“I pray a lot. I try to stay in a state of grace. It is very important to be centered in a state of grace so that one is open to the Creator and creativity,” says Maya, adding, “There are a lot of different ways to put yourself in a state of grace. You fall out of it all the time but you forgive yourself and come back.”
Living in A State of Grace
by Carolyn A. Butts with Sharrif Simmons
Maya Angelou is an African statue come to life. Her face is
strong, ageless and broad. Her eyes are all knowing and inviting. A towering
figure, she strode through the Algonquin Hotel's lobby never missing a step as
she offered a smile and good morning to other guests. She wore an impeccably
tailored red skirt suit and her short hair was perfectly coifed, softly framing
her face.
Easing elegantly into a lounge chair, Maya crosses her legs at
the ankle and sips Chardonnay from a long stemmed glass. The legendary poet
talks about everything — the popularity of her new book, poetry, spirituality
and young people. She is deeply concerned about the rising number of young
Black men who are getting incarcerated, maimed or killed.
Maya recalls breaking up a bitter dispute between two young men
arguing in the street. She says people scattered fearing the two might pull out
guns but she stayed with an older man to part the fighters. Working to sooth
the nerves of one young man, she pushed him to face his own pain.
“I took the young man aside and I said 'I need you. There are too many
of our young Black men dying out here. We need you,’” recalls Maya. “He
rested his head on my shoulder and cried and I began crying.”
As a mother, sister and grandmother, she is alarmed about the
tragic circumstances befallen African-American communities and she has a simple
explanation for the violence haunting our neighborhoods.
“This is going to sound really OUT so I will take a little drink
of wine,” says Maya dropping her voice an octave.
“At the risk of sounding like an absolute fundamentalist,"
she pauses, “I do believe the tug between good and evil is more tangible
[today].
“We see its evidence more all over the world. All over,” says
Maya, lifting a long slim index finger and twirling an imaginary globe. “Take
that globe and whirl it. Stop it with your finger — anywhere. Hate, violence,
bloodshed, rape, pillage.”
Pausing, she adds, “There is something afoot folks.”
Evil? It's not an explanation most people, besides church
folks, would consider when thinking about the devastation of crime, violence
and poverty in Black communities. But the 65-year-old Reynolds Professor of American
Studies at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, N.C., isn't most people.
Maya has seen her share of evil. Evil came to her bed each night
in the guise of her mother's boyfriend who raped her at age eight. Following
the traumatic abuse, Maya refused to talk for five years until a friend helped
her face the evil that was done to her and rise above it. Maya talks about the
uneasiness of today's generation to deal with intangible concepts.
“What we can do is see it, admit it, not turn our heads and say
‘Oh, I don't believe that.’ You have to make a choice and not just go with the
wind,” says Maya, “It sounds like a small thing but I have a feeling it is
tantamount.”
She says African-American communities must rediscover their
spirituality and return to a state of grace. Maya's short book Wouldn't Take
Nothing for My Journey Now tells one how to gain peace of mind and sense of self.
“I pray a lot. I try to stay in a state of grace. It is very
important to be centered in a state of grace so that one is open to the Creator
and creativity,” says Maya, adding, “There are a lot of different ways to put
yourself in a state of grace. You fall out of it all the time but you forgive
yourself and come back.”
Everywhere she goes, she tries to inspire people to reconnect
with the Creator. In Oprah Winfrey's television movie “There Are No Children
Here,” she plays a grandmother who helps her daughter and grandchildren hold
onto their faith while living in a declining Chicago neighborhood.
“It's very sad to see a young person become cynical because it
means he or she has gone from knowing nothing to believing nothing. It's like
looking into a chasm,” says Maya.
She believes people must free their souls of anger and negative
thoughts. A spiritual cleansing must happen for the truth to rise to the top.
She shares a favorite tale about a Phoebe Beasley picture depicting eight
African-American women, varying in shades of brown and shapes sitting on fold
up chairs. One chair is empty.
“They all look like women in my grandmother's prayer group and
the empty chair represents my grandmother who died 20 years ago” says Maya who
traveled with the painting during her directing days.
“I just put that painting right across from me and if I have a
question about anything having to do with morals, with principles, with right
and wrong action...I would sit in front of that painting and think, now, ‘What
would mama say?’
“Before I can even get the question out, I hear her say, ‘Now,
sister, you know what's right.’”
“Each of us knows what's right. People have to be encouraged
because they already know what's right,” says Maya, “But you have to ask — Give
me your best. Give me your grace. Give me your courtesy. Give it to me.”
© January 1994-2013, African Voices Magazine, Archives
