Anchor the eternity of love in your own soul and embed this planet with goodness. Lean toward the whispers of your own heart, discover the universal truth, and follow its dictates. Release the need to hate, to harbor division, and the enticement of revenge. Release all bitterness. Hold only love, only peace in your heart, knowing that the battle of good to overcome evil is already won. Choose confrontation wisely, but when it is your time don’t be afraid to stand up, speak up, and speak out against injustice. And if you follow your truth down the road to peace and the affirmation of love, if you shine like a beacon for all to see, then the poetry of all the great dreamers and philosophers is yours to manifest in a nation, a world community, and a Beloved Community that is finally at peace with itself.
The best way we can honor the life and legacy of John Lewis is to get out there and get involved in some “good trouble.” Stand tall in the face of oppression. Lift up those who are in danger of falling by the wayside. Engage in righteous, nonviolent protest. Register people to vote. Push your country toward the realization of its highest ideals, and do the same for yourself. Be kind. It falls to all of us to continue his work. Let’s make him proud.
Above: Rep. John Lewis in the Civil Rights Room in the Nashville Public Library in Tennessee – November 2016. (Photo: Mark Humphrey / Associated Press)
. . . Come! Come with your warm winds.
Breathe on all within us that resists growth.
Temper our desire to be in control.
Raise up some wildness in us.
O Come!
. . . O source of growth and light,
Come! Come encourage us to stretch toward light.
Warm us with your abiding presence.
Challenge our lethargic spirits.
Walk with us into the deep, green forests.
O Come!
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Over the past few months I've really come to love and appreciate the kora, sometimes referred to as the West African harp. I find the sound of this unique and centuries-old instrument to be very soulful and soothing. It's been the perfect sound to immerse myself in during these past five months of uncertainty and upheaval.
The kora is a string instrument that originated and is used extensively in West Africa. It typically has 21-strings which are played by plucking with the fingers.
The sound of a kora resembles that of a harp, though when played in the traditional style, it bears a closer resemblance to flamenco and Delta blues guitar techniques of both hands to pluck the strings in polyrhythmic patterns (using the remaining fingers to secure the instrument by holding the hand posts on either side of the strings). Ostinato riffs (“Kumbengo”) and improvised solo runs (“Birimintingo”) are played at the same time by skilled players.
Legend has it that the kora was gifted to humanity by the djinns or spirits of the West African savannah. Though played in Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Mali, Senegal, Burkina Faso, the kora first emerged in the area of West Africa now known as the Gambia. Kora players have traditionally come from jali families of the Mandinka tribes. They are traditional historians, genealogists and storytellers who pass their skills on to their descendants. Most West African musicians prefer the term “jali” to “griot,” which is the French word. “Jali” means something similar to a “bard” or oral historian.
I'm gradually becoming familiar with a number of kora players, including perhaps two of the greatest: Toumani Diabaté from Mali and Seckou Keita from Senegal. This evening though, I share the music of a lesser- known but still incredibly gifted kora player, Mbemba Diebaté, who, incidently, celebrates his birthday tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Mbemba!
A descendant of a Jali family, Mbemba Diebaté, is from Pakaou Soubaly, a village in Casamance, Senegal. As a child he was captivated by the sounds of the kora played by his uncle, "Old Kouyaté," who would later be his teacher for many years. Notes Mbemba's Facebook page:
While preserving the Mandinka culture of his ancestors, Mbemba Diebaté also offers a rich and varied repertoire through personal creations in a modern style and open to the world, reflecting his artistic journey.
Since 2016, Mbemba has embarked on a musical career centered in two musical projects of his creation: Bacoumba Fusion Afro Gnaoua (left), a fusion of traditional West and North Africa styles and instruments (kora, guembri, karkabat, and percu), and Kora 'Frika Jazz, a modern style combining the kora and contemporary jazz musicians.
Following is Mbemba Diebaté performing “Terìya.” Enjoy!
Following is an article I found online about Mbemba Diebaté. I used Google Translate to translate it into English from the original French. This article was first published July 9, 2018 on the website, Music in Africa.
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Mbemba Diebaté Kora,
Divine Guest Star of the Moroccan Scene
It was at the Mama Africa Festival in the Moroccaon village of Merzouga that Music In Africa spotted the promising Mbemba Diebaté and his Bacoumba Fusion formation, created in 2016 in Casablanca. Since then, the band has continued to ignite the Moroccan scene.
At the foot of the dunes, four musicians and two dancers, led by the kora, performed magnificent melodies on stage, songs that were as sweet as powerful, and accompanied by the muscular energy of the dance.
Of traditional inspiration revisited in a very contemporary way, the group's repertoire shows a fine mastery of an artistic project born from a meeting in Morocco of artists from Senegal, Ivory Coast, Togo, Congo, and Cameroon.
Quickly identified in his host country as a reference, Mbemba Diébaté responded enthusiastically to invitations from renowned Moroccan artists. Among other things, he was invited for a month of residence last June at the Gnaoua World Music Festival to participate in the creation project of the Mâalem Mokhtar Gania, entitled Africa Gnaoua Experience.
Mbemba Diebaté began his apprenticeship in kora at the age of seven in Casamance (Senegal), with his master Vieux Kouyaté. Originally from a family of griots who introduced him to this ancestral art, he saw music as an inexhaustible breeding ground for languages and travel at a crossroads of universes almost as old as the big bang.
However, nothing seems as new to our ears than this music which, trance-like, spreads its mesmerizing and liberating energy all the way down to our toes.
I continue today my series that draws from the wisdom within the many books on my shelf at work. As most reading this would know, my work, since September 2018, is that of a palliative careinterfaith chaplain at a hospital just north of the Twin Cities.
(NOTE: To start at the beginning of this series, click here.)
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How do we learn to die?
We live in a world that panics at this question and turns away. Other civilizations before ours looked squarely at death. They mapped the passage for both the community and the individual. They infused the fulfillment of destiny with a richness of meaning. Never perhaps have our relations with death been as barren as they are in this modern spiritual desert, in which our rush to a mere existence carries us past all sense of mystery. We do not even know that we are parching the essence of life of one of its wellsprings.
[Marie de Hennezel’s book Intimate Death] is a lesson in living. The light it casts is more intense than that of many philosophical treatises; it does not offer thought but, rather, bears witness to the most profound of all human experiences. Its power derives from facts and from the simple way these are represented. Represented is exact – “to render present again” that which escapes our awareness: the far side of things and of time, the heart of anguish and of hope, the suffering of another, the eternal dialogue between life and death.
It is this dialogue that re-presents itself in Hennezel’s book, the dialogue that she sustains unbrokenly with her dying patients. . . . Hennezel tells us about the dignity of [her patients’]; she also tells us modestly but therefore all the more movingly about the unwavering supportiveness of the teams who accompany them on their last journey. She lets us experience the everyday adventure of the discovery of another human being, the engaging of love and compassion, the courage in the gentle movements that tend these damaged bodies. She shows how it is the love of life, not any death wish, that feeds the choices they make and the things they do.
[Hennevel and I] have talked about these matters often. I asked her question after question about the sources of the power that erases anguish and brings peace, and about the extraordinary transformations she sometimes witnesses in people who are about to die.
At the moment of utter solitude, when the body breaks down on the edge of infinity, a separate time begins to run that cannot be measured in any normal way. In the course of several days sometimes, with the help of another presence that allows despair and pain to declare themselves, the dying seize hold of their lives, take possession of them, unlock their truth. They discover the freedom of being true to themselves. It is as if, at the very culmination, everything managed to come free of the jumble of inner pains and illusions that prevent us from belonging to ourselves. The mystery of existence and death is not solved, but it is fully experienced.
That is perhaps the most beautiful lesson of [Hennevel’s] book: Death can cause a human being to become what he or she was called to become; it can be, in the fullest sense of the word, an accomplishment.
. The Wild Reed’s 2020 Queer Appreciation series concludes this evening with excerpts from BuzzFeed contributor Alexey Kim's wonderful photo-essay on this year's Queer Liberation March for Black Lives and Against Police Brutality in New York City.
During the June 28 march, Kim photographed a number of participants, invited them to say why they were participating, and asked them about their hopes for the future. The resulting compilation of images and comments is well worth checking out in its entirety. Following is just a snippet of Kim's inspiring and hope-filled project. Enjoy!
Says Joel Rivera (pictured in this post's opening image):
I guess it's kind of cliché: I hope for equality. I hope that if I was to go on a train . . . I wouldn't face any harassment. I hope that there is a new system that doesn’t see the color of your skin but sees the content of your character. That's what Martin Luther King said.
I hope that every single person in the world, now that’s crazy, but I hope that every single person in the world finds love in their heart. If you have love, it doesn't matter your sexuality, your gender identity, your skin color, because you will just love everybody. And honestly, I take it back when I said it was a stretch. It should not be a stretch to be able to love everyone, but some people just make it so difficult.
Says Katie Rose Summerfield (pictured with her children above):
I am an artist and a human in the world who cares about the humanity of all people. I think it’s essential that we show up for our brothers and sisters who have not been treated with any fairness, kindness, justice, or humanity for hundreds of years. And it’s time that we all be accomplices in the fight for abolition of white supremacy, racism, police brutality, and inequality across everything.
My hopes for the future are that everybody in the world, everybody in America, feels safe to live in [. . .] as they are, to be exactly who they are, to be loved tirelessly and fearlessly, and for everyone to feel safe.
Above (from left):Terence Edgerson, Samy Nemir Olivares, and Luis Mancheno.
Says Terence:
What brought me here today was trans rights, Black Lives Matter, and equality for all. . . . We are marching together to be with all my sisters and brothers and non-binary folks.
My hope for the future is that I won’t have to be out on the streets saying “Trans Lives Matter”; I won’t have to be out on the streets saying “Black Lives Matter”; I won’t have to be on the streets saying “Black Trans Lives Matter.”
It’s beautiful that we are saying those [thing], but the reason that we are out here saying [them] is because we are continuously killed and there is no justice and we have to keep fighting and protesting. I’m hoping for the future that we no longer have to be out on the streets fighting against the state, and [the] state will side with us, and they will give us protection so that Black trans girls will have protection, Black people will have protection. We want to fight against people that are killing us.
Says Samy:
I'm here because this is the real Pride. It started 51 years ago with Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson – a riot against police brutality – and we are still criminalized and oppressed by the state and the police forces. So we need to continue organizing, running for office, voting, and getting engaged with our community to actually fight for change, including social justice and a [city] budget that really helps our community.
So we are honoring that life and that spirit of resistance. This is what this march is [about] – to bring that rioting spirit to actually fight for equal justice.
I really hope that we don’t have to fight against the state and discrimination, that we live in [a] society that honestly honors our lives, that we have full respect and we have full equality and justice. And that starts with the Equality Act, but we need so much more.
Legal marriage equality [happened], but that just got us the right to love. Now we need the right so we can walk in the streets without violence and being murdered, so the moment that no Black trans women are being killed in the streets, when people are not discriminated at work, when all the eradication of discrimination happens. That’s why we are truly here; that’s why we are marching.
We are not only celebrating that we could march because of the history of our movement, but because there is so much work to be done.
This is just the city’s Pride as Black Lives Matter rally, because the most important, impacted members of our LGBTQ community are the LGBTQ people of color: Black trans women, Latinx, undocumented queer immigrants. . . . It is a movement of solidarity.
Fighting for racial justice is to fight for queer rights; fighting for queer rights is fighting for racial justice. So we are not only standing in solidarity with Black Lives Matter, we also have Black queer lives, we also have immigrant Latinx queer lives and people of color. So this is a movement of solidarity, but we are both because our struggles are very interconnected. That’s why this Pride, this Queer March is so powerful, because it combines the intersectional lives and identities that we all live and they have been oppressed for so long and this is the moment for liberation.
Says Luis:
I am here with my friends and my community. This is our family. Until all of us are liberated, every single person in our community is liberated – trans, Black, queer, nonbinary, Latino people – the queer community will not stop until all of us are fully equal.
And at the end, us browns and Black people, we are also protesting against the mainstream LGBTQ community which has for so long discriminated against us, discriminated against our most vulnerable members. And we are saying today: This is the Pride that we want; this is the Pride that we celebrate and nothing from now on in the future will be less.
Says Rollerena (pictured above center):
My hope for the future is the blue wave on election day, that everybody gets out there and votes; votes with their conscience and gets this horrible regime out of office.
Says Bones Jones:
I am here today at the Queer Liberation March to liberate humanity, honestly. People of the LGBTQIA+ community are the backbone of how culture moves in this country. So I am here to support humanity in this outfit, have a good time, and support those who need support.
My hope for the future is that all people have the same rights, the same opportunities, the same abilities. We’ve seen what happens year after year after year when it comes to these things. It gets us nowhere to just oppress one group of people, so my hope and my wish is that we all just get the equal rights, equal opportunities, and just live in peace, celebrate in peace, love in peace, have sex in peace.
Says Cory Walker:
I am out here celebrating Black and brown trans lives and just witnessing a revolution.
It’s been a beautiful way to emerge back into the new world and to be in New York City is such a blessing. Because this is kind of where that kind of liberation began: going to Stonewall and just feeling that energy. I feel like the ancestors are really here. I’m taking it moment by moment; it’s really a lot to digest, but it’s everything we’ve been asking for, so. I think this is our time.
Oh, [I have] so many [hopes]. I would say for everyone, every being who enters this plane, this earth, this physical experience, to know that there is so much worthiness and rightness in their existence.
I would love for kids to be born knowing that there is a reason that they are here and that they have the power, that their evolution and their natural flow is going to look so specific for them, and that’s beautiful. And I want the people who maybe didn’t have that, who are kind of learning that about themselves now, I want them to heal and be graceful knowing that they always did and survived the best way they knew how.
And for people to just have more empathy and compassion and to really see each other again more, maybe for the first time. We are all kind of seeing ourselves for the first time. I think we are all being initiated into ourselves. So, my hope for the future, my hope for now, really, [is] just to continue [the] celebration.
To experience Alexey Kim's photo-essay, “This Is The Future Queer Liberation Protesters Are Fighting For,” in its entirety, click here.
Circle Pines resident Khoi Truong Minh Phan had a thoughtful letter-to-the-editor in Friday's edition of the Minneapolis Star Tribune newspaper. As you'll see, it's all about understanding patriotism as our efforts to improve our country.
It was early morning and I stood outside class, lamenting societal woes; someone told me that I “should go back to Vietnam if you think America’s bad.” That stuck with me. Why is it that this patriotism inspires, not action, but dismissiveness?
Is there a better patriotism?
Is the mother working two jobs more patriotic than the inheritor of a business with a flag in his yard? Is the young Black man protesting against police brutality more patriotic than the warden with the stars-and-stripes hat? Is the student marching for her life more patriotic than the corporate lobbyist with years of media training?
I believe the answer to all of these is “yes.” I believe in a patriotism of improvement, not one focused on a blind ideal of America but rather one understanding of the chasm between that and our reality. History has validated this gap’s bridgings, from the freedom amendments after the Civil War, to the 19th Amendment granting women the right to vote, to Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal and Lyndon B. Johnson’s Great Society, to the judicial activism during the civil rights movement.
Bitter partisanship, which characterizes the contemporary debate, was behind these triumphs. But I believe that they were motivated by a patriotism beyond deification. I believe that patriotism is petitioning the government, voting and filling out the census, not defying stay-at-home orders and occupying the State Capitol. I believe that patriotism is a sense of obligation beyond oneself, to see that one’s actions have repercussions. Most importantly, I believe in fighting society’s injustices.
So, why shouldn’t I just leave if I see so many problems here? Because on arriving, I owe it. America took me in, that wide-eyed boy from a distant country, and with my parents’ work, gave me a comfortable life.
My dad told me to see our backyard – itself quintessential America – as a blessing, to improve and perfect. And America’s the best backyard on Earth, so why not help it out?
“America the Beautiful” has been recorded by so many different people, and it’s also had verses added by many, many people. You go on the internet, and you’ll see there’s all kinds of verses from all kinds of perspectives. I mean, some of them are really kind of racist, and others are just kind of natural and beautiful.
But my friend John Herrington was the first Native American astronaut. And when he was going to get his ride, NASA invited me to sing and invited a whole lot people to come from his reservation, Chickasaw reservation in Oklahoma. And I had been thinking about “America the Beautiful,” so I wrote new verses for it, and I also wrote an introduction for it. It says, “There were Choctaws in Alabama, Chippewas in Saint Paul. Mississippi mud runs like a river in me. America, ooh, she’s like a mother to me.” . . . And the verses continue from there, with small changes, and then there’s a middle section, too.
But it really reflects kind of a different approach to America than you usually see in the headlines. It’s about America the country, not America the nation state. It’s about the real America that so many people, regardless of their political associations, really feel in their hearts – you know, this beautiful, beautiful place. So, it’s yet another take on “America the Beautiful.” People seem to enjoy it.
There were Choctaws in Alabama
Chippewas in St. Paul
Mississippi mud runs like a river in me
America – Oo she's like a mother to me
O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesty
Above the fruited plains
America, America
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea
From sea to shining sea
There were cliff towns in Colorado
Pyramids in Illinois
Trade routes up and down the Mississippi River to see
America – Oo she's like a mother to me
O beautiful for vision clear
That shines beyond the years
Thy night time sky
Our hopes that fly
Beyond all human tears
America, America
God shed His grace on thee
Til selfish gains no longer stain
The banner of the free
And crown thy good with brother and sisterhood
From sea to shining sea
I established The Wild Reed in 2006 as a sign of solidarity with all who are dedicated to living lives of integrity – though, in particular, with gay people seeking to be true to both the gift of their sexuality and their Catholic faith. The Wild Reed's original by-line read, “Thoughts and reflections from a progressive, gay, Catholic perspective.” As you can see, it reads differently now. This is because my journey has, in many ways, taken me beyond, or perhaps better still, deeper into the realities that the words “progressive,” “gay,” and “Catholic” seek to describe.
Even though reeds can symbolize frailty, they may also represent the strength found in flexibility. Popular wisdom says that the green reed which bends in the wind is stronger than the mighty oak which breaks in a storm. Tall green reeds are associated with water, fertility, abundance, wealth, and rebirth. The sound of a reed pipe is often considered the voice of a soul pining for God or a lost love.
On September 24, 2012,Michael BaylyofCatholics for Marriage Equality MNwas interviewed by Suzanne Linton of Our World Today about same-sex relationships and why Catholics can vote 'no' on the proposed Minnesota anti-marriage equality amendment.
"I believe your blog to be of utmost importance for all people regardless of their orientation. . . . Thank you for your blog and the care and dedication that you give in bringing the TRUTH to everyone."– William
"Michael, if there is ever a moment in your day or in your life when you feel low and despondent and wonder whether what you are doing is anything worthwhile, think of this: thanks to your writing on the internet, a young man miles away is now willing to embrace life completely and use his talents and passions unashamedly to celebrate God and his creation. Any success I face in the future and any lives I touch would have been made possible thanks to you and your honesty and wisdom."– AB
"Since I discovered your blog I have felt so much more encouraged and inspired knowing that I'm not the only gay guy in the Catholic Church trying to balance my Faith and my sexuality. Continue being a beacon of hope and a guide to the future within our Church!"– Phillip
"Your posts about Catholic issues are always informative and well researched, and I especially appreciate your photography and the personal posts about your own experience. I'm very glad I found your blog and that I've had the chance to get to know you."– Crystal
"Thank you for taking the time to create this fantastic blog. It is so inspiring!"– George
"I cannot claim to be an expert on Catholic blogs, but from what I've seen, The Wild Reed ranks among the very best."– Kevin
"Reading your blog leaves me with the consolation of knowing that the words Catholic, gay and progressive are not mutually exclusive.."– Patrick
"I grieve for the Roman institution’s betrayal of God’s invitation to change. I fear that somewhere in the midst of this denial is a great sin that rests on the shoulders of those who lead and those who passively follow. But knowing that there are voices, voices of the prophets out there gives me hope. Please keep up the good work."– Peter
"I ran across your blog the other day looking for something else. I stopped to look at it and then bookmarked it because you have written some excellent articles that I want to read. I find your writing to be insightful and interesting and I'm looking forward to reading more of it. Keep up the good work. We really, really need sane people with a voice these days."– Jane Gael
"Michael, your site is like water in the desert."– Jayden
