Rooted Deep in a Moment (a special [revised] Black History note) February 4, 2023

Happy Spring Festival! Happy Carnival! Peace and ease to all during this “Season of Non-violence” and all other seasons!

This is a special post for Saturday, February 4^th, which is also the 14^th day of the Lunar New Year and the penultimate day of the Spring Festival. Most of the information below was posted in some way, shape, or form in 2022. This slight revision puts things in a special light. NOTE: There was no ZOOM practice today; however, you can still request a related recording via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

“I want to shake people up for a little bit. I want people to be surprised. I want to go back and play with the past, but I want to do it in a way that, hopefully, enlightens us. Ready?”

“Every week, I’m going to take you back into the past, to examine something that I think has been overlooked… or misunderstood.”

“You have to want me to tell you a story”

– quoted from Malcolm Gladwell’s 2016 Slate introduction to the “Revisionist History” podcast 

A good story, a good practice, and a good celebration have several things in common – including a beginning, a middle, and an end. In all three, the beginning gets us ready for the middle, and the middle gets us ready for the end. Good writers (and their editors) “place things in a special way” – just as we do in a vinyasa practice – and Anton Chekov’s advice (that an element introduced in the first act must be used by the third) can also be very useful in any physical practice. Again, all of this is also true of a good celebration: you want everything ready before (or just after) the guests arrive; you want things placed in a way allow an easy flow to mixing and mingling; you don’t want to run out of sustenance or entertainment – nor do you want “too many” leftovers; and you definitely want people to leave with a desire to come back for more.

Oh, yes, and if you promise people a sweet or savory treat, Chekov says that you must keep your promises.

For most people who celebrate the 15-day Spring Festival, the 14^th day of the Lunar New Year is the penultimate day of the festival and a day of preparation for the Lantern Festival. People put the finishing touches on their lanterns and some present them for competitions. Feasts are being prepared, riddles are being written, and oranges are being signed – all with the hope that the rest of the year will be full of good fortune, good health, and good love: all the things that make for a good life.

“Each person must live their life as a model for others.”

–  Rosa Parks

A person’s life (as we know it here on Earth) also has a beginning, middle, and end. You could say people have lots of them – which is very true since the story of each person’s life is actually a lot of little stories. We can think of those “little stories” as short stories or chapters or we can think of them as defining moments; and we all have defining moments in our lives.

These may be moments that we use to describe the trajectory of our lives or maybe moments that we use to describe ourselves. Either way, when a single moment plays a big part in who we are and what’s important to us, we sometimes forget that that single moment – as important as it may be – is just a single part of our story. It’s part of a sequence of moments. It is the culmination of what’s happened before and the beginning of what happens next. It’s just preparation. Even when – or especially when – that moment is the story (that we tell), we have to be careful about how we frame it. It doesn’t matter if we are telling our story or someone else’s story; how we tell the story matters.

How we tell the story is one of the treats, one of the promises of the story – and, how we tell the story shines a light on why the story is important.

“I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear.”

–  Rosa Parks

Rosa Louise McCauley Parks was born February 4, 1913, in Tuskegee, Alabama. Her parents, Leona (née Edwards) and James McCauley, were a teacher and a carpenter, respectively. When they separated, Rosa and her younger brother moved with their mother to a farm in Pine Level (or Pine Tucky), an unincorporated rural community about 25 miles outside of Montgomery, Alabama. The farm they moved to belonged to Mrs. McCauley’s parents and it was there that Rosa Parks learned to sew and quilt. Even though she went to school for a bit, even started her secondary education, she ended up dropping out of school to take care of her mother and grandmother.

So it was that she grew up to be a housekeeper and a seamstress. She married Raymond Parks, a Montgomery barber, when she was 19 years old (in 1932) and he encouraged her to get her high school diploma. It wasn’t something that very many African-Americans had at the time, but Mr. Parks was very active in the advancement of the people. In fact, he was an active member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and, by 1943, she was too. Rosa Parks not only served as the NAACP secretary, she also worked with her husband on anti-rape campaigns and was a member of the League of Women Voters. She was determined to register to vote – which she finally did, on her third attempt. Although she attended Communist Party meetings with her husband, she was never a member. She did, however, practice haṭha yoga, the physical practice of yoga (as early as the 1960s).

A job at Maxwell Air Force Base exposed her to the possibilities of integration and then she  started working for a liberal white couple, Clifford and Virginia Durr. The Durr’s were not only liberal leaning, they were also fairly well connected. Both the Durrs were Alabama born and bred, but ended up furthering their education outside of Alabama. Mr. Durr attended Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar and then became a lawyer, whose income insulated the Durrs from some of the hardships others around them experienced during the Great Depression. Meanwhile, Mrs. Durr was essentially raised by Black women (as many children in well-to-do Southern homes were at the time). She then attended Wellesley College, where she regularly ate her meals with women of different races. Eventually, she befriend First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and become the sister-in-law of Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black. Given their backgrounds, it is not surprising that the Durr’s encouraged (and even financially supported), Rosa Parks’s activism.

During the summer of 1955, just before the murder of Emmett Till, Mrs. Parks attended trainings at the Highlander Folk School (now known as the Highlander Research and Education Center). The training, led by Septima Clark (the “Queen mother” or “Grandmother of the Civil Rights Movement), focused on civil disobedience, workers’ rights, and racial equity. The combination of the training, her previous life experience and activism, and the hot toddy of emotion bubbling up from the 1955 murders of Emmett Till and two Civil Rights activists (George W. Lee and Lamar “Ditney” Smith) proved to be a powerful force – a force, perhaps, that explains her hardened resolve on December 1, 1955.

It was a force – she became a force – that would not be moved; a force that led to progress.

“I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free…so other people would also be free.”

–  Rosa Parks

Samayama, comes from the root words meaning “holding together, tying up, binding.” It can also be translated as “integration.” In some traditions (e.g., religious law), it is defined as “self-restraint” or “self-control.” Patanjali used the term to describe the combined force of focus, concentration, and meditation – and he basically devoted a whole chapter of the Yoga Sūtras to the benefits of utilizing samyama. Interestingly, the chapter he devoted to the powers/abilities that come from applying samyama is called “Vibhūti Pada,” which is often translated into English as “Foundation (or Chapter) on Progressing.”

As I have previously mentioned, there are at least twenty different meanings of vibhūti, none of which appear to literally mean “progressing” in English. Instead, the Sanskrit word is most commonly associated with a name of a sage, sacred ashes, and/or great power that comes from great God-given (or God-related) powers. The word can also be translated into English as glory, majesty, and splendor – in the same way that Hod (Hebrew for “humility”) can also be observed as majesty, splendor, and glory in Kabbalism (Jewish mysticism). In this case, the “progressing” to which English translators refer is the process by which one accepts the invitation to a “high[er] location” or plane of existence.

According to yoga sūtra 3.53, applying samyama to a moment and it’s sequence (meaning the preceding and succeeding moments) leads to higher knowledge. This higher knowledge gives one a higher level of discernment; knowledge and discernment that transcends categories and fields of reference. It’s easy to look at what happened after Rosa Parks refused to move, but; to truly understand the power of that single moment, we have to also consider the moments that preceded it.

“You must never be fearful about what you are doing when it is right.”

–  Rosa Parks

In addition to some of what I’ve already referenced, it’s important to remember that December 1, 1955 wasn’t the first time that a Black person, let alone a Black woman, had defied the unjust laws and social conventions of the time. It wasn’t the first time it had happened that year. Remember, Claudette Colvin’s refusal to move and subsequent arrest happened in the spring of 1955. Furthermore, it wasn’t even the first time that Rosa Parks had been in that situation… with that particular bus driver. In fact, Mrs. Parks and that particular driver (James F. Blake) had had multiple conflicts over the years.

One incident that stands out (because it is often highlighted) was in 1943, when he told her that, after she paid her fair at the front, she had to re-enter at the back of the bus. This was a city ordinance, but some drivers didn’t enforce it. For whatever the reason, there was conflict and when she exited the bus, he drove away before she could re-enter. (Note: This would have been right around the time she started actively working with the NAACP.) While Rosa Parks reportedly decided not to ride with that driver again, the driver was (allegedly) in the habit of driving past her when she was at a stop. Bottom line, there was a lot of water under the bridge between 1943 and 1955. Some of that proverbial water included Mr. Blake’s ongoing conflict with at least one other Black woman, Mrs. Lucille Times.

Mrs. Times, who died in 2021, and her husband Charlie were active members of the NAACP, registered voters, and activists. According to various reports, Lucille Times and James F. Blake were involved in a road rage incident that led to a physical altercation. That physical altercation led to Lucille Times’s decision – during the summer of 1955 – to “disrupt” Mr. Blake’s route by offering African-Americans rides. She continued that practice all the way through the official end of the Montgomery bus boycotts in December of 1956.

Finally, there’s the issue of the seat. Rosa Parks sat down in the “Colored” section of the bus. Somewhere along the route, the bus driver decided to make room for more white passengers by telling Black passengers to move. Then, after some grumbling and resistance, he moved the sign so that anyone who didn’t move (i.e., Rosa Parks) would officially be breaking the law.

“The only tired I was, was tired of giving in.”

–  Rosa Parks

So, there was Rosa Parks: Tired after working all day and then shopping for Christmas presents. Tired of people in her community not being guaranteed the rights promised to them. Tired of people in her community being murdered when they worked to legally secure their rights. Tired.

And there was the bus driver, who called the police and filed a complaint.

I will resist assigning any emotional underpinnings to his decisions. I haven’t found any quotes from him that would humanize him and make him more than a stereotype. But, then again, I don’t need to do that. Just as we can put ourselves in the shoes of 15-year old Claudette Colvin or Lucille Times or Rosa Parks, we could put ourselves in his shoes. We can, if it is in our practice, apply samyama to his thoughts (as reflected by his words, deeds, and physical expressions) to know his state of mind, as described in yoga sūtra 3.19. Similarly, we could apply samyama to his heart to deepen that understanding (see yoga sūtras 3.20 and 3.35). Remember, however, that this is not where the practice begins. Additionally, we would only apply samyama in this way to gain a deeper understanding of our own hearts and minds.

“I believe we are here on the planet Earth to live grow up and do what we can to make this world a better place for all people to enjoy freedom.”

–  Rosa Parks

PRACTICE NOTES: There is a bit of balance, in the form of symbolic marching, in most of the practices I lead that are related to the Civil Rights Movement. A practice dedicated to Rosa Parks, however, requires us to sit and focus on our roots.

To do what she did, Rosa Parks had to be rooted, grounded, and centered in her practice. She was also prepared and understood the significance of what she was doing – which is why I would typically highlight the literal meaning of vinyāsa (“to place in a special way”); how vinyāsa krama (“to place things in a special way” for a “step-by-step progression”) shows up in all good practices, regardless of the style or tradition; and why certain key/defining moments are in the practice. Finally, I might (as indicated above) place a little extra focus on the power of samyama.

A little something extra…

### “In this undiscovered moment / Lift your head up above the crowd / We could shake this world / If you would only show us how / Your life is now” JM ###