Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Opening My Heart to Grief and Joy

 
The countdown has begun. In 26 days I leave for India. Before I take off, my room will be packed up, and my years in Milwaukee will consist of a neat stack of boxes. I have given 6 boxes of writing, publications, notebooks, and correspondence to Milwaukee Public Library. Many of my personal belongings are now on “long-term indefinite loan” to friends, including my piano, my books, which will remain in the Eight Limbs Housing Co-op lending library, my hand-hewn kitchen table, artwork, dishes, and the little bit of furniture I own.

My room at 8LHC will be occupied by Iyengar Yoga student and budding teacher, Helena Fahnrich, who moves in January 31. Helena, Sara Arends Haggith, Tracey Radloff, and others, will be providing classes at Riverwest Yogashala come January. The tasks of running Yogashala will be assumed by the Board and the newly empowered committees. Our site manager will be Iyengar Yoga student and enthusiast, Hart Ford, and our newsletter editor, the multi-talented Iyengar Yoga teacher, mom, and writer, Jackie Lalley.

Detroit beckons. I will spend Christmas day there with my daughter Meiko, son Malachi who will be stateside after a semester in India, Grace Lee Boggs, and perhaps a few friends from both Milwaukee and Detroit. When I arrive around 5 February, I will move into an intentional community house owned by the Catholic Capuchins, with 3 of their volunteers, on the same block as the Boggs Center. I will serve as house manager in exchange for a room. I am scheduled to cook dinner for Grace every night.

My official farewell is Sunday, 3 February at Yogashala. I will offer a workshop, “Teachings From Pune,” sharing highlights from my month of study at the Iyengar Institute, from 2-4:30pm, followed by Riverwest Yogashala’s Annual Membership Party from 5-7pm, followed by an open house to drop by and share a hug. Before that, I am trying to schedule a house concert for you all to hear the songs that have been pouring forth this Fall, with my collaborators, especially Jess Vega.

How do I feel about all of this? A few days ago, I was practicing Urdhva Dhanurasana, listening to Meklit Hadero, and in between repetitions of the pose, just letting the tears flow. I am flabbergasted at the depth of change I am choosing. I am frustrated at the work left undone in Milwaukee. I am scared of letting go so profoundly. I am heartbroken about leaving friends who have shaped me, taught me so much, given immeasurably to me, and have graciously welcomed what I can offer.

At the same time, I am thrilled to be leaving for study in India, where I can focus and give myself much-needed self-care to develop my yoga practice, live simply, and transition to my new life. I eagerly anticipate my life in Detroit, studying weekly with Laurie Blakeney, seeing Grace daily, and spending time with Meiko, my soul sister Marcia Lee, and others. I look forward to radically streamlining my life, taking a break from full-time teaching, and taking time to read, write, cook, and create. My goal in Detroit is to Not Be Busy. We shall see how long that lasts, but even a few weeks or months of this will do my spirit much good.

I plan to be back in Milwaukee for Riverwest Yogashala’s Spring Equinox 108 Surya Namaskar, when I will also teach workshops. You will not be totally rid of me. Through the tears, working on my tight upper back and shoulders, I open my heart to the coming weeks and months with both grief and joy.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

BURQA

Peggy in "Change+ing Room," at Fahimeh Vahdat's exhibit, October 2012
  




















remove glasses and
slip under black cloak
I peer through a slit
pressing down on thick eyelids

            inside mother’s protective womb
            cushioned in layers of fluid, muscle, bony pelvis, skin
            you cannot see me but I hear you
            hear everything

in silent blackout
breath condenses
under synthetic silk
           
            forming heart, lungs, ovaries
            limbs curled into trunk

walking through a crowd
space clears for me
like a road opens for an ambulance

            you do not know what I will become
            you do not know the generations of women’s rage I embody
            to you I am a bump yet unconscious

sensing my silent steps
conversation stops
sitting still I become invisible
eavesdrop on the last time I was in Turkey
and dinner plans
downtown or third ward?

            gestational I am carrier
            of my grandmother’s untold stories
            the egg that would hatch me
            formed in her womb
            as she carried my mother

eyes glance then dart away           
better to not look
an unspoken complicity
let’s not talk to her

            what lengths will you take to ignore me?
            what would I reveal given the chance?
            what threat does the curve of my hips present?
            clavicles, cleavage, clitoris?
           
cloaked and alone
in the eye of my own churning hurricane
I must hide my hands under black cloth
afraid of what they will commit
           

 

Monday, November 19, 2012

EMBRACING IMPERMANENCE

 
summary of my past weekend in detroit, with thanks to meiko, marcia, robby, colette, erin, nerissa, jess, grace, shea, and shout out to mary oliver


be outside at dusk to watch the first stars appear
make this your nightly prayer

as you step out of the car
lost on highway 23
a shooting star from leo soars directly overhead

a million eyes in the sky
now you can gaze back at the stars
that watch you as they always do
they ask:
what will you do with your one wild and precious life?

let your uterus speak
your kidneys and lungs
your perimenopausal thyroid and pineal glands
let your ears ring when you dance in front of the woofer
you will lose your hearing one day anyway
just as you will lose everything
your mother’s silverware
your father’s publications
the burden of your reputation
stomp it underfoot on the concrete dance floor

promote shamelessness
as a step into the emergence of interconnected self
infuriate as many people as you inspire

move to detroit so you can throw away your bras
to embrace the reality of 49 year old breasts
spent on nourishing your young

choose what is most impermanent
like stir-fried vegetables for grace
on a tray carried to her house each night at 5
value what is most ephemeral
snow melting before it touches the sidewalk
tail of the meteor disappearing into night sky

boycott the media and create your own news
by learning ukulele and writing songs
fill your car with drums, your kombucha jug and record albums
leave everything else behind
forsake the sham of middle class security
your 401K, health insurance, a pension
spend your savings on avocados, limes, and mixed greens
make guacamole your new currency
place yourself at the mercy of strangers
cross double yellow lines to make u-turms on train tracks
after all it’s never too late
let your phone battery die and rely on telepathy

stand on your head and gaze out the window
at bare trees older than your house that needs tuckpointing
listen to the foghorns detroit sunday dawn
if the stars can fall
                                    no problem
                                                            so can you


pkh 18 November 2012

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

WORM BY WORM

for Milwaukee, Growing Power, Will Allen, and all our local farmers


in 21st century post-industrial milwaukee
city of foreclosures and soaring joblessness
the earth calls us forth to heal her

she’s been paved over, toxins dumped, trees sheared away
with emptied houses
closed schools
lunch programs cut
where is her silver spring?

industrialized then abandoned

we remake the earth
worm by worm
black gold

new earth smells like morning
like renewal
smells like community

ingesting all that we have discarded
the worms welcome it all
tree pulp beaten and bleached into paper
processed foods moldering and slimy
throw-aways of our material world

wriggling red worms
like the earth coming alive
the earth has been waiting for us to come and renew her
withstanding temporary devastation
by industry run amok
she knew we would return turn

turning over the compost pile
sift and sieve
nourishment everywhere

city hall gardens of mustard and cabbage
we walk through and graze during lunch hour
bovine, leaving hoofmarks of work shoes in the earth

beat your swords into plowshares
trade in your gun for a pitchfork
the weapon of choice

after all anyone can take life
but only the brave can make life
make kale and collards that survive the wisconsin winter
worm by redworm
polypropelene hoophouses the new native architecture
covering the milwaukee landscape

those who grow their own food
grow their own souls
families and communities

the worms teach us how to re-weave the fabric of community
neighborhood harvest parties
corn roasts
catch up on gossip at the local farmer’s market

worm by worm
mother earth’s revolutionaries

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Letter to Milwaukee

  
Milwaukee friends, this is a letter I wrote to the Riverwest Yogashala community explaining what is coming up for me.  I hope you will engage in upcoming conversations about what is next. This is not farewell yet--you all come over for a party before I leave! p

Dear Riverwest Yogashala Community,

With an ache in my heart and a catch in my throat, I write to let you all know I will move to Detroit, MI in February 2013.

This is a move I have been contemplating for some time, and am finally committing to now. As an empty-nester, I am at a stage in my life where a major change is quite possible, and I have decided to take the leap.

As Riverwest Yogashala was preparing with Eight Limbs Housing Co-op to purchase a building this past summer, I committed to at least 3 more years in Milwaukee, which has been my home since 1987. During those 3 years, my plan was to transition Riverwest Yogashala from being founder-driven to more cooperatively run, and for 8LHC to become established.

However, when the seller withdrew, our purchase plans were cut short, and a door opened for a new plan to emerge. At first I was devastated. We had put so much time, energy, and resources into finding a building and funding it. But as I recovered from my disappointment, I began to see new possibilities.

First, I had to admit that I really needed a sabbatical. I have been teaching 10-14 classes/week since 2001, as well as raising 3 children, running a household, organizing for various activist causes, writing, serving as Milwaukee Poet Laureate in 2006-2007, running racial justice workshops, performing in theatre and vocal groups, giving poetry readings and workshops, and more.

Next, I had to be quiet and listen inwardly to what my soul and spirit were asking for. As I approach my 49th birthday (my 7th 7 year cycle!) I realize I am longing to nurture my own studentship. I need to step back from the many leadership roles I have taken on in Milwaukee, and vastly simplfiy my life. I long, as Mother Teresa urges us, to “do small things with great love.”

I have chosen Detroit because one of the people I admire most in the world, 97 year-old legendary activist Grace Lee Boggs, lives there. I plan to volunteer at the Boggs Center and learn anything I can from her as I offer whatever services may be needed in caregiving, cooking, organizing, etc. She is still quite sharp and vital and I would love to avail myself in any way.

Aside from Grace, Detroit overflows with visionaries, activists, social reformers, artists, and grassroots Do-It-Yourselfers. I have so much to learn there! Also, my eldest daughter, 26 year-old Meiko Krishok makes her home in Detroit. We are quite close and I look forward to spending more time with her.

One of my favorite Iyengar Yoga Senior Teachers lives in Ann Arbor, 50 miles from Detroit, Laurie Blakeney, whom many of you have met. I have never had weekly access to a Senior Teacher, and I’m thrilled at the prospect of studying with her regularly. Laurie’s depth of knowledge and experience over 30+ years of teaching will nourish my dedication to Iyengar Yoga and enrich my practice and teaching.

I am leaving Milwaukee and Riverwest Yogashala for a year or so of service, while learning at the feet of Grace, Laurie, and other wise Detroit elders. I will probably teach a little yoga, perhaps 2-3 classes/week. Housing plans are not set yet, but I have some prospects for living in intentional community on a barter basis.

I will stay in Detroit as long as I can be of use to Grace. The next stage of my life involves a 4-6 month stay in South Korea, where I lived until age 5, and where many family members live. In Korea, I plan to regain my fluency in the language, research my family history, especially regarding Japanese occupation and the Korean War, interview elders, and do a lot of writing.

When I return from Korea, I plan to make my next home in Oakland, CA. I have chosen Oakland because I have Iyengar Yoga friends there, access to Iyengar Senior Teacher Manouso Manos, a huge and diverse Asian American community, many like-minded radicals living outside the mainstream as in Detroit, plus avocado and lemon trees!

So, beloved Milwaukee community, I will bid farewell in December. I will complete the Fall Term. I will leave 30 December for a month’s study in Pune, India, with the Iyengar family. I will return 1 February, take a week or so to pack up and organize, and drive off to Detroit.

Let us make the most of our time together. I will pour my heart and soul into the best teaching I am capable of this fall. I will give everything I have to my mentees, who will serve you exceedingly well as they step up in responsibility. I am willling to come back on a regular basis to conduct teachers’ study groups, teach yoga workshops, and teach writing/movement (Embodied Voice) workshops as long as there is interest.

Meanwhile, I have full confidence in Lynn Celek, who, as you know, is an awesome teacher! Along with Lynn, other strong teachers will continue to teach at RY, and more are in the pipeline. However, exactly what RY will look like in 2013 is up to you. Please come to a community meeting on Sunday, 30 September, 4-6pm to discuss what is possible. We will provide snacks and you can too. RY’s future is in the hands of the community.

What I have received from all of you, over almost 10 years at Riverwest Yogashala, is immeasurable. You all have taught me how to be a teacher, and challenged me to be a better person. I am so richly blessed by all of you, and I will miss you.

Growing, learning, shifting, moving, with (G)race, and so so so much love,
peggy kwisuk hong

Friday, September 14, 2012

Calling All Visual Artists! Design a 49th Birthday "Brown Girl Dangerous" Tattoo for Peggy

REQUEST FOR PROPOSALS 
DESIGN PEGGY’S 49th BIRTHDAY TATTOO AND WIN A 6-WEEK UNLIMITED YOGA GIFT CERTIFICATE
Submissions due by October 25, 2012.
 
Is it time for me to get a tattoo? I have held off all these years because I could not think of anything I would want for posterity. But knowing that posterity may mean 20 or 30 years only, I think I can risk it. I have an idea that needs to be “fleshed out” by my visual artist friends.

“Brown Girl Dangerous” is my alter ego/inner superhero/spiritual warrior. I would like to have her tattooed on my left shoulder and upper arm. She need not be figurative but may be an abstract design.

Brown Girl Dangerous’s superpower is that she tells and lives the truth at all times, while being impervious to persecution and torture. She is perimenopausal, in a state of flux and transition, and her powers are getting stronger as she ages. She has not yet reached the peak of her powers. She is fearless because she knows she can never be hurt, and because she knows that truth, although it has the ability to both heal and destroy, in and of itself, is neutral.

BGD is dangerous because there are parties that depend on the denial and obfuscation of truth for their survival. She maintains a sharp edge because she has to defy these parties to do her job of living and telling the truth. BGD’s brownness puts her at odds with white supremacy. She identifies with the oppressed, marginalized, and persecuted, and lives out the truth as a revolutionary act to dismantle these structures. She knows that an individual’s act of resistance can disrupt a whole system and inspire an entire movement.

BGD is complex because the truth is multi-layered, problematic, shifting, and contextual. She has to encompass and embrace all of the messiness of truth. BGD’s vulnerability/weakness is that she has a poor sense of timing! She struggles with the best times to reveal the truth. Sometimes there is no good time.

BGD is maiden, mother, and crone. She is a girl warrior with irrepressible, daring energy. She is a mother, nurturer, and source of compassion. She is a crone, with nothing on earth to lose, and one foot in the spiritual world.

Are you getting some images, ideas, and inspiration? I hope so! Please, no anime characters. We like subtle, and abstract may be better than representational.  Show me what you got and drop off your design at 8LHC, 2474 N Booth, Milwaukee, WI 53212, or email to peggyhong@sbcglobal.net by October 25, 2012. I will get the tattoo done by my birthday on the 31st.

The artist of the selected design will be rewarded a 6-week unlimited pass into all of my yoga classes, from 1 November-15 December 2012.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

THE WHITE WOUND

 
“Father keeps the graveyards deep in his throat, between his collar and his chin, near his Adam’s apple. His Adam’s apple sticks out and is locked up. That way the graveyards can never pass his lips. His mouth drinks schnapps made from the darkest plums, and his songs for the Fuhrer are heavy and drunken.”
--Herta Müller, The Land of Green Plums

“If the white man has inflicted the wound of racism upon black men, the cost has been that he would receive the mirror image of that wound into himself. As the master, or as a member of the dominant race, he has felt little compulsion to acknowledge it or speak of it; the more painful it has grown the more deeply he has hidden it within himself. But the wound is there, and it is a profound disorder, as great a damage to his mind as it is in his society.”
--Wendell Berry, “The Hidden Wound”

One day, teaching my yoga class for seniors, one student remarked on a recent trip to Paris, “There’s so much to do there.” Another student laughed, saying, “That’s gotta be the understatement of the year.” We chitchatted a bit about what a wonderful city Paris is. Then I could not help adding how problematic it was to consider these grand cities of Europe in light of imperial history, how these cities were built up during the 1700s and 1800s from the money and resources garnered from colonizing other nations, and to consider the suffering caused by the exploitation and oppression of colonized and enslaved people.

Talk about bursting the bubble.

My elderly student, an elegant and refined white woman who grew up in Europe, who has a most lovely French/British accent, was silent for a moment, then said, “But France didn’t colonize.”

Her adult daughter, attending class with her said, “Sure they did, Mom.”

Mom remained silent for another moment. Then burst into, “Can you believe what that Scott Walker just did?” Eager to consciously or unconsiously shift the subject and relieve the tension she felt within herself and the group, she began a tirade about the latest Wisconsin Republican outrages.

In 36 years of living among white people (my first 12 years were in Korea and Hawaii), I have come to realize the deep and often impenetrable cognitive dissonance well-meaning white people live with. That is, in their most honest moments, they have difficulty reconciling their privilege with historical facts. The most prized ideal of white liberals is equality, while valorizing working people, and protecting the middle class. The cognitive dissonance consists of an inability to admit that their privileges of race and class resulted from the suffering of people of color. In the USA, this was primarily through genocide of Native Americans and enslavement of Africans, but also exploitation of Asians and Central and South Americans, which continues to this day. The Koreas, Philippines, Vietnam and more all suffered at the hands of the US empire, which now includes Iraq and Afghanistan.

Joy deGruy writes about“post-traumatic slave syndrome” in which African Americans have deeply internalized the wounds caused by centuries of slavery, resulting in a sense of inferiority and self-oppression. She discusses the phenomenon of lynching, and the repression of compassion required to maintain it as a public social practice. In post-traumatic slave syndrome, the oppressor suffers a wound which mirrors the wound they inflict on the oppressed.

As Wendell Berry points out:

“I have been unwilling until now to open in myself what I have known all along to be a wound - a historical wound, prepared centuries ago to come alive in me at my birth like a hereditary disease, and to be augmented and deepened by my life.

“If I had thought it was only the black people who have suffered from the years of slavery and racism, then I could have dealt fully with the matter long ago; I could have filled myself with pity for them, and would no doubt have enjoyed it a great deal and thought highly of myself.”

If white people have also “suffered from the years of slavery and racism,” how does this white wound manifest itself? As a yoga teacher, I notice it in my students as a disocciation of mind and body. You know that cliché about “white people can’t dance”? I see this in many of my white students in their difficulty feeling what is happening in their bodies, not noticing asymmetries, and unable to bring their consciousness to various body parts. Many have difficulty connecting thoughts to actions in their body, and difficulty putting words to physical experience. I find this in the multi-racial gospel choir I sing in, when some white members clap and sway out of sync with the music.

If “white people can’t dance,” it’s because they are not feeling the music, the pulse, the rhythm, the vibration, the communal soul and spirit. I believe this is something that is taught to them, that “come[s] alive…at birth like a hereditary disease,” as Berry puts it. Although many white people overcome this disconnection of mind and body, I often find that a barrier arises at some point that my white friend cannot find the means to understand or traverse.

Once I was invited to perform poetry and dance at an elite college prep private school in suburban Milwaukee, to an ocean of white faces. I tried to teach them an audience participation “rhythm chant” which consisted of 3 different rhythms with speech and simple movement. They had difficulty enough coordinating a single rhythm, and it totally fell apart when we tried to create a polyrhythm by combining the 3 lines. I had taught this piece dozens of times to various groups, especially Milwaukee Public School students (ie majority students of color), and typically had great results.

The privileged white students couldn’t listen to each other, or feel each other, or even feel or listen to themselves, enough to create a multi-rhythm. These are practices of self-knowledge and sensitivity to others required for empathy and compassion. How does this dissociation and disconnection happen?

An acquaintance had a child enrolled in this school. At a parent-teacher conference, the teacher reported that this child struggled with “time management.” This child was in kindergarten. Why indeed would a 4 or 5 year-old need to manage her time?

When a kindergartener is taught to manage her time, she is taught by the culture of the oppressor to ignore her feelings and needs, and thus to disocciate mind and body. By learning as a toddler to manage her time, she would begin early to ignore her need to play, or to eat, or to rest, in order to conform to her teacher’s agenda. She would learn to neglect her friends in order to stay on schedule.

I see the white wound in white friends and family members who cannot accompany me in my journey of racial healing, because it hurts too much to explore these dark places. I can’t share my deepest hurts and realizations with such friends and family members without their becoming defensive or depressed. I see the white wound today in white roommates in our housing cooperative who feel unwelcome, uncomfortable, and sometimes scared, when I and friends of color speak openly and unabashedly about race.

One day, as I shared this reflection with a white friend, in a moment of insight and honesty, he wondered if he was “emotionally stunted.” In fact, the burden of whiteness stunts the emotional development of generation after generation. Furthermore, the ethic of privacy requires one to hold their cards close, not make oneself vulnerable. After all, one would have to become emotionally stunted in order to protect their privilege without shame.

I see the white wound in many white friends and acquaintances who direct their anger toward the Republican or Tea Parties, or Big Business, or the Oil Industry, or whatever convenient enemy there may be. Anyone or anything except looking inward.

I see the white wound in addictive and compulsive behaviors, and could even include moderate alcohol consumption, or other seemingly innocuous actions that “take the edge off,” allowing one to maintain a mild and manageable state of cognitive dissonance. You know that niggling discomfort, like that moment I pointed out the history of European empire to my elderly yoga students? Instead of staying with that discomfort and processing it, we would rather drink a glass of red wine, smoke a cigarette, update our Facebook status, anything.

In Sacred Economics, Charles Eisenstein contrasts “the story of the separate self” with “the story of the interconnected self.” The story of the separate self is based on the Cartesian model of individuality which shapes Eurocentric thought and culture. The story of the interconnected self tells us we are essentially one consciousness, and that what we do and choose pushes and pulls at the fabric of community that binds us to one another.

Dr. Gabor Maté discusses the effects of detached parenting, in which infant cries are left unanswered. When we ignore their cries, we teach our children early on the message of separateness, and the denial of feelings. As a physician, Maté examines the biochemical effect of being ignored as a helpless being. He describes how this stressful state can become a neurological imprint which remains with us as we grow up. Ignored cries in infancy can lead to compulsive behavior in chidren to alleviate their stress, sometimes manifesting as addictive behavior in adults.

I see the white wound in myself and other people of color, when we buy into the story of the separate self instead of the story of the interconnected self. I witness the white wound working in me when I buy into the illusion of scarcity, refusing to share my time, energy, and resources; when I hide my vulnerability, putting up a front of self-sufficiency; when I act out of fear rather than trust. Every time I protect my ego, I am buying into the story of separateness which informs the white wound.

I see the white wound in myself as a person of color, who has internalized the values of whiteness, success, and security. I see myself deferring to white people, and protecting white people at the expense of people of color, and allowing myself and others to be mistreated.

I see the white wound internalized in Koreans, in their drive to rebuild the nation after decades of Japanese colonization followed by a proxy civil war fueled by emerging super-powers. From the 1960s to the present day, as the economy has exploded in magnitude through workaholism, alcoholism and consumerism plague society: release valves for the pressure created by this drive for material prosperity and success on the global stage.

How do we heal the white wound? Every wound must be examined and cleaned. White people need to recognize their woundedness and begin undoing the trappings created by white culture. People of color need to recognize ways they have been complicit and accommodating. The degree to which we willingly stumble through this dark place of woundedness, to explore it and own it, is the degree to which we bring it to light and heal. The degree to which we heal the wounds determines the degree to which we live the story of the interconnected self.

Let’s not blame Scott Walker. Let’s not deny colonial history. Let us open our hearts to each other, by recognizing how white people, through denial of their woundedness, and people of color, through internalization of white values, have all upheld racism and white supremacy. By revealing our wounds and admitting our complicity, we bring light into those dark places.