Hello All,
Some long time CT members may remember the thread about the Legacy of Racism
workshop with Albrecht Mahr and Joy DeGruy at the 2005 US Constellations
Conference in Portland. The entire morning and part of the afternoon was
devoted to processing Joy DeGruy's objections to our doing any
Constellations as part of the day. (The thread is archived beginning
October 12, 2005.)
As things go round, Carolyn Zahner and I, who were each deeply stirred by
our experiences that day, are now helping to organize the 2011 US
Constellations Conference in San Francisco (www.USConstellations.com). A few
weeks ago, we again heard Joy DeGruy speak about the Legacy of Slavery,
followed by a workshop on the same theme at the California Institute of
Integral Studies. For the workshop, organizers Belvie Rooks and Tom DeWolf
invited me to participated as co-facilitator and lead a Constellations
process.
I posted a report about the Constellation to my blog
http://danboothcohen.blogspot.com/. Here is the text:
*The Legacy of Racism Workshop at California Institute of Integral
Studies<http://www.ciis.edu/> with
Belvie Rooks and Tom DeWolf*
The Legacy of Racism Workshop at California Institute of Integral
Studies<http://www.ciis.edu/> began
the night before at a public lecture by Dr. Joy
DeGruy<http://www.joydegruy.com/> attended
by 300 people. Her topic is Post-Traumatic Slave
Syndrome<http://www.joydegruy.com/ptss/index.html>.
She spoke for 2 hours, giving a passionately delivered, scholarly-based
overview of the experiences of Africans kidnapped into slavery in the United
States. One thesis is that the trauma of the African-American slavery lives
on and the traumatization continues to be inflicted.
The next morning, 30 workshop participants gathered at the CIIS to continue
the dialog and look at how we might individually and collectively support
healing and social transformation.
Belvie Rooks <http://growingaglobalheart.weebly.com/about-us.html>, Tom
DeWolf <http://www.inheritingthetrade.com/author.html>, and I were the
co-workshop facilitators. Belvie and Tom had presented similar workshops in
the past and invited me to join them by contributing a Constellation to the
days experience.
The Constellation part of the workshop began about 1½ hours into the day.
During the first part of the morning, I was listening and feeling the group
to get a sense of where to begin. Following the DeGruy lecture, the emotions
in the room were raw and somewhat tense. As a white male being invited to
offer a healing process to a group largely composed of African Americans, I
was aware that my offer might be met with skepticism by some and declined by
others.
Before setting up the Constellation, I offered a brief introduction to
contextualize the process and prepare the groups members as best I could for
what might follow. Not everyone embraced me or the introduction. When I
invited questions and comments, one woman offered that my language and
phrasing caused her to lose interest. Another, challenged whether a healing
process from Germany was appropriate for the setting. A third found my
explanations lacking. There seemed to be a risk that the group members were
not comfortable with moving forward. Given the larger context and peoples
unfamiliarity with me and Constellations, it was to be expected.
An African American man spoke up and broke the drift towards stalemate. He
offered that his spiritual practice is based on African
traditions<http://www.tribeofthesun.com/obatala.htm>,
that the workshop program said there was going to be a Constellation, and
the spirits that guided him were encouraging him to speak up. This comment,
and a supporting statement from Belvie Rooks, gave me permission to begin.
Listening for a theme or an image that speaks to the larger context, I heard
two that felt strong. One came from a young African American woman who told
about a time she was traveling by train through Peru. It was multi-hour
journey and she passed the time looking at the landscape. Suddenly, she felt
a strange disturbance in her body. Her emotions grew strong and dark, her
heart rate increased, and she felt overcome by feelings of stress and dread.
Frightened and confused, she turned to her traveling companion and asked him
what she was looking at. He glanced out and said, Those are cotton fields.
In recalling the story, she said, Cotton is in my DNA. Even though I dont
know what it looks like, somehow my body knows.
The other image came from Belvie. Her family history was traced in the
book, *The Seed of Sally Good'n. Sally
Goodn*<http://www.amazon.com/Seed-Sally-Goodn-Arkansas-1833-1953/dp/0813108764/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1303930926&sr=1-2-fkmr0>was
a bed woman to plantation owner Taylor Polk. Their son, Spencer Polk, was an
emancipated slave who became the patriarch of a large and energetic Arkansas
family. After Sally gave birth to a child with darker skin than the others
she was sold down the river, presumably to become the sole possession of a
poor white farmer. There is no record of her after that. Her heartbreak and
that of her children stirred Belvie to tears when recounting her story.
The Constellation began with 3 representatives: one for the land on which
the cotton grew; one for the poor Scottish American farmer; one for the
slave woman. After several minutes, I added three more: one for the same
piece of land a billion years earlier; one for the Scottish ancestor who
stayed behind when the children left for America; one for the African mother
whose child was kidnapped into slavery. Again after several minutes, I added
one more representative, a person to create the beat, a heartbeat, a drum,
the beat of the pulse of life.
Then, I spoke to those remaining on the outside of the circle and asked them
to feel into themselves whether there was a place for them in the circle. I
invited them to stand for themselves, another person, or an abstract
element. Stand in for what felt true for them and belonged. Gradually,
another 10 people stood up and moved into the circle. Last, I asked others
if so moved - to join the beat and create their own beats and pulses.
From there, the Constellation took on a life of its own. Each person had an
individual experience and emotions. While, I did check in with them, most of
what occurred happened in silence. The cotton field hated being torn apart
and poisoned. The slave woman was deep in misery, but heard the rhythm of
the beat to keep her alive. The Scottish farmer was working hard to survive
and worked the slave without remorse. The Scottish ancestor felt abandoned
and alone. A tall African American man with gray hair beat his hand on his
chest; he said he wanted to stop but could not. A light-skinned African
American woman said she hated the rapist father from whom she received her
complexion.
The beat goes on. The beat goes on. Goes on. Goes on.
I asked people to rearrange themselves in the space by time, with the oldest
elements at one end and the most recent at the other. The representatives
found their places without words. The man beating his chest became the
father of the slave woman. They were reunited and embraced with tears. A
woman representing the Native Americans found her father in the land that
was the cotton field. The Scottish and African ancestors found their
daughter, the woman with the lighter complexion. Words were whispered; I
stood away and did not hear them, honoring the sacred quality of the moment.
The beat rose in intensity with more people contributing sounds and
percussions. Someone began to sing, followed by others. People danced. The
Constellation transitioned into beat, movement, and music. Already, well
past our allotted time, I brought the experience to a close.
The process continued after it ended. An African American woman who had
stayed in her chair became very upset. She was speaking for herself, but
also could be understood to be in resonance with the mind of the
Constellation, expressing feelings that lived in her, but were much older
and larger than her. She was the future, the unborn, who no one wanted to
see. Two elders tended to her while I sat close by and listened. I told her
that I had been looking for her the entire time, but had not recognized her
because of my own blind spot. I asked her, what did she want me to know? She
responded, Just listen to me.
