Jump Up. Luisah Teish

children were growing and what a cute thing Johnny, Jr., did the other day, holding the new baby and feeling the soft warmth of her touch, being inside where it was warm with food and friends.

      We children knew that the packages under the Christmas tree would be clothes. In low-income families clothes were the good gift. In fact, I remember a year when a local Catholic group gave toys away. Each child walked down a long assembly line of things and was allowed to choose an item. I selected a hula hoop, and my friends made it clear that they thought this toy was a silly choice.

      

      The holidays were also a time to extend ourselves to those who were less fortunate, because we did, after all, have food, shelter, and each other. So we looked in on the old folks, forgave the people who'd offended us, and resolved that something was going to be different somehow. Somewhere in this agenda church fit in: a midnight mass, a sunrise service, listening to the choir wail, and watching the appropriate Bible movie on television.

      When I grew older and left home, I was thrown into circles of people who treated the holidays differently. There was less emphasis on food and clothes, more emphasis on money and things. Being at home together was not as important as being in the “right” place, being seen with the “cool people.” As adolescence stretched out into young adulthood, I watched the holidays become a time of false piety, social snobbery, and conspicuous consumption. By the time I reached college I'd taken a political position against the holidays—period. They were just another excuse to beat people out of their money, lay somebody off a job, tell another lie about the past, bow down to a White baby boy, look up to a bleeding statue, or act out strange behaviors without understanding what they meant. This was followed by my “Black pride and awareness” period. To give meaning to an otherwise meaningless year, I turned everything Black. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph became Black, even Easter became Black. That winter holiday was now spelled Xmas to indicate the unknown truth. New Year's remained nebulous, while Thanksgiving became the “Criminals' Holiday,” on which I railed against exploitation of Native Americans.

      

      In the late ’60s my quest for spiritual liberation began with Egypt, the wonderful, mystical cradle of civilization. I joined the Fahamme Temple of Amun-Ra in St. Louis, where I learned Egyptian beliefs about the Solstices and Equinoxes, was taught to analyze the symbols associated with holidays, and was made to understand that the daily rising and setting of the Sun make each day a “holy day.” I felt a little better.

      The quest for cosmic joy took me to Africa, where the deities walk among human beings and dance is worship. In studying Africa I learned that the strength of a culture will endure even the greatest hardships and still retain its beauty and power. Centuries ago the transatlantic slave trade, which was sponsored by the Catholic Church, brought millions of Black people from their Motherland, Africa, to the so-called New World. We were dispersed throughout the Western Hemisphere, with large concentrations in Brazil, the Caribbean Islands, and the North American colonies. Slavery required that these Africans be baptized, take Christian names, and worship the saints. At the same time the Black Codes, which regulated plantation behavior, forbade slaves to marry, to own property, to speak their own languages, or to worship and celebrate in their own fashion. However, the attempt to destroy African culture did not succeed. Like most people, we managed to acclimate ourselves to the land, people, and culture around us, and in the process we created rituals and celebrations that are both old and new. This is the creative gift of African American culture.

      

      Later I was blessed with the opportunity to experience some of the ceremonies of Native American spiritual culture, which call us to walk in balance upon the Earth, to regard Her as our Mother, and to take care of Her. This point of view resonates with the African belief that we are children of Nature who can and must turn to the Water, the Thunder, and the Mountains for strength, guidance, and joy. I came to realize that the African and Native American traditions are blessed with elders who could teach me the stories and rituals that have been preserved in spite of centuries of oppression.

      As I became more involved in the Women's Spirituality Movement, my friend and sister Starhawk introduced me to the pagan tradition. At last what seemed to have been mere nonsense began to make real common sense. I came to understand that paganism is the ancestral tradition of European culture, from which the traditions of Christianity were born.

      I now live in a racially diverse neighborhood in Oakland, California—a community in which I am dedicated to living joyfully. With the help of imagination I have created a wonderland in my own home and life. My work as a performer, writer, and ritual designer also takes me to sacred sites al over the world. The blessing of my experience is that I have found kindred spirits to jump up with everywhere. I have learned that every day is a Holy Day. And the Earth is a sacred place where the power of the Sea and the beauty of the Sky express Mother Nature's love for humanity and the wonder of Creation. I feel so very blessed, and in sharing this blessing with you, I invite you to create a beautiful world every day of your year, every day of your life.

      I have stood silently in awe of the rainforest

      in Africa, the South Pacific, and the Caribbean.

      I've walked down dusty roads in Mexico and

      said prayers to the Pyramid of the Moon.

      I've watched the volcano erupt and

      followed Her lava flow to the sea in Hawaii.

      I've swung from ancient vines in the caves of Jamaica and buried the dead in Dakar.

      I've danced with delight around totem poles and pressed my forehead to that of Maori warriors.

      I have eaten strange fruit and wild flowers in Australia and bathed in the waters of the Rhine.

      I've joked with the pale fox in the crossroads, then wrestled with the Jaguar and won.

      I have embraced great trees between my thighs, spoke words of love to thunder while riding lightning bolts.

      I have danced on the pyramids in Egypt, howled at the moon on the Avila Mountains of Venezuela.

      I have dreamed with the souls in Atlantis.

      —Luisah Teish

      1

      Myths and Deities

      In the beginning, at a time when there was no Time, all that existed was the great silence in the dark depth of the Cosmic Womb (Nana Buluku). Within the Womb, the Great Egg of the World (Olodumare) sat in patient potential waiting for the fated moment of Its hatching. Suddenly a sound burst out from the center of the egg—OOORRRROOO—and the life-giving particles in the egg quickened and set into motion a tremendous bang, causing creative air spirits in the form of gases to dance among themselves. They danced themselves into Fire; they danced themselves into Earth. In the frenzy of their joy, Moon (Mawu) and Sun (Lisa) were born. Other dancing gases clashed and collided into fireballs spinning through the deep blue of space. They leaped and tumbled into the luminous depth of the Earth and formed the Ocean (Yemaya-Olokun). The rushing hum of the Ocean splashed Itself against Earth's shores, as the great masses of land erupted from Her depth (Odudua).

      Sun stepped forward to perform His solo, and the Moon laid back to cool Herself off in the Upper Deep. As the Sun performed His slow drag over the surface of the Earth, life stirred in His rays (Ache). In the depth of the Sea, things began to form—a single cell divided into two making seaweed, hydra, and fish. The crab crawled out of the water and found that on the land, life was moving. Seed burst open, forming flowers, trees, and fruit. Spiders crawled, birds flew, and bush cows roamed in the forest. A blazing heat permeated the Earth, causing all things to stir and take shape. But the Sun's heat was overwhelming; things were being overdone, so He receded, and the Moon brought forth Her dance. She circled slowly through the night sky cooling the Earth, settling seed, calming the waters, and leaking a mysterious ray of subtle light (Ache) that tempered everything on Earth.