Literary Safari

Update 6.27.06: Brazil beat Ghana 2-0 today and will not continue to the finals. Nevertheless, history has been made and who knows what lies in the Stars’ future.

Ghana made World Cup history today when it beat the U.S. 2-1! This is its first ever appearance at the WC finals. Hurrah for my birthland!

I was following the game closely from my google toolbar, and watched the last 20 minutes in my company kitchen/pantry.

It’s one thing to win a game; somehow that win is taken to a whole new level when you beat the US of A. You’re on a map – and even those people (and there are many) who don’t know where Ghana is are going to ask “Where exactly is Ghana?” I say that because it’s true – that’s what happened to me when I was watching the match.

I have to say that it was interesting to be the only person in the room not rooting for the United States. I felt distinctly unpatriotic and found myself trying hard to control my excitement as the game drew to a close and it became clearer and clearer that Ghana was going to win.

At one point my allegiance slipped out – but I quickly followed it up with an “I was born in Ghana.” As though I needed to justify and prove that no, I’m not a traitor.

My colleagues couldn’t bear to watch the end of the game. They were depressed and devastated–and I couldn’t bare my delight because I didn’t feel free enough to do so.

Miles away from Accra, I trudged back to my cubicle quietly and tried to imagine what the scene might be like over there. That would be my silent celebration. (Of course, I shot my sister an email – they won! – and called my husband and whispered, hey, did you see that? it was awesome!’

In my mind’s eye, I went on to imagine crowds of people dancing in the streets of Kumasi the way they do during Asante funerals, but even more excited. I saw groups of boys waving their arms in joy in the back of tro-tros. I could hear high life music blaring from loudspeakers on soccer fields filled with celebratory schoolchildren in khakhi uniforms.

I poked around and read Ghana’s Daily Graphic, Africaweb, and other news sites, but I didn’t feel completely satisfied until I came upon Sarah Left’s post at the Guardian Unlimited’s World Cup blog.

Here’s my own guilty secret, one I didn’t let on even to the welcoming throng of Black Stars fans in Duncan’s: I’m American, too. Well, also British. But how very American to support Ghana against my mother country. While I could never love a baseball team other than the Los Angeles Angels – no matter how many times they change owners, or lose – somehow I find my allegiance a bit more flexible when it comes to football. So there I was in a Ghanaian bar, with a whistle hanging from a red, green and yellow cord around my neck. >> Read more.

I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it, but Sarah Left did – that feeling of having to choose sides between the country in which I live and call home … and the country in which I was born and that I still consider a home.

I end the day remembering a former boxing champion friend of my father’s who once told me: Once you are born here, you are always a Ghanaian. It doesn’t matter how far away you go or where you live. This is your country.

Wise words.

Happy Summer Solstice! It’s the longest day of the year and the official start of summer. I’m a creature of ritual and this is one of those days that I always need to bookmark in some special way.

For the past couple of years, my husband and I have been going to Paul Winter’s Summer Solstice concert at St. John the Divine.

Paul Winter’s annual celebration of the first day of summer and of the longest day of the year is purposeful in its simplicity, emphasizing acoustic music and the meditative beauty of the waxing and waning sunlight through the great Cathedral’s stained glass windows.

Two years ago, we joined the crowd of sleepy-eyed people on the steps of the cathedral at4:30 am for the concert at dawn. It was a unique experience – driving up Amsterdam Avenue and seeing so many people up and about, doctors and nurses coming off the night shift, street lamps fading, and taxi cabs speeding. It reminded me that I live in the City that never sleeps.

It also reminded me that the early morning hours – the ones where I have to drag myself out of my bed – are also the ones where I am at my best. I’m clearheaded, calm, worry free.

Early morning music – live and inside the world’s largest Gothic cathedral – was another thing. I had never experienced sunrise like this – the rising sun slowly illuminated the stained glass and filled the giant space with light.

This year, the summer solstice concert is not on. Need ritual. Need ritual. That little voice called out to me. I found myself at sunset yoga – on the lawns of Fort Tryon Park, in the shadow of the Cloisters.

The sky was a clear blue with the occasional puffy cloud. The green grass was dotted with colorful mats and many aspiring desirants of flexibility. The movement was inviting and it got me thinking about how (so often) in yoga, we’re asked to

ground your feet into the earth
extend your hands up to reach the sky
push away the clouds in your mind

It was nice to actually be able to do all of these things for real and in the true outdoors, away from fluroscent lighting and steel cubicles, you know?

Here’s to many more days and nights …. under the sun!

And, because there’s always next year … a shortlist of other Summer Solstice celebrations in NYC:
Solstice in Times Square
Summer Solstice Party @ Socrates Sculpture Garden

Update: I wrote my hands and heart out and am in the process of revising some of the pieces that emerged that day. I also met some very cool people – including Eleanor Traubman of Creative Times(we wrote letters to body parts in our writing workshop)- and raised $686 (not bad).

I’m participating in an all-day fundraiser Write-a-Thon for the nonprofit organization, New York Writers Coalition today. We’re going to be meeting at the Bowery Poetry Club and … yes, writing all day! It’s not too late to make a donation. Every $ counts!

I pulled out my favorite notebook for the occasion-my relatively new Claire Fontaine notebook which I bought in Versailles in February. I do so much of my writing on the computer these days that I decided I would write by hand today.

Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, says that writing by hand is a powerful experience. It uses both sides of the brain’s hemispheres and gives you the opportunity to lock up the censor more easily.
I tend to agree with her, even though I don’t do this anymore, mostly because I dislike the slow movement of my hand and am lazy about typing my work into the computer. Today should be interesting.

Wish me luck! A full report tomorrow.