The Billows Are Tossing High - Prolog

This is a beginning of a text/video essay. I don’t really know how it will start or end but I have to follow this out. This will take a few days. This is new ground for me.

Sanctuary is a place of rest and safety. It is a permissible hiding place where you can lick your wounds and mend your soul.



After the past couple of weeks, I needed to find sanctuary. Because, quite honestly, I don’t know what to do with my anger, my rage about what is going on in the Alabama, Mississippi, and New Orleans areas of the country.

I know that the most Americans, even some of the ones that say they can’t abide liberals, are, at their core, good people. Honorable people. But something dreadful has happened to all of us. The American us. It is still happening. I can see it but others are rushing to put the scales back on their eyes.

The people who held guns at the crossing so as not to allow black folks to cross the bridge into their towns were evil. Pure ancient racists evil. I know it when I see it and hear it and no amount of justification is going to cause me to forget what was done.

The lack of preparation, the lack of communication, the plays for power and control and the hatred and continuous victimization of people in the least control of their situation. And the spin doctors working triple time to convince us what did and did not happen before our eyes.

The current American government did nothing. They let people die – of all colors, men women, children. It didn’t matter if they were conservative or liberal. There was no recognition of this event being a federal, national or humanitarian problem.

Not all of the victims are innocent. Perpetrators attacked other victims. Where did you think they placed ex-offenders in New Orleans? They dumped criminals in with the poor and the poorest of the poor. I’m not surprised assaults and looting of non-food/medical items happened. It was pre-ordained by current policies in effect across the nation. Not in my back yard, remember?

What am I to do with this? As an African-American, Black, Negro, Colored (I am old enough to have been labeled with all of the above descriptions) how do I keep rage, hate and distrust from dissolving me into my base nature?

I trust in Spirit but humans make me queasy.

I was riding the train and I saw the Cornfields. “Sanctuary," I thought.
Green stuff, dirt and air. I need real dirt. I need to sit in the sun. I need to reconnect with solid ground.

This is a bit of video taken Sunday September 18 at the Cornfields. Be warned. Sanctuary is elusive. It can be deceptive. Or it can be what it is. But for now it is a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The sky is blue. The cornstalks are high. The sun is warm. The beat goes on.

This is the link to the 160x120 QuickTime Version