morning details of the grand time I’d had the night before. A rare weeknight out not to go speak, advocate, or attend a meeting about disAbility, but just to play with a group of new women friends unrelated to anything about disAbility….Was I insensitive to share that? I don’t think so. But the Facebook discussion about sharing our joy amid such sorrow pierced my thoughts. The group is private, so I cannot share the content here. But the thread’s essence was based on a paraphrase of author Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) to be a stubborn seeker of gladness in the world.

This calls to mind the “salon” discussions I hosted in my Nashville home in the early 90s. For a year or so, they were hosted all about town. We strangers who’d attend to discuss topics would, in our group, inevitably end with what a sad and sometimes horrible place is the world. That conclusion would always hurt my heart because, yes, there is much sadness, hurt, and shame in our world, but there is also light, joy, and love. Even in the midst of great tragedy. And while some are experiencing one, others are experiencing the other. And in the course of almost every human’s life we experience the entire spectrum. I do not want anyone to stop their joyous celebration of life while I experience darkness or loss in my own. And if I’m clear, I experience and share their joy even when there is dark in my own. What is problematic, in my experience, is when we feel nothing in the loss of others. When we fail to care. When we do not stop and think about how our actions, thoughts, and words do or do not contribute to the many, significant, seriously problematic issues and calamities in our world daily. When we don’t find some way that resonates deeply within us to make our personal contribution to the world to love, help, and heal.

My thoughts on Charleston, follows suit with the tact of celebrated daily National Public Radio show Fresh Air, hosted by the iconic voiced Terry Gross. Yesterday the show re-aired the beautiful interview of an African American poet who grew up, during part of her life, in my hometown. One of my favorite all-time favorite gifts was the surprise package, for no special occasion, from my middle sister, of Jacqueline Woodson’s award-winning book, Brown Girl Dreaming. I’ve not finished the book, I’m savoring it as I do books of poems, reading them slowly poem by poem.

I’m sure that part of several reasons my sister sent me Brown Girl Dreaming was that she was struck about how different Woodson’s life was in a different part of town—which I barely remember hearing of—than ours in a mostly white section of town. Woodson and I are only a few years apart in age. Her Greenville, S.C., was my Greenville, S.C. And, then again, NOT. Very much not. Bless the artists, musicians, and the writers and poets for telling the other stories so that we can all learn and open our hearts in aware compassion. Woodson shares transformative pain of a family divided by divorce and alienated by race and the resulting gifted musician of a writer she is today.

So, I close with a link to the audio and written Fresh Air interview of Woodson. I heard several NPR stories acclaiming the book, upon it’s publication, late last year, as well as listening, at Christmastime, to a few poems as my sister read them aloud to my other sister and I. The two of us, my older sister and I, listened to our middle sister, and locked eyes filling with tears. I cannot remember if the Fresh Air interview was one that I heard last year. While listening to it yesterday, I was struck with how the author compared the “rich” experience of growing up in the South to that of her current and also long-time home of Brooklyn. Her insights to the friendly culture in the South and how we greet one another and say hello is not reciprocated up North. And that is just what we are seeing now in our massive cultural shift happening here in Nashville through widespread gentrification of our city. We are loosing that personal connection that once made Nashville feel so special.

This is a thoughtful interview. Turn it on while you cook dinner or fold laundry. While our hearts weep for Charleston, Woodson reminds us that there is light. Even in the darkness. Namaste.

Written and audioTerri Gross/Fresh Air: Jacqueline Woodson on Growing up, Coming Out, and Speaking to Strangers.

Audio: Disclosure: This post contains an Amazon affiliate link. I will receive an uber minuscule payment if you order the aforementioned book, which is not my motivation for endorsing this lovely book of poems.