While thumbing through my drafts folder, I found this post from 2014. I am not sure if I ever hit the “publish” button or even realized that it this post was saved as a draft versus shared with my followers. I do remember this very class – J-term with Dr. Katie Cannon and the guest lecturer was doctoral student Rev. Melva Sampson. The sentiments still ring true so I am sharing …
Funny thing is that I sat down to type another post and didn’t realize until a paragraph or so later what I was typing. Guess this is what I need to get out. In class last week the instructor started by reading a poem as part of our contemplative moment. One – probably the only one – thing I remember from the poem is this sentence: the memory falters, but the soul remembers. The poem was followed by a discussion on African American history and the slave trade. We engaged in very rich dialogue about the African traditions that remain present in the lives of many African Americans. One of the commentators from the video talked about specific traditions and practices of which she was not aware of the origin, but knew it felt familiar.
Although we were speaking specifically about the transference and adaptation of African culture into African American culture, I believe this snippet of the poem – this belief – be related to other human experiences. The essence of this sentence says – to me – that there are some things our human mind cannot comprehend or explain: why we are drawn to certain people, places and things; why certain songs touch our souls so deeply; why some things feel so familiar. In more recent/relevant terms, I think of how I cannot place specific memories from my childhood, but when I eat a specific food or revisit a specific
space I feel a kindred spirit. This one sentence describes the power of the soul … the essence of the soul: to capture and hold dear those things our mind consciously or consciously forgets.