In February of 2007 I had the privilege of hearing Maya Angelou speak at Chapman University. She began by singing "This Little Light of Mine" and immediately we were all spellbound by her. The next day I wrote the following in my journal, clearly still under her spell. What a remarkable woman. Her light shines for all of us.
Maya
Angelou comes onto the stage on the arm of a large young man. A cane supports her on the right side,
the young man on her left. She
moves slowly. Clearly, it is not
easy to walk, but walk she does.
An aura of greatness surrounds her, and the crowd is on its feet
clapping with enthusiasm, awe and great respect.
Dr.
Angelou is a tall woman – six feet tall, she tells us – and she is dressed in a
black gown almost to her ankles, with a square neckline inset with black lace and a long
strand of pearls against her black skin.
Her face is broad and open.
Everything about her is larger than life, yet there is a sense that she
is open to the smallest part of each of us.
You feel like you know her, that
you could sit down with her and have a cup of tea. She talks to you at this tea party, but she also draws you into
talking to her. She searches you
and prods you to turn over that rock in you that hides the best part of you
that for some reason you don’t reveal to people, that you’re afraid of yourself. And she takes that part of you out from
under that rock and holds it gently in her strong hand like it is a perfect gemstone.
She holds it out to you and says,
“Look what I found under a rock deep inside of you. Did you know it was there?”
You look away from it at first,
because it scares you to see it there so exposed, so pure in that larger than
life hand. But she entreats you to
look at it, your secret self, your treasure that was hidden deep inside
you. She is gentle, and her voice
is low and soft, but full and strong at the same time. Somehow her voice and the kindness of
her eyes and the broadness of her face make you look at what she holds in her
hand.
“Take it,” she says. “Take it and hold it yourself. Feel how warm it is. Hold it up to the light and notice the
glow within. Close your hand
around it and feel how it’s shaped.
Is it smooth? Is it rough? Does it need to be polished so it
shines for everyone to see? Does
it need anything except to be shown to the world? For you to see how precious it is?”
Because the woman is so tall and
imposing, yet as gentle and pure as a child, you do what she says and you
caress the gem that was under the rock deep inside of you. It begins to change in your hand from
cold to warm to pulsating with life.
This new warmth travels up your arm to your heart. Even though the woman has taken
something out of you, she has filled the hole that remained with more than she
took out, and the warmth spills over into your body and spreads to your soul
and makes it want to soar. This
gift that was already in you is the best gift anyone has ever given you.
You look at the tall black woman in
amazement and she laughs a great large deep laugh at your joy. She tells you to share that gift.
“Let it shine, let it shine, let it
shine,” she sings to you.
You join her in song, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna
let it shine.”
She finishes her tea and is gone,
but you don't notice. You are admiring the gem in your hand that is shining bright and you hold it out for everyone to see.
