I had the great fortune of meeting Audre Lorde in 1988. The memory of this meeting came flooding back to me after reading Dr. Johnnetta Cole's essay in the newly published book, I Am Your Sister: Collected and Unpublished Writings of Audre Lorde.* This collection includes reflections by Alice Walker and bell hooks, as well as some of Lorde's essays from Sister Outsider and other works. In her essay, Dr. Cole writes about her friendship with Lorde and how she convinced her to come to speak at Spelman College after being treated poorly there during a previous visit in 1978.Being in Audre Lorde's presence for the first time, I was moved enough to challenge my fear of talking to people I didn't know. This radical act was put in motion on my way to hear her speak.
I had stopped for gas. While pumping, I fingered a piece of quartz crystal in my pocket. I had found it a few years earlier after a friend told me about the mineral's healing properties. I was instructed to, when seeking a crystal, look for one that would "speak" to me. Though I didn't quite know what that "voice" would sound like, I stumbled upon one that I liked very much while shopping in a new-agey store near Atlanta.
I remember the selection process well. Among numerous pieces, finding one that spoke to me proved daunting. There were ones that were clearly beautiful to look at and perfect on all sides. These would have no trouble speaking, I reasoned, and passed them by. The one I eventually chose was cloudy and had, for me, some character. It was about 6 inches long and misshapen, with facets in the center and some divits and chips on the outside. Sometimes things with character get overlooked beside the seemingly perfect. So, what spoke to me was this piece with the flaws. (I discovered sometime later that the cloudy or "smoky" crystals are believed to be associated with specific properties of manifestation and protection).
I took the crystal out of my pocket. Though I wasn't quite sure how the healing worked, I enjoyed looking at it often; holding it felt good to my hands. As I looked at it against the evening sky, it suddenly slipped from my grasp, hitting the concrete, breaking into two equal pieces. I was crestfallen in the moment, feeling this once-whole piece of mineral from the earth was now quite damaged. I immediately thought about glue; I had infused a part of myself in it by the very act of treasuring it. I felt a pang of disappointment to see that part lying disjointed on the ground.
Perhaps a full minute passed before I collected the pieces, reminding myself that this crystal wasn't a heart or a sentient being or a even a wonderful memory--no loved one had picked it out especially for me. In fact, the salesperson had been perfectly pleasant while taking my 50 cents, but the transaction wasn't particularly meaningful. So, I put the halves in my pocket, finished pumping the gas, and carried on to Spelman and Audre Lorde.
What struck me most that day, as Lorde introduced herself, was her courage as she, without hesitation, embraced all of her many parts. No shame, no apologies. It was a time in my life when I was unable to do that--mainly because I had no idea what all the parts were. For me, Lorde's courage was equal to the courage it would take to stare death in the face. And she had.After she spoke, she graciously signed books and spoke with people for more than an hour. I waited until the last person was almost finished and got in line behind her. The book she signed for me was ZAMI: A New Spelling of My Name. I nervously told her what the book meant to me and how much I had gotten from her talk. I don't remember the exact words of her response, but I do remember how precious I felt she was to the world as I watched her lips moving. When she finished, I reached into my pocket and gave her one part of the broken crystal. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, as if the moment conjured up something very personal, as if the crystal were not broken, and I watched her take the half and place it near her heart before hugging and thanking me.
I wished for too long that the crystal had been unbroken when I gave it to her, until I made the connection that my small crystal had most probably started out as a part of something much larger. That thought reminds me of how even the tiniest spoon full of the ocean has the same properties as the entire ocean.
I've been thinking about the meaning of perfection and about the beautiful and perfect diagonal angles each broken piece of the crystal created.Sometimes things have to be broken to be made.
I keep the other piece close, to remind me.
* View upcoming event details for An Evening for Sister Audre.
What a beautifully crafted tribute, Kelley, and what an essential thing to remember (and how easy to forget): Sometimes things have to be broken to be made. There is so much in that simple statement that reminds us to show compassion to others and to ourselves, and gives us hope for those parts of us that feel hurt or damaged.
ReplyDeleteYour broken crystal, in cracking apart what once appeared to be a single, indestructible entity, at the same time introduces its own perfection and wholeness, in much the same way that every ending also contains the beginning of something new. And yet the pieces of crystal remain connected through their common origin, the way their angles and planes complement and reflect one another, and the shared elements that comprise them. Your observation that the tiniest spoonful of the ocean has the same properties as the entire ocean reminds me of how fundamentally connected we are to one another as well, all of us formed of the same elements and the same spirit, all of us ultimately part of the same Self.