My year began in an underheated house several of us had
taken on as a major renovation project—a beautiful, sprawling, turn of the
century multi-family building. We awoke in rooms where our breath visibly hung
in the air, and we reluctantly hauled ourselves out from under our 3-4 blankets
and hot water bottles. Somehow we made it through the record-breaking cold of
Detroit winter, despite the physical, mental and emotional toll.
Surely our ideology helped us survive, as we carried on the
mission of New Work, striving to create a sustainable community and meaningful
livelihoods. We shared meals, lots of music, yoga, capoeira, community brunches
and potlucks, and neighborhood association meetings.
Spring exploded into gardens, and with lots of support, we
built a large garden on Field Street. It was across the street from our
neighborhood matriarch, Ms. Grace Durr, and she would watch us work from her
porch, let us carry buckets of water from her backyard spigot, and we would
bring her whatever was ready to harvest that week—a handful of green beans,
collards, broccoli. Little did we know that our beloved Ms. Durr would pass
away that Fall. It makes our garden that much sweeter to know that we gave her
a bit of enjoyment and nourishment and a place of connection while she was
alive. Ms. Durr’s quiet and steady strength touched several generations and
many lives as she provided shelter and care and conversation and love from her
home of decades on Field Street.
With the heat of summer, I moved on, and prepared for the
next stage of my journey: Korea. I left Field Street for the first time since
I’d arrived in Detroit in February 2013, and took a respite in Corktown’s
historic Spaulding Court, where I enjoyed my fabulous roommates and neighbors,
the abundant community garden, our neighbor Brother Nature Farm and baby Wren,
and Meiko’s Thursday night food truck parties.
Meanwhile, I had been madly preparing for the next level of
Iyengar Yoga teaching, and to my joy and relief, passed in August, to the
Intermediate Junior III certification. Only a week or so after the test, we
learned that our beloved teacher, Shri BKS Iyengar, Guruji, had passed away, at
age 95. All over the world, several
generations of Iyengar teachers and students, as well as yoga practitioners of
all traditions, grieved and honored the remarkable life of this most noble soul
who revolutionized the teaching of this ancient art, science and philosophy. I
am so honored to have been in his gracious presence, and the grieving and
celebrating continue.
At the same time, Detroit’s beloved Grace Lee Boggs began to
actively decline. After a lifetime of dedication to uplifting the human
struggle and articulating visionary leadership, she prepared herself to move
on. The community gathered to provide unconditional love and support.
Thankfully, Grace is still with us and kicking, and we savor each day with her
as she inches toward her 100th birthday in June.
On September 1, after years of planning, I finally made it
to Korea. (You can read all about it in other blogposts.) To summarize, I
devoted myself to many hours of study daily, in a most humble effort to regain
my first language. I way underestimated how much time and energy this would
take; I still feel like an ignoramus as soon as the conversation becomes the least bit sophisticated. I also visited
several alternative communities doing some fascinating work which I will detail
in another letter, and met lots of artists and activists. I also offered what I
knew of Iyengar Yoga to a community of eager students who have not had adequate
opportunities within Korea to advance their studies. We bonded and appreciated
each other deeply. Finally I got to reconnect with many family members, who collectively
served as surrogate parents. And so, I am ending the year in Korea.
This was an awakening year on the American clock of the
world, a year in which the brutality which is and always has been America was made
abundantly clear to the entire world through the much publicized police
slayings of unarmed black men: Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Dontre Hamilton, to
name just a few. A Korean friend, lifelong activist Eugene Soh, took one look
at the footage of Ferguson protests and observed, “This is not a police
force—this is the militarization of the state.” After decades of dictatorships,
Koreans know from military regimes, so they know one when they see one.
Our global current reality is that as circumstances become
more extreme—more unemployment, more poverty, increasing gaps between rich and
poor, shrinking natural resources—those in power will feel more threatened and
become more violent. These circumstances require each of us to speak out, for
if we do not, we will be co-opted into complicity with the status quo.
The bleakness of our times braces us like a cold but
refreshing blast of winter air. It is what it is. Our minds can trick us (“the
house is not actually on fire, it’s just a spark, we can contain it…”) but our
bodies speak truth, our bodies know what is real. How will we respond to this
reality?
Herein lies the hope of the New Year. The only hope, let’s
face it. So, dear friends, what will you manifest in 2015? How will you respond
to increasing militarization of America, to the ongoing sanctioned killing of
black and brown bodies? What beautiful movements of resistance, survival, and
healing will you enact this year? What will you grow? What will you create? What
words and gestures will you use towards what end? I eagerly await your
responses.
Meanwhile, I close with the observations of the great James
Baldwin, whose writings are more relevant than ever these days:
"The poet or the revolutionary is there to articulate the necessity, but until the people themselves apprehend it, nothing can happen... Perhaps it can't be done without the poet, but it certainly can't be done without the people. The poet and the people get on generally very badly, and yet they need each other. The poet knows it sooner than the people do. The people usually know it after the poet is dead; but that's all right. The point is to get your work done, and your work is to change the world."
"The poet or the revolutionary is there to articulate the necessity, but until the people themselves apprehend it, nothing can happen... Perhaps it can't be done without the poet, but it certainly can't be done without the people. The poet and the people get on generally very badly, and yet they need each other. The poet knows it sooner than the people do. The people usually know it after the poet is dead; but that's all right. The point is to get your work done, and your work is to change the world."
As we gather spiritual strength, hope, and faith in these (now shortening) winter nights, let’s get on with the work. And may it be beautiful.
In love and struggle,
Sister
Hong Gwi-Seok (Peggy Hong)
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