A Note & EXCERPTS: “Creating: Music for This Date II” & “En L’Air” [the January part] (the “missing” Sunday post) January 26, 2025
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Abhyasa, Art, Books, Changing Perspectives, Dharma, First Nations, Gratitude, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Music, One Hoop, Pain, Philosophy, Poetry, Suffering, Tragedy, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.Tags: 988, Alicia Keys, Bessie Coleman, Brave Bess, Connie Plantz, Delta Airlines Captain Stephanie Johnson, e e cummings, George James Firmage, Jamie Showkeir, January 26th, Mae Carol Jemison, Maren Showkeir, Margaret J. Wheatley, Queen Bess, Syreeta McFadden
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Many blessings to everyone, and especially those observing Maha Kumbh Mela.
May you be safe and protected / May you be peaceful and happy / May you be healthy and strong! May you soar!
This “missing” post for Sunday, January 26th features excerpts from two (2) posts about people born on today’s date. In addition to a slight revision, links and some formatting have been added/updated. You can request an audio recording of this practice or a previous practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.
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“One could interpret what has been written on these pages as self-help, pop psychology, a collection of great techniques to help people through difficult moments, or steps for getting better business results. In the author’s minds, there is something else that goes much deeper than that, and it is difficult to write about because it is so personal. It has to do with worthiness, purpose, humility, fear, anxiety, and facing the fact that it is up to you to create the world you want to live in, here and now, with the people in this room. It is about letting go of the wish that someone else will make it easier, pave the way, or take responsibility for you and your circumstances.”
— quoted from “Conclusion: Starting the Revolution” in Authentic Conversations: Moving from Manipulation to Truth and Commitment by Jamie Showkeir and Maren Showkeir (with forward by Margaret J. Wheatley)
Even though her birthday was yesterday, Alicia Keys (who was born January 25, 1981) shares many things with the people highlighted in the first excerpt below. In addition to having January birthdays, these are people known for being creative, for being uniquely themselves, and for inspiring others, moving people emotionally. Ms. Keys is also one of many people often quoted as saying that we all can (and must) play a part in creating the world in which we live. I mention her specifically, because one of the variations attributed to her instruct us to “Create the world you want, and fill it with the opportunities that matter to you.”
I would argue that some folks are very intentional and deliberate about creating those opportunities; some folks create those opportunities just by showing up in the world as themselves; and some people do both.
Creating: Music for This Date II
Click on the excerpt title below for the 2022 post about people born on January 26th (who inspired the playlist).
Creating: Music for This Date II (the “missing” Wednesday post)
“…the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself.
To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
— quoted from “A Poet’s Advice to Students” in A Miscellany by E. E. Cummings (revised edition edited by George James Firmage)
EN L’AIR (excerpted from a 2023 Black History note)
Born in today in 1892, in Atlanta, Texas, Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman became the first African American woman and first Native American to hold a pilot license when she earned her license from the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale on June 15, 1921. Her African American and Cherokee heritage also made her the first Black person and the first Indigenous American to earn an international pilot’s license. The woman who became known as “Queen Bess” and “Brave Bessie” would eventually make her living as a stunt pilot. Before that, however, she worked as a laundrywoman in Waxahachie, Texas. She earned enough money, taking in laundry and picking cotton, to attend one semester at the Colored Agricultural and Normal University (now Langston University, the only Historically Black Colleges or Universities in Oklahoma). When she had to drop out of college, due to a lack of funds, she followed her brothers to Chicago, Illinois, where she trained at Burnham School of Beauty Cultures to be a manicurist at a barbershop. In fact, it was at the barbershop that she was truly motivated to be a pilot.
Since no American flight school would train her, Bessie Coleman used the money she earned as a manicurist to learn French and then travel to France to take flying lessons. Once trained, she became a barnstorming daredevil. She was often criticized for the risks she took — and she was no stranger to accidents and broken bones and bruises. But, her aerobatic stunts gave her a platform which she used to speak out against racism, to promote aviation, and to encourage people of color to pursue aviation as career (or a hobby). Like some other prominent entertainers, she put her money where her mouth was and refused to perform at events where African Americans were not permitted to attend.
“One day John Coleman strutted into the White Sox Barbershop and began teasing Bessie. He started comparing African-American women to French women he had seen during [World War I]. John said that African-American women could not measure up to French women. The French women had careers. They even flew airplanes. He doubted that African-American women could fly like the French women. Bessie waited for the barbershop customers to stop laughing. Then she replied, ‘That’s it. You just called it for me.’”
— quoted from “Chapter 3. Seeking Independence” in The Life of Bessie Coleman: First African-American Woman Pilot by Connie Plantz
Ultimately, being a principled daredevil while also facing racism cost her. At one point, she opened up a beauty salon in Chicago in order to earn extra money so that she could buy her own airplane. Sadly and tragically, the airplane she was able to purchase was poorly maintained. On April 30, 1926, in preparation for an air show in Jacksonville, Florida, the plane spiraled out of control killing Bessie Coleman and her mechanic and publicist, William D. Wills, who had been piloting the airplane.
Although Bessie Coleman’s was just barely 34 years old when she tragically died doing what she loved, her legacy still lives. There have been schools, scholarships, and at least one library named after her. The United States Postal service issued a commemorative stamp in her honor in 1995; a Google Doodle was posted on what would have been her 125th birthday; she has been inducted into numerous halls of fame; and Mattel issued a Barbie doll in her honor in 2023. There are streets and boulevards named after her in the United States and there are airport roads bearing her name all over the world.
Bessie Coleman’s legacy also lives on in the lives of the women she inspires and the people they inspire. For instance, in 1992, Mae Carol Jemison (born October 17, 1956) became the first Black woman to travel into space. At the time, the African American chemical engineer and M. D. was working for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) as a mission specialist aboard the Space Shuttle Endeavour. She was making history at the age of 35 (mere weeks before her 36th birthday) — and she was doing it while carrying a photo of the Brave/Queen Bessie.
There have been also been commemorative fly-overs in her honor and, in 2022, a commemorative American Airlines flight (from Dallas-Fort Worth to Phoenix) was fully staffed by African American women: from the cockpit and aisles all the way to the tarmac (cargo and maintenance crew) there were sisters of the skies.
“For communities who may not fly often, that outreach and activism from Black aerospace professionals and pilots can combat the unknown and can help show Black communities that being a pilot is a real possibility.
‘A parent comes up to me and she says, “You a pilot?” and I said, “Yes, ma’am.” And she said, “They let us be pilots?” And that really was something,’ says [Delta Airlines Captain Stephanie Johnson]. ‘The parents don’t know what the opportunities are, because they didn’t grow up with opportunities. And so it was even more important, that “OK, this has just got to be my life because I can open people’s eyes.”’”
— quoted from the AFAR article “Where Are All the Black Women Pilots? – Nearly a century after Bessie Coleman first took to the skies, Black women remain a rarity in the cockpit.” by Syreeta McFadden (February 20, 2020)
CLICK ON THE EXCERPT TITLE BELOW FOR MORE!
Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “01262022 Creating: Music for This Date II”]
NOTES & CORRECTIONS
NOTE: The playlists are slightly different, because the YouTube playlists includes some additional videos “after the practice” of songs included in the practice portion of the playlist.
2025 REVISION: A slight change in timing/duration & tempo may affect how the playlists work with earlier practices.
2022 REVISION: I remixed the YouTube playlist after the 4:30 practice, because I had erroneously used the extended version of a song. Additionally, As I was closing my browser tabs, I realized that I overlooked a birthday (and I’m kicking myself for it)! I’ve updated the playlist so that the before/after music includes a track for Maria von Trapp, born January 26,1905, in Vienna, Austria.
If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can dial 988 (in the US) or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also call this TALK line if you are struggling with addiction or involved in an abusive relationship. The Lifeline network is free, confidential, and available to all 24/7. YOU CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING.
White Flag is a new app, which I have not yet researched, but which may be helpful if you need peer-to-peer (non-professional) support.
If you are a young person in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgement-free place to talk, you can also click here to contact the TrevorLifeline (which is staffed 24/7 with trained counselors).
### At some point, you just have to SOAR! ###
Bird on Fire (a special Black History note) February 3, 2023
Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Art, Changing Perspectives, Healing Stories, Music, New Year, Philosophy, Women, Yoga.Tags: Alicia Keys, ballet, Black History Month, Carlos Acosta, Dr. Josselli Audain Deans, Igor Stravinsky, Jarrett Hill, Lauren Anderson, Margaret Fuhrer, Misty Copeland, MOBBallet, Raven Wilkinson, Sandra Organ Solis, Sergei Denham, Sylvester Campbell, Tre'vell Anderson, Yakov Polonsky
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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 Thursday, February 2nd. Yes, it was Groundhog Day. Yes, it was Groundhog Day (and you can click here to read last year’s related post). It was also the 12th day of the Spring Festival, which is another day when people eat “clean” (more on that in the Friday post).
“Black History is Happening Every Day.”
– a segment on the podcast FANTI, hosted by Jarrett Hill and Tre’vell Anderson
If you spend some time in my classes and/or peruse my blog, it doesn’t take long to notice that I use dates, historical figures, and special events, as jumping off points. They are a way to get everyone on the same page, to give people a frame of reference – especially if I’m going to delve into some aspect of Eastern philosophy that may be unfamiliar to most people in my classes. Sharing people’s stories, cultures, and histories is also a way to cultivate empathy and curiosity. Plus, I’m a fan of knowledge and, well… the more you know….
As much as I endeavor to diversify my “curriculum” and playlists (and have been known to “randomly” throw in extra Irish musicians and historical figures at the beginning of March), I don’t typically spend a whole month talking about non-religious cultural observations. Oh, sure, I’ve devoted several Aprils-worth of classes to poetry and if you show up at a class during the eleventh month of the Gregorian calendar, there’s about a 20% chance I’ll be sporting a moustache (if you mou’, you mou’), but I don’t really focus on one group of people during a single month (or week). When I mention that it’s Black History Month – or Native American Heritage Month or Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month – that reference is just a footnote at the beginning of the month (or week), because I agree with two of my favorite podcasters: Black History is Happening Every Day! Actually, I think that’s true of every demographic in America: everyone is making history every day.
Sometimes, unfortunately, human history is really tragic and horrific. In fact, someone once gave my a calendar full of really horrible things that had been done to African Americans on any given day throughout the year. I appreciated the gift – and have learned a lot from it – but it’s never my go-to reference source. It’s not that I steer away from hard and tragic stuff; but that’s not all of life. Life is full of ups and downs and lots of things in between. So, I highlight people, events, and things that I can see as a reflection of life. When I remember or discover something and/or someone that resonates with me, I consider how it can be a gateway into the philosophical practice. This is very much in keeping with the way ancient philosophy (and religious) teachers taught. It’s just that rather than making up stories (parables), I’m using true stories and tales. And, more often than not, someone shares with me that they had never heard the story I told or had forgotten it and appreciated the reminder.
Recently, however, I have noticed how much the subjects on which I choose to focus – the kinds of subjects I have chosen for over a decade – are being “outlawed” by certain policymakers around the country. Recently, I have started thinking about how much of the history that was not being told up until recently is getting banned. Recently, I have thought more and more about the ramifications of losing things we may never get back; of losing the truth we may never get back. So, for Black History Month 2023, I am going to highlight some people and events that don’t get a lot of “air time.” They may not all be the focus of the next few weeks of practice, but they will be here… for anyone who is curious.
“She’s living in a world and it’s on fire
Filled with catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away
Oh, oh oh oh oh
She got both feet on the ground
And she’s burning it down
Oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh
She got her head in the clouds
And she’s not backing down
This girl is on fire
This girl is on fire
She’s walking on fire
This girl is on fire
Looks like a girl, but she’s a flame
So bright, she can burn your eyes”
– quoted from the song “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys
Earlier in my life, I had the great pleasure of working with some of the most amazing classical ballet dancers on the planet – including several whose presence on the stage was groundbreaking and newsworthy. Sandra Organ, Lauren Anderson, and Carlos Acosta became, respectively, the first African American ballet dancer at Houston Ballet, one of the first African American principal dancers at a major classical ballet company, and the first (Black) Cuban male principal dancer at a major classical ballet company (outside of Cuba). Each of them made it possible for more dancers of color to make a name for themselves. Each of them continues to contribute to the world of dance. What doesn’t always make the news, however, is that each of them dance (and now direct) in the footsteps of Raven Wilkinson.
Born February 2, 1935, in New York City, Anne Raven Wilkinson loved dance at a very early age. Her mother, Anne James Wilkinson, studied ballet in Chicago before getting married and starting a family with Dr. Frost Birnie Wilkinson, a dentist who had attended Dartmouth University and graduated from Harvard Medical School. After watching Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo performing Coppélia (when she was about five), her mother tried to register her for classes at the School of American Ballet. Historically, students could start training at New York City Ballet’s feeder school if they were 8 years old or would turn 8 during the year they started at the school. The Wilkinsons, however, were told that Raven had to be 9. Not to be thwarted, Raven was signed up for lessons in the Dalcroze method, a style of music education. When she turned 9, her uncle (a surgeon who graduated from Darmouth and Harvard) gifted her lessons at the Swoboda School, later known as the Ballet Russe School, where she trained with dancers from the Bolshoi Theatre.
In 1951, Sergei Denham, director of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, bought the Swoboda School, making it a feeder school for the very company that had inspired Raven Wilkinson to dance. She studied under the new leadership for three years before she auditioned. Even though at least one of her peers told her she would not get hired because she was Black, she learned the aesthetics and dance vocabulary she would need to technically blend in. Then, in 1954, she auditioned for Sergei Denham for the first time. In all, she would audition three times (and get rejected twice) before she was hired on a temporary basis. It was temporary, she was told, because the director was considering hiring another dancer (in Chicago) partway through the tour.
“During that same meeting, I also told Mr. Denham that I didn’t want to put the company in danger, but I also never wanted to deny what I was. If someone questioned me directly, I couldn’t say, ‘No, I’m not black.’ Some of the other dancers suggested that I say I was Spanish. But that’s like telling the world there’s something wrong with what you are.”
– Raven Wilkinson quoted from the Pointe Magazine interview ” Raven Wilkinson’s Extraordinary Life: An Exclusive Interview” by Margaret Fuhrer (dated June 1, 2014)
Raven Wilkinson started dancing for the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in 1955 – 14 years before a company devoted to African American ballet dancers, Dance Theatre of Harlem, opened across the street from where her father’s office. By her second season she was dancing as a soloist.* She toured the United States while dancing roles in Les Sylphide, Le Beau Danube, Giselle, Graduation Ball, Harlequinade, and Swan Lake. Of course, touring the United States in the 1950s meant dealing with segregation and racism in the South. On the one hand, Ms. Wilkinson was light-skinned and could “pass” – and classical ballet was/is so closely associated with whiteness that almost no one considered the possibility that there was a Black dancer in the company, even though there were dancers from South America. On the other hand, she had no intention of lying. The company had encounters with the Ku Klux Klan – in and out of their robes – and in 1957, a “whites only” hotel owner in Atlanta, Georgia questioned her race and she answered as she had always intended to answer: truthfully.
After the incident in Atlanta, Sergei Denham and the company took extra-ordinary measures to ensure the safety of Raven Wilkinson and the other dancers. Sometimes, segregation forced her to travel ahead of the company. Sometimes, segregation and racism forced her out of roles. A member of the artistic staff told her that she had hit the proverbial “glass ceiling” and that she would be better off retiring and starting an “African dance” company. When she pointed out that she wasn’t trained in African dance, Sergei Denham backed her up, even offered her a featured role in Raymonda. She would appreciate his support later in life, but at the time, she was increasingly frustrated. She retired from the the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in 1961; but she did so with the intention of finding another, more progressive, company. After being rejected by the other major companies in New York City, she gave up, started working a “regular gig,” and even considered becoming a nun. Two years after leaving the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, Raven Wilkinson put her pointe shoes back on and went back to dance. Then she got a call from a Black dancer in the Netherlands.
“‘I regret that he was not seen in the United States as a dancer because there was living proof of a danseur noble no matter what color, and he was amazing.’”
– quoted from MOBBallet.org (cited, Dr. Josselli Audain Deans PhD, Dance Magazine, November 1997, pages 87-88)
Sylvester Campbell, was an African American ballet danseur from Oklahoma, who trained at the (historically black) Jones-Haywood School of Ballet (founded Washington D. C., in 1941) and at the School of American Ballet (the school that, years earlier, rejected Raven Wilkinson for being too young). In 1960, Mr. Campbell started dancing principal roles at Het Nationale Ballet (the Dutch National Ballet), After dancing there for several years, he convinced Raven Wilkinson to relocate to Holland where she become a second soloist and expanded her repertoire, adding roles in Serenade, Giselle, Symphony in C, La Valse, The Snow Maiden, and The Firebird (which was originally created for the original Ballet Russes).
Both Americans would eventually leave the Netherlands because they were homesick. Sylvester Campbell went on to be a principal dancer at Royal Winnipeg Ballet and then director of the dance Department of the Baltimore School for the Arts. Raven Wilkinson danced with the New York City Opera (until 1985) and then appeared as a character dancer and actor until 2011, when the company was no longer in residence at Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. She also taught ballet at the Harlem School of the Arts.
All the way up until her death in 2018, Raven Wilkinson was heralded as a role model and mentor for dancers like Misty Copeland, the first African American principal dancer at American Ballet Theatre.
“I loved Holland, but I missed my own country. I missed the very thing we complain about when we’re here—America’s diversity of philosophy, of feeling, of custom. It makes for a difficult society sometimes, and yet you feel its absence in a place like Holland, where everyone has the same history. So I came home.”
– Raven Wilkinson quoted from the Pointe Magazine interview ” Raven Wilkinson’s Extraordinary Life: An Exclusive Interview” by Margaret Fuhrer (dated June 1, 2014)
PRACTICE NOTES: If I were to lead a practice dedicated to Raven Wilkinson, I’d focus on how the situations that make it hard to practice satya (“truth”), are also the situations when it is most important to practice that second yama (external “restraint” or universal “commandment”). There would probably be an emphasis on poses with external hip rotation, counterbalanced with poses that internally rotate the hips and thighs – plus something to open up the heart and the throat chakras (as they are related to “the gifts we extend out to the world,” determination, and expression). There would also be some awareness of “long lines,” articulating the feet, and dancing the arms. Of course, we would work our way into Naṭarājāsana (“Dancer’s Pose”) – all while listening to the highs and lows of Igor Stravinsky’s “L’Oiseau de feu” (“The Firebird”).
*NOTE: By some accounts, Raven Wilkinson was promoted to soloist, but other accounts indicate that she was given soloist roles without the title (or the paycheck that might have come with it).
Errata: Raven Wilkinson taught at the Harlem School of the Arts not at Dance Theatre of Harlem as implied by my earlier type-o.
A Joyful Practice 