Then, as if a movie screen dropped in front of me, I could see the words of Proverbs 3:5: “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Be still and know.” Oh My God! I thought the guidance was to let Eden take the lead. Now I realized it was all about God. I was being guided to allow God to take the lead in my marriage and my life. But, he was talking about leaving! Is that what God wanted? I didn’t understand, but I decided to trust. I didn’t file the papers. Perhaps it was for him to do. Perhaps there was something bigger that I could see or know. Whatever was happening, as long as I did not have to be accosted in my bed, I would trust and keep moving forward.
I remembered that I had a powerful tool I could use to support and heal myself—the Emotional Freedom Technique or EFT.
I don’t remember when or how I learned about EFT but I do remember how it helped to keep me calm in some very difficult times. Like so many things I had studied, things that would actually help me, I had used it for a while and then cast it aside convinced that I could not be helped by something so simple.
The easiest way to describe EFT is that it is a form of needleless acupuncture. Using your fingertips you tap on specific parts of your body while saying certain affirmations in order to move and remove the energy of mental and emotional trauma. Goodness knows I had experienced enough of that in my life. At this point, I was beyond being stressed out. I was becoming numb again; it was the only way I knew to protect myself. Yet, in order to move forward, I needed a clear head and an open heart. My daily Tapping regime became my ticket to a place I did not know I was headed.
Dear God: Please untie the nots. All of the can nots, should nots,
may nots and have nots.
Please erase from my mind the thoughts that I am not good enough.
— Everyday I Pray
CHAPTER 12
THE SOUL SISTERS
I began to focus all of my attention on Inner Visions and the coaching institute we had begun. I needed and wanted to write a book. I needed to because my contract called for it. My last book, Everyday I Pray, had hit the stands two weeks after 9/11 and the sales were dismal. Two years later, I needed to get back into the publishing world. My publisher agreed, but argued that my twoyear absence, combined with poor sales and the fact that I was no longer on television, meant that I no longer had the same value in the marketplace.
What I heard was that I was no longer worth the money. No, they assured me. It wasn’t about my worth, it was about the audience. I would need to rebuild my audience to generate the sales I once had. I was insulted. They were firm.
We negotiated a decent three-book deal, which meant they still had faith in me. The truth is, I was ready to write and I needed the money. I also knew that I had a few things to clean up if I was going to move forward unencumbered by past mistakes.
The first thing I had to clean up was my exit from Harpo. I had learned a lot since then, a lot about myself and the world of television. Since leaving Oprah’s show, I had heard stories that had shocked, horrified, and humbled me. My intention was to clear the decks between Ms. O and myself.
I wrote Ms. O a letter. I started by apologizing. I apologized for not honoring my word, the word I had given to Gayle when she told me not to let other networks trick me into leaving Harpo. I had said, “I am not going anywhere.” I did not honor my word. I apologized for being naive and not revealing who had made me the offer. Had I simply told the truth, perhaps she could have advised me differently. I told her what Ms. Walters had said to me the day the show ended. I apologized for being used as a pawn. I admitted how disrespectful it had been for me to leave her show and end up, as I did, looking like a total fake on television. I asked for her forgiveness and explained that I was in the process of forgiving myself. I assured her that I did not want anything from her. I considered her a sister whom I had wronged, and I only hoped that she would be willing to accept my apology. It didn’t matter to me if she responded. I knew that I had to take ownership of my behavior if I was ever to be free of the guilt and shame I felt.
Two weeks after I sent the letter, I got a message asking me to call Ms. Winfrey. She thanked me for the letter. We talked about the Iyanla show and how it had been produced. I told her I was glad it had not happened on her watch. She said that it would have never happened on her watch. Before we hung up, she thanked me again. She said that I was not the first one who had been lured away, but that I was the first one who had ever apologized. She told me that it took a big woman to do what I had done. She promised that when she came into the area, we would get together for crab cakes.
When I hung up the telephone, it felt as if a hundred-pound weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I sat very still for a long time. Then I had a thought. If Oprah Winfrey thought I was a big woman, I had better start acting like one.
Even in your most difficult times, God will always find a way to send you a blessing. My blessings were 14 beautiful and powerful women. They came from all walks of life, they were all different ages, and they all had two things in common: They loved me and they supported my vision. Together, we made up the Inner Visions faculty and workshop team. Together, we touched the lives of men and women all over the world, from the United States to the United Kingdom, throughout the Caribbean and all the way to South Africa. Bad, in the good sense, does not describe who we are together. In the Michael Jackson sense of the word, we were baaaaaaad!
We supported and encouraged each other. We worked and played together. The most important thing we did was make an all-out commitment to serve God and God’s people by using our talents, gifts, and abilities, as well as anything or anyone else we could put our hands on. We were always threatening to write a book about our exploits. Perhaps we will—who knows? Without each of my sisters, I would never have made it through some of the darkest and most difficult days of my life.
Imet Ebun “Laughing Crow” Adelona when I was a young Yoruba priestess living in New York. She was interested in the culture, and was raising her daughter in a quiet Harlem neighborhood. When we met, she was studying with a Native American teacher, and at the same time, seeking a deeper connection to her African roots. Together we explored both cultures, in fact, all spiritual cultures. It was Ebun who introduced me to the concept of healthy eating and the benefits of good nutrition. I attended my first meditation class with her. It was Ebun who took me to my first Inipi, or Sweat Lodge Ceremony. I supported her on her first vision quest. Ebun, a registered nurse, was deeply committed to the total healing of the mind, body, and Spirit. She was also a master at integrating scientific and spiritual knowledge. She was the elder in the group, and she was a stickler for protocol—spiritual, cultural, and energetic. If we were going to do it, it had to be done right.
When I moved to Maryland, I met Muhsinah—Mama Muhsinah, as we all called her. She was the earth mother among us, large in stature, with an ever-smiling face. Muhsinah was unflappable, always pleasant, and usually had something good to say about the worst scoundrel. She also looked after the children. Any child in the room was likely to end up on her lap or sleeping against her breasts. I was both late and lost on my way to a speaking engagement when she spotted me. She introduced herself and took me to where a roomful of people were awaiting my arrival. After that, Muhsinah would call and volunteer her time whenever I was doing a workshop or a class in DC. The three of us became a team. Actually, there were four of us: Gemmia, Muhsinah, myself, and Niamoja. Three women and a baby. We went everywhere and did almost everything together, believing as we did that we had known each other from another life.
For many years, I had the honor of being a speaker and workshop facilitator at The African American Women on Tour Conference. I was first recommended to speak at the event by Susan L. Taylor, the former editor in chief of Essence magazine. After my first keynote address at the conference, I was invited back annually to conduct a workshop. Women came from all around the world to attend the conference, and many of them ended up in my
workshop. The energy was high. At times, it felt almost too high to really support the women in having a meaningful experience.
I asked Muhsinah if she knew any prayer warriors, people who could hold the High Watch and pray for the participants during the workshop. I had learned about the High Watch when I was a child, going to church with Grandma. Whenever there was something big going on in the church, or if one of the members was sick or in some sort of trouble, the church mothers held a High Watch. That meant that they sat around a table or in the living room at someone’s home and prayed. As a child, it was one of the most gut-wrenching experiences I had to endure. As a child, I would sit for hour after hour while grandma and the other “saints” prayed. Because I didn’t understand anything about prayer and no one bothered to explain, it was like watching paint dry. Now, as an experienced workshop facilitator, I understood the absolute need for constant prayer as people engaged in spiritual healing work.
Muhsinah contacted Helen. She was a teacher and a good oldfashioned Baptist. Helen admitted that she didn’t understand what she was being asked to do, but she knew how to pray. I discovered Judith on my way to the workshop room. She was a huge fan of my work and asked if I needed any help. She reminded me of my make-believe sister Bunny. As she ran alongside me, almost flippantly I asked, “Do you know how to pray?”
“I guess so.”
I told her the number of my workshop room and asked her to meet me there.
Judith showed up with her friend Almasi. She was about the same height, same size, with the most beautiful complexion I had ever seen. The six of us stood in the middle of the room as the participants lined up outside. I assigned each of the women a chair in one of the corners of the room. I told them to stay in their seats and pray. They were to pray any prayer they knew over and over. They were praying for peace in the room and healing for every woman in the room. Then we all prayed together before they took their places. Helen the Baptist in one corner. Almasi the Akan in another. Judith, like me a Yoruba, and Muhsinah, a recovering Catholic who was simply delighted to be doing spiritual work of this nature. Gemmia was at the table working the music, because music is a huge element of my work. Niamoja, who did her first workshop when she was six weeks old, was asleep in her stroller. When the women began to enter the room, it felt good. We felt ready. The Inner Visions workshop team was formed.
I had met AdaRa the first day I moved to Maryland. She stood about five foot six inches, and she could not have weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. But baby, let me tell you, that woman could move. Together, she and her sweetie helped Gemmia and me unload an 18-foot truck in under two hours, and she did most of the lifting. AdaRa was an energy master. Although she worked for the federal government, she studied the way-left spiritual arts of Reiki, Bio-Energy Kinesiology, and some other things I couldn’t even pronounce. She worked with light and color energy. To look at her you would never know it, but she was a true facilitator of healing and the healing arts. I asked her to join the team. She said she would be honored.
AdaRa introduced me to Janet, a registered nurse like Ebun and one of AdaRa’s students. Janet was quiet; very quiet. She rarely said a word unless you asked her to pray. Janet was skilled at being still and quieting the mind. She brought another level of energy to the team.
Viviana was a massage and colon therapist, and was married to a colon therapist. They had a small office in Silver Spring, Maryland, not far from the Inner Visions home office. She also lived in the same housing development with Gemmia. Viviana hosted a monthly full-moon meditation that was open to the public. Like Janet, she was a meditation master. She had also mastered the art of playing crystal bowls as a meditation tool and enhancement. Muhsinah suggested that we invite her to hold her meditations at the Inner Visions office. The team was growing and so was the Inner Visions brand.
Lydia joined the team when I began hosting monthly lectures in New York at Aaron Davis Hall on the campus of City College. Lydia was our Puerto Rican sister. On the day of our first lecture, she was sitting outside waiting to buy her ticket. When we arrived—the three women and the baby—she asked if she could help us unload. She fell in love with Niamoja, who seemed totally uninterested in Lydia’s displays of affection, until she produced her package of Tic Tacs. Asking Gemmia’s permission, Lydia began to feed Niamoja one Tic Tac at a time. That was the beginning of their love affair, and ours.
Lydia had been successful in her recovery for ten years, and she was on a serious spiritual mission. We were simply the vehicle to carry her through the journey. Every month for almost four years, Lydia would show up at Aaron Davis Hall to help us unload the van, and every month she had a package of Tic Tacs for Niamoja. When we started selling books at the event, Lydia would man the table. When an attendee had a problem with a ticket or a seat, Lydia was the trouble shooter. She also became my eyes and ears, running between the front of the theater and backstage to let me know what was going on.
It took about a year of these monthly appearances before we hit a milestone. Lydia and Gemmia came into the dressing room where Tulani and I were changing to go on stage. Tulani opened every lecture with a series of songs that eventually became our trademark. The two of them rarely came into the dressing room together, so I assumed something awful had happened.
“We have a problem.”
“Oh Lord! What’s wrong?” We had invested so much time, energy and money in the lectures and they were just beginning to catch on.
Gemmia said: “I’m not sure what to do so I thought I should speak with you.”
I was really getting nervous. I knew we had insurance, but I was beginning to think that someone had been hurt. Suddenly her face broke into a smile:
“We have a full house! We are sold out and there is a line of people outside waiting to get in.”
“What?”
Lydia answered this time:
“We are sold out, Mama. There is not a seat left in the place.”
This is what we had prayed for. This meant the event would now pay for itself. We were in the black! It was a miracle! No. It was an answer to a prayer. We all realized it at the same time and started to jump up and down like lunatics screaming, “We’re sold out! Thank you God!”
Of course, it would be Gemmia who came to her senses first. She had left Muhsinah upstairs with the irate people who had failed to buy their tickets in advance. The management of the theater said we could probably get 50 more people in if they were willing to stand. They were. That left us with another 25 standing outside. We offered them discounted admission for the next month, but people hate to miss something when it is going on. We offered them free food and an autographed book. That calmed most of them down. It was an incredible evening, an incredible lecture, and an incredible accomplishment for three women and a baby.
Over the years, the team grew to include two massage therapists: Danni, from Detroit, and Yawfah, from Atlanta. Terri from New York and Lydia became students in the inaugural class of the Inner Visions Institute while they were working on the workshop team. Our team became so much more than a group of women doing workshops. We became a family.
We spent so much time together that we had no choice but to include all of our families in the process. The husbands, Almasi’s, Viviana’s, and mine, became community husbands, without the sex, of course. All of the men did school runs or bought ice cream for everyone. The children became community children: Judith had six; Almasi had five; Helen, Muhsinah, and I had three; Yawfah and Viviana had two; Danni, Ebun, Terri, and Lydia each had one. AdaRa and Janet were the childless big sisters to them all.
Parents inherited us all, and siblings became part of the crew, giving us a built-in volunteer core. For me, the team became my safety net. They took care of me, and I honored them in the same way. When Almasi’s daughter had her first baby, we were all on the telephone. When Helen’s son went into the service, we prayed to keep him out of the war. When one of the children or husbands was having an issue, they would get call
s from several of us. When someone needed something, the need was met.
Finally, I had a family I could trust and depend on. Everyone was invested in the vision and everyone brought something valuable to the table. We built a community of like-minded people. We built a family of unconditional love.
Without the love and support of the community team, Inner Visions would not exist. It simply wouldn’t. It wasn’t just that they did the work; they supported me in ways most people have never experienced and cannot imagine. It was through the love and support of these women that I learned to love and honor myself.
I watched them. I talked to them. They talked to me. They watched me. When something needed to be done, they got it done. When something needed to be worked out, they worked it out. In the process, they loved me, honored me, and held me in a position of great esteem. They didn’t worship me; in fact, they helped me keep my life and everything about it real. Because of them, I was able to leave my home and my business in order to travel the world. With them, I was blessed to do some miraculous work in the world. With them, I walked through some of the darkest hours of my life. And, because of them, I survived.
The first class of students had entered the Inner Visions Institute, and they were an eager and lively group. Working the kinks out of the curriculum kept me and the rest of the staff pretty busy throughout the week and on most weekends. There was no way my husband could sleep in my house again, which raised a serious childcare issue for me with Oluwa. Gemmia got the support of Jimmy. Although they had separated, he continued to work for me, and their relationship remained amicable. He kept Niamoja on the weekends, and she asked if Oluwa could join them. He may have wanted to say no, but he knew he could not.
With the children cared for, Gemmia and I threw ourselves into the work of building a teaching institution. As faculty members, we each had students we were responsible for. We marked their papers and coached them through their learning process. Gemmia was an excellent instructor and a wonderful life coach. Her students were among the best in the group, and their progress was excellent.
Peace From Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What You're Going Through Page 21
