Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now (8 page)

I returned to New York, but three years later I moved back to Berkeley to live. I telephoned the collector and informed him of my move. He said, “So glad you called. I read of your return in the newspaper. Of course we must get together.” He went on, “You know I am the local president of the National Council of Christians and Jews. But you don't know what I've been doing since we last spoke. I've been in Germany trying to ameliorate the conditions for the American soldiers.” His voice was weighted with emotion. He said, “You know, the black soldiers are having a horrific time over there, and our boys are having a hard time, too.”

I asked, “What did you say?”

He said, “Well, I'm saying that the black soldiers are having it particularly rough, but our guys are having a bad time, too.”

I asked, “Would you repeat that?”

He said, “Well, I'm saying …” Then his mind played back his statement, or he reheard the echo of his blunder hanging in the air.

He said, “Oh, my God, I've made such a stupid mistake, and I'm speaking to Maya Angelou.” He said, “I'm so embarrassed, I'm going to hang up.” I said, “Please don't. Please don't. This incident merely shows how insidious racism is. Please, let's talk about it.” I could hear embarrassment in his voice, and hesitations and chagrin. Finally, after about three or four minutes, he managed to hang up. I telephoned him three times, but he never returned my telephone calls.

The incident saddened and burdened me. The man, his family and friends were lessened by not getting to know me and my family and friends. And it also meant that I, my family, and my friends were lessened by not getting to know him. Because we never had a chance to talk, to teach other and learn from each other, racism had diminished all the lives it had touched.

It is time for the preachers, the rabbis, the priests and pundits, and the professors to believe in the awesome wonder of diversity so that they can teach those who follow them. It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength. We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the
threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter their color; equal in importance no matter their texture.

Our young must be taught that racial peculiarities do exist, but that beneath the skin, beyond the differing features and into the true heart of being, fundamentally, we are more alike, my friend, than we are unalike.

Jealousy

A jealous lover can be a little amusing. In fact, jealousy made evident in a room filled with people can be an outright intoxicant to everyone, including the lovers. It must be remembered, however, that jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening.

Planned Pregnancy

The woman who has the fortune to plan a pregnancy also has the opportunity to experience rare pleasures. She can consciously participate in the evolution of her body from fecundity to its ultimate production stage, the delivery of a child. During the entire period, if she remains attentive, she will marvel at the emergence of new and delightful sensualities.

She must carefully prepare her mind in order to enjoy the parturition. She will spend time appreciating her body before conception. Knowing that her features will undergo dramatic changes, she and her mate will spend considerable time examining and enjoying her breasts and calves and arms and belly.

She will have photographs made for the months ahead, which will seem to stretch into years. When her
belly extends so far that her feet disappear from her view, then the portraits of her lissome days will have the value of rare gems.

If she and her mate do not consider pregnancy a common occurrence just because it happens all the time, if they are persistently imaginative, each stage can furnish them exquisite gratification.

A Day Away

We often think that our affairs, great or small, must be tended continuously and in detail, or our world will disintegrate, and we will lose our places in the universe. That is not true, or if it is true, then our situations were so temporary that they would have collapsed anyway.

Once a year or so I give myself a day away. On the eve of my day of absence, I begin to unwrap the bonds which hold me in harness. I inform housemates, my family and close friends that I will not be reachable for twenty-four hours; then I disengage the telephone. I turn the radio dial to an all-music station, preferably one which plays the soothing golden oldies. I sit for at least an hour in a very hot tub; then I lay out my clothes in preparation for my morning escape, and knowing that nothing will disturb me, I sleep the sleep of the just.

On the morning I wake naturally, for I will have set no clock, nor informed my body timepiece when it should alarm. I dress in comfortable shoes and casual clothes and leave my house going no place. If I am living in a city, I wander streets, window-shop, or gaze at buildings. I enter and leave public parks, libraries, the lobbies of skyscrapers, and movie houses. I stay in no place for very long.

On the getaway day I try for amnesia. I do not want to know my name, where I live, or how many dire responsibilities rest on my shoulders. I detest encountering even the closest friend, for then I am reminded of who I am, and the circumstances of my life, which I want to forget for a while.

Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, lovers, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence.

Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us. We need hours of aimless wandering or spates of time sitting on park benches, observing the mysterious world of ants and the canopy of treetops.

If we step away for a time, we are not, as many may think and some will accuse, being irresponsible, but
rather we are preparing ourselves to more ably perform our duties and discharge our obligations.

When I return home, I am always surprised to find some questions I sought to evade had been answered and some entanglements I had hoped to flee had become unraveled in my absence.

A day away acts as a spring tonic. It can dispel rancor, transform indecision, and renew the spirit.

I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS

GATHER TOGETHER IN MY NAME

SINGIN' AND SWINGIN' AND GETTIN' MERRY LIKE CHRISTMAS

THE HEART OF A WOMAN

MAYA ANGELOU: POEMS

WOULDN'T TAKE NOTHING FOR MY JOURNEY NOW

I SHALL NOT BE MOVED

EVEN THE STARS LOOK LONESOME

A
VAILABLE FROM
B
ANTAM
B
OOKS

My thanks to Susan Taylor, editor in chief of
Essence
magazine, and Marcia Gillespie, editor in chief of
Ms
. magazine, who persuaded me that some lessons in living, which I had learned over many years, would be of use if featured in a magazine article.

My tender love to Rosa Johnson, “The Black Rose.” My tender love to Araba Budu-Arthur Bernasco.