THIS IS LOVE

I awoke to Spouse climbing the steps, white postal envelope in hand. Something for me? No recent orders from Amazon, nothing from Carol's Daughter nor Sweet Raine.

I check the return address and smile. Inside, a simple card:

"Dear Miss Angel: Thank you for your friendship."

and, CIVIL WARS by June Jordan, a collection of essays, copyright 1984. Pages old and yellow, just like I like 'em. I held it to my heart, inhaled the scent on the card and closed my eyes.

How did she know my feelings for sister June? How did she know how much I miss stumbling across her essays in Mother Jones? Does she know I've patterned the collective's Open Mic/Open Mind after June's Poetry for the People at UCLA Berkley?

The package was from a sister I have come to love through the miles; a sister whose words have been a balm to my soul, a warm blanket about weary knee; a woman whose love I have felt through this thing we call a "mother board," -- an ancient, tribal love, communal and safe. Her love is black hands on steel drums; a pounding rhythm that courses through my veins.

The first principle of Shambhala vision is not being afraid of who you are. Ultimately, that is the definition of bravery and hence, warriorship. Warrior in the sense of living life without fear. Lately, I have come to understand the deep, abiding love that can exist without fear, without consequence, between women. I am not ashamed to say that I am in love with my women friends in a way that, I'm sure, eludes Western understanding and hence, Western definition. Here, we limit the state of of being "in love" to that which is sexual. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about a love that is spiritual; a union of hearts and souls. A balm kinda love. I'm not even talking about "Girl, let's go to the mall," kinda love -- especially since none of my friends are mall types and neither am I. I am talking about walking down a sacred path and seeing her face, taking her hand in yours, assured that you are indeed gonna be okay.

The woman energy around me right now is definately in the flow of change. One friend is on her way to grad school, pursuing her dream of an MFA. Another just sold her house to finance her PhD at Howard U and last week, successfully coordinated a national conference for the anniversary of the Brown v Board of Education decsion. Another friend spent Sunday evening at my home -- she massaged my scalp with Healthy Hair Butter from Carol's Daughter, my temples with a soothing, calming oil from Aveda, and began teaching me how to retwist and maintain my own locs. She is writing a memoir, chronicling the ten year life of her locs that fall just above her waist; amber colored wavy ropes that cascade around her shoulders like soft rain. We called it "Sacred Beauty Day," where we talked about her tenth year of natural, organic living; we made plans to go down to the Co-Op to shop for our families. We talked about obesity in the community and our own commitments to better health and wellness; we talked about Queen Afua and the "Womb" necklace her mother made and blessed for her. We talked about the altars we are in the midst of putting together and the items we are selecting; we talked about her flowing sarong wraps that she wears everywhere, even around the house, to remind herself, her man, and her children that she is indeed a Queen. I brought down my collection of wraps, some purchased in the islands, and told her that I was saving them for the beach and when I go back. She said, Saving them? "Sister, there is no such thing as saving beauty. Beauty is everyday." We exchanged different tying methods for wearing them as dresses, skirt wraps and scarves about our head. "It's all in the tuck," she said, as she threw her locs forward and wrapped her locs into a crown of glory. Spouse says he loves me moving about our sacred space in my wraps and I like the unrestricted flowing feel. The children said they are beautiful, and little man likes to touch the fringes that dangle above my ankles.

Another friend just announced that she too is putting her house on the market -- pursuing her "last hurrah" home, someplace rural and quiet, as far from the noise as possible. She plans to grow her own vegetables and herbs and spend her days consulting on water treatment/conservation plans.

Today, an impromptu trip to Sweet Raine threw me onto the same city block as a friend who announced her published piece in the city paper. Her first Op-Ed credit. We celebrated over lunch and a leisure stroll in the boutique, sniffing scented soaps and more of Carol's Daughter Body Balms.

Maybe it's the Shambhala training that's causing such an awakening, an awareness of the goodness that lies in every day. Maybe it's the meditation. Maybe it's the energy. I don't know. But I do know that this is love.

ANGEL


"The Shambhala teachings are founded on the premise that there is basic human wisdom that can help to solve the world's problems. This wisdom does not belong to any one culture or religion, nor does it come only from the West or the East. Rather, it is a tradition of human warriorship that has existed in may cultures at many times throughout history." Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior