So many of our cultural heros/heroines over the last century have been humanized to death, knocked off their pedestals by gossip about their vices and short-coming, that I often tend to live as though there are no heros/heroines, assuming we have to blaze our own trail to truth and wholeness. Then someone like Maya Angelou dies and, "oh yeah, there are people who have inspired me with their example," they've lived and died among us. Fortunately, Maya Angelou left so much of herself in those of us who have been inspired by her life, that in a sense, her passing back into that space from which we all arise, has made her that much bigger. Bigger than life: that's what we expect from a heroine, isn't it?
Maya Angelou danced, sang, and spoke her truth without apology. Her voice was thick and rich as molasses, full of earth, sweat, sexiness, and sassiness. It took no prisoners. Did it offend some? Probably. Did it bother her? Who knows? She lived as though it did not. She lived openly and freely. Nothing for gossip mongers to latch on to and knock down. She turned her suffering into precious jewels and shared them with all of us. And so we danced - to fully acknowledge the gifts we have received from this great lady: truth, beauty, sassiness, sexiness, the power of our unique voices, the joy of expression, the joy of connection in our admiration for her and her gifts. And we danced to send her off in love and to celebrate a life well lived.
We danced Moodfood with a couple of extras:
Still I Rise
People Get Ready
