Monday, September 26, 2005
A Certain Generosity of Spirit
"I like Crow," she said, as she picked up one of the books. "I do to," I said. "Crow is always trying to tell us what we don't want to hear." She turned the book over and inspected it. "I'd like to come by later, maybe get a copy."
Later that afternoon people started to arrive for the award presentation. After the slowness of the day, I was amazed by the size of the crowd, mostly Chicano. As it began to start, a young Chicano man walked up and shyly asked to buy a book. I was moved that he felt willing to touch my Anglo experience. I hope he finds meaning in it.
As I watched the introductions by noted community leaders I was struck by all that the crowd derived from this woman. As she spoke and acted out a piece of work, I could see the vision she was spinning for the people. These people who felt unseen and unrecognized were being given a voice through her, and she was showing them what they could be. This is the true writer's work. I hope someday to provide such a vision.
Later I gave her a copy of my book as a gift and she asked me to pull up a chair and sit down. She does that with everyone. She had arisen like a figure from my deep mythic consciousness, the land where Crow dwells, to carry me a message about my future and break my gaze on the past. People do that for each other. We sat and talked, equals in age and intent, sharing a certain generosity of spirit.