I’ve been having so much fun creating abstract art. It’s a whole new world that I am excited to be a part… The post Sharing Some Of My Recent Art Work- Weekend Diary appeared first on Cassieblog.Sharing Some Of My Recent Art Work- Weekend Diary — Cassieblog
Ruach Elohim – (Breath of Life)
Breathing is a radical exercise. It harkens the human back to that primal breath that brought life to the world and to quest for humanity. Breathing is a practice of radical hope deeply woven into the human DNA. Every cell in the body celebrates each breath, affirms “I’m alive!” We breathe to become humanity with and for each other.
A baby’s first breath: the unfamiliar wind (the spirit of life) courses and ripples through its body: lungs and muscles contract and pulsate. The baby screams: delight and distress simultaneously wash over its fragile frame. Its voice added to the human chorus.
Hesed – (Loving Kindness)
Loving is not incidental; it is intentional. Loving is the journey and character of the human quest, the route to and for the beloved neighbor – the stranger (the foreigner, the differently-abled, the differently-understood, the differently-oriented, the different). Breathing engages loving kindness in the practice of radical hope.
Charis – (Grace)
Allied comrades, neighbor-strangers and planet, weave loving kindness between the wounds and the violence, between the not yet and almost now, between yesterdays and tomorrows. Breathe.
As with every day since the first African was kidnapped, violated, and inserted into the machinery of transatlantic enslavement, this is a day of mourning. The African Diaspora continue to mourn the abuse and death of that first African, and the numerous others that followed – our prophets, states(wo)men, scientists, and paupers. In the United States, this “the land is freedom and justice” is evidence of the lacuna in humanity created by transatlantic enslavement – in the places and spaces that are to offer protection, safety, justice, and, dare I say, hope, there is instead a rancid emptiness. Breaona Taylor’s death is a reminder that for original peoples and African Americans, every drop of freedom has had to be fought for and won over and over and over and over again in a perpetual Sisyphus ritual, and that every grief-filled tear had its genesis settlers’ arrival and the kidnap, rape, looting, and pillaging of our ancestral homes, the earth, and our bodies. We are reminded that every ounce of justice has had to be meticulously chiseled out of the stone hearts of those who have chosen greed and wanton violence as their way of being-in-the-world – egregiously creating and feasting on the misery of those they deem as ‘Other’. We are reminded that every breath we take is an act of resistance – defiance against the secret oath that Hilliard d’Auberteuil in the 18th century made public in his statement: “Policy and safety requires that we crush the race of blacks by a contempt so great that who ever descends from it even to the sixth generation shall be covered with an indelible stain” (quoted in Hutton 2007 p. 132).
The “contempt so great” was the foundation of whiteness – white supremacy and white ideology, which twist and corrupt the fabric of humanity. “You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear,” this teaching would begin at younger and younger ages for the generations that followed d’Auberteuil. The stain of whiteness has had trans-generational impacts: humanity denied – silencing moral intuit and promoting acquiescence to societal brutality. d’Auberteuil hopes for an indelible stain on Black lives revealed the oath already taken by many before him and enveloped those who came after him – the lives of those he would have called his own, descendants of European colonizers who would come to understand themselves as White. The indelible stain, whiteness.
State violence is a whiteness apparatus with impunity. Today, we mourn.
HUTTON, C. 2007. The Creative Ethos of the African Diaspora: Performance Aesthetics and the Fight for Freedom and Identity. Caribbean Quarterly, 53, 127 – 149.
Richard Rodgers and Oscar-Hammerstein II. 1949. You’ve got to be carefully taught. Show tune: South Pacific.
Àṣẹ Dance Theatre Collective
What ancestral promises are Black bodies/lives fulfilling in these moments of converging crisis? How do we continue to shape hope-filled futures whilst battling daily for life, for breath, for dignity? In what ways do we infuse critical joy into horrific space and place, and plant dignity and wholeness into the present?
Gardening has blossomed during the COVID-19 pandemic. Just as Americans planted “victory” gardens during wars and depressions before, now many are planting seeds to grow their own food. Doing so comes with real benefits, like stress relief, exercise and risk reductions for many diseases as a result of eating more vegetables. In a recent episode…How Growing Food Can Change Your Life, According to Gardener Ron Finley — TIME
These young dancers are bring deep critical thought and joy to this moment of intersecting pandemics. I pray they are being well cared for, kept safe, and nurtured. Thank you Norah, Yayra and Rose, you are writing the future into being with your dancing bodies!
“My friends were all misfits; a huge gang of commercially unattractive beautiful misfits.”
What does it mean to access your own Black body as a methodological and analytical tool for examinations of religious performance as well as historical and contemporary issues?