i read an interesting conversation online that got me thinking about what african love is and is not. i am not an expert on the matter, nor am i entirely certain that i know what it means, which renders me somewhat tongue tied. having struggled for days to write a blog on this, i have decided to post an open thread so you may leave a comment and say whatever you like. perhaps we can define it together? i am certainly not the only one searching for the words to say it.

i am appropriating a quote from a book about love in africa that was edited, oddly enough, by two white women. as does the book, i also 'seek both to understand this [collective] failure to consider love and to begin to correct it...argu[ing] for the importance of paying attention to the many different cultural and historical strands that constitute love in africa.'

i do so not only through loving others directly, but through my writing that, as brenda ueland puts it, is an act of supreme generosity and love. i would add that writing is far more straightforward than love itself. it is safe. it gives you back what you give it. in this way, love sometimes appears more dangerous, courageous. --AL.

p.s. when i first started this blog, i was determined never to write about such things here. in my opinion, the messiness of love and relationships need not be aired. it is a given. because of and in spite of this, i have migrated some of my posts and started a new blog, the african muse. my hands will be less tied there. you may also contribute to that if you wish, just e-mail me at theafricanmuse [at] gmail [dot] com.

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the guardian asked a handful of contemporary writers to comment on their rules for writing. zadie smith weighs in here. i found her list to be depressing, pessimistic, and utterly without joy. so here is my list. keep in mind that i am not an award-winning published author, although that doesn't mean i'm not also a writer. :)

1. write first thing in the morning every day, preferably before you get out of bed. let whatever is in you come out in its own way, whether it's last night's dream or a memory of something that happened in childhood. these writings will help you find your voice, and serve as creative fodder when you sit down later at the blank page.

2. always carry a pen and paper, preferably one of those small journalist notebooks that can be pulled out surreptitiously in public. record what people say, do, an image/sound/smell that moves you. these will come in handy as prompts when you write.

3. acknowledge that writing is an act. understand that to be a writer, one must do this action as often as possible while also suspending judgment of the nature, purpose and quality of the writing. excessive self judgment, doubt and criticism are hindrances to the creative process. and as an activity, one must maintain a healthy body to write effectively. this means taking regular breaks to avoid neck/back pains and carpal tunnel, as well as eating healthy snacks while writing.

4. share your writing in a safe and supportive environment. this can be with a close friend, significant other, or a peer writing group, but make sure the person(s) you share it with respect(s) and want(s) the best for you. avoid exposing yourself to unnecessary censure or criticism, as this can send your writer self into hiding.

5. laugh, cry, live, love. your life is fodder for your work, so be sure and live it to its fullest. but remember that you must not also have lived it in order to write it, so be bold.

6. take long walks in nature. breathing fresh air clears my head while the walking allows my thoughts to wander, gather, and collect themselves. i've fixed many a difficult passage this way!

7. no matter how uncomfortable you feel, write on. this one i'm borrowing from stephen king. he says that what makes a writer is her ability to write even when she feels like she's 'shoveling shit onto the page'. the point is to keep at it when the going gets tough. being a writer, or any other kind of artist, means being able to sit with your discomfort and move through it for the sake of the work. what you leave behind when you're done may later help someone else deal with their own experiences.

8. embrace fearlessness. writing is not for the faint of heart. so be bold and write what you really mean to say, not what you think other people want to read. if it comes from your heart, it will resonate with others.

9. write now, edit later. one of the biggest hurdles for me to get over as a writer has been turning off my inner editor and allowing my writing to flow. having read lots of articles and books on flow, i've learnt that this editor (really the superego) is the single greatest obstacle to creativity. the key to writing is productivity as opposed to slippery concepts like talent or perfection. so keep your pen moving, and you'll be fine.

10. publish your work. this is not a hard and fast rule, nor is publishing a necessary end of writing. but if you're reading this blog, you're likely not from among the elite privileged class of the world (or are you?). published writers from outside this class are vastly underrepresented. and i believe it is incumbent upon those of us with the ability and desire to publish our work to go ahead, so that others might read them. if you're still waiting for permission to tell your story: granted. --AL.

writing can be a very solitary act--done in private, with only my eyes and god watching. so letting others in to the process can be fraught with its own challenges. of course, i don't write simply for my own eyes; i write to evoke and to be understood. but sometimes the writing fails to achieve those aims. and i'm not sure what to do in these cases.

i am not likely to elaborate or elucidate, to speak or even yell. perhaps i feel the distance insurmountable, our human nature too hopelessly self interested to be overcome. in this way, i believe misunderstanding (indifference, apathy, violence) to be a failure of humanity.

writing and other narrative art forms can be a powerful antidote; however, i'm quite sure that i don't believe i will ever be fully understood by anybody. that another person will fully grasp my experiences as though they were his/her own and see me as 'self,' no longer 'other'.

it is a wish of mine, both for me and humanity, but i sometimes wonder if it is a great fantasy. altho i must say that i have found understanding and communion with other writers. have uttered the words: yes, i see myself in you. i remember there. --AL.

for more sips of divine inspiration, visit: the water drum blog. --AL.

Your gratitude unleashes infinite grace.
"By counting my blessings, I turn apathy into cheerfulness, despair into laughter, and grief into gratitude. When you can offer thanks in the midst of your trial, your life has already taken a turn for the best. If the only two words you ever pray are 'thank you,' Child, you’ve said enough."

-- Eva Johnson in What Keeps Me Standing: Letters from Black Grandmothers on Peace, Hope and Inspiration.

I recommend placing a hand over your heart before you try this one. Happy Valentine's Day! @>-------AL.

You are loved.
All is well.
Breathe into the area around your heart and imagine it softening. Imagine your heart center becoming light, spacious and free. Connect to a memory when someone was especially loving and compassionate to you, or a time when you felt great love in your heart.

Breathe into that feeling. Surrender to it. Treasure it. Inhale and imagine it washing over you. As you exhale, send loving thoughts to all the people in your life. Wish them well. Send them peace. Tap into the Infinite Love within you and around you. It is always available to you. Keep your heart open to the beauty and the power of love. It is the strongest force of life.

--a metta meditation

another sip of water care of my friend l.w. enjoy! --AL.

“When flowing water meets with an obstacle in its path – a blockage in its journey – it pauses. It increases volume and strength, filling up in front of the obstacle and eventually spilling past it. Such is the nature of the obstacle facing you now. It is part of the path you have taken and must be overcome before you can continue.

Do not turn and run for there is nowhere worthwhile for you to go. Do not attempt to push ahead into the danger. You may not have sufficient strength to do so.

Instead, emulate the example of water. Pause and build up strength until the obstacle no longer represents a blockage for you. To increase your strength you must rely on others. Bring together those who can help you. Seek advice from appropriate sources. Get in touch with your divine nature. If you then follow through with persistence and patience, you will meet with remarkable progress.”


- I Ching: 39

"Here there are no griots, only poets. You think that you are leading an extraordinary life and that people see you as you would like them to. You adorn yourself with your writing. It becomes your identity, your bread and butter, and your reason for living. You begin to believe in what people say. You become locked up in your creation, become submerged in words, and sentences suffocate you in the solitude of your retreat. They make you forget the blood and the dust." --Veronique Tadjo, As the Crow Flies

someone has asked me why i shared the passage on loneliness in the previous post. it isn't a subject i relish discussing, though i must confess that my journey in nigeria in recent months has at times been an emotionally taxing and lonely one. it's not a common thing in ibibio culture to talk about the past, let alone write about it. we are still largely living an oral history. the fact that i'm writing at all--about my family's history, no less--makes me odd, even solitary.

while i usually could care less about going it alone, this week it finally got the better of me, after a disappointing interview with a couple of nuns, former students of my mother's, that i'd traveled over an hour to meet. they were at a voters registration center, too busy to really talk and, at the end of it all, refused to let me take their picture because they weren't 'well dressed.'

i was fed up. tired of explaining to other people, who would rather not disturb the ground, why i am digging into the past, why i want to write it down, why i'm asking questions about things they find it hard or painful to remember; tired of making countless trips to the village, meeting strangers who didn't like the way i dressed or how i talked, and having to smile and coax them into talking anyway; tired of trying to piece my mother's life together from the most paltry of details, a faded picture, and my overtaxed imagination; and tired of the very act of writing itself, of going deep into memory and the past, which is its own loneliness.

when i got back from my meeting with the nuns, i lay in bed the rest of the day alternately crying and staring blankly at the television. enough. i had gone as far as i could conceivably go and simply wasn't going to do any more. i was going back to new york to eat sushi and vegan chocolate cake. what the hell was i doing in akwa ibom, anyways?

as i lay there despairing, i opened my copy of wild mind and found the chapter on loneliness staring up at me. i really needed the reminder that it is only loneliness (and fatigue and frustration) and should not 'toss me away' from the work. it is a necessary means to an end. it is not forever; nor is it death. it would be a far worse fate to avoid the discomfort and, in my final hours, despair that i wasn't brave enough to go there, to sit there, to write and do something positive for my own soul. --AL.

"When I finished writing Writing Down the Bones in Santa Fe in 1984, I went to visit [my Zen Buddhist teacher Katagiri] Roshi in Minneapolis. I showed him the book. I said, 'Roshi, I need a teacher again. The people in Santa Fe are crazy. They drift from one thing to another.'

He shook his head. 'Don't be so greedy. Writing is taking you very deep. Continue to write.'

'But Roshi,' I said to him, 'it is so lonely.'

He lifted his eyebrows. 'Is there anything wrong with loneliness?' he asked.

'No, I guess not,' I said.

Then we talked of other things. Suddenly, I interrupted him. 'But, Roshi, you have sentenced me to such loneliness. Writing is very lonely,' I stressed again.

'Anything you do deeply is very lonely. There are many Zen students here, but the ones that are going deep are very lonely.'

'Are you lonely?' I asked him.

'Of course,' he answered. 'But I do not let it toss me away. It is just loneliness.'"

-- from Natalie Goldberg's Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life

after a long stint in brazil, where she works as a consultant, my friend l.w. has resumed sending her monday sips of water. thought i'd share this one since it's about water--one of my favorite things! --AL.

A sip of living water

"Who hears the rippling of rivers will not utterly despair of anything.
We go to the river's edge for comfort, spiritual renewal,
meditation and solitude.
We go to the river to feel and know the continuance of life."

- Henry David Thoreau

i'm fast becoming one of those people who stops and stares at a puddle of water, noting how the sunlight bounces off its ripples and waiting for some bit of divine intuition to strike me. it seems silly and indulgent and maybe even childlike, though i don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. i've always taken myself a little too seriously, ever since i was a little girl, and so any hint of levity, for me, is progress.

my latest favorite thing is watching the visualization bars when i listen to music on my computer. it's intoxicating how all these different bars of light activate different parts of my brain and essentially massage them into activity after i've been staring at a white computer screen way too long waiting for the words to come.

i've also recently taken to writing at the schwartzmann library on 42nd street. painted on the ceiling, gilded in gold and copper leaves, is a picture of a blue and lavender and violet sky filled with stormy clouds. when i look up, for a moment i am not sitting at a long, oak desk, in the freezing air conditioning, writing this or that thing.

my yoga teacher did a meditation on waiting this week. she talked about how we're all so used to rushing ahead, getting disappointed when things don't pan out on our schedule, instead of waiting patiently and intentionally for our wishes to arrive.

i suppose i am now figuring out what to do while i wait for the muse, instead of pushing on in spite of her absence. it's funny how it seems like nothing is really happening, when in fact everything is happening, all at once, while i wait.

this was just an aside, and perhaps unnecessary. i have actual things to say, but later. now back to writing.